#i can't get over the tender 'almost' he and Big City have

[maegalkarven]

This book hurts but like in a good way and I'm pretty sure, what, despite everything, that week is the closest to the happiness Benji was ever felt.

#the winners spoilers #the winners #fredrik backman #i can't get over the tender 'almost' he and Big City have #and how comfortable Benji in his skin FINALLY #once the original dread of coming home wears off

[sanguineterrain]

the teeth you know | dick grayson

Summary: The war between the humans and the vampires has lasted for a year now. When you fled Gotham, you thought that would be the last time you'd see the Vampire King and the love of your life, Dick Grayson. You were wrong.

Pairing: vampire king!Dick Grayson x fem!reader. based on the dc vs vampires comics

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings/tags: smut!!! 18+ only. oral fem receiving, manipulation, romantic dick, me retconning whatever smarmy little bastard they wrote in dc vs vampires bc that is NOT my dick. dick is literally so gone for you, vampire king or not. themes of death, war, vampires killing humans. if i missed any warnings lmk!

happy almost halloween! follow your dreams and fuck that superhero turned vampire. it'll definitely fix them this time.

the divider

If you like this fic and want to see more, please let me know through reblogs ♡

Tonight, you dream. 

You don't usually have good dreams. Not since this whole war began. Your dreams are filled with red. Always red, always terrifying. 

Except when he's in them.

The first few times it happened, you yelled at him for intruding on your subconscious. For warping your emotions and making you miss him. He'd laughed at that. 

You should look at yourself a little harder before blaming me. I just appear. You do all the dirty work of missing me, my love.

You're in Gotham in tonight's dream. The old Gotham, of course. Before any bastard undead creatures could suck the life out of your city. Before Dick Grayson haunted your dreams. 

You're on a rooftop ledge, legs dangling. You stare at the harbor. The city's wet from the rain and alive. So alive. You start to cry. 

"Oh, honey," he says, and you cry harder because he sounds exactly like the Dick you knew. 

He keeps his distance, sitting a few feet away. You refuse to look at him, because this is exactly how he gets you to miss him. Dick makes a soft noise when you scrub at your face.

"Have you been eating enough?" he asks, and he almost sounds tender. But you know better. "I'll track down a produce shipment, tell my men to intercept the boat for you."

"Fuck you," you say. "I don't take food out of people's mouths."

Dick edges closer. He feels big in your dreams, looming over you. 

"You wouldn't take food out of anyone's mouth. There's no longer a faction on the planet that requires all that food." 

Because the vampires have all but wiped humans out. You snarl. 

"Why can't you leave me alone?" you snap. "I know you're cruel, but the least you could do is let me dream in peace."

"Have I been cruel to you? I don't mean to be, sweetheart. I visit to check on you."

"Bullshit, Dick." Saying his name makes you shake. "You visit to manipulate me. I'm not going to give up my location, I'm not going to turn against my team, and I'm definitely never going to be your queen."

Dick is next to you on the roof ledge, now. He leans in and you stiffen at his eyes. You still aren't used to the absence of blue.

"Of course not. I wouldn't make you do anything you don't want to," he says, hand slipping across your jaw. You immediately slap him away. He makes a displeased sound. 

"Why don't you find someone else to manipulate? I'm sure you've got countless minions who'd leap at the chance to be with you for eternity." 

"I don't want anyone else," he murmurs. "I've thought of nothing but you since we parted. I wish you hadn't run, my love. Things would be better if we were together, you’d see.”

"Hah. You used to be so much better at compartmentalizing, Grayson. Guess vampires aren't so good at controlling their own desires."

He laughs, tosses his head back. His fangs glint. Dick's smile is deceiving; underneath the charm, there's unimaginable power. Vampirism has treated him well: he's always filled out, lean with muscle, carrying an easy strength everywhere he goes. 

You, on the other hand, suffer from poor nutrition. You didn't sleep well before this mess; now, it's nearly impossible. 

(Except when Dick visits, you feel rested the next morning. You'd never admit such a thing to anybody, but it's the truth.) 

"Oh, sweetheart, but why would I bother controlling my desires now? There's no one stopping me from having what I want."

You stew in silence, turning away from him. Dick sighs. 

"What do you want, hm? Tell me. I'll give you anything." 

"I want you to free every human you're holding captive," you say. "And I want you and your people to stop this war."

"Such a golden heart," Dick says. "That's what I love about you. Always so good."

"You used to be good too," you shoot back bitterly. 

"No, I used to be obedient. There's a difference. I used to be Bruce's little, golden cow."

“He treated you well.”

“When I fell in line,” he says.

You fall quiet again. Dick scoots closer. You scoot away. 

"You know I've already let a few of the humans go. For you, honey. As a sign of goodwill. I'm not totally heartless, you know."

You roll your eyes. 

"Right. Well, us cattle don't find it merciful when we're sent out on our own to die, so you'll have to excuse me if I don't thank Your Highness on my knees."

"You are not cattle," Dick says fiercely. "Don't talk about yourself that way."

"My life is no less human and no more important than theirs," you say, temper flaring. "So, yes, I am."

"That's—"

You fall off the roof before he can say any more. Your stomach swoops similarly to how it would if you were awake. But then the stars bleed into the skyline, and there's a flash of golden light. 

And now you're in a bedroom. It's not one you recognize, richly decorated with golden accents and silk sheets and curtains. You'd almost mistake it for a room at Wayne Manor. 

"Now this is much better, don't you think? You're wearing my favorite color."

You look down and see that your pajamas have been swapped for a long, blood red, chiffon nightgown. It hugs every curve and dip of your body, the sleeves and collar trimmed in soft fur. The neckline is somewhat modest, but the fabric is totally see-through past your thighs. 

It's something a queen would wear. 

"Beautiful," Dick murmurs, voice rough. "Fuck, honey. This is the sort of thing you should wear all the time."

"Change me back," you demand. "I am not a doll for you to dress up, Dick."

"No, of course you're not. This is just a taste of how you'd live if you were with me, my love."

"I will never live with you. I'd rather die."

Dick hums, then draws closer. You back up until your legs hit the edge of the bed. He prowls further, eyes sharp like he's hunting prey. Your pulse quickens and you have to remind yourself that this is just a dream. 

"What happened to us?" he asks softly. "I know that, at one point, you loved me."

"Yeah, that was before you turned into a monster. I loved a man." 

"I'm no more monster than any of the men you've known," Dick says. 

You scoff. "God, where'd you get that one? Jason?"

Dick smiles, and it almost looks human. "No, that was a Grayson original. And it's true. Man has never been good. You don't like me because now I drink a little blood?"

"I don't like you because you used to be good, and now you're not."

He hums. "I'm not all bad, my love. I can be subdued, tamed. You want me to be tame? I can be good for you. I can give you anything your heart desires. Our wants are the same.”

Dick eases you backwards onto the bed. You shouldn’t let him. Shouldn’t like the cold press of undead flesh against your heat. Shouldn’t like how he holds you, how convincing he sounds. You know your wants aren’t the same, that Dick is playing you, and you’re being easy.

But… but it's not like you'll ever see him for real again. No one will know. 

And God, it's been so long since anyone touched you. You pined for this, what seems like forever ago. Dick Grayson wanting you had felt impossible, until it wasn't… but by then, he'd become the very thing you'd sworn to hate. 

"This–” You swallow. “This isn’t right.” 

But your legs part for him to kneel between. 

"Tell me to stop and I will. I serve you first."

Dick hovers over you, hands planted on either side of your head. You're getting wet. You ache in more ways than one. 

"This is cruel," you whine.

"I don’t mean to be cruel,” he says gently. “Do you want me to stop, my love? My beautiful queen, who hasn’t been touched in so long. You’ve needed me, haven’t you?”

“Not–not your queen,” you say, panting, but you let him in, let him settle above you. 

“If you say so, my love," he says, nuzzling your neck. You tense even though he can't actually bite you. 

His fingers thread with yours. The position is unbearably intimate. You’d forgotten how romantic Dick was. How loving. Briefly, you wonder if he kept that through the shift.

It’s impossible, you insist as he kisses your jaw.

"You're a dream in red," he purrs. "I might prefer it to you in blue, but it's a close call."

"Your ego is ridiculous," you say, and Dick unlinks one hand to pet the apex of your thighs with two fingers. You're still clothed, and you're still dreaming, but the heat and pressure and slick feel so real. 

"The sounds you're making certainly don’t keep my ego in check," Dick says with a proud grin, fangs on display. 

Then he rips your underwear off, ducks between your legs, and licks you until you cry. 

You arch off the bed, and even in the dream, his strength is easy, one hand keeping you pressed to the bed. Dick pushes one of your legs up to get a deeper angle, moaning into your cunt. Your leg goes up easily even though in real life, it would pinch. You’re not as flexible as he is.

"Dickie," you cry, tears slipping down your cheeks because it's so good, it feels real, you wish this was real, wish you had him back. 

He nips your thighs, groans into your sex. Dick ruts the mattress, the first loss of control he's shown. It makes you wetter, knowing that he's so gone for you. It's sick to like such a thing, but you never stopped loving him, not really. You can't seem to reckon the man from the monster. 

You come hard on his tongue, and he keeps licking until you push him away. 

"You haven't been touched in ages, I bet," he says, lips shiny with your arousal. His eyes are a brighter red. His chest heaves. He looks hungrier than before he started.

"Been a bit busy,” you say when your brain comes back online. “End of humanity and all that."

His eyes go soft. You hate that he can still make that look. 

"Why are you so stubborn? Why won't you let me take care of you? You belong at my side."

You scowl. "I don't belong anywhere, Dick. Certainly nowhere near you."

His eyes glitter and he grabs you by your hips and kisses you. You let him, because you're absolutely pathetic and because you haven't been touched in ages.

Dick laughs against your mouth and peppers kisses on your throat before pulling away. 

"I'll send your team food. They won't even know it's me," he says, half-lidded. "My beloved queen. You'll never starve. I didn't know it was so bad."

"I am not your queen and I don't need your charity. In fact, you know what? I'm waking up. Right now."

Dick smiles, and kisses your hand. Then he gets off of the bed, and fixes his collar. He must be aching in his slacks, dream or not, but he straightens up like he has all the time in the world to fuck you. Like he knows you’ll be back.

"Of course, my love. Whatever you want. Till next time."

The dream fades from a golden bedroom to your dark, tiny hole of a room you've camped in for a few months. 

You turn your head and look at the clock. It's still late. 

Your thighs ache. Your mouth tingles where he kissed you. 

You swore to never pledge yourself to the Vampire King. But you never made any such promises about Dick Grayson.

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x female reader #vampire dick grayson #vampire richard grayson #dc vs vampires #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #nightwing fanfiction #batman fanfiction

[willowser]

you find pro-hero touya naked on the sidewalk.

face down, ass up, and completely unmoving; it's a little after 5 in the morning, which is maybe why no one has found him or offered him any clothes. or finished him off.

it's nearly december, but all the ice around him has melted into a slick and dangerous sludge, and snowflakes are sizzling when they make contact with his back. skin a tender pink and baby-smooth; another reason you know he's still alive, aside from all the heat he's generating on such a frozen morning.

"hey," you nudge him lightly with the toe of your boot until he grunts and begins to stir. "i don't know how your quirk works, but laying in the cold like this can't be good for you."

some kind of nonsense noise fumbles out of his mouth as he squints up at you, frown etched so deep that it looks like it hurts. it almost feels like he's mega-wasted and is burning off a hangover, but you squat next to him and don't smell alcohol or weed or vomit or even nicotine. just ash, as the early morning wind stings the inside of your nose.

"c'mon man," you scoff when he turns his back to you, like a teenager not ready to get out of bed. "don't make me leave you out here."

pro-hero touya has tattoos everywhere — or at least in his most visible spots, with his costume. piercings, you're not so sure about; the last time you saw his face up close on a big screen, he might have had a vertical bar through his lip and several in his ears, but you vaguely remember a tabloid article about him almost getting his mouth ripped off during a high-speed chase. you know there's something though, a bunch of metal in his face and head.

this touya has nothing. none of it; born fresh right here, in the muck and the ice.

of course the first thing you think is: clone-touya.

some evil ne'er-do-well has obtained pieces of his dna and is trying to create a super weapon to destroy the city, and in a cruel twist of fate, you get to be the one that finds him. responsible, suddenly, for the could-be end of the world. least you can do is offer him your coat.

you try again at nudging him, with the side of your foot this time so as to put more weight into it, and, surprisingly, he complies rather easily, rolling completely over until he's flat on his back. exposed and bare to the elements.

"whoa," you mutter, eyes shooting up to the windows of the department store he's in front of. trying, at least, to offer him the small courtesy. "you're gonna get a public indecency charge at this point."

this is not the first time you've seen pro-hero touya's dick against your will; two years ago, some sex tape he made leaked and your co-worker was so excited to have it in her possession that it had been shoved into your face, sound and all, in the middle of your shift. there had been metal there, too, but this clone-touya is brand spanking new.

only one of his eyes is cracked open, a thin sliver of his icy blues peeking at you through a veil of snow-heavy lashes. something about him sprawled out on the concrete like a sloppy angel makes your heart squeeze, even if you don't particularly care much for him or his heroics.

"alright," you sigh, shrugging out of your coat to drape over his hips. "don't move, i guess."

it's lucky that he's half-alive right outside your job; in the following twenty minutes, you use your key to get back into the building and pick out a simple set of clothes from the men's section that you'll deduct from your paycheck later. when you come out of the back to find him again, he's at least pushed himself up into a sitting position and is coming to against the wall. in his lap, your fluffy jacket is damp and soggy and drooping and now useless.

if someone would have ever told you that one day you'd be here, helping to dress pro-hero touya like a toddler out of the bath, you — don't know what you would have said. laughed, maybe, eyebrows raised, totally lost. you feel much the same now.

a creeping unease has started at the base of your spine at his silence. finally dressed, he simply watches you, hazy, with half-lidded eyes, and you don't know what you're expecting from someone like him, but the cold shoulder is not it. it sucks that he's actually handsome because you didn't think you were the type of person to get caught up in him, but — all his features are sharp, like they've been carved by careful hands.

shorter in person, and, funny enough, that gives you the confidence to poke him in the cheek, like a brat.

"you okay in there?"

pro-hero touya doesn't retaliate to your impishness — which furthers your concern — only swallows and smacks his lips, squinting into the coming day as it dawns.

you take that as a no.

when you loop your arm through his, he lets you, and offers no objection to being led down the sidewalk. he's — warm, which you knew, but winter is sinking through your thin sweater and the plethora of heat rolling off him nearly has you purring. easy to sink in to, to your surprise, more than pliable in this fugue state.

there's a breakfast place not far from the department store and you think maybe he just needs to eat, or something. drink some water. you've been up since late last night with inventory and the thought of a fat stack of syrupy, buttermilk pancakes is motivation enough to hurry him along.

this early, there are very few people out to gawk at him on the street and you're glad for it, because you don't know how you'd explain this to your coworker if you were to end up in some tabloid. the most attention he garners is when you wrench open the doors to the cafe, and even then, the overtired, middle-aged woman just chews her gum and gestures to a table at the back.

when she brings water, you order a breakfast plate for him and yourself, and the first thing clone-touya says to you, after she's gone, is:

"i don't like pork."

you try not to make a big deal about him finally joining you in the physical world, settling for a shrug. "then don't eat it."

he snorts, still a little disjointed as he stares at the fading pattern of your table. you watch him take it all in: the salt and pepper shakers, the napkin container, the dead flies in the window pane, his tall, sweating glass.

all at once, he drinks it down so fast that some of it slips from the corners of his lips and down his chin, and when he wipes a limp hand across his mouth, you just scoot your glass across to him. and he does it all over again.

despite the weather, he wets a hand to run over his face. "what day is it?"

"thursday."

for some reason, he laughs once. huffy and short, scratchy. with a shake of his head, he turns towards the window, leaning into it like he needs to remember where he's at.

you don't think he is, but you still ask: "y'okay?"

his eyes cut to you, alive, and he considers you for a long moment. "you know who i am?"

you shrug, unable to tell if he's asking because he doesn't know, or if this is some kind of intimidation tactic. "think so." and then when he doesn't respond immediately, you tack on: "don't look right, though."

it makes him laugh, sharp and sudden. "yeah, right?" he shoves up his sleeves to trace the bare skin of his arms, rubbing his thumb over his wrist before making crescents with his nails. clone-touya goes silent again, and he doesn't look up until the food arrives.

before he can complain, you snatch the pork sausage off his plate and the quick action brings him back to the physical world again. back to the table and back to you.

he smiles like a ghost, mouth haunted on the pale, untouched skin of his face. "i have to work really hard at keeping my temperature regulated, or else my quirk will just—" he shrugs before downing another glass of water. when he finishes, he wipes a hand over his mouth, sloppy, and then takes an over-large bite of his pancakes. "eat me up."

you — don't really know what to say. this isn't a conversation topic you ever expected to have with him, not that you ever could have expected one to begin with, but you think he might just be — talking. to you, sure, but not to be polite.

"and if i just keep going and going and going," he speaks with food in his cheeks, and you're a little surprised at how bad his table manners are. but maybe he's just really hungry. "it'll just incinerate me into nothing."

so casually he says it, eyes far out the window, trained on the day as it wakes. you want to say that your clone theory is really coming together — how could he know all that, if he didn't actually incinerate himself into nothing? — but you take in his inkless arms and unpunctured nose and your stomach twists.

"so...then what?" when you speak up, his eyes cut across the table again, expression unchanged. his answer is a lazy gesture to himself with his fork. "you just...come back?"

"good news is," he laughs, insincere, "if i get a tattoo and hate it, i can just start all over again."

you don't know how to feel about that — well, you do, but you think your pity will only annoy him, so you say, "sounds like a waste of money."

clone-touya shrugs and you can see the food get caught in his throat, too large of a bite that has him stealing your water again. "got enough of it."

“your time, then?”

he doesn’t bother to look at you, as he shake his head; it feels rude, like some sort of dismissal. “what’s that fuckin’ matter?”

“okay,” you grit your teeth as he chews on your ice, and try to remember your own manners. maybe he’s grouchy because he just woke up from some kind of ash-nap. “what are you gaining from it?”

and that — has his jaw stilling, nostrils flaring as he finally, finally takes you in. whatever he finds in your face isn’t enough, and you’re reminded, again, that you really aren’t a big fan of this guy. he leans close as he whispers, “you wouldn’t get it.”

and you lean in just as close. “so explain it to me then.”

against the nearly empty plate, his cutlery sings when he drops it, suddenly. with food still stuffed into one side of his cheeks, he sits back in the booth and crosses his arms. childishly, you feel like you’ve won something, and your smile makes his eyes narrow.

“and who are you, anyway? some civilian?” clone-touya — or real, angry touya; you’re not sure anymore — doesn’t bother to keep his voice down, not even when the only other table in the cafe turns to look at him. “y’wanna know what it’s like to be daddy’s prized possession? fine. how much time you got?”

you shrug, crossing your arms as you lean into the table. hugging yourself, making yourself warm against the frost outside, and in his eyes. “what’s that matter?”

#HE’S SUCH A JERK but he’s just sad 🥺 #getting all he ever wanted isn’t what he thought it would be 🥺 #does he have any friends ?? anyone to confide in ???? does anyone CARE WAAAHHH #alexa play creep by radiohead #✿ willow writes #✿ thoughts: dabi/touya #✿ theme: pro hero touya

[jamdoughnutmagician]

Kiss It Better (Adrian Chase/Vigilante x Reader) 18+

A familiar face shows up at your apartment in need of some tender love and care, and who are you to deny him?

Word Count:2, 523 (oops!)

Warnings:Fluff, Smut, Mentions of injuries (nothing too graphic I think?), Blowjobs, Cowgirl Position, Nothing else I can think of unless I've missed something you want tagged (just send me a message!)

Authour's Note:First time writing for him (I can't believe it took me this long!) but I love him so much, and I just really wanted to have a stab at it!

Masterlist

You settle yourself against the soft cushions of your sofa with a heavy sigh, working a very long and tiresome shift in the emergency room had left you almost nodding off to sleep whilst the tv played quietly in front of your weary eyes.

Just as your eyes are about to flutter close you hear something knocking against your apartment’s window.

You reach your hand down by the side of the sofa where you keep a baseball bat at hand. Living alone in an apartment in a big city could get dangerous, and you never wanted to be without some kind of weapon to defend yourself, especially late at night.

Armed with your weapon of choice you stalk slowly towards where the noise is coming from, the knocking getting louder as you move closer. It’s only when you get close enough to your balcony window that you let the bat drop by your side with a huff.

“Adrian..” you sigh as you help him into your apartment through the window.

His soft brown curls are a little dishevelled as he looks at you with a guilty expression.

“I didn’t know where else to go, okay?” he huffs.

Adrian was your across-the-hall neighbour, living in the apartment opposite yours, and one night whilst you had been getting home from yet another late night shift, you had seen him battered and bruised leaning down, slumped against his front door. Gone was his casual outfit and tired expression from working downtown as a bus-boy at Fennel Fields. He was wearing what looked to be a very tattered teal and black tactical suit, and a pained expression on his face, wincing with every shift of his body.

Panic and worry filled your chest that day, which he tried to laugh off with a pained smile and an easy quip of ‘You should’ve seen the other guy’ 

You immediately rushed to his side, crouching down to meet him. 

“I think you had better come with me.” you tell him as you slip your arm under his shoulder to help support him. “Can you stand up for me?”

Despite clocking off from a long and arduous shift at the hospital, your nursing training and need to help those who needed it kicked in. You had already made the decision that you were going to help him, you just needed to get him to his feet and into your apartment where you could get a better look at him.    

The fact that you had admired him from afar and thought he was cute had nothing to do with why you wanted to look after him. Of course not.

“So, are you like an angel or something?” he asks, the question coming out as a little grumble as you helped him up to his feet.

Okay, so in addition to helping patch up his obvious injuries, you were also going to have to check him over for concussion.

“Not an angel, no, just a very concerned neighbour.”  You smiled, as you both made it through your apartment’s door without any trouble.

That night your adorably dorky neighbour spilled his secret to you. 

“Bus-boy by day, Vigilante by night. I’m basically batman.” he says all too proudly.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s quite what Batman does.” you dismiss with a soft shake of your head whilst you clean his wounds.

“You're lucky I didn't crack your skull open with this, Adrian.” You say as stashing away your baseball bat, before you guide him towards the small dining table in your apartment’s kitchenette. “Sit.” You instruct him, pulling out one of the chairs from under the table.

You reach into your kitchen cabinet, where you keep your first-aid kit handy. Truthfully you never really used it all that much, that was until you had met Adrian, after that you were going through band-aids and sterilised wipes way more than you ever had before. 

“Nice to see that you're prepared for anything.” He chuckles, wincing when the laugh hurts him a bit too much.

“Do I even want to know what happened this time?” You ask tentatively. You knew that Adrian had many targets on his back just by being Vigilante, it wasn't something that made him popular amongst the people who he found himself entangled with. 

His lip is split, and a few scratches and bruises decorate his freckled cheeks.

“I think the less I say, the better.” 

“Can I take your glasses off?” You ask.

He nods, and you reach out towards him to gently take the wire frames from his face.

“Okay, so, like, this is going to suck okay?” you tell him, as you reach for the disinfectant wipe to clean away the dried blood from his split lip, leaning in close to him make sure that his wounds are sufficiently cleaned.

He hisses as you clean him up, the disinfectant stinging his skin.

“Your lip should heal on its own after a few weeks. It’s not that deep, so lucky for you, you’re not going to need stitches.” 

“That’s good news, I suppose, can’t have the bad guys ruining this pretty face now, can I?” he laughed softly.

“Do you want Hello Kitty, or do you want Smurfs?” you ask him, holding out the selection of band-aids in front of him as you nod to the grazes on his knuckles.

“Hello Kitty, obviously. Never did trust the Smurfs. Little blue bastards.”

You wrap the band-aid around his finger gently, and settle back against your chair with a quiet huff.

“Thank you for taking care of me everytime.” He says shyly.

“Adrian..” 

“No, no I know, it’s probably not what you had planned for your Friday evening, y’know looking after me and all, but I just wanna let you know that I’m grateful for it.”

“How’d you even know I was going to be home? I could have been on call?”

“You leave your curtains open when you’re home, I can see the glow from the tv from the window.” he explains. “I know you like looking out into the city. You never leave your curtains open if you’re not home.”

  “Nice to know I’ve got the infamous Vigilante looking out for me.” you smile.

“Anytime you need me, I’d be there for you, you know that.” he murmurs, his head cast down, not daring to look at you. “I’d never want anything to happen to you, least of all because of me.”

Getting up from your seat you make your way over to him, tilting his head up to get him look at you.

“Every time you come here with a new set of injuries, I patch you up, we order a pizza and then you leave, and every time it gets harder and harder for me to pretend that I don’t care for you more than I should.” you admit, the words tumbling from your lips before you can stop them.

“Wait? Y-you like me? As in you, like, like-me like-me?” He bubbles, looking deep into your eyes.

“Adrian, that first day I patched you up, I brought you into my home, cleaned you up and we sat and watched Tangled on the couch, sharing slices of pepperoni pizza. If I didn’t like you I would have told you to just go to the doctors, and wished you all the best with your recovery.”

“I guess I feel a little better now, knowing you feel the same way.” he smiles. “Would I be a total dork if I asked if I could kiss you now?” he looked at you with a hopeful glint in his eyes.

“You’d still be a dork.” you smirk as you lean in closer to him. “..but lucky for you I happen to like dorks.” you whisper against his lips, carefully pressing delicate kisses to his lips so as not to hurt his split lip too much.

In kissing you, Adrian wraps his arms around your waist and brings you close, sitting you in his lap, with each of your thighs sitting astride his.  

“This is happening right, like I'm not having some sort of out-of-body fever dream right now?” 

“No, this very much is happening right now.” You purr in his ear, playfully tugging his earlobe between your teeth and shifting your hips down to grind against the growing bulge in his pants. “..and if you want, there could be a whole lot more happening if you follow me to the bedroom..”

Leading him by hand towards your bedroom you pull him towards your bed, gesturing for him to make himself comfortable. 

He sheds his tactical suit, leaving him in a pair of tight black boxers, the fabric of which were tented where his cock strained against its confines. Upon seeing him out of his gear you notice that his body also has taken a few hits, purple bruises blooming on his skin.

“Christ, Adrian, look at you. Come on, let me take you to the hospital, they can check you out proper-” 

“No!” He cuts you off quickly. “No. Hospitals just mean more questions and more people poking their nose into my business, and I don't need that. I'm fine, I promise. I just wanna spend my night with you. Please.” he tries to quieten your worries with soft kisses pressed to your lips.

“Okay..” you sigh in defeat, “..but if you start having trouble breathing, or anything feels weird, anything at all, you need to tell me alright?”

“Got it, doc,” he nods. “..Now, where were we?”

“I believe I was about to knock your socks off, Vigilante.” You say with a seductive giggle, joining Adrian of the plush blankets on your bed.

You hook your fingers into the elastic waistband of his boxers, whilst you look into his eyes. 

“Lift your hips up for me, please.” 

Adrian responds to your request, lifting up enough so that you can tug his boxers down his legs, throwing them over your shoulder to a dark corner of your room.

His cock springs free, slapping up towards the soft trail of hair grazing his lower stomach, dribbling a sticky patch of pre-cum on his skin. 

“Can I suck your cock, please?” you ask, looking up at him from under your eyelashes, as you place soft kisses to the inside of his thighs.

“Like I'm gonna say no to that.” he scoffs with a laugh. “It’s all yours.”

You settle yourself between his spread legs, lying down on your stomach.

You start by peppering kisses to the inside of his thigh, your lips inching closer and closer before deciding to take mercy on him and licking a stripe up his cock, and letting your tongue swipe over the pool of pre-cum the beads at his tip.   

His thighs flinch with sensitivity, a stifled whimper threatening to slip past his lips.

You take his length into your mouth, the flushed pink head of his cock almost bumping against the back of your throat as you bob your head over him. 

Gathering the mess of pre-cum and saliva in your mouth you drool over his cock, using your fist to pump slick strokes over him, whilst your lips suckle on the tip.

Your fist keeps working on his cock in wet, messy strokes, your hot mouth descending lower, taking his balls into your mouth. Letting your tongue sweep across the skin, and sucking them gently.

Above you Adrian looks the picture of blissful pleasure, his head thrown back, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as he tries his level best to not bury himself deep in your throat as you take him back into your mouth once more.

You suck him off for a little while longer, enjoying the heavy weight of him against your tongue before he's gently tapping you on your cheek, your eyes meeting his flushed expression.

“S-stop..” he huffs. “You're gonna make me cum if you keep that up.” 

“I thought that was the plan?” you murmur, pulling off him with spit-slick lips.

“It is, I just wanna be inside you when that happens.” he admits, as the flush on his face deepens.

“Alright then big boy, you're calling the shots.” you smile as you begin to shuffle up his body, sitting in his lap with his hard cock nestled between your wet cunt. Rolling your hips slightly so he feels the wet drag of your heat over every inch of him.

“A-ah fuck” he whines. “D-do you have any condoms?”

“Top drawer on your left.” You mumble against his neck, showering him with kisses.

He reaches into the drawer beside him, eyebrows drawing together when his hand comes into contact with something hard, and oddly shaped. Bringing out to get a better look at it, he suddenly realised what he's picked up. It's a small, pink vibrator. He pulls away to look at you, embarrassed slightly at his new-found discovery.

“Your other left, Genius.” you smirk taking it from his hands and putting it back in your drawer.

He reaches over to his other side, finally finding the box of condoms before ripping open the foil packet and sliding one on.

Reaching behind you, you take his length in your hand and position him at your entrance, sinking yourself down slowly, inch by inch until he’s fully seated in you.

You roll your hips slightly, in an experimental movement, testing the waters, but when you feel his hands settle on the curve of your ass, playfully squeezing the plump flesh, you gain confidence in your movements. Bouncing yourself over his cock happily.

“F-fuck you feel so good..pussy’s just pulling me in..” he babbles as he revels in the way you ride him.

You arch your back into your movements, breathy gasps slip from your lips every time his cock nudges deeper into you, hitting against that sweet spot that has your eyes fluttering closed in pleasure. 

“Just wanna stay buried in the pretty pussy..God, you're so tight..tell me you're close please.” he moans, his own hips thrusting up to meet you.  

“Please…” you whine, teetering on the edge of pleasure.

“You need a little extra, huh? Just need me to rub you right here, yeah?” he says all too cockily, his thumb finding your clit easily, rubbing quick little circles over it.

It didn’t take very more than a few more rolls of your hips, and Adrian pistoning up into you before you were riding out your release, clenching around him tightly, your walls hugging his length as you cum.

It also didn’t take Adrian very long to reach his high, spilling his release into the condom when he feels the way that your cunt squeezes his cock so perfectly, moaning into your mouth with a sloppily placed kiss.

You flop back against the bed with him holding you close, both of you steadily trying to catch your breaths.

“So you’ve got a vibrator, huh?” he laughs, harmlessly poking fun at you.

You lightly slap your hand against his arm with a laugh.

“If you’re not careful, I’ll end up using it on you.”

“Is that a promise?” 

Tagging a few moots but I know that this is a completely different character than I usually write for so absolutely feel free to ignore this complete, I don't mind at all!

@mrsjellymunson @penguinsandpotterheads @paybacksawitch @splendiferous-bitch

#adrian chase x reader #vigilante x reader #adrian chase x reader smut #vigilante x reader smut #adrian chase x female reader smut #adrian chase peacemaker

[verdanabdit]

They're the same age and decide to have their first drinks together. Still living in a cramped little space in New Home, they get a bottle of whatever the liquour store's clerk boredly recommends and take it home. They've seen drunks, and figure it'd be best to test these waters (or spirits, heh) in private.

The first shot tastes like poison and burns like bleach, but after a few minutes of it settling, it feels good. Calming, warm, but not fuzzy.

They cut the rest with what remains of the orange juice that's been sitting near empty in the fridge daring either of them to pour the last fourth of a cup for the last week or so. Still tastes awful, but it's good.

They share jokes, are a little more honest with how scathing their complaints about how the rest of the day was, and Papyrus says he hates their trash can. There's a chip in the rim that keeps cutting the bags and the bags don't really fit it in the first place so they keep falling down inside. Sans agrees, says yeah, fuck their trash can. They'd already taken the last bag out and the OJ carton is still on the table, so Papyrus knocks the empty trash can over in rebellion and Sans cheers. The neighbors shout for them to quiet down.

They talk about their savings, how nice it'd be to get out of the big city. They should run away from their shitty trash can. Dumb thing isn't even standing upright. They've wanted to leave for a long time. Tired of being little sardine nobodies in this jungle of buildings. Get out there and stretch their legs, see less than a hundred people they'll also forget by lunch time.

It's getting late, and it's real cozy on the couch. They lean into each-other, willing the other to fall down and be the pillow. Neither relents and it turns to pushing and laughing until Sans can't be bothered to fight anymore and falls over, his head resting on the arm of the couch and Papyrus's head resting on his chest. Papyrus says he likes their couch. They should take their couch with them when they run away from their trash can. It's soft and lumpy like Sans.

They snuggle closer and drift off to sleep.

~~~

I started this with the intention of almost-drunk confessions leading to a tender warm hazy couch makeout in a room only lit by outside street lamps, but then that didn't happen. Pretend that happened. Or don't and let it stay platonic. Whichever you like more.

#fontcest #fontcest (fsj) #imagineskels #imagineskels (fsj) #not explicitly shippy but read it however you want

[casspurrjoybell-17]

Heart’s Choice - Chapter 23 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

- Carlos -

Despite my best efforts to stay awake and be an interesting companion on the drive over to Shasta City, I fall asleep.

I wake up with a crick in my neck, sun burning one side of my face and John watching me from the other side of a stationary vehicle.

We're parked on the side of a street lined with semi-dilapidated houses, which despite their ramshackle appearance still manage to capture a bit of the mountain-town charm.

Craning my neck, I peer out the window but a row of trees obscures my view of the peak for which the town is named.

"Are we there yet?" I mumble, sitting up and rubbing my face.

"Yeah. You sure you're okay?"

"Fine. Just a little tired from my walk on the other side."

He eyes me skeptically.

"You'll be honest with me, won't you? If you're not okay, I mean."

"You got it, partner," I mutter and stretch to crack my back.

If I am being honest, I'm hungry and grumpy and tired despite my nap.

Usually, after expending as much psychic energy as I did this morning, I'd eat something chocolatey and caffeinated, a grande mocha Frappuccino sounds about perfect right now but for some reason I don't want to mention this.

John is so strong and stoic, I don't want to seem like I can't keep up.

Unfortunately, he's also unusually perceptive, for a guy.

"We'll try to make this quick," he says. "Then we'll get something to eat. There's a Black Bear Diner we can hit on the way out of town."

I look over at him, surprised and he winks.

"Becky and I may not have been married long but I learn fast. Driving for hours without stopping for something to eat is a cardinal sin of mine, apparently."

Great, now he's comparing me to his nagging ex- wife.

So much for matching his machismo.

I start to turn away when he interrupts my thoughts with a light touch on my arm.

When I look at him again, his expression is earnest and almost... tender.

"Carlos, having basic needs doesn't make you weak," he says. "If you're hungry, tired, thirsty or whatever, say something. I'm not gonna judge you for it. Fuck, if I saw what you described seeing in that place, I'd piss myself but you just brushed it off like it was no big deal. I'm not gonna think you're weak if you need to stop for a rest or something to eat. You're human."

"And you're not," I say, frowning at him. "And how do you know what I was thinking, anyway?"

His expression clouds and he backs off, facing forward again and staring out the windshield.

"I'm mostly human and it was just a lucky guess."

He nods at a house a little further down the street.

"You ready?"

"Sure."

"Good," he says. "Let's do this."

According to the Shasta City police, Daryl Sparks, P.I. lived with his wife and worked out of a small shed in his backyard, which he'd converted to an office.

As John parks in the weedy patch of dirt that serves as a driveway in front of a house that can most kindly be described as a 'fixer upper' I let out a low whistle.

"Guess the P.I. business wasn't booming, huh?"

"Sparks only got his license a few months ago," John says.

"Before that, he ran a pool business into the ground. His resume is a list of failed ventures and get-rich-quick schemes and he was up to his eyeballs in gambling debt. Our best guess is he was hoping to run a little extortion game on the side, blackmailing people he spied on for his paying clients. If so, it's not off to a great start."

I fail to hide my surprise.

"You think he found out who killed Kyle and tried to blackmail them?"

If a guy whose detective training probably consisted of watching reruns of Cops cracked the case while we're still in the dark, it doesn't say much for the official efforts.

"Maybe he got lucky," John says, as we walk up the overgrown path to the front door. "Or thought he did, right up until whoever he tried to blackmail used him for carving practice instead."

He rings the doorbell, the button of which is only half attached to the wall.

I see movement behind the frosted glass of the door and it opens to reveal a woman dressed in pajamas, a robe and fuzzy slippers.

Her hair is gathered in a messy bun on top of her head and yesterday's makeup smudges her face.

I don't hazard a guess at her age, given how haggard she looks, she could be anywhere between twenty-five and forty.

"Pearl Sparks?" John hangs back, keeping a non-threatening distance between us and the door, and holds out his badge.

"Yeah?"

"I'm Detective John Turner, of the Spring Lakes Police Department. This is my partner, Carlos Martinez."

She leans against the doorframe.

"Jesus, don't you people have something better to do than harass me? Like find the fuck who killed Daryl? I've answered your questions already. You have more, you can talk to my lawyer."

She starts to shut the door and John turns up the charm.

"Wait, Mrs. Sparks," he says, stepping forward and catching the door before she can close it. "We won't take long, I promise. We'd just like to have a look around Daryl's office. We just need your permission to come on the property."

She scowls a him but I can tell she's softening.

Another flash from John's mercurial autumn eyes and she's butter.

"Well, I guess that's alright. Just don't break anything."

"We'll be extra careful," he promises.

She nods.

"Fine. Lemme get the key. Meet me 'round back."

She shuts the door and John releases a breath.

"Fuck, I'm glad that worked."

I frown at him.

"Did you just 'Dracula' her?"

"What?"

I lower my voice.

"Like, vampire hypnosis, or whatever."

He laughs that low, breathy laugh that gets me in the balls.

"What? No. Why?"

I shake my head, almost certain he'd used some super-human influence to get his way with Mrs. Sparks, if he smiled at me like that, he could have his way all too easily.

"You okay?" he asks, for the second time in the last quarter hour.

"I'm fine," I say, brushing him off with maybe a little more asperity than necessary. "Let's not keep dear Mrs. Sparks waiting."

As we pick our way around the side of the house, stepping over bits of old fence and other rubbish, I rub my chest.

'Jealousy. That's what I'm feeling.'

I've heard it described before plenty of times and read about it in books, I thought I knew it pretty well, in fact, from my days of pining after people who'd already met their perfect match.

Nope. That, I realize now, was envy.

Jealousy is a whole different monster.

I envied what others had, saw them enjoying what I wanted.

What I just felt was jealousy over the prospect that someone else might take what's mine.

Which is ridiculous.

Because I remind myself as I trail behind him, my eyes wistfully brushing the span of his shoulders and imagining all the muscles beneath his shirt...

John isn't mine.

[thesinglesjukebox]

INDIGO DE SOUZA - "YOUNGER & DUMBER"

Another reflection on one's youth, via Vikram...

[7.38]

Vikram Joseph: "Younger & Dumber" is overwhelming in the sheer scope of its emotions. It's the confusing, intoxicating feeling of growing out of your teenage shell into someone you don't recognise. It's the knowledge that pain and heartbreak shape you into the person you've become, for better or for worse. It's the realisation that you contain tidal waves of feeling, enough to drown another person, enough to rupture the dams you may have built around your own heart without even knowing it. It feels like epiphany and takes me back to moments where I lay awake in bed and understood that my life was changing. And yet, for a song so heightened, the transformative power comes from its composure. An alt-country ballad that builds and breaks, builds and breaks, "Younger & Dumber" is so utterly self-possessed: unhurried and lucid, every production detail shimmering and perfect, from the crystalline piano to the billowing walls of percussion. (I will always be a sucker for pedal steel, but I'm not sure the instrument has ever glowed as much as it does here.) Indigo De Souza delivers a sensational vocal performance, exhibiting a wavering control that renders almost every line emotionally shattering. Just listen to the way she lets a syllable gently cave in on "prouder", the tiny vibrato on "over you" in the first chorus, her intuitive grasp of cadence, her flawless instinct for when to go big and when to drop to a whisper. In mood, scale and palate this makes me think variously of "All Systems Red", of "Thirteen Grand", of "Song For Zula", but it really is an absolutely singular achievement. "And the love I feel is so powerful it can take you anywhere," De Souza sings at the song's climax. May we all get to have that, at least from time to time; may we all get to remember how it feels when our lives change. [10]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: My favorite Indigo De Souza songs have a certain bite to them, an acrid taste that cuts through the lushness of the song's arrangements and the hookiness of their riffs. "Younger & Dumber" is more of a torch song, a vast and loping thing, and try as I might, I cannot quite get into it. Maybe it's missing some last lift, or maybe I just am not in a place right now to be moved by something this meditative and dreamy. [4]

Hannah Jocelyn: Slow-burning theatrics from Mitski and FKA Twigs, bathetic Midwest angst from Wednesday, slide guitar and chord progression from Mazzy Star, piano chords from The National, "lonely/alone" wordplay from everyone. I don't know why I would listen to this over any of the artists I just mentioned; it feels like a meal of tasty leftovers. [5]

Taylor Alatorre: A strung-together bracelet of country affectations that's crafted with such patience and tenderness that they cease to be affectations anymore. [8]

Brad Shoup: The lyrical bones remind me of Bill Callahan, following Chan Marshall to a little South Carolina town. She mended herself there; he eventually hightailed it to the big city. This is half a song about someone following someone they outgrew. And it's half a song about the peculiar intoxication of towering over everyone in your mind. That second half is supposed to justify the power-ballad structure, maybe, but I can't even detect the love, let alone wilt before its force. [4]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: Indigo De Souza's voice is the primary focus here, but the straightforward lyricism and general emotional arc only work because of the supporting cast. That first cymbal strike, in particular, arrives with the perfect amount of force. It feels like the warmth of a friend's hand during a hug -- the kind that comes without warning but is obviously needed because the rest of your body's so numb. The congeniality feels like Over the Rhine for the Phoebe Bridgers set. [6]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: Saccharine, maudlin, and wailing to the point of self-indulgence and self-parody. I had to look up Indigo De Souza's age (26) to confirm, but this is just bait for twentysomethings who are soon headed for 30. This is all to say: I'm the prime demographic. [7]

Katherine St Asaph: A colossal build and a devastating story. Despite the title, De Souza doesn't really blame her younger self for being dumber. Who among us gets to choose our formative influences? [8]

Michael Hong: The title itself implies growth: that with aging, De Souza has become smart. The proof is how she turns a track built around rage into love, a series of pained and furious howls shifting into a tender acceptance of the woman she's become. [8]

Dorian Sinclair: I can see two paths stretched ahead of me when I sit down to blurb "Younger & Dumber". One of them is deeply personal and is about the aching vulnerability and pain that can come with trusting somebody who abuses that trust, and the way that can rewire your entire brain for years after. How sometimes it means not only not feeling at home "in this town," but not feeling at home anywhere, and most especially not feeling at home with yourself. That blurb is about how despite (or because of) the lack of detail in De Souza's lyrics, it's easy to hear my own experiences reflected in her narrative. But that blurb is scary to write, and it's been too long since my last therapy appointment, so instead I'll just note that her voice is very expressive, her instrumentation is very pretty, and I'm a sucker for this kind of folksy confessional writing even when it's not reinventing the wheel. A pleasant song, even without any deep emotions involved. :) :) :) [8]

Ian Mathers: Too often, for very human reasons, we recast everything that's come before as either for the best because of where we are now, or the source all of our current problems, probing it like a wound we can't leave alone. But the same things that have helped build your strengths and brought you to your joys can be inextricable from the pains and traumas that you're still struggling with. De Souza saves "I didn't know better" for the end of the song, and by then it means something different from the clichéd way it's often used. How wonderful, and terrible, that we all start out not knowing any better. How wonderful, and terrible, that we never stay that way. (And the pedal steel. Why does the pedal steel here just kill me?) [9]

Nortey Dowuona: Indigo's voice is so deeply bracing that when she begins doing runs towards the end of the third verse, it is warming to feel the frustration -- not anger, not repair, not fury, frustration -- bleed though the words and through John James Tourville's slight pedal steel. It braces you because anyone who has loved and loved the wrong person feels that frustration; once one has finally vented their speed, all that is left is the frustration, the realization that the time spent chasing love with this person was a failure and is now gone. When we are young, loving that way is simply the way we know to love since we have no frame of reference of how to love someone, so the first time we feel it -- even and especially for friends -- is all and completely. As Indigo says, "Which way will I run when I'm over you?" Why stay or wait or try when the best option is to run from what has hurt you? Better to heal somewhere where you are safe. But "the love I I feel is so very real it'll drag you down," and so running feels at first like an admittance of failure. But that's what the young feel when they fail -- when I fail. It's the end of the world, the end of everything, we cannot survive it. And we -- I -- Indigo learn that we ran, we survived, we kept living, and we chose to love again. We learn but stay dumb. We age yet stay young. We keep wanting to lick the spoon. [9]

Aaron Bergstrom: I've spent most of my life angry at younger versions of myself. With the dangerous gift of hindsight, I have seen that my younger selves regularly failed to achieve perfection: they didn't know things, they didn't see things, they didn't take risks, they didn't possess the necessary skills, they didn't act when the moment was right. Those selves let me down over and over again, and it has always been so easy to blame them for my current hardships and failings. It's taken me a long time to forgive them, and even longer to realize that they had nothing to apologize for. This is the project of "Younger & Dumber," an immersive journey that clicks when you realize that every pronoun is one version of Indigo De Souza addressing another. No outside force made her somebody, just as no outside force made her sour. The song takes time to reveal itself, opening on the vulnerability of a plaintive country ballad, the flower waiting to be picked, dumb but proud. Each turn picks up layers of depth and texture, tentatively reaching out into the darkness for more, different, better selves. The way De Souza whispers "run" at 1:31 is the vocalization of an ambient, directionless longing that I've felt since before I can remember. "Go. Somewhere. Anywhere." It builds, slow but unstoppable, the march of time. Add but never subtract, even if you want to. Carry those mistakes, those failures. Try to use them. It gets bigger, louder, better (yes, better!), but also more complicated, splintered, fragmented, dissonant. At its apex, De Souza briefly harnesses the power of all those younger selves still inside of her, the power that could take her anywhere, the power that could drag her down. That's an incredible accomplishment. It ought to mean that she no longer needs to run. It ought to mean that she feels at home. But it doesn't. It's just one more self that will be seen as younger and dumber by those to follow. May your future selves be quick to forgive. [10]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

#indigo de souza #music #music writing #music reviews #music criticism #the singles jukebox #Youtube

[nuravity]

"Don't worry," Izuku said with a smile, "Hatsune came up with a solution. Very soon, Japan will be free from the Baku's influence. Iida came with a ray gun that's spreading the vaccine as we speak."

The Baku robots who were still intact seemed more desperate than usual. It was almost as if the robots were chasing them and running away at the same time. Soon, some Toy robots caught up to them and touched a few of them, making them convert into Toy robots themselves. This made some of the other Baku robots to run faster, only to trip and suffer the same fate.

"No!" the leader Baku robot screamed, "I can't lose like this!! Not again!! This world was mine!! I had full control!! How could I be losing it so quickly!!"

Eventually, all but the leader was purged. In an ironic turn of events, the being who spread fear all over the world was experiencing fear himself as the vaccinated Toy robots surrounded the leader.

"No...!!  Stay back...!! I'm warning you...!!"

The Toy robots just slowly got closer. They knew he couldn't escape, and they knew he couldn't fight back. All it took was one touch from them, and this robot would become one of them and could no longer harm this world.

"Don't you know who I am...?! I am the Baku!! I will haunt all the nightmares of the world!! You can't stop me!! I... I always come back!!"

His threats were fruitless. It was clear he was testified and knew deap down this was the end for him.

"Oh, Mr. Baku..." another familiar voice came out of the Toy robot in front that looked like a cat.

"H... Hikari...?" the lead Baku robot said in shock.

"Not quite," said the Toy Cat, "Like how you are a computer virus given the Baku's form, I am an antivirus given Hikari's form. It's quite sad. Even when you have no way out, you act all high and mighty instead of ask for forgiveness and change your ways. Even though you're responsible for the death of the real Hikari, she hoped that you'd turn from your evil ways. Even though I feel the same way, I was also created to eliminate the threat of the Baku Virus... And you're clearly still a threat."

Despite holding the Baku robots hand in a tender way, as if saying "I'm sorry," the Baku robot leader suffuered the most out of all the Baku robots as it was being purged from the robot body. He resisted as best he could, but eventually, he too feel apart and was replaced with a Toy robot. Soon, some of the Toy robots, including the Toy Cat Hikari was speaking through, began to followed Izuku as he continued to take Ochako back to U.A.

"We will protect you as you go back the safe haven," Hikari said, "None of the Baku robots can harm you while we're around. My sensors indicate that my vaccinated Toy robots have already outnumbered the Baku robots in the city. Aunty Mei's idea is a success."

Izuku chuckled at the fact that an antivirus A.I. calls Mei Hatsune "Aunty Mei."

"Yeah... It was," Izuku said.

What Hikari said was true. The Baku robots couldn't harm them while her Toy Robots were near them. In fact, the Baku robots ran away at the sight of the Toy robots. Hikari usually only needs to send one after them to purge the Baku Virus out of the robots and converting them into Toy robots themselves. Due to this, Izuku didn't need to run anymore. He still walked fast, since he wanted to help Uraraka recover as soon as possible, but he didn't have to waste energy running away since they weren't in any danger anymore thanks to Hikari.

"We're almost there," Hikari said, "I have a Nurse Toy Bear assist Recovery Girl. They'll help Uraraka get better."

Izuku nodded.

"Thank you, Hikari," he said, "You've been a big help to us."

"You're quite welcome," Hakari answered, "Be sure to thank Big Brother, Uncle Bakugou, Uncle Iida, and Aunty Mei as well, okay? Without them, I wouldn't exist to help you."

Izuku chuckled again. Looks like Kat-chan wasn't excluded from the aunt and uncle treatment.

...

Inside U.A., Izuku took Uraraka to Recovery Girl. Just like Hikari said, a Toy Bear robot dressed like a doctor was assisting Recovery Girl.

"Now, let's get you fixed up," Recovery Girl told Ochako, "Tell me where it hurts the most, and I'll use my quirk to heal you the best I can."

"She did?" Ochako asked in surprise and shock before glancing around again. Hikari wasn't anywhere to be seen but what she did see was that indeed. the viruses slowly being cornered by Toy robots.

The leader was obviously panicked as the other viruses were being purged and converted to more Toy robots. But one robot got his attention - one that looked like a cat. And apparently, the cat robot was Hikari herself! And after a heartfelt but ultimately, fruitless conversation, the leader was also purged.

That's when Ochako let out a sigh of relief. "It's finally over!"

And for extra safety measures, Hikari and the purged virus followed Ochako and Deku back to UA and it was reassuring to hear that eventually, all robots would be purged and that UA itself was already safe from the virus.

After Hikari mentioned Mei's invention to be a success and Deku chuckling at her calling Mei Auntie, Ochako spoke up. "Thank you, Hikari. Without you...I don't think I would've made it and defeated the virus."

Deku also thanked her and it wasn't long until Ochako found herself in front of Recovery Girl and a toy bear assisting her.

"I'm mostly okay. Just my head feels heavy a little," Ochako admitted after she asked her where it hurt the most, holding it for a moment.

#anon #answered ask #tumblr desktop is worse than the app #so no icon #also Kat-chan lol

[dergunsfanblog]

Due to reasons I haven't thought up yet shadow and sonic switch bodies!

When Shadow wakes up there's a pounding in his head, like a jackhammer straight to the temple. The little light shining through his cracked eyelids makes it worse, he quickly shuts his eyes, grimacing as he brings a hand up to tender head. Concussion, his lagging mind supplies. Luckily he's had worse, and can push past the pain, slowly opening his shaded eyes and letting them adjust to what little sunlight shines through his cracked fingers.

Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt like a bitch though.

He somehow manages to get his other hand under him and manages to push himself up into a sitting position. His muscles feel weak and wobbly, barely cooperating with him.

“Ugh, what happened?” Even his voice sounds off and raw. Maybe this concussion is worse than he thought…?

“Sonic!”

Shadow barely registers the words before somebody is hovering over him, blocking out the sun. He squints to try to focus his eyes on them, but he's having a hard time adjusting to the sudden change in light.

“Thank Chaos you’re ok! You and Shadow took a big fall after the explosion, we’ve been searching the rubble for hours now.” Shadow focuses on the hands that wrap around his body, helping him up, one hand under his armpits. He almost bristles at the breach of personal space, but even he knows he wouldn't be able to stand on his own right now. He really appreciates the help right now.

That is until the guy turns and yells, “Guys I found Sonic!”

He winces at the loud volume, the words take a moment to process in Shadow's head. He turns to the person -Knuckles, he can see now- in confusion.

“What?”

And then he notices the blue arm wrapped around Knuckle’s shoulders. His arm. His blue arm.

What the fuck...?

Is the last thought he has before he passes back out.

Shenanigans include:

Sonic learning how to run in shadows hover skates and flinging himself into a lake

Shadow discovers, after jumping in to save the panicking sonic, that Sonic is naturally a bad swimmer. Rip Sonic, I'm one too.

Later on, Shadow crashes into some trees running in Sonic's body. Though for different reasons, he can run normally, and knows what it's like running at fast speeds, he's just not used to his legs being so close together while running so fast, he keeps wanting to push his legs like he would on his hover skates. And that causes him to trip up. Tell no one.

They decide to hole up in Sonic's place mainly cuz it's not in the city. Less people to deal with. Sonic (as Shadow) greets Tails normally and Tails takes one look at them both, sighs, and goes "what did you do this time?"

Shadow calls Rouge to catch her up to speed, and they both agree GUN does not need to know what's happened, so Rouge has to come up with some excuse as to why Shadow won't be showing up for the foreseeable future. (I wanna say she makes up an amputation, buut it could also be something else idk yet.)

"I've never seen Shadow smile so much before." (talking about Sonic in Shadow’s body)

Shadow has to play hero as Sonic, because Sonic cannot be seen right now. If GUN finds out he's skirting work when he seems healthy there will be hell to pay later. So Shadow gets to experience for the first time; hero worship. It’s... something.

A very fun contrast of taste buds! "Why do chili dogs taste so horrible to you?!" Vs "why do you love chili dogs so much??" Shadow says as he eats his third one.

Another fun thought: Shadow experiencing hunger. All. The. Time. "Why do you need to eat so much??"

And Sonic dealing with insomnia! "I can't sleep! Why can't I sleep Shadow?!" "I don't need as much." "Do you know how boring it is to stay up for hours with nothing to do?!" "...yes." (I can feel the angst in this one and how Sonic tries to reassure Shadow or change the subject to hopefully lighten the mood.)

#Sonadow #dergies fanfic #uncomplete at this time #this is all i have in my google doc #but considering it was empty earlier today i consider this great progress #who knows when more will be made

[bangtanfancamp]

Champagne Silk | KNJ

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⋅summary: Almost year ago, you became the arranged bride of the most powerful man in the city, Kim Namjoon, but this morning, with you, he’s just a man who’s head over heels for you who can’t help getting lost thinking about his future with you.

Alternatively: no matter how powerful a man Namjoon is, he is still a klutz in the kitchen. A sexy klutz though.

⋅ author’s masterlist

⋅part two of the Silk series ( read part 1 here)

⋅also the second installment of breakfast with bangtan series (masterlist here)

⋅pairing: mafia!namjoon x reader

⋅genre: mafia! au, arranged marriage! Au, smut, fluff, angst, established relationship

⋅word count: 15.5k words

⋅rating: mature

⋅warnings: a generous amount of consensual sexual activities 🙃, brief scene of oral sex, impregnation kink, a shared bath tub, multiple instances of christiana being uncomfortable with using proper technical names for genitalia and being intentionally ambiguous instead. (honestly it’s more tame and wholesome than you think but god, if these two aren’t hot for each other )

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“Damn it.” 

The sound comes rumpled from the other side of the kitchen, like someone’s trying to keep it hidden. It’s so subdued and muttered that around anyone else, it might have been successfully hidden. But not right now. And certainly not with you. Because you know the distinct, adorable huff of your husband’s regret in an instant.

“You all right over there, darling?” There’s an innocence in your voice to hide your humor.

“Promise you won’t laugh if I tell you?” 

“Oh, unfortunately I can do no such thing, my love. You’ll just have to brave the odds and tell me.” 

Your smile is benevolent, but unyielding. You politely, pleasantly even, refuse to give him another option, and he knows it. It’s that simple. Even with his back to you, he knows the jig is up. As he hunches with heavy shoulders, he sighs and mutters something too low for you to pick up at first.

“Once more for the people in the back, yeah?” You tease.

“I said, I spilled wine on everything,” he exhales. 

His voice is tinged in shades of caramel, rich with resignation, as he confesses, stepping aside so you can see the mess he’s made. 

“Oh, Joon.” 

A terribly bright fondness pulls your lips into a smile as your clumsy giant sheepishly ducks his head across the room. His once pristine white shirt, his linen pants and your white antique tablecloth are all freshly dip dyed in swirls of Pinot Grigio and rosé.

“I know. I know. You don’t have to say it.” His eyes flit down to the stack of too many wine glasses slotted between his large fingers that have spilled their bounty across every available fabric surface.

“You have no idea what I’m about to say,” you point out graciously.

Crossing the room, you tip up on your toes to press a tender kiss to the spots where his jolly dimples would show if he weren’t so flustered. 

“MmmHmm. Sure I don’t.” He squints at you while you slip one glass at a time out of his grip and reach for a cloth.

“Precisely. You shouldn’t assume, Namjoon. You know what they say.” You smirk, wetting the cloth with water you know will be too frigid for him to stand in this half asleep state he’s in, but the stains have got to go.

“And what exactly do they say?” His large palms dip to rest on his hips as he braces for your commentary.

“Simply that assumptions only make an ass out of you and me so…”

His nose scrunches in distaste, even as he starts to laugh. “What a beastly phrase. I forget how much delicacy Americans have.” 

“Oh heaps of it. More than they know what to do with, really.” You shrug as you wring out the cloth. “Positively genteel. Is that not why you chose to marry one?” You add with a wry smile.

Glancing down at the bands on your finger, you warm at the way they glisten in the bits of lazy Sunday light filtering through the window. Namjoon’s glints golden across the room as he waits for your rescue. Both still new enough to feel like a novelty. Enough to make a small light inside you beam with pride whenever you catch sight of it.

“I chose to marry the only one I could find who was quick enough to get the stains I make out before they set and sweet enough not to give me grief for it.” He arches an eyebrow down at you in challenge as you slip one hand past the deeply undone row of buttons on his shirt to pull the fabric up and away from his skin as you begin to gently blot at the wine.

“Oh no. Well, I hate to inform you of this, but unfortunately, I’m actually 0 for 2 in those qualifications. But I will sincerely try my best since you’ve placed so much trust in me.” You chuckle as you set to work. “Would it be helpful if I mention what a smart wife you have to have ixnayed buying that cabernet sauvignon you wanted so badly, especially given your current predicament?”

Leaning forward, he presses a kiss to your forehead before dipping to press his nose against your own while shaking his head. 

“No. Not in the slightest.”

“See? That’s good to know. Would have been awful if I mentioned the Merlot I put back too then. Can you imagine? Could have been so unseamly.”

He laughs, smiling against your hairline. “Well, what would have been the point of whisking my bride all the way out to a little villa in wine country and inviting guests only to not serve them red wine?”

“The point would have been you not turning into the kool-aid man whenever said wine inevitably spilled all over you. Case in point.” You look up at him through wide, fluttered lashes as you press the icy cold cloth against a particularly bold splatter on his chest. The frigid water grazes his nipple through his thin shirt and your giant of a man winces like he was wounded on the playground.

“Hey, that’s freezing.” He moves to swat your hand away. 

“Would you rather just take this off then? So I can work properly,” You smirk.

“No,” he sighs. “That would just be colder.” 

He looks so adorable right now. The lavender locks you’d once loved so well have been replaced, faded into a dusty blonde instead. His thick hair, usually coiffed so neatly, so perfectly, is currently disheveled entirely. Bits that had been gently curated to frame his face the night before are now plastered to his forehead, others shooting off at odd angles, all from falling asleep on the couch beside you once your dinner guests finally left late last night. 

He’s still in last night's now stained and rumpled clothes, still looking absolutely divine with the sleeves cuffed against his elegant forearms and his now wide open neckline thanks to the buttons undone all the way down past his rib cage.

His body is every bit a grown man, but his sleepy features- those wide eyes and pouted lips- make him look every bit the little boy you saw once in his mothers photo albums the week of the wedding. Big Namjoon still makes the same faces when he makes a mess as little Namjoon, and it makes your heart squeeze in your chest.

“Don’t be such a weenie,” you tease. 

“Careful who you tease, woman. You’re the only one in this city who forgets how many people are afraid of me.”

“This city is half a day’s drive away. There’s no one to fear you here,Joonie. Besides, your enemies have clearly never seen how quickly you’d fall in a battle against the cold or else you would have been displaced ages ago,” you tease with a twinkle in your eyes as he narrows his at you.

“I don’t think you’d like ice water on your breasts first thing in the morning either.” He huffs under his breath.

“You never know til you try,” you wink.

“Would you like to try?” His eyes rake over you salaciously despite the tenderness in his smile. 

“No, I can’t say that I do,” you chuckle, pushing a palm against his chest. “Besides, it’s hardly first thing in the morning, Joon. It’s almost noon.” You nod toward the clock.

There’s still sleep in his voice when he laughs, the sounds rich and resonant where it blooms from his chest. “Well, it’s still morning for me when we didn’t fall asleep til well after 3 because our guests don’t know when to leave.”

You smile to yourself at the memory of time spent with your friends. Well, more accurately Namjoon’s friends, i.e. the members of his crew who have become like family to both of you. Namjoon’s been on the move so much with work lately that there’s been no time to simply sit and enjoy their company. You were in raptures when he suggested they join you for dinner last night.

“It was so good to see Hoseok and Jungkookie though. Their new girlfriends seem so sweet.” 

Namjoon’s gaze seems far off somewhere as he listens to you.“They do, don’t they? JK’s seemed spunky too. She’s good for him.” 

“I think so too. He spent half the night blushing- he was so happy. It was good to see him so over the moon for once, that little romantic.”

Namjoon smiles, a soft thing nestled in the pocket of his cheek, full of fondness for the youngest of his friends. “Yeah, I’m glad he finally found someone so good for him.” 

Pulling you in, he kisses you gently, once, twice before pressing his lips to the top of your forehead, an unspoken “as good as you are for me” hidden his warm brown eyes.

“Big softie,” you whisper, reaching up to cradle his face, thumb brushing over his cheeks. He tips his face toward your palm to plant a kiss there too, his lips just brushing the inside of your wedding band as you smile.

“For you? Always.”

“For me? It was the food last night. God, That charcuterie board Jin brought was positively masterful.” The memory alone has your mouth watering. “Such a shame it was all gone so soon though.”

“Ooo, speaking of,” Namjoon slips out of your grip to rustle around in the kitchen behind you. “Not quite.” 

“What did you do?” You narrow your eyes at him as you settle into a wooden chair to start tending to the swirling stains on the tablecloth.

“Oh, the best thing. Husband of the year level best thing.”

“Husband of the year? Can't wait to see this then. Very moderate expectations, indeed.”

With his back to you, you can’t see what he’s up to, but you can certainly hear it. Especially the low grunt when his hip snags on the new island counter. This poor man was clearly made for a different life than this old world kitchen provides. You wonder which will go first, your husband or the architectural detail. You chuckle to yourself until you realize exactly what it is he’s carrying.

“Kim Namjoon, is that-?”

“A mini stolen charcuterie board? You bet it is,” he winks your way, and a storm of winged things flutter in your stomach.

“How did you even-“

“When you had everyone gathered in the backyard, and Jimin tripped over the cord for the string lights.”

“I’ll never know how such a graceful man can cause such disasters. Or how you managed to befriend the only other man on earth as poised and clumsy as you all at once,” you chuckle, stealing a fig from the corner of the board as he peels back the plastic film covering it. “Oh my god, that’s so good.”

“Mmm Hmm. I knew you thought so,” he taps you on the nose lovingly. “You always ask Jin to make these for you, and then you’re always so sad when all twelve people you invite make it vanish in half an hour.”

“I know. I know. It would go farther if there were fewer people to share it with, but Joon, the boys are like family. I haven’t seen them all together in so long. I couldn’t bear to leave anyone out.”

There’s a twinkle glinting in his eyes as he smiles down at you. He’s glad to see how soft your heart somehow remains despite the life you both lead. 

“Which is precisely why I took the liberty of stashing some of this bounty away while the guests were busy and saving it for you.” 

When he smiles at you like that, all softened edges and warm brown eyes, it’s impossible not to fall in love with him all over again. It’s not like you’ve forgotten how kind he is or how striking he can be when he smiles. It’s simply that the more you see it, the more in love you become.

Rising up in your chair, you reach across the table to tenderly cradle his cheek.

“I hate to say this, because then you’ll know you were right, but this is really is an excellent submission for husband of the year. I would like to point out, though, that you are welcome to make as many entries as you’d like before the panel comes to a consensus, you know.” 

He smiles so wide that his eyes get lost in their beautifully crinkled edges. “I’ll keep it in mind. Now, they do say that you should play toward the judge’s preferences. Would you happen to know any? To help me get that inside edge.”

“Now, now. I can’t help you cheat. You’ll have to conduct your own research.”

“Is that so?”

“Absolutely. We have a strict moral code. They’d ruin me if I let that sort of intel slip.” You tilt your chin up in defiance despite your smirk and laughing eyes.

“Hmm. We can’t have that, can we? Shame. I really thought this was going to be my year.”

“Do you really think the only way you’d win is to cheat? Come now...it can still be your year if you play your cards right.”

Your hand drifts up to his carelessly perfect hair, fingers gliding through it and tugging a bit near his scalp. One of his favorite ways to receive affection you’ve found out this past year. His lids fall heavy before he can catch them, a small hiss catching behind his teeth that means you’ve done it right.

“Careful. You don’t know what you might be starting.” His eyes wander the edges of your lips, trace the frame of your collarbone.

“I’d never take the risk if I wasn’t ready to face the consequences.” The twist of your lips is subtle, as gentle as the seduction you’ve learned is your forte. 

Namjoon licks his lips, the lower one snagging in his teeth as his eyes drift over you. Without breaking his gaze, he takes a champagne grape from the board and lifts it to your lips. You can feel your pulse flutter and quicken beneath your skin. It always does when he eyes you like that.

The man might as well be a snake charmer for all the control you feel like you have over yourself right now as your mouth parts of its own accord for him. But just before the fruit can graze your lips, his grin widens- wicked with delight- as he decides to pop it in his own mouth instead.

His dimples are so deep as he laughs at your flustered state that you wish you could crawl inside them and hide.

“Ha Ha. Very funny, Joon. Tease the woman you claim to love. Excellent way to keep a happy wife.” 

Rolling your eyes, you push off from the table, fully intent on doing... you have no idea what, exactly. All you know is that you need to get away from this table as fast as you can before you knock the carefully preserved remnants of this charcuterie board to the floor and take him on the table.

 The blush that was rushing to your cheeks is now crashing in your ears and all you can think to do is “go,” but before you can get even half a step too far, Namjoon’s warm, impossibly large hand is already wrapping itself around your wrist and grounding you to your spot.

“All I want is a happy wife,” he laughs. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted. I thought I made that pretty clear from the first day.”

Slowly, he stands as his hand trails its way down to dance across your palm before lacing your fingers with his. 

“Certainly doesn’t feel like it right now,” you pout, despite the excitement thrumming in your veins. You know that look on his face now. The one that’s evil and beautiful, sincere and serpentine. The one that wants to devour you playfully. To love you even as he ruins you.

“Oh no,” he tsks. “That won’t do.” 

Suddenly, he snaps you to him, his hands fastening themselves to the dip in your waist. You gasp, the force making you brace against his smooth, exposed chest to catch yourself.

“It won’t?” Your voice comes out airy, too thin, as the morning breeze billows through the open windows. 

“No. Not at all. So I wanna know: how can I fix this, baby?” His eyes are possessed by something wicked as one hand leaves your waist to trace a thumb over your parted mouth.

“I- I”

“Shh, I made this mistake. I’ll make it right.” He arches a single brow as his tongue wets his lips, and your brain loses any grip on rational thinking.

“And h-how do you plan to do that?” It’s a whisper- too breathy, too barely coherent. His hands are so warm. His touch is like lightning and suddenly even breathing requires too much energy with the way you feel like you’ve shorted out.

“I don’t know. You tell me, baby.” His knuckle tips it’s way under your chin, tilting your face up to his as you follow in obedience.

“But… I thought… I told you. The judge can’t help.” You swallow, lashes fluttering shut as his breath ghosts over your lips.

“Then she can’t get what she wants,” he challenges.

“Fair enough. That’s fair.” Your head bobbles in assent. 

“So I’ll try this again,” his face dips down until his mouth rests just below your ear. “What do you want, baby?”

You feel lightheaded as you melt in hands, rushing out the words, “Counter. Now. Please.”

 Your expression folds in on itself in satisfaction when Namjoon grips you around the waist and plants you on the kitchen island without a moment's hesitation. You gasp, airy and quick, before his palm is fitted against the curve of your throat with just the amount of pressure he’s learned that you like.

“Good girl. Open your legs for me, baby.”

A muffled inhale later, your knees have parted where you’re sat on the island and Namjoon is fitted between them, his hips to the counter as he kisses you in earnest. 

“Oh my god,” you gasp as his tongue and open mouth work their way down your throat, painting wide open blossoms of scarlet and blush along the way. Your hands are in his hair, at his scalp, tugging and grabbing to bring him back to your kiss. His taste is tinged salty and sweet from your skin and the grapes, and your thighs wrap themselves tight around the narrow slope of him.

He’s gotten so broad since the wedding day. If you had trouble composing yourself around him then god only knows how you’ve survived the past year. His shoulders seem wider, his arms more substantial, his chest impossibly inviting as you claw at the last remaining buttons of his dress shirt. 

“Off. Off. Take this off.” You push at the sleeves that bunch around the arcs of his newly swollen biceps, taking a moment to drink in how beautiful they are as you clutch at his golden skin. 

“So eager now. What happened to my shy girl?” His voice is teasing, light, but his eyes look proud of you.

“You did things like this to her, and now she can’t get enough.” Your mouth fits itself to the beautiful stretch of bare skin beneath his ear, suckling the indescribable taste of him before traveling down his throat and across his jaw.

He laughs, something deep and melodic, before his fingers begin to glide over your collarbone and dance over your arms, featherlight, like he always does when he’s trying to rile you up.

“Should I get this out of our way then?” His fingers tug at the slim straps of your champagne blush dress. You’d worn it especially for him at last night’s party. You’d never forgotten his affinity for your skin draped in silk.

“Why? Don’t you like it?”

“Of course I do, baby. It’s perfect.”

“Then why do you want me to take it off?”

 Your voice is sticky sweet with innocence, but Namjoon knows better. He doesn’t know where you got the wherewithal to tease him right now as he holds you pressed against his growing warmth, but when your eyes flick to his, he knows you’ve made the right choice. He likes it when you challenge him. It makes it more fun when he wins.

“So I can do this,” he grins with a flash of his teeth.

Without missing a beat, he’s slipped both straps clean off your shoulders, leaving the dress to pool around your hips, and scoops one of your soft breasts gently into his mouth. Your breath comes sharp, a stuttered, inhaled moan that tastes as sweet to him as the ripened figs on the tray. Deliciously priceless. 

He still can’t get over you. He doesn’t think he ever could. He’s never reached a point where the sounds you make fail to set his world ablaze. He’d like nothing more than to make drawing them out of you every morning just like this his sole profession.

Reverently, his other hand brushes up your side to cradle your other breast beside it. God, they’re so soft. Namjoon is almost ashamed to admit how infatuated he is with your breasts.  It would be embarrassing if you weren’t equally in love with receiving all the attention he gives them.

What can he say? He’s a simple man. You’re the most beautiful woman in the world to him and for him? They’re perfect. Even with all the exploration the two of you have shared this past year, he knows this part of your body has got to be his favorite- your skin there is so velvet smooth and supple, so delicately sensitive, so perfectly sized for him to devour to his heart's content.

As his tongue warms the tender skin of your nipple with affection, and his thumb steadily plays with the other, he feels the muscled grip of your thighs tighten against him. The sounds you make for him as you clutch at the edge of the granite might as well be a symphony. He loves you like this. Wild and coming undone at his touch and attention. No one in the world but you and him.

“J-joon, baby.. I-“

Looking up at you through heavy eyes, entirely impressed with himself, he smiles and flicks his tongue against you again. When the jolt makes you jump, he stands to his full height above you, and sets his hands back on your sides.

“What is it, baby? You have to tell me.”

Your brows crumple in softly as you look up at him through your lashes. If you could speak, you would, but the way he plays you like an instrument with no effort at all always seems to dispose of your grace.

“But Namjoon…”  you’re trying and failing to catch your breath as both his thumbs come to lazily torment the soft swells of your chest. 

“You know what you like. You know what you want. Just tell me.”

You’ve barely got enough breath to function as it is, let alone to form a sentence. “But baby, I can’t…”

“Then I’m afraid you can’t have it.” He tuts. “Not if you can’t ask.” 

His grin is wicked, and as much you want to drown in it, something in you wants to wipe it off his pretty face.

“Not… fair…”

He runs his tongue over his teeth as he smiles.

“Really? Because to me, what’s not fair,” he grips your hips, snatching you forward that last little inch to sit snug against his hips, “is me giving you a prize you haven’t earned.”

His hands dip to cup the curve of your backside,

his fingers digging deep into the silk and softness he finds there as he continues.

“ What’s not fair is the way you teased me in this little dress last night when you knew there would be too many people around for me to enjoy it properly…”

Dipping down, his sumptuous lips brush your ear as he whispers, “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? What seeing you in this dress all night did to me?”  

As yet another lightheaded gasp leaves your lips, a dark, satisfied chuckle leaves his. 

“H-how would I know?” your air comes in shaky as he has his way with you

“You know, baby girl. You always know.”

 As his fingers dip firmly into the globes of your backside, he begins gently, just barely, rocking against you. No hurry. No fuss. Just maddening, slow pressure as he grazes you. When an airy moan comes whimpering from your lips, his strong hands tense, keeping your hips too fixed to succumb to moving with him.

“But you didn’t... say anything.”

Your eyes flutter closed as his face lowers toward yours. You can feel the brush of his lips ghosting over the edges of your cheek, his nose tracing against your skin.

“Don’t act like you couldn’t tell. You know silk always does me in.”

His fingers slip across your stomach where your dress has pooled to rest. They ghost like a whisper over your hips and down your legs until they reach the hem of your skirt. He fits his hands against your skin and drags them up achingly slowly, willing his touch to memorize the feel of your skin along the way as he pushes the fabric up inch by merciless inch- all while never stopping the insatiable way his lips move warm against yours.

His touch and his kiss are languid, unhurried, as he sets you on fire. When he reaches your thighs, his palms splay across them, his thumbs dragging along the inner swell of your legs as your vision begins to blur. 

He’s taking his time. He’s teasing you and enjoying it. It’s evident in the way he slows down the higher he gets. The way his mouth begins to travel down your throat in kisses so soft, so divinely sweet, that you swear you’re growing lightheaded from the swelling rush of pleasure.

His thumbs have made their way to the folds of your hips, his hands hidden beneath the fabric as your body lights up electric at his touch. Like if it shines bright enough for him, he might bless it with all that you know he is capable of. But even though he knows you’re more than willing, your tease doesnt satiate your body or her cravings for him just yet.

Instead, he slows down further. He fits his hands on the outer edges of your hip while his kisses turn gentle, calming, resolving, as if he has no intention of following through further after riling you up like this.

“What are you— why are you stopping?” Your eyes flit between his, a subtle , whining irritation building up beside your impatience when he doesn’t move. He’s quiet at first, in no rush to answer. As his beautiful face hovers over you, he's so smug you almost want to slap him for toying with you like this. 

But that won’t get you what you want. What you need. So Instead, you take one of his hands and press it to your breast as you guide the other toward the center of you.

He plays along at first, until his fingers are about to brush the part of you that’s positively tingling for his touch, and he abruptly pulls back, resting both of his hands on the countertop on either side of you.

“Ah, ah. That’s for when you use your words, my sweet.” He presses a kiss to your cheek, and suddenly, you’ve never been more greedy or more furious. 

Snatching at his waistband, you pull his hips forward and slip your hand over the linen to hold him. His breath catches at the back of his throat, and his eyes go wide, dumbfounded at the shift in power.

“And I said, the judge can’t tell you the answers.”

You level him with a look of quiet confidence as your fingers slip between his skin and the linen to hold him where he wants you most. His brows tip into softened u’s as the coolness of your touch brushes against him.

“Husband of the year should know what I want by now. I shouldn't have to tell him.”

You grasp him, fingers running delicately up the underside of him at the same time that you lick into his mouth. You feel him dip a bit as his knees buckle, making his hands on the counter the only thing holding him up.

“Mother of god,” he mumbles, even as his hips move in compliance with your touch. “Where did you learn that?”

“From the best,” you beam. Your smile is genuine, sweet and blindingly bright. It makes him want to take a bite out of the apples of your cheek, so he does. A playful nip that has you giggling and him pressing his lips together in fondness. 

The moment is sweet, until you catch his eyes with that same saccharine smile on your face, and take your hand away. His mouth opens, about to protest, until he watches you run your tongue in a long, slow stripe up your fingers before reaching back down behind his waistband to run the wet digits over his heated skin as you grasp him.

“Oh my… fuuuuck,” he exhales, his weight dropping to press into the counter. His face dips to lean against yours as he struggles to stay lucid. This feels so good, so out of nowhere, that his body is bursting to life more rapidly that he can keep up with. 

With every movement you make, he moves with you, gasping through his open mouth with every touch as he tries to keep his composure. Leaning into your forehead, he feels his nose bumping against yours as he searches for air. He feels nearly lightheaded but god, you’re incredible. Your touch feels so good- he never wants you to stop. 

Still, he wants control back though. To make you as much of a mewling mess as you’re currently making of him. He was enjoying the game you were both playing before, but he likes the feeling of winning more. However, just when he thinks he’s got a way to get the upper hand back, you ever so lightly twist your grip as you pump him, and suddenly, he can’t tell if he’s dying, ascending or blacking out. 

It feels so good so fast that he can barely remember his own name, let alone stage a coup. Your fingertips gently play with the tip of him at the top of each swell in your fluid flourish, and suddenly he can’t think of anything else to do with all this bursting excess inside of him but to kiss you. So he does. Open mouthed. Sloppy. Full of want. It feels so incredible that you can’t help but laugh brightly into his mouth, ethereally elegant, even as you wreck him. 

As you work, he can feel the way he’s growing harder with your attention, the way his blood feels like it’s singing the longer you touch him. His hips are obeying you like they belong to you, and at this point, he’s pretty sure they do. His mouth is painting your throat, adding swathes of crimson to the blooms he made before until your neck is colored with an entire bouquet of his affection. 

When he closes his eyes, the light behind them sparkles with effervescence as he listens to the quickness of your breath as you work. The sounds, the moans, the gasps you make as you touch him mingle with sounds of early morning nature and Namjoon wonders if this was what the poets meant when they described paradise. 

Pleasure is cresting over him in warm, molten waves now, and as it builds, he realizes he was wrong.

That as much as he loves your luminous eyes, your serene smile, the softness of your breasts, that those aren’t truly his favorite part of you if he’s honest. At least not right now. Not in moments like these. Because right now, with your hand wrapped around him, wrecking him with craving, that title is held by the treasure between your thighs; and as the blood rushes away from the rest of his body and swells where your hand lies, all he can think of, all he wants, is to bury himself in the wet, velvet warmth of you and never leave.

If he doesn’t get you naked with him inside you within the next three seconds, he thinks he might die.

So he does something about it.

“Open, baby. Open your legs for me,” he demands. It’s firm, commanding, but his eyes are so full of needy want that it’s hard to say who’s really in charge right now. 

Pushing your hand away and placing it on his chest, Namjoon kicks down his linen trousers and slides up your dress as you obey. He springs out, the length of him pressing into the meat of your thigh. It has you whimpering before you can catch yourself.

“God, I knew you were a smart boy. You’d figure it out eventually,” your voice is teasing, but your face is so dizzy, so desperate for him, that he could give you the whole world if you asked.

“You ready for me, baby?” His eyes are half blown with lust, his lashes hanging heavy as he runs his fingers over your opening, before collapsing against your shoulder. “ Oh my god.”

“What is it, Joon?”

“Nothing. I just,” he chuckles once, “I don’t think I’ll ever get over how wet you get for me.”

With no hesitation, he slips two fingers inside you as your belly contracts. Gasping his name, you can’t help but cling to him as light shoots through your body at the incredibly welcome feeling of his hands there.

“Nam- Namjoon, ah!” Wrapping your hands around his shoulders, you can feel your nails dig into his sturdy flesh as he begins rocking you with a motion so good, so fluid you fear you may simply float away and never touch the ground again.

“Yes, baby? What is it?” 

“You. I want you. Please.”

“You have me, baby.” His teeth are gritted in focus as he works you, his brow dipped low as he watches how easily you come undone with his attention. Warmth gushes over his fingers as he feels your walls contract in tandem with the tug of your hands in his hair. The sting is sharp and sublime as you grasp him tight with every part of you.

“Inside. Come inside. Need you. Now,” you plead. Your other hand trickles down his torso to the soft hair above his member before holding him firmly with a twist of your hand. He moans, hips canting into your delicate palm.

Namjoon doesn’t need to be told twice. Slipping his fingers out of the way, he scoops you safely to the edge of the island, one large hand stroking himself and guiding him to line up with your eager entrance.

The essence of you coats the tip of him without any effort, your body unfolding, so relaxed for him, as he easily begins to slip inside you. It’s so abundant that the slide is effortless, helping him bottom out almost immediately within you. Your head falls back in wonder as he does, your hands quickly planting against the cold counter to catch you. 

Wow. God, Namjoon’s body always has a tendency to overwhelm you, no matter how many times you get caught up in each other like this. You still can’t get over that. Honestly, it would be impossible to when he’s built like he is. 

He’s broad everywhere- that’s obvious to anyone. But here, he’s long and thick, with thighs like tree trunks powering each movement as he glides inside you. Any other time, you might have needed his help to adjust, for him to take his time to warm you up, but this morning? Your body is ready for him, and he knows it. 

It’s unfolding itself for him like a bloom to the sun, and he’s reverent enough to return its worship. You’re so wet that he can feel it trickling down his hip as he pistons into you, and he regrets not dipping down to sample a taste of it before coming inside. But now that he’s here, there’s absolutely no way he’s leaving the warmth of your walls until you're both falling over and spent.

Your ankles are crossed behind him, pulling him as close as you can get him, and his face is pressed against your neck and collarbone as both your hips work in dizzy tandem. The sensation of it sends his consciousness swirling as the pressure in his abdomen builds.

He’s convinced now that you’re a real, actual goddess. There’s no way you could make him feel this divine if you weren’t. Your ambrosia coats his thickness, spilling over him as he thrusts harder, deeper, tilting his hips to curve against that spot inside you that—

“Oh! God! Joon,” you yelp. “Yes, don’t stop.”

His grin is infectious. You can feel it against your skin as you pull him tighter, rocking in time with him as your euphoria builds. Your laugh is bright, sparkling as he licks his fingers and slips them swirling over the sensitive burst between your legs. Your breath catches, his name and profanity tumbling from your lips in equal measure.

You’re not sure how much more of this you can take. Your senses are on overload, your vision darkening around the edges as the pleasure he paints across your body escalates rapidly. Somewhere far off, you can hear his voice. His mouth is near your ear, his breath cooling your skin that’s become sticky with sweat, but you can’t understand, can’t wrap your brain around what he’s saying…

Until you realize that even fully coherent, you’d still be lost because your forever intoxicating husband has slipped back into his native tongue. You love it when this happens. With his senses so thoroughly drowning in you,  translating language just becomes too hard a thing to manage, so the harder and deeper he goes, the lower the bass in his voice becomes as he mumbles in korean against your ear.

You’ve learned enough to catch words like “beautiful” “perfect” and “God, I love you,” but the rest remain a mystery as he captures the innermost parts of your body for himself with swift, perfect strokes of his hips. The depth he’s reaching right now has you in raptures. It has your breath coming in short gasps as your breasts bounce buoyantly with each...incredible… thrust he delivers.

You won’t last much longer. You know it. And All you can think right now is how badly you want to look in his eyes when you come- which you know will happen any second now.

  Between his touch, his voice, the indescribable way he moves his hips when he’s inside you, and the crescendo you feel from the spot he’s internally caressing right now, you know you’re only moments away from dissolving into the atmosphere, yet all you want is more of him.

“Joon, baby, I’m so close. Look at me. Please,” you move one of the hands supporting you to hold his face and bring it to yours.

God, that please of yours. It flows so naturally from your lips when he has his way with you. He doesn’t know how to describe what it unleashes in him, but he knows it never fails to wreck him. “Shh, let go, baby girl. I’m right here. I got you.” 

Before he can think, he’s kissing you deeply, his tongue insatiable as he tastes you. He alternates between kissing you and pulling back to catch your eyes. The depth of affection in his gaze warms you brilliantly from the inside even as you swear you can practically feel his thrust against the underside of your lungs. 

His once seamless rhythm has become all feel and nuance. All order is long lost as he makes his last powerful dives into the depths of you. You can feel it- the tightness in his body, the firm set in his jaw, the profound depth of his voice as he praises your body in Korean. If you were to die like this, caught up in Namjoon’s impeccably loving, gracious body, you wouldn’t have a single regret.

There’s nothing more you could ask for. 

The glittering sensation pulsing through your body let’s you know it’s almost time to surrender, and you’re ready to come undone. Surely, there could be nothing more blissful than this— until Namjoon takes the hand he’s kept gripped around your waist and slips it up to your throat.

Your eyes go wide. 

He really was paying attention. Husband of the year, indeed. 

And just like that, the express trip to ecstasy nearly slams into your body. His eyes are locked on yours. He’s muttering a soft “good girl” and “that’s it, baby” as he works his powerful hips into you. He has one hand clamped firm and perfect below your jaw along your throat, and the other dancing elegantly along the bundle of nerves between your legs. He takes those fingers into his mouth to wet them, his face crumpling in a satisfied moan at the taste of you on his skin, before slipping them back where they belong. 

It’s altogether too much and you are lit up sparkling as the combined sensation of it all builds with the warmth of his body against you, within you. 

“Come for me, baby,” he says it clear and firm, his touch generous to help ease you over the edge. 

“Only if you come with me,” you breathe. Your eyes meet his as you try to find something to hold on to as the tension in you crests. 

He smiles then. All dimples and sweet eyes and perfect lips. He places a sweet kiss on your cheek beside your lips, and that’s all it takes to ruin you.

You feel your body contract around him in bliss as his name spills from your mouth. Making love to Namjoon has never felt commonplace, but there’s something about today. About him. About the sweetness of this morning in the middle of your perfect hidden home with him that makes you burst not only with pleasure, but with love. 

As your orgasm washes over you, you feel illuminated from within like the sun is glowing out of your skin as your body melts against him.

“I love you,” you whisper. “You’re so perfect.”

As your body floats back down from wherever you just astral projected from bliss, you can feel that his body is just a breath away from tipping over the edge itself. He’s pulling back, pulling out, intending to spill himself elsewhere, but in that instant, you realize you don’t want that.

Your memory flashes back to your wedding day. To the moment those hideous people decided to squawk about your child-rearing, heir-producing duty just hours after your vows, and Namjoon had cut them off immediately at the jump and whispered,” don’t pay them any mind. That happens when you’re ready. Not a second before,” soft against your ear. 

It was one of the first instances that made you realize what a good man he was. How willing he was to put your readiness, your comfort, before anyone or anything else. And now, as you take him in, as you remember how truly and deeply you love him, you realize you’re ready for there to be more.

You’ve had countless discussions with him about starting a family, and everytime, without missing a beat, his answer has always been, “whenever you’re ready, I’m ready.” 

You've come to learn over this past year that he’s wanted nothing more than to become a dad since he was a small boy.

You’ve gotten to witness how fun, gentle and gracious he is with his nephews. With Jimin’s daughter, his sweet godchild. For a year, you’ve watched him be good and kind to any child he meets, patient with you, subdued as he hides the depth of his desire to be a father behind his dimpled smiles and suave redirection when you bring it up. 

He’s been willing to wait for you. He never pushes. He never demands. And in this moment, as you study the face of the incredible man who’s welcomed you into his heart and his home, all you want is to begin the journey to give him what you know he will never ask for, even though it’s what the secret parts of his heart want the most. 

“Namjoon,” you whisper,” don’t. It’s okay. You can finish inside me.” You caress his face lovingly as his eyes go wide. 

“Really? But baby… I… what…” Your eternally eloquent man has gone slack jawed in his loss for words as his hips begin to still.

“It’s okay,” you nod. “I want you to. I want to feel you.” You kiss the dip of his dimple.

“Are you sure? i-“ he stumbles before you lovingly cut him off.

“I think it’s about time we start trying for our family, don’t you?” You whisper. Your fingers thread through his hair, brushing it out of his eyes as his face beams with light. His shoulders and chest are shaking with laughter as his eyes flit between yours and he smiles.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” His hands slip up to cradle your face, the most beautiful mixture of excitement and relief and the purest joy making his misty eyes look brilliant in the early light.

“Absolutely,” your voice is soft as you tip your nose against his. Your smile is all pearls and laughter as you reach to grab the full apples of his ass and push him into you.

He’s laughing and smiling and gasping when you do, before happily resuming the final few thrusts he would need to send himself over the edge.

“Use me, baby,” you whisper, eyes alight with the gentle seduction that always ruins him. “I want to feel you when you finish.”

Biting his lip, he swallows and nods, almost too eager, but you’re beautiful and warm and you’ve gotten so tight around him and he can’t help himself. He’s close. He’s already soo close. He’s spent nearly this whole morning trying to contain himself inside you despite the absolutely mind numbing feel of you, and here you are telling him to let go? It’s impossible that you’re real.

Pulling his face to you, he realizes you’re kissing him. Your honey sweet tongue has made a home in his mouth. Your soft breasts brush his chest with every thrust. Your hands are clutching his back and in his hair. Your heels pressed into the back of his legs to pull him close, and now he knows you want to carry his baby.

To allow your body to grow and change just to hold his seed, start his family and realize his dream of not only being a husband to you but a dad to your babies. He’s so in love with you. So maddeningly, ridiculously, stupidly, over the moon in love with you, and all at once, it’s happening.

His release is coming, strong and quick, and he can finally drown in the feeling of it happening while you surround him. His body is reeling at the burst of perfection he feels from losing himself in you like this. The cloud like swells of your thighs pressing around him might very well be the only thing holding him up.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, I love you.” His face is buried in your neck, your chest, your hair, your cheeks- everything all at once- his full lips dropping kisses on your skin like stars falling from heaven. 

When he pulls back to look at you, he can’t even put what he’s feeling into words. But it’s okay. Because you know. He can see it in your eyes.

Cradling his face, you smile up at him, eyes glossy and happy. “You ready?” 

“To have a baby with you?” His voice falters as his smile grows so wide his eyes nearly disappear. “There isn’t anything I want more.”

Pressing his forehead to yours as he hugs your waist, you both press your noses together and laugh. Overcome with something almost too sweet to simply be called happiness. The word seems too small to encompass it all.

“Maybe I’m not husband of the year yet, cause I definitely didn’t see that coming.” He chuckles.

“Oh shut up. I know you felt how you made me finish. You’re just showing off at this point.”

“I can’t have my baby girl leave anyway but satisfied with me.” He winks, and you smack his chest lightly.

“I’d be mad at you for being so smug if you weren’t actually as great as you think you are,” you scrunch your nose at him as he laughs.

“Well, if there are any areas of improvement I can work on, let me know. I hear I'm about to have a lot of time to workshop your suggestions.” Namjoon lovingly nips at your collarbone, and you tingle in bliss at the thought of how many more moments like this lie in your near future.

“Duly noted. On that note then, I feel compelled to point out that what you just did counted as an excellent submission for husband of the year.”

“Oh really?” He licks his lips slowly as you nod.

“Remember- you can make as many entries as you want.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah. Limitless,” you assent. 

“Good to know. I’ll keep it mind,” he smirks, dipping down to lift the fullness of one of your breasts into his hand as he gently kisses the top of the swell of flesh. You sigh into his kiss. This is going to be a spectacular journey— you can already tell.

“Namjoon.”

“Hmm?” His eyes perk up, though his mouth never leaves its preoccupation with your bare chest.

“Is this… is this okay? I hope I didn’t spring this on you too soon or… I don’t know...too out of the blue? Because your comfort is important too, and I—“

You’re swiftly cut off by the sweet press of Namjoon’s delicious lips against yours. “Shh. Yes, I want this. More than anything.”

“So my timing wasn’t—“

“No. It was perfect. You’re perfect,” he kisses the tip of your nose as your lips bloom into a smile. “And if we are going to try to fill that cute belly of yours with a baby, then maybe… maybe this shouldn’t just be a weekend visit.”

Tipping your head to look at him, you feel your brows scrunch. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, this has always been our getaway spot. A place to stay safe and lie low when things get jumpy in the city. A place to take you when we want to be alone. Truly be alone. But if…” he hesitates, lacing your hand with his and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “If you’re going to be carrying my baby, I want to keep you safe. I promised you that the day I met you- I’d never let anything happen to you. It’s been risky enough to have you in the city all this time as it is.”

“So...what exactly are you suggesting, love?” You run your thumb lovingly over his knuckles.

“I’m proposing if you do get pregnant, we move you out here. Permanently. Or at least somewhat long term.”

“Wait…” you pull away, eyes clouding as you do. “Alone? Without you?”

“No. No. I didn’t word that right. I’d be here as much as i can, and I’d send the security detail to stay out here whenever I have to leave so—“

“Namjoon, I don’t want to be all the way out here by myself. Surely, that’s not necessary.”

He frowns as he tries to gather his thoughts. “This is coming out wrong...You wouldn’t be fully by yourself. I’d be here as much as I can. I just... want you protected. Safe. And out of the city while you're carrying something so precious.” The backs of his knuckles graze your stomach. 

“But I don’t understand. Why—“

“I don’t want anyone to hurt you.” His voice has turned solemn, his eyes an odd shade of vulnerability when they meet yours. 

“Joon, nobody’s gonna do anything. You’ve made that city so secure-nobody could hurt me even if they tried.”

Something stormy and troubled clouds his eyes.It makes you wonder if there are things he hasn’t told you. Things he’s kept to himself to ensure that your life is as peaceful as possible. You wonder what kind of darkness he’s had to swallow for your sake. 

“But they have tried.”

It's news to you. 

“What do you mean… when?” 

“It’s happened a few times. Nothing ever got far enough to warrant bringing it up.”

“What on earth? Joon, why in the world wouldn’t you tell me that?” 

He sighs once, from some deep place in his bones. “Because i never wanted to have to see the look in your eyes that I do right now.”

Suddenly, any anger you held vanishes all at once. 

“Baby, why are you carrying something like that all by yourself?”

“So you don’t have to. I promised I’d keep you safe, and I meant it. That includes taking care of your peace of mind. Something you won’t have if you knew how many times someone’s shot off at the mouth about coming for you because they’re irate at me or how many times someone has done more than just talked and actually tried.”

It’s a sobering thought.

“Is that… is that the real reason why you never pushed for an heir?” For reasons you can’t explain, the idea makes you want to cry. Namjoon sees the shift immediately, his fingers ready to brush your tears before they even fall.

“Shhh, hey. No. I mean, it’s part of it. You know all I’ve ever wanted was to be a parent. When I married you, please know the idea of you being the mother of my children sent me over the moon, but I know this world. How people take what they want. Do what they want. I wanted better for you.” He runs his fingers soft over your cheek like you’re some spun glass artifact he needs to protect. 

“I wanted to be better for you than the men in this world were going to give you. I promised myself that I was never going to demand anything from you. That’s why I didn’t push for an heir. I meant it when I said we go at your pace. Always.”

Sniffling, you look up at him through wet lashes. 

“Joon, protecting me doesn’t mean you hide the truth from me.”

“Not even if it would hurt you? Scare you?”

“I knew what I was signing up for when I agreed to marry you. It’s so kind of you to try to take these burdens so I don’t have to, but then who carries them for you? That’s my job. You have to let me do it.”

Closing his eyes, he exhales long and slow through his nose. 

“You really mean it, don’t you? You really want to know.”

“Yes,” you nod, caressing his face. He looks troubled. You’d give anything to help take some of his cares away.

“Then you should know why we came to the villa this weekend.”

“So it wasn’t just for a getaway?” You brace yourself for whatever it is you’re about to hear.

“It is, and it isn’t. I guess I have to go back a bit for this to make any sense, but my family isn’t from here. You know that. Our roots don’t go back as many generations as yours do, so when the new kid on the block started gaining power in this city faster than anyone had seen before, there were a lot of families that weren’t happy about it.

Especially not when the daughter of one of the oldest families in the city became my bride. There had already been a lot of grumbling against me before I made such a powerful ally, and there were certainly plenty after. Anything we’d stumbled on over the last few months had been mostly hearsay, but…”

“What is it, Joon?” You're worried now. You can hear the way his voice sounds choked.

“There was a deal that went wrong a few weeks back. Just a skirmish with some lower level captains that got out of control, but I thought I’d put a pin in it. Turns out the other family involved hadn’t let it go like I thought …” he stops, eyes going cold as color drains from his face.

“Baby, it’s okay. You can tell me,” you reassure. 

Closing his eyes, he licks his lips and takes a deep breath, his voice lower, raspier when he continues. “There was a hit put out on you this past week.

You’re shocked. “There— what?”

”It’s okay now. Jungkook caught intel on it soon enough that he crushed it before the people responsible could hurt you, but I've never seen anyone get this close. Y/n, I couldn't breathe when he told me. When I found out, I nearly lost my mind. I called you immediately to make sure you were safe— I couldn’t breathe til I heard your voice.”

You had no idea he’d been through that. You can’t imagine what you would have done if the roles were reversed, if you’d been seconds away from losing him. It would’ve shattered you. You’re not sure how he’s still standing.

“Once I knew you were okay, the first thing I could think was that I needed to get you out of town as fast as I possibly could. Something’s building in that city, y/n. The lower families are tired of their rank. They’re itching to get back any sort of power they can- it’s making them reckless. There’s rumors of a war building…I’d dismissed it so far. Didn’t think they were a real threat until they had the nerve to try something like this. We squashed it, but this was too close, and I’m not willing to risk you.”

Realization dawns across your face. “That’s why we left with less than an hour's notice. I’d thought you were just being romantic about a weekend getaway but ...That’s why we came to this safe house and not the one on the edge of town, isn’t it?”

His eyes fall away as he nods, “That’s why our security detail was thicker than usual.”

“But I've hardly seen anyone.”

“That’s on purpose. I didn’t want to scare you.  Didn't want to draw attention to a whole parade leaving town so I had them follow us at a distance. They’re stationed all around the property and schooled to stay out of sight.”

“What about the boys? Was it safe to have them here this weekend with their wives? Their girlfriends? Didn’t we put them in danger?” Your rounded eyes betray the sudden guilt you feel for what you thought had been such a beautiful night.

“Shh, no. Hey, they’re fine. I had them all moved out to safe houses not too far from here with a security detail on them too. They’re just a few miles from here. That’s why I didn’t feel bad about them driving out last night- they didn’t have to go all the way back to the city, just to our guest houses and then their safe houses in the morning….I’m having them all lie low for a little while. Figured they’d want their girlfriends and wives as close to their side as I want mine. Thought having them over was a good distraction for a night.”

You had no idea. Something cold runs up your spine at the thought that this weekend, this beautifully perfect day could’ve been so different. Or perhaps not even happened at all. 

Slipping your dress back into place, you cover yourself. It feels wrong to have this conversation half naked. Namjoon seems to sense it too as he pulls his pants back on. He offers to help ease you down from the counter, picking you up and placing you gently on the whitewashed floorboards, making sure you’re steady before he lets you go. 

Under any other circumstances, you’d laugh at how he has to make you sure you’re stable enough not to keel over where you stand after blessing you with an orgasm so bright it makes your soul radiate around your body. Now though, you find your hand cradling your lower belly, feeling entirely naive for thinking now was the time to bless the world with Namjoon’s child. You should say something, but the words get stuck in your throat…. you feel like a fool.

“I’m gonna make us some coffee, yeah? You want a cup?” Namjoon offers softly. When you look up, he looks so worn out all of a sudden. Like he’s somehow aged years during the course of this conversation. Like he really does need a cup of coffee, if not something stronger.

“Sure, baby. I’ll take one.”

Nodding, he presses a kiss to your forehead before he plugs in the black gooseneck kettle you’d gotten him for his birthday. The gift had been simple, thoughtful, and if he was honest, it was the best present anyone had ever given him.

He practically survives on black coffee most days. At the beginning of your marriage, he was always long gone before you rose most mornings, so in an attempt to slow him down and have more time with him, you’d gotten him a pour over set and a gooseneck kettle to replace his old instant apparatus.

He wondered if you were aware of all the additional gifts it had given him along the way....It required time to steep and brew. Time he’d never given himself before he met you. The methodology of it soothed him, provided his mornings with a small structure and routine he’d never had in a lifestyle marked by so much chaos. 

Taking the time to make his absolutely necessary coffee this way helped wake him up gently, slowed him down enough for you to have the time to slip out of bed and catch him before he was gone, to hold him while he prepared it. To remind him of the precious reason he needed to be careful while he was out that day. 

As the water boils, he turns his back to you. He feels himself melt when your arms wind around him. Softly, you press a kiss between his shoulder blades before your touch slips away as quietly as it appeared. The subtle sounds of your footsteps fading as you walk away and the gentle buzzing of the kettle are all that fill the room in the silence between you.

Namjoon sighs as he turns, his arms crossed as he leans against the counter to watch you.  Without a word, you silently procure a hearty loaf of fresh,crusty bread from the pantry and begin to slice it for breakfast. As your head tips down in concentration, he watches your untamed hair fall in your eyes. It’s beautiful the way it frames your face. It makes something squeeze in the center of his chest.

Crossing the room, he comes to stand beside you, lightly brushing your hair back into place for you with his hand. You still in your task, closing your eyes and leaning into his touch.

“Namjoon?”

“Yes, baby?” 

“If it’s this dangerous…” your voice is barely above a whisper, “this unsafe… does that mean we shouldn’t have a baby?” When you look up at him, your eyes are starlit with tears. Your hands are trembling, and he hates to see you so sad.

“No. You’re ready, and I want a family,”’he soothes.

“But… but if there’s this much risk, how can our child ever have a normal life? Won’t we always be afraid for them all the time? Is that selfish? To make a life that has to live in this world just because we want them to?”

He brushes his fingers over the cascade of teardrops starting to fall from your eyes. “All parents have to worry about that, y/n. This world is still a scary place even outside my line of work.”

“I know. But they don’t have to worry about a hit on their child’s life or a ransom or generation’s old grudges putting their child at risk....They just have to worry about whether or not a child in their daughter’s class has a peanut allergy because little ashley will only eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches right now and nothing else.”

You’re talking with your hands as Namjoon gives you a smile that’s equally warm and sad. “That’s a really specific scenario.”

“I went through a phase in first grade, okay?”

He finds your eyes until you laugh before pulling you in tight against his chest. “First of all, that’s adorable. We’ll address that again later because little y/n sounds incredibly cute. And secondly,” he sighs,” you grew up in this world- the same as me- and we both survived. Having a child is expected of us, yes, but if that’s not what you want... it doesn’t have to happen. But, if we both want one… if being a mom will make you happy, then I’m going to find a way to give you that.” There’s a heaviness about him right now. An authority resigned to accept whatever fate weighs on your heart the most as he watches your eyes fill with questions.

“But won’t we be afraid for them all the time? I feel so naive for only thinking of how much I’d like to meet them, how much I’d love them just because they’re a part of you, when I should have known better.”

“That’s not naive. That’s beautiful. No matter what they’re like, we’ll love them. Because they’re ours.”

“What if they don’t want any part of this world? They should have a choice… but can I even give them one or will their only option be serving as the new head of the Kim family one day?” Your face looks stricken. “Did you get to choose?” Your watery eyes flit up to his. 

He swallows, face stony as you survey him. “I did what I had to do so our life can look however we want it to,” he’s sighing again, worn out out by memories you may never see. “Look, you’re my wife, and I’m your husband. As far as I’m concerned, we’re the ones get to decide what’s right for us, y/n. I’ve told you that, and I meant it- that extends to our children too. Their lives don’t have to look like what anyone else wants but them. I don’t care if they want to be painters or accountants or captains in the family. They get to shape the life they want. That’s what I’ve worked so hard for.”

You feel your eyes flutter shut in relief on their own accord. Of course he’s already thought this through to this degree. When has your Namjoon ever done anything less? It soothes your mind to know he’s taken the time to lay the groundwork so you don’t have to. Still though, questions you’re ashamed didn't occur to you sooner rattle through your head and spill from your mouth.

“Do they have to spend their life in boarding school like I did? Are our only options to send them away or be scared for them every day?

“Y/n, no. We’ll find what works for our family. I want that with you- figuring that out and watching them grow. I’ll keep you both safe. However I have to. I promise you.” His thumb brushes over your ring as he holds your hand against his chest. “I promised you.”

And just like that, it hits you all over again- how much you love this man. How deeply you trust him with every fiber of your being. How you couldn’t have found a better man to love you if you’d tried. You two are it for each other- you’ve known it since the day you met him on the steps.

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispers, kissing your knuckles,”... but, y/n?”

Your eyes flit up to meet his. “Yes, love ?”

“I meant what I said. If this is all too much, if this scares you, we can wait.” His brown eyes are so deep and sincere. You know every part of him means it, and it’s precisely because of that, that you say the words you do.

“No. I want this. All of this. With you. We’ll figure this out,” you nod, gently pulling the back of his neck down so your foreheads are touching. “I want to have a baby with you. I’m all in, if you are.”

You can feel the rush of tension that leaves his body. He wraps you in his arms, so close and secure, and something innocent comes from him that you don’t think you’ve ever heard.

“God, you know I am. Thank you.”

His voice is as robust and full as always, but his eyes… there’s something so young and soft and terrified in them. Like the weight of all he’s been carrying alone has crashed down on him all at once. “I’m so excited to have a baby with you if it happens. And it’s okay if it doesn’t. But I can’t wait to try.”

You’re nodding and crying, and you realize something that perhaps has never dawned on you before. This is the first time you’ve seen him truly this vulnerable. He’s always so strong, so composed. Too busy holding up an entire empire and caring for you to let his walls fully fall. 

But as he buries his face in your neck, you suddenly feel dampness pooling against your skin and realize he’s crying. You wonder how you got here on a morning that had been so serene and full of bliss. Bliss you now realize has come at a price.

“I was so scared I'd lost you the day we came here.” Slipping your hand into his hair, the other soothes his back as he clings to you tighter. “I'm so glad you’re okay. You’re so smart. I know you are. You don’t make reckless mistakes when you’re out— you take good care of yourself— but I was so afraid. My heart dropped when Jungkook told me what he’d heard. He couldn’t calm me down until I heard your voice on the phone.”

Stroking his hair, you recall the phone call just a few days ago. How strangled and out of breath he’d sounded. How you’d asked if he was okay, and he’d simply said he was now.

“It’s okay. I’m right here. It’s okay.” 

He takes a moment to collect himself, pressing you so close you may fuse together. It’s unguarded, and precious. Something you know both of you treasure as he nuzzles into your skin in that space along your neck where his face perfectly fits.

It’s as simple as that. You both stay like this for as long as you can, secure in his embrace, your breathing settling until it’s nearly in sync. It’s peaceful for you, cathartic for him. It’s a moment framed by a different kind of intimacy than the one you both shared in this very room less than an hour ago. 

He shows no sign of letting you go until the kettle begins to howl for him from across the room. When he does, his fingers trace the silk fabric along your waist as his lips kiss your forehead. He takes one more heavy breath before he squeezes you in release to tend to the coffee.

“Cream and sugar?” He asks, his voice thicker than usual.

“Always,” you answer.

And so the morning resets itself. 

The day shifts into afternoon. The sun drifting higher, brighter, casting the shadows and ridges of Namjoon’s sculpted body in almost Grecian relief as he carefully pours the water for both of you over the coffee grounds. You finish slicing the crackling bread loaf and bring it to the table to place it beside the remnants of Seokjin’s charcuterie board. 

It’s only when you catch sight of your lacy table cloth that you remember the accident that started the whole morning to begin with. You’d both gotten so preoccupied with each other that you never made it any further than cleaning his shirt and not the rest of the disaster.

Smiling to yourself, you gently slide the cloth off the table and fill the sink with cold water to soak it. Looking over at your husband, you realize wine stains still swirl over the front of Namjoon’s linen pants. There’s a very good chance those are fully set now, but just in case, you might as well try to fix them. 

So, gently, you hook a finger into his waistband and tug. “Let me have these.”

“Round two all ready? Greedy girl.” He winks, his voice soft as follows the drip of his Colombian roast.

“No, smart girl. We did a terrible job of getting you cleaned up.” You pop the p at the end of the word as you snap the elastic on his pants.

Looking a bit lost, Namjoon glances down to see the lovely pastel splashes of rosé running clean down the front of his pants. He’d been too busy to notice once you’d gotten him out of them. Blushing for no reason other than the embarrassment of you having to clean up his foibles, Namjoon dips down to remove the trousers, leaving himself looking statuesque and unreasonably gorgeous in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs in the afternoon light as he tends to the coffee.

You feel terribly immature over how quickly affected you are by the sight of him in his current predicament and carefully take the pants from him, only to turn abruptly in search of some fresh air and relief. Namjoon catches your equally flustered state, smiling to himself, but doesn’t acknowledge it out loud. This spell of quiet that’s settled over the room is too peaceful to break.

Once the coffee’s done, he brings both your cups to the broad heirloom table, and you enjoy breakfast… or, he supposes, brunch at this point...together in the stillness. Every bite you take is piled high with prosciutto and fig while Namjoon drizzles honey on his slices of bread. 

It’s peaceful, idyllic. Tranquil enough to forget the world that awaits him back in the city.

It’s funny, the duality of his life. How easy it becomes in moments like these to lean into the simplicity of breakfast with his lover and ignore the undulating danger and uncertainty awaiting him in the rest of his world. It makes him realize how much he’s come to covet exchanges like this when he gets to feel like you’re just two people in love and nothing else. 

As his eyes trace over you, he promises himself to do everything in his power to make sure your life with him is hallmarked by sweet pockets like these. As many of them as he can give you. 

At some point Namjoon pushes up to get the carafe of orange juice from the fridge, and after assigning your more capable hands the job of opening the champagne, you both polish off your brunch with the tinkling clink of your toasting mimosa glasses. 

Once your bellies are full and satiated, Namjoon looks up at you. His elbows are propped up on the table, chin contentedly resting in his hands. There’s a question hidden in the corner of his lips as his eyes glisten with mischief.

“So… what else do you have in mind for your agenda today, my bride?” He reaches across the table to grab your hand, kissing the back of your palm as you giggle and roll your eyes.

“Well if you must know... I'm thinking I might give my sister a call. See if she’d be willing to come pay me visit.” You offer, pushing one of the last grapes around the corner of the board, avoiding the way Namjoon’s eyes shine. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” you shrug nonchalantly. “Maybe she could come stay in one of the guest houses. Potentially. Once I move out here. Whenever that may be.” 

“So my baby won’t be alone when I’m gone?” His dimples are popping in his cheeks as his smile spreads wide. It’s a brilliant idea to bring her out here with you until Namjoon can finesse a way to be by your side 24/7. He wonders why he didn’t think of it sooner. Probably because you’re as smart as you are beautiful. 

“Neither of your babies.” You crinkle your nose as you smile back at him. 

“I like the sound of that,” he’s beaming back at you, happy and light. His eyes are misty with emotion he can’t hide, and it only makes you love him more.

“Me too.”

“So, how would you feel about getting to work as soon as possible then?” His eyebrows bounce salaciously your way, and you can’t help but giggle.

“Is that what you want?” 

“If it’s what you want. Always.” Namjoon licks his lips and a crackle of electricity shoots up your spine. The parallels to how this morning started are not lost on you. It makes something in you thrill with excitement.

“Well, I would love to take a bath. Our activity this morning was excellent, but I must say you left a bit of a sticky mess in your wake.” 

“Sorry,” Namjoon ducks his head bashfully.

“So I’m going to break in that beautiful clawfoot tub and fill it to the brim with matcha bubble bath.”

“Mmm. With the orange blossom bath salts too?”

“Always,” you wink as Namjoon bites his lip.

“God, you always smell so good when you use that. It makes your skin so soft.” The thought of your skin fragrant and bare has his blood stirring again as his eyes rake over you.

“Well you are welcome to keep me company and read to me while I soak,” you offer nonchalantly as you walk away. You can feel his eyes on your hips as you round the corner, quickly followed by the sound of his bare feet against the floorboards.

“Or I could join you in the water.”

When he responds, his voice is closer than you expected it to be. He’s caught up to you so quickly with those long legs of his.

“Or you could finish the chapter of the book you were reading to me on the way up. You left me on such a cliffhanger when your hands got distracted on the drive. I’m dying to know what happens next.”

Biting his lip, that wicked gleam is back in his eyes at the memory of the drive up and the things the two of you got up to in the privacy of the tinted, shielded back seat.

“Fair enough, but I get to join after.” His hand is forceful where it slips across your waist. You tumble into him, wanting nothing more than to let him win and start this game all over again, but you had a feeling you were winning this round, and you like to win.

“I can promise you no such thing. We’ll just have to see how the day goes,” you shrug, dismissing him completely to climb the stairs.

As much as he enjoys the view, Namjoon loves the play for dominance more: it’s cute on you. Too bad he’s still got the upper hand. He catches you on the stairwell, turning you around to face him. His hand ghosts down the front of your silk draped stomach directly to the dip between your legs.

 He places enough pressure to catch your sensitivity there, smiling something wicked at the sound of your sharp inhale. He already knows how delicate you are after you’ve already finished once until he warms your body up again. The prospect of starting this dance all over again has him stiffening with delight against your leg when he feels the familiar slip of your essence help the fabric glide beneath his touch.

“Oh baby girl, you have no idea how well this day is gonna go.” His voice has dipped to an octave reserved only for the devil as he smiles at you and lifts you off the stairs and into his arms.

You squeal at the suddenness of it, wrapping your arms securely around his neck so you don’t fall. He just chuckles, something throaty and dark, as he carries you up the stairs and down the hall to the sunlit bathroom. 

Setting you on the counter, he turns to start the bath- scooping in bath salts, pouring your bubbles, raising the blinds so the room is flooded with light. He doesn’t want to miss a single look on your beautiful face when he has his way with you for a second time today.

Not once has it occurred to you to move from the spot where he put you. Instead, you sit perfectly still on the bathroom counter, feeling your nails dig into your palms, your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you watch him. Your pulse is already thrumming with anticipation all over again. 

When he turns back to you, you can see clear evidence of his arousal reshaping itself beneath his black briefs, and suddenly, despite your meal, there’s something else entirely that you want in your mouth. He catches the hungry way your eyes follow him as he walks back to you.

“Can I help you, baby?” His laugh is warm, even if his eyes are sinister. It’s all you can do just to nod your head and slip your fingers forward to tug at his waistband. When it begins to fall, you slip down to the floor, catching him off guard entirely. Not in a million years did Namjoon didn't plan on this course of events, but he certainly isn't unhappy about it. 

Namjoon leans back against the counter in the spot you’d just been sitting in as your hands grasp onto the muscular ridges of his toned legs. You set to work kissing his golden skin on his thighs slowly, indulgently, enjoying yourself as you go. 

You’ve always been weak in the knees for his absurdly gorgeous legs. They’ve only gotten more toned in the last year just like the rest of him, and between his dimples, his arms, his chest, and his legs, it’s hard to know where to begin. Or it would be if there wasn’t something hard and beautiful staring you in the face.

Namjoon is in heaven watching this unfold from above. When you slip him into your mouth, he feels all his rational thought go dark. He’s helpless to do anything but cave in. God, the two of you are like rabbits, but honestly, how can you not be when you make him feel like this? He begins to lose himself in the soft rhythm you create, something lazy and hypnotic, that makes him feel weightless.

He can barely hold himself, but every second is worth it. All he can do is luxuriate in the way you take your time as you bless him. At least, that’s how he always thinks of it because it’s truly nothing short of divine. 

He can’t tell if it’s been a few minutes or an eternity when all of a sudden, you’re abruptly letting him slip from your mouth with a pop and a sultry smile. The cool air rushing against him nearly startles him in the wake of the warmth he’d been cocooned in while your tongue did its incredible work. Because just as quickly as you started, you’re gone. 

He realizes then that the floor is wet. Apparently, You’d both gotten so lost in each other that the water in the tub had spilled over its edges and he hadn’t even noticed. Also, at some point during all this, you must have slipped out of your dress, because you’re lowering yourself into the water now as bare as you were on your wedding night.

Namjoon swallows. His body is ramping with endorphins, and he’s so worked up it nearly hurts. As he makes his way to the tub, you stop him with a dainty hand against his lower stomach.

“Ah, ah. I asked you to read to me.” 

Your eyes are coquettishly round as you bat them up at him. He’s tempted to scoff.

“Are you serious right now? Aren’t we in the middle of something?” His face is serious, focused as he eyes your breasts floating in the water amidst the matcha- scented bubbles.

You push back against his stomach again. “Yes, we were… in the middle of that last chapter. Book. Please.”

There it is again. The “please” he’s always been so enamored by. The “please” that’s usually the product of your need for him. The one he’s so infatuated with that he’d do anything to satisfy it. The one that, up until now, he’d thought you were unaware of, yet here you are using it against him.

That’s when he knows he’s trained you too well. There’s pride sparkling in your eyes as you look up at him, and he can’t believe it. Running a hand down his face, he shakes his head at you. What has he gotten himself into with you?

“ If that’s the way you want to play it, fine,” he squints at you with playful derision. “But I’m reading to you in the tub with you when I come back.”

“Oh please do,” you coo, batting your lashes at him.

Oh, you’re good. 

Namjoon can’t help but laugh at himself as he walks to the bedroom to collect the book. When he met you a year ago- the blushing, soft spoken girl who was too nervous to meet his eyes- he definitely never would have thought that a year later you’d be sending him down the hallway fully naked and half hard to fetch your literature for you while you float in a bath. He wonders when he got so wrapped around your finger like this, but if he’s honest, he doesn’t mind.

You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

 Being with you is the best his life has ever been. He’ll forever be grateful, that against all odds, you agreed to marry a man who was nearly a perfect stranger and create a life with him.

As he walks back to the bathroom, Namjoon catches a glimpse of your rosy smile flashing his way, peeking at him beyond the wall of bubbles. It fills his chest with something buoyant and light as he makes his way back to you.

There’s absolutely nowhere he’d rather be.

As he sinks down in the water behind you, more displaces, splashing out across the white wood beams and dousing your hair in the process. He apologizes profusely but instead of getting mad, you simply slip the rest of the way under the water to finish the job. When you resurface, you’re laughing so happily that your smile is the brightest thing in the room, putting even the afternoon sunlight to shame.

He pulls you to him, affection for you glowing warmly in his chest as you settle between his legs and look up at him. He kisses your forehead, his heart filled with contentment, before reaching forward to dry his hands on the closest available towel and thumbing through the book until he finds the page he marked.

The two of you stay that way until the chapter is finished and the book is closed. Until the bubbles all dissolve and the water’s gone cold. Even then, once the water is drained, you still stay wrapped in a tangle of Namjoon’s long limbs as you twist to kiss him and kiss him and kiss him.

Eventually he straightens out his legs to allow you to climb into his lap so he can find his way home again and slip inside you. Your bodies are swathed in the golden light illuminating the room as the two of you go effortlessly slow and unhurried, taking your time . 

Namjoon sinks into you, lost in the beauty of you and your connection. 

This time, your session together is marked in emotion and security. 

He knows how much you want to start a family with him, and you know how special it was for him to let his walls down, to let you know how scared he was to lose you. Both of you are in awe of not only how attracted you are to each other, but also of the caliber of human you’re currently sharing your bodies with, of how transcendent love making can feel when your hearts and hopes are as interwoven in the act as they now are with all your cards on the table.

When Namjoon finishes this time, it’s in sync with you. It’s the first time that happened for the two of you in tandem. As your eyes search his, you're both aware that this shared state of bliss is nothing short of miraculous. As story-worthy as this act has always been between the two of, this time feels different. Markedly so.

Perhaps, it’s because you’ve both dropped your guards enough to fully let the other in, in a way you hadn’t uncovered before. If the crashing of his heartbeat has anything to say about it, Namjoon would probably guess that you've both sunken so deep into each other that it was impossible for the crescendo of your orgasms  not  to crest all at once for the both of you.

Once you’ve gathered yourself enough to speak, you watch Namjoon with dazed eyes, in awe that someone as incredible as him even exists, let alone that you get to call him yours. As he slips out of you, the warmth of his seed flows out between your thighs, and some ridiculous part of you can’t help but smile.

Namjoon catches it too, and leans forward to kiss you. 

“You’re gonna be a great mom, you know that?”

Your eyes flash to meet his. Your body is spent, your emotions are big and at this point, your heart feels so filled to the brim with affection for him that you fear it won’t fit in your body anymore.

“They’re gonna be the luckiest kids in the world to have you for a dad,” you whisper with shining eyes as you touch his chest.

He dips his head, smiling so exorbitantly wide that it consumes his whole face, and all you can think is that you can’t wait to see that dimpled grin shining back at you from the face of a little boy or little girl down the road.

“By the way,” you begin as his gaze perks back up to meet yours. “You should know that we’ve tallied the votes for husband of the year.”

“Oh really?” His brows lift attentively. “Should I pack it up? Is it time to let the dream go? Surely it’s not going to a rookie this year.”

“You’d be surprised,” you tip your head. Taking his hands you place them so they’re cradling your chest. “On behalf of the board and the esteemed academy, it is my honor to present the award of husband of the year to you, Kim Namjoon.”

As he throws his head back, he bursts into a bright fit of laughter and mock cheering like you’re both surrounded by a make believe crowd. 

“Oh my goodness,” he squeezes your breasts in his palm like the globes are irreplaceable awards. “I would just like to thank all the people around the world who supported me and believed me, who shined the light of their support on me even on days when this seemed bleak. We couldn’t have made it here without you guys. This award belongs to all of you.”

He waves to the imaginary audience he’s created before pressing your breasts together and happily burying his smiling face between them. He mumbles something you can’t understand that gets lost in the downy softness of your chest as you laugh at him.

“What are you even saying down there?”

“I’m thanking the people who got me here.” He eyes you soberly like that should be obvious before breaking character and cackling at how ridiculous this is. “I can’t believe we really kept this joke going all day.”

“I can’t believe I got in the tub to clean up the mess you left earlier only to now, once again, be sticky with dried up mess.” You look ruefully between your legs.

“Hey, hey, that mess may very well become your child.” He tuts as you grin and narrow your eyes at him. 

“I don’t think that’s how this works.”

“Semantics,” he shrugs, kissing your nose. You can’t help your eye roll that follows. “Hey,” he breathes, eyes suddenly serious.

“Yes, love?” 

“Please know, whatever happens, I’ll always love you, and I’ll always take care of you. Both of you, if we’re so lucky.” The tips of his fingers rest against your lower belly, and yep. You were right. Your heart bursts clean out of your chest. You can feel the way your eyes glisten, happiness spilling from them as you get lost in Namjoon’s smile.

“I know you will, Joon. I know you will.”

-fin.

#btswritersguild #btswriterscollective #btswritersclub #Kim Namjoon smut #Kim Namjoon fluff #Kim Namjoon angst #Namjoon mafia au #rm smut #rm mafia au #Kim Namjoon arranged marriage au #BTS smut #BTS mafia au #black silk #champagne silk #my writing #BTS angst #BTS fluff #BTS fic #BTS fic series #BTS one shot #Kim Namjoon x reader #Kim Namjoon x you #rm x reader #rm x you

[generallybarzy]

under twinkling lights.

an: christmas in april? sorry this took so long.. but here’s a little bit of established relationship and soft cute Christmas smut! Its been too long since we had something so sweet and smutty about our fav cute ass couple. It’s all sweet and soft and cute and then it gets filthy... the perfect dynamic, i want what they have. i was only inspired to finish this because of barzys hatty tonight haha, he deserves everything. I didn’t really spell check this yet, just needed to post finally!! Personally, I think its the hottest thing I've ever wrote. Lemme know!!! 💕

tagging: @softboybarzal​ @fallinallincurls​ @matbaerzal​ @npatrickz​ @canadianheaters​ @selenophileangel​ @deleausvp​ @colecaufields​ @hockeyhughes11​ @nazdaddy​ @barzysreputation​ @comphybiscuit​ @aboveaveragehockeyboys​ @ifiwasshawnmendesidslapmyself​ @petey-patty​ @starswin​ @heatherawoowoo​ ​

word count: 6.5k

You never believed you’d find someone to spend your life with. If anyone told you your holidays would one day be spent cuddling up with your boyfriend of almost two years in the apartment that you had just moved into together earlier that month, you would have told them they were wrong. Flat out wrong. Things as beautiful and destined as that only happened in movies, and you certainly weren’t lucky enough to get something like that. But, now, here you were.

And here was Mat.

Even after two years with Mat, there was still nothing better than spending the evening cuddled up with him on the couch. No matter how many fancy, expensive dinner dates he took you on at upscale restaurants in the city or how many helicopter rides you took together out in B.C. when he was showing you his home, or how much you loved hanging out with his friends and his family and his teammates, nothing was better than cuddles at home. As much time you spent together, you still felt as giddy and comfortable and safe and at-peace as that first time with him. Things didn't simmer down, that spark didn't fade away after a bit like you feared they would. But they became more subtle. You no longer had to ask him to come to the couch to cuddle, you no longer worried that maybe he wouldn't want to. It was a habit, at this point, to fall into his arms at the end of the day just the same as he did with you. You were each other’s safe havens, the place you laid your head to rest. You loved each other, and there was no place you’d rather be than together.

You’d spent the evening baking cookies, decorating the new tree, and wrapping his family member's Christmas gifts- a book his mom had been wanting, along with some of the cookies you'd made and various at-home spa items; hockey memorabilia and classic jerseys for his dad; and some new pieces of technology and the latest eye shadow palette that his sister had been wanting, along with some stupid jokes gifts that he wrapped in duct tape like the annoying older brother he was. Now, after the sunset bared its last light over the horizon and through your window, you lay together in bliss, with the tree twinkling its colorful lights across the room as you and Mat snuggled on the couch under a fluffy blanket, and everything felt right. 

"I don't know why we went through all that work to decorate the tree if we're not even spending Christmas here." Mat grumbled playfully, his head on your chest, partially hidden under the blanket. 

"Well," your face glowed in a smile as you remembered the flight out to Vancouver you had in a few days. Spending holidays with his family was always your favorite. Your family wasn’t the best, and it wasn’t too healthy to spend your holidays with them, but you always had Mat and his family. They were so welcoming, so kind, and for as many years now as you’d gone as Mat’s girlfriend, they had accepted you like family. "Because this is our home, Mat. It'd be wrong not to decorate it for the first time." 

"I don't need a tree for this to feel like home." 

“Aww, baby.”

“It’s true.” He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees above you on the couch, bringing his face level with yours. His warm breath hit your lips as he brushed his nose against yours, eyes slipping shut and grinning. “I love you. Always.”

“I love you always too.” 

"I'm so glad you're here. I'm so happy we live together, finally." 

"I'm glad we live together, too." 

Mat snuggled down into your neck, the locks of dark hair that had been growing out lately tickling your face. You reached up to brush them aside and curl your hand around the back of his head, cupping his head against you tenderly . His hair was getting so nice and long, and you knew he’d have to cut it soon, per the team's guidelines, but god, you were gonna cherish it now. 

"I actually have something for you, Maty."

"A Christmas present?" 

"Well, an early Christmas present." You smiled at the excited look on his boyish face as he leaned back, the lights from the tree highlighting the sparkle in his eye. "You can't open it at your parent's house, so we're gonna do it here instead."

"What is it?" 

"Try to figure it out." 

He sat up then, his eyes scanning the room for anything that might seem out of the ordinary, anything that might be hidden. He was looking for his present, and you had to hold back a laugh at the sight. 

"Maty…" 

"No, no, I'll find it."

"Babe…"

"I got this."

"Let me give you a hint, at least." You sat up with him and took his hand in yours and cupped it against your cheek, turning your head to the side to kiss his fingers. He smiled at the touch, melting back into you and tracing his thumb across your skin. 

"Alright, gimme the hint."

You pushed his hand down the smooth skin of your neck, the swell of your breasts, down the curve of your waist, and to the hem of his hoodie that swallowed you up. "It's right in front of you, baby." 

"For real?" The joy in his eyes was the same you saw the first time you told him you were ready to take that step, almost two years ago now. No matter how many times you were together, he was always just as excited.

“You say that as if we’ve never done this before.”

“It always feels like the first time.” 

You glowed and let go of his hand to reach up and cup his face between both of you. His words came so simply and without hesitation that you knew he was sincere. “Aw, Mat…”

“I’m serious.” 

“You’re so sweet tonight.”

“Maybe I just really want to lay some love on you.” He hitched his hands under your thighs and tugged you close, lying you back against the couch once again. His hands slid up the soft skin of your tummy and waist, dipping under your shirt momentarily, and causing your breath to hitch in your throat- his hands always managed to do that to you- as you breathed out the words against his lips. 

“Maybe I’m gonna let you.” 

With one last grin, his face dipped down to yours, locking your lips together in a familiar, electric dance. Soft, gentle lips moving against yours had never felt as good as with any other boyfriends as they do with Mat. His touch was intoxicating, made your mind wander and your heart race flushed your skin and shocked you to the core. Ever since the very first time his hand grazed against yours when he reached out to hold it for the first time, to the first time your bodies connected in passion under the covers, it felt the same. Like fire. Even two years later, he drove you insane, and all you wanted, and frequently achieved, was to drive him insane as well. In the best way possible. Mat broke apart from your lips momentarily to slip the hoodie over your head, revealing his gift. “Fuck…”

Right there, in front of his eyes, your breasts were covered only by a lacy crimson fabric, held together behind a pretty red bow. With each heavy breath of anticipation, your chest was heaving softly before his eyes, and he found himself hypnotized by the gentle rise and fall. 

“You like it?"

“Holy shit, you’re hot.” 

“So are you.” 

His eyes were wide, warm, and gentle, looking over you. He dragged his gaze away from your chest even though you could tell how hard it was, and shook his head. “Not as much as you.”

"Mmm", you took the liberty of taking his hands from where they had frozen beside you and placing them, big and warm, over your chest. "Go ahead, baby." 

"No, no, I wanna savor this first."

His mouth dipped down, soft hair tickling your neck as he nibbled at your chest, laying little love bites and kisses along the tender skin. He cupped your boobs and squeezed them around his face, humming in content. You couldn’t help but laugh as he buried his face against you, and you could feel his grin break out against your skin. “Having fun, baby?”

“Oh my god, yes. You’re gorgeous. So soft.” 

“Mmhm.” You sighed into his touch as he kissed his way back up your chest.

“Baby.” He spoke softly to get your attention, and your eyes opened lazily to see him, biting his lip and holding the delicate ribbon between two fingers. “Can I?”

“Please.” He gave a gentle tug, and with one last heave of your chest, the lacy bralette fell open, revealing one of Mat’s favorite parts of your body. 

“Fucking Christ.” 

“Bub, you can’t be swearing like that so close to Christmas.” 

“How do you expect me not to when you’re…. God, just so perfect…” You saw the way his eyes glazed over mid-sentence in the colorful lights of the tree, the way his jaw went slack as you arched your chest up towards him. He reached out, slowly, as if worried you were going to disappear if he moved too quickly, and when the large, rough hands curled around the side of your waist and slid up and down, you felt goosebumps pop up along your skin. 

“Your fingers are cold.”  

“But you love it.” He ran the pad of his thumb over your nipples, watching as they pebbled under his touch in the cold air. “So do I.” 

“Warm me up?”

“Always.”

He dipped his head down, his mouth hot and wet along the peaks and valleys of your chest, down your stomach.

His fingers traveled over the familiar layout of your body, colored in soft golden and red and green in the dancing Christmas lights, tracing each recognizable landmark with specific care- every memorized freckle and birthmark he had kissed since your first night together and every dimple in your skin that he cherished, every spot that had his fingerprints imprinted onto like memory foam after so many nights spent holding you tight with everything in him, as if you'd slip away. As if you'd want to. With each inch his hands followed, he found more, there was always more territory to be marked down, jotted down in his brain for future reference. He was always finding something new. Something more to use against you, to use against you in the best way possible, to push you further and further to that blissful end goal.

He made his way down, down, down, until his breath was hot over your lace-covered core, his hand gripping your hips tightly. Mat smiled as your hands found his hair, curling your fingers through a fistful of the dark locks before releasing and smoothing it back into place again. Mat's favorite thing about going down on you, besides the way it pleasured you, was the way your hands felt on his head, massaging and grabbing and twisting and pulling. It was heaven to him, letting you guide him around like that. 

“Can I take them off?” 

“Hmm.” As much as you wanted him to ravage you right there, with those soft, sultry eyes he was giving you, he was wearing far too many clothes. “You first.” 

Mat didn't say anything else before stripping out of his dark crew neck sweater and jumping up off the couch to kick his gray sweats down. His smile was contagious as your gaze dropped from his face, down his bare chest and the little chain you’d gotten him for your anniversary, down towards the tent in his boxers with a silly, excited grin. He laughed. "Not tired of seeing me yet?" 

"Never."

"You sure you’re not getting bored of my dick yet?"

"No, baby. Definitely not.” You grinned, the thought of spending the rest of your life with him bouncing around your mind. “Why? Are you getting bored of me?"

"No way." Mat leaned down to lace your fingers together and lock lips. "How could I?"

"How could I get tired of you, Maty?"

Mat hummed. He loved this little play, the little banter, the back and forth. He'd loved it since you first started dating, and he always would. He knew you loved him endlessly, but he played along. "I'm just a hockey player."

"No, you're my hockey player. My boyfriend. My pretty, pretty baby."

Mat settled back down between your legs with a warm smile. "Yeah, I am. So can I take these off now?" He hooked his fingers in the waistband of your panties. "C'mon, I know how much you love my tongue."

Your thighs squeezed around him at the words. “Fuck, please.”

“Anything for my baby.” 

You lifted your hips for him as he tugged the lacy fabric down your thighs with nimble fingers, stopping momentarily after they were off to just look at you. He let out a sigh, his eyes finding yours again with a soft look as you squirmed a bit beneath him- not because you were shy, no, you were long past that point in your relationship, but because you just needed him to do anything to you. Mat had spent the past two years helping you love and appreciate your body, and this, right here in this moment, was the perfect showcase of how much he helped- as he was gazing down at your naked body and the only thing you felt was just the absolute need and desire for his body to move against yours and his warmth to cover you up. No nerves. Only love, and need. 

“Shit, you’re gorgeous.” 

“I know.” 

The lack of hesitation in your reply had Mat bending over you and laughing. “That’s your response?”

“Yeah! I mean, you let me know. You make me feel so confident.”

“Mmhm, good, babygirl.” He scooted back down to lay his head against the soft, naked inside of your thigh gazing up at you through his eyelashes. “I always wanna make you feel good. Physically and mentally.” He turned to lay open-mouthed kisses against your thighs, and any thought of response you may have had dissolved completely as you leaned back and waited for him to do his magic. His hand reached up to cup your heat, just feeling you against his palm for a moment before swiping a long finger through your fold, smiling and raising his eyebrows at you. “Oh? Already so wet for me?” 

“Always, baby. You should know this by now.”

“Yeah?” He dipped his fingers at your opening teasingly and his head dipped down to connect his lips with your clit, kissing it gently and watching you squirm. “Ugh, I could fuck you right now if I was in a rush. But you know the foreplay is my favorite part.”

“I know. And you’re so good.” 

“Good.” 

He went silent then, his tongue wide and wet, licking a long stripe along your slick and gathering the wetness at your clit, giving it soft, kitten licks and wet kisses. He listened intently for every soft sigh that left your lips- music to his ears- and felt every tug on his hair when he flicked his tongue in small circles around that spot like he knew you loved. And the best part was that he knew. You didn’t understand how couples could get tired of each other after years. You didn’t understand how the excitement could flicker away or how they could get tired of each other’s bodies or minds. Never in your relationship with Mat have you felt as excited as now, two years in. The thought that he knew your body inside and out, maybe even better than you did, was just so overwhelming in the best possible way, and the longer you lay there, with Mat’s mouth on you, you couldn’t stop thinking that this is your man.   

Mat was lying flat against the long couch, his face between your thighs and his hands holding your legs open for him. His dark hair was a wild mess, and you could see the gentle movements of his lower back and ass and the back of his thighs illuminated golden in the lights, rolling lazily against the couch cushion- covered by a blanket, of course- to provide any friction for his sadly untouched cock. 

You hadn’t even noticed the noises dripping from your lips until Mat pulled back, and the lack of feeling his mouth against your core had you whining for him.

“Fuck, I’ll never get over you.” 

“Mmmmat.” You hummed his name, dragging out the “M” in the way you knew he loved.  

“Yeah, baby?” 

“Please keep touching me.” 

He sat up, between your thighs, knees digging into the couch, and his bare thighs and torso on display for you. You loved him, all of him, and all of his body. His legs, his abdomen, his chest, his arms… all of it was amazing. Perfect to look at and perfect to touch, to grab, to dig your nails into as he railed you. To ground yourself with. “Baby, you know I love eating you out. But I just gotta see you right now. And talk to you.” His big hand slid up the inside of your thigh, and your breath caught in your throat when he started rubbing soft, small circles against your clit. “So this position will have to do, okay? I promise I’ll spend all day before our flight eating your pussy.”

“I’ll remember that.” 

“I hope so. God, this fucking thing. Could eat it for days.” He pushed a single finger inside you, slow and steady, but enough to make you clench around him. His fingers were so much better than yours, just a little longer and a little thicker in a way that had you squirming for more. “So fucking tight and wet. So hot. I’m so lucky to have you.” His free hand left your hip, leaving nothing but cold, empty fingerprints on your skin, and rubbed against the bulge in his dark boxers. You could see how much he was aching, and you were determined to make it better. 

“Mat, c’mere.” 

“I’m knuckles deep in your pussy, babe, how much closer do you want me?” You laughed at him, rolling your hip down against said finger. How he could be so funny and sexy at the same time was beyond you.

“Lie down with me. I wanna touch you.” You held your arms out for him and scooted to the side, and he obliged quickly, lying on his side between you and the back of the couch and hooking your left leg over his right thigh. His hand dipped back down between your thighs, pressing into you before you could even catch your breath, feeling exhilarated at the much more intimate position. “Oh, fuck, Mat.” You reached out to him, willing and eager to reciprocate the feeling. He drew in a sharp breath at the way your hand rubbed over the thick bulge in his boxers, pulling the waistband down just enough to release him from his cotton prison.  

His cock jumped up against his lower belly, stiff and pink and needy for you and only you. Your hand, your mouth, and you could tell by the way Mat’s fingers paused inside you that he was anticipating the moment your fingers wrapped around his length. “Oh, that feels so good. Always does, baby.” And then, as you worked your hand against him, he pumped his long fingers inside you, bringing his other thumb to rub mercilessly at your clit. But still, even with the way he was fucking you on his hand, the most intense part of this moment was the way he held your gaze; the lust, the need, the twinkle of amusement in his hazel eyes at the sheer amazement that he got to do this with you; and the love- the pure, unadulterated love that soaked from his skin to yours, in every touch, in ever moment spent together, every kiss, and every time you laid together, bare and vulnerable, in the heat of passion, under the twinkling lights or in the dark, safe haven of your home to show each other how much you loved each other. His warm eyes glittered in the light, reflecting the gold and green and red lights from the Christmas tree that illuminated the room, and the city lights outside the window of your apartment lit up his body and highlighted every muscle. Your apartment, the one you own together, and the one you knew you were going to make countless memories in. His eyes glittered with love, with the question of “can you believe we still make each other feel so good?” and with the statement “I want to kiss you so bad right now”. Your hand pumped his length, pulling a soft moan from his lips, one that you had used to have to work so hard to hear. “I want to hear you, baby” You had used to say, practically begging him to let himself go as he bit his lip to hold back the moans. It had taken a bit of encouragement, but now he never held back with the sounds that left his pretty mouth. You lay there, vulnerable and exposed to each other, staring into each other’s eyes as with hands between each other's thighs, cheeks pink and hearts full of love as you helped each other climb to that climax. 

You broke eye contact first, laughing breathlessly and feeling your cheeks go hot under his gaze. Despite the lack of shame you felt in front of him, he could still get you so flustered and giggly. 

“What’s so funny, beautiful?” He asked between shaky breaths. 

“You’re so beautiful, Mat. Those moans are so pretty. I can’t believe it.”

“Yeah?” He smiled with another laugh. “I can feel how wet you are. It’s crazy.” He slipped the tip of a third finger into you, your hole aching and pulsing around them already. “Oh, fuck, I love your moans too.” And you could tell he did, as his hips jerked helplessly up into your hand. “Faster, baby.” 

“Only if you kiss me.” 

Without hesitation, he leaned over and his lips locked onto yours, needy and begging but oh, so willing to go slow and passionate. The hand that had been teasing your clit came up to grab at you face, squeezing a tit on the way up, and you reached a free hand out to tangle in his dark hair as you leaned in and continued to jerk him in your hand- up and down, and up and down, twisting around the head just like he liked. “I love you.” He whispered against your lips, breaking apart for only a moment to look down at you one more time in awe. “I love you so fucking much.” 

“I love you, Mat.” 

“Fuck, I love you.” His lips crashed back against yours again, his fingers plunging deeper inside you as he kissed his promise into your lips, the promise that he was there and he’d always be there. He was yours. And you were his. Simply that. The heel of his palm rubbed against your clit as he curled his fingers inside of you, hitting that wonderful spot and making fireworks twinkle behind your eyes. He groaned into your mouth as your hand curved over the head of his cock, palms getting slick with his pre-cum, and stroked back down to cup his balls gently. He let out a breathy laugh at the tender feeling. 

“Baby, look at me.” You cupped his cheeks between your hands and pulled him back when you began to feel your peak rising. He whined when your hand left his cock, aching and hard, and his fingers halted inside of you, cupping his palm against your heat.

“Oh, baby,” His eyes locked on you, making a show of how they were scanning up and down your body. “I’m looking.”

“I need you inside, right now.”

His bottom lip was sucked between his teeth and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the words. Even after so long, he still couldn’t handle hearing those words. His eyes fluttered shut. “Fuck, say less.” He rolled over you to sit upright on the couch, finally pushing his boxers all the way down his thighs and onto the floor. He gripped his cock in his hands and slid between your thighs, bending down over you to kiss your lips. “How do you want it?”

“Just like this.” Your hands fell to his hips and pulled him close. 

“Yeah?”

“Wanna see your face. Maybe it’s basic, but I love this position.”

“Yeah. It’s simple, but so intimate. I like it too.” He paused and leaned back for a moment, looking down at his sweatpants on the floor for something. “Shit, ugh, I don’t have a condom here, hold on-” 

“No, no, no.” Before Mat could run off to the bedside drawer, you grabbed his hands in yours, pulling him back to you. His eyes went soft and cautious for a few moments. 

“No? Babe, shouldn’t we…” 

“We’ve had conversations about this, right? About doing it without?” Mat nodded, a little smile beginning to pull on his lips. “I’m still on the pill, and I know I remembered to take all of them recently, so we’re still pretty safe, if you want.” 

“Fuck, I want.” He settled back down between your knees. “Are you sure?”

“A hundred percent.” 

“Alright.” Mat chuckled in boyish excitement. He reached a hand down between your bodies to adjust himself, nudging the blunt head of his cock against your clit and rubbing his pre-cum along your slit, lining up with your tight entrance and sending sparks through your body. “God, my God, I can’t wait to come inside you. Feel you around me completely. See my cum on you.” One last time, he bent his body down over yours, his weight warm and heavy, the metal of his chain cool between your chests, and pressed his mouth to yours, breathing in your warmth. One of your hands curled around his waist, slid to the small of his back, just like he always did to you, and the other cupped the back of his neck, fingers curling into the hairs and playing with the chain around his neck and pulling him in closer to your face. He broke away slightly with a sigh against your lips, his forehead bumping against yours and his nose nudging yours in a familiar gesture. He didn’t need to say the words anymore, because his quiet affections were ones that you’ve known for a long time. 

His question was loud and clear, and your answer was just as obvious. 

Mat brought a forearm down next to your head to steady himself, stroking the pad of his thumb against your warm cheek as his hips finally pushed against yours. Hands tightened their grips on each other’s bodies, sliding across hot skin slicked with sweat, and a euphony of moans mingled together in the air at the initial feeling of finally being connected in such a primal way again. His hips were flush against your own, and the weight of his thick cock inside of you was heavy and intoxicating; you could feel his tight abdomen expanding and contracting with every heavy breath and shudder through his body. He let out a long string of moans, his head dipping down to nibble at your throat, and fuck, did you know what he meant. You were connected, everywhere- heart, skin, and mind. “Fuck, oh my God, baby, hot as ever.” 

“Oh, Maty…” 

“I’m gonna give you so much love, beautiful.”

“Please.” 

The first withdrawal of his hips from yours was painstakingly slow, and all you wanted was for him to plunge back in again and again and again. And he intended to do that, in time. Mat loved to take his time, but it didn’t take him long to fulfill his promise, sliding back against you, his cock hard and aching inside your wet cunt. He found a steady, easy pace rolling his hips into yours, each stroke like electricity through your body, long and languid, taking his time to draw your pleasure out, taking the time to feel your body around him. His knee dug into the couch hard, steadying himself and getting more traction so he could pull closer to your body, snapping his hips against yours with slaps that had you both gasping for air. 

“Oh fuck…” 

“Feels so good, Mat.”

“You’re fucking amazing.” He let out another high-pitched whine and arched your leg over his hip. “More?”

“More, faster, please baby.” 

His hips slapped against yours with a groan, his big hands holding behind your knees and opening you wide for him. He leaned back to take a good look at you, at the scene in front of him, trying to take in every image he possibly could. Because these were the best moments. Not only the sex- god, but the sex was good- but just being together, being close, being intimate and so so close, yet only craving to become closer and closer. “God, you’re so hot, babe. So tight, so wet, all for me, right?” When you couldn’t answer, too overwhelmed with the way he was pounding against you, he took it as a sign to keep running his mouth. God, you loved to listen to him talk. “So wet, all for me. Getting all turned on over this big cock inside you, yeah?” You nodded your head enthusiastically, pulling his body closer to yours. He followed without hesitation, down and down until your bodies were glued together and he was just pushing against you, his hips driving yours into the couch cushions. “All fucked up for my cock, are you? Fucking beautiful.” 

“It’s so good, Maty, baby, so big, fills me up so good.”

“I love you. I love you, (Y/N).”

“Oh my God, Maty, I love you.” 

His mouth locked onto yours, sealing your lips together and swallowing your moans down. Dark locks of his hair shielded your face and tickled your cheeks, and as soon as he inched away to take a deep, shaky breath, your eyes opened up. He steadied himself on strong arms, framing your face, his veins prominent, and you curled a small hand as far around his thick bicep as you could, watching in awe as his head jerked back, throwing his long hair off his forehead and squeezing his eyes shut as he concentrated on pounding against your dripping cunt. 

Slowly, his body peeled back off of yours, away, away, and he brought himself up to his knees in front of you. You let your eyes roll slip the long length of his torso, decorated with glittering reflections of gold and red and green, shining off the sheen of his sweat, and you looked from his thick neck, covered in your love-bites, down his chest, down the hard muscles of his abdomen and tummy, and down the V of his hips to the small patch of prickles that rubbed against your clit with every thrust. His thighs were spread open with your legs wrapped ever so gently around his hips, and his cock was stilled, aching inside of you. He shifted around on the couch momentarily, readjusting his knees on the cushions. “Ya know, we’d be a lot more comfortable in our bed than out here.” 

“But it’s so pretty out here. All the pretty twinkly lights on you…” 

“On me?” He laughed, “Look at yourself, babe. I’m fucking lucky.” 

His big hands traced down your cheeks, squeezed down your chest, curled down the curve of your waist and hips, before finally wrapping around the backs of your thighs and pulling you closer, hoisting your legs up, up, and over his shoulders and spreading you wide open in front of him. 

“Ooh, Mat…” You giggled a bit as he easily positioned you in the way he wanted, smirking down at you wickedly and rubbing his thumbs up and down the wet slick of your pussy. 

“Gonna make you fuckin’ come, babe, my god… you want that?”

“Yeah, yeah, please, Maty.” 

“Just a little bit longer, ‘kay?” He rolled his hips against yours again, starting up that steady pace again. His hands held your thighs open, lifting your legs up the length of his torso and locking them over his shoulders, and he never failed to make you seem tiny compared to him. You watched, mesmerized, as his abdomen tensed and hardened and spasmed as he tried to keep himself under control. 

“Please.”

“Little… longer.” 

With one more low moan, your boyfriend bent closer to you, his chain dangling in your face tauntingly as he got back to pounding away at you, heavy balls slapping against your ass with every erratic movement, his thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier and his breaths getting deeper. He was so goddamn close to that edge. He could tell you were getting there, too. You’d been on the edge ever since he started pounding you, but now, you were only a few feather light touches away from falling over that edge. And Mat was ready for it, he could barely hold his own seems together, he could barely think about anything except how rock hard he was and how your tits were bouncing so perfectly in rhythm with his hips, the way your eyes were rolling back and the way his cock felt inside you, fully covered in your slick, both your lower halves sticky messes. He was ready to fall apart completely, and ready to help you reach your own. “You look so fucking good taking my dick like this, babygirl. It’s so big, isn’t it? But you just take it so good, yeah? My good, good girl with her perfect fucking pussy, taking that cock so well.” He reached his fingers down to roll his thumb lazily against your clit, ever so gently, but enough to make you fall apart. Your eyes rolled back as you gasped out for him. 

“Please, M- Maaaat…” 

“Oh, you- you want it, don’t you?” Mat’s words were getting shaky, his sentences choppy. He was so close, so close his mind couldn’t comprehend anything beyond just fucking letting go. “Want your boyfriend’s hot cum filling you up, just flooding that- ugh, that tight little cunt, yeah? My balls emptied inside you? You want that nut so bad, you’re so desperate for it, huh? Tell me, baby. Tell me how you want the love of your life to just… fucking f- flood your pussy.”

“I want it, Mat, I want you to cum, baby.” 

His thrusts became erratic, his hand leaving bruises on your thigh and his thumb absolutely torturing your swollen, sensitive clit. He was getting desperate, too. “Where? Where do you want my big fucking load?”

“Cum inside, fuck, fuck, please, Maty-”

“Ohh, gonna fucking nut inside you, babygirl-”  

“I’m gonna cuuuum, Mat…” 

“Ohhhh, fuuuuuck, oh, oh (Y/N)...!” Mat let out a long, strangled moan, his voice shaking and whiny and breathless in exasperation. His hips stuttered and his thighs trembled beneath him as he nearly collapsed onto you, absolutely flooding your aching, spasming hole with his cum. Your mind went fuzzy and white when you finally felt his stitches come loose, and he finally emptied all of himself- all his hot, gooey warmth- inside of your throbbing cunt. And flood, he did. It felt like the thick ropes of cum were never ending, filling you to the brim, until finally, he was done, his eyes squeezed shut and hair falling into his eyes above you.

Forming sentences would be a miracle at this point, but you reached up to curl a finger around Mat’s chain and yank him down to your face, ushering him to collapse against your body. And he did, eyes glancing open for a moment and lips locking with yours, always thankful to be able to fall onto you after a hard day, after absolutely spending himself. He groaned against your lips and buried his face against your neck, panting against your skin and kissing your neck and breathing in your scent as your hand found it’s rightful place at the back of his neck.  After a few moments of stillness, he reached down lazily and let his cock slip out of you, both of you whining and the loss of contact, and you felt a familiar wetness on your tummy as his cum dribbled down the head of his spent cock to fall on your warm skin. 

You were silent, panting for a few minutes, just letting your heartbeats steady back to normal and your heads to recover from the dizzying orgasms. Then, a breathless chuckle vibrated through Mat’s chest and into you. “Merry fucking Christmas to us, right?” 

“I think that was the hottest thing we’ve ever done, Mat.” Mat hummed in agreement, squeezing you between his arms. “Now you see why we couldn’t do this at your parent’s place?”

“I mean… what’s stopping us?” 

“Mat, I know for a fact you can’t keep quiet enough to fuck in your parent’s house.”

“Says the one who was just screaming my name.”

“As if you weren’t moaning mine just as loud.”

“Hmm.” Mat laughed again at the banter, the playful back and forth, and rolled to the side, his back to the back of the couch, and pulled you against his side. “How do you feel, anyway? About… me coming inside? Still feel good about it? Wasn’t too much?”

“No way. I really… really enjoyed that. Everything about that. A lot.” 

“Mm, that’s good. So did I.” 

“But… I kiiiiiinda feel like we should clean up. It’s starting to feel… sticky, like, everywhere. And not a good sticky.” 

“Yeah, how about we take a bath together? A nice warm bath in the lights of the pretty Christmas lights you love so much? How’s that sound?”

“Sounds like heaven, Mat.”

So Mat scooped you up in his arms, his own legs weak and shaky after an unbelievable orgasm, and he pressed kisses against your cheeks as he carried you through your brand new home, lit in the pretty pinks and gold of the Christmas lights, stopping before the bathroom door only momentarily to ponder on the beginning of the rest of his forever with you. This truly might be the beginning of the best years of his life. The beginning of an even more serious relationship with you. He felt your fingers playing with the chain that still hung around his neck, the one the guys teased him about the charm on the end, but the one he always wore for you, and he glanced down, his eyes warm and contemplative as he searched yours. This. This was eternal love.

“I love you, babe. Always.” His heart felt dipped in syrup when you smiled up at him with that soul melting look. Yep. You’re it for me.

“I love you, bubs. Always.”

#mat barzal #mat barzal x reader #nhl reader insert #nhl fanfiction #mat barzal fanfiction #mathew barzal #mathew barzal x reader #mat barzal imagine #fic #op

[p-antomime]

dawn addiction.

— minors don't interact.

— wc: 3,3K

content + warnings: 18+, including: car sex, oral (female receiving), fingering, public sex (kinda of), unprotected sex, tummy bulge, pet names (dabi actually calls the reader "princess"), virginity loss (only mentioned), i bit of fluff bye

pairings: no quirk!dabi x fem!reader

— song: Press Your Number; by TAEMIN

After waking up alone one dark night without you sleeping next to him in the spacious bed placed in the middle of his room, Dabi catches himself thinking about you and feeling strange without having your warm body next to his in the bed. Thinking about Y/N was becoming a vicious habit for him and it was the kind of addiction that the more he fed, the more it seemed to swallow his sanity. However, he didn't blame you for not wanting to be seen or related to him, in a small town like the two of you Touya was the delinquent that people avoided interacting with lest they be excluded from that closed society.

He stretches to the side in order to get his own phone from the small table placed on the side of his bed and finds himself standing there for a few seconds feeling the smell of your body that permeated the pillow next to him. After taking a deep inhale, Dabi unlocks his cell phone to try to call you, but there is no answer, after all, it was past 1:00 AM in the dawn and Y/N was now probably lying in her own bed in her house trying to sleep.

The dark haired man lets out an impatient grunt before dropping the cell phone on the bed. He was deeply rooted in you and, because of that, feeling like an insane madman who was insisting on something that couldn't be his. But what could he do but fall in love with you after kissing your lips countless times and spreading your legs dangerously wide for him before claiming your virginity as his?

And the end of that night, just like all the others where you would finish fucking and you would shamefully put on your clothes to go home, would be filled by him masturbating with the thought of your naked body running through his mind.

Touya could feel the warm temperature of yours with little mental effort with his own fingers and would cling to the fading memories of the few non-sexual moments you had shared over the past few months.

That night, Dabi slept when the sun was already up, but Y/N, on the other hand, didn't even sleep a wink. She couldn't even take a lousy nap, because her eyes were glued to her cell phone screen waiting to see if he would call her again because on the first call of the night she wasn't brave enough to answer knowing that her parents were half a wall away. A coward? Yes, that's what she was. But there was a perfect daughter demeanor that she needed to maintain, especially if she wanted to continue to nurture her father's idea of letting her start studying at a university in the metropolitan area of the country.

Y/N would turn twenty a week from today — and if her father's promise to give you a car came true, her plan was already halfway done — and she didn't want to be stuck in that small, rural town forever. She had big dreams, and, ironically, in most of them the fulminating image of Dabi was present beside her. What if she was the only one there who wanted to leave that life? What if he didn't want to leave with her? But more importantly, at what point had their relationship become so deep?

It was now 7 o'clock in the morning, which meant that in about two hours your parents would wake up to go to work. You took a deep breath and reached out to grab the cell phone lying next to you on the bed, and then began to type a message as brief and vague as possible to your lover:

"Pack up all your stuff by next Friday. Take everything that you think is important or of value to you, pack it up, and meet me on the other side of the bridge that leads to the avenue out of town, the side that has the rusty 'Welcome to our town' sign. At two o'clock in the morning. No delays. And please try not to draw too much attention, wear the most decent, neutral clothes you have in your closet. Oh, and bring documents."

And all week long you could barely look your parents in the face without feeling guilty for wanting to break free from their protective arms, but you just couldn't take it anymore. You hated that small town, and you also hated being forced to go to church every Thursday and Sunday with your mother because she said that God would "bless you with all your dreams come true," so why didn't he just indirectly help you leave that town behind? Literally, the only thing holding you back in that town was Touya and you wanted to take him with you outside the boundaries of that town that looked more like a village forgotten by the rest of the world.

Y/N's favorite place to be was Dabi's lips, and even then, the girl's replies to him by messages and short calls that didn't last more than 5 minutes started to decrease drastically. The useless monologues continue to increase inside her mind. Until the Thursday before her birthday when Y/N was about to fall asleep after standing for almost 2 hours listening to the local church mass hoping that her mother would not notice her slouching and irritable posture, suddenly a sound of something banging against her bedroom window was heard. And initially she didn't bother to get up to find out what had caused the noise, until she heard it twice more and frowned as she got out of bed after seeing that it was almost two o'clock in the dawn.

You drew the curtains in front of the window, opened it and stuck your head out, looking down and suddenly feeling your cheeks heat up violently. And there was Touya looking at you with a look of sorrow and animosity. He pointed in the direction of the hidden backyard behind your house where the two of you in the beginning of your relationship used to hide just to spend some time together or have a make-out session that ended up leaving both of you sexually frustrated because neither of you had the courage to have sex in that place where anyone could see you if you made too much noise. However, Dabi was the devil in your life worth sinning for.

— What the fuck are you doing here? — Y/N asked almost desperately as she felt Touya wrap one of his arms around her waist to glue their bodies together.

— What? Can't a man miss his beloved and want to go see her? — He asked, holding her face with his free hand. — You barely answer my messages.

— I told you we were going to meet tomorrow, on Friday. — You rested your hands on his chest to move away just enough to look him in the face.

— And about that, you're killing me with curiosity, princess. What are you thinking of doing tomorrow? It's your birthday. — Dabi commented, running his thumb along her bottom lip affectionately.

— I-I know. — You replied, looking away. — I was planning on... going out... with you. — You just didn't say it was going to be an out-of-town trip with no intention of coming back.

— What are you hiding? — He asked, leaning down to place a simple, tender kiss on her lips.

— Would you follow me wherever I went?

— I would follow you to the ends of hell if you asked me to. — Dabi answered, and instinctively you grabbed his face to place your lips back on theirs in a kiss deeper than the one before in a frenzy of feeling.

— Then do it. — Y/N whispered against his lips staring into his beautiful turquoise eyes. — For my birthday the only thing I ask from you is to always be by my side, I don't need material gifts.

Seconds after you finished speaking, the sound of footsteps inside your house could be heard, and a shiver ran down your back as your hands desperately pushed Dabi away in the direction of the very door through which the two of you had entered the yard.

— Damn, not even at dawn I... — Touya began to complain as he walked briskly away from you and disappeared into the darkness of the night to return to his house.

— Shhh, shut up. I'll see you at dawn. Two o'clock, don't forget. — You whispered loud enough for him to hear you as you turned back and faced the back door of your house slowly opening to reveal to you the sleepy figure of your father.

— Honey? — He asked, and you gasped as if you were distracted by something while you could hear your heart beating rapidly. — What are you doing out here? It's late? and cold, you might catch cold.

— I... — Y/N looked around just to make sure there was no more sign of Dabi. — I heard a noise here when I went down to get some water and just wanted to come down and see if it wasn't an animal or something. But it was nothing, I guess it was just my mind playing with me. — It was a good enough lie considering that it wasn't hard to wake up during the night to go to the bathroom or eat something from the fridge.

And then your father called you inside and you promptly went. As the day went on, not even your father's birthday present with the car seemed to quell the anxiety inside you of going to see Dabi in the middle of the night with no intention of coming home. Y/N packed three backpacks and after watching your parents go to sleep, put them all on the back seats of the car after grabbing the keys that your father had left on top of the coffee table in the living room, and also grabbing some money from your father's safe that was in a secluded room in the residence.

After writing a short, albeit long, letter explaining to her mother that she was going to the metropolitan city — but without saying with whom — to try a new life there and that you would be fine because "there were friends waiting for you there" — which was a big lie, but she didn't need to know that — Y/N put on a sweatshirt and ran out of her now former home. Remembering all the various driving lessons her mother had made her take last year, you put the key in the ignition and made sure that your license and other documents were in one of the pockets of the three backpacks on the back seats. And you set off across town to reach the end of the bridge that served as both a gateway into and out of the city, parking exactly beside the welcome sign.

After about fifteen minutes, you watched a silhouette approach through the darkness, and if you didn't recognize the blue-toned sweatshirt with white details that Dabi usually wore when he didn't want to attract attention, you would surely lock yourself inside your car for fear that it was some sexual predator. Before he could finish approaching you at the agreed upon spot and open his mouth to vocalize something, you ran toward him to jump into his arms and kiss him fervently like you hadn't done in almost two weeks. He didn't fight your grip and responded to your display of affection instantly, he missed your touch more than he would admit.

— Where are we going? — He asked, analyzing her new car as he watched you open the back seat door and gestured for him to put his own belongings inside.

— To the big city. — You answered unlocking the door next to the driver's seat after hearing Dabi choke on his own saliva looking at you as if he hadn't heard you correctly. — Come in. — Your head swiveled inward.

— What do you mean we're going to the city? What about your parents? You have a loving family here, I have nothing to lose, but you? — Dabi put one hand on her shoulder and squeezed it gently.

— I want to go to the city. I want to live with you. — Y/N replied feeling her cheeks heat up and looking at him expectantly. — You said you would go anywhere with me, to the ends of hell.

— And I will, but this decision... — You interrupted him.

— Please. For once in my life I want to do things my way. Without having to hide you from anyone, without having anyone judge me for being with you. Let's go to another city, live together, we'll figure it out when we get there. — You put one hand on his forearm, squeezing it gently.

Touya took a few seconds to process the information and after looking from you to the car, he said:

— Where are the keys? — You waved them in front of him, flashing an amused smile. — So get in the car, doll face. I'll drive. — He gave you a light slap on the butt before pushing you toward the driver's seat, getting into the car and putting the key in the ignition. — How long until we reach the city?

— About six hours, we can get there in the morning.

— Great. — Dabi started the car and began to drive along the deserted road while resting one hand on Y/N’s covered thigh and occasionally giving the area a gentle squeeze.

After about an hour of driving, you became distracted by fiddling with your cell phone until you noticed his long fingers sneaking up and over your thighs until they came dangerously close to Dabi's real intended destination. Her eyes cast a serious countenance at him as if she were silently saying: "Don't you dare" and in response his lips parted in a defiant smile as his hand on the steering wheel slowed and eventually brought the car to a full stop.

— C'mon. It's been almost two weeks since we had sex. — He said, lowering the two seats you were sitting on and pulling you to sit on his lap with your back against the steering wheel.

— And the best place you could find to have sex was inside my new car? — Despite your complaint, you didn't try to restrain his hands from reaching into your sweatshirt to grab and squeeze your breasts, nor did you object to the feeling of his knee pressing against the middle of your legs.

Touya lifts your arms and pulls up your sweatshirt and then concentrates on removing the simple tank top and lacy bra you were wearing, shortly after which he leans over your body to take one of your nipples between his lips to begin stimulating it. In response, you rub your hips against his leg as your hands grip his dark hair as a way to relieve the growing tension settling through your body. His hands slowly slid down your back, past your waist and into your pants, while his right hand also invaded your panties to run his fingers over your pussy lips and his left was busy opening the buttons of that garment.

Y/N put her hands on the hem of his sweatshirt, pulled it up, and was not surprised to see him with nothing underneath. Strangely enough, his skin was naturally too warm and it was not hard to believe that even with the low temperature outside the car he would only need a casual sweatshirt to not feel cold. And that was exactly why you liked so much to run your hands along his body exploring him calmly to make your touches last longer.

Dabi turned his body so that you were lying on the passenger seat and stood over you with a smug smile as his hands dug in and squeezed the skin of your legs after he finished getting rid of your pants with some difficulty because of the tight space.

— Keep your legs open for me or I won't let you cum, princess. — He whispered, sliding his mouth down her torso to her pelvis and pulling her hips up as high as possible before burying his fingers inside her pussy and enveloping her clit with his lips.

Y/N's hands gripped Touya's now messy hair and pushed his face against her hip in search of more of that mind-blowing pleasure she had missed for the few days she had been avoiding him. Suddenly the car became extremely hot, almost to the point where you both felt suffocated and ironically neither of you cared about that, not when Dabi was curving his fingers and sucking your clit in the way that always made your vision cloud and too loud moans escape your mouth. But, you didn't want to cum in his mouth, so your hands moved his face away from your hips and pulled his body up.

— Please, Touya, I need you inside me. — Her voice was slurred by her rapid breathing.

Dabi didn't need you to say anything else, he just stepped back briefly to get rid of the clothes that were still covering his lower body, adjusted your hips to his, leaned on the car door behind your body and guided his cock to the entrance of your pussy. As you felt him fill and enlarge you completely with his tip rubbing against your cervix, you groaned, leaning on his shoulders to face him and watching the small rise against your belly that was always present when that black haired man penetrated you.

Touya slid one hand down your neck and closed his fingers around your neck applying just the right amount of pressure to make waves of pleasure run through your body and not to hurt you. He began to move and Y/N passed her legs around his waist moving her body downward every time Dabi moved upward, occasionally he would take her lips on his just because he liked to feel her moans against his mouth and the rhythm of his hips gradually began to get harder and faster.

— I should cum inside you, hmm? — Touya asked, keeping eye contact with you every moment he thrust inside you again and making you clench your walls around his length without you even realizing it. — Damn, I love you so much, you have no idea what I would do for you.

— So show me. — You grabbed the wrist of his hand that was still resting on your neck and squeezed it without too much force. — Make me your girl.

With a smug and satisfied smile, he continued thrusting himself against her insides to the point where her hips began to ache just seconds before she reached her own orgasm with her nails digging into the skin of Touya's arm and her back arching as spasms coursed through her entire body at a high rate of speed. He gave a few thrusts against your pussy until the white streaks of cum painted your insides and slowly pulled out of you, wanting to prolong the feeling of having you squeeze him some more.

Dabi let his tired body fall back against the driver's seat and concentrated on stabilizing his breathing while you did the same as you looked up at him with the following thought running through your mind: "This is definitely the man I want to be with forever". The thought made your cheeks burn and it didn't go unnoticed by him:

— What? — One of his eyebrows arched.

— Nothing, I was just thinking... about you, about us. — You answered, starting to look around the car for your clothes, and an amused laugh came from Touya's mouth, who looked at you tenderly.

— So I'm always on your mind?

— More than you think, yes. — Y/N answered, leaning over to place a tender kiss at the corner of his lips. — Now get ready, get your clothes, let's get back on the road.

— Can we fuck again before we get to the city again? — Her eyes narrowed in disapproval.

— Shut up, you idiot.

#dabi smut #bnha smut #mha smut #my hero acadamy #boku no hero academia #bnha touya #touya smut #bnha dabi #mha dabi #i4nanami #bnha toya #touya todoroki #dabi x oc #dabi x you #dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #bnha

[sukifans]

Can I request a small Zuko x Fem!Reader, where the reader can't fall asleep and Zuko offers to cuddle with her, and she falls asleep very quickly?

SLEEP // zuko

WC: 1.2k

WARNINGS: none, pure fluff

A/N: my first request!! let’s gooooo!! hope u like this anon, i am so soft for warm zuko. perhaps i wrote this instead of studying for my lab practical... don’t look at me. also i didn’t proofread so don’t come for my ass okay

⇦ 𝘔𝘈𝘚𝘛𝘌𝘙𝘓𝘐𝘚𝘛

The flimsy silks of your night robes whipped around your calves in the frigid evening wind. Being from a village not too far outside the Si Wong Desert, even the Fire Nation’s winter was enough to chill your bones. As much as you disliked being cold, you still preferred the tropical seasons to the constant abusive desert heat you grew up with. Lucky you that a group of insane kids came through your town talking about finding Wan Shi Tong’s Library all those years ago.

The memories made you smile fondly to yourself and you made a mental note to write Katara in the morning and ask her to send some warm furs. Sure, you could probably get something much quicker from a local vendor, but Sokka always boasted about how his people make the best blankets. You folded your arms across your chest and shuddered in the biting wind, leaning forward against the balcony railing as you looked out over the sleepy city.

The sound of footsteps behind you made you glance over your shoulder and you smiled at the sight of a rumpled-looking Zuko. “Evening, Fire Lord,” you hummed.

“It’s far too late at night for you to address me by my title, Advisor.” He ran a hand through his already mussed hair and came up to stand beside you, leaving a respectable distance between you. Even so, you could feel the warmth radiating from his body and you subconsciously shifted closer.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“Not really,” he sighed. “You neither?”

“Nope.” You shook your head. “Too cold.”

He looked at you out of the corner of his eye with a wry grin. “So you decided to come stand outside, in the cold?”

“The inner machinations of my mind are an enigma, Zuko. Don’t try to keep up.” You laughed at his eye roll. A particularly harsh burst of wind blustered across the balcony and you pulled your arms in tighter around yourself, shivering.

“C’mere, idiot,” he chuckled, reaching out to pull you closer. Your mouth dropped open in faux-outrage.

“That’s an awfully rude way to speak to your top advisor on Earth Kingdom relations,” you huffed. You still let him move behind you and hug you to his chest, wrapping his arms around your middle.

“Yeah, yeah,” he murmured, leaning down to rest his chin on your shoulder. “You’re shaking like a leaf, (Y/N). You need to go back inside.” Despite his words, neither of you made to move away from the railing. You started to feel warm and sleepy, closing your eyes and leaning your head back against his shoulder as you melted into his embrace. He clasped your hands in his own, clicking his tongue when he felt your freezing fingers. You could still feel goosebumps along your skin, but now it was from the way his hot breath danced across your exposed collar bones. He flinched a little when you turned your head to press your cold nose against his neck. You could swear you felt his pulse racing just as hard as yours under his skin.

You opened your eyes again and moved so your lips almost grazed his ear as you whispered, “are you having those nightmares again?” You knew your friend went through sleepless spells plagued by terrible dreams of his father and the war and losing his loved ones. When he’d joined you and the Avatar and your friends, you were the first to notice how he’d sometimes jump awake at night, panting and sweating. One night, not unlike this night, during his first year as Fire Lord, he’d bared his soul to you and described the horrors he faced in his sleep. Ever since, you’d often sought out each other out when rest was evasive.

He simply nodded and buried his face into your hair, declining to elaborate. He didn’t know how to tell you that recently he’d been dreaming about losing you; that sometimes he’d wake up with your name caught in his throat and his cheeks wet with tears. You hummed in understanding and removed one of your hands from his to card your fingers through his hair soothingly. The gentle motion of your nails scratching against his scalp was almost starting to lull him into a trance state. You giggled when he let out a little contented sound.

“Don’t laugh,” he grumbled, “it feels nice. You know what you’re doing to me.”

“You’re like a happy, cute little turtleduck getting a head scratch.”

“I’m one of the most powerful men in the world, (Y/N); please don’t call me a ‘cute little turtleduck.’” He lifted his head from your shoulder with a groan and you turned in his arms to face him, not missing the way the moonlight illuminated the blush on his cheeks.

“Don’t act like a cute little turtleduck and I won’t call you one.” You raised your arms to drape around his neck and pressed closer to his warmth.

In moments like these, when Zuko looked at you like that, you wished he would just throw caution to the wind and kiss you already. You two had been toeing the line of “more than friends” for years at this point. It all drove you crazy—the lingering glances, the brushing fingers, the comforting touches, the tender embraces, the sweet smiles. You loved him and you knew that he loved you but any time there looked to be some progress he’d shrink away. With Zuko, your relationship felt like a complicated waltz of one step forward, three steps back, nine steps forward, twenty steps back. All you could do was follow his lead and wait.

His hands skimming up and down your sides made your heart do somersaults in your chest, knocking around your breath. “You’re lucky I have a soft spot for you.”

“You and I both know you’re all bark and no bite,” you laughed, poking his muscular chest. “All warm and squishy under that big, tough Fire Lord exterior.”

“Just don’t let the bad guys hear you say that.”

“Your secret’s safe with me, my lord.” He felt a pull in his stomach at your use of that title and you again noticed the pink tinge of his face that usually accompanied the nickname.

“Alright, Advisor (Y/N),” he slid his hand down your arm to lace your fingers together, “let’s get you back to bed.”

“You gonna keep me warm, Lord Zuko?” you asked as you walked beside him back inside and through the torchlit palace halls.

“Of course. Can’t have you getting sick, now can I?” Neither of you mentioned that you both slept better with the other in bed.

He led you into his chambers, where the bed was bigger and the sheets were softer and a fire always roared in the hearth. You laid your thin robe over a chair in the room, leaving you in just your nightdress as you followed him under the covers, snuggling up against his chest with his arm around you. As soon as you laid your head down on his shoulder you started to nod off. You smiled to yourself, happy that you were awake enough at least to feel the kiss Zuko pressed to the top of your head and hear the whisper into your hair that sounded suspiciously along the lines of, “I love you.”

ATLA TAGS: @hotgirlazula @octophopi @simpinforsukka

ZUKO/SOKKA TAGS: @fiantomartell @buckywiththagoodhair @hypercakeiii

#zuko x reader #zuko x you #zuko x y/n #prince zuko x reader #firelord zuko x reader #zuko fic #zuko fluff #zuko #mine #requests #avatar the last airbender #atla #avatar fic #atla fic #atla x reader

[thecandywrites]

Micro-mermaid Chenera Part 1

So, I know I'm, like two months late for Mermay, BUT. I had this amazing dream about micro-mermaids.

So hear me out- mermaids- half fish half human right? Deep sea mermaids/sirens would get HUGE to combat the pressure and stuff right? Well take it the other direction tiny pools in the amazon or the tropics, where we find guppies and betas and little very vibrant, very little fish but with a fantasy twist- micro-mermaids. Adults as big as your fingers, with kids and babies the size of your fingertips and finger nails, based on real fish, like betas, guppies, oscars, mollys, tetras and the like.

My mom ALWAYS kept at least one fish tank growing up, usually fresh water, one time she kept a brackish tank too, saltwater tanks were always too pricy for us BUT SO PRETTY TO STARE AT- AT THE FISH STORES. It's a life long hobby for her that she passed down to at least one of my sisters, my other sister is into guppies and betas almost exclusively and the different kinds and colors just within those two varieties are almost endless. And watching fish swim in a beautiful and healthy fish tank is documented to help out mentally and ease anxiety and even depression. Imagine what it would be like to have a tank of micro mermaids! Especially multiple kinds the way most will have multiple kinds of fish in a tank. I also got the idea from watching a documentary about how TINY little seahorses can be and of course My Little Mermaid- inner tween said 'tiny seahorse needs tiny micro-mermaid to ride it!' And of course seahorses especially are notoriously difficult to keep in captivity. If micro-mermaids were real, I'd imagine the same kind of thing. An expensive hobby that most would dump money into just for the privlidge of having their own wonder of nature.

And just like we have fish stores and fish breeders, think micro-mermaid breeders. Some are really good, others can be crappy, and this story follows a responsible, loving breeder, (more or less based on my mom who I love immesurably)

But me, being...well me, I can't write anything and not have a bit of angst, a good pinch of romance, eventual consentual smutty goodness and eventual happily ever afters. So...heads up.

Also since little fish tend to have shortened lifespans of only a few years, I'd imagine a micro-mermaid's lifespan would be similar in that they'd be shortened as well, so when you read cycles, that's in days. But also don't think of it as to the mermaids being years, if a micro-mermaid is 22 cycles, aka 22 days old, it's approxomately 11 years old in human terms so these guys are literally babies and kids when we meet them and get to watch them 'grow up' so to speak. So again, cycles=days divided in half= human years as point of reference.

But considering most merfolk in the ocean would live for who knows how long- if the average beta can live 2-5 years, lets say micro-mermaids can live to be 5-8 years old. Which compared to most little freshwater fish, is still, practically ancient. time passes differently for different beings, like dog years/human years/elven years kind of thing.

Cool? Cool. Let's dive in! (pun intended)

Micro-Mermaid

Chenera

Part 1

Ethel watched with baited breath from outside the glass as your parents gently used their billowy fins to circulate fresh oxygenated water across their eggs that had they laid in their small cave, made out of a large, fancy geode that Ethel had put into their tank to use as their cave to lay and hatch their young, the pockets of facets in the geode assisting to keep the eggs secure so that they would stay put and hatch successfully.

Ethel was a micro-mermaid breeder, and your parents were considered “royal chameleon” merfolk, a breed made special in that they could, like a chameleon, change their colors to suit their environment, but their fin structure and body confirmation was as if you crossed a beta with a mermaid, but in the micro scale, their large, billowy fins, long hair and plump bodies, an ethereal ideal for the subspecies.

And at a certain stage in their lives, she would put the adolescents into a much brighter colored tank, with things like hunks of gold and platinum and special rocks surrounded by color shifting fabrics on the outside of the glass so that the adolescents would always change into fancy, bright colors with precious metal accents and shifts of colors and special effects to their fins so that they could attract an equally colorful, healthy and vibrant mate and therefore, be worth much more on the market to enhance already immaculate genetics.

Ethel’s other tanks had schools of other micro mermaids of all kinds, from guppies, oscars, swordtails, molly’s, tetras and the like. Ethel was quite the collector and seemed to have every variety of micro mermaid both in nature and that could be bred in captivity and she was highly sought after in the industry because she treated each micro mermaid with the same tender loving care that she would treat her own children, if she had ever got to have them and her home might as well have been a mini aquarium since she ran one of the high end, micro-mermaid aquariums in the city and her home was where she bred the majority of her stock and her personal favorites that she was especially attached to.

Ethel preferred to sell mated pairs of micro-mermaids since micro mermaids preferred to mate for life but others preferred the “harem method” having a few females to a single male to get more clutches of eggs and thus, more micro-mermaids to sell since all the females could be laying clutches of eggs but that was usually harder on the female since she would have to care for the eggs mostly on her own since the male’s attention would be divided among all the clutches of eggs and even in the harem style, the male would prefer the company of his favorite and thus her eggs as well, and while that method got more micro-mermaids in volume, it usually always lacked in quality, the micro-mermaids would be slim, aggressively competitive and prey driven and would only live half as long, but wild caught micro-mermaids usually died before they could produce a clutch in captivity and capturing wild micro-mermaid clutches could be almost impossible since they usually hid them so well. Especially since male micro-mermaids could be very territorial once as mated adults. But before the mating process as adults, males could be housed together as kids and teens while in captivity.

Ethel had one particular tank though where she called it the “odds and ends” tank, where usually the last of her older micro-mermaids had clutches and died before the eggs could fully develop, where she would move the clutches into the large tank to be cared for by the community, something like an orphanarium for micro-mermaids that had a little bit of everything in it and to see so many varied individuals, and sometimes divided off into schools, it was one of her favorites to sit and watch and drink her tea.

She would even get clutches from other breeders, who would usually get overwhelmed or would run out of funds to keep the tanks going since micro-mermaids could be a very expensive hobby because they had a very specific and very demanding feeding and housing requirements depending on the subspecies, the salt water varieties being the most so. But in this particular room, was the “freshies”, she had other rooms in her house, the “brackies” or brackish water types, and her most coveted, the “salties” that room she kept under lock and key since the occupants of that room were worth thousands of dollars each and everything had to be controlled specifically and carefully.

Ethel usually had the laying and hatching process down to a meticulous science, she liked to keep her tanks at a specific temperature for the “incubation” process, where the eggs themselves would incubate at what Ethel had found over the years- was the “perfect” temperature so that almost all the eggs would hatch, the adults would be comfortable, but at the same time, the food she would put into the tanks to feed the micro-mermaids would not rot and attract flies or other scavengers who would try to fly into the house and prey not only on the mico-mermaid’s food but on the micro mermaids themselves.

You were one of the first to hatch, the egg’s shell breaking to allow you to break free as you squirmed out and into your father’s hands before he caught a few of your siblings who did the same before he cooed to you and greeted you happily as you opened your big eyes up at him and snuggled into his chest before he waited for your siblings to get their first and only milk from your mother, that would set up your gut to eat for a lifetime, before you were swapped out with your siblings and once you had your first milk, then you were brought up to the surface to get just a small breath of air so your air bladders would be filled and so you could navigate the whole tank easily before both of your parents touched your head, and the heads of all your siblings to the gold nugget in the tank so that all of you would have golden heads and hair, a trait that both your parents and Ethel prided themselves on.

It also served as a marker for which group you came from, your parents were the “gold standard” of the subspecies of beta-micro-mermaids. And other pairs had different metals or different colored stones so that each pair and their children would have that “mark” to signify which ones came from which parents for future breeding purposes, so that just by looks, they could decipher your genetics instead of having to go to the master gentics manual to decipher it all the time.

Now with the air in your air bladder and your first milk in your system, now your life fully began as you fully woke up and became conscious and thus wriggly and your siblings began exploring the tank as Ethel sprinkled in “baby bits” which was a composite of larve, krill, mackerel, anchovy, feeder-fish as well as algae as you and your siblings happily began “hunting” your first real meal, some of them using the surprise attack, whereas you and a few of your other siblings used the “stalking” method, hiding behind the roots and foliage of the plants at the top of the tank before you “pounced” and grabbed ahold of your favorite little bit and bit down into it, like a big loaf of bread that got softer to eat the more it was in the water as your tiny little teeth helping you eat it as you chewed it and held it between your two tiny hands and swam down back down to the bottom and sat in the soft sandy area, which was affectionately known as “the sand pit” with your other siblings who had hatched within the last few moments as your parents were busy helping the others that were hatching and repeating the process over and over until the whole clutch hatched.

“Well hello there beauties!” Ethel greeted as she waived with a big smile as you looked over and while your first instinct was to freeze and change into the color of your surroundings, to see your parents waiving back seemed to relax the rest of you.

“It’s ok, that’s Ethel, she’s the one who takes care of us and feeds us.” Your parents introduced before you used your tiny hands to waive back like your parents had as Ethel’s smile grew wider and more excited before she sprinkled in more “baby bits” for your siblings that would be hatching in the next few hours before she left and went to her other tanks to check up on the couples and the other clutches of eggs to repeat her process as she then tried to take notes of the other hatchlings and trying to count to see how many had hatched that day and once you were all full, you piled up in the silky soft sand to take your first rest from your first full day.

Since micro-mermaids aged quickly, it was only a few weeks and all of you had grown into playful rambunctious kids, swimming and chasing each other around the tank, building up strength and stamina, Ethel had turned the temperature of the tank down to a cooler temperature to incite your appetite and help you bulk up and gain a layer of fat over your buddening muscle and your parents had given all of you names to keep you accounted for as you learned language and all the various kinds of communication, at this point in time, all of you had the same gold heads and hair but could take on the colors of your surroundings so that some of you took on the sandy color of the “sand pit” or others had taken on the green color of the foliage of the plants that grew in the tank or the colorful geode and if it wasn’t for your gold heads, Ethel would have the hardest time finding any you in the tank besides your parent's who's colors for the most part had "fixed" into permanant colors. Your mother a colorful pearlescent, your father a striking metalic green, blue, purple and black.

The very few eggs that didn’t make it, your parents had given to Ethel to dispose of respectfully so as not to incite cannibalism and in the exchange you each got to touch Ethel's larger, but wrinkled hand and had carressed it as Ethel cooed at you, watching you all fondly and noting each one's unique colors and personality.

You had been one of the ones who liked to play in the foliage and plants at the top of the tank, often leaping out of the water to splash in the water at the top of the tank, a few times, hitting the lid, at first, it was on accident, then it was on purpose, to let Ethel know that you and your family were hungry as Ethel often chuckled at your antics when you would watch her make her rounds and feed the rest of the tanks.

“Who is keeping who here?” She would often chortle as she laid a few pieces of raw mackerel into the tank to watch your parents, you and your siblings, use little shards as "weapons" from the geode as well as little pieces of bones from previous meals to stab and attack the pieces and devour it, often having to fish out the bones out later with her little net. Micro-beta-mermaids had one of the most demanding and specific diets whereas the others wouldn't be so picky. But the better the food now, the better quality the micro-beta mermaid and better health and long life you would enjoy in later life. For Ethel, it was worth the money, time and effort to make sure each little being thrived the best they could.

Ethel's younger "adopted children" who she employed were more tech savy and had cameras set up on Ethel's most beautiful tanks with the more precious and prized occupants and set up a YouTube channel and live feed channels and seeing baby micro-mermaid babies hatch was always popular and Ethel's business boomed.

And while Ethel didn’t have children of her own, she seemed to adopt many who came into the micro-mermaid hobby and you saw many of the same people, most who worked for her would come and check up on Ethel on her days off and bring their children who often stared with big, starry eyes at you and your siblings as well as the others so that all of you got used to seeing different people so that when you would eventually be mated up, being moved into the store front wouldn’t be that big of a deal to you. It had been a tried and true method for Ethel for the last forty years and most followed her excelent example.

Then, one day, a small group fairies broke into the place and roused you from your sleep as you saw the glittering glows move around the room as you left the sleep pile in the sand pit to see what was going on and swam to the top and by now, you had grown big and strong enough to lift the lid as you cracked it open just enough to see better. But that seemed to be just what another was waiting for as you were grabbed and yanked from the tank as you screamed, all the water in your lungs splashing out as you watched in horror as other curious ones had also been yanked from their tanks and were being moved to a large plastic bag with hardly any water in it, as you squirmed and thrashed and took your little stone pick like blade that you always had tucked into the longer scales around your tailfin and stabbed at the vicious creature trying to fly you to the bag as the bag was picked up and several fairies were trying to fly it out of the house.

But your attempts to free yourself from it's grasp worked, it let you go and you thankfully landed onto the back of the other fairy, pick first so as to stab it by the heart, before you bounced off of it’s back into another lid of the tank, this tank being the odds and ends one, but the force of you hitting the fairy, bouncing off the fairy, and hitting the lid- shut the lid to keep anything else from getting in or out and had actually drowned the little vicious fairy trying to steal what it could from that tank and in the darkness, you swam until you felt the gravel of the bottom of the tank and swam until you found the deepest depression, under another cave and hid yourself in the darkness, using it’s dark nature to turn yourself as black as the night’s darkness itself, except for your gold head and hair which you used to hide in the deepest part of the little crevice like cave, moving the gravel around under it to make room for you to ball yourself into.

Come morning Ethel awoke to the horror to see that her home had come under attack as none of the micro-merfolk would come up from the bottom of the tank as she opened all the tanks and once opened the odds and end’s tank to see the drowned fairy floating on the top which caused rage to fill her as she knew that someone or something had incited the fairies of all beings to break in and steal her precious stock as she immediately tried to do some damage control and try to figure out who and what was taken as it seemed each tank had micro-merfolk-children missing because a full adult would have been too big and too strong to steal and would have drowned whoever or whatever might have tried to take them as she went to her other rooms, the brackish room was thankfully locked, but she could see little scratches and claw marks at the doors and especially around the saltwater room. But the freshies were in her livingroom and thus, open to the rest of the house, that’s why it got hit. Almost all the tanks were missing at least one child, the name of each child missing being written in the little bit of algae that had accumalated on the glass since the last cleaning as Ethel used a big magnifying glass to see it and then translate it from the merfolk's language as Ethel just kept crying, her tears streaking down her wrinkled and weathered face and falling onto her reading glasses.

Ethel offered her condolences to the families that lost little ones and made a memorial for the ones who had been taken and fed all the tanks a “funeral” meal, which was the most expensive and most comforting food she could as she made some calls to her friends and business partners and employees, as well as the police to see what could be done as soon the police arrived and detectives arrived along with all of Ethel's friends and neighbors came to give Ethel comfort as the police and investigators tried to document the break in and get statements from everyone about the theft and make notes so that Ethel, who had each and every single one of her micro-merfolk insured, could contact her insurance company and begin the claim process.

Meanwhile Nona had awoken to see a couple of his adopted siblings had been attempted to be taken but something had shut the lid on the fairy so their particular tank had survived from losing anyone. Although with it being the odds and ends tank, not much of really high value was in the tank to begin with. But looking out over to the other tanks in the room, he could see that the other tanks were mourning the loss of their own as the police were there, although they were finishing up the investigation and leaving with the drowned fairy and other pictures as proof of what had happened. But that also meant that they got a whole raw mackerel for the whole tank as everyone was feasting on it while he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye, something gold - flashing, catching the light before it disappeared again.

He paused in eating and took off a hunk and went over to where he thought he saw the glint of gold and heard the gravel move under the cave before he got down on his belly and peered into the crevis under cave that was it's own little cave he supposed but he didn’t see anything but black but felt the most subtle pressure wave, as if something was moving around in the crevice under the cave. He took a chance and simply set the hunk of mackerel down at the mouth of the cave and went back a fair distance to see if anything would come out and take it and hid behind the base of one of the plants and waited a few long moments before he could just barely see a small glimmer of gold again, before a small, light sandy colored hand attached to a small goldish sandy colored arm reach out and grab the bit of mackerel before it quickly took it back into the crevice and he could have sworn he heard munching sounds of someone eating it.

He quickly went back to the whole mackerel and tried to swipe a larger piece and carry it back to the crevice and tore it into two pieces and laid one at the mouth again as he slowly chewed on the other half, only he didn’t swim away, instead he sat and tried to peer in to see what was in there before he saw a glimmer of gold then it quickly vanished.

It was definitely another micro-merperson. He just had never seen anyone like it before.

“Hello?” He called into the crevice but you were still too scared to venture any closer.

“Are you ok in there? Are you hurt? What’s your name?” He asked but instead you just tried to sink down into the darkness. The water was different in this tank. It didn’t smell or taste like home. It was foreign to you and you didn’t know what tank you had fallen into. You knew some micro-merpeople did not tolerate intruders and you were afraid that if you ventured out, you would be attacked, you were unarmed and only an elder child, you were no match for an adult or even subadult.

So instead, Nona finished his hunk of mackerel and gently used his colorful tail fin to push the rest of it into the crevice before you took the offered piece and ate that too, not knowing when you would get another chance to eat again.

“See? I’m not gonna hurt you. But I just really want to know if you’re ok. Are you’re ok in there?” Nona asked worriedly as he came in and you backed up as far as you could and tried to make yourself as small as you could, folding up your own billowing fins as small as they could be before he came in and started gently grasping around the crevice for you.

“It’s ok, I promise it’s ok. I’m not going to hurt you.” Nona tried to reassure you as his fingertips grazed your fin and you quickly dove to another corner of the crevice to get away from him, but your movement caused the little bit of light to glint of your golden head and the shimmering black of your body as you moved and Nona could hear your labored breathing as he felt the water move around as you moved and settled again before he found the back of the cave and stretched out his hands as wide as he could and began to go forward again before you dove for the other corner on the other side, this time your outline was shown against the light coming in from the mouth of the crevice and all Nona saw was gold from your head, down your hair before it flowed into a shimmering pitch black again before Nona realized that you were no bigger than he was, in fact you were a little smaller than him and the scent on the water told him you weren’t from this tank, from another but he couldn’t recognize the scent because a clutch had never come into this tank from yours before. You were a kid, obviously from another tank, you must have been dropped in by the fairy, having grabbed you from another tank and trying to grab a second from his own tank.

“My name is Nona, and I’m 22 cycles old and we’re in the odd’s tank. You’re ok, you’re safe, no one is going to hurt you, not in this tank. Ethel’s really good about if there are any bullies, she pulls them out and puts them in the bully tank. You are not in the bully tank so you’re safe. I promise you, you’re safe. No one is going to hurt you. I won’t hurt you and I won’t let anyone or anything hurt you either.” Nona tried to reassure you as he came forward again as he closed his eyes and focused on the sounds of your breathing and even he could feel your fast heart rate pulse in the small crevice’s water, this time his hands forming an open reaching motion before his hands settled on your face and jaw before he opened his eyes to see two gold ones blinking back at him rapidly as he could feel your fast heart rate stay fast before it eventually started to slow before he chanced a small swipe of his thumbs on the apples of your cheeks as he just stared in awed wonder at you before you finally broke down and flung yourself at him and pinned him down onto the floor of the crevice, clinging to him and crying.

“It was awful, I saw all these pretty moving lights, it was glowing and glittering like the jewels do only it was from on the outside and I swam up to the top of the tank and once I did I was yanked out of the water and my mother always told me to keep a weapon in my tail so I took it and I stabbed at it as much as I could and it dropped me and I hit another fairy and I lost my blade and I fell down and I could feel the other monster that was at the top begin to drown but I just dove down and tried to find the safest spot I could but I didn’t know what tank I’m in and I thought I was in one of the shark tanks and I thought if I left, I was gonna get eaten!” You wailed into his chest as he wrapped his arms around you and comforted you.

“Do you know what tank you’re from?” He asked.

“No, I just know that my parent’s names are Avarian and Miralia.” You shook your head no.

“Ok, well I’m sure when Ethel cames back for dinner, once she sees you, she’ll know which tank to return you too so you can be with your family.” Nona consoled you.

He had never felt another mergirl’s hair as soft as yours, it was like it was softer than anything he had ever felt before, or felt one who was so young to have hair so as long, it went to your tail and usually only the elder micro-mermaids had hair that long but they kept it in braids to keep it from being tangled. But you were also a bit heavier than most girls would be at your age and your fins were bigger than his! He was a delta guppy micro-merman himself, known for their massive and colorful tails but his own was dwarfed by yours.

“So, what’s your name?” He asked again.

“Chenera.” You sniffled.

“Well it’s nice to meet you Chenera, like I said, my name is Nona.” He repeated.

“Do you know how old you are?” He asked

“I think only 19 cycles, 20, counting today.”

“Ok, so you’re younger than me.” Nona realized.

“Are you sure you’re ok? You’re not hurt or anything?” He asked again.

“I am.” You finally admitted as you could already tell there was bruising all over you and scratches from that vicious fairy’s claws.

“Ok, well do you want to go to the healer or do you want the healer to come to you?” He asked.

“Can they come here? I don’t want to leave.” You admitted.

“Ok, well, stay here then, and I’ll go get them, I’ll be right back ok? Two flicks of a tail.” He reassured you before he gently eased you off of him before you curled in on yourself in the darkness and he got out and raced towards the eldest merperson in the tank, who was especially inept at healing magic.

“I found someone.” He said as he tugged on her arm as she sat and ate the head of the mackerel, the best part of the fish.

“Found who?” She asked.

“The fairy that drowned in our tank, trying to steal the little ones, it was carrying another from another tank, she got away and hid under the big cave where we keep the half clutches. She got really hurt. Her body is all puffy.

“If she’s a goldfish micro- her body should be a little puffy.” She argued.

“She’s not like any other goldfish micro. She’s something I’ve never seen or smelled before.” He insisted.

“She’s hurt, she’s scared, she’s younger than me by a few cycles, she’s in the wrong tank and thinks if she leaves, she’s gonna get eaten. It took a lot just for me to get her to talk to me. Her name is Chenera, and she doesn’t know what tank she’s from. All she knows is her parent’s names. She says she’s hurt, she needs you.” Nona pleaded desperately.

“Ok, ok, I’m coming, I’m coming.” She finally relented before Nona practically dragged her to the mouth of the crevice.

“She must be a young one to fit inside here.” The elder- Thya noted.

“Chenera, I have the healer here, but she can’t fit in there, can you just come to the mouth of the cave so she can see you?” Nona asked before he stuck his upper body inside.

“It’s ok, she’s not going to eat you.” Nona reassured you.

“Here, I wouldn’t introduce you to anyone dangerous. Take my hand, it’s going to be ok.” Nona encouraged as he reached his hand out to you before you tentatively took it and he gently guided you to the mouth before you stuck your head out, your long golden hair suddenly picking up the cross current and being taken away in that.

“Oh my gills.” Thya murmured in awe.

“Hey Chenera was it? Hi, I’m Thya, I’m the eldest mermaid here and the healer of the tank, can you show me what hurts?” She asked.

“My head, and my back and, my arms, and most of my tail, just, everything.” You answered as you looked from her to Nona, back to her worriedly.

“Nona, go get Abaria and Fonta, she’ll need a mother’s touch.” Thya urged Nona but your tightened your grip on his hand ,kept him from going.

“Here darling, take my hand, let him go get some more help, he’ll be right back ok?” Thya offered as she offered her own hand to you before Nona simply put his hand next to hers so it wouldn’t take much for you to let go of him and hold onto her before you hesitantly transferred your hand from Nona’s to hers before he quickly swam away again and came back with three mother looking figures, the two Thya suggested and his own.

“Oh you poor thing! Did that vicious fairy drop you into here?” Abaria asked as she came and sat closest to you as the other mothers crowded around you as you nodded.

“Well you’re in the best tank in the place, we’re all found family here. No one is going to hurt you here. It’s ok to come out. Or are you too hurt to come out?” They asked.

“Come here darling. It’s ok. I know you must miss your mom something awful, but until we get you sorted out, I’m adopting you and I can be your mom until you’re reunited with your other one ok?” Abaria offered before you looked from Abaria back to Nona.

“She’s one of the best moms in the tank besides my own. She’s mom to most of the kids in the tank and she takes care of everyone like she laid the eggs herself.” Nona reassured you before you hesitantly crawled out of the crevice as the others scooted back so that all of you could come out.

“My goodness, how did all of you fit in there?” Thya asked once you were out and your fins unfurled. You had bigger fins than the adults even.

“Like this.” You contracted all your fins until it was just your body and a thin folded fin was behind you.

“You’re a plump little thing aren’t you?” Fonta noted.

“Not any more than any of my siblings, we’re all shaped like this.” You defended, unfurling your fins to cover yourself- self consciously as you pouted under her scruitinging.

“Well that’s good, that means that you and your siblings are well cared for and are fed well. And with a head like yours but a body like yours, it’s hard to know what tank you’re from.” Abaria sighed with an apologetic smile as she pet your head, feeling your silky soft hair before the other kids came around to curiously look to see you, all of them of different ages, some as young as three cycles and some as old as 30, one of the oscar-micro-mermaids, who was 27 cycles, already seeing all he needed to see, you were, in his opinion, the prettiest girl in the tank, therefore, you were going to be his future mate as the other girls in the tank looked at you with both weary suspicion, jealousy and a bit of pity because you clearly didn’t belong in the tank and with as black as you were form the chest down, you stuck out like a sick fin, but with a head and hair like gold, it was still a beautiful combination.

“Who’s that?” They asked.

“The fairy that attacked us last night, took her from her home tank and dropped her in here while they were trying to steal you guys.” Thya answered them.

“She didn’t fall from the fairy that came into our tank, she fell from way higher, like another was carrying her from way higher, she hit the fairy, hit them into the water, bounced off of their back, hit the lid and made the lid close and drowned the fairy, she saved us.” The kids that had been involved offered.

“Oh my gils, is that what happened?” They asked you as you nodded yes as Thya used the glowing of her hands to highlight all your bruises and cuts so that most of body glowed blue from injuries before she went through and healed each one, and noticed that the black then took on a midnight blue appearance, which she had never seen before and puzzled everyone around you.

“Oh you poor baby, come here.” Abaria gathered you into her arms and comforted you, and held you to her chest and gently rocked you comfortingly once your upper body was healed while Thya worked on your tail.

But sadly, Ethel left to go to work before the others could grab her attention. You spent the rest of the day talking to Thya and Abaria about what your tank looked like and what the names of your siblings were as it was clear to them that you were one of the more ‘special’ tanks but because of your coloring, you didn’t look like any of the other tanks that they could see from there.

By night time, though, the automatic feeders fed all the inhabitants of all the tanks and then not long after, the lights shut off, signalling it was time for bed.

But when Ethel came home late, the movement of her and her using the flashlight in her phone to make her way to her bedroom, was too much like the fairy’s light as you quickly squirmed out of the sleep pile and dove for that crevice again, hiding away as she passed and went to bed herself but once again, you were scared of coming out.

Your squirming had caused Nona to wake up again since he was nestled close to you, his hand in yours as his own instincts told him to stay put on the bottom of the tank until the light passed by but when he looked over to see where you had been sleeping with Abaria, her mate and their brood, you were gone but he had a feeling he’d know where to find you.

But the thought of sleeping on the gravel instead of the soft sand just hurt him to think about, so he swam around and collected bits of moss and leaves so he would cover the inside of that crevice so you would have a comfortable place to sleep for the night at least.

“Chenera,” Nona whispered when he came closer.

“Nona?” You asked as your head peeked out and saw him.

“A cave under a cave surrounded by gravel is no place to spend the night. Here, all this should make it a little more comfortable at least.” He offered what he had collected before you smiled gratefully at him, your white pearly teeth and golden head a sharp and beautiful contrast to the darkness before he passed each thing to you before you had Nona come in and help you to move even more of the gravel out of the way and dig down so that there was a deeper and more comfortable depression inside before Nona and you set the leaves down first and used the moss to make something of pillow before you laid down and refused to let go of Nona’s hand.

“Can you please stay here with me?” You asked, your big golden eyes too much for him to resist, even at his relatively young age before he laid down beside you, keeping himself between the mouth of the crevice and you as you cuddled into his chest, your fins wrapping around him as his’ tried to wrap around you in turn as he used his arm as your pillow as your hair was almost like a blanket for both of you as your colors changed again, a dark emerald, shimmering green now with black and gold as you settled down before he soon felt you relax completely and fall asleep before he did the same.

#Mermay #Mermay 2021 #Yeah I know #I'm super late #But I couldn't help it that the idea came to me just the other day #Micro mermaids #needs to be a thing #enjoy #mermaids #mermay #Merfolk #exo #exophillia

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

White Lies (Pt. 08 of 21)

Pairing: Keanu Reeves X Reader

Word count: 3 K

Summary: Keanu found the girl almost dead, in the wrecks of what was once her car. While she was in surgery, stuck in a coma, he gathered the best doctors of New York to attend to her. They told him she is likely to have some kind of brain damage, what may lead to memory loss. And this possibility added up wit the fact that she's pregnant, made the council come up with an odd idea. They asked Keanu to pretend to be her husband, since the stress of finding out everything that happened could put the baby in danger. He reluctantly agreed, but only if she does has some kind of memory loss. He still goes she'll wake up soon, with her memories intact.

But when you finally wake up, there's nothing inside. You're quick to find your head is empty, void, like a blank canvas. The only thing that brings you some relief, that makes you feel less lonely is the mention of a husband. And you can't wait to meet him, because you know you can't deal with this by yourself.

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{Keanu Reeves Masterlist}

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“I like Clarissa.” You say, agreeing with Keanu on his suggestion. You're walking home after your morning walk around the neighborhood, and you have your arm on his, panting a little. Keanu wants it to be a girl, and you want a boy, so there's a little bet going on, but neither of you chose what the prize will be yet. “And if it's a boy I like Henry. A name fit for a king.” Glancing at him, you smile.

“I like it too.”

“Great. But we still have some time.” Week 14 has started, and you're only keeping track of it so perfectly because Keanu has a calendar on the fridge, where he counts the days and weeks. It also helps that the e-book you have tells you everything that's happening at the moment, and you usually read it together at the beginning of the weeks. “But...” You stop by the house, sitting down on the steps that lead to the door. “We need to buy some stuff. Not only baby stuff but some pregnancy stuff too.”

Keanu settles down beside you, handing you the water bottle he was carrying, from which you take a sip. “What is it you need?”

“Uhm... Everything I have is getting a little tight. It'll only get worse with time. And...” Clearing your throat, you blush a little, playing with the bottle. “I need bras. Mine are getting small and my breasts are a bit tender so I can't take them squeezing me anymore.”

“Oh.” He sounds a little embarrassed too, what makes you giggle. “Let's go then.” Offering you a hand, he pulls you back at your feet. “Let's shower and head out.”

“Alright.“ You stand there for a while, and you know it's just because he always lets you get in first. But you decide to tiptoe, stepping closer to place a soft peck on his lips before moving inside.

After washing yourself from the thin layer of sweat from the walk, you put on jeans, comfortable white sneakers, and a pink blouse. Deciding to let your hair down, you make your way downstairs, finding Keanu waiting for you in the living room. “Hope I didn't make you wait for too long.” You say, making your presence known. He stands up from the couch, eyes finding you. “Because I have no excuse.” Gesturing at your clothes, way too simple, you shrug your shoulders.

“You look beautiful.” His words make you blush, and you start making the way to the garage.

Keanu opens the passenger door for you to get inside before walking around the car to take his place. You like that he's a simple man, unlike most of the celebrities out there. He drives his car, does his own stuff. He surprises you every day, and sometimes you even forget he's an actor. A very good one.

As he speeds through the city, you can't help but feel excited. You've been procrastinating for a while, but now you can't wait for it. Your stomach is starting to swell, your baby is growing, and you want to start getting things ready. The accident is turning into a distant memory now, as you allow the pregnancy to be the main event of your life. Because it is. You still have a lot of trips to the hospital every week, and Keanu is as careful and protective as he has been since the beginning, but you feel good. Things are amazing with him, moving at a slow but comfortable pace. And you're happy. Beyond happy.

Keanu's heart has been beating faster ever since they got into the store. It's huge, with several different departments. He intended to let her chose everything since he keeps telling himself over and over again this isn't his child. But the lines are starting to blur in his head, and he caught himself thinking the baby to be his.

“Which one do you like best?” She asks him, standing in between two pale beige cribs. (Y/N) wants to add color on the decoration, and of course, he agreed. “I can't choose.”

It warms his heart that she wants him to participate. But of course she does. To her, he's her husband. “This one.” He says, walking over to the crib on her left. “We'll have it delivered at our place.”

“Great.” And she smiles before turning around and continuing further into the store. But she didn't see the mountain of a man she left behind, holding his breath, eyes focused on her back. (Y/N) was clueless about the war happening inside his heart, constantly. Slowly, Keanu comes back to Earth, signaling at some of the women who work here. He didn't notice she was staring at him, too busy focused on (Y/N).

“I want this crib, please.” He politely says, and the woman quickly types something on her tablet.

“Done, Mr. Reeves.” Of course she knew his name, it didn't surprise him. “Anything else?” Her voice gets softer, like some sort of whine. Was she trying to seduce him? Probably. Keanu is well aware of how some women act around him, but this time, she's nothing to him. Just a speck of dust compared to the woman he's staring at now, peacefully looking at strollers, a hand resting on her belly, which just started to swell.

“Yes.” He says. “Come with me, please. We'll be buying some things today.”

“It'll be my pleasure.” She chants, a smirk on her face that Keanu doesn't even see as he starts making his way over (Y/N).

“This one is the best,” Keanu says, getting (Y/N)'s attention. She quickly looks at him. “I was reading about it.”

“This one it'll be then.” She says, flashing him another smile. (Y/N) is especially happy today. Her eyes leave him for a short while, finding the woman. He gets confused at the expression on her face before she turns away. “I wanted to see some clothes, but since we don't know the sex yet, I don't know what color to pick.”

“We can wait until we know.” He suggests and she nods.

As they move through the store, signaling to the woman everything they want, Keanu quickly noticed (Y/N)'s reaction to the employee following them around. It was only after she snapped at the woman that he noticed it himself, that she was trying to discreetly flirt with him.

“Ke, the doctor said I'll need one of those things.” (Y/N) says in a low voice, shyly gesturing at her breasts.

“A breast pump.” He states. “There's another store on the third floor. Let's check there.” Keanu is done with the woman annoying (Y/N), so he pays up for everything, leaves the address for it to be delivered, and guides (Y/N) outside, to the other store.

It's slightly smaller and more focused on the pregnant woman than on the baby, but they succeeded on buying everything for the baby for now.

She easily finds another woman to help her around, way more kind, thankfully, and, as they talk, Keanu follows then around. He eventually stops by some blankets, wondering if she'd want any of them. After some minutes, he resumes following her, but (Y/N) is gone. Keanu feels embarrassed for a while, having lost her in the store. Walking to the back, he sighs in relief when he finds her, looking at some lingerie. For a moment he wonders if he should interrupt, trying not to think too much about what may be in her head.

Shaking his head lightly, he decides to walk over to her. “Did you like it?” He asks, gesturing at the black and light pink pair of underwear she was starting at.

(Y/N)'s cheeks go red when she looks up at him. “N-no. I mean...” She mutters, letting go of the soft fabric. “...Do you like it?” She sounds uncertain, and it's cute the way her cheeks and neck turn into a reddish color.

Keanu doesn't want to answer. He doesn't want to imagine her in this lingerie, but it's too late now. The image is already burning through his head. He was just about to run from the subject when he remembers the lie he's into. And he is tired of lying. “I did. You'll look wonderful in it, but you don't have to buy it if you don't want and if you do, you don't have to wear it for me.” He couldn't help explaining it further, making sure she doesn't feel weird about it.

(Y/N) turns at the lingerie again, thoughtful. “Just this one.” She finally mumbles. “Mrs. Jackson already helped me chose some bras for the rest of the pregnancy and some for after. You know, those that you can pull down to feed the baby...” She's blushing all over again, and Keanu has to bite back a smile.

They have many bags when they leave the store, and Keanu's heart is filled with joy. He always wanted kids, but he never met the right woman. And let's be honest, time was passing. He only wishes this was real. But nevertheless, he loved doing this. He didn't know, or he pretended he didn't, but he was losing it. He was sinking further and further into the lie he created.

Staring at the big mirror you have on the wall of your bedroom, you check how the bra looks. It's not that bad, super comfortable, and it'll have some space for when your breasts grow more. Because they will according to the doctors. You're just about to walk over the edge of the bed to pick your shirt and put it on when the door opens and Keanu comes in.

You stop on your tracks, freezing, quickly crossing your arms. “I'm sorry, I should've knocked.” Keanu is fast to apologize, moving to leave.

“No, wait.” You burst out, running a hand through your hair. He turns back at you, eyes locked on yours. He's trying not to look, that much is pretty clear. Keanu is... Unbelievable. If you didn't want him at all, he'd never push you, he'd forever keep a distance. Taking a deep breath, you put both hands on your hips. “W-what do you think?” It's a stupid question. The bra is nothing special. Just a gray cotton fabric with thin straps, designed to offer some support. “I know it's super simple but...”

“You look absolutely beautiful.” He answers, slowly walking closer, but eyes are still locked on yours.

“Ke... You can look.” It comes out as a whisper, so you clear your throat. “You can look, I don't mind.”

There's this thing about Keanu, a sensation that only gets more intense. When he's away, you want him near, and when he's standing near, you want him even closer. Shyly, you take his hand, running your fingers through his skin.

Stepping forward, ending the distance in between your bodies, you raise your head to look into his eyes. “You can touch me.” The words are a living thing, and there's something in you pushing it out. You didn't know you were that brave... Maybe you're not. But this man is your husband, and you have no idea how you managed to marry someone so incredible. Placing his hand on your side, his fingertips burn on your skin.

Keanu's hand slides from your waist to the small of your back as he pulls you to him, making you collide against his chest. That's when you see his eyes traveling down, lingering just for a while. But it's enough to make you blush hard, a weird knot building on your stomach. “You're absolutely beautiful.” He repeats in a low, soft voice. You can't help but feel self-conscious under his stare, but your thoughts are quick to melt away when Keanu kisses you.

It's soft and slow at first, but you suddenly grow impatient, and you tiptoe, wanting to even climb on him if possible, anything to be closer, to be on him somehow. Deepening the kiss, you start walking backward, pulling him without breaking the kiss. Keanu's hands are all over you, but never moving too far. He's good at this, controlling himself. But you're not. You're running your hands through his chest, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and forcing him to move. You're too lost in him to notice where exactly you were going, so when the back of your legs reaches the bed, you fall back, awkwardly bringing Keanu with you.

A laugh escapes both your lips as he fixes himself on top of you, carefully moving you further into the middle of the bed. But soon enough you realize the position you put yourself into, and you blush, noticing how Keanu clears his throat, lifting his body a little, so his weight won't be on you. But you don't want him to go anywhere. You're still catching your breath, intoxicated by him.

“Sorry I made you fall.”

“It's alright.” He mutters. Biting your lip, you take in his dark eyes set on you. And his body, hovering over yours. “Were you jealous? Earlier today, of that woman at the store?”

Chuckling, you nod. “I guess I was. She was pretty.” Your comment, giving him a small smile.

“She's nothing compared to you, sweetheart.” Keanu kisses you again, but this time, he starts placing kisses along your jaw. He does it slowly though, as if waiting for you to stop him. But you won't. And a gasp leaves your mouth when his lips begin to move down your neck, all the way to your collarbone.

Closing your eyes, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, the need of having him only growing, but an annoying, beeping noise snaps you out of the stupor, and Keanu stops, placing a peck to your lips before pushing himself up. “Someone's calling you.” He says as you lie there, catching your breath.

“Who? I don't know anyone.” Sighing, you push yourself into a sitting position before stretching your arm to take your phone from the nightstand. “Laura.” You mutter. “Oh. We planned on going to that cute vintage coffee shop I told you about.”

“I remember.” He leans closer, a finger under your chin to pull you into another kiss. “Go and have fun, beautiful.”

Biting your lip, you nod, feeling way too many butterflies flying around.

Keanu leaves you at the coffee shop where you meet Laura. She has been your best friend, and you're always seeing each other. She often goes to visit you, and you went to her place a few times too. The coffee shop is cute, and you have a bittersweet chocolate pie. The sun is setting, but its golden light is hidden away by some heavy clouds. There's a storm coming tomorrow.

“So...” She sing-songs when she finishes her smoothie. “How's everything with Keanu freaking Reeves?” Giggling, you look down at your empty plate. “You're blushing, my friend.”

“Well... Your call kinda interrupted us.” Speaking in a low voice, you glance at her. Laura has a weird expression on her face, a little scared, a little confused. It reminds you of Lucia the first time she visited. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no.” She snaps out of it, clearing her throat. “What do you mean by interrupting?”

“Oh, it wasn't...” Shaking your head no, you bite your lower lip. “We were kissing... On the bed and... I don't know exactly what would've happen if we kept going.” Putting a strand of hair behind your ear, you sigh.

“You're falling for him, aren't you?” She asks, smiling a little.

“Yes. I'm falling all over again.” You're still speaking when some loud voices get your attention. Looking at the doors, you notice a group of people trying to push themselves in. “What's that?”

As you stand up, the group finally breaks in, and there isn't much time to think when you see the sea of people coming your way. Moving backward, you stand next to Laura.

“Mrs. Reeves, a few words, please.” A tall woman asks, and dozens of microphones and cellphones pointed at your face.

“Uhm... Alright.” You mutter as they surround you.

The flashes start, and the sudden lights make you feel dizzy. “Nobody knew about your existence until the accident. Why did you and Keanu Reeves kept the secret?”

“We wanted to keep it private. A-away from the public.” You mumble, trying to smile a little.

“Is it true you lost your memory?” A man asks.

“Yes.” Nodding, you run a hand through your hair as they move even closer. You don't want to answer. They don't have to know that.

“Will you and Keanu go on with the marriage or will you break apart?” Another flash and you close your eyes shut for a while, trying to steady yourself, your stomach feeling sick.

“We're... We're fine.” You mutter.

“Is it true you're pregnant?”

“Yes.”

“Will you ever recover your memories?”

“I don't know.”

“(Y/N)!” Laura says, and you feel her hands holding both your shoulders, and that's the only thing that makes you notice you almost fell. “Are you alright?”

“Mrs. Reeves, are there any risk that you could lose the child?”

It takes you some time to process the question, hands holding on the nearest chair, knuckles getting white. Trying to catch your breath, you take Laura's hand. “N-no.” You whisper, hoping they can hear it.

“Who are you, Mrs. Reeves? Can you tell us who you were before?”

“No, I don't–” Your legs fail and you collapse on the floor, your knees hitting the tiles hard. There's a yell coming from the journalists, and you see through their shadows as they come closer to get a good take of you on the floor.

“(Y/N), let's go,” Laura says, trying to pull you up.

Shaking your head no, you stay on the floor, their voices, their questions making your head spin around violently.

“I can't.” Voice barely a whisper, you feel your body shutting down you lower yourself to the floor. It doesn't take much until you see black, and then all your senses are overwhelmed as you fall into unconsciousness.

×

@multific @inumorph @aestheticallywinchester @bvbwestfall @liviiii98 @allie1804-fan @gian-giannina @playboygeniusphilanthropist @partypoison00 @mariafetamina @fortheloveoffanfic @trin303

#keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves fanfiction #keanu reeves #imagine keanu reeves #john wick imagine #john wick fanfiction #john wick x reader

[aphrodite-would-be-proud]

@ava-sr said: EE i do apologize that this is late, but maybe a small request because of my moblit-brainrot. which dates he would like to take you on? maybe like one of those guided painting classes? aGh all i know is that man is the absolute sweetest and i love him with all my heart

Types of dates with Moblit pt.1

{ Moblit x reader | tw:none | fluff | modern }

{ "Vanitas Still Life" 1662 by Edwaert Collier c. 1640 - after 1707 London or Leiden }

Ideal dates : these are dates he plans up ahead, makes sure they go smoothly and you're both are having fun. He really looks forward to these dates, they're like an event for him. He saves them up for important occasions like your anniversary, valentine's day, birthday.

I. Cuddling for hours at a time

you have to understand that in Moblit's overworked and stressful life, moments of respite are rare and far. He's so deprived of touch and love that it's a miracle how he has managed to function without even a beep. The thought of having someone to warm his bed, cradle his worries and put them to rest by simply combing through his hair, never crossed his mind despite having a hundred thoughts running through it per minute.

Some days he manages to forget your existence even, not out of some selfish desire or to belittle you, but out of disbelief, after all it's too good to be true.

You're too good to be true to him.

Your tender words pull him back each time he blindly steps closer to the edge, a never-ending spiral of self-destructive work tendencies awaiting him at the bottomless abyss. Your warm embrace shutting out the swarm of nagging voices meant to guilt him out of rest, to act as if the key to curing his sleep deprivation was to not acknowledge its existence, that fatigue symptoms could be erased by his own homemade placebo remedies.

As if your mere touch could turn anything to gold, and in his case, it did. 

It was what made the difference between an anxiety inducing catastrophic day, and a mere rough stepping stone he could easily manoeuvre around leaving his pace steady and undisturbed.

Reminding that it's okay to fail, to give something your best only for it to crumble to dust. It's a process of trial and error, it takes time and patience.

You don't get to choose how well things end up working out, it's not up to you nor is it your place.

And that's why for him, his ideal place in the world is in your arms, to simply let the rise and fall of your chest lull him into comfortable numbness. His features softening as the oxytocin levels rise, courtesy of your warm embrace, soft skin providing just the right pressure against his own.

Laying on your shared bed together, the soft breeze coming from the open windows moves the thin curtains. Moblit is Holding you close as one of his arms sneak around you, fingertips tracing shapes up and down your back. Face buried in your shoulder as yours rests on top of his head, stray hairs almost tickling your nose when you brush against them.

The passing of time does little to his cotton filled mind, occasionally attempting to pull you even more closer as if it's possible. Legs tangled with yours under the heavy blanket despite him hogging most of it.

Every now and then, when a certain amount of time passes, he'd look at you with half-closed eyes, a lidded look of satisfaction before murmuring in his sleepy voice.

"Do you want to get up?" And despite his sincere words and warm tone, his body makes no move to detach itself from your side.

Does he know the soothing effect of the circles he keeps drawing up your back? Or how much him talking with his lips still pressed against your neck makes you melt just a bit.

Whatever it is, Moblit seems confident in his ability to keep you snuggled against him, tucked underneath the warm blanket and fluffy pillows almost muffling your answer.

II. Visiting a music bar

Preferably something with soft yellowish lights, small enough spaces not meant for dancing but to create an intimate atmosphere akin to a music venue.

A jazz club, maybe a brewery.

Dimmed sunlight seeping through the thin curtained window, shadow traces of people smoking outside while making small talk, cushioned bar stools placed around the long bar with a mirrored wall behind it as several aged bottles and fancy glasses with signatures decorate the wooden shelves.

The quiet chatter of people blurring behind the mellow music the band is playing on the nearby stage, smooth movement with relaxed postures as if they've done this a hundred times before, and they probably have.

You're sitting in one of the booths near the window, a private spot where you're far enough for people not to notice yet close enough to still hear the music flowing.

The beat is slow, hypnotising even that the minutes blur together. 

Moblit giving you a smile as he comes back with your drinks, sitting opposite of you before handing you the cold glass, ice cubes clinking against each other as you raise the frosted rim to your lips, sugary sweet filling your senses, the cooling sensation of the drink slides down your throat.

There's a hint of citrus in it.

You've learned to trust Moblit's choice in drinks after being together for so long, he just knows what's going to taste good and which kind of drink you seem to need without having to say a word.

He seems comfortable here, even referring to the bartender by his name like they've been friends for a while, and maybe they have judging by the out-of-script welcoming he gave Moblit.

One conversation starts another and both of you find it so easy to talk to each other without boundaries or second thoughts, the smiles and occasional chuckles almost never leaving your features while nursing on your drinks.

He tells you stories from his work and about his co-workers. You find yourself entranced by his seemingly abusered line of work and the amount of chuckle worthy instances a single work day can offer.

That one time Hange knocked the liquid incense oils that someone Levi brought to freshen the place, well to their luck the oils fell directly on an open flame from the nearby scented candle which resulted in the fire spreading through the liquid alcohol between the broken glass.

And despite the feeling of dread, from seeing his files catch on fire this story brings him, the sound of your chocked laughter as you almost spilled your drink over your clothes, made it all worth it for him.

III. Antique shop

There was something to be said about Moblit's yearning for especially old looking things, trinkets, crumpled maps, tea stained letters and silvered mirrors.

You can't miss the gleam in his eyes as he opens the antique store door open for you the chime of the door bells following after. The smell of burning incense lingering in the air alongside the slow ticking of an old wooden clock.

The look on his face is of pure fascination, his eyes following the trail of the objects lined on the tables, from the old oil paintings with hand carved frames to the crystals reflecting sunlight next to the colourful stones. Observing as he carefully walks behind you through the narrow spaces between the tables and shelves. 

Pulling your attention whenever he finds a particular curious thing to show you as if it's an offering, it can range from music boxes with a really familiar melody that you can't quite remember or a beautifully shaped rose quartz stone that feels cool against your palm.

Whatever he brings, it often manages to intrigue you in some way. Moblit could always notice things other people would skip over otherwise, scanning the tables was like a small treasure hunt.

He'd always pick one or two leather journals, almost filled to the brim with ink scribbled pages and tea stained spots, personal diaries dating back to the 90's and if he's lucky they might edge towards the 80'. He likes to read them, live in someone else's shoes even for a split second, puzzle pieces falling in place as he figures out what kind of person the author was.

Of course sharing his discoveries with you while having lunch later, not out of pride nor to show off, but out of genuine respect to other people's lives and their dedication for leaving behind a piece of their soul.

IX. Roadtrip 

It's something he plans months ahead in advance, he genuinely wants to make the best out of the few weeks off both of you got to spend together. Making sure to plan a set of destinations, preparing snacks and food, packing your essentials and renting a big enough van.

A small getaway even, to completely leave everything behind and set out on a carefully planned adventure with the one he loves most, you.

Enjoying the fresh weather, the high sun and fast wind as both of you roll down the windows, fields of green and yellow meet you alongside the road the further away you move from the city.

Although be careful; the Moblit behind the wheel is a much much more different than the one you know, he's using all what remains of his self-restraint not to speed down the highway and swirl, the thought crosses his mind every hour or so and he's visibly agitated when you're forced to drive behind a particularly slow driver.

You might even have to remind him of the speed limit occasionally just so you don't end up with a pile of speeding tickets at the end of the trip.

It's like all his usually cautious and calculating demner evaporates into mist the second he touches the steering wheel, Temptations of just flooring it while high on adrenaline still linger in the back of his mind.

Beside that, the trip is a relatively calm one as you get to bask in all the new and different places you'll get to visit. Try new food and walk through different city streets, just the experience of something out of the usual is enough to satisfy Mobilt. Not to mention the fact he gets to experience it with you and just wander around without a purpose or care as long as you're together.

He'll definitely keep in mind what sort of things you seem to like, what intrigues you and the kind of reactions you show. He even started an album filled with mostly your pictures and the things you've seen.

It's most relaxing and filled with low stakes, nothing too fancy but nothing too boring either. Walking the thin line perfectly.

X. Visiting a museum

But not just any museum you see, one centred around natural history. Displaying everything from ancient fossils to full on skeleton displays of a 122 foot titanosaur, depictions of distant relatives of homosapiens and modern evolution trees of the current animals.

Moblit guiding you through the shiny tile floor and between the exhibits while holding your hand, eyes gleaming with passion as he goes on and on about each thing you glance at. Making all the trivial facts seem more fascinating than they have any right to be.

The squeaking sound of footsteps echoing on the too clean floors as four children pass you by, racing each other towards the iron suits of armour on display. They almost fall over the red ropes from leaning too close in, their caregiver seemingly busy talking with a security guard over the 'smoking not allowed' sign. 

You spare them a final glance before following Moblit through the corridor leading to the world history & old inventions section. Soon enough he steals your attention again as he begins talking about the first airplane prototype that you can't help but be enamoured by.

Despite there being a sign framed on the wall that sums up the jest of Moblit's lecture, he manages to make it not only less boring but add his own twist and uncommon known facts to it that it feels less of a history trip and of an interesting conversation.

He has so much knowledge that he's so eager not to only share but hear your own opinion and take on it, valuing your view no matter what amount of knowledge you have over the subject.

XI. Painting together

It's an idea that you offhandedly suggested after your museum visit, after all spending an hour in the Impressionism era gallery did leave an impression on you. And so the suggestion of checking out an art store for some acrylics and a couple brushes left your lips on the way home without a second thought.

Well little did you know that the small suggestion managed to latch into Moblit's brain for weeks after, making him spend his free time searching and gaining information on painting and how to start, he even managed to find some really good classes having a limited time course sale

That's how both of you end up in a guided painting class, seated next to each other with aprons on and a pallet to mix paint tubes in. You'll find out how much of a fast learner Moblit is, so much that most of the class he spends guiding your hand through the steps and offering his help whenever possible, although he still remembers not to be overbearing and still gives you space.

Both of you are in your own bubble from the class, being with him makes you feel easy and more reassured. He's like your very own comfort corner that you seek in every party, except that he can walk around with you and always looks out for you.

And whatever you end up putting on that canvas, Moblit will cherish more than any renaissance painting, will even insist on hanging it somewhere in the apartment.

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