#writing is Hard when you're stuck in writer's block land

[scekrex]

YOU ASKED FOR MORE ADAM REQUESTS SO UH HERE I AM

so yk how adam knew angel dust was a pornstar when charlie mentioned his name. uh i have not been able to get that out of my head because he knew him by NAME it wasnt just like he passed by an angel dust billboard cause those are probably fucking everywhere and was like “cool” NO bro looked at it closely enough to know his name by memory— anywaysss what about adam x male reader whos a pornstar cause thats cool dhdkd maybe he sees an ad with the reader on it or something and gets intrigued 😋 anyways have a super silly day

I fucking adore you for that prompt bc the fact that Adam knew Angel by name was/is stuck in my brain too and I've been meaning to write pornstar!male!reader for a while, you simply gave me an actual reason to do so. Also the warmest, cuddliest hugs to @ultimateissuessimp who not only helped me to come up w a plot but also fixed my writers block xoxo to you bro.

Any way you want me, baby, that's the way you got me

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, smut, sex without consent (it's not Adam guys, chill), mention of sexual abuse, choking (with and without consent), unprotected sex, major character death (temporarily)

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

Your pimp massaged his temples and sighed, “Stop acting like a fucking picky whore, if you want your fucking money you'll do the job.” You crossed your arms over your chest, you were having none of it.

It had been a couple of years since you started doing what you did, it had been a couple of years since you had dedicated yourself to that fucking asshole who was trying to force you into something that was way outside your comfort zone. So you have learned to stand up for yourself, to say no. And usually that was fine because usually your clients weren't some snobby bitches with an ass full of money. This time your client was exactly that though, and that asshole of boss - at this point you were sure you could call him that - saw the money and nothing but the money. So a ‘no’ wasn't on the table for you this time as it seemed.

“Fuck you, I'm telling ya, I'm not doing that bullshit,” you told the man in front of you. He however simply grabbed your wrist and pulled you in, “You’re gonna drop that fucking attitude of yours right fucking now because you're gonna do it, if you want or not is irrelevant.” You huffed and ripped your arm from his grip, “Fucking fine, but if that whore breaks me it's on you.” At that your boss chuckled deeply as he gave your cheek a light pat, “Good boy.”

So there you were huh? In a room with some asshole you didn't trust the slightest bit.

It didn't take long for the man to not only undress himself but also to basically tear the fabric off your body - quite literally because your shirt was being ripped open and he yanked your pants down hard enough for the stitches to give out on it.

Your mind went blank after that, everything was just a hazy blur as you tried to get it over with. There were cold hands on your body, then you fell, the landing was surprisingly soft.

A scream filled with pain ripped from your throat as the man thrusted in, in, in until he was fully inside of you, no lube, no preparation. A hand was firmly pressed against your mouth and while probably not intended, he also covered your nose leaving you no way to breathe but you took it, what were you supposed to do? Say no? With that hand on your lips? Yeah, pretty impossible. You also doubted that the asshole would care about your wants. It all went down when his other hand wrapped around your throat and squeezed, he didn't even try to ask for consent, he just took what he wanted, maybe needed.

Your hands were on his wrists in an instant, your nails dug into his skin in order to try and push his hands off of you but to no result, he was stronger. And then the hazy blur faded to black.

-

When Adam read the news about his favorite porn actor being killed he was quite furious.

The news articles all stated the same, that some rich bitch had paid for a session with you - an recorded one on top of it - and had choked you to death. And on top of that the manager of you had published the video, hell Adam was even able to see you die at his hands.

The news articles also blamed you for not giving him any signals to stop, Adam thought that was bullshit. He had followed your porn career for a while now, he had seen interviews too, if only two - it wasn't like many people wanted to interview pornstars on a daily base - he knew you had this little rule about consent and therefore he knew you had given the man signals he just tended to ignore them.

“Can you fucking believe it, Lute?” he asked angrily as he held his phone in front of her face, on the tiny screen there was a news article about your death, a picture of your corpse covered by a white sheet was also featured. Lute looked at it briefly, then shrugged, “Who cares? Just another whore that'll end up in hell.” Adam put down his phone and grabbed Lute by her shirt, “Watch your fucking mouth, he wasn't like the rest of those disgusting sluts.” Lute just shot him a weird look and mumbled a quiet, “Whatever, Sir,” as Adam let go of her clothes.

-

When the world around you got bright you were confused, what had happened?

You found yourself in someone's office, the walls were painted white and there were golden accents to make the room seem less stirile. “Where the fuck am I?” you asked, visibly confused as three pairs of eyes stared at you, one of them was a small girl, she looked delighted to see you. Then there was a woman, you figured it must have been her mother or something like that, she offered you a small smile. The last one was the face of a man who seemed to be equally confused as you were at first, but soon his expression softened a little.

“Well look who we have here,” the man spoke and got out of his seat to walk over to you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders as he shot you a sharp grin.

“Welcome to heaven, Y/N.”

-

It took a good while for you to get used to the afterlife you were expecting, it looked like your beliefs had been with you and that God had decided to put you out of your misery and send you to heaven a little sooner than you had thought. Not that you complained though, the company was better than the people that had surrounded you on earth.

Adam and you had grown to be close friends in no time and soon after your bond had increased so much you had asked the first man out. He had agreed and so the two of you started dating.

He was surprisingly soft with you - was it really surprising though, given that he knew how you had died? No, not really. But it was nice that he accepted your ‘no’ without further questions - sometimes, when he was really into something you said no to, he sat down with you and talked it out, gave you all the options to stop whenever it got too much or you simply didn't like it. Consensual sex without fighting for what you wanted and didn't want was new to you, it wasn't something your former boss or former clients had ever given you.

But that all shattered when Adam requested something that really didn't sit right with you.

“Fuck no,” you exclaimed, and got up from the bed, “No choking, not after-” you cut yourself off, you weren't able to say it out loud, not yet at least, “No.” Adam sighed, he wasn't annoyed or frustrated, he was actually able to understand the situation you were in quite well. “Babes, I’m not gonna hurt you like that bastard did,” he explained himself while also giving you the space you needed, otherwise you'd feel cornered and that was the least thing he wanted you to feel in that moment.

You knew that, in the name of God, you fucking knew Adam wouldn't choke you unconscious and he most importantly wouldn't kill you again by doing so but it felt wrong to let anyone grab you by the throat with the slightest bit of force. “Adam,” you pleaded, your eyes begging him to drop the topic. Adam's body language softened and he patted on the bed, a nonverbal request for you to sit down again. You hesitated for a moment, then you sat down again.

His wing wrapped around you immediately and his arms pulled you to sit on his lap. His chin was resting on your shoulder as he softly spoke, “I’m not asking you to live through a full fucking session, I'm asking you to try it, to let me show you how it's properly done. You can always tell me to stop and I'll be off of you in an instant. I won't ask you to ever try it again if you don't like it.” The brunette's hands rested on your chest, one of them slowly moved upwards to caress your neck and acting out of instincts you leaned into the soft and warm touch of his.

You thought about it. You thought about it for a while and you came to the conclusion that Adam was right. Trying was okay, trying meant you were allowed to hate it. So you hummed in agreement adding a quiet, “Okay.”

-

Soft lips were kissing your throat and you tilted your head upwards to offer Adam more excess. The first man gladly took it as an invitation to leave hickeys on the soft skin of yours which earned him a throaty moan. “Someone’s fucking horny,” Adam grinned and pressed his palm against the slowly growing bulge in your pants. You immediately lifted your hips to chase the friction that was given to you, a deep groan was ringing through Adam's ears, fuck he could listen to the sounds you were making all day. “You’re one to talk,” you breathlessly countered and lifted your knee against Adam's crotch. The taller man's hips stuttered and his wings flapped in excitement at the newfound and unexpected friction. “Oh fuck,” he mumbled against your throat as his fingers clawed at your shoulders and his nails dug into your skin, the pain it caused was different than the pain men had brought you back on earth, the pain Adam was giving to you always felt so deliciously holy and you could drown in it.

You have had sex before with all kinds of men, rude and harsh ones, shy and soft ones, ones that took what they wanted and then left without the slightest thought of satisfying you. But with Adam it was different, Adam always made sure you were feeling as much pleasure as he was experiencing and if he were to get too caught up to jerk you off, he'd blow you afterwards.

Your fingers itched towards the hem of Adam's robe and pulled the soft fabric up until his lower half was exposed. “Get that stupid shit off, it's cockblocking us,” you growled with lust audible in your voice. That was something Adam was quick to do, he was always so eager to get undressed for you, no matter what, no matter when.

Once Adam's robe had hit the floor, your clothes were joining it in no time. Your naked bodies were pressed together, his lips never left your skin long enough for you to actually miss them, they were on you constantly. “Gonna fuck that brain out of your pretty head babes, it'll be all you will be able to think about for the entire week,” the first man whispered in a deep, aroused voice that gave you the most pleasant kind of goosebumps you've ever had and your body shuddered against his lips. “You gotta try real hard for that, you sure you can fuck me that well?” you teased, very much aware that, yes, he was able to do as he had just said, he had proven it before and he'd prove it again. “Watch it, whore,” he grinned up at you and then your nipple disappeared between his lips and another moan tore from your throat to let the first man know what an incredible job he was doing.

Back on earth you had disliked, maybe even hated the term. It was always used as an insult that was supposed to play down what you were doing but when Adam said it, it sounded like the most beautiful thing to achieve, to be called whore by Adam was something you took with pride, something that made your body heat rush to all the right areas.

“Nah,” you replied and even though it was more of a whine than an actual statement, you confidently continued, “You like it when I use my mouth and we both fucking know it.” Adam's wings twitched at the thought of you sucking him off and his eyes revealed that he liked the idea - not for now though, now you two had other plans. “Sure do, babes, sure do,” the brunette agreed as he reached for the bottle of lube that he had placed on the bedside table earlier.

That was also another thing you appreciated about the sex with Adam, while he made sure you were feeling that holy version of pain earth could never compare to, he was also gentle, well as gentle as someone like Adam could be. But he prepared you, always did, and he was the type of guy who'd rather use too much lube than not enough.

At first it had been weird for you that Adam knew about your carrier, in the name of Lord above that motherfucker had seen you die because of that stupid porno. But it turned out to be quite useful for him to have all that knowledge about your past, that way he knew how far he was allowed to go without constantly having to ask you. He did check on your well-being during sex though, a thing you appreciated very much. He also knew about the things you were into, figuring his kinks out was as easy as breathing, the first man did nothing to hide the things that turned him on.

Adam covered his fingers in lube, waited a moment for the liquid to warm up and then slowly started to push his index finger inside of you. Your back arched and your hips rocked down on his finger, taking it like it was a daily thing - maybe because it was. “Gimme the second one,” you breathed out and watched as Adam moved his hand a little, his index finger almost slipped out and you were about to complain but before you had the chance to, two fingers were thrusted inside of you and you groaned, “That’s what I'm talking ‘bout, pretty boy.”

“Just look at the filthy little slut you are,” his hand moved up and down your side before it stilled on your hip bone, “So fucking eager to take the first dick ever made.” You nodded, “And so fucking ready too, so what ya waiting for, big guy?” Your lips had curled up into a shit eating grin as you challenged him, “Scared you'll hurt me?” Oh and that made something inside of Adam snap.

He quickly withdrew his fingers, causing you to complain about the emptiness you were left with. “Adam,” you whined and wiggled your ass closer to his hips, “I can take both, your fingers and your dick.” That earned you a light slap on your hips, “Don’t be so fucking impatient, you'll get what is needed to shut your mouth.” “I think it'll make me open up instead, moaning yo-” you cut yourself off with a loud moan because the brunette had just bottomed out inside of you without any kind of warning. And the burn that came with it from how wide his dick stretched you was beautiful through and through.

“Don’t just fucking talk about moaning my name, do it,” he demanded and gripped your hips firmly to keep you from squirming, he didn't move however, gave you the time you needed to get used to the feeling. Oh the self control this man had was driving you insane. “Goddamn it, fuck me already, what use is it to have the first dick inside of me when it doesn't fucking do shit,” you whined as you threw your head back into the pillows.

Adam didn't move his hips, however he leaned over you and wrapped his left hand around your throat, there was no pressure at all, just the feeling of his hand. For a moment panic flooded your brain and your body screamed at you to make him stop, to tell him not to fucking touch you like that, but then he spoke up and his voice was so soft, sounded so worried, “You decide when it is too much, if this is too much you simply say so and I won't touch you like that again unless you ask for it like a good fucking boy you can be.”

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath and relaxed, his hand was still on your throat but you relaxed. “No, it's okay,” you whispered without looking at him, then added, “Now get to the fucking point and fuck my brains out like you promised.” And then there was pressure on your throat but at the same time the brunette started to move his hips, the pace at which his hips slammed in and out was bruising but it was exactly what you needed. You bared your throat as much as you could, showing him that it was okay, showing him that you trusted him with this, “Fuck, Adam.”

The sound of Adam's balls slapping against your ass filled the room and while one hand was firmly yet not painfully wrapped around your throat, the other slowly slid up your torso until it reached your nipple, the skilful fingers of your lover twisted it in such delicious ways that moan after moan spilled from your lips and Adam admired it, admired you. He was purely enchanted whenever you got vocal during sex - which was quite often.

“Fucking right, whore, moan for me ‘n’ my dick,” he hissed before he caught your lips in a bruising kiss, your back arched off the mattress even more, your hips tried to chase his whenever he pulled out only to slam himself back in again a second later. A whine fell from your lips and seeped into the kiss, your wings closed around his back, trapping the both of you behind feathers but neither of you minded, you were both too caught up in pleasure to care about such things. “Adam, please,” you moaned as your hips helplessly moved in sync with his own, “Fucking touch me.”

Normally Adam would make you beg for it, deny you your orgasm for as long as he could, but not that day. You had been doing so well for him, had tried something that neither of you were sure you would like. You had given him your trust by allowing you to touch in ways no one ever touched you with consent and he wanted to reward you for it, wanted to give you what you so desperately graved. As he attempted to let go of your throat you stopped him. Your hand tightly gripped his wrist in order to keep his hand where it was and you looked him in the eyes as you said, “I fucking dare you to stop choking me, use your other hand to jerk me off.”

He couldn't help the chuckle that rumbled through his body but he did as he was told and once his hand had started to stroke your dick, it only took you a few moments to reach your climax. The white wetness covered your stomach, a few drops even reached Adam's chest but you were too fucked out to pay any mind to it, all that you were able to focus on was Adam, Adam, Adam. Adam, who was fucking you through your orgasm to chase his own, Adam who didn't take much longer to reach his peak, Adam who filled you up with his cum until it started to leak.

The first man breathed heavily on top of you as he pulled out, a weak snap of his fingers cleaned both of your bodies before he fell into the sheets beside you. Well to be fair he had landed on your wing instead of the mattress but you couldn't bring yourself to care. You turned around to face him and curled up against his chest, Adam wrapped his entire body around you in order to keep you warm and protected.

“Thank you, Adam.”

He kissed your head softly.

“Anything for you, babes.”

[littlemissmanga]

So for those writing prompts,,, maybe a tech x reader just because all of these scream tech to me? But obviously if you take this prompt, no pressure to include all of them!!

someone's hair ending up getting caught in the other's glasses/jewelry

maybe one is awkward enough to the point where they're like "what the hell do i do with my hands?!"

that panic beforehand while trying to figure out if they're really leaning in for a kiss or not.

Hello friend! You're absolutely right, all three do fit together really well. It took a little reorganizing to get them to line up in a reasonable way, but I think I got it in the end :)

I hope you enjoy! (And thank you for helping me get out of my writer's block!!)

First Kiss Prompts

A Little Awkward Never Killed Nobody

Pairing: Tech x gn: Reader (Note: Reader has hair long enough to get snagged on Tech's goggles, but that is the only note re: their appearance)

Warnings: Nothing but good ol' first kiss awkwardness.

W/C: 1,596

Dividers by @saradika

Masterlist / Join my taglist

It wasn’t your first choice of hiding spot. Then again, if you had the choice at all, you wouldn’t have taken this latest mission from Cid. But wishful thinking didn’t change the fact that you were stuck in what had to be the smallest closet in the galaxy. Barely large enough to fit one average-sized humanoid comfortably, the space in question struggled to contain both you and Tech.

You were pressed firmly against his front, unable to move from the way you awkwardly landed on him when he first pulled you in, desperate to escape notice from the Empire’s sentries. But in the heavy moments since, all you could think about was the awkward angle of your arms, trapped between your chest and his, resting on his chestplate.

Well, no, that wasn’t quite true. There was one other thought, one observation you were struggling not to analyze too heavily — his own hands were holding your waist and lower back. And rather firmly considering you were no longer at risk of losing your balance. And hells if it wasn’t more delicious and indulgent than you had imagined.

And that was the problem. Imagining in the safety of your own bunk, after the others had fallen asleep, was one thing. Imagining what could come next when you were actually in Tech’s arms, when you may be deluded enough to finally act on your barely contained crush was pushing dangerously close to the line you’ve drawn for yourself.

You were unwilling to risk your friendship with him just to pursue a crush. And even if you were … you wouldn’t risk it in a storage closet in an Imperial facility.

So the moment you heard the footsteps outside fade away, you turned to open the door, only to be pulled back, Tech’s hands tightening their hold on you.

“Not yet.” His whisper was barely audible, though he didn’t really give you a choice whether to comply. “They could double back. We should wait to be sure.”

You give a small nod, your chin brushing against the hard plastoid of his armor, your arms still awkwardly framing your head. In all your daydreaming, you never pictured such an awkward situation. What the hell do I do with my hands?

You tried adjusting as subtly as you could, not wanting to draw attention. But there was only so much you could do in the limited space without bumping into and brushing against Tech.

His hold tightened again. “Please don’t move,” he said, the hiss in his whisper betraying more tension than before.

Stilling instantly, you breathed a small, “Sorry.”   

A shake of his head brushed off your apology. He opened his mouth, but when Tech looked down at you, whatever he was going to say faded away. Instead, he just looked at you with an intensity you only saw him give the most challenging puzzles, his stare unfiltered by his helmet, which rested just by your feet.

His hand drifted higher, moving slow and firm from your lower back to settle just between your shoulder blades before pressing against you and pushing you even closer to him. You couldn’t stop the way your lips parted in response, sucking in as much air as possible after the gesture robbed you of yours.

All the while, your eyes never left his.

His gaze was heavy, and now you knew that the weight of every thought you left unsaid was only part of the equation. Tech was never one to lose his words. And yet here he was, his lips parting and resealing over and over as his eyes combed over your face.

Slowly, so painfully slowly you weren’t sure if he was really moving at first, Tech leaned down. Each inch he took speeding the frantic pace of your heart, still unsure and unwilling to believe this was happening. There’s only one reason your mind could conceive that would have Tech invading your personal space even more than situationally necessary.

But doubt still plagued you. This was Tech — unshakable, measured, straightforward and so damn intelligent he bordered on ineffable. All traits you loved about him but that made believing he could be doing something as frivolous and unexpected as kiss you, especially right now, even harder.

You were at a precipice, and your body was crumbling under the weight of the unknown. Heart racing, clammy palms sticking against his armor. All your focus was on Tech’s face … and on trying to even your ragged breaths.

Finally, Tech moved close enough to rest against you. And it was as if a switch had flipped. The press of his forehead against yours grounded you, and you indulged in the warmth of his breath against your face.

“My apologies. I —”

As much as you loved the low scrape of Tech’s voice as he struggled to form his own words, you cut him off with the press of your finger against his mouth, knowing if you didn’t act now, you may not get the courage later.

Any thought of the sentries, of the mission, heck of the others at all, vacated your mind. You leaned forward even more, lifting up to the tips of your toes, broadcasting your intentions as loudly as you could in the quiet. A shiver ran through you as you saw Tech’s eyes widen and darken.

His lips were almost on yours, so close you could practically taste him. You shut your eyes, body almost vibrating in anticipation …

… before the static crackle of your comm made you jump and bump your head uncomfortably against Tech’s.

“Sentries have been recalled to the northern entrance. Rendezvous to the south, 1.5 klicks.” Hunter’s voice comes through sharp as the order to retreat, and it’s like a wave of cold water to your system.

And as the heat left your body, anxiety was at the ready to slip into place, heavy as a stone in your stomach.

You lifted your arm to rub at the sore spot on your temple, grateful for the excuse to focus on something other than Tech, other than your current situation made more awkward by your advances.

It was only then you noticed a few strands of hair are sticking out, taught and pointing straight ahead … at a rivet in Tech’s goggles.

Oh no.

Before you manage to say anything, Tech moved to grab his helmet off the floor, instantly lighting up the sore spit and pulling you with him.

“Stop – AH! – Stop moving, Tech. I think I’m stuck,” you whispered louder than you intended, desperately grabbing at him to pull him back up.

“Stuck? I do not see …”

It was then he realized your hand pressed against your head, desperately trying to create some slack on your hair. “Ah, yes. Now I see.”

“I can untangle it. Just give me a sec,” you insisted, reaching up to peel your hair out of the metal when Tech stopped you.

“Here. It’ll be more efficient this way.” And as if it were the most natural thing, he handed you his goggles.

You felt them in your palm, warm from proximity to his skin. Your inner voice of reason was screaming that you don’t have the time … but you didn’t listen, unable to stop yourself from taking in the sight of Tech’s face unencumbered by his ever-present goggles.

“Problem?” he asked, raising a brow at you before flicking his gaze to your palm and back again.

“N-No, no problem.” Hastily, you tugged at the strands, not caring if they broke where they were snagged. Once free, you carefully pulled the remnants out and offered the goggles back to their owner. “Just … never thought I’d see you without these.”

You could feel your face heating up, even more so once Tech’s vision was restored, worried he could see. Whatever confidence you found a bit ago was gone, as was the intimate moment. Probably for the best. So, you turned to make your way out of the closet, set on getting to that rendezvous point without further embarrassment … only to be stopped yet again by Tech’s hand around you.

“And?”

You furrowed your brows in confusion, which deepened when Tech moved even closer.

“What do you think of the sight?”

Two heartbeats. That was how long it took you to decide, to seize the moment he was offering. Your hands slid up, over his shoulders to pull yourself more surely against him, biting your lip slightly as you felt him respond in kind, his hand moving up to gently cup the back of your head. He pulled you to him but stopped just shy of your goal.

You surged forward, closing the space definitively and sighing at the delightful press of his lips against yours. His arms tightened around you almost instantly, and Tech deepened the kiss without hesitation or restraint as his tongue danced along yours and stole your breath.

Much too soon for your liking, he pulled back. “I am afraid we are rather out of time for our present activities.” If you didn’t have your chest pressed to his, you’d never have known how labored his breathing was. The knowledge sunk deep, warming you from your core and spurring you on.

Tilting your chin, you gained just enough room to speak against his mouth. “Don’t apologize. You can make up for the interruption later.”

A shiver ran through you at the feel of Tech’s smile against your own. And for what you believe was the very first time, he didn’t answer you in words.

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[warabidakihime]

Intimate Ink

Characters: Nanami Kento x Reader

Synopsis: Y/N, a struggling writer, finds herself in the clutches of a frustrating writer's block. In search of inspiration, she seeks the help of her boyfriend, Nanami. Hence his debut as the author's Muse.

Content warning: smut and profanities. Minors DNI.

A/N: this is just me giving myself a pep talk by indulging into my deepest desires loljk ha enjoy.

-

"Fuck."

You grumbled as you turned away from your laptop, which you had been looking at for the last five minutes, hoping that an idea would finally come to you so you could begin writing the next sequence in the new chapter of your novel.

Everything was in place, but you couldn't manage to translate the scenarios in your imagination into actual words.

Just like your current mental state, the storm outside continued to wreak havoc. You swore you saw a chunk of someone's roof fly by. For a brief while, your heartbeat rate increased as you worried that the piece of metal would crash through your window and then slit your throat.

Crossing your arms as you leaned back on your chair, all the while closing your eyes to ground yourself, if there was one thing you had learned throughout your whole career as an author, it was that you shouldn't write when your head was clouded; otherwise, it would affect your output.

As you sat in silence in your office, you heard the front door open, indicating that your boyfriend, Nanami, was finally home from his errand run to the mall. He went shopping today for a new laptop charger after their golden retriever, Pepper, chewed on his old one. He couldn't bring himself to yell at the poor puppy since the relief he felt when Pepper didn't get electrocuted outweighed his displeasure.

Even though it was still early in the morning, your sleep-deprived boyfriend willed himself to go out and buy a replacement for his broken charger. His own deadline was nearing, so he didn't really have the time to procrastinate.

"I'm home," Nanami called out.

Deciding to take a break from writing, you finally stood up from your office chair and made your way downstairs to greet Nanami.

As soon as your eyes landed on him, a big smile appeared on your face. You had been dating for five years, but the feelings he gave you were very much the same as when you first started seeing each other.

"Were you able to buy what you need?" you asked.

Nanami nodded as he showed you the shopping bag in his hand as well as the milk tea you had requested him to buy on his way home. Maybe the sweet drink could help you get back on track.

You skipped over to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek, saying, "You're the best. Thank you, Nanamin."

Your ever stoic boyfriend gave you a boyish smile and said, "You're welcome. Have you eaten? I also bought food. You looked like you've been cooped up in your office all day."

"Yeah, I've been having a hard time with my novel. I can't seem to move forward."

"Your deadlines are not until next month, right?"

"Well, yeah, but... I don't like it when I'm in a stump." You chuckled humorlessly, clearly bummed about not being able to write at will.

"What part are you stuck at? Maybe I can help," Nanami said after settling down on the sofa.

"Huh? We-" Nanami immediately looked your way when you stopped abruptly, but before he could ask you what's wrong, you beat him to it and spoke first, "Yes, you can."

"I'm glad. So, which part of the chapter did you need help with?" Nanami asked again while tapping the space beside him, implying that you sit down with him.

So you did walk towards him, but instead of sitting beside him, you settled yourself on his lap. That caught him off guard, but he quickly adjusted and welcomed you quite eagerly; his eyes focused on you while he waited for your next move.

"Actually, I do know what to write next; I just don't know how to word it correctly. More specifically, I can't quite picture the scene in my head as accurately as I could."

"What do you mean?"

"I suck at describing positions, you see. But I might nail it down if I try to act them myself," you explained as you straddled your boyfriend, who was completely chill about everything so far.

"Hmm... is that so?" Nanami said coyly as he wrapped one arm around your waist to prevent you from falling backward, but apparently there was no need for that because as he was leaning backward to make himself more comfortable, you were already leaning forward towards him until you were chest to chest.

It was such a completely harmless gesture, but the tension in the room grew significantly stronger. It was so potent that they both felt their skin tingle with excitement. Nanami's intent stares and slightly wet hair caused by the rain weren't helping either. In all honesty, you felt your insides churn when you saw him by the foyer when he just got back from his errands. He looked so sexy and enticing, you almost jumped on him.

You cupped one side of his face, your thumb caressing his chiseled, gorgeous face. "Will you help me?"

After what seemed like forever, your heart started to race as you felt Nanami's arm wrap around your waist, keeping you steady on his lap. Your closeness started a spark of anticipation between you, and you exchanged a meaningful gaze. You could see the desire flickering in his eyes, mirroring your own.

Nanami's voice dropped to a low, husky tone as he played along with your unconventional request. "Alright, let's bring your imagination to life," he said, his voice laced with a mix of confidence and seduction.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as Nanami took the lead, his hands gently guiding your movements. With each gesture, he narrated the scenes from your novel, his voice resonating with a blend of authority and desire.

"The horny couple finds themselves in a secluded room," Nanami began, his voice captivating and commanding. Though his narrations were captivating, you were unable to refrain from laughing at the way he colored the characters in your story. But he was right on the money.

"Then the ever-needy bastard gently undresses her, savoring the sight of her exposed skin, inch by inch."

A soft moan slipped through your lips when you felt it brush against your crotch.

Nanami's hands moved with purpose, caressing your sides, his touch igniting a fire within you. Your breath hitched as you felt the brush of his fingertips against your skin, fueling your imagination and heightening your senses. Even more so when you felt his arousal grow firmer from the confines of his khaki shorts.

"Once she's bare before him, he explores every contour of her body," Nanami continued, his voice a sensual melody. He trailed his fingers along your arms, leaving a trail of tantalizing sensations in their wake. "His touch is electric, awakening every nerve and every hidden desire within her."

Your heart pounded in your chest as Nanami's hands moved further, tracing delicate patterns along your back and then the curves of your ass. You could feel the heat building between you two; the room continued to be filled with an undeniable magnetism.

You were so entranced that you didn't notice how quickly both of your clothes were coming undone.

"Their lips meet, hungry and eager, as your bodies intertwine," Nanami whispered, his voice a breathy caress against your ear. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your skin, igniting a cascade of tingles down your spine.

Your mind swirled with a whirlwind of emotions, lost in the sensations Nanami created. You surrendered yourself to the experience, allowing your imagination to meld with reality.

"They lose themselves in the rhythm of their desires, their bodies entwined in a dance of passion," Nanami narrated, his voice filled with raw emotion. His hands explored your curves, leaving no inch untouched, matching the intensity of his words.

You and Nanami were enveloped in a world where your shared fantasies became tangible. The boundaries between fiction and reality blurred as Nanami brought your novel to life, painting a vivid picture with his touch and voice.

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding in sync with Nanami's steady rhythm. A surge of inspiration washed over you, breaking through the walls of your writer's block, but at this very moment, curing your inability to write was the least of your worries.

You wanted Nanami, and you wanted him now.

After your productive brainstorming session, you and Nanami found yourselves breathless. The air crackled with a mix of desire and satisfaction, and a mischievous glint danced in your eyes as you looked into Nanami's gaze.

Your lips curled into a seductive smile. "Well, well, Kento. I must say, you have quite the creative way to help me overcome my writer's block," you purred, your voice dripping with playful innuendo.

Nanami smirked, his fingertips tracing light patterns on your thigh. "I'm a man of many talents," he replied, his voice filled with a mixture of confidence and desire. "But I must admit, it's not every day I get to bring a story to life in such a hands-on manner."

You leaned closer, your breath tickling his earlobe. "Oh, but you're so good with your hands, Kento. It's as if they have a mind of their own," you teased, your voice laced with undeniable allure.

Nanami's fingers trailed higher, causing you to shiver with anticipation. "Is that so?" he murmured, his voice a low rumble. "Tell me, Y/N, what else do you enjoy about my hands?"

Your eyes sparkled with mischief as you leaned back slightly, your gaze meeting his. "I enjoy how they explore every inch of my body," you whispered, your voice dripping with desire. "How they leave trails of fire in their wake, igniting a hunger that only you can satisfy."

A flicker of challenge danced in Nanami's eyes as he grasped your chin, his touch gentle yet commanding. "Is that a challenge, Y/N?" he asked, a hint of playful arrogance in his voice. "Because I assure you, I'm more than capable."

Your lips curled into a wicked grin as you leaned in, your voice a sultry whisper. "Prove it," you challenged, your eyes smoldering with desire. "Show me just how skilled those hands of yours can be."

The room was filled with a tantalizing mix of laughter and moans as Nanami and you surrendered to your desires. Your banter continued, punctuated by passionate kisses and gasps of pleasure. The two of you explored each other with eager anticipation.

Your fingers traced the contours of Nanami's chiseled chest, reveling in the power that radiated from his body. "You feel so good," you whispered, your voice laced with a mix of breathless awe and desire.

Nanami's lips found their way to your neck, peppering it with gentle kisses and igniting a trail of shivers along your spine. "You taste even better," he murmured, his voice husky with need.

The needy bastard’s lips curled into a wicked smile as he complied, intensifying his advances. "You make the most beautiful sounds," he growled, the raw desire evident in his voice. "I love how you react to me."

Your hands explored with purpose, mapping out every curve and crevice of your intertwined forms. You arched your back, giving Nanami better access to your sensitive spots. "Right there," you gasped, your voice thick with need. "Don't stop."

Your bodies became a playground of sensations, with each touch and stroke driving you closer to the edge.

Your fingertips traced the contours of Nanami's sculpted chest, particularly his perky nipples, eliciting delicious sounds from his sinister lips.

Nanami's hands caressed your curves, his touch firm yet gentle. He reveled in the softness of your skin, savoring the sensation as his fingers glided along your body.

Your mouths met once again, tongues entwining in a fervent dance. It was a language of pining, expressing what words couldn't convey. As you kissed, your bodies moved in perfect harmony.

Your hands traced the lines of Nanami's muscled back, her touch both gentle and demanding. "You make me feel so fucking good," you whimpered.

Nanami's lips curled into a wicked smile as he locked eyes with you, his movements steady and deliberate. "And you, my love, are a vision of pure ecstasy," he replied, his voice husky with desire.

Your nails dug into Nanami's skin, the room filled with the sounds of your union—moans, gasps, and the rhythmic slap of skin against skin. It was driving you both incredibly insane.

As your pleasure intensified, your words grew more audacious.

"Fuck me harder," You moaned, your voice laced with a desperate need, to which Nanami happily obliged.

What his Queen wants, his Queen gets.

"Holy shit–you feel, so! so good!" You gasped, your voice filled with raw desire. "I need more of you, Kento."

Nanami returned your stare with a boyish smirk, his own yearning reflecting in his eyes. "You're insatiable, Y/N. But I'm more than happy to give you what you crave."

"Oh, fuck yes," You cried out, your voice filled with unbridled pleasure. "I'm so close, Nanami. Make me come; make me lose control."

Nanami's voice was a low, seductive growl as he replied, "Hold on a little longer, Y/N. I want to savor every second of this intoxicating pleasure."

Your bodies moved with a desperate urgency, their movements fueled by the primal need to find release. 

Your voice trembled with a mix of anticipation and longing. "Nanami... I can't hold back anymore. I need to come. Please..."

Nanami's eyes smoldered with desire and a hint of adoration as he adhered to your request. "Let go, Y/N. Give in to the pleasure. Come for me."

At that very moment your bodies convulsed with bliss, their shared climax washing over you like a tidal wave.

As your breathing slowed and your bodies basked in the afterglow, feeling absolutely well-spent. After what seemed like a total bang fest, the two of them remained silent as you tried to come down from their high with Nanami leaned all the way back on the sofa and you were plastered on his chest wearing a smile that practically spells, "Just had the best fuck of my life."

The two of you spent the next several minutes catching your breath, the room enveloped in a comfortable silence as you basked in the afterglow of your shared ecstasy. Eventually, Nanami broke the quietude with his sultry voice, "Well, I hope I was able to help you gather enough inspiration and references for your novel."

In response, you released a weary chuckle, your voice carrying a hint of contentment, "You have no idea; in all honesty, I could write a whole trilogy at this point."

"Don't forget to mention me in your 'thank you' message, and I'd like to receive a portion of the revenue should your novel become a box office hit."

You rested an elbow on Nanami's chest, your eyes sparkling with playful mischief as you beamed at him, "Am I not enough? My readers only get an autograph and maybe a picture from me, but you get the whole package."

"Well, if that's the case, how about a bonus?"

"I'll think about it. Till then, keep your lines open," you replied with a teasing smile, and right after that, a yawn slipped through your lips, eliciting a fond chuckle from your boyfriend.

Your conversation seamlessly transitioned into a cozy stillness. As you drifted off to sleep, your bodies remained intertwined, creating a cocoon of warmth and intimacy. When you awoke well past midday, the rest of the day was dedicated to unwinding and enjoying each other's company.

And as if Nanami possesses the voice of an angel, figuratively and literally, your novel did indeed reach box office success. True to your playful agreement, he received his well-deserved bonus.

[xyliane]

half the world away by aurora! "My body feels young but my mind is very old/So what do you say?/You can't give me the dreams that are mine anyway/You're half the world away" annnnnnnd gon :') (congrats on the following my dude!!! >:O)

aaa thanks buddy! I don’t know what it was but this was frustrating as hell to write. I think I have five versions of what this might’ve been, and it’s an unedited disaster. which is the opposite of fun, because I love this cover. but now it’s done! I hope you like it. gen, gon and killua and not a whole conversation but maybe it’s a start, post-election arc. 800 words. I’m using manga ages so gon’s only been back on whale island for a bit (maybe a few months). 

—

“You can’t use nen anymore?”

Gon frowns, unsure of how to respond, and dangles his feet in the air and his head off the roof of Aunt Mito’s house instead. It’s a nice day, rare in the middle of winter, where the rains have stopped and the power is stable long enough to get everything charged and the internet working at home. Aunt Mito wants him to finish with the laundry, but it’s too nice to worry about that, with the smell of sun seeping into his skin and the sounds of life echoing out of the forest. It would be nicer if Killua were here, maybe.

There are so many maybes on Whale Island. Maybe he was too focused to notice them, before. Maybe he’s fourteen and fourteen year olds are supposed to be full of maybes. Maybe he’s changed.

Half the world away, Killua sighs. “We don’t have to talk about this,” he says. The words are careful, tip-toeing around a roof made of paper, like he’s worried this will break the weak barrier they’ve put up against everything that happened.  

Gon shakes his head, wriggling his toes in the warm breeze. “No, Killua! It’s important, and I couldn’t tell you before. I want to tell you.”

“If you say so.”

“I do! Although I guess there’s not much to tell.”

A breath of a laugh echoes through the phone. He doesn’t sound convinced at all, but in a tone that Gon knows means he wants to be convinced. It would be easier to tell if they could talk face to face, but it’s Killua. Gon knows him by sound, by smell, just as well by sight.

“I can feel energy, from the forest and the trees and Aunt Mito and Kon. But it’s more like before I learned about nen, although maybe it’s a little different. I’m not sure.” He looks at his toes splayed out against the blue sky. No aura, no once-familiar ripples of power, just…brown skin and freckles. It’s just him, on his own.

He expects Killua to ask how, or why, or even when, all questions he’s prepared for but doesn’t want to face right now. Killua’s always interested in the details of things, to plan for contingencies based on previous data and his own intuition. It’s fascinating to watch, and Gon can’t help but admire how good Killua is at that. But none of the questions come, not even a sound.

“Killua?”

“Do you want it back?”

The question is so unexpected Gon nearly drops his phone off the roof. His heels thunk against the roof, shingles spitting up splinters against his skin. But Gon barely registers it. “Do I want…?”

“Your nen. I can ask… Maybe Nanika can help?”

Gon sits upright, shaking his head fiercely. “No! No, Killua, don’t ask her.”

“Why not?” 

The question is sharp, almost harsh. How can Gon explain that it feels like it’s his fault? That he has to fix it himself? That he doesn’t mind not having it, most of the time? That he’s not ready yet? “Don’t. Please, Killua.”

The silence he gets back weighs about a thousand kilos on the phone, heavy enough to break. Maybe Gon should have done as Killua said, waited to talk about this until they meet each other again, or until they’re ready. But ready is too uncertain, with too many things unsaid to make it understandable. Maybe Gon will never be ready, will never be like he had worked so hard to become.

Maybe that will be okay. He just has to find out what he wants.

“And if you don’t get it back?” Killua finally asks, voice quiet and small in a way Killua never is. “What do you want to do then?”

“I’ll figure out something. I know I want to travel with you again.”

“Idiot. What if I don’t want to travel with you, Alluka’s a way better travel partner. She doesn’t leave her dirty socks on my face.”

Gon smiles. “Because I miss you, and you miss me.”

“Idiot,” Killua says again, although now his voice twinges and pops, like he has to force the word out through the blush on his face Gon knows is there even if he can’t see it. It would be easier to see the words Killua doesn’t say if they were together. But it would be easier to do a lot of things. And Gon wants to do this alone, if only for a little while.

There’s a soft rustle, maybe fabric or a blanket. How late is it wherever Killua is? He can’t say what adventures he’s having now, to keep his sisters safe, but Gon can imagine. It’s probably in the middle of the night. Gon should maybe feel a little bad about keeping him up late.

He doesn’t. Killua doesn’t, when he calls instead, so why would it be a bad thing?

“Are you really sure, Gon?”

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

“Then when you catch up, you’d better be ready. I won’t go easy on you even if you don’t have nen.” And it’s when, not if, and Gon feels his heart pound in his chest, knowing Killua believes in him. Somehow, it makes all of the maybes feel less important. 

“You can try!” Gon says, and Killua laughs.

[jojoreadwhat]

you're all in my hands tonight, tonight I'm a rock 'n' roll star. / honey & smoke - m.h. x OFC story

Four Days Later, On A Friday.

Matty's POV

Computer Education had already given me a sour taste in my mouth and I only sat through two of its lectures. One because I knew majority of what was listed on the slides Professor Nolan was scheming through. I really had no explanation why I applied at UNI in the first place. I had high hopes that the tapes the boys and I sent into Capital Records would hit a soft spot. Sending us on a one way trip to success, where none of these qualifications would matter as long as I wrote out the music.

Then again if it all went down hill where I'd arrive at my flat with a box of tapes with the word 'denied' repeatedly stamped over it like fragile, even though my heart would be the fragile piece in that box. It would open the door behind the scene, the little paper of a degree with my name. A ticket of being able to tweak the shitty tunes on the radio that replayed like the TV movies do on Sundays.

Two, Professor Nolan was a bit of a drag. A fine dapper looking gentlemen in his early fifties. His hair slick back dirty blonde with what looked like emerald eyes the last time I stood close. A close shaved beard that extenuated his sharp jaw line. Dressed to the nines that if you seen him on the streets, you would've thought he had millions and a white collar type business. Even though, his Gucci navy suit that my father had exactly and bought for fifteen hundred dollars could make you believe he sat on a green mountain of dollar signs.

I felt his personality and aura resembled a present me. Barely in tune with all the new things happening but completely in tune with the young ladies that gave any advantages to pass. But in his case the young ladies could pass as daughters if the sucker had any.

"Open Audio Access on your laptops." He commanded, changing the slides that was accompanied with taps and clicks from everyone following along. I sighed to myself, everything that was on those poorly designed boards. I had edited and achieved on a new track the boys and I had recorded last night.

I slouched back in my seat, listening to Nolan's cocky Mr. Know-It-All demeanor. His degrees decorating the back of his desk fact it in that he knew more. Only giving him the approval of having Professor in front of Nolan instead of Mister.

++

After commenting on Mindy's plaid skirt, Professor Feast-A-Lot finally dismissed us.

I still had a class within the hour, just some simple music class that I signed up for the laughing matter. Always stating my answers to bands I drowned myself in as the other students wanted to cuss me out. Sighing to themselves, like that mop got the spill of answers.

With the time I had between I decided to get some coffee. The tea I had earlier with George talking about his night wasn't living up to it's strong expectations. Even though the class I just left could stand as a contender of an explanation.

I walked with the rush of the hundreds in the halls, making my way to left wing lounge and turning the corner of muraled up wall, covered in vibrant flowers and weird shapes from the art program.

Waiting at the counter I turned to scan the little lounge, just many studying with their textbooks as heads. Some talking to another. Just the common vibe of any little coffee shop you stepped your foot into.

One of them sticking out like a sore thumb.

Lucy.

Writing in her leather bound journal that rested on her crossed legs, playing with the slight tear in her in the hem of her playful colored dress.

Relaxed and looking out the window on the purple wing-back in the cafe lounge. Watching the shades of orange, red and yellow converse against the blue sky. Admiring her side profile, a high cheek bone with a light dusting of blush against her milky skin, her perfectly rounded jaw. Her lashes curled with a coding of mascara that complimented her baby blues.

I watched as she grazed her bottom rosy lip with the back of her pen in thought.

The red headed barista asked for the second time what I wanted before realizing that she was even speaking. Finding it hard to take my eyes off the scenery near the window. I ordered my black coffee, then pointed out Lucy who looked disappointed in the last drops of her cup. Dark roast, light with vanilla, sugar and two shots of the sleep she had lost the night before.

--------------------------------------------

Lucy's POV.

I was finding myself becoming a frequent patient with my therapeutic glances of the vibrant trees and the sounds of the espresso machine. Sitting in the same wingback, looking about the window, stuck in what I was going to jot in my journal next. My first week of being in London and enduring classes was wrapping up, nothing worthy had happened yet to write about and I was finding myself running around a writer's block.

As much as I wanted my creative juices to keep blending. I couldn't complain about how things were going. University has been so far treating me well. I've met a good handful of my professors in Week A, many have taken a liking to me which I couldn't quite grasp. But it wasn't a bad feeling to know about, plus Professor Jones really liked my thesis of A Brave New World by Aldous Huxley. Putting a good word into the librarian of the Uni's library and landing me a interview for Monday.

Things at the university housing with Liz and Abby was going pretty well too. I was growing more fond of them by the minute, both interested in the same type of books, music and films. Liz was a bit realistic and logic about life, which kind of put a damper on things if you were trying to live in a fantasy world with reality biting you in the ass. Then Abby was more free spirited and self aware of what made an individual very much happy, even when the world was not so happy.

Then lastly, home. I finally Skyped my brother Eric and my dad. It was early for them but quite late for me. But in all I was mixed with emotions, both joyful and sad that I wasn't home. They are doing well so far.

I sighed to myself, resting my leather bound on my lap and retreating my blue eyes to the shades of orange, red and yellow. Reaching for the coffee I had finished moments ago, but reluctant to get up and grab another.

But that was before one was brought to me instead. By another thing that I had happened to come across this week.

"Am I intruding?" The English native that I met my first night here had greeted, handing me the warm paper cup with pretty botanical flowers repeated. I shook my head, gesturing my free hand to the wingback across.

Matty sat down, folding his long legs over one another. His eyes meeting mine, smiling softly as his mouth indulged in a sip. Giving me a few moments to admire before another word.

He wasn't wearing his glasses today but his hair was the same as the night I met him. Pulled back into a bun with loose curls shaping out his face. My eyes leading down to his lined out jaw. His collarbones, the tattoo that always made an appearance no matter what type of shirt he wore this week. To the lasting hole over his knee.

I was broken from my stare when he had chuckled, possibly figuring out that I was staring long.

"Anything new?" He asked, his eyes gesturing to my open leather bound. I shook my head, slowly closing it against my knee before my eyes met his again.

He looked at me surprised and in disbelief, "So the storyteller doesn't have a story to tell?" He questioned, resting his cup on the table aside us. I shrugged, it was truly hard to believe but as my mind moved fast the world outside of it didn't and I was at a stand still.

"It just been classes, reading and then some." I finished, finally taking a sip of my coffee.

Matty smiled at me again, a smile I could watch curl at the ends of his mouth like a favorite part to a movie. "We may have to change that." He said, looking at me with tricks under his sleeves and me swimming in his over sized sweater.

I had to cut my coffee break short when I realized I had time run to my next class, Woman Studies.

Shortly becoming my favorite class as we debated fundamental rights and she played Kathleen Hanna fronted Bikini Kill winning my anarchy heart.

"Don't forget to read The Second Sex and please have your reasoning's sent in by 12 AM on Monday." She dismissed. I followed suit with the rest of the class as I packed away my things for the weekend.

Making my way to the hall to get lost in the hundred of others trying to head out and not miss the next Tube coming by. The boy in a leather jacket that I was sharing a coffee with an hour earlier was leaning against the wall next to the door.

His devious smirk gracing upon his face, "I'm feeling like you're onto something." I commented, a small smile plastering across my cheeks. Matty rippled a contagious laugh that I could listen to like an album on my turntable.

"Can't a gentleman just walk a lady home safely?" He remarked.

++

"No! That's a lie!" I laughed, hitting Matty's forearm lightly. We had moved onto music since Matty offered to walk me home. And let's just say we had a few differences.

Matty loved older music, which I did too. But I found Prince to be a bit cooler than MJ. Which didn't sit well with Matty. "Have you heard the magic in Rock With You?" He mentioned, "It's fucking legendary!" It was so funny to see him go off, but I never said I didn't like the man! I knew how the sounds had your hips moving. I was just a Purple Rain kind of girl.

Matty stood in front of me, walking backwards down the sidewalk.

Girl. Close your eyes... He began singing, moving his hips to the beats that played out in his head. Taking my hand, and pulling me close.

Let that rhythm get into you, don't try to fight it. Placing one hand above my hip, the other still in mine. Directing my hips into a sway, as his voice hit me like sweet serenity.

He went on, and I was enjoying every bit of it. Music was his muse like books were mine and he wasn't ashamed to show it. His hips showing that he never stopped moving either.

We had arrived to the front of my flat, Matty belting more songs of MJ.

"I have to get in," I mentioned, not really wanting to do so. Matty's lips kept moving "Not until you change your mind." Singing in the measures of Don't Stop Till You Get Enough.

I chuckled, still dancing with him till I finally caved in. "Alright, Michael Jackson is better." I confessed, meaning every word that fell from my mouth. He just chuckled, pulling me closer and bringing his lips to my ear.

"I think you're lying" his warm breath grazing my lobe. Sending chills down my spine. I went to protest when Liz and Abby got out of their car. Interrupting our manifest. They just softly smiled, saying Hello before retreating up the porch. I looked up at Matty, who still had his hand around my waist.

Matty pulled away with a soft but questionable expression on his face. I wondered what was on his mind.

"Come watch us play tonight." He said, "The boys and I are playing at the bar George's bartends in. I'd like to see you there."

Many different excuses ran through my mind. Studying, catching some sleep, watching the same three episodes of The Office, outline my far along memoir that would be a flop. Just a rush of things that could've fallen from my mouth.

"Alright, sounds like fun." Happened to be the better option.

Matty's smirk turn a bit shy, looking to the ground before he looked back up at me.

"I'll pick you up at 6?" He questioned, I nodded. Still confused on why I was agreeing to this extravaganza in the first place. A smile gracing his face once more before turning on his Vans to head back to where his road led him.

"See you soon, Blue."

[mako-bones]

For the ask game: 8, 14, 15, and 34 (hi!)

Hello! :) Thank you so much!

8) Oldest WIP

I went with the story idea that I would actually consider a wip, and that's an original work called "The Farther We Go" It's about a nonbinary protag named Sydney waking up on an abandoned, defunct ship--They're missing their memories, their crew and their only companion is a little robot named Response. I can't think of any coherent way to continue it, so it's just been like a one-shot in my google drive.

Here's a little excerpt from the first chapter!

“CryoSleep….”

The definition came forefront and center.

“A prolonged period of inactivity in the body, carried out by specially operated cryogenic machines. It’s….Cold in there.”

They sighed and buried their head into their hands. “My name…”

Nothing came to form a thought. Their family, their friends, their life. They rubbed the palms of their hands against their eyes, feeling the ghost of watery tears against their skin.

A quiet whirring drew their attention upwards, and they quickly jumped up. They clasped their hands together tightly, almost wringing out the despair.

“Oh, did you find anything? Anything about me? Or this place, at least?”

“I…” Response tilted to the side, screen blank and the lights reflecting. The human could see their face in the screen, their big eyes staring back at them in fear and lips pursed together.

“I’ve run as many scans as I could of your face, your person...You don’t appear in any of my pre-existing databases. There’s nothing about you, your Homeworld, or your reason for entering Stasis...Anywhere.”

They wished they’d been sitting down for the news, maybe it wouldn’t have hit them as hard. It was a slap to the face, a backhanded insult to injury.

“...I shouldn’t exist?”

Response turned back to them, a panicked expression buzzing across his screen. “Well...It’s just that you don’t exist, it seems. Even the deceased would show a record, a birth date or a name. You, however...”

The words faded out. They blinked, vision darting around the room, before landing back on Response worriedly. The words fizzled from their mouth, hardly compromised in their brain wiped clean. “What am I going to do…?”

“What about a quick tour of the ship? It’s quite small, but perhaps seeing things will jog your memory! Or your lack thereof.”

“Lack thereof….” They repeated quietly, feeling worse in the pit of their stomach to the top of their head, as they staggered behind down the hall.

14) How do you deal with self-doubts?

I really suck at it asafkdsf but I always end up back at that cake analogy, where two cakes are better than just one! No matter how lumpy or messy it may seem, someone will always be out there and your story may be the one to change their life <3 So keep writing, and uploading!

15) How do you deal with writer’s block?

Oof, tough one! I listen to music that usually gets me back in the poetic mood (Hozier, or weirder playlists like voidcore, dreamcore, I love stuff like that) and stuff like that usually slowly gets me back in the writing mood. Also, write self indulgent stuff- It's fun and it helps when you're stuck on your wips!

34) What was the hardest scene you ever had to write?

Not necessarily a scene, but my first Zelda fanfic I wrote, Reaping Hook, was SO difficult. I wrote an entire story (bad idea-) for a BigBang, crunched it and spent so much time within like a five month deadline, and it still flopped >.<" I hope to one day rewrite it, but right now it's a reminder to never do that particular strategy again asdfdsfdsf

[ty-menace-blog]

⤷ title: 12:04

⤷ featuring: taeyong (nct) x reader

⤷ rating: purely soft

a/n: i thought about this after watching one of his studio lives, and knowing the credit he just doesn’t often receive for being such a hardworking, and incredible artist, i felt it was my duty to write deeper into that, but pls enjoy !

⤷ summary: late night studio talk.

»»————-　♔　————-««

It was late.

A million things were on your mind. You were completely distracted. You thought about how you could never be on time for anything. Not even for your best friend's midnight crisis. To tell the truth, he never actually slept at normal times, so he liked to call you up late at night to have someone to talk to and be around. It was fine. Sometimes you weren't able to fall asleep so it was nice to be bothered. You were always his first choice. Always the one he called up at random times either to just chat or come hang out. That was nice too.

As you walked along the streets of seoul, you noticed the first drop of snow that began to fall. You stopped, and craned your neck up to look at the sky. It was dark, but you could see each and every snowflake that fell, one landing at the tip of your nose. With a crinkle, it dissipated into water, and made your nose tingle.

You took a peek at the time on your watch. It was past midnight. A sigh left your cold lips. You knew that if you didn't hurry, he would send about a billion messages wondering where you were or whether you got lost again. It was his way of worrying about you.

You smiled. He liked to be motherly. It was annoying, yet cute at the same time. You didn't mind it. Not at all.

The further you got down the street, the more you realized that it really was late out. You only came across two other people that were out, and they looked to be in a hurry (unlike you). Perhaps because of the cold. Either way, it made you pick up the pace to avoid the texts that you were sentenced to get if you didn't get there quickly enough.

When you got there, it surprised you that he hadn't sent not one message considering you were about fifteen minutes late. Perhaps he was busy. That was what you assumed, anyway.

Upon opening the door to the building, the immediate warmth you felt washed over your body while the smell of freshly brewed coffee crept its way into your senses. With a soft smile, you let your feet carry you the rest of the way mindlessly. Soon enough, you were in front of the studio, two drinks from starbucks in hand. One, an iced caramel frappicino, the other a strawberry açaí with coconut milk. One of his favorite drinks. You could say he liked anything pink.

Before you were able to knock on the door, it swung open, surprising you.

Taeyong never cared about what he wore late at night when going to the studio unless he planned on doing a vlive so, there he was dressed down in dark grey sweatpants, a plain white long sleeved shirt and a pair of shoes he'd recently artworked on. The shirt looked a size too big for him, but he looked cozy. Whenever he wore clothes bigger than him, it always made him look so tiny. You remembered a few weeks back how he came over to your place wearing the largest hoodie you’d ever seen on him, baggy sweatpants and a pair of converse with the laces untied. It made him look several sizes smaller, and five years younger. He ended up being the little spoon that night. As if you minded. The body heat he radiated all night was worth it. Especially after a point during the night he ended up turning around to wrap all of his limbs around your entire body resulting to you waking up sweaty the next morning. It was still worth it, somehow. Maybe it was the redness in his cheeks, an eyebrow twitching after every other breath, and the way he’d grip onto you at the slightest of movement from you. The moment he mumbled, “stay”, was when you melted in his long arms, and fell right back to sleep despite the overwhelming heat.

So, okay, it was maybe definitely worth it.

Taeyong stood in front of you, an arm holding the door open, wearing a cheeky smile. He looked adorable. You wanted to pinch his cheek but refrained due to still holding the drinks, and knowing he would whine and protest about it even though he liked when you did it. Such a baby.

"Oh! You finally made it, huh?" Taeyong commented, his eyes instantly dropping from yours onto the pink drink you held in your hand. "Let me guess: you're late because you went and got yourself two drinks." He shook his head. "Cruel. I fell asleep waiting for you, and you go and- wow, so cruel,” he said with a cute pout.

So dramatic, you thought to yourself as you fought back an amusing smile, and handed him the drink.

"Don't tempt me or I might actually keep it," you taunted as he took it. You took a sip of your coffee, and grunted with a gesture at him to let you in. He stepped aside, and you walked into the small space that felt like a cozy, warm home.

There was a small candle near the door that made the room smell like tonka bean and jasmine. A modern floral earthy melange. It made the room feel comfortable. He always knew how to make a space his home. Particularly, the studio, considering he stayed in it for majority of his free time. He liked it. He called it his Creative Space. You found him to be ridiculously adorable sometimes. Maybe it was the names he gave things or more specifically the way he said them. Either way, it was cute, and you never missed a chance to tease him about it every single time he came up with one.

You hummed as you sat down in the chair next to his, and looked over what he had previously been doing.

"Any progress?" You asked, as you drummed your fingertips against the paper cup.

You knew that he had been working on a new song he was wanting to use for the comeback that was coming up for 127, but this particular song was a bit more difficult than, perhaps, any song he'd ever written. He tried to explain to you what the concept of the album was going to be about, but you never could understand it. You just knew that he had been having quite a hard time with it. It was pressuring, you knew that as well. It worried you how much of his time he had to spend to work on it. He hardly got any rest because of it, but he always reassured you that he didn't mind the hours of sleep he didn't usually get. Being an artist wasn't a job to him. It was a gift.

Back then, he didn't know how special he was, or what his talents were, but ever since then, he'd been grateful for the opportunity. He felt important. Like he had a purpose. When things got difficult, he liked to remember what he had to go through to get to where he was. Though, it seemed like this time was different.

Taeyong was sipping on his drink as his eyes roamed over the lyrics he was working on. You could practically see the wheels turning in his head. He looked conflicted.

He squinted, set the drink aside, and sighed. "I get so...caught up in myself sometimes, you know? I think to myself, am what I'm doing...is it enough? There are moments where I know what I want to do, like I'll have the exact vision in my mind but there are times like these where I question myself. Do people actually like what I put out? Or are they just being supportive because I'm me..”

Even from the side, you could see the astray glint in his eyes. You pushed your coffee off to the side, and moved closer to him. He turned to you slowly, looking anywhere but at you. You could see it. He felt ashamed to be so lost. You knew he didn't like to show that side of him. He was a vulnerable person, but also prideful. He only wanted you to see the best sides of him. Not the sides of him that sometimes felt like a thin paper in the wind going nowhere. He liked it when you were proud of him. He just didn't know that you always were, no matter what he did. In your eyes, he was phenomenal in every possible aspect. You were more than proud. You were thankful to be his friend. To know what it was like to see him on his tired days, his happy days, and even his sad days. You felt lucky.

"Taeyong.." You reached out a hand to put over his fumbling ones. "You're brilliant at what you do. Not many people can even do what you do on a daily basis. You lose sleep over all of this. That's dedication. That's having absolute love for what you do. There are always going to be a collective set of people that won't like what you put out either because it ends up not being their taste or simply because they may not like you personally for whatever the reason, but those aren't your audience. You don't have to worry about those people. Your fans? Those that actually appreciate what you do, and love it? They're your only audience. That's your aim. Also," you smiled. "-it's okay to get stuck sometimes. Book authors get writer's block all the time. They stop for about two weeks, then come right back at it again. You're not a superhero, Taeyong. You're human. You can't always do it all. I know you want to, but you simply can’t. Just know that I’m very proud of you for what you’ve done thus far. I really am.”

Taeyong sat there, looked in your eyes, and soaked up every word. His heart could've exploded right then and there. He loved that about you. Your utter support for him was more than enough to always get him right back on track. He appreciated you so much for it. He was grateful to have you in his life, even if he had a bit of trouble saying it. It made him happy to just know that you would always be there for him no matter what. You, his constant. He couldn't have felt any luckier.

"Thank you," he said softly, and took your hands in his, squeezing them gently. "I mean it, thank you for that. You always know what to say."

Your heart felt warm. If only he knew how you truly felt about him. Why you always got so defensive when it came to him doubting himself or worrying about whether people actually liked him. You wanted to tell him that none of that mattered above how you felt. That you’d always be there to support him.

It was hard to continue as if you only saw him as a friend. He made it so hard sometimes. A kiss to the cheek here, and hugs that lasted way too long. There would be moments where you’d ramble on and on about something, but caught him staring at your lips the entire time. As if he hadn’t listened to a word that you had said. Moments like he wanted to know what you’d do if he kissed you right then. Taeyong was quite easy to read. Especially for you. He was never able to hide anything from you. You could catch on easily.

You wondered when you would get the courage to tell him how you felt. Where your true feelings lain. His possible reaction to your confession still scared you enough to hold back, and resist telling him. To lose the friendship you two had, that scared you enough to want to never truly tell him how you felt.

“Ah, so,” Taeyong began as he turned back to screen in front of him. “I think I could use your input on some lyrics here. If they’re good enough, I might actually add them.” He gave you a wink. You couldn’t help but giggle as you drew closer to see the screen as well.

“What? Will I get credited on the album as well if my input happens to be good enough?” You asked, teasingly.

Taeyong shrugged, smiling. “Possibly. Wanna find out?”

You rose a curious eyebrow. “How can I say no to you?”

He laughed before smirking. “Easy. Just say n...n...oooo,” he taunted playfully as you slapped his arm, shaking your head.

There was no way that you could’ve thrown everything between you two away. What you two had was comfortable, and settling. You liked things the way that they were. You definitely could hold onto that confession a little longer.