#Life Orientation Instructor

[itskimhill]

LIFO (Life Orientations) helps identify our strengths, based on the behavioral preference of how to think, how to get things done, and how to deliver information.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Help complete the poem:

"I bear a heavy somethingnothing others seem to lack, they drift and frolic freely, no weight dragging at their backs. I keep with me my somethingnothing, nurturing the rot, as somethingnothing is my bones, it cannot be forgot. I long, I yearn, I try to swim, alas I never float, for there it is, the somethingnothing, tugging at my throat. Somedays I fear my somethingnothing is the whole of me, (now you pick the final line from choices below)

(context: In the game I'm making one of the characters you can talk to is some moody nervous exiled prince and in one quest you can help him with his writer's block on some of his poetry. This is one of the 'poems' (+ menu choice prompts) that I decided not to use in the game, but I thought it was kind of amusing on it's own and might would be fun to see the votes on)

[foldingfittedsheets]

For their birthday I’m taking my betrothed @aorryn47 to forge a knife. There’s classes at a forge not too far from us and we’re gonna make a knife out of rebar. Got a bunch of friends to go and do it together.

I fully expect my knife will be so garbage but I’m terribly excited to make it anyway. (Theirs will probably be quite nice).

[chrollohearttags]

makeup artist!armin…that is all 🫠

📝: black fem hairstylist!reader, friends to lovers, fluff to smut, praise, he’s also bi, alcohol use, switch!armin, choking, finger sucking, oral (a eating) missionary, cumshot, calls reader babe and my love

🎙️: I’m trying out something a lil’ different and trying to actually make my drabbles short so I hope y’all like it. Also I know like 3 of you might actually see this tonight but posting anyways bc I’m bored

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you never thought you’d see makeup artist!armin ever again..in the flesh at least. It’d been three years since you, him and twenty other attendees of one of the country’s most elite cosmetology schools had graduated as licensed beauticians. A majority of you had gone on to do extraordinary things with your newfound certifications…some working for prestigious salons, others starting their own businesses and continuing ones they were running illegally. But you and Armin? Leagues all on your own! Of course, the same could have been said when you were in school together. Seemingly attached at the hip and matching in both skills and wit. makeup artist!armin was naturally the talk among the class. The only male in a room full of gorgeous girls…chatting and keeping up with the conversations as if he were one of you. Offering advice on boyfriends and husbands, reciting the lyrics to every female rap song that played from the salon floor’s speakers as you all practiced balayage and full sets whilst the instructor watched. makeup artist!armin was a natural..able to analyze a face and turn anyone into the most beautiful version of themselves. Of course, it left much speculation on his orientation but when the question arose, his response was: “I like what I like, that’s all.”

with his fluffy blonde locks, warm blue eyes, scattered tattoos, including the pieces on his neck and hands…fingernails always donned with nail polish and sporting jewelry of some form, he was a dream. But it was him who was enamored with (y/n)..his girl to anyone who asked. Something you always figured to be a lighthearted inside joke, considering the number of empty, flirtatious passes you made at one another. Pretending to kiss, even allowing him to grasp your throat in the process because he’d only follow it up with some effeminate remark before you both broke into a laugh. “Armin moveee, you play too much.” “Babeee, c’mere. You didn’t have a problem last night. Why are you being mean to me?” But makeup artist!armin wasn’t interested in playing games anymore..especially when he saw you all over Instagram, going viral for your amazing work. Laying wigs, coloring, finger waves, silk presses..the works. You were the best of the best and people were dying to get a seat in your chair. Including an influencer with tons of followers and the money to burn, looking to get done up by the city’s finest for a club appearance. What you didn’t expect was the person traipsing behind her to be makeup artist!armin..looking even better than he had before!

“It’s been a while, my love. How are you? I see you look sexy as always.”

Hugging instantly as the excitement over took the both of you. makeup artist!armin couldn’t keep his eyes off of you as you styled the influencer’s hair, watching you two laugh and chop it up..joining in on the fun occasionally. Turns out he had been working with some notorious clientele, using his talents to earn quite a pretty penny and make a name for himself in the beauty sector. But the real conversation wasn’t done until after hours…when he’d finish up with your guest and you were closing up shop. The two of you would down some of the leftover shots you had with the client as part of her pregame whilst he decided to give you a complementary beat for old times sake…

talking about life and what it had been like since you left the academy. Divulging in juicy gossip about friends and old peers alike, work and what it was like having your entire catalogue on display for social media. Of course, what makeup artist!armin and yourself truly wanted to know was if there was a special someone around..

“Me? Nah, me and my ex been done. I don’t have time for dating..the money is my only love nowadays.”

“I feel that. All I do is work and go home.”

but he was hoping to change that last sentiment. Dressed in his black button down and slit jeans with silver bands on his fingers..he’d turn your face towards him as the guise of brushing on your highlight

“Y’know I really missed this, (y/n). I’ve been watching you and I’m so proud of what you’ve done. You’ve worked hard.” “Thank you, Armin..you’re always so sweet.” “Well duh, I’ve already told you, you’re my girl..”

makeup artist!armin couldn’t hold back any longer…bridging the gap of space between you two as the bright lights hung overhead. He'd confess that he’d thought about you everyday and wished that the two of you had kept contact. It was as if all of the sexual tension and feelings that the two of you had been harboring were just seconds from spilling over. Which only in turn led to you moving to the back of your salon, lips crashing together and tongues shoved into each other’s mouth as he mounted you onto a nearby countertop. Completely forgetting his masterpiece he’d painted on your face.

“Arminnn..”

“Shhh..it’s okay, babe. I know..you don’t have to tell me. I know you better than anyone.”

a statement that rang true when he’d pull you into a kiss yet again and clutch your throat as he’d done in a joking manner many times before. A movement they elicited a smile from you both.

“You still like that, huh? So nasty..”

“You said it..you know me better than anyone, baby.”

from your lips to your neck, he’d mark you with pecks, licking and nibbling at your ear as he whispered lecherous things; from how good you looked in the bodycon dress you were wearing to how he needed to hold it up while pounding you from the back..

“Mmmm..see, there you go playing wit’ me.”

“Spread your legs for me, baby and you’ll see how much I’m joking..”

leaving you with a heavy pat to the ass as he scooped you into his grasp and parted your thick thighs. Obviously much more fit than he was when you’d last saw him. makeup artist!armin tugged down the top of your dress, exposing your breasts as he planted a hand into your tummy..peeling your panties back with his teeth before diving into that dripping center. Wasting no time in lapping on your clit, gliding a finger or two in and sucking on your folds as if it were his first meal in months. He certainly was no stranger to eating pussy..regardless of everyone’s opinions on his sexuality!

“F-fuckkkk..Arminnn..” Pushing his head and shoulders back whilst still grinding on his mouth.

“I’m sorry, babe. What is it that you want? Because you’re realllly confusing me..do you want me to stop..or should I keep eating this little pussy until you come all over my face?” Laughing as he spat into your entrance and continued lapping. (Y/N)’s legs began to quiver, breath shallow and chest heaving as your eyes rolled back..you’d never felt anything remotely euphoric as this. He knew each of your spots, what made you tick and how to pleasure you. He navigated your body as well as an eyeshadow palette and like always, he wasn’t done until he was satisfied..

“Awww, babyy—don’t cry. I know it feels good but you’re gonna ruin your pretty makeup. Here..suck on my fingers.” That soft yet dominant taking over as he shoved two digits in your mouth. What followed was a trail of saliva and his tongue breaching your puckering lower entrance. Which nearly caused you to shoot through the roof.

“Look at that..now I’m in all your pretty holes, babe..I’ve waited so long to do this. Fuck..you taste amazing.”

you’d whimper and writhe around, grasping at the marble counters as that orgasm neared..he’d push those fingers in and out until splatters of warm juices hit his chin. “Sorry, my love..I hate to stop you but—” unbeknownst, he had been stroking himself through his boxers and was ready to let you get the real thing.

“If you want to come anymore, it’ll be on this dick. I really need to fuck you.” His voice was much deeper than before and you didn’t hesitate to let him inside. Pinning your legs back to the vanity, makeup artist!armin tapped that head and shaft against your folds before gently gliding in, keeping your eyes fixated on each other with his hand still around your neck. That fat cock splitting open your wet folds.

“Shit…your pussy’s so warm, babe. God, why’d you keep this from me?” But you were too in awe to answer..completely stuck on how big he was and how well he wielded it. Slowly stroking and rubbing your clit with the opposite hand. You were fixated on his gaze and sweet words, listening to him to praise you whilst he resided balls deep inside of you.

“Oh my gosh….’s so fucking big. Fucking me so good..” whimpering and barely able to fork coherent sentences. makeup artist!armin would chuckle softly as he watched it slide in and out, the bulge appearing when he sped up. “Damn, babe. I love this look on you…but I love even more how I look inside of you.” Pounding you into the vanity with his lips melded to yours.

“Ahhhh…yes, baby! Right there..’m gonna come.”

“I told you, if you want to, it’s gotta be on me.” makeup artist!armin would continue thrusting until he drew more splashes out of that cunt, making you squirt all over his torso and the countertop. It wasn’t long until he too was reaching his own climatic peak, burrowed over you with his face buried into the crook of your neck as he called out your name..whining about how badly he missed you.

“Oh God I missed you..I missed you so bad. Can I come for you, my love? Please? I’ve been so good..I waited all this time just for you..”

and it was no question that you’d welcome it..waiting patiently as he pulled out of you reluctantly. He’d spray those thick ropes of cum all over your tummy and even catch your face..

makeup artist!armin reveled in his latest and most prized creation yet. Laughing as those fluffy lashes swatted off remnants of his seed..droplets staining the glossy nude lip he’d just finished.

“I need a kiss after that. C’mere..” “Yeah, I agree.”

makeup artist!armin had long since dreamed of what he’d say and do once you guys reconnected. He was nervous, afraid that you’d reject his feelings but it was no longer a secret. That mounting love that had been festering inside of you both had exploded into a blaze of passion that couldn’t be extinguished any time soon. And now that he was back in your life, you’d never be apart again.

[squoxle]

[4] IMU - L. HS

...internet!bf!heeseung x long!distance!gf...

plot: after a long day, you have phone sex with your long-distance boyfriend, Heeseung. | wc: 3.5k | cw: lots of dialogue, pet names, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, smut, slight angst (typical bf x gf stuff)

"Good morning, baby," you picked up your phone to see a text from your boyfriend.

You promptly responded with a simple "Good morning" and a red heart emoji.

You and Heeseung first met about 2 years ago in a discord server. You were both obsessed with a very popular pvp shooting game. Interestingly enough, you played as a male character and he played as a female character.

You thought back to the first time you two turned on your mics and how you were both shocked to hear each other’s voices.

To be fair, you both just assumed that the character you used had the same gender orientation as the person playing. Obviously, you were wrong.

Anyways, it wasn't until last year around October when he first asked you to be his girlfriend. Nothing too corny. He just said that he'd liked you for a long time and he figured if you were an awesome friend, that you'd be an even better girlfriend.

You'd never met in person before, but it's always been your dream...

Distance may have kept you apart physically, but your hearts connected you emotionally.

Most of your days went the same.

Wake up.

Text your boyfriend.

Eat breakfast.

Get ready for school.

Eat a snack.

Go home, and eat again, before winding down around 11 o'clock to text your boyfriend until 2am.

You were a full-time student at a four-year university about an hour from your parent's house. You were there on scholarship money, so finances weren't a big priority for you. You live a short walk from the main campus and shared an apartment with your roommate.

You met her at the beginning of your freshman year when you were staying in a dorm at the time. You both agreed that dorm life sucked and decided to move in together. She usually went out with her girlfriend on Friday and, on special occasions, she'd even spend the night with her. This was the perfect opportunity for you and Heeseung to do a little mutual masturbation.

Your friend is confident in the idea that Heeseung is either catfishing you, he's an AI robot, or completely made up. Even though you've tried to show her proof, confirmation bias made her about as stubborn as a bull.

You plopped down at a desk closest to the door, slinging your backpack off your shoulder before placing it between your legs, it was always easier to leave when you sat here. And it was a lot less awkward than sitting in your seat, watching everyone leave before you all so you wouldn't get squished between the door frame and another student.

What made it even worse was when your professor would decide to ask you a series of questions about your classroom experience. Not that you had a problem answering that question, you knew it was only asked to see where they needed to improve. Still, sitting by the door was your safe space.

As the voice of your instructor faded away, you thought back to the dream you had last night. Yes, it was unrealistic and a little stupid, but that's what a dream was. 90 percent of the time dreams never made sense, but every now and then a few parts stuck with you. And sometimes remnants of them would dangle between your eyes at random points of the day.

Kind of like right now.

The dream was nothing too wild aside from the fact that you were able to physically touch your boyfriend. It was the one thing you've always wanted. But with your busy lives that seemed impossible. You were a full-time student, and he was one too, but going to school and working simultaneously isn't easy for anyone.

You were snatched out of your headspace by a loud sneeze. A lot of kids on campus were enduring seasonal allergies this weeks and you had to make sure you stayed on top of your health.

After the class was over, you texted your boyfriend to pass the time.

“Hey” you texted. One thing that made this relationship a lot easier was the amount of communication. He knew your class schedule and you knew his work AND class schedule.

Luckily the job he was working was very understanding of his living situation. So for the two days a week that he had to be on campus he was given a day off in between. “Hey, wyd” he replied.

“Waiting for my next class.”

“Did you eat lunch yet?”

“No, I’m not really hungry.”

“Okay, well just make sure you don’t forget to eat.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t. Right now I’m probably gonna go get some coffee and study for a bit.”

“Hmm, coffee sounds pretty good right about now.”

“I know right. Too bad you don’t have a coffee shop nearby.”

“Yeah, at my old job coffee was just a 5 minute walk away. Now it’s more like a 30 minute walk…I definitely can’t manage that during my break.”

“I wish I could see you right now,” you knew saying this was pretty random, but you haven’t been able to stop thinking about him all day. And texting him right now just made you miss him more.

“Me too, babe.”

“Like imagine if I could come see you right now while you’re on break.”

“Yeah that would be pretty awesome…”

“What’s wrong?”

“Now I miss you lol.”

“Did you wanna call for a bit?”

“Can’t. I gotta get back to my shift…”

“I thought you were on break.”

“Today’s really busy and I’m covering someone else’s shift.”

“Oh…”

“Sorry…I’ll try to call you tonight though, okay?”

“Okay. See ya.”

“Love you.”

“I love you too.”

You sighed before tucking your phone away in your back pocket. It was times like this that made a long distance relationship feel impossible.

You readjusted your backpack on your shoulder as you walked to the cafe. You were just gonna get your coffee and head to the library. As much as you’d love to be surrounded by the addictive scent of strong black coffee, sweet cream, and vanilla, the cafe was noisy most of the time.

“Hey,” your friend waved. She worked part time at the cafe. According to her, it’s a lot easier working this job than anywhere else. She lived a short 13 minute walk away from campus, so staying local, especially without a car, was her best bet.

Sometimes you wished she could just move in with you and your other roommate.

“Hey,” you smiled as you approached the counter.

“What’ll it be for you today, girlie? Are we feeling cocoa or caramel~” she flailed her hand in a circular motion.

“Hmm…how about you surprise me,” you suggested.

“Last time you told me that I gave you a seven dollar cup of iced water,” she chuckled. “Are you sure you wanna be surprised?”

“Oh, yeah. You’re right,” you smiled thinking back to the day that happened. “I’ll go for caramel, with a little of those toffee bits.”

“Alright, and did you want any chocolate syrup on top of that?”

“No—y’know what? Actually, yeah I’ll take some.”

“I knew you would,” she smiled. “Double shot of espresso and extra whip too?”

“Yes, please,” you smiled.

“I’m on it, and, just because I love you, that’ll be a friendly free ninety-nine.”

“No way, I already know this is gonna come straight out of your check.”

“Psh, I don’t care. You need this right now. Trust me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can see it all over your face. Something has you upset.”

“Well it’s just—nothing…”

“It’s okay you don’t have to tell me. As much as I’d really love to know, I respect you,” she smiled, giving you a gentle nod.

“Thanks,” you sighed.

“No problem, I’ll have your drink out in about 5 to 10 minutes.”

“Okay.”

“Butttt if you do change your mind and you feel like talking about it, you know how to reach me,” she winked.

You plopped down at one of the small, two-seater, round tables while you waited for your drink. You tilted your head to the side, bracing your cheek against your shoulder and the sound of the blender whirring faded into the background.

Yes, you love your boyfriend, but a relationship like this wasn’t easy. Still, nothing scared you more than the thought of losing him. You pulled out your phone to scroll through your old messages together. It had been a while since you did anything together. About 4 months at this point.

He’s just been so busy lately that staying up late to watch a movie over video chat with you would make waking up for work that much harder. Something in you wanted to cry. Not because you weren’t happy with him, but because you weren’t happy with the way your relationship was. Of course he made you happy but the lack of physical touch was really missing from your relationship.

“Here ya go,” the warmth from your friends smile was comforting, for a moment you stared at her, desiring this same closeness with Heeseung.

“Thanks,” you smiled gently. She placed the drink on the table before leaning over to give you a side hug.

“You looked like you needed one of those,” she smiled after pulling away. “Remember you can talk to me, okay?”

You nodded your head as she finished her sentence. “Don’t forget that,” she titled her head to the side as you stood up, pushing your chair in.

“I won’t,” you hummed before walking to the library to study.

By the time you made it home, the sun had already set. You took your time getting home, honestly because you knew it was impossible to keep your mind busy there.

“Heyyyy~” your roommate sang as you walked through the door.

“Hey,” you smiled. You had never been so happy to see her face. Hanging out with her would definitely keep Heeseung off your mind.

You kicked your shoes off at the door, heading straight over to the couch. You say on the arm of the sofa as your roommate scrolled through movies.

“Were you about to watch something?” You asked.

“Umm actually no. I was just about to turn the TV off.”

“Really?”

“Yep. I’m going out with Mia tonight.”

“Oh…”

“Today’s Friday. We go out the same day every week,” she giggled. “I’m sure your imaginary boyfriend will keep you company,” she teased before hopping off the couch and walking down the hall.

She was right…and it wasn’t long before she walked right out the door you came through.

The apartment had never felt so empty, like it did right now. Your mind had been beating the hell out of you recently.

You wanted—more than anything—to be with Heeseung. You would see couples holding hands around your campus and you desired that closeness. That element of physical touch was the only thing missing from your relationship.

Always hoping for one day, but craving today.

You took a quick shower before climbing in your bed. At least you could be sure that you could talk to him tonight.

You were in the middle of a documentary you had to watch for class when you get your phone buzzing from underneath your pillow.

“Hey, baby,” you could hear the smile in his voice. It was moments like this that it felt like he was right next to you.

“Hey,” you smiled back. “How was work?”

“Surprisingly it was very busy, at least I earned some pretty big tips.”

“That’s good. So what are you doing now,” you could hear the wind blowing in the background, but you were unsure if he was just getting off or headed inside.

“I’m walking inside my apartment right now. Anyways, how was your day,” you listened as the keys jingled in his hands as he unlocked the door.

“It was good.”

“Did you get your coffee?”

“Yeah. Reina actually gave it to me for free.”

“Really? Why?”

“She said I looked like I needed it.”

“Well you know what I need right now?”

You rolled over in your bed switching off the TV before plopping your head on the pillow, “What?”

“You,” you smiled hearing him say that. Even though it was just one word, it was exactly what you needed to hear right now.

“I really missed you today,” you said softly.

“I missed you too,” he hummed. “I’m gonna shower real quick before I get in my bed…I smell like sweat,” he chuckled under his breath. “I’m just gonna put you on speaker while I’m in the shower, okay?”

“Okay,” you nodded, readjusting yourself in the bed.

The sound of your covers shuffling echoed in his room as you heard the water start running. "I would ask if you wanted to watch, but I'm gonna be pretty fast today, so that would be a waste," you listened as the shower curtain slid open.

Just like he told you, that was a quick shower. No more than 5 minutes had passed before you heard the water shut off.

"Are you still awake?" he asked, ruffling his hair with the towel.

"Yeah, I'm still here."

"Okay, good because I'm gonna need your help with something."

"What do you mean?"

"I've been thinking about you all day."

"Oh really? What were you thinking about?"

"Coming home and seeing you laying in my bed wearing nothing but one of my shirts and a pair of panties that hugged your ass just right," he chuckled.

"Hmm and what would you do if you came home and saw me dressed like that?"

"D'you really wanna know?"

"Yeah," you hummed.

"If I came home and saw you like that, I'd press your body against the mattress and you'd lay there looking at me with those pretty eyes."

"And then?"

"And then, I'd lean in and whisper into your ear, I miss you," his voice sounded smoother than silk as he whispered into the phone.

"After that, I'd kiss your neck while I reach my hand under your shirt and cup your tit in my hand. I'd feel your legs wrap around my waist as I got harder and harder for you."

Listening to him talk to you like this was turning you on more than you expected. You felt the heat rushing through your body as he continued to describe his fantasy to you.

You reached your hand between your legs as every word he said played like a movie in your head.

"You'd feel my dick pressing hard against your pussy. I'd be so excited that you'd feel me throbbing through your panties. And your wetness would seep through, making me want you even more."

Your fingers circled your clit as the phone laid beside you. Your breath staggered slightly as you felt your juices dripping between your folds.

"Then I'd pull your shirt up, exposing your tits and you'd run your fingers through my hair as I sucked on your tits."

Even though you were trying your best to be quiet, a soft moan escaped your lips.

"Baby?" Heeseung called out as you immediately stopped. Feeling slightly embarrassed, you didn't even want to speak. "Are you touching yourself?"

"I-I...yes...sorry," you didn't want to lie to him, so you told the mortifying truth.

"It's okay, baby. You don't have to apologize. If I was there, I'd make sure you felt good. Even if that meant I had to please you all night. To be honest, I kinda wanna jerk off too," he chuckled. "Thinking about this just makes me really horny."

"Yeah, me too," you smiled. "Wait. Are you in the bed yet?"

"No, not yet. I'm still standing in the bathroom. I wish you could see how hard my dick is right now."

"I mean...you could always show me."

"Well, I don't want to be the only one with my camera on."

"I'll turn mine on too. Just let me go lock my door. I definitely wouldn't want my roommate to walk in on me."

"Is she there?"

"No, she's out right now. I'm doing it just in case she comes back," you climbed out of bed, locking the door before plugging your hanging light in. They were just bright enough for him to see everything, but not too bright.

"Oh, okay. I understand that," Heeseung switched on his camera. You loved seeing him like this. His hair was just wet enough to dangle in his eyes. "Sorry, my hair's a mess," he apologized, as he tried to comb his hair down with his fingers.

"You look cute," you smiled before turning on your camera.

"So do you," he smiled back. "I just can't stop wondering how you'd look with your lips wrapped around my dick," he smirked.

"Speaking of your dick," you hummed. "Isn't that the reason my camera is on in the first place?"

"Oh, I didn't forget," he smiled before tapping his screen.

He was shirtless, only wearing a pair of boxers. His bulge nearly pushed completely through the fabric.

"Oh...wow," you watched as his dick twitched from your reaction.

He gripped it through his pants as he continued the story from earlier. "I really wish you were here right now," he hummed.

"Me too," you bit your lip.

"You'd look so fucking hot between my legs, just sucking me off like a good girl," he cooed as he rubbed himself through his boxers.

The sound of his voice was already enough to turn you on, but getting to watch him touch himself was even sexier.

You reached your hand between your legs again as he kept talking. "Mmm, just the thought of hearing your sweet moans is enough to make me finish right now," he sucked his breath in.

"I would love to feel you stretching me open while you talk to me like this," you hummed. "Just telling me how much you love me and what you want to do to me...ngh," you groaned softly.

"Mmm fuck, baby," he groaned. "You sound so fucking sexy," you watched as he pulled his dick through the opening in his boxers. "I'd love to feel your pussy tightening around my dick as I fuck you."

You finger fucked yourself a little faster now, seeing his dick made you want him more, and watching your face contort from pleasure was enough to make him cum right there. But he wanted to enjoy this moment with you. He wanted you to finish first, and he wanted to make sure you felt just as good as he did.

"Mmm, you sound so wet," you listened as he took in a deep breath before spitting on his dick. "I wish I was there to fuck your sloppy cunt while I fill you with my cum," you moaned as he picked up the speed of his strokes.

"Heeseung...ah," you moaned.

"That's it, baby. Keep fucking yourself for me. I wanna hear those pretty little moans," he winced as he felt himself about to finish, slowing down just enough to stop himself from cumming without you.

At this point, you couldn't manage to say anything but his name. You dropped the phone between your legs, giving him a clear look at the way you played with your pussy. You watched as he sped up from looking at you pleasure yourself.

"Fuck! Fuck!" he swore as he pumped his dick harder and faster. A bit of precum dripped from his tip which made you squirt a bit, knowing just how excited you made him. You moaned a little louder as you came closer to finishing yourself.

"Fuck, I'm gonna fucking cum," you cooed.

"Do it, baby. I wanna see you cum for me," he groaned.

You were moaning beyond control at this point as your chest heaved up and down. You felt your heartbeat pumping in your chest as you circled your clit, feeling every sensation overtake your body as you came hard.

Your breathing slowed down as he let himself finish soon after you. You watched as his release dripped down his fingers. "Mmm, thank you, baby," he hummed.

"For what?"

"For everything. You're just so fucking perfect," he flipped the camera back around to face him. His face was still a bit flushed from finishing not too long ago.

"I'm not perfect," you hummed.

"I think you are. I wish I was there to say that to you in person while I wrap my arms around you and kiss you on the forehead."

"Well, I'll keep imagining it until one day it really happens," you smiled.

"I love you," he titled his head to the side before sliding down onto the pillow.

"I love you too," you smiled before laying down on your pillow too.

The two of you exchanged a few more words before the sound of Heeseung's gentle, rhythmic breathing let you know that he had fallen asleep.

Your phone was lying beside you facing the ceiling so you didn't see his sleeping face until you turned over to pick up your phone. "Good night," you whispered softly as you pulled the phone to your chest.

You couldn't remember when you fell asleep, but the first thing you heard when you finally woke up was the sound of your boyfriend's sweet morning voice as his eyes fluttered open.

"Good morning, baby," he smiled.

𝒦𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓉𝑜𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

❀ Thank you all so much for reading! Make sure to check out other works on my masterlist!

@chlorinecake

@wonbinisbabygurl

@nishiimuranights

@wildflowermooon

@heeseungshim

@ramyeonzprincess

@bangchans-gf5

@wand3rlustm3

@heeseunghee7

@norihoyeon

@gacktsa

[pmpmyread]

CW: mature themes, smut, MDNI Pairing: Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader Summary: It was such a soft radiance that highlighted the contours of his forearm, well-defined and solid—like someone who didn’t need to prove anything. When he picked up his pen, twirling it once in his fingers before he began tackling the preliminary portion of his report, Nanami did it effortlessly, as if all of this was nothing. Not knowing that to you, it would become everything. OR Five times you manage to stave off the urge to act upon your fascination with Nanami Kento's most alluring physical feature, and the one time you don't. Also on AO3

It really didn’t have to come to this.

It’s the first coherent thought that crosses your mind as you draw your legs up from where they slung off the sides of the low couch. You push against your feet, the cool leather a welcome relief against your heated skin as you scoot further up the smooth surface. The distinctive flick of the light switch reverberates down the hallway, and a faint glow illuminates the ceiling above you, bringing the skip-trowel texture composing it into focus. Your eyes follow where the light catches the amalgamation of ridges and valleys, as your breath finally evens down from its rapid rhythm.

The unique sound of a kitchen cupboard closing shut pulls you from your daze. The slow thud of approaching footsteps on polished hardwood follows it, resonating in the dim, quiet space. You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and you fail to stifle the soft chuckle that bubbles up within you, a laugh at your own expense as the absurdity of the situation washes over you.

Because it does dawn upon you now, the silliness of it all. All of this time, all of the mental energy poured into holding onto a secret with a declining half-life, only to have your efforts inevitably undone. 

Only now, in the clarity granted by hindsight, does your mind flit to a memory as clear as day, back to several months prior, when the catalyzing encounter of the saga that eventually led to this moment that brought you to uncover a new facet of Nanami’s desires and to confront the particularities of your own.

“I don’t know, Ino… Maybe you should hold off on the more demanding missions for a bit. Isn’t this your third injury in just as many weeks?” you asked as you offered the younger sorcerer the energy bar you’d just unwrapped for him.

“And risk missing out on some field practice? Hell no!” Ino replied indignantly. “I’m only Grade 2 on paper, you know this. This is a minor setback, no big deal!” He tapped his cast for emphasis and nearly dropped the bar he’d seemingly forgot he was holding in the process, just barely catching it with his mouth before it fell to his lap. You could only shake your head as you watched the goofy scene unfold.

The past few weeks had seen a relentless surge of curse-related activity as the Tokyo metropolitan area entered what was typically its most hectic time of year. This time around, the busy season had resulted in every active sorcerer effectively forced to work on-call as they were assigned to successive missions which, more often than not, stretched the boundaries of their capabilities. You’d witnessed it yourself, as a Grade 2 instructor assigned to quite a few field missions that increasingly erred on the higher side of your experience level.

You’d had your start as an instructor at Jujutsu Tech at the same time Ino joined, first meeting at orientation, and over time, you’d grown to know and appreciate him like a younger brother. While his tenacity was usually admirable, it also worried you at times, particularly recently. He’d been pushing himself, even going as far as volunteering for the type of missions that would result in his current predicament: sitting in one of Shoko’s examination rooms with a broken arm freshly wrapped in a cast, awaiting his next round of RCT treatment.

“Besides,” he continued, “I was assigned with Nanami-san, and when I tell you that you would’ve loved to see him in action today,” he said, his tone tinged with a not-so-subtle playful lilt that did not escape you. “He kicked some serious fucking ass out there and I bet you would’ve—”

A heavy, exasperated sigh emanated from the entrance behind you.

“Ino, your energy would be better spent focusing on recalling facts rather than on the retelling of hyperbolic stories.”

The interjection came as a distinctively calm voice, one carrying a uniquely measured cadence, and did not require you to turn around to identify who it belonged to.

You shot Ino a warning look as you both watched Nanami Kento cross the few strides that took him to the opposing side of the infirmary bed. He dropped a thin stack of papers onto the examination room counter before his eyes met yours, a smile and a wordless greeting passing between you as his head slightly dipped in a respectful bow. You responded with a nod of your own, as you tried to mentally downplay the soothing wave of warmth that washed over you.

You were still slowly being acquainted with Nanami, who had recently made his return to the school, mostly via common interactions with his protégé, much like the one you were having now. Theirs was a bond you’d watched form and grow in real-time, largely thanks to Ino’s incessant updates.

But you’d also made observations of your own, taking notice of some unique and understated traits that only further piqued your curiosity about the man dubbed the 7:3 sorcerer.

As a teacher yourself, you’d been particularly sensitive to his affinity for mentorship with students and established sorcerers alike. They were the kind of observations that made you wonder about the specifics of what had made him leave in the first place, and even more curiously, about what had compelled him to return.

There was also something just so singular about how Nanami conducted himself. His was an even-tempered presence, bearing a quiet confidence that made him such a steady and welcome counterbalance to the otherwise frenetic atmosphere at the school. It simply made him such a pleasant person to be around, and lately, it was more often than not that you’d catch yourself, as you did in this moment, stealing fleeting glances at him as he draped the tan-colored suit jacket he’d been carrying over the examination chair before taking a seat.

“Pfft. What hyperbolics?” Ino’s mouth stretched into a wide grin as he turned away from Nanami and back towards you. “You truly should have seen it! Five hefty curses cornered Nanami-san, and he had to find a way to…”

And that’s when it first happened.

You’d glanced over just in time to catch sight of Nanami using his left hand to skillfully undo the cuff of his right sleeve, folding it neatly over itself until it reached his elbow, gradually revealing the perfectly toned arm underneath. By the time he was repeating the process on his other arm, the quiet precision of his movements and the hypnotic rhythm of controlled and focused intent had you completely spellbound. 

Though innocuous in its practical purpose, the act held such an airy allure, one you thought couldn’t possibly be solely attributed to the overhead halogen lighting. It was such a soft radiance that highlighted the contours of his forearm, well-defined and solid, like someone who didn’t need to prove anything. When he picked up his pen, twirling it once in his fingers before he began tackling the preliminary portion of his report, Nanami did it effortlessly, as if all of this was nothing.

Not knowing that to you, it would become everything.

It hadn’t even registered with you yet at the time; the extent to which one too many furtive glances had been enough for a seed to take root in your heart, its insidious vines coiling around your unsuspecting mind.

“Hey, are you even listening?” Ino’s sudden, rambunctious voice, along with the lamenting intonation it carried, pulled you back to reality.

Only now did you realize that you’d decidedly relegated Ino’s voice to the background, prompting you to return your attention to him, but not before catching the fleeting upward curve of Nanami’s eyebrow along with the hint of curiosity discernible even through his near opaque lenses as he raised his head, his eyes meeting yours for the briefest of moments.

Agitation coursed through you by the time you turned to Ino, as you quickly processed the embarrassing fact that his loud comment might have exposed your moment of indiscreet inattention.

“I am listening, Ino, if only because you are speaking entirely too loudly for me to do otherwise,” you said, your words strained by the anxious tightening of your jaw. 

You thought you’d detected a light scoff emanating from Nanami, so subtle, so nearly imperceptible that you wondered if you’d imagined it. You didn’t dare look his way to confirm it.

“Fine!” huffed Ino. “Then you can read about it in my report, just like everyone else! Oh, speaking of which, Nanami-san graciously offered to fill it in for me, you know, since my good arm is out of commission! Isn’t he the best?”

Nanami cleared his throat before intervening. “Ino, I’m rather keen on leaving on time today, so please, let’s focus on this?”

You took this as your cue to exit what could only become an increasingly compromising situation for you, keen on avoiding any further embarrassing displays of distraction.

“I’ll leave you two to it. I have an assignment of my own for which I should be preparing… Ino, please do the reasonable thing for once in your life and try to get some real rest, will you?”

You trained your eyes on the exit door as you headed towards it, determined to resist the urge to get distracted again, a flimsy plan that failed as soon as you realized where you’d left your phone.

On the counter.

Next to Nanami.

You took a deep breath to steady your nerves before you made your way around the bed and quietly retrieved your device from the counter, hoping that Nanami’s focus would remain on the report he was so diligently filling—a prayer that was only half fulfilled.

“Kawasaki City?” he asked, his voice coming unexpectedly, gently, and you were grateful that his eyes did not immediately leave his report, because you simply could not prevent yours from surreptitiously glancing over to catch one final glimpse at the hand that gripped his pen, at the way the light caught the fine hairs on his forearm.

You didn’t realize how long a silent pause had elapsed until Nanami halted his scribbling and lifted his head, curious eyes peering at you over the rims of his signature goggles. You quickly made a mental migration back to his question, your distracted mind only now registering that he was inquiring about your assignment.

“Ah yes, that’s the one… The zone’s been mostly cleared now, but they’ve assigned a small squad of us to do one final sweep before sending in the cleanup crew.”

“I see,” he said, pausing briefly. “Good luck, and be careful out there.” Sparse words heavy with sincerity.

“Thank you, Nanami.” Your reply came out meeker than you’d liked, something you cringed at internally before you grabbed your phone and finally shuffled towards the exit and out of the room.

“Ino—” Nanami started, eyes still on the door, warning already well-laced within those two syllables.

“Nanami-san. All due respect,” Ino cut in, not even pretending to attempt to conceal his self-satisfied grin, “but you’ve got to let me cook. Can’t you see I’m trying to talk you up? At this point, you’re just getting the way!” His lament was carelessly loud enough to be audible from the corner you’d just turned into the hall.

But hear it you did not, as you were too preoccupied with a conundrum of your own, the one consisting both of taming the small flame that had ignited within you and of fighting off the vivid imagery along with its significantly less tame derivatives that lingered and threatened to slink into your mind. The ones that would mark the first instances of perceiving Grade 1 sorcerer Nanami Kento in a decidedly different light.

Weeks later, the shortage of level-matched sorcerers required to meet the moment of this prolonged crisis remained persistent, resulting in teams and assignments being in a perpetual state of flux. Amidst this chaotic reshuffling, you found yourself paired with Nanami on a mission for the very first time. Some part of you briefly wondered which stars must have aligned to favor these auspicious circumstances before you decided against putting a question mark where fate had placed a period.

Today’s mission found you both on this sunny early afternoon, tasked with ridding a shrine of several cursed spirits who were intent on disrupting the area during its peak season and on terrorizing its poor visitors.

It was an assignment that quickly revealed itself to be a test of endurance rather than strength; numerous hordes of low-level curses had congregated around each of the seven entrances, six of which you’d spent the better part of the morning purging of their unwelcome intruders. In a bid to optimize energy and recovery, you’d suggested that you alternate turns exorcising the swarms, a strategy that now found the two of you hiding behind each of the two opposing pillars of the gate that marked the final entrance left to clear.

It was your turn to take on this next wave of curses, and by now, the searing soreness of strained muscles you’d rarely ever asked so much of had become difficult to ignore. Using the tip of the spear that comprised your cursed tool, you steadied yourself on shaky legs that you could almost hear screaming in protest, as you remained determined to conceal any sign of struggle and to see this final stretch through.

“Are you alright?” You heard Nanami call out from the opposing pillar, his tone edged with genuine concern.

God, this is embarrassing, you thought to yourself and could only nod at him, refusing to speak just yet for fear of betraying the shakiness in your voice, avoiding eye contact lest any evidence of your growing weariness become apparent.

Target focus, target focus, you repeated to yourself, like a mantra, as you steadied your trembling hands, turning your attention towards the horde of curses approaching on the horizon. If you could just manage to reach that first target, land that first blow, and chain it to activate your technique, the rest of the combat sequence would fall into place.

“Stay put, I’ve got this,” Nanami said as he suddenly left his post, crossing the distance between himself and the oncoming swarm in a few long strides before you could process, let alone protest what was happening.

You leaned onto your spear, repositioning yourself to face the sorcerer, just in time to watch him tighten his wrapped tie around his right hand and to witness the surge of cursed energy as it lit up his fist before he landed a decisive blow onto the first curse, staggering it and knocking it into the line of curses who’d blindly followed close behind. You watched as Nanami landed rapid, precise 7:3 blows with swift, successive slashes of his blade, only now realizing that this was your first earnest look at him in the heat of the battle.

And what a sight it was.

One right hook.

Two left slashes.

Repeat.

He set out with a slow rhythm, a cadenced dance of contained destruction and speedy precision. There was a controlled fury in his movements, a certain juxtaposition of sheer strength and disciplined composure, ridges of forearm muscles moving rhythmically as he landed one incisive blow after the other. As the density of the oncoming horde increased, so did Nanami’s tempo, so much so that for a brief moment, your fatigued eyes struggled to track his rapid movements.

The 7:3 sorcerer had decidedly entered a state of flow, seemingly unfazed by the volume of curses that threw themselves at him in a last-ditch effort to hold down the last fort of their invasion, forming the linchpin separating them from their assured demise.

Finally, it came down to the final three curses, far more imposing in stature than the previous, their presence heavy with the weight of their power, the apparent leaders of this enterprise.

All this appeared to be inconsequential to the indefatigable Nanami Kento, who unleashed a single, forceful blow that tore through all three curses at once, chopping them down right at their weak spot, thus putting an end to their onslaught, once and for all.

A tingling warmth flowed through you, easing some of the tension in your aching muscles, and you thought that maybe it was something beyond mere tiredness that accounted for this particular tremor traveling down your legs.

You trudged over to where Nanami stood, finding him still visibly recovering as he brought the back of his hand up to wipe his forehead, displacing the loose strands of his neatly disheveled hair. The sleeves of his cerulean shirt were pulled back, revealing a toned arm dotted with small beads of sweat, and accented by his signature watch, which gleamed as it caught the midday sunlight.

It suddenly occurred to you that you must have been staring when you caught a glint from Nanami's glasses as he shifted, and you watched as he scrutinized you, appearing to conduct a subtle but thorough assessment of his own.

“How are you holding up?” he asked, a light strain accompanying his words, his chest slightly heaving from exertion as he still caught his breath.

I should be the one asking you that, is what you wanted to reply.

“I’m completely fine… What about you?” you asked instead, attempting to ground yourself by counting the patterned spots adorning his tie, now only loosely coiled around his hand.

“Good,” his reply came laced with relief, as though a weight was lifted off his shoulders, and you felt his eyes linger on you for a brief moment before he followed up, “I’m fine as well.”

You found yourself nervously shifting your weight from foot to foot, each fidgety movement pushing the sharpened point of your spear to dig deeper into the cool grass as you hesitated in your next words.

“Thank you for taking on that last wave,” you said, still taking a trivial mental tally of black spots on yellow fabric. “You sure made light work of clearing them.”

A quiet twinge of self-consciousness rippled through you as soon as you uttered the words, and you winced internally as you silently hoped that they didn’t fall as flat with him as they sounded to you. You lifted your gaze, catching his for the brief moment it took him to turn his back to you, and you told yourself that you were imagining the faint flush that appeared to creep up his neck, just above his collar. You convinced yourself that the way he’d pressed his lips into a thin line was not a smile, nor even a suppressed iteration of one.

“It’s not a problem,” Nanami said over his shoulder. You watched curiously as he walked back the few steps that separated him from the spot where the discombobulated remains of the final three curses still lay. He knelt down to pick up what appeared to be an object dropped by one of the large curses, before he began to make his way back to you, his gaze still not quite returning to you. 

“The truth is,” he continued, “I wouldn’t have been able to conserve this much energy had you not handled the previous waves as effectively as you did.”

Surely, these were but the polite words of a Grade 1 sorcerer towards his Grade 2 colleague. 

Surely, it was the nebulous product of a tired and overactive imagination, and not an undercurrent of timidity you were detecting in his voice. 

And surely, you’d tell yourself later, as you’d replay this interaction in your mind, it was the adrenaline propelling you in the moment, driving your unusual urge to keep a conversation going.

“Still, Nanami…” you chirped, feigning a confidence you did not yet feel you had, “At the risk of employing Ino’s terms, you did sort of hard carry me at the end there…”

This earned you a small scoff from the stoic sorcerer, a tiny but remarkable crack in his otherwise guarded demeanor, a pleasant surprise.

“Absolutely not,” he said before finally meeting your gaze from beyond his tinted lenses. “It was a team effort, and we made a good team.”

“Eh, I don’t know…” you replied, averting your gaze with a non-committal hum.

“You don’t know if we make a good team?”

You threw a glance his way, and this time, the tiny amused lift of his lips was unmistakable.

“No, yeah, I think we do,” you replied as nonchalantly as you possibly could.

“Good. I think so too.”

Surely, there was no deeper significance to this.

Regardless, he’d completely disarmed you of the remnants of your unperturbed veneer, and you found yourself mirroring his smile, not that you could even help it if you’d wanted to, not after he punctuated his statement with such a natural utterance of your name.

As you fought the urge to break the connection of his gaze and to hide from the unexpected vulnerability it was drawing from you, you steadied yourself by bringing your second hand to the worn wood of your spear, its familiar texture a slight comfort against the nervous tremor in your grip, further digging and it into the soft dirt surface of the ground. It crossed your mind that at this rate, you just might find the planet’s core before this conversation ended.

Nanami held up the object he’d just picked up, revealing it to be a small wooden placard.

“We should return this where it belongs,” he said, thankfully moving on from the suspended moment. “I believe I recall which gate had its signage missing.”

As you descended the shrine’s sloping grounds, the crunch of the gravel path underfoot sounded a soothing rhythm to an easier, more natural conversation as you recapped the mission’s events thus far. Nanami’s memory proved to be correct, so you both stopped before a small gate by an off-beat path right by the third main entrance, one which notably had a bare signpost.

You watched intently, captured by the quiet precision of his movements as he meticulously reattached the placard to the side of the gate, and you couldn’t help but marvel at the duality demonstrated within the time span of a single mission; the handiwork of hands that were dispensing righteous destruction a few minutes ago, now engaged in an authentic act of restoration.

Nanami backed up after having completed this endeavor, and only then were you able to make out the aged inscription on the wooden placard:

Destiny’s Path

Much like at the moment you were assigned to this mission, with this partner, your mind flitted to the notion of fate’s inescapable decree.

Several months separated you from that first joint mission, and you and Nanami now found yourselves engaged in an exercise that was as experimental and intimate as your blooming relationship.

“Alright, so the cabbage into eight wedges first and then cut each of those in half, the sweet potato and carrots cut into one-inch chunks, and then for the okra, you can just sever the stems.” You instructed, as you carefully placed a kitchen knife into his hand, handle first.

“Yes, chef,” he replied solemnly, a mirthful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

It was his spirited refrain, one he’d now delivered for the third time this evening, earning him yet another snicker from you. Though it was his kitchen you were occupying, he’d gladly adopted the role of sous-chef for the night.

A comfortable silence hung in the air for a moment, and the reality of the situation settled. A Friday evening in Nanami’s apartment, the rich aroma of onions and bell peppers melding with sautéed beef in a pan wafting through the kitchen along with a tomato and cayenne broth simmering in a stockpot. It comprised the beginning of a savory West African peanut stew recipe you’d committed to share with him some weeks ago, a promise Nanami was now holding you to via a rather impromptu dinner night. An array of emotions swirled and commingled within you; a blend of nervousness and elation, of novelty and familiarity. 

There was no label, none that you knew of at least, for the melding of your identities through a cultural dish whose preparation you knew like the back of your hand, and yet felt like you were learning for the first time all over again. You’ve tried to articulate the simplicity with which Nanami welcomed you into his space, to put into words the inexplicable but deeply satisfying sense of belonging that he instilled within you through acts like this one.

Underlying all this was a certain permissiveness to allow yourselves to drop the formalities imposed by the limitations of the workplace, of getting a glimpse into the reserved sorcerer in a rare, relaxed form, into undiscovered shades in his voice, and into an utterly understated playfulness that you were quick find both endlessly surprising and positively delightful. It truly was a nameless sentiment, something of a catalytic blur, a steady whisper in the background of shared breaths and of casual touches.

It was almost dizzying.

But not as dizzying as watching Nanami pull back the sleeves of the black polo shirt he’d changed into in two swift movements, leaving you no time to prepare nor to brace yourself against being unexpectedly faced with his exposed forearms.

Your breath slightly hitched at the sight.

In theory, your simmering broth, along with the meticulous process of sautéing your beef chunks with the bell peppers and onions you’d just added to your pan, should have sufficed to keep your attention.

In practice, the steady and rhythmic sound of Nanami’s knife striking wood only underscored what you could only imagine being an unmatched display of dexterity and an effortless masterclass in precision as he worked right beside you, each audible cut drawing you, enticing you to take a peek.

Just checking on his progress was how you’d shamelessly rationalize it in your mind.

So here you were, inconspicuously shifting your gaze over to his cutting board and, just as expected, your eyes fell upon a riveting sight. You caught the edge of your lower lip, observing Nanami’s slender, nimble fingers as he guided the knife over the firm yet yielding raw sweet potato, which, in turn, offered a slight resistance at each slicing movement, causing the muscles in his forearm to flex and his veins to ripple beneath his skin like tiny, pulsing rivers.

Those glorious veins.

How much time had elapsed as you watched, mesmerized by the way they disappeared and reemerged under the surface of his skin? What stopped you, really, from grabbing his arm right then and there, from tracing the constellation of every single vein that ran down from his fingers to the taut skin above his wrist, right down to where the fabric of his rolled-up sleeve bunched up on his forearm? All you’d know for sure was that after a while, Nanami paused mid-slice and glanced at you.

“I’m not doing this wrong, am I?” he asked, in a tone carrying an undercurrent of genuine concern.

“What? Yes. Ah, no. I mean, you’re doing great, don’t stop.”

It was a stammered reply, delivered almost too quickly, definitely too loudly. You turned back to your task at hand, the stove’s once comforting warmth now only serving to intensify the heat crawling up your neck and rising towards your flustered face.

You felt Nanami’s gaze linger on you for a bit before he resumed, his movements now slightly slower and carrying a renewed diligence. For a moment, you felt small a pang of guilt at the thought of having potentially planted a seed of doubt in his mind as a result of your shameless ogling, a sentiment that quickly faded away after he cut the last of the sweet potato, slightly shifting his angle, granting you an even clearer, more direct view of his effort as he took on slicing the carrots. Those offered less resistance, so when he started once again, it was in a brisker rhythm, each motion, each accompanying sound a note in the sinewy symphony of movement before you, capturing your full attention. There was no denying it now.

This was decidedly a thing.

Nanami finally threw a sidelong glance in your direction, and this time, you were sure that he’d caught you red-handed; you couldn’t even pretend to be subtle anymore, and you fully expected him to finally call you out on your staring when your eyes met and he spoke again.

“So is it wood then?” he said, a statement more than a question, breaking neither his gaze nor his rhythm as he continued to chop the vegetables.

His seemingly random question juxtaposed with his casual demeanor had completely thrown you for a loop. For the few seconds you tried to decipher it, your mind was in a bit of a whirlwind, and you briefly thought that perhaps it had finally happened, that you’d finally lost your mind, that you were far enough gone that you were now hallucinating and hearing nonsense.

“I’m sorry… Wood?” you asked, completely puzzled.

“Your secret ingredient for this dish? I’m assuming that’s what that’s about,” he said as he gestured his head towards the stove, bringing your attention to the wooden spoon you’d distractedly long since let slip out of your fingers and fall into the stockpot, nearly fully submerged in the broth.

“Ha. Very funny,” you said, trying and failing to suppress a snicker at just how ridiculous this situation, and the circumstances that led to it, were. “You should be minding your carrots, sir.”

You reached for the tip of the spoon that was still accessible and carefully tried to pinch it at an angle that would spare your fingers from being burned on the edge of the red-hot pot.

“Yes, chef,” Nanami’s voice broke the tense silence just as you were about to retrieve the spoon, and something about the comedic delayed timing of his response sent you over the edge as you let the chortle you didn’t realize you’d been desperately holding escape your lips, along with a sudden movement that only served to push the distressed spoon to slide deeper into the pot.

“Damn it, look at what you’ve done!” you cried out, your giggles betraying your attempt to mask your amusement.

Nanami chuckled as he reached his arm over, muscles flexing with the extension, coming to the rescue just in time to grab the tip of the spoon’s handle by the last few millimetres that remained safe. Just as he expertly brought the spoon into the adjoining sink for rinsing, a sharp exhale escaped him, transfiguring into an earnest burst of laughter, rich and unrestrained.

“I’m glad my troubles, which you caused, by the way, amuse you so much.” You brought a hand to your face, partly to cover what was now decidedly a shared laughter between you two, partly to conceal the embarrassment you felt about what your indiscretion had brought you.

“Thanks,” you said sheepishly when he handed you the now clean spoon, before adding with caution, “I know you want to, don’t say it again.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied with a smirk and a rising intonation as he resumed cutting the vegetables, an anticipated implication that he would defy your request.

You told yourself that there would be ample time later, for entertaining the colorful thoughts that permeated as a low hum in the background of your mind for the remainder of that evening, as you stole more subtle glances at him throughout the rest of your dinner prep, as you later chatted away over a successfully prepared meal. That you’d admonish yourself later tonight, for engaging in the all too tempting mental exercise of imagining other uses for Nanami’s arms, and for relishing in the creative results this yielded.

Slipping.

The threadbare mask you’d painstakingly managed to keep up thus far was now slipping.

The closing weeks of the first term of the new school year found you firmly ensconced in what was now a deepening romantic relationship with Nanami. By now, you’d long since stowed it neatly at the back of your mind; the notion that each passing day only inched you closer to that future, inevitable moment when you would be pushed to confront whatever consequences would come out of the sweet release of disclosure.

An inflection point would precede all this, however — a pivotal moment you would only pinpoint in retrospect, arriving on a late July afternoon marked by a suffocating heatwave.

The beads of sweat were finally beginning to cool on your forehead as the minutes ticked by. The small fan Nanami had placed on the coffee table before you a few minutes prior served as a scant but much-appreciated last defence against the thick, humid air, which had long since frizzed the edges of your once-sleek, silk-pressed hair.

About half an hour had passed since you’d both languidly stumbled into this unused office, desperately seeking refuge within what was seemingly the sole room in this building benefitting from a window that did not directly face the scorching midday sun, an oasis in a school building whose air conditioning had fallen to the whims of Murphy’s Law and had ceased to function during the city’s warmest week on record.

Nanami sat at the desk toiling away at some mission report while you were slumped on the adjacent couch, tackling a lesson plan, each of you battling on different fronts of the same war against the heavy, humid air.

The usually lively post-lunchtime coworking session you’d both been looking forward to had thus taken a sluggish tenor as you tried to focus on each of your tasks while holding onto the last bit of sanity amidst these terrible conditions that were anything but workable.

You’d swapped the hot tea you’d normally share at this time with a much less optimal cold drink that wound up being more ice than coffee, and instead of the usual buzz of conversation often consisting of Nanami delivering his scathing commentary on the latest episode of the new baking reality show you’d both been watching in tandem, a quiet stillness descended on you, only intermittently interrupted either by a sigh, the clacking sound of his keyboard, or the scribbling sound of your pen gliding across your tablet.

Out the cracked window, the cheerful chatter of some students who had gathered outside around some cold refreshments could be heard, and you wished you could emulate a fraction of their eager energy.

Only once the pen you’d been holding flew out of your hand, bouncing past your feet and rolling down somewhere under the couch, did you realize that you’d been absentmindedly tapping it against your knee in your fidgety distraction, its unceremonious clattering sound pulling you out of your contemplation.

You bent down and lazily padded the area just underneath the couch, first with your foot, then with your fingers, but they came up empty, finding only the ridged hardwood floor.

“Ah, shit,” you muttered under your breath. Now was not the time for this.

A very irrational reevaluation of the merits of completing a lesson plan in time for said lesson began to creep into your thoughts, and just as you began to contemplate abandoning ship for the day, Nanami calmly rose from his seat and made his way towards you, having observed the entire debacle out of the corner of his eye.

“This damn pen…” you bemoaned as you padded the same area over and over again, as though it would magically materialize after the umpteenth pass.

“I’ll get it,” Nanami said coolly as he crouched by you, right in the cramped space separating the coffee table from the couch that seated you.

You lifted your head, and it was in this newfound proximity that you took in just how much his tone contrasted with his demeanor, and how affected he was by these sweltering conditions.

It was evidenced in the way his disheveled hair clung onto his sweaty forehead, his tie off and draped over his shoulders, in the way the first two buttons of his shirt were undone, exposing his gleaming collarbone and in the haphazard manner by which his sleeves were pushed back to his elbows, wrinkled and uneven. It had you wondering whether it was just you or if this heat wave somehow managed to melt away a certain poise Nanami usually carried, giving him a rugged, slightly more cavalier allure that even you found to be rather novel.

It crossed your mind that perhaps it was a different kind of heat, one that had little to do with the weather that held dominion over these wandering thoughts.

Nanami brought his knuckles to the floor, extending his legs behind him and holding his body straight and taut as he flexed his arms, lowering himself in a controlled movement before dipping his head to glance underneath the couch. He reached one hand just by your right foot, while expertly hovering his chest just a couple of inches above the floor. The subtle bulging of his muscles beneath his shirt as they tensed certainly did not escape you.

Your eyes flicked first to the pen Nanami was now handing you, then back to his face, where you found a nearly imperceptible air of contentment and the beginnings of an amused smile. A silent testament, you thought, to his successful little expedition.

“Lifesaver,” you said, returning his smile. “My students get to have a class tomorrow, thanks to you.” Your attempt at feigning a relaxed demeanor held, until, that is, your fingers brushed against his as you took the pen, and you tried to suppress the involuntary hitch in your breath at the contact.

Get it together, girl, you thought to yourself, as you watched Nanami bring his hand to the floor, still without a word, expecting him to return to his seat.

Instead, with a measured exhale, Nanami lowered himself back towards the ground.

“I can feel it, you know…” When he finally spoke, it was barely audible over the buzzing fan, addressing the floor more than you.

“Hmm?” you said as you cautiously glanced down towards him.

“The tension.” He concluded his sentence, his voice even, low in tone yet loud in the relative silence. He held the position, his body a straight line from shoulders to toes, arms at a near-perfect right angle. His eyes kept straight ahead, and you could’ve sworn that it was only once your eyes traced over his arms, sparse hairs smoothened by the glistening sweat, that he finally extended them, raising himself in a smooth movement with a light grunt as he exhaled.

You felt your chest tighten.

“What tension?” you asked, unsure why you were murmuring, fairly sure that you should be bracing to hear whatever he had to say next.

“One,” he let out, his voice a low rumble, tilting his head up and peering at you through the blonde strands of hair that now fell over his eyes, holding your gaze just long enough for it to be noticeable, before his arms bent again, exerting muscles that revealed a striking pattern stretched over clearly defined veins. He lowered himself once more and pushed back up, a swift movement this time.

“Two,” he spoke again as he lowered himself into what was now clearly yet another push-up.

Amid this unbearable heat and out of seemingly nowhere, Nanami Kento had broken into some damn push ups.

“The tension. In my neck, through my shoulders, down to my lower back. That chair is stiff, less than ergonomic. And sitting in it all day…” he trailed off, his eyes lingering on you before he counted again.

“Three.”

Despite the now unmistakable smirk stretching Nanami’s lips, his tone was deceptively even, holding a rough rasp devoid of any strain, and it went straight to your core, trickling as a tingle down between your legs as your throat suddenly went tight and dry.

“Sitting in it all day…” he started again, picking up where he left off. “Something about the stretch of this exercise brings me so much relief.”

Nanami returned his focus to the space on the floor, right between his palms, allowing you the opportunity to keenly observe him. By now, he’d slipped into a fluid rhythm, each push upwards, each descent executed with control. His breathing was audibly rhythmic, quick exhales as he pumped his arms taut, muscles shifting as they flexed. He made the whole thing look so effortless, so damn hot.

You mentally clung to the justification that you were truly defenceless with your eyes here, on Nanami, on his flexing arms but your mind decidedly elsewhere, faced with your traitorous mind and the trips your it took down memory lane, back to other occasions during which you’d witnessed Nanami engaged in a similar exercise in a much different context, echoes from moments of shared passion past. You tried to defend yourself; it wasn’t your fault if, suddenly, momentarily, it became the most rational idea in the world to join him on this office floor and to slide yourself just under him. That if you were quiet enough, perhaps you could avoid being heard over the whirring sound of this fan, fluting up in the air and traveling out the ajar door and window, and—

That train of thought sent a jolting awareness of your surroundings, of your location, surging you back to reason.

“Sixteen,” you heard Nanami’s voice reemerging to the forefront of your mind.

You straightened your spine, pushing the capped end of your pen into your thigh in a misplaced attempt to maintain what little grip you had remaining on yourself and to find your footing, refusing to concede defeat to this dangerous game he had instigated.

“Nanami-san,” you started, the formal addition of the honorific to his surname eliciting a light chuckle that settled into further reinvigoration as he rose again, his muscles scrumptiously straining with push-up number God-knows-what as he picked up the pace. “I don’t know if the heat finally got to your head, or if this is your very roundabout way of asking for a massage or what, but you are doing entirely too much and I should—”

“Did someone say massage?”

A familiar, boisterous voice rang in the tense silence, causing you to jump in your seat and prompting Nanami to snap his head up towards the door. “I heard—Woah, you two are living good in here! Why are you gatekeeping the cool room?”

“Gojo, have you ever heard of knocking?” Nanami said, his tone finding a level of acerbity that was even further pronounced than the one he typically addressed him with.

“So mean to your favorite senpai, Nanamin… Besides, door’s wide open, and you don't seem to be busy working, so it’s fair game, right?” He looked to you for a confirmation you were still far too shaken to give, even if you’d wanted to humor him.

Gojo appeared to be the least affected by the heat wave out of everyone. He’d maintained his usual energetic demeanor, which he displayed now by shamelessly waltzing into the office like he personally owned it. “Oh, hey… Where the hell did you find a fan?”

Nanami let out an audible sigh that sounded more like a groan, rising from what would be his final push-up for now into a kneeling position before getting back on his feet. For what felt like the first time in forever, you could finally feel yourself breathe again, Gojo’s interruption having managed to defuse the dangerously charged energy that almost had you willing to risk it all. Only when the heat made a resurgence to the forefront of your mind did you realize just how dangerously dulled your senses had been rendered.

“Nanamiiiin, I’m so good at massages. Relax and let me give you one…” Gojo said as he extended his arms forward and wiggled them towards a defenceless Nanami.

“Absolutely not,” Nanami said firmly, backing up towards where you were still seated on the couch, only cornering himself and you in the process.

You scooted aside on the two-seater, grabbing your tablet in one hand and gently pulling on Nanami’s arm with the other, enacting your spontaneous plan for a quick escape.

“Come on, Nanamin,” you crooned, using the sobriquet Gojo relentlessly employed. “You were just complaining about the tension, right? Gojo barely seems to feel the heat, and he’s far stronger than me. I’m sure he’ll do a better job than I could ever dream.”

A few swift movements and you’d maneuvered up from the sofa, and stood behind the desk, decidedly flipping the positions you and Nanami had taken for the afternoon.

“She is so right!” Gojo explained, only further reinvigorated by your endorsement. “Sit back, Nanami! It will be my honor to take care of my bestie!”

You kept your gaze on Nanami as he fixed you through narrowed eyes that telegraphed the quiet wrath he had for you for this transgression, for the ultimate act of betrayal it was to inflict Gojo Satoru upon him, a man for with virtually no concept of personal space, on an unbearably humid day like today, no less.

Under different circumstances, you would feel a tiny twinge of guilt for pulling a gambit like this; alas, Nanami had chosen his game, and you’d chosen yours in turn, one that just so happened to involve the exploitation of the godsend that was a classic and chaotic Gojo-induced distraction. So instead, you snickered in your corner as you watched the white-haired menace slide himself behind Nanami and unnecessarily wrap his arms around his chest, eliciting a visceral swat of a hand, along with a cautionary “Don’t” from his visibly irritated counterpart.

You caught Kento’s eye and met his challenging look with a smirk not unlike the one plastered on his face not two minutes ago, when he’d subtly yet relentlessly teased you.

Would there be hell to be paid later? Probably. But for now, you could at least slip away while the two former schoolmates bickered. Now you thought that perhaps joining the students in partaking in refreshments wouldn’t be such a bad idea. You could use a chance to cool off.

And to stop yourself from slipping any further.

If your so-called mask had been hanging on by a thread, it was not in a single moment, but gradually, over the months which followed, that it completely chipped away, much like driftwood being nudged away from the shore by the lapping of gentle waves. 

As you and Kento spent more time together, you both grew more comfortable around one another, becoming more honest and comfortable, and gradually uncovering each other’s strengths and flaws, preferences and aversions, virtues and vices with an acceptance that felt natural and easy.

Your bond had strengthened by now, having long since crossed the line delineating work from life partners, and you were now bound by a promise to make the ultimate promise to one another.

In between these deeper, candid moments, smaller revelations emerged: the subtle ticks and habits, the unintentional mannerisms and underlying drives, the little unspoken details that were concomitant with a blossoming courtship. Suffice it to say that you’d inevitably shared your predilection for Kento’s arms in many ways, some less subtle than others.

On one such occasion, it had slipped out a confession concealed in a question, one day as you were having breakfast together. After some light prodding from your part, Nanami finally relented and gave you an answer other than “everything” when you’d playfully asked him what his favorite feature of yours was; “fingerprints of joy” was the exact term he’d used as a simple yet touching description of your dimples whenever you’d smile, an answer that made you seriously consider tempering your response once he’d inevitably flip the question back to you.

Tried as you might, you ended up being significantly less civil than he was, “my favorite necklace” being one of the bolder terms you’d not-so-facetiously employed, contrasting the softer, playful drag of your finger over his bicep.

The comfortable rapport that had settled between you was not one you took for granted; it was one of the few wherein you could simply be yourself and not have it be “too much”; it was the same intimacy that unveiled the tormenting tease beneath Kento’s surface. And there was an inimitable joy derived from appreciating the man that you loved, warm fuzzies associated with making him blush, or smile, or laugh, whenever you flipped the usual script and when it was you who placed him in the crosshairs of your playful provocation, for once.

By now, you were reasonably convinced that the storm had sufficiently passed, and you figured you could breathe easier, relieved that the passage of time, along with a normalized exposure to Nanami Kento, had successfully dulled the more ardent manifestations of your fixation with your favorite physical trait of his.

What you certainly did not expect was for what you would only later understand to be a dormant force to re-surge with a furious vengeance in the early hours of the morning during a quick weekend getaway.

It was a trip you’d secretly planned in a relatively short time, fueled largely by an experience you’d had one evening just a few days prior, when your fiancé had returned home exhausted after a tough mission closing out a gruelling multi-week assignment.

Though you weren’t unused to the physically and emotionally taxing nature of your duties, you’d hated what you’d seen that night, in the culmination of weeks of relentless work with no break. Reserved as he was, Nanami was not infallible. You’d grown to know him very well by now, more than anyone else; you’d immediately detected the telltale signs of exhaustion, made apparent in his tone, devoid of its usual edge, and in the weariness etched on his face, and perhaps more evidently, in the way that he’d completely crashed as soon as he’d dragged himself out of the quick shower he’d barely managed to stay awake to take. He was burning out, long overdue for a break.

That night, you stayed up in the early hours of the morning, concocting your plan.

You’d worked through most of the night to pull as many strings as a Grade 2 sorcerer ostensibly could, drafting messages aimed to cash in on the decent amount of goodwill you’d garnered amongst your colleagues over the past few years. Ultimately, however, what truly helped you bring this endeavor over the finish line was leveraging your connection to one of the owners of a top-of-the-line, nearly always sold-out kikufuku shop, in conjunction with what was now a burgeoning friendship with Gojo. Although, in retrospect, you suspected that the fellow teacher would have settled for having any involvement with a plan of keeping a secret from Nanami as being adequate compensation. 

By the time you’d clocked out on the following day, you’d managed the impressive feat of securing some overlapping time off for Nanami and yourself, and of successfully planning a short couple’s getaway.

A few days later, the fruits of your labor surfaced in the form of a considerably more tranquil version of Nanami.

Today was already the final day of what now felt like too short of a trip, and having opted to sleep in on the two mornings prior, you’d both made it a point to wake up early in order to catch today’s sunrise over the beach. With the consequences of a very late night still weighing heavily on your eyelids, you’d both emerged from a gruelling battle against sleepiness, just barely victorious.

It was just before five in the morning when you were groggily strolling the sandy beach situated just behind the resort you were staying at.

An inconspicuous glance at Nanami disclosed his relaxed posture and his softened facial features, a stark departure from the overstressed man who’d slumped into your shared home a few days ago. Your heart warmed now, as you observed him in this relatively rare form, dressed in a relaxed t-shirt and khaki shorts, arms moving in a loose, subtle swing as he walked carrying his sandals in one hand and a beach blanket in the other, how his hair was ethereally tousled by the whispering late summer ocean breeze.

He was lost in thought, chest rising and falling in deep, intentional breaths, and you hoped that he too, was taking in the salty scent of the ocean, that he too, could anchor himself in the serenity of the moment as the sound of the waves set a gentle rhythm to your sleepy steps, that he could ground himself in the soft feeling of warm sand yielding under his bare feet. And if this moment could serve as a modicum of respite, as a sliver of an escapist refuge both now and in the inevitable future moments when they would be called for, then you would consider your mission as being accomplished.

You halted your march just as the sky began to blush with hues of golden orange, towards which you turned, and Nanami followed suit, setting down the blanket he’d brought for you to sit on. You hadn’t made it too far from the resort, just enough to escape the early morning crowd; only a few other fellow beachgoers were sparsely spread out on the semi-secluded section of the beach. You settled onto the left end of the blanket, expecting him to join beside you, only to feel the unanticipated pressure of his body behind you instead.

Nanami carefully repositioned himself, gently snaking one arm around your waist and the other around your shoulders, pulling you toward him and enclosing you in a tender hug from behind. You mentally traced his movements by the way his warm breath moved from fanning the top of your head, over the back of your neck, and onto the side of your cheek, as he punctuated his journey with a soft kiss just below your jawline before his head settled on the right side of yours.

You closed your eyes, a contented sigh escaping your lips, and you wished nothing more than to ingrain this little haven of tranquility into your mind, for it to become the unforgettable safe place to which you could always revert.

Just as you turned your gaze to witness the sun now making its definitive ascent over the ocean, you thought you felt Nanami’s grip tighten ever so slightly in a shift so nearly imperceptible that you questioned whether it had even happened. It was a concern that quickly became secondary to your sudden awareness of the flimsy nature of the fabrics comprising his cotton t-shirt and your mesh cover-up forming the trivial barrier between his warm, well-defined arms against your cool skin, to the compromising position you now were in.

A sudden tension traveled through your body, seeking a place to nest as you fidgeted with the hem of your top, trying to return your focus to the wonderful scene unfolding ahead.

“What a perfect sunrise,” you ventured, in your best attempt to sound casual.

Nanami only offered a low hum in agreement, resonating and vibrating through your ear. And then, you felt it again: a slight upward shift of his hold, a minute increase in pressure.

This time, it was unmistakable.

Every sensation intensified tenfold in that moment. His muscular chest pressing into your back, his breath tickling your neck, the crook of his arm resting gently just below your chin, close, so dangerously close that you could lick it.

Without much thought, you brought your hands up and closed them over his biceps, at least as much as they could possibly wrap around their circumference, and slid over them, getting a good feel for the flexed muscles underneath his skin, until you landed on his elbows.

And then you pressed inwards.

Your move met no resistance, resulting in his caged arms further tightening across your chest. A sharp exhale escaped your lips as the feeling reverberated through your body, sending a shiver down your spine and straight to your core. You instinctively brought your thighs together, their friction only exacerbating the very sensation you were looking to evade. Your breath hitched, and you felt your mouth go dry.

As you tilted your head, leaning further back into Nanami, something you didn’t think could be possible, you could now distinguish the accelerating thumping sound of your heartbeat against your chest just under where his arms held you. You couldn’t imagine that he wasn’t privy to the escalating effect this all had on you.

He sat up straighter, a shift in movement that pushed his elbow right below your neck. Again, you felt it, gradual pressure—measured, steady, much like its perpetrator.

Just within biting distance, came the intrusive thought, popping into your mind like a sudden gust of wind in still air. It would be the first of many over the next few minutes, and you didn’t exactly know how much time passed as you staved off the ones that erred on the more wanton side of things, the ones that had you making a mental, logistical calculus of how much you could reasonably get away with, on this waterfront sparsely dotted by a few fellow beachgoers.

Nanami’s steady voice suddenly rumbled behind you, almost rattling you. “Quite the breathtaking sight, well worth the early wake up.”

And before you knew it, it was over. The sun was now up in earnest.

Nanami slowly loosened his grip on you, and still, you almost toppled to the side as you returned to reality, to where you were, to your packed itinerary for this final day of this short getaway, the one you’d meticulously planned and shared with Nanami with an excitement he’d reciprocated, a plan you found yourself now willing to completely discard and replace with the other, much simpler one you now had in mind.

You slowly turned to face Kento, attempting to gauge his body language, and found his eyes still fixed on the soaring sun behind you,  engaged in a slow cross-arm stretch, and you could almost see the tension release and exit through his gentle sigh. If he was perturbed at all, he showed no signs of it.

Then, with a sudden shift, he switched arms, locking eyes with you.

“Shall we get breakfast, then?” he asked, casual as ever. “That concierge did a solid job pitching that brioche French toast. I’m itching to try it now.”

And had you not known him better, you would’ve missed the near imperceptible lilt of the tone of his voice, the hints of mirth crinkling at the corner of his eyes, the echoes of a knowing smirk under his deceptively soft smile.

You would have missed these details, had you not known better, following this sunrise that would long stick with you, for all the improper reasons, and you wouldn’t have suspected that, far more likely than not, Nanami Kento knew exactly what the hell he was doing.

The evening on which your suspicions were confirmed came a few months later, on the tail end of a chaotically busy period.

The combined effects of missed dinners and hurried goodbyes, of long work shifts and scheduling conflicts, had compounded, barely affording Nanami so much as a stolen moment with you, much less the quality time he yearned for.

Arduous missions stretched late into nights, and he’d find you home long after you’d lost your battle against somnolence; on your end, you could almost hear the guilt of your failure to stay awake ring loudly in the silence of the early hours of the morning, when you’d find Nanami crashed next to you, with exhaustion spelled on his face.

Canceled lunch dates were communicated in brief text messages you’d punctuate with goofy animated GIFs, a consolation tactic Nanami would’ve otherwise found to be endearing had it not carried the very calculated mandate of allowing you to evade his enquiries about whether you’d found the time to eat your first meal of the day.

Pure intentions and poor luck, right places but wrong times, and the universe appeared to be conspiring against you.

All the while, sitting just beneath the surface, was the simmering unease, steady as a metronome whose pulses were the moments of lucidity that pulled Nanami out of the comfortable shroud of the feigned normalcy he’d allowed himself to slip into. It was the same sentiment that caused his throat to constrict after encountering those occasional close-call encounters that had him face a formidable cursed spirit, the same feeling that transfigured into a pit in his stomach whenever it was you who was out on the field, and he hadn’t heard from you in a while. The ever-present threat now carried the weight of something unprecedentedly precious, and every once in a while, he would be subjected to reminders that were as intangible as they were painful, reminders that this line of work remained incredibly dangerous, and that this could all come to a very sudden end.

The Jujutsu Tech car came to an abrupt halt, jolting Nanami out of his contemplation.

His fingers brushed the cool metal of the door handle just as he peered into the rearview mirror from the backseat, and when his eyes locked with those of the colleague he’d spent the bulk of the week with, he found a weary gaze, reflective of the relentless pace of their recent assignments.

“Thank you for waiting, Ijichi. I should only be a few minutes,” Nanami said, giving the assistant manager an appreciative nod before exiting the car and making his way towards the training field.

On the radial bridge between surrender and acceptance, Nanami often found gratitude to be his only path out of ruinous rumination.

So today, he chose to be grateful.

Grateful for having cleared his mission much earlier than expected, and for the time this afforded him to take a trip to the campus facilities, to shower and to get into a clean change of clothes, in the hopes of catching you just as your lesson ended.

Grateful for Ijichi chauffeuring him from the dorms back to the training field where he could wait for you to wrap up your lesson and for agreeing to drive you both back home, together, finally for the first time in weeks.

Grateful for the current moment that granted him this sight of you, mid-lesson as you supervised a hand-to-hand combat session for a group of students, a view he’d grown both so fond and so familiar with.

The aluminum bleachers squeaked under Nanami’s weight as he took a seat, his eyes never leaving you as you paced behind the three pairs of students engaged in their bouts, occasionally stopping either to correct a stance or to provide some feedback. The visual transported him to a similar moment that found him on this very row of seats a little over a year and a half ago, a memory as sharp and clear as if it had occurred just yesterday.

You were alone when he noticed you.

Only a few weeks removed from the day he’d traded his briefcase for his blunt sword, an inexplicable unease and sense of displacement still loomed over Nanami’s head even as he walked the once-familiar campus grounds. His quest to locate a quiet spot to enjoy a late lunch in peace and away from one particularly aggravating Gojo Satoru led him to these training field bleachers.

He’d resigned himself to a life of relative solitude from the moment he’d crossed the threshold out of his office building for the final time, intent on leaving any semblance of his paltry attempt at a civilian’s life behind. The Jujutsu world had always been less than ideal, and a return to this life had meant making certain self-evident vows to himself, one of which being that he wouldn’t drag anyone into his orbit while he was active.

Never had he imagined that he would be the one dragged into someone’s orbit. Into yours.

You’d emerged from the field house on that early fall day, just as he opened the bento box he’d packed with the previous night’s leftovers. Even from this distance, he recognized you as the Grade 2 instructor he’d been vaguely acquainted with via cursory greetings, the one he’d continuously heard Ino speak so highly of.

Nanami observed as you entered a sequence of practice drills with your cursed weapon, a long spear that you worked so fluidly, as though it were an extension of your body. Each of your moves was a masterclass in balance between power and restraint, each strike precisely measured, each swing calculated. He watched as you thrust your weapon into wide, controlled motions that sent the long drapes of your skirt twirling in the wind, dark curls whipping around your face with your movements, the autumnal afternoon sun warmed your brown skin with a soft honeyed glow. By the time his phone vibrated to signal the end of his break, Nanami glanced down, only to find his bento untouched.

Perhaps he was compelled to take a few more late lunches following that day.

When Ino indirectly called him out on this new habit of his, it was Nanami’s ingrained inability to stray too far from candor that rendered him unable to outright deny the younger sorcerer’s cheeky hypothesis, that the true reason he’d opted to spend so many recent lunch breaks eating at those benches rather than the significantly more comfortable break room was because “the view was better out there”. Nanami understood from the moment he’d uttered his vague non-answer that it would mark the first point of exposure.

This inevitability was confirmed, a few weeks later, the cat decidedly out of the bag when Yuuji made a grand display of throwing his two thumbs up through the window just as Nanami slid into the booth seat across yours at a nearby cafe one day as he’d invited you to have tea after clearing another mission together.

“You do so well with Yuuji,” you’d said, once the teen was out of sight, dragged away by the sleeve by the young Nobara. “That boy is very lucky to have you as his teacher.”

“Well, technically I’m not a teacher,” Nanami replied in a tone that failed to convince even himself.

“You teach him things, Nanami. That’s the textbook definition of a teacher.”

A silent pause settled between you. Nanami stirred his tea absentmindedly as he watched you cut the apple strudel you’d ordered into smaller pieces.

“I’ve been thinking about joining the faculty,” he said, the words barely formed before leaving his lips.

“Oh, that’s wonderful, Nanami! I would be so thrilled!” you exclaimed. Nanami watched you quickly straighten up in an obvious attempt to dial back your expressed excitement, but he’d already witnessed you perk up, your genuine reaction stirring something deep and pleasant within him.

“We all would,” you quickly added. “Especially Gojo. You know he would immediately take credit for it.”

Nanami brought his eyes shut and rubbed his temples at the thought, “Please, I’m not even there yet. I’ve not talked to Gojo about this…” He paused again, opening his eyes to lock onto yours. “Or anyone else, for that matter.”

“Oh… So I’m getting the exclusive?” You replied in playful conspiracy. ”I feel so privileged.”

Nanami nodded quietly with a light, nervous chuckle, picking at the biscuit on his plate but not finding the will to take a bite from it.

“But in all seriousness, you should go for it. You’re a great mentor and a skilled sorcerer. The school could badly use someone like you.”

To this, he said nothing, his eyes wandering out the window in contemplation.

“However,” you ventured after a brief moment. “If you have any reservations, and you ever want to talk about them…” You trailed off, leaving the invitation suspended in the air.

Nanami’s reservations were so many, most of which he couldn’t possibly attempt to articulate even as they jockeyed for position in his mind. When he glanced back at you, he could sense you hanging onto his silence.

“You’ve done this for a while. Tell me your best piece of advice about teaching.”

He watched you gather your thoughts, pressing your lips together and narrowing your eyes like he’d seen you do countless times when a student would ask you a question and you would carefully formulate an answer.

“If you ever forget what it’s like to be a kid, get out. There’s no point in doing any of this if you can’t place yourself in their shoes, or yours, ten, fifteen years ago. As long as you remember the powerlessness and the lack of agency that comes not only with being young but with being condemned to our way of life, to seeing curses…” Nanami watched you pause to take the first bite at a piece of strudel, and as you chewed, he could almost see the rest of your thought forming through your eyes. “It’s such a burden, one no one should bear alone, least of all a child. At least, that’s how I see it.”

Before this moment, Nanami had tried repeatedly so, to qualify this magnetic draw to you, to label it. Was it the juxtaposition of the soft-spoken instructor against the fierceness you appeared to carry? Was it your nuanced condemnation of a system, all the while dedicating yourself to its people?

Perhaps it was at this moment, Nanami would ponder later, that he’d decided that this way of life was one worth living rather than simply surviving.

“Hey, you. You look familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?” the playful tone of your voice snapped Nanami, who had been too engrossed to notice your approach, back to the current moment.

Gratitude.

He rose from his seat, bringing his hands up to gently cup your face, and leaned in to brush his lips against yours in a tender kiss. You froze momentarily, caught a bit off guard; for as physically affectionate as you now were with one another, neither of you was usually the type to engage in public displays of this, particularly not on campus. Today, Nanami quietly broke this unspoken precedent.

Only the first of the several he would break later.

“We have a ride, if you’re ready to leave now,” he said after he slowly pulled away. The notes of your lip balm were of vanilla, but to him, they carried the familiar taste of a fragile slice of happiness.

“Yeah… I’m beyond ready,” you murmured, still reeling a bit at the surprise, at the intensity of the moment. “Let’s get the hell out of here before I get roped into some last-minute bullshit, like last week.”

If the lapse in Nanami’s usual propriety was displayed in that one kiss, yours would manifest in several ways before you made the short ride back to your shared apartment.

And much as he’d done on so many occasions from the training field bleachers, Nanami simply watched you.

He watched as you leaned into him in the backseat of the car, running your hand against his thigh, innocently at first, then moving dangerously close to his crotch with every caressing stroke. The self-satisfied grin that stretched your lips as you detected a hitch in his breath did not escape him.

He watched as you teased him on the elevator ride up to your apartment as you pressed your back against his front, giving him a subtle, deliberate press and grind and catching his eyes in the reflective panel, just in time to watch his gaze falter ever-so-slightly. This, too, he’d remember.

He watched you, knowing that you enjoyed all of it, that you thrilled at the mischievous pleasure it was to poke the agitated bear, and he let you have your fun, exercising a restraint he didn’t think himself capable to maintain after a long, stressful and restrictive week spent nearly entirely away from you.

But as soon as you crossed the threshold into your shared apartment, as soon as he shut the door behind him and turned around to find your hands gripping onto his tie, pulling, yanking, his face down towards yours, almost too zealously?

Nanami decided he’d watched long enough.

He pushed back into you, his hands working in concert as one brought your fists together and off their hold while the other slipped into your hair, kneading your scalp down to the base of your nape. Assertive yet tender, his touch was a study in contrasts, sending a single, tantalizing shiver down your spine, igniting into a fizzing warmth in your stomach.

Your tongues met right before his searing lips closed onto yours in a kiss that was so urgent, so fervent, dripping with an eagerness you hadn’t felt in a while. He swallowed your whimper as your back lightly hit the vestibule wall, a reaction that wrenched a low, self-satisfied growl from his chest. Nanami could feel it now, more than ever—several days’ worth of unmistakably pent-up energy coalescing into a single, white hot ache.

He was unwilling to relinquish any closeness, not even now, as you peeled off him momentarily with a small, breathless gasp, two of your quick, heaving breaths to each of his. He felt your drumming pulse on his lips as he settled into the side of your neck, his mouth just below your jawline.

His mind replayed the slightly disappointed expression he’d discerned on your face earlier this morning, which now felt like a lifetime ago, after a phone call he’d later admonish himself for taking summoned him, along with his fellow Grade 1 sorcerers, to the school for a meeting that definitely could have been an email, just as you’d brought him a cup of orange juice to pair with his toast. He heard himself groan out in frustration now, at the memory of the first breakfast you were having together in weeks being unceremoniously cut short, and he nipped at your throat, eliciting a moan from you that faded into the background of the hazy, regretful thoughts that were reinvigorating him to make up for lost time.

The late afternoon sun was mostly blocked out by the heavy living area window curtains, which had remained drawn, a testament to the hurried exits you both made earlier. Nanami’s eyes were slowly getting accustomed to the dark, just enough to catch your warm brown eyes searching his as you gently pressed your palm against his chest, blinking up slowly at him with an unreadable gaze. He sensed you shifting your left foot behind your right one and glanced down just in time to watch you slip out of your second shoe, but not before you slid your knee up the inside of his leg, pressing and rubbing against his crotch teasingly, evoking an uncontrolled hiss out of him at the unexpected contact.

“Missed me, Kento?” you crooned.

A light chuckle rumbled up through Nanami’s chest. “Maybe just a little,” he mumbled.

“Just a little? Just maybe? Come on now. We’re well into a few weeks married now. Surely you can be more honest with me,” you replied, in mock offence.

“Oh, you don’t find me honest?” he said with a scoff, something dark in his response.

Instead of pulling away from this newfound, compromising position, Nanami doubled down, firmly pressing his hips to yours, forcing your leg back down, and you found yourself now trapped between the wall and the visibly voracious man before you. 

For the brief second he brought his head down to your shoulder, with his hot breath ghosting over your neck and his lips grazing your ear, you expected him to say something, to call you out, to chastise you, but instead, his response came as a slow, deliberate roll of his hips against yours, ensuring you felt every last inch of the increasingly stiffening problem you’d helped create against your core.

You arched into him with a throaty gasp as his lips found the base of your throat once more, lightly nibbling. His hand closed on your hip, firmly gripping it in place as he leaned against the wall to summarily kick off his shoes, not unlike you just did a mere few seconds ago.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ventured, in between the two languid grinds of his hips that pushed his thigh to settle between your legs. “Are you honest?”

The dark chuckle preceding Nanami’s reply should have served as your first warning.

“Are you?”

His fingers twisted around the hem of your shirt, and you could already tell, in the way he pulled it over your head in one swift movement, lobbing it over his shoulder with a dexterous flick of his wrist, that he would waste no time in dispensing with your clothing, that his desire to ignite this fuse burned just as brightly, perhaps even more fiercely, than your own.

You’d barely heard your top land unceremoniously on the linoleum floor before feeling his fingers reaching to do the same with your camisole, goosebumps erupting where he grazed your skin, spreading like wildfire. You pulled at his tie again, pulling him down and planting another kiss on his lips, something slower, more sensual than the first. Only when its straps slipped down your arms did you realize that he’d used the moment to unhook your bra, and you shook out of it, letting it clatter to the floor as well.

Your second attempt at undoing his tie was thwarted once more, something slightly rougher in the way he grabbed your hands and drove them back down to your sides.

“Turn around,” Nanami said, brusquely. The space was quite dark, but you didn’t need to discern the expression on his face to understand that the strained gentleness of his tone did not make this any less of a command, one you gladly obliged.

Your steadying hands met a texture, cooler and smoother than expected, meeting a bit of resistance as they glided over the surface. You felt a bit heady for the short moment it took you to reorient yourself, to realize your compromising position, to recognize the blurry outline of your own reflection in the flat, full-length mirror mounted against the vestibule wall.

You stilled and patiently waited, agitation melding with eager anticipation as your mind associated a vivid visual with the sound emanating behind you, one of the audible friction of sleeves sliding upward against bare skin, an enticing prelude of what you knew was to come.

Nanami trailed his hand along the waistband of your skirt, the one he loved so much; it looked so good on you, it was so easy to remove. He hooked his deft fingers and slowly slipped them downwards until he met the resistance of the thickest part of your thighs, pushing past before allowing gravity to complete the endeavor. Your senses heightened as he haltingly did the same with your underwear; the slickness of your arousal was untouched but felt, unseen but heard as he peeled off the final barrier covering you, the faint rustling of your underwear dropping onto the flooring marking the definitive end of his task.

Through the reflection, you’d observed Kento’s actions.

Through the reflection, he’d observed you.

Your stomach fluttered with an invigorating sensation, and you thought you could weep in restless anticipation.

“Truth framed in silver,” he said, his tone guileful, his voice growing huskier with each word as he hovered his lips just above your ear, “the mirror never lies.”

The shift in tenor of this encounter was suddenly palpable, and just as you were about to offer your best attempt at a matching response, his arm encircled you at the waist and he pulled you back towards him with a strong press of his fingertips into your hip, sending a jolt that went straight to your core. You caught it all in the reflection, a sight so deliciously distracting that you failed to notice his other hand surreptitiously sliding down between your legs.

Nanami hovered just over you, fingers lightly brushing against where you desired him the most, just long enough for you to suffer the ache of unspent need, just close enough for you to feel the pressure which had built within you and was now left hanging, and he found just enough dampness to gauge how utterly aroused you were. You bucked at the contact, barely stifling an impatient moan, eliciting another low scoff from Nanami, your second warning of the evening.

That Nanami now held the upper hand, and that you would suffer a bit for it.

For a moment, you thought about how quickly the tables had turned in this little back-and-forth. If you were going down, you thought, it wouldn’t be without a fight. Just as you had half a mind to formulate a witty, provocative comment to retain some semblance of a footing in this battle of wits, Nanami slid his middle finger into you, hooking it upward, finding, in record time, the spot he’d long since learned to reduce your body to pure need.

An unbridled, breathy moan cascaded out of your lips, ringing loudly in the charged silence, a sound almost as obscene as the lack of resistance met by his articulate finger, and as the slick sound it made. You didn’t have to look up to feel Nanami’s steady gaze on your face as he took in every last detail of your reaction.

His fingers moved with gentle insistence, picking up a controlled but unrelenting pace. His ring finger joined a short moment later, padded tips rubbing against the most sensitive parts of your walls, moving with intensity, with intent, carrying the express purpose of proving a salient point. The slow pleasure building at the base of your spine had you squirming, incrementally bending down, instinctively going as low as Nanami’s grasp would allow you, his arm otherwise holding you firmly in place.

“Kento…” you whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut as you fought to stay tethered to reality.

“Don’t look away.” It’s another command uttered into your ear, traveling straight between your legs, his tone carrying a slight harshness this time and you opened your eyes, meeting what you knew to be a deeply watchful gaze, even as you only barely began to make out his features through eyes that were still getting accustomed to dimly lit surroundings.

Your head dropped slightly, and your eyes returned to the reflection of his hand and of his fingers. He picked up the pace, his movements growing more dauntless, as if he was putting on a show with an air of nonchalant pride. Your eyes glued to the sight of his calloused fingers repeatedly rubbing against that one sensitive area, the one he’d learned to relentlessly exploit in moments like these, when he both wanted and needed to bring you to a quick undoing.

It was too much; the feeling of Kento’s long fingers working you, the sounds they made and how they mingled with your escalating whimpers; the occasional brush of his palm against you, the sensation of the wet line of kisses he traced from your bare shoulder to the side of your neck, his quickening breath on your exposed skin. You felt all of it, each element inching you closer towards the sweet solace of release after over a week of having to go without.

But what ultimately did it was the reflection in the mirror, the one that granted you an angle you were unused to, a visual whose details you were already committing to memory. There was just something about witnessing his fingers and the way they drove into you, twisting, seeking to unlock the deepest parts of you.

Your knack for ascribing meaning to the abstract concepts, a strength you often leaned on as a teacher, was now squarely working against you, etching indelible associations into your mind.

Like the manifestation of sheer strength earned through repetition and grit, the one Kento drew from to defeat those curses on a regular basis with dexterous swings of his arm, the same strength that now held you against him, the same strength powering his movements.

Or the precision he’d used that first time you’d watched him chop those vegetables in his kitchen, what now felt like eons ago, and how it was analogous to the way he was now driving into you with practiced precision.

Or even the rhythmic pull of the muscle against the edge of the fabric of his shirt sleeve and the way it sat snug on the curve of his forearm, adorned by the gleaming band of his watch, its cool metallic band occasionally brushing against you as he moved.

It was like that distant memory of the first time you’d been taken with the way he’d rolled up his sleeve in that infirmary, a quiet assertion of competence, of power, as he’d prepared to bring his task of filing his report to completion.

And how it was now you that Nanami Kento sought to bring to completion.

It was the last coherent thought you formed before the coil within you finally tightened beyond capacity. You were desperately chasing your imminent release, your hips rocking helplessly against his fingers, against his palm, greedily chasing that friction, and suddenly you were there, right over the edge. Words of warning sat on the tip of your tongue, not quite fully formed, but when your eyes focused on his, you saw the exact moment he read you.

“Tell me how you’ve missed this,” he said, and it was a gentler tone that carried words that appeared to be for him as much as they were for you. “Show me.”

“Fuck, I’m—,” you breathed, trying but failing to catch the thought before it escaped you.

The first part of his request would go unfulfilled; you wouldn’t get the words out, except for a light curse as you were hit with the thrilling force of your release. As for the latter part, he wouldn’t have to ask twice.

You clenched around his fingers, hard, quivering through the breathless cries that fluted up into the air as you tipped your head back into his chest, clutching the arm that was still holding on to you. Nanami gave one insistent final press into your upper wall before stilling and letting you ride out your climax, soft praises in his low voice spilling into your ear, words you could only discern once your moans subsided moments later, once you began to come back to yourself.

When you reopened your eyes, you caught, in the reflection, the intense gaze of the architect of your unraveling and found something familiarly ruthless brimming just beneath the surface.

Nanami was far from being done with you.

The realization sent another tingling between your legs, causing you to inadvertently clench around the fingers you only now registered had remained inside you. After a moment, he began to pull them out in a tantalizingly slow, drag, and you certainly didn’t miss the very deliberate brush of his hand back down against you, your slippery release aiding the downwards slide of his palm, past his wrist and just far enough to feel the ridges of his forearm which formed an unfamiliar but welcome sensation for your muscles to naturally clench around.

It crossed your mind that Kento was being premeditated in his movements, a hypothesis that was almost immediately supported once he rubbed his palm down once, twice, and a third time against your sensitive flesh before pulling away, meeting the slightest resistance as your body instinctively bucked up against his hand, and as it tried to keep a hold on it before he lifted his hand to your eye level. And when he extended the fingers of his hand, moving them slowly, presenting the sheen of your slick on them, showcasing with excruciating detail the mess you’d made on him, you understood that this man was dead set on being particularly relentless this evening.

Nanami leaned deeper over your shoulder, his ear pressed to your cheek, and brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them off, one by one, slowly, meticulously, his eyes fixed on yours through this once innocuous mirror, and all you could do was watch, exhale at the sight, and try not to lose the remainder of your mind at his low hums of satisfaction, at the sloppy sounds of his tongue laving over his fingers, and then down his arm over where he’d just dragged it against you.

A fucking menace.

Once he was through, Kento took half a step back, and you instinctively backed up into his steps, into him, knees feeling a bit shaky as your bare ass met his rigid hardness prominent even through the barriers provided by his pants.

The contact jolted some lucidity back into you, returning your capacity to discern further beyond the shapes reflected to you, to spot the nuances, to study the facial expressions you’d spent the last couple of years learning, a subject you could confidently teach an extensive course on from sheer memory. You could see them now, the small tells you’d picked up on throughout your relationship, evidenced in this particular furrowing of his brows, in the tightness of his jaw, in the way his shoulders were drawn taut in an attempt to contain an inordinate amount of tension. They were the ones confirming that Nanami Kento was also only hanging on by a thread, that maybe you still had a chance to recoup some of your lost ground, that perhaps you shouldn’t count yourself out just yet.

It was a notion that revitalized you.

So you bent over, leaning onto your hands on either side of the mirror’s edge, and pushed back against him, something of a long, most deliberate grind, your bare backside brushing against the fabric of his pants to which he let out an audibly sharp exhale and a small jump back from behind you.

“There you are,” you murmured playfully, releasing a self-contented giggle as you felt him twitch within the confines of his boxers.

You leaned further back, trying to reach him again, seeking to recreate that enticing friction, but Kento was more swift this time around. He caught you, pulling you up and firmly holding you flush against his chest.

“Tell me—” he started, his hot breath causing you to inadvertently buck into him, interrupting him. He steadied himself in recovery, snaking his arm around you and across your chest, returning his mouth to your ear and locking eyes with you once more before resuming. “Tell me, was it honesty from your part when you copped out, that one time I held you like this?”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” you replied defiantly, feigning ignorance of the dire direction in which this conversation was headed.

Because you knew damn well what he was referring to. You’d known it, as soon as Nanami’s arms slid around you from this angle, squeezing the top of your chest in this particular way, the memory of that long weekend at the beach resort came rushing back to you, carrying along with it the feel of warm sand between your toes, the sound of crashing waves, the taste of salt on your lips, and the feeling of coming this close to tipping over even as you were held in place, of falling even as you sat firmly on sand, of vocalizing that one thing you’d wanted from Nanami for a while.

He nipped at your earlobe, bringing you back to attention, before continuing, “Was it honest of you to dangle that carrot, only to pull it all away?”

You scoffed at his playful audacity. “Alright, Kento. Let’s not be revisionist here, I’m not the one who pulled away.”

“Ah, so you do know what I’m talking about. Good. Because never did I think that I would be led on by my own wife,” he said in a tone tinged with mock offence.

“Led on b— Please. Don’t even start. You and I both know you weren’t going to do anything.”

He let out a short, amused chuckle at your indignation, followed by a low hum as his eyebrow shot up in a questioning arc. “Elaborate. What do you mean by “anything”?”

You felt his words pierce through your thin veneer of indifference and land deep inside you, where the truth lay.

“At the beach, Kento? In broad daylight in the early hours of the morning, in public? Yeah, that’s not you,” you retorted, feeling your air of defiance slip with every word. Uncharacteristically off your bantering game, you tried not to wince at your rather meager attempt at evading his question.

“What’s. Not. Me?” He said as he held your gaze, a brazen challenge in his tone as he shifted his arms higher, squeezing tighter with each emphasized word, visibly not falling for your prevarication.

You felt like a weary tightrope walker, precariously swaying above a silent, perceptive audience of one, faltering in this fool’s errand that was the maintenance of this delicate self-imposed balance, tired legs wobbling, begging you to put an end to this self-inflicted turmoil, to give in to gravity and to allow yourself to fall.

Through this damn mirror, you locked eyes with Nanami, finding them heavy with intent.

And suddenly, it wasn’t so dark anymore.

“You want something,” he said softly, not a question but a declaration.

Was it the spark you saw in Kento’s eyes in the moment as he’d cornered you towards the edge of the invisible cliff?

Was it that some of the pent-up tension you’d just released had taken some of your inhibitions along with it, replaced with a hazy, slightly more relaxed perception?

Or was it simply easier to peel away from the safety of timidity into the fire of candor when it was through the artificial buffer of a mirror?

Whatever it was, it had certainly emboldened you.

Here goes everything.

“Mirror never lies, right, Kento?” You’d had no intention of reprising his words when they tumbled out of your mouth in a soft whisper. “So why don’t you tell me what it was that stopped you from finishing what you started, back then at the beach?” you heard yourself say in a tone you barely recognized, tremulous with a blatant, reciprocal lust. “From finally putting me into a real headlock and—”

You cut yourself off just as you witnessed a darkening spark cross Nanami’s eyes, brief but perceptible enough to make your stomach flip. He closed on the remaining space that turned his hold into something closer to the one you’ve been seeking for so long, with the crook of his elbow nuzzling into the base of your throat, just off center, the sensation causing you to squeeze your thighs together, and your heart to pound through your chest.

“And… What else?” he whispered, matching your low volume, warm breath brushing your nape. “Complete that thought for me.”

You shook your head, a motion that was not so much to express your negation as it was to dispel the trance threatening to take over your mind. When you opened your mouth again, an uncontrolled, nervous scoff preceded your words.

“Just answer the question, Nanami.”

You reached your arms behind to hold him on either side of his legs, a blind attempt at maintaining some form of tactile control, realizing only now, how fully clothed he was, versus how you decidedly were not, as you ran your hands over the soft fabric of his trousers; it was a striking manifestation of your positions in this balance of power, in this repartee. You felt his next deep chuckle more than you heard it, but this time you could sense an undercurrent of agitation, of your man’s willpower slipping, palpable, like static before a storm.

And so, you added, “Or will you back out of this too?”

Nanami pushed slightly into you, and you brought your hands back on either side of the mirror, steadying yourself once more.

“I see,” he started. “So you don’t think I can wait you out?” he said, rocking into you in slow movements, the sensation of his rigid length all but contradicting his statement. “You know, I was just thinking about how lucky I got with today’s assignments. Two short missions, a couple of hours each, an in-and-out, really.” He paused to gently move a loose strand of hair that had fallen over your eyes aside. “My day was a cakewalk. But yours? Early morning class, back-to-back training sessions… I’d imagine you’re tired, that you just want to lie down, therefore I’ll just wait, until you inevitably—”

He cut himself off with a hiss that extended into the lowest of groans.

You felt it before you realized that you’d decidedly let the intrusive thought win; the sinking of your teeth, more nibble than bite, into that soft compressed roll of flesh, by the elbow’s bend, just on the inside of Nanami’s arm.

It was what set him into eager motion, and everything moved so quickly after that. You spotted the decisive moment in his eyes, carrying their first visible sign of reciprocal lust.

Nanami released his grip for the first time since you’d entered the apartment, a major concession to his overpowering stance, and you nearly fell forward at the sudden shift. You watched him disappear behind you, into the obscurity of the room, as he seemingly leaned down into something of a lunge. You heard the sound of a heavy drag against the floor, followed by that of objects softly tumbling onto the ground.

“What are you—” you started.

Before you knew it, Nanami caught you by the waist once more, and gently but firmly pulled you aside as he made way for what he was sliding towards the mirror, settling it between the wall and your feet. It took you a moment to discern the distinctive shape of the entryway bench that had long graced the entrance of your home, a small navy blue couch, upholstered in supple leather, stylish in appearance, dual in it’s practicality, of serving as a spot to sit while putting on the shoes that it now clearly no longer held.

You lifted your gaze towards the mirror, and found something eagerly desirous having replaced the playful front Nanami had managed to hold thus far; if you were silently telegraphing your keenness, he was responding in kind, his eyes not leaving yours as he gently nudged you forward, your feet lifting to hang over the edge of the small couch as you kneeled onto it.

He held your gaze still, and instead of perceiving his movements, you were left to rely on the sound of a sharp metallic clink resounding loudly in the silence, followed closely by the distinctive whispery rasp of his leather belt gliding against a thick fabric and punctuated with a brisk zipper sound. When he settled behind you, returning to the proximity you’d gotten accustomed to, Kento was armed with a familiar, damp hardness that you felt on the small of your back.

For as uncharted as the territory of this angle was, you both moved wordlessly, as if this was a well-practiced dance. You lowered yourself to bring your palms flat onto the bench, your hands sliding across the smooth leather. You aligned your back, lifting your hips up and spreading your knees apart, just enough to feel an aching breeze on your core.

Nanami climbed in earnest behind you, teasing his tip right against where his fingers had worked you a mere few minutes earlier, a slow, torturous, repeated motion he relished in for some long, excruciating seconds. You whimpered in lament, struggling to deploy the words of defense and mercy dancing on the edge of your tongue. Only when you began to squirm did he place his left palm on your back, holding you in place as he began to steadily press into you, inch by inch, until he filled you, deliciously so. Short, breathy moans escaped your lips with each press, and they were met with a low, restrained hum emanating from your lover, as you adjusted to the thick, welcomed intrusion, and he waited for you as you did.

After a moment, you were practically vibrating with an unabashed need for friction, something he caught on to. He pulled you at the hips, bringing your back flush onto his chest, keeping you both on your knees. You could now admit that you both loved and hated this mirror, for the newfound angle it gave you as you watched Kento’s right hand slide up from your hips, slowly, torturously caressing you along the way, kneading the fleshy skin that sat on the side of your breast, up until his arm found its gratifying destination.

This time around, there was no half-measure when Nanami hooked his arm just below your throat, constricting you with the right amount of pressure that allowed you ample ability to breathe, but that would deny any movement beyond that, something you realized as your back arched instinctively both at the anticipation and at the actual hold. Despite having barely moved since he entered you, you could feel your pleasure mounting exponentially.

Your eyes met once more, and you realized that he’d been keenly observing you, studying your face as you went through all these motions. While his gaze was electrifying, you saw hints of the Kento you knew surfacing, burning with lust and love, always prioritizing your pleasure, your well-being. And there it was, conveyed through the simplicity of a glance, the truth that wasn’t a safer place on earth to be.

You watched the corners of his mouth twist up into a soft smile, a crinkle in his eyes which spoke equal parts of mischief and affection, forming quite the juxtaposition with the successive prompts he threw at your reflection.

“You enjoy this, don’t you. Whenever I wrap my arms around you? When I hold you like this, while I’m inside you?”

There was a newfound roughness in Nanami’s voice as he emphasized the last word with a tightening of his right arm around you, along with a deep press of his left hand fingers into your hips. You moaned and bucked your hips at the combined sensations, at the implication, the truth, the underlying desire of words said in such an even tone. You were intent on pushing him to give you what you needed, but he held firm, granting you only half of what you craved with this hold, completely denying you the motion portion of this equation you’d grown so desperate to solve.

“Tell me, honestly,” he emphasized employing the word that had become the refrain of the evening, “Let me hear you, my love.” It was quite discernible now, even in this compromising position that had you at his mercy; the thick lust in his voice, reminding you that the effect he was having on you was not so one-sided, and that he needed to hear you, just as much as he wanted to.

“Yes…Yes, I do,” you breathed, words slipping out as a ragged exhale, and you felt a sting of tears at the sudden intensity of a confession you’ve carried too long, one you somehow could only bring yourself to make in this current moment.

“Yes, you do,” Nanami repeated, his voice reduced to a low hum, but you could hear his approving smile even as he tried to conceal it, his eyes fixing you as though to speak to the deepest parts of your soul. “That’s my girl.”

You keened at his praise, your legs reflexively twitching with a forceful movement that sent the weight of your body shifting precariously off to the side. You let out a gasp, expecting to tip over before Nanami strengthened his hold and repositioned you back firmly onto him, pinning you down by keeping one arm around your chest, and the other encircling your waist. The new angle pushed him deeper still into you, eliciting a whimper from you and a whisper from him, words traveling directly into your ear.

“Let’s not fall now,” he said, in a tone that was already softer, palpably affectionate, “not yet.”

Always there to catch you.

It ruined you beautifully, in the moment, the fact that Nanami had not only mastered the art it was to rile you up, but he’d also long since known about this particular little inclination you’ve carried since forever, that he’d sat on this power, his teasing dispensed as an excruciatingly slow, intensifying burn over the last few months.

None of it mattered now, because he began to move and despite the unmistakable eagerness dripping from both of you, Nanami took his time in taking you from stillness to stride, setting off in a carefully slow but powerful pace as he drove himself into you.

And fuck, did it feel so good.

He rocked his hips into you as you rutted back against him, as much as your limited range of motion allowed you, at this foreign angle that did not take away from the familiarity of this dance. 

You squirmed as he drove into you with incredible precision, gradually picking up the tempo with each stroke, his measured gaze never leaving you, and even in the throes of escalating rapture, you discerned a strain in his expression, carrying an undercurrent of something carnal. You were panting, trying to catch your breath as he moved you against his hips effortlessly, making you feel each thick inch as his arm applied a deliciously punctual pressure against your upper chest with every thrust.

It felt both rough and tender. The visual was doing so much for you, too much, but still you fought the urge to shut your eyes for the umpteenth time to ground yourself, and Nanami caught this, attentive as ever.

“Stay with me,” he said, as he squeezed you ever so slightly to get your attention, your muscles immediately clenched around him in response, and he groaned at your reflexive reaction, renewing his intention of keeping up the pressure and on keeping you contained until he’d achieved his singular objective.

Your eyes desperately searched for a focal point, landing on themselves in the mirror’s reflection. You barely recognized the woman it presented, hair wildly disheveled, makeup sensually smeared just like as you barely distinguished your voice, with the wanton moans and the vocalized feedback aimed at the man in the reflection, as you told him how good he was making you feel, as you asked him to go harder, and as you let him know that he’d found it right there, the perfect spot, just like he always did. You’d grown more vocal, loud enough to be heard over the increasingly rhythmic slapping sound of your skin against his, and to match the volume of the words Kento was in turn, directing at you, words that only belonged to you and that bound you to him in ways that transcended what your bodies could ever achieve.

You felt yourself unraveling, your pleasure mounting as you visually took in the intimate spectacle unfolding in front of your eyes. Nanami was attuned to you like a piano string was to its tuning fork. He’d learned to find the things that made you tick and where you needed him the most. He’d practiced how to calibrate himself to the right rhythm, to the perfect angles, using your expressive reactions as his North Star. And in the same way he’d learned all this, he could always tell when you were close to climax, just as you were now.

“Let go for me, my love,” he whispered to your reflection, his voice rough with need.

The thunderstorm of pleasure had long been on the horizon, but that first cold ripping sensation of lightning always caught you by surprise. Your body pulled taut with gratification, and you came, quicker and louder than the first time, convulsing at the rapturous intensity of your orgasm, your pleasure hitting you in waves, trapped, constricted, with nowhere to go but in on itself. You tried to cling to your vague awareness of Nanami’s gentle coaxing, to his encouraging words as he nibbled at the shell of your ear and saw you to completion, his thrusts slightly relenting in tempo but not in intensity.

When you came to, it was to witness your slumped body leaning against your husband, breath still evening, and you could not help the smile gracing your lips, and the joyous delirium it manifested. His grip had loosened by now, and he was stilled, but still inside you, his chin resting on your shoulder as he watched you.

Nanami’s wonderful arms lowered to hold you at the hips again, and you gripped them, leaning on them as you tilted your face backwards and to the side, and you caught his lips in a searing kiss, one that was slower, lazier but also so dizzying, the only reminder of your predicament was the instinctual roll of your hips and the clenching that came along with it as the kiss deepened.

After what felt like long, radiant minutes, he brought you both down onto the small couch and gently broke the kiss to turn you over at the hips, lowering you onto your back in a single, swift movement. You felt his weight carefully sit atop you as he straddled you at the waist.

You peered up at Kento, at your beautiful man, a thin sliver of light slipping through a narrow gap in the window curtain ethereally bisecting his face in a golden diagonal path that illuminated his left eye, over the bridge of his nose, and gliding down the hollow of his right cheek. He was still clothed, except for his unzipped pants; still relatively composed, barring his rumpled shirt, his tousled hair, and the lipstick marks smudged on and around his lips and down the side of his jaw.

You could detect it, as clear as day, that something had switched within him. Gone was the playful, mischievous man who wanted to prove a point, who sought to get the last word, who endeavored to wring an admission out of you in the name of the little teasing game you’d both slipped into. Replacing him was a more heartfelt iteration of himself, the one you knew to be less relentless but no less restrained in his passion, and who would aim to both come and watch you come, face to face, where he could read you, like his favorite book.

Nanami sat back on his knees, looping his finger into the knot of his tie, loosening it just enough, in the way he knew you loved to watch him do. He took your hands into his and brought them to the dangling silk fabric, finally letting you complete this task, finally indulging you in yet another small fixation.

Kento looked down at you, running a finger along your deep-toned cheek, and for the first time in this encounter, he grounded himself in the moment. There had been a time, in a not-so-distant past, when he would feel almost guilty on occasions like this, whenever he’d found himself yielding to the warm, effervescent energy that surged from his chest.

For so long, choosing happiness while being ensconced in this particular field of work felt nothing short of selfish, foolish, and delusional. But somewhere along the lines, Nanami had become an inadvertent student of yours, and what he’d learned was that there was a deeply repressed side of him, silently yearning for a sliver of the joy he’d worked so hard convincing himself he didn’t need.

Teacher to many, even to him in some ways; you’d been the one who’d forced him to confront the fact that the line delineating blind selflessness from being a coping mechanism was as thin as it was blurry. There was a certain pattern of behaviors, one that saw Nanami conceal survival in virtue, that you’d called him out on quite a few occasions. 

A late-night phone call in your early days together that had you both up way past your usual bedtimes. 

A lunch date while picking up the emotional pieces after a tough mission. 

An argument the two of you had, after you’d called him out just as he was about to slip into what he could now retrospectively admit to be this self-preserving cocoon of self-sacrifice, call-outs he knew deep down to be true, to be well-intentioned in their objective of saving him from himself, and for which, after some self-reflection, he loved their messenger all the more.

But sometimes, Nanami’s appetite for what had long eluded him surfaced in a simpler form, like the one of a man and his lover, happy to be reunited after several days of work getting in the damn way.

And now, Nanami chose happiness. 

Now, he’d allow himself to have this one thing.

“Hey, handsome…” you started, pulling him back to the present as you brought a finger up to his cheek and lightly poked at it, “You good?”

The corners of his lips twisted into a tired smile, and his response first came as a gentle, reverent kiss on your forehead. Then your temple. The outer corner of your eye. The top of your cheek. He spoke in between each of these, over a week’s worth of tension, of stress and frustration defused into sincere words.

“So many… fucking... assignments... I… I’m sorry,” he said solemnly, and the vulnerability in his tone was audibly palpable to you. His words suddenly reminded you of the way this had all started, about the yearning and eagerness you had for one another after a dreadful few days of going without.

“I know... Not your fault,” you said quietly.

“I’m here now… Not leaving…” he continued, as his lips moved down to your jaw, to the pulse on your neck.

“You’re here, Kento,” you whispered, words that you hoped could reassure him as much as they did you.

Nanami rose slightly onto his knees, positioning himself between your legs. You felt him pause briefly, right at the edge of entering you once more. With a shuddering sigh, he slipped back into you with silky swiftness. You moaned at this first thrust, as he pushed firmly into you, holding himself in the deepest part of your core for a moment before moving again. This time, Nanami was less verbal, more focused; you were less pent up, more present, more sensitive to the way he poured his feelings into you, pure passion conveyed through his movements.

You knew of this demeanor well, of this determination set in his eyes; the express intention of keeping himself just on the edge, of delaying, of denying himself the solace of release until he could wring one more orgasm out of you, and directly watch you fall apart for him.

Always so considerate. Always so stubborn. Could he not give in for just this once?

“So good, Kento,” you managed to get out, shifting the rest of your energy towards a mission of your own, of coaxing him to finally let go and to finally finish inside you. You writhed up to meet him halfway, desperate to have him bury into you, clamping down around him every time he pulled out of you, feeling your determination and pleasure mounting in tandem.

Your eyes met and Nanami must have detected your intentions because he shut his closed, eyebrows knitting in concentration as he sat back onto his knees and pulled you by the hips, maneuvering you closer to him with one hand and reaching to palm your breast with the other, doubling down on his own objective of bringing you to your release.

You waited until he moved to switch his attention to your other breast before you grabbed his hand, brushing it up against your throat, and you felt Kento’s fingers hover over its column just as your mind did over the idea of settling them there; an intrusive thought you would have allowed yourself to verbalize, had you not embarked on a different mission of your own. Instead, you enlaced your fingers with Kento’s and pulled his arm, brushing it against your lips, nibbling over his wrist, over his forearm, eyes still on him as you watched him barely withhold a hiss at the contact, visibly hanging on to his composure by a thread.

And for the second time that evening, you closed a soft bite over his arm.

Kento’s eyes snapped open and locked onto yours with a searing intensity that made your breath catch, and you found, etched into the depths of his gaze, a silent yet familiar narrative of unraveling, one you could cite chapter and verse.

You watched as his initial shock bled into amusement, a reaction attesting not to a fluke but to an affinity, a path newly discovered, a new door unlocked. You felt yourself teetering dangerously on the edge of your own release, thighs quivering as your mind registered Nanami’s peculiar reaction to his arm under your teeth.

“That’s not fair. You can’t do this,” he said with a breathy chuckle.

“Then stop me,” you whispered back, your tone laced with provocation as your lips nibbled over his arm, your teeth just barely grazing him.

Nanami was still watching you, still resolved to maintain his composure, but you could feel it in the way his pace picked up, his thrusts now slightly more erratic, slightly less precise. You knew he was close, as sure as you knew what it would take to tip him over.

You bit down again, a bit more forcefully this time, and he let out a guttural groan in response, as he watched you through half-lidded eyes, desperately using what remained of his will to keep his eyes on yours, as he always did.

“Please, please fill me, Kento,” you moaned, your play at speaking to his depths, your final attempt at coaxing him to come with you, wiggling your hips as they came up against his, throwing everything at the wall, anything to take him with you as you spasmed with the eagerness of your pleasure and barrelled towards your release.

“Fuck,” Nanami cursed with a hiss, as he yanked his arm away from you and pinned both your hands on either side of your head, his fingers interlacing yours as he leaned his head down to your level, shifting all of his weight to his hips, sinking deeper into you. The dam was finally breaking, his rhythm faltering recklessly, his hips a stuttering pace, finding a tempo that smoothed into the pure, mutual longing you’ve had to keep at bay for over a week. You felt the bench slide and shift under his forceful thrusts. 

And when Nanami choked your name against your lips, it was with a reverence that eclipsed any other form of praise he could muster.

You vaguely heard yourself begging him greedily, praising him deliriously, thanking him sincerely until you cut yourself off with your own long, unabashed moan just as you tipped over the edge. You wrapped your legs around Kento’s waist, bringing the balls of your feet to the small of his back and arching deeply into him, clenching onto him as you quaked through another rippling climax.

And now, you felt it. Now, the paragon of self-control that Nanami Kento was would finally yield to the limits of his restraint.

Nanami held you down in place in a firm hold, and huffed out a short scoff followed by a low grunt. He gave a brisk, fluid double thrust before he spent himself into you, his release coming as hard and long as the groan that ripped through his lips as he pressed and held his hips to yours. A shiver of pleasure shook you, your hips bucking into his instinctively as you felt each pulsing tremor of his release sputtering deep inside you. You opened your eyes to catch a quick glimpse of his face inches from yours, his eyes glazed over, his smile soft, satisfied, spent. You felt a blooming sensation in your heart as you witnessed Kento arrive at the destination he so deserved. This right here, you thought, was your antidote to everything.

It always was a deliciously nebulous feeling, and this time was no exception; you’d tried it countless times before, to temporally orient yourself within the first minutes that followed Kento taking you to orbit and back like this, always finding yourself unable to know how long you’d stayed in place like you did now, with his full weight on your body, still deep inside you. How long did it take for your fingertips to make the full journey spanning the small of his back to the nape of his neck, stroking feather-light touches that glided slick with sweat, until they found his undercut, right where his hair clipped close and where his scalp was the warmest to touch? You both lay there for a moment, as your breaths slowed, basking in the aftermath of a most sincere act of love.

Lost in a hazy fog, you’d nearly forgotten where you were until the metallic clang of your ring hitting the bench leg as your hand hung off to the side jolted you back to reality. You absentmindedly ran your hands along the leathery texture, only for the time it would take for your thoughts to flit back to a blurry memory that clung to the edges of your mind.

Several months prior, one of your nightly strolls together finds you and Kento in a boutique furniture store. You’re seated on the plush leather entryway bench that caught your eye as soon as you entered the shop.

“Look. This thing is comfortable as they come, doubles as a shoe rack, good quality, and it’s on sale? I’d say it’s a solid buy,“ you say.

Nanami hums softly, in contemplation. “This isn’t just you wanting it for yourself, is it?”

“This is for your apartment, Nanami.”

“It is, but with the amount of time you’ve been spending there…”

“Oh, so I’m overstaying my welcome now? Is that what I’m hearing?”

“Don’t do this. You already know you’d be over more often if you’d let me have it my way.”

“Well, any more and I would be living there.”

“Perhaps you should be,” he says, his tone devoid of jest.

You pause at the implication of his words. “Is this your not-so-subtle way of soft launching cohabitation, Kento?”

“And if it is?”

You turn on your half of the small couch, rotating your body towards him, and you find him fixing you, serious as ever. You narrow your eyes at him. “Really? Despite what has to happen first?”

“Specifically because of what has to happen first.”

It’s a commitment he makes so easily, as if it is the most natural thing to say, in the middle of a random furniture shop after an impromptu leisurely weeknight walk and some froyo.

You brought your hand back up in the air, your contemplation bringing you to fix your wedding ring on your finger, as you lay your back on this small cushioned bench, which you now recognize to be quite the symbolizer of a new beginning, even tonight, in a twisted, unusual way.

“Are you alright, darling?” Nanami’s voice reached the foreground in your distant haziness.

Silly, idle thoughts converted into your response before you could stop them.

“We just made another use for it…”

“Hmm?” he mumbled against your ear, where his lips still rested. “Another use for what?”

“This little bench of ours. Doubles as a shoe rack, triples as…” You trailed off, letting the suggestive connotation hang in the air.

“A good investment,” he concluded after a short moment with a light, almost timid chuckle, as if he hadn’t yanked the piece of furniture himself, just minutes ago, as if he hadn’t just boldly taken you on it.

You mirrored his amusement as you reveled in your amazement at the diametrically opposed dualities of this man. Because now it was the more tempered version of your Kento resurfacing, the one who left a gentle trail of kisses that were as wet and hot as the fluid spilling off the sides of your thighs as he slowly slipped out of you, and shifted off of you. Nanami brought his lips to yours in a play to swallow the inevitable whimper he knew you’d emit, your usual protest at this kind of friction and its resulting loss of contact.

“Stay here…” he instructed softly, as he peeled himself off the bench.

And this is how you found yourself lying on your back, staring at the suddenly mesmerizing portion of the vestibule ceiling you’d never had the opportunity to pay particular attention to. Your eyes were here, tracing its unfamiliar pattern, but mentally you were tracing another line, the one which took you from that fateful first encounter at the infirmary, what feels like forever ago now, to the present moment that had you catching your breath and chuckling to yourself in both disbelief and contentment.

In retrospect, this fixation with his arms was so silly. In the grand scheme of things, it was so small. It always was the small things with Nanami. Like the way he tends to keep his footsteps light, like he was doing now, as he crossed the distance to the master bathroom, and flicked the lights on along the way. Or the gentleness of his movements as he reemerged in your field of view for the time it took to help you sit up and handed you a glass of water before disappearing as he crouched down beside you, bringing a warm damp cloth to clean you up, soothingly stroking his fingers along your shoulder as he did so.

You finally turned to meet his gaze, your mind still in a haze, and you watched as he moved swiftly, wordlessly sliding his two arms underneath you to lift you up, carrying you bridal style.

It’s the small things, but also everything else.

Because it wasn’t a small thing, that all of the dangers in the world lay outside this door, outside this room, the fact that right now, wrapped in these wonderful arms of his, is where you felt the safest.

It was no small thing that all of your worries, all of your troubles, all of your insecurities, could be cast aside in his presence, granting you a kind of freedom that was so difficult to hold on to while around others, the one to unapologetically be yourself.

It’s not a small thing, that even now, as you let your hand travel up the firm planes of Nanami’s pecs, up to his defined collarbone, over the beautiful curve of his shoulder and down his sculpted bicep, that not even this warmth and strength came close to accurately representing the full sense of safety you felt with him.

It was a safety that went far beyond the physical; for as cautious as you’d always been around shedding your inhibitions, for as nervous you were about opening yet another layer of yourself, to confidently accept yourself and to allow yourself to be accepted, there wasn’t a single person on this planet that you could trust more.

It made you wonder if you would ever be equipped to justly convey such a precious feeling.

You pressed your cheek against Kento’s chest, listening to his breathing and his heartbeat as he maneuvered across the apartment towards the master bathroom.

“You enjoyed that a little too much,” you said, finally breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between you.

“What part? You’ll have to be more specific,” he playfully replied as he glanced down at you.

“You love tormenting me.”

“Tormenting you? Need I remind you that it was, in fact, you who started this?”

“No, you started it, with that kiss at the school. Never had you do that before.”

“Oh, am I not allowed to miss my wife?”

“Ah, so you did miss me. Finally, he’s honest.”

Nanami gently eased you down on the bathroom floor, right next to the bathtub, which was still filling up, and just in front of the mirror, through which your eyes met.

“It’s not my fault we seem to need a mirror to be candid with one another,” he said with a smirk.

He wrapped his arms around you once more, hugging you from behind. They were relatively small, but in the bright overhead ceiling light, they were prominent; you brought your fingers up them, to the small bite marks on his forearm.

“Tread lightly, Kento,” you started in a reciprocal tone, “This is a two-player game now.”

Nanami knew this well, and for this, too, he would be grateful.

A/N: You made it! Thank you for reading! <3

[redpill-tfs]

Red Wave Rapture

Inspired by the work of @transform4u and his #RedWaveRapture series

Logan slouched on the couch, idly scrolling through his phone. His uncle, Don, stood in the doorway, a familiar expression of exasperation and disappointment on his face.

"Look at you," Don said, shaking his head. "Eighteen years old, just graduated, and doing... nothing."

"I’m figuring things out," Logan muttered, not looking up from his screen.

"Yeah? Figuring out how to waste your life?" Don retorted, stepping into the living room. "You don’t have a job, you don’t have a plan, and frankly, you don’t have any direction. You’re living in my house, eating my food, and playing activist online. That’s not going to cut it, Logan."

Logan groaned and put his phone down. "Here we go again. You’re mad because I’m not living up to your big, conservative expectations."

Don’s face hardened. "Let’s get one thing straight: I’ve tried to be patient with you, but your whole ‘I’m gay and proud’ thing? I don’t get it. Never have, never will. And this whole aimless, rebellious phase of yours isn’t helping anything."

Logan glared at him. "My ‘phase’ isn’t going anywhere. You can be disappointed all you want, but I’m not changing who I am."

Don smirked. "You’re right; I can’t change who you are. But maybe discipline can. Let’s make a bet. You’ve got one month to find a job and stick with it. If you can’t, you’re enrolling in the police academy. Maybe some structure and pride in something bigger than yourself will do you good."

Logan rolled his eyes. "Yeah, like I’d ever wear one of those uniforms. Deal. But when I win, you’re going to drop this whole cop thing and let me live my life."

"Fine," Don said, offering his hand. Logan shook it, determined to prove him wrong.

Four weeks later, Logan sat in the passenger seat of Don’s car, his arms crossed as they pulled into the police academy parking lot.

"Guess what?" Don said, his tone smug. "You didn’t get a job, so now it’s time to face the music."

"This is stupid," Logan muttered. "I don’t belong here."

"You belong somewhere, and right now, that’s here," Don said firmly. "Who knows? Maybe you’ll surprise yourself."

The academy’s orientation was every bit as rigid and overwhelming as Logan had feared. The other recruits were clean-cut, driven, and eager to prove themselves, while Logan stuck out like a sore thumb in his skinny jeans and rainbow wristband.

By mid-afternoon, the recruits were herded into a dimly lit auditorium. A commanding instructor addressed the room.

"Recruits," he began, "this is the beginning of your journey. The video you’re about to watch is a core part of your orientation. It’s called Red Wave Rapture, and it will help you understand what it means to be one of us."

Logan stifled a groan as the lights dimmed and the projector flickered to life.

The video began innocuously enough—majestic images of American landscapes, stirring orchestral music, and a deep, commanding narrator’s voice.

"Strength. Honor. Duty," the voice intoned. "These are the values that define us as officers. These are the pillars upon which our nation stands."

Logan smirked at the blatant patriotism but found himself strangely unable to look away. The imagery shifted to officers walking proudly through their communities, citizens cheering them on.

The narrator’s voice seemed to grow louder, more insistent. "You were born for this. To protect. To serve. To stand as a beacon of integrity and strength in a world that needs heroes."

Logan’s smirk faltered. A strange warmth spread through his chest, and his breathing slowed as the words seemed to penetrate his mind.

"Let go of doubt," the voice continued. "Let go of weakness. Embrace your destiny."

Logan’s gaze fixed on the screen as the images and words washed over him. The rainbow wristband on his arm caught his eye, and for the first time, it felt out of place.

"You are no longer an individual," the narrator declared. "You are part of the Red Wave, united by duty and honor."

Logan felt a strange, undeniable pull, as though the words were reshaping him from the inside out.

The images on the screen shifted to young recruits stepping into their uniforms, their expressions proud and confident. Logan could almost see himself in their place, wearing the uniform, standing tall, and exuding pride.

"Rise," the narrator commanded. "Rise and become who you were always meant to be."

Logan’s body tensed as a surge of energy coursed through him. His thoughts swirled, and his resistance crumbled under the relentless rhythm of the narrator’s voice.

When the lights came back on, Logan blinked, disoriented. He glanced down at his wristband, removed it without a second thought, and slipped it into his pocket.

By the end of the day, Logan had changed in ways that startled even him. He volunteered for every exercise, pushed himself harder than he ever thought possible, and began forming bonds with his fellow recruits.

That evening, Don met him at home with a curious look.

"How was your first day?" Don asked, sipping his coffee.

Logan’s posture was straighter, his expression more serious. "It was... eye-opening. I think I was wrong about this place. It’s exactly what I needed."

Don raised an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised. "Well, I’ll be damned. Maybe there’s hope for you after all."

Logan hesitated, then added, "And, uh... about the other stuff. You were right about that, too. It doesn’t really fit who I’m becoming." He took his rainbow wristband and threw it in the trashcan.

Don’s face broke into a grin. "Now that’s what I like to hear."

Over the following weeks, Logan’s transformation continued. He excelled in his training, adopted a clean-cut appearance, and fully embraced the academy’s values. His once vibrant and outspoken personality gave way to a disciplined, no-nonsense demeanor.

More than that, his priorities had shifted entirely. He no longer identified with his old self, instead finding pride and purpose in his role as a recruit. His previous liberal and rebellious views seemed laughable now, relics of a misguided youth.

Graduation day arrived quickly, and Logan stood tall in his new uniform, his badge gleaming on his chest. Don stood in the audience, beaming with pride.

After the ceremony, Don pulled him aside.

"Look at you," he said, shaking his head in amazement. "You’re everything I hoped you’d become."

Logan smiled, his stance confident and assured. "Thanks, Uncle Don. I couldn’t have done it without you."

"And I wouldn’t want it any other way," Don replied, clapping him on the shoulder.

Logan posed for a photo in front of a big American flag, standing proudly in his uniform. As Don looked at the image, he felt a deep sense of satisfaction.

His nephew was no longer the aimless, defiant gay boy he had taken in. He was now a man of discipline, duty, and conservatism—a man Don could be proud to call family.

And for Logan, the uniform didn’t just represent his new role. It represented his transformation, a testament to the strength and pride he had discovered within himself.

[cleapallea]

master list + More

𐙚 𝗘𝗠𝗣𝗧𝗬 𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗡𝗘𝗧𝗦𐙚

& how you can make income! 🤑

Is empty house means empty wallet?

There are 12 sectors (zodiac sign + house) in astrology that reflect different aspects of your life. At this point, if you have planets in 12 houses, a planet being in that house as well as the rulers means you should have more focus in that area. For example, too many planets (2) in a tenth house with Venus aspects or rulers (Taurus and Libra) signifies that your career might be related to Venus qualities such as modeling, rebranding, or makeup (products, tutorials, etc.). Hence, I know some of you might ask: So what to do if none?

Empty Planet in 1st house

Aries: self image, rebranding and investing

Empty Planet in 2nd house

Taurus: depends on your own efforts. Kinda Similiar to 1st.

Empty Planet in 3rd House

Gemini: Person's activity, and investment (education, training and self development -professional)

Example: Graphic Designer, Artworks related, Freelance writer and etc

Empty Planet in 4th house

Cancer: Anything related to fostering homes, and building connections (social network)

Example: adopting a dog (female), and let them grow after that you can sell her puppies. Or you can build a pets/ poultry suppliers.

Empty Planet in 5th house

Leo: Anything related to pleasure, wholesome stuff, makes you happy and alive, self-expression, recreation, and innovation.

Example: Build a program (school, playground, or be a Yaya for a day) and alike

Empty Planet in 6th house

Virgo: anything related to health, wellness, and daily routines

Example: Be secretary, write a blog about health and wellness, Be a Yoga instructor, or Drugs Cashier in some malls, teacher and more.

Empty Planet in 7th house

Libra: anything related to partnership, business and interest in society as a whole.

Example: Be an event planner, teacher, or social media influencer starts to sell your self in social media.

Empty Planet in 8th house

Scorpio: money houses, long term success or growth career, real state investments and financial portfolios

Example: rentals of your personal collection like shoes, etc.

Empty Planet in 9th house

Sagittarius: Travel, higher learning, personal philosophy, exploration and intellect

Example: You may consider writing a story or list of quotes on a known website and look for a small publisher until you get recognized. You can also Teach foreign ppl in diff countries to use other languages.

Empty Planet in 10th house

Capricorn: public image, career aspiration and achievement, and more on ppl oriented.

Example: vlogger, streamer, content creator, YouTuber and alike

Empty Planet in 11th house

Aquarius: humanitarian and personal networks. Anything that may show your passion and interest in specific content.

Example: musician, or be friends with famous people (they can help you a lot), then let them see your talents. I've known a lot of Aquarius placements tend to be very talented. You just have to precise and be stick with good purpose cause double karma occurs if you're not.

Empty Planet in 12th house

Pisces: Mysterious side of humanity, mind, and life

Example: be a tarot reader, practice gambling, or any creative outlets.

✎ There are no such things as empty planets. The empty planets are ruled by the "lord" or "zodiac signs" inside them. Although I don't really believe it's not your main focus but more in IT'S YOUR HIDDEN GOAL AND SUCCESS, I've heard a lot of women who have their second house empty, but years later become rich due to partnerships, investments in education, and such. We have this called "transitting of each sign."

✎ take note that this is not a dynamic and astrology is about multifaceted interpretation. The question of where and what you can do to make money can vary depending on the whole system of your chart (aside from your energy). For me, I need to see the whole birth chart before I give the exact meaning of it. Every chart is different, so I can't provide full, detailed information about it.

✎You have to look for your MC (signs), Jupiter house +signs (power), Saturn (warnings/challenges occur) and Moon placed (for reminder why you started, why you need to work something like that) if you don't like your moon, then look for your south code. Or if you dont know how to start, look for the (Pluto). Find inspiration in everything :) God bless!

Plagiarism is A crime.

[ghostaholics]

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐘 𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐂

➸ PAIRING: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x gn!Reader ➸ TAGS/WARNING(S): none ➸ BANNER CREDIT: cafekitsune & benkeibear

Detail-oriented, exceptional manual dexterity when it comes to sewing him up. Your movements are careful and controlled – meticulous with regards to everything that you do but especially focused on how the edges line up so that they don’t overlap. Other medics – they'll rush. Botch it. A shoddy job like tectonic plates of skin forced to converge on each other, because in his line of work, stitches are an afterthought when there's another bloke with a sucking chest wound whose deep in the throes of respiratory distress and the only immediate threat about Ghost's own injury is the small amount of blood he'll lose. Whatever will get it closed. Nobody else cares much about the cosmetic factor. But you do. Painstakingly so. It's a thankless job to spend three times longer than it should to get it right, but he makes sure to express his appreciation for the consideration you put into every single graze/cut/gash (even more diligent if the injury's to any part of his arm that could mess up his tattoo sleeve). They always heal nicely.

He looks for you, after-hours – well late into the night because you were occupied patching up other soldiers. It'd been a grueling mission, lots of WIAs needing your attention. He doesn't even have a good excuse for this. It's a trivial thing, maybe, to bother you. Like asking Atlas for a favour, with the weight of the world on your shoulders and the soul-crushing responsibility of holding lives in the palms of your hands as though you're the last line of defense against death. This is stupid. This is beyond fucking stupid of him. Almost turns around and walks away from the medical tent, because that's how ridiculous it is. But he convinces himself to head in, asking if you can fix the stitching on his mask because the only person he trusts more than himself to do it is you. Though his request is benign, the significance behind it is profound in ways that he won't admit to himself. There are very few people he can count on. And of course, you say yes with a tired smile and a brightness in your eyes that never seems to dull in front of him no matter how exhausted you might be. It's one of the rare instance he lets his guard down, shows his face. He keeps you company the entire time, telling you about why he wears that mask while you restore it back to original condition.

The irony of having an injured medic: Simon's saddled with the pitiful task of having to step into your role because there's a gash on your forearm that needs to be taken care of. He knows how to do a basic stitch – is fairly confident that he can thread the sutures just like you’d showed him a million times by now whenever he’d been looking for a reason to see you ( ❝ Show me how to do it right. The proper way, yeah? ❞ ). And he's admonishing you to hold still, except it's sort of difficult when you're being treated like a bloody pincushion. He'd never let anybody else get away with making fun of him for that but this is you so he lets it slide. After talking him through it (which you find quite odd, considering that he never would've struck you as someone who’d need extra time and help), you inspect his handiwork, mildly impressed.

❝ Oh, you actually... well, you did quite a decent job. ❞ ❝ Of course. ❞ Because he wouldn't settle for anything less than perfecti— ❝ But then again, it is a little off over here, ❞ you point out, just to deflate his pride. There's still smugness to his tone. ❝ Would you like me to start over, then? ❞ ❝ Not on your life, Riley. ❞

He doesn’t mention how phenomenal he is at suturing, doesn’t mention that he sat in on a class for combat specialists early on in his career even though he didn't need to be there and was commended for his technique by the leading instructor. He definitely doesn't bring up the fact that he's been taking long on purpose just because he likes your company.

[princeloww]

DAVID TENNANT ROLES STARTERPACK

(Different roles, where to find them and what they're like!!!) (+ more that I didn't go into included at the end)

*disclaimer: this is sort of UK orientated, 'cos I don't know any American streaming services or where stuff is available in other countries, so PLEASE comment other places you can watch things!!!!

- Takin' Over the Asylum (CAMPBELL BAIN)

Follows a DJ and a group of patients trying to keep a radio station going in a mental hospital. David plays one of the main characters, Campbell Bain, a mostly upbeat and energetic young boy with lots of enthusiasm and spirit. Some angst!

☆ YOUTUBE (free)

- Blackpool (PETER CARLISLE)

A body is found in an arcade run by Ripley Holden, and him and his entire family are pulled into the murder investigation surrounding it. DI Peter Carlisle is working on the case, and highly suspicious of Ripley. He's a pretty major character and has a romantic plot - as well as a few funny musical numbers. Includes sex scenes.

☆ UKTV PLAY (free in UK), AMAZON PRIME VIDEO

- Casanova (GIACOMO CASANOVA)

The (mostly sexual) adventures of Giacomo Casanova, a charming and fraudulent man who falls in love very quickly and very dramatically with a lot of people, all while essentially bullshitting through life and jumping on every opportunity to make money. Includes sex scenes but also angst, such as illness, injuries, some violence, and general suffering.

☆ MYFLIXERX.TO (free), AMAZON

- Recovery (ALAN HAMILTON)

A man and his family coping with the recovery and rehabilitation process after he (Alan, David Tennant) suffers from brain damage. Angsty. Lots of crying, suicide references, head injury stuff.

☆ YOUTUBE (free)

- Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (BARTY CROUCH JR)

I recommend pirating this one so you're not supporting JK Rowling. DT plays Barty Crouch JR, an antagonist and the son of Barty Crouch. He's kind of a minor character, as he's not actually in a lot of scenes.

☆ Probably on most pirating sites (my go to is MYFLIXERX.TO)

- Learners (CHRISTOPHER ??)

Lighthearted movie about a woman trying to pass her driving test. David plays Chris, her driving instructor. He's a bit of a dork, very sweet and kind. Has a love plot, briefly fights a guy. No major angst.

☆ YOUTUBE (free)

- Hamlet (HAMLET)

Hamlet. Prince of Denmark wants vengeance after his father's death. I haven't actually watched this one yet but I assume it's got the same amount of angst and drama as Hamlet typically does.

☆ AMAZON PRIME VIDEO

- Single Father (DAVE TYLER)

After a fatal car accident, Dave Tyler (DT) is left to parent four children on his own. Still struggling through grief, Dave falls in love again and attempts to hide it. Has LOTS of crying, lots of kissing, sex scenes, DT being miserable and sobbing, etc.

☆ MYFLIXERX.TO (free)

- Rex Is Not Your Lawyer (REX ALEXANDER)

Unaired pilot. Only 40 minutes. Show wasn't picked up, but it is very good. Rex is a successful and skilled lawyer who is forced to stop practising when he starts having panic attacks every time he speaks in court. He decides instead to coach people who want to represent themselves. Lots of DT in very tight suits. American accent. Not MAJOR angst but he does has daddy issues and a panic disorder, so.

☆ YOUTUBE (free)

- Fright Night (PETER VINCENT)

A kid discovers that his neighbour is a vampire, and he seeks out a famous vampire slayer to help him. Peter Vincent (DT) does not live up to his name, and turns out to actually be sort of pathetic. No major angst, not a lot of clothes, no romance, but lots of eyeliner. He's very bisexual. Violence, vampire horror, creepy neighbour.

☆ DISNEY+, AMAZON PRIME

- The Decoy Bride (JAMES ARBER)

Celebrity Lara Tyler tries to get married to her author fiancé James Arber, but the paparazzi interrupts the wedding. Desperate to keep it private, she takes James to the island that he based his book on. Somehow, the paparazzi still find them, and they hire a decoy bride to pretend to be Lara. Romance, kissing, light hearted, minimal angst. David in a funny outfit. Fake dating trope?

☆ AMAZON PRIME

- Nativity 2: Danger in the Manger (Donald and Roderick Peterson)

Sequel to Nativity, but you don't need to watch the first one. Primary school teacher Donald Peterson (DT) is forced to take his class to Wales to participate in A Song For Christmas, a festive singing competition. Here he is put against his twin brother, who is a successful composer and with whom he has a strained relationship. Light angst - lots of daddy issues, but generally sweet.

☆ AMAZON, I think its on NOW TV???

- The Escape Artist (WILL BURTON)

A defence lawyer, Will Burton, gets a murderer off free, and very quickly grows to regret it, when his client comes after his family next. Lots of murder. Like three murders I think. Hot lawyer DT.

☆ AMAZON (I can't believe I forgot this one)

- What We Did On Our Holiday (DOUG MCLEOD)

A family go to Scotland for their grandfather's 70th birthday. Doug (DT) and his wife (Rosamund Pike) are getting a divorce, but are hiding it from the rest of the family. Movie is mostly focused on the kids and their grandad, but David has a few moments, and he's generally present throughout. Funny, slightly shocking at times, family film. No major angst. Character death.

☆ AMAZON PRIME

- Richard II (RICHARD II)

Shakespeare's Richard II. David plays the titular character, the extravagant, heartless and cold King of England, Richard II. We see his fall from grace as he is stripped of everything he owns and knows. Quite angsty. Long hair, androgynous David. Queer kiss scene (although they are cousins, soo...)

☆ you can find a link in a REDDIT comment if you search for it, AMAZON PRIME

- Broadchurch (ALEC HARDY)

An eleven-year-old boy is murdered in a small town, sending shock-waves through the community. Story follows both the family and communities response to the crime, as well as the investigation done by DI Alec Hardy (DT) and DS Ellie Miller (Olivia Coleman). Lots of angst from Alec. He is sick and hiding it. Injury, dizziness, panic attacks, that sort of thing - as well as a heart attack. He has a lot of trauma and daddy issues. Season three touches on topics of rape (warning).

- Mad To Be Normal (RD LIANG)

Biopic about RD Liang, a Scottish psychiatrist. Sex, misogyny, mental health topics, some self-harm (done by another character)

☆ AMAZON (sensing a pattern)

- Good Omens (CROWLEY)

An angel (Michael Sheen) and a demon work together to stop the end of the world. Queer romance (canon), some angst. Drama, comedy, LGBTQ+. David plays Crowley, the demon (who "sauntered vaguely downwards" rather than fell from heaven)

☆ AMAZON PRIME

- Staged (DAVID TENNANT)

A COVID lockdown comedy about David Tennant and Michael Sheen talking via Zoom during the lockdown. Actually quite sad at times? Mostly silly, though. Features Georgia Tennant and Anna Lundberg.

☆ BBC Iplayer (UK) (or VPN)

- Around The World in 80 Days (PHILEAS FOGG)

Phileas Fogg, a quiet and reserved man, decides to travel around the world in 80 days, after he receives an anonymous postcard calling him a coward. Cute found family, drama, angst (ex-lover stuff, internalised cowardice, illness, near death experience), some violence. There's a scene where Phileas gets flogged (whipped, essentially) quite violently, and it's somewhat graphic. Touches on themes of racism. Phileas is 100% neurodivergent.

☆ BBC Iplayer (UK) (or VPN)

- Inside Man (HARRY WATLING)

DT plays a vicar, Harry, who is involved in a murder after trying to protect his son - who was accused of having CP. Suicide themes, murder, self-harm - explores the idea that any person can murder, if they're pushed the right way. Includes topics to do with CP and pedophilia.

☆ NETFLIX, AMAZON

- Litvinenko (LITVINENKO)

Biopic about Alexander Litvinenko. A group of detectives investigate the poisoning of Litvinenko. David is bald in this show. (Scary)

☆ ITVX (UK) (or VPN)

- Doctor who (10TH AND 14TH DOCTORS)

Do I need to explain Doctor Who???? David Tennant plays the tenth and fourteenth regenerations of The Doctor, a Time Lord from outerspace. He travels around in the TARDIS with human companions.

☆ BBC Iplayer (UK)

I think I'm gonna leave it there, but there are a LOT that I have not touched on. This post is a very accurate and long list of everything on DT's filmography, so i recommend you check that out.

Other things I didn't mention (off the top of my head):

There She Goes, Bad Samaritan, Einstein and Eddington, Rab. C Nesbitt, Bright Young Things, LA Without a Map, Much Ado About Nothing, Duck Patrol, True Love, Gracepoint, Camping (US), Nan's Christmas Carol, Mary Queen of Scots, (You, Me and Him), Secret Smile, Deadwater Fell, Jessica Jones, Dramarama, Spies of Warsaw, AND A LOT MORE. (+ voice acting roles, and also his narrating work on Spy In The Wild (2017)

[soulless-bex]

demigod son of Apollo Evan Buckley who stopped using his healing abilities so much after the wars. while Will coped by throwing himself into medical work, Buck tried to fins purpose in something that didn’t remind him so vividly of trying desperately yet failing to put his siblings and his friends back together. Will’s better at it than he ever was anyway, he would tell himself. Someone has to step up as archery instructor, he would justify. in the end, he only ever used his healing as a last resort, but did find that his father’s more light-oriented abilities gave him an edge in firefighting (minor heat resistance, better vision, doesn’t get blinded by light, ect) and threw himself into that life, secretly relieved he found another way to help people

[lady-bess]

Miller's Mountainous Adventure Park - A Secret Springs Activity!

Joel Miller x F!Reader Words: 1.8k Mature (references to sex - minors DNI please!) Tags: Joel Miller!Adventure Guide, Rope Climbing, Tree-top Assault Course, Protective!Joel, Flirty!Joel, Shameful Flirting, Joel is an ass-man in my canon, References to Sex, Reader is definitely scared of heights, and Joel fkin knows it, Explicit Language.

My contribution to @secretelephanttattoo's Secret Springs project! Submitting a short one-shot showcasing our beloved Mr. Miller being a treetop adventure park guide for week four's prompt, 'See, Stay, & Do'. Big thanks to our mayor for giving me this prompt! Enjoy! 🥰

A/N: This was heavily based off a recent trip to a similar adventure park I went to not long ago, in which I sustained rope burns on my arms from going down the zip-line a bit too quickly. I also got stuck in the middle of one of the horizontal lines and was suspended mid-air for a good 20 minutes while a member of staff had to come rescue me. Alas, it was not Joel who turned up...

Miller’s Mountainous Activity Park

“Climbing walls, bungee jumps, and zip lines - Miller’s has it all! Come along for fabulous views, a day of laughs, and fun challenges for all!”

The advert for this place seemed appealing at the time when you booked it. You’d been wanting to challenge yourself to try different things, instead of your usual tendency to resign yourself to your own little bubble of introvertedness. That’s what this whole trip was about, anyway. Booked on a bit of a whim after your recent breakup, you had told yourself that this time you were not going to allow yourself to wallow in self-pity, and instead you’d have fun as a singleton. 

But now, several rounds of activities later, you felt like you were ready to throw in the towel and say fuck new experiences. You were tired, exhausted after an afternoon of group orienteering activities, climbing walls, treetop walkways, and rope courses. Your legs felt like they were about to give way after you’d just climbed your eighth rope ladder in the last hour, and you’d never felt so unfit in your entire life. 

Which was great for your self esteem, as you stood panting at the top of the platform, panting like a dog in heat. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” you whispered to yourself while you caught your breath, but you took relief in the fact that it was almost over. Standing up tall, you were finally at the highest point of the course. From here, you could see out across Secret Springs, and admire the views - the tops of every building, filled with all the independent businesses you’d ventured to throughout your stay here this summer; the rolling hills and stunning views that surrounded the town; and even the mayor’s office, who you understood took great pride in the community they’d built - a pride you felt with them. You knew that the pain from this activity park was fleeting, but the memories you’d gain from being here were forever. 

Part of you never wanted to leave. 

“Y’allright, darlin’?” came a sultry drawl from behind you that made your hair stand on end. You jumped slightly, then turned to meet eyes with the instructor who had been taking you and the rest of your group around the whole park - Joel. 

“Sorry, just admiring the view!” you said, smiling sweetly at him. He nodded, stepping closer to you, holding onto his guidelines and keeping them secure. 

“You sure that’s all it is, doll?” he asked. 

Your eyes danced down to watch him fiddle with the clasps on his safety lines, twisting the caps on one line at a time before re-attaching it to the line you were also fastened to. He coughed subtly when he noticed your wandering gaze and a lack of response. 

“I-uh, yeah! Why?” you asked. 

Joel shrugged, chuckling to himself as he finished detaching his lines from the rope ladder safety guideline and securing himself next to you on the platform. He was now able to get closer, and he approached you slowly, bringing one hand up to rest on your shoulder in a kind of comfort. 

“Just a hunch. I’ve done a lot of these tours - you wouldn’t be the first person to chicken out of doing the final zip wire,” he said, a small grin on his face. 

He clearly loved his job, but he perhaps loved watching how you squirmed underneath him even more. Even in spite of how unfit you felt, and who knows how God awful you looked after hours of physically demanding challenges with a group of people you didn’t know, Joel had kept close to you the entire time. At first you thought it was just because you weren’t here with anyone else, with the rest of your group being made up of couples, or small groups of friends. But the more you’d gone round the course, the more he’d hung back to chat with you; all the while throwing in small physical touches, flirtatious banter, but never overstepping. 

You’d be lying if you said you hated it. In truth, it was rather welcome. 

“Oh! That…,” you trailed off, your eyes now moving to dare look down at the final challenge remaining. You’d been so distracted by the views that you’d completely missed every other person already completing the 200-metre zip wire that stood between you and finishing the course. It was now just you and Joel stood here in the trees, the distant chatter of the rest of the group unbuckling themselves from their harnesses and heading off being just a faint noise. 

“Yes, that,” he chuckled, “Nervous?”.

“A little, I guess. But I’ll be fine! You go ahead, Joel. I’m sure the rest of the group are waiting for your instruction,” you smiled. Joel squeezed your shoulder slightly harder and shook his head, his eyes never faltering. 

“They’ll be fine. My brother is on hand at the bottom to get everyone out. You, darlin’, are my priority,” he said. 

You felt a shiver run down your spine, and you weren’t entirely sure if it was the anxiety of the oncoming zip line, or horniness from that damn pet name he seemed to only use for you, which somehow lit a fire underneath you in a way your ex had never quite managed. Either way, you were nervous. 

“I am?” you stammered. 

“Yeah,” he drawled, “That okay?”.

“Y-yes,” you swallowed, hard. Even if he did just mean from a professional point of view, that he couldn’t legally leave you up here alone, you didn’t feel like that was where he was coming from. 

“Good,” he said. “Tell you what, I’ll sweeten the deal for ya,” he said, his hand now dropping to the fastening on your harness. His fingers glided over the buckles, tugging them slightly to make sure they were still in their proper place after so much activity. The force moved you ever closer to him, and suddenly you found yourself mere inches from his body. The only thing that snapped you out of the trance of watching Joel, and made you realise he’d asked you something, was the sound of your safety lines clanging together on the guideline above you. 

“How so?” you asked. Joel winked at you. 

“You get your cute butt down that zipline in the next two minutes, and I’ll take ya out for dinner, darlin’,” he chuckled. 

You couldn’t hold back the small giggle as Joel began detaching your safety lines one by one to the main zip wire, taking extra care in making sure that they were attached properly. He’d given everyone a crash course on fastening their own lines before you even started, and everyone had got the hang of it by the time you reached the main course - so this extra attention was definitely not because he didn’t think you could do it. No, he wanted to make sure you were secure himself. 

And something about that was quite arousing. 

“I have a cute butt?” you asked, acting like you weren’t relieved you’d picked the good leggings to do this course the second you’d seen how cute your instructor was. Joel laughed lowly behind you, with you now facing the descending zip-line, him tugging on your lines to make sure you were fastened in properly. 

“Sure, that’s what you focus on,” his words skimmed the shell of your ear, and his strong hands landed on your waist from behind. You sucked in a breath at the closeness, and the feeling of warmth that seeped into your body from his touch. It was a kind of comfort mixed with a desire to say screw dinner, come back to my hotel. 

“Yes, you have a cute butt. But you also have a beautiful smile, a gorgeous laugh, and a personality I’d very much like to get to know a bit better,” he said, his voice now lower and almost a whisper behind you. “Is that alright?”. 

“Joel, I’m only here for another week, and then I’m gone. What’s in it for you?” you asked. 

“Darlin’, I’d like to make your last week here the most memorable. Pay no heed to ‘what’s in it for me’. I wanna spend time with ya, and live in the moment a bit more, starting with taking you out tonight. How does that sound?”.

The smallest bit of guilt crept into you at the thought that Joel was willing to spend the next week with you only to then potentially never see you again. There was a nagging voice in your head that still wanted to say no to him, even after he’d made it clear that he didn’t care about the ‘what ifs’ and what would come after you would leave for home next week. 

But then you remembered why you came here. To push yourself, to live outside your comfort zone - the old you might have insisted on saying no, but you did wonder how many opportunities you’d missed in your life by playing it safe. 

“Okay,” you said, “I’d like that, Joel.”

You turned your head to smile at him, and were greeted with his soft brown eyes firmly on yours. He flashed a cheeky grin back at you, then leant in and quickly gave you a peck on the cheek. The scruff of his facial hair brushed against your soft skin, and it was over far too soon. 

“Good,” he chucked, “Now, off you go!” he said, tapping your ass and pushing your lines down the zip wire, setting you on course for the ground. You screamed and laughed as your body dipped off the platform and you were sent careering down the line at a rate of knots, the wind rushing through your hair and the horizon disappearing behind the treetops as you got closer to the landing platform on the ground. 

You could hear the faint laughter of Joel in the distance as he unclipped his wires and got ready to go down after you once you’d landed, and even while rushing down the line you could feel your cheeks burn as a teenage-like crush began making itself known. It might not be anything, but you wouldn’t know until you tried. 

You crash landed at the bottom of the line, your heels digging into the bark-coated flooring to slow you down, but you still unceremoniously landed on your ass. With nobody around, you let yourself flop down onto your back, still attached to the line, and let out a laugh. Your whole body ached, and you’d now definitely need a shower before going out with Joel tonight. But you didn’t care about that. You were happy. 

And, for the first time, you felt free. 

Liked this? Check out my Masterlist!

[bloatedandalone04]

Wrapped Around Your Finger - Part 0.5

Series Masterlist | Original Fic

➪in which you are days away from starting your program and anakin gets used to tour life without you by befriending the sometimes overly-flirty photographer.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 3.6k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡ | THANK YOU FOR 4K FOLLOWERS MWAH

You throw your bag onto your twin sized bed with a huff. 

After sitting through a two and a half hour seminar about your program, you left that building knowing nothing more about it than you did a week ago. You didn’t even get to meet your instructor, despite being informed that he would try and make it to the orientation day. 

Alas, he was a no show, and you really hope he is more professional than this first impression of him. 

You sit next to your bag and play with the zipper for a bit as you glance around the room. It was nice, sure, but you quickly discovered that nothing compared to the room you shared with Anakin back in your apartment. Having just your things on one side of the room looked wrong. Your books on the shelf looked wrong without having his sheet music next to them. Your cardigan that was hung up in the wardrobe looked wrong without one of Anakin’s leather jackets next to it. Even your bed looked wrong since it wasn’t big enough to hold more than one person comfortably. 

Sure, Anakin’s bunk on the bus was a lot smaller, but it still felt more right than sleeping by yourself does. 

You bite down on your lip as you pull out your phone and check the time.

Since it had been a few days since you last saw him, the time zone difference between you and Anakin was going to be a bit difficult to figure out. He was in Norway now, so thankfully there was only an hour difference, and you were able to figure out what he could possibly be doing right now. 

It was nearing six PM now, and he and the guys would be set to be on stage within another hour or so, and you really wanted to talk to him. 

Your fingers play with the thread on your blanket as your free hand types out a quick message. 

Ani, I miss you. Are you able to talk for a second? 

And you were barely able to swipe out of the text app before he was calling you. Bringing your phone up to your ear, you greet him with a dumb smile painted on your lips, “Hi, Ani,”

You hear him sigh quietly as you pull at the thread some more. “Hi, baby,” he says back and your smile only grows. “I miss you, too. So fucking much, I’m going insane.”

You laugh and move to sit further back on your bed, bringing your knees up to your chest with a shake of your head. “No, you’re out touring the world. You’ll forget all about me soon enough,”

Anakin laughed and the sound had your body tingling. “Yeah, and I’ll also become the next president. Add that to the list of things that will never happen,” he says and you blush a bit as you lean back against your pillow. “How was that orientation thing? Is your instructor nice?”

You chew on your chapped lip as you debate on whether or not you should tell him that you had a pretty bad day now or after he was done with the show. You didn’t want him worrying about you before he was supposed to go on stage, and you also didn’t want to come off as some sad girl who had a shitty day just because she wasn’t able to spend it with her boyfriend. 

“It was fine,” you answer and pull the blanket up from its spot at the end of the bed. You loosely throw it over your legs and resume pulling at the threads. “A bit boring, but that was to be expected, I guess. I met this guy who is in the same program as me and we made plans to get coffee at some point. His name is Evan. And my instructor was a no show, so I didn’t get to meet him.”

You hear muffled sounds coming from his end before he was mumbling an, “Oh, that’s….professional,” 

You laugh quietly, looking over at the curtain covered window with a soft sigh. “I really do miss you, Ani,” 

He had only been gone a few days, but you couldn’t remember a time you felt this fucking lonely. You felt a bit pathetic, but could you really be blamed?

“I miss you, too, princess,” he said just as quietly, and it felt like the two of you fell into your own little world. “It’s weird not having my cheerleader waiting backstage for me.” 

You groan and lean back  against the headboard. “Don’t remind me,” you mumble. “I can only imagine all the girls who would swap places with me right now to be your cheerleader, and how many think I’m fucking stupid for being here and not with you.”

“Hey,” he scolded. “You are not stupid. I’ve said it so many times now, but I’ll gladly say it again; I’m fucking proud of you. You deserve to be there rather than stuck backstage while I’m off living my life. Think of all that will come from this, all the opportunities that will be thrown at you. You should be excited, ‘cause I know I am.”

“I’m excited,” you promised, bringing your hand up to chew on your fingernail. “I’m just lonely and missing you. I’ll be fine.”

“You just need to find something to do,” he suggested. “Your classes start in a few days, right? Go sightseeing or meet up with your classmates. Oh, I know, go see that big fucking clock.”

You laugh loudly, and you knew he was probably smiling right now at his successful attempt to cheer you up. “The Big Ben?”

“Whatever its name is,” 

You laugh again and drop your hand. “Ani, that’s like a two and a half hour drive from me,”

“Take one of those fancy trains,” 

“You’re too much,”

“You love me,” 

“I do,” you agree. “I love you a lot.”

He laughed and the sweet sound had you smiling. “I love you a lot more,”

-

Another location officially crossed off the list. 

Anakin was a sweaty mess as he handed his guitar off to one of the stage guys before making his way to the exit. Before he could make it very far he felt a hand wrap around his forearm and pull him off to the side to where the speakers were. “Hey!” Liz beamed, grinning up at him and holding her camera close to her chest. “You were amazing!” 

This was the second night in a row that she had stopped him from leaving to congratulate him, and the second time he was instantly reminded of you. 

Liz’s skin was slightly sweaty but it was nothing compared to his own, and Anakin smiled at her as he put a few feet of distance between them. “Thanks,” he said. “You got some nice shots?”

“Of course I did,” she rolled her eyes playfully. “All my shots of you are nice.”

Anakin’s smile faded a bit as he took a hand towel from one of the stage guys and wiped away the sweat from the back of his neck. There was that weird feeling again. Was she being flirty or just trying to hype up someone she considered a client? “Is that right?” He asked, watching as she nodded and bit down on her lip. His eyes instinctively flickered to her mouth and he straightened up once he caught himself. “Well, I can’t wait to see them.” 

When he turned to leave again, her hand reached out and grasped his bicep, her palm fully covering your initial as she moved to stand in front of him again. “I can show you some now, if you want?” She offered, making him hold back a cringe as he tried to think of a way to nicely reject her. 

He feels his phone buzz in his pocket and his face relaxes slightly when he reads your text.

Princess: I miss you already. Can we facetime after your show?

His heart skipped a beat at the fact that, despite you not even being here, you were able to save him from this interaction. “I can’t,” he said and looked up at her. “I’m gonna call Y/n as soon as I get back to the bus.”

Her face fell a bit as she backed away. “Oh, right,” she mumbled. “You and your girlfriend are so cute. How long have you two been together?”

“Five years in a few weeks,” he answered, fighting off a dumb grin as he thought about his milestone with you. 

“Wow,” she lifted both brows as she gave him a forced grin. “You were just kids when you met then.”

Anakin furrowed his brows as he pocketed his phone again. “I guess,” 

He hadn’t really given it much thought. Yeah, you two met when you were super young, and you still are young now and have lasted longer than most couples in their thirties, so he wasn’t really seeing the point she was trying to get at. 

“Anyway, I don’t want to keep her waiting,” he trailed off, watching as she nodded. 

“Oh, sure,”’ she shrugged. “Have a good night, Anakin.”

“You too,” he replied, already walking away and towards the parking lot door. 

He was barely inside the bus before he was calling you, his tired eyes staring back at him as he waited for you to pick up. “Ani,” you nearly gasped when you did answer, your big smile making his own form.

“Baby,” he murmured, walking past the couch and heading straight towards his bunk. “You look so pretty.”

You look down at yourself and laugh before shaking your head. “I’m wearing pajamas, Anakin,”

“You’re wearing my shirt,” he pointed out. “You look so fucking hot.”

You blush a bit and he wants nothing more than to be with you right now. He wants to see that pretty blush of yours in person. “Don’t say that to me,” you begged, scrunching your brow cutely. “I refuse to be turned on when you’re not here.”

Anakin smirks as he passes his bunk and enters the bathroom. “Have you had to touch yourself yet?” He shamelessly asked as he locked the door and leaned against the sink. 

“Anakin,” you blush even more as you sit up against your headboard. “I have a roommate.”

“Is she there with you right now?” 

“No,”

“Then what’s the problem?” He asked as he used one hand to strip himself of his shirt. “Come on, princess, imagine how good I’d be making you feel if I was there right now.”

He watches as you bite down harshly on your bottom lip. “Ani,”

“Imagine how good my fingers make you feel,” he continued, watching the way your eyes filled with lust. 

“Anakin,” you warned. “I swear.”

He smirked a bit, dropping his shirt to the floor. “I miss you, baby,” he murmured, his eyes following the curve of your jaw as you turned to hide your face in your pillow. “It’s not the same without you here.”

You whined a bit as you lifted your head. “London is fucking boring without you. Imagine all the fun we’d be having right now,”

“I’m sure we’d be having a lot of fun,” came his dirty remark and you quickly broke eye contact again. “Quit looking away, baby, I wanna see your pretty face.”

“I can’t look at you when you say those things to me,” you confessed, turning back to face him with a blush covering your cheeks. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop. Tell me about your day,” he says as he unzips his jeans with his free hand. 

You light up at that. “I ended up texting that guy I told you about, Evan? We did the campus tour together and got drinks from this really cute coffee shop that’s right next to my dorm. You’d love it, Ani, they had so many flavors,” 

Anakin smiled at that, happy you had already made a friend and found a place to go to in between classes. “That’s awesome,” he said. “I wish I was there with you. Maybe we’ll go to London together one day and you can show me the shop.”

“Yes,” came your immediate response. “Absolutely, let’s do that.” 

He shook his head as he rids himself of his jeans. You’re cute,”

“I know,” you beam. “How was the show? I’m so sad I missed it.”

Anakin kicked his clothing into a pile in the corner of the small room. “It was good. Liz said she got some good shots of us that she’ll send later. You wanna see them too?”

“Always,” you scoff then smile. “How is everyone? How’s Theo?”

“Everyone’s doing well,” he answered. “Theo is…honestly doing a really bad job at hiding how nervous he is about his mom. Vin and I told him that we’re here if he needs anything, but he always just brushes us off. He’s distant whenever we’re not on stage together.” 

Your brows furrow a bit as you slouch back against your headboard. “His mom is sick, Ani…and he’s not with her. Yeah, his sister is, but he’s the oldest and has been with her the longest. I can’t imagine what he’s going through,” 

“Yeah, but I just wish he would talk to me, you know? I’ve known him since I was sixteen. It feels like he’s slipping away from us,” he vented as he propped his phone up on the sink and looked at himself in the mirror. 

“Maybe being on stage is his escape,” you offer. “He’s going through a lot right now, Ani. Give him time, he’ll come around.” 

Anakin tore his eyes away from the mirror and looked back at you. You were always so kind and rational and always thought about everyone else’s feelings before you spoke. You really are too sweet for your own good. “What would I do without you?” He honestly asked and you smiled at him.

“You’d probably be as miserable as I would be without you,” 

And he knew you were right.

-

“Hey, Anakin!” Liz greeted and pulled him into a hug, surprising him with the sudden display of affection. He stumbled back a bit, nearly bumping into one of the stage crew members as he did so.

“Hey,” he said back, returning the hug briefly before placing his hands on her hips and gently pushing her away from him. 

She kept her hands on his shoulders as she asked, “Did you get the photos from last night? I didn’t even need to edit these ones, they came out perfect,”

They really did look great. And you made sure to let him know just how good he looked in your message back to him when he forwarded the email to you before he went to bed last night. 

“Yeah, they look awesome,” he said as he stepped away from her. “Though I’m sure that has more to do with the camera and the person behind it.”

Liz rolled her eyes as she pulled out her phone. “When will you learn how to take a compliment?” Then she lifted her phone and pointed it right at him, and he had no time at all to realize what she was doing before he heard the sound of a picture being taken. She clicked on the image and showed it to him, “See? You can’t take a bad photo, even when you don’t realize one is being taken.”

Anakin laughed and shook his head a bit. “Okay, point taken, you can delete that now,”

But she just turned off her phone and pocketed it without deleting the photo. “We should do something together soon,” she suggested and he was about to gently turn her down when she added, “You, me, Vinny and Theo. I want to get to know my clients. Maybe we’ll work together more in the future, you know, after the tour.”

That wouldn’t be a bad idea, right? It might be nice to have a friendship with someone who knows how to work a camera, and Liz really did. Her work was amazing and she never failed to make Anakin feel as desired as he supposedly was by millions of people. 

“Yeah, for sure,” he agreed, then thought about another way she could take photos for him. “Maybe Y/n and I will hire you for our wedding.” It was a joke, the photographer part, definitely not the wedding part. He knew he will be marrying you someday, and he honestly couldn’t fucking for the day you become his wife, but there is also lots of time for that later, when you are both ready. 

The joke definitely went over her head. “Oh, you two are engaged?” 

He fucking wished. 

“No, we’re not,” he said, somewhat disappointedly. Just because you were waiting to get married doesn’t mean you were waiting to be engaged. Anakin also knew that he wouldn’t be able to hold off on asking you that question for much longer. “Not yet, anyway.”

She gave him a smile that looked a little forced. “You two are serious then, huh?”

He furrowed his brows as he leaned against the speaker backstage. This was always your spot, and he was missing you a little extra right now. God, he had no idea how he was supposed to make it another two weeks without you, then two months without you after that. 

“Yeah,” he trailed off. He thought she would’ve known by now how serious you and he are. Sure, you were basically kids when you met, but he knew from that first day that you were the only girl for him, and that fact was still true to this day. “Four years in, you get to be pretty serious.”

She nodded and moved closer to him, her natural flirty personality coming out in full swing as she smirked up at him. “That’s too bad,” she hummed, running a red painted nail up his sleeve of tattoos. “I’d say I’m happy for you, but then I’d be lying. You seem like a great guy, Anakin. It’s too bad you were taken off the market when you were so young.” 

He had no idea how to respond to that. She was definitely flirting with him, but he didn’t see the harm in it as long as he didn’t flirt back, and he had no intention in doing that anyway. Physically he was here, but his heart and mind were back in London with you. 

You were probably pacing around your dorm room right, nervous and scared about starting the program tomorrow. He hadn’t spoken to you since last night, where he ranted about how much he missed you, then listened to the way you talked dirty to him until he had no choice but to get himself off while he was still on FaceTime with you.

You told him that you would’ve helped him clean up the mess he made if you were there with him, and he had to wrap the call up pretty quickly after that as he could feel himself getting hard again and didn’t want the guys to get annoyed with him for being in the bathroom for too long. 

While his hand didn’t feel even close to how you did, he’d definitely be calling you again after tonight’s show. 

“Thanks, Liz, but I was a massive band geek back then and Y/n was this perfect, straight A student who I had no business asking out, let alone talking to,” he reminisced back to his high school days with you. 

“But you did,” she sounded almost bored, but he wasn’t really paying much attention to her tone at this point. He never focused on much else when the topic of the conversation was you. 

“Yeah, I did,” he confirmed, looking down at her with a dumb, love-struck grin. “Best decision of my life.”

She rolled her eyes and stepped away from him. “See, that’s what I’m talking about. I was convinced there were no more good guys left in the world, and now here you are, so in love with your high school sweetheart it’s almost disgusting,” 

He laughed and crossed his arms. “You’re not the first person to call me and my relationship that,” 

Liz sighed as she gazed up at him. “I can only hope that I find a guy as nice as you soon,” she mumbled. “I mean, I’m twenty seven, I should be married by now. I’m so far behind.”

Anakin felt bad for her, and he supposed that was what she was trying to do after bringing up the topic of relationships. “You’ll find someone,” he assured her. “And you’re not behind. You’re a successful photographer, you’re nice, you’re pretty…anyone would be lucky to have you.”

She looked up at him with slightly darker eyes and he stood up a bit straighter, afraid he went too far with that one. “You think I’m pretty?”

He definitely went too far with that one, but he also didn’t want to ruin her newfound confidence. “Yeah,” he answered with a nod, wanting to either escape this conversation or change the subject entirely. “I’m sure I’m not the first person to tell you that.”

Liz shook her head and bit down on her lip. “No, but you’re the first person I believe,” 

She reached out to him and only got to trace the newer ink on his wrist before he was pulling away. “Really?” He laughed and backed away. “I’m sorry to hear that. Anyway, I should help set up for tonight. Apparently all the tickets were sold for this venue, so it’ll be packed. You think you can keep up with everyone?”

Liz smirked as she nodded, “I think I can manage,”

[enchanteriv]

Miley for A Holiday to Die for @riverofjazzsims BC Challenge 😎🤘

﹌𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

To get to heaven, one must first die... Or is it not?

"Now stretch well. Repeat, repeat after me. Relax, close your eyes, release all the excess."

Inhale. Exhaaale. Great.

"Cherie. Cherie, try to stretch yourself more. .... Ouch.. Oh, I see it. No, that's all. Enough for now. Enough, Cherie. Enough, yeah."

Well, thank you guys. The next lesson is in a week.

﹌𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

*the inner voice*:

Is in a week? The show is about to start! You know.

Yeeeah. But that's if nothing changes.

Do you really not believe in me that much?

Are you asking me???

Bro..

﹌𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Aloha. My name is Miley. I am 28 years old.

I spent my entire life in a hot tropical corner of the world called Sulani. Love this damn place.

No matter how much I ran barefoot on the warm sand, no matter how much I tamed the naughty waves, no matter how much I spent time on the beach.

I work as an instructor of spiritual practices and yoga. I help islanders find harmony in their bodies and mind.

I believe that physical activity and mindfulness are important for our health. Otherwise, at some point you will suddenly realize that you are a fucking bag of crumbling bones. But optimism is our everything.

Of course, we are all human and not without weaknesses. Sometimes I like to drink a little. You know, these local cocktails are damn good. I also love ice cream. Get it? That's something, right?

﹌𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Why did I decide to go on the show?

You know, maybe I would have stayed stuck in this hole. But this is a completely new experience. And I challenge him!

*inner voice*

Should we tell them?

Don't you think it sounds strange?

Not at all. Be yourself, man!

Oke. Broooo

And you know, I believe that sometimes you need to notice the signs that the universe sends us.

Like. Once, I was lying on the beach. I was flipping through the news feed. I saw this show. I saw winter. The rays of the scorching sun were enveloping me. And I fell asleep.

* It looked like sunstroke to be honest.... Shut up!*

And you know, I had this dream about this snowy madness. I was there. Everything seemed so real! And I held her hand.

*Or it's just a dream? .... Not now, please.*

Yeah. What am I talking about? Oh, yeah, this is nothing more than the Watcher telling me that I should try.

The path will show me what I am looking for and what I will find.

But Winter, baby.

If you see in me at least a little bit of the beauty that I see in you. Call me.

Info:

Name: Miley O'Problem

Age: 28

Orientation: Hetero

Traits: Mischief, Active, Erratic

Skills: Fitness, Wealth, Mischief

Occupation: Yoga Instructor

[nihonio]

Character Summary: VÍCTOR PENZ

FULL NAME

Víctor Penz

ALIAS • "Lighthouse" (callsign) • Vic (general), kid (general) • Blondie (by Rex), goldilocks (by Rex)

AGE • 22-24 (beginning) • 30-35 (current)

DATE OF BIRTH • July 22nd

PLACE OF BIRTH • Villa Gessel, Buenos Aires, Argentina

NATIONALITY • Argentinean

TRAINING

• National University of the Arts, Buenos Aires. Visual Arts Orientation. • Universal Training Courses for New Agents at the Foundation. • Basic Training Course for SWAT units provided by the FBI. • Advanced Orientation and Field Assessment Course (FBI).

RELEVANT EXPERIENCE

• Management and containment during Incident 097-20██, La Boca, Buenos Aires. • Field work and non-anomalous interventions, SCP Foundation. • Incident-146 "Fungicides," 201█, Site-████.

SPOKEN LANGUAGES •Spanish (main) •English (second language) •Portuguese (limited)

PSYCHOLOGICAL REPORT

The phrase "it's like talking to a wall" was a bit of an understatement at first. This boy has been quite a challenge, at least for the first few sessions. He refuses to answer when I ask him about his life prior to the Foundation. I don't consider pushing him to be an alternative; instead, this becomes a matter of rapport, either that or…. Let him get used to seeing me at the end of each week on his calendar.

Fortunately, the time and effort invested paid off. I went through trial and error until I was able to engage in a fluid conversation with him, but I finally did it. We were able to talk about his first months of training and his current situation at work, although he still refuses to answer some questions from time to time. […] I was not able to find out much about his colleagues and his relationship with them, but he did tell me that it was around this time that he met specialist Steffano "Seams" González, who was one of the instructors in his group. He seemed oblivious as to why the fellow agent took an interest in him, but implied that the standard training and living conditions at Site-28 were not of his liking. (Aggravated by his history/maladaptive behavior?)

He came to some sort of agreement with Site management, and is now living and training with González. Reading his previous records, it seems that this change has helped him psychologically. He seems more relaxed than in previous interviews conducted when he first came in, but he still does not seem completely comfortable during our sessions.

His first field operation was recently, and he had no problem talking in great detail about what happened, how they dealt with the situation, and about his teammates. At least until he realized that, according to him, he was rambling. It was the only moment during the interview where a topic genuinely sparked his interest.

Slowly, he is adapting to his new life and it sounds like his instructor is helping with the necessary encouragement. I will have to keep trying to find out more in the next interview.

— Dr. William T. Falcone, Department of Psychology.

-----

APPEARANCE Blond male, 169cm, weighing about 97kgs (214lbs). Fair skinned with freckles all over the body. Wears glasses. Usually seen donning baggy or sports-like clothing. Has fourteen (14) piercings located through the body (nine located in the ears, three in the face, one in the navel). Posseses a tattoo depicting a lighthouse over a stormy sea covering up to the right scapula to the upper part of the latissimus dorsi. — Surg. Steffano Damiano González, SHRP Head.

STORY SUMMARY

He was part of an isolated group of anartists during his university years, becoming directly involved with works and exhibitions. The subsequent separation from this group ended up launching his career at the Foundation. After collaborating to avoid an anomalous catastrophe during an exhibition, Penz was enrolled as an agent and sent to Site-28 to begin his training.

Standing out for his more artistic vision in problem solving and his physical performance during his career, he caught the attention of the then trainer and agent Steffano Gonzalez, who sponsored him for several years under an experimental project inspired by US military mentoring.

Participating in advanced training in tactical response and special hazards suppression, he was able to lay his foundations as an auxiliary member of Mobile Detachments during his inclusion in the particular SHRP (Special Hazards Response Protocols) group financed by the Foundation.

Due to his art education, during his years working at Site-28 he discovered his vocation for the exploration of anomalous terrain and buildings where it was regarded necessary to capture them in drawings. This, and his previous knowledge earned him a place as a consultant in the Department of Anomalous Art after the retirement of his professor.

He is currently in charge of SHRP, where he coordinates most of the operations. He works at irregular periods in the Anomalous Art Department, teaching classes for agents and recruits within the organization and is constantly on the move for his collaboration with other Sites and Departments where visual records are required during scans and raids.

ADDITIONAL READING: SHRP series hub written by me and oniricshogunsoldier SCP-ES-222 written by Eduteck