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#N wants kisses too
jazzyblusnowflake · 4 months
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Love really bites
[a small vuzi snippet uwu yall liked the oil exchange with nuzi so you get this too >:3 ]
V and Uzi were sitting criss-cross in front of each other, feeling awkward but still looking determined- they wanted to try exchanging oil for V, since Uzi already did it often with N; but while they lean in slowly, V takes a peak and sees Uzi with visor eyes shut and looking stressed, her bottom jaw clattering softly for a moment as her body shakes lightly- V feels a slight pang of guilt and and scoffs "ugh" pushing Uzi back slightly "look I'm not doing this when you're so obviously terrified-"
"wh- i am NOT-!" she crossed her arms, looking away, a slight blush visible on her visor- "besides- don't you LIKE teasing and scaring me-
V rolls her eyes- also crossing her arms "uh- yeeeah. I like playing with my FOOD- not-!…..not you….." both of them pause momentarily at this small confession- "…. you're… more than that… I guess…" Uzi softly peaks at V as the other turns away blushing severely.
V suddenly shook her head "UGH never mind-!! this was stupid anyway-! ill just go find real food-"
"H-Hey wAIT!" before she knew what she was doing, Uzi had jumped and grabbed Vs arm as the taller drone stood up- so now they are both standing and staring at one another and Uzis hold on Vs arm with lots of blushing lines. Uzi looks away slightly "I uh…. we can try again if... if you want?…"
V's optics hallowed and she felt heat rising in her core- the fuck are these feelings ugh- no wonder Uzi hates that she's been programmed with them- "o-okay fine- since you insist- lets just get this over with then-"
Uzi lines their bodies so that they'd be standing and pressing against each other slightly and they both tried leaning in again slowly with closed eyes-
-when suddenly Uzi yelps as she is hoisted up on Vs arms "V! what the hell-!?"
V smirks up at her "sorry shorty, if I wanna get that oil I need gravity to slide it down your throat into mine-" she licks her fangs momentarily as her 5 real eyes pulsed slightly brighter with sparks which made Uzi blush even more- feeling slightly turned on at the display- she felt like V was gonna eat her alive and somehow she was fine with that-..............shOO BE GONE THOUGHTS-
Uzi shook her head "F- fine! ugh bite me-"
"be careful what you wish for~"
Uzi grumbles as V smirks wildly at her but instead of retorting with a snarky answer she lightly holds Vs cheeks and leans in again, her eyes fluttering closed as Vs smirk fades into a nervous frown and she swallows nervously as her hold tightens a little on the other drones back-
it starts with a peck and then they press their lips against each other more firmly, tilting their heads ever so slightly- and both of their frowns disappeared softly as they got more comfortable. Uzi's hands and fingers move from V's face and neck to threading and curling around in her hair and V purrs lightly at the small tugs.
slowly V pries open Uzis mouth a bit more with her tongue as she laps at the oil shared with her from against Uzis tongue and lips, making some run away drops slide past their mouths towards their chins.
V was surprised at how much more calming and energizing this felt; not particularly her style of work but…. she thinks that she could definitely get used to this… maybe... but then Uzi momentarily makes a small surprised sound that made V grip on her a little tighter subconsciously. Uzi presses slightly back against V's tongue with her own and her soft mewls fueled V in other ways-
Fuck her noises were almost as tasty as her oil, V thought momentarily before she caught herself-
They both part with a small gasp, swallowing whatever was left in their mouths and V had a few seconds to admire Uzi's light headed state from losing her oil before she blinked, slightly shaking herself out of it, blushing-
she put Uzi down a bit faster than intended but made sure she doesn't fall over- looking away and blushing, with Uzi doing the same- panting a little to get some chill air to her rapidly heating circuitry.
V thinks of what to say really cuz that was... certainly an experience she had.... "Uh yeah soo- thanks or whatever- that was.. definitely pretty boring to be honest, I can see why you'd like to do it all day with doodle boy over there-" she crosses her arms again looking away as she coughs lightly in her fist- blush lines being repressed but still visible-
Uzi blushes at the comment of her and N exchanging Oil- though she was hoping V didn't notice when they had parted Uzi was zoomed in on V's fangs and almost wanted her to ACTUALLY bite her like dear robo christ on a jet fueled scooter-
she ends up looking away too at V's words, blush painfully obvious "you're WELCOME for not letting you starve or whatever-! not like i care or anything hmph-"
they both stay like that looking away for a while… when Uzi notices V's tail wagging slightly behind her... oh.
"….b-but if you wanted any more… well uhh- you know where to find me I guess... ykNOW-! CUZ- it'd be a drag if we had to constantly deal with you over heating and stuff- y-yeah- that-!" she explains with a slight panic and waving her hands around
V looked at her with hollowed eyes and blushes as her tail twisted around her leg to keep it from wagging more- "um.. y-yeah totally sure- whatever- doubt ill NEED it tho- she slightly looks away, her finger playing with a strand of her own hair-
suddenly there was a sound of a loud clang and they both look at N jumping in the pod giddily with a loud "im baaack-!"
they both turn towards him looking gobsmacked with blushes and N had a moment of pausing and looking at Vs slightly ruffled hair and the two of them wiping the oil dripping from their mouth and chins-
N's expression turned into a deadpan one- "I leave for like…. 5 MINUTES… and you guys are making out without me??? >:( "
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dizzybizz · 3 months
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"this is regrettably the best kiss of your life, you understand?"
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eve-baird · 3 months
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mamawasatesttube · 2 months
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timcassie is so compelling to me. they were not into each other even a little bit. it was such a messy coping mechanism fuelled entirely by grief. they were making out with each other because they were both substituting each other for kon. cassie was far more aware she was doing this than tim was. unironically, dating a girl here is one of the gayest things tim has done
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you drink your coffee black and we are afraid of each other ; shoko ieiri
synopsis; shoko makes you a morning cup of coffee; turns out she’s not very good at that, but it’s the thought that counts.
word count; 4.2k
contents; shoko ieiri/reader, gn!reader (but written w a fem!reader in mind), fluff fluff fluff!!, just normal morning shenanigans at the ieiri household, implied stsg (my brand), shoko can be a girlfailure. as a treat, reader is absolutely whipped (and so am i)
a/n; been writing too much gojo n geto lately. neglecting my wife :((((((( let it be known that i am a shoko stan first human second. this one is for my wlws pls eat up!!!!
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you wake up to the sound of your girlfriend’s voice.
melodic and soft, low and saccharine; almost like she’s coaxing you out of hiding. a sound so lovely you wish you could drown in it, laced together with a distinctly raspy tilt, one you can only attribute to the copious amounts of cigarettes she smoked back in high school. a leftover residue, bittersweet memories ghosting her lips — one that gets you a little bit weak in the knees.
in the mornings, it’s particularly prominent, a little intoxicating. manifesting itself as a shiver down your spine, a jolt of your heartbeat, a flush on your skin for every word that she speaks. it’s enough to have you slipping from sleep’s embrace, carried back into the cradle of reality.
why you notice her voice first, and not the smell of something burning — or the sound of insistent beeping — is honestly beyond you. 
it doesn’t take long for your sleepy brain to react, however, a pang of anxiety rushing through your slumbering veins. hurriedly stirring you awake. abrupting your dreamlike, drowsy state, tangled up in silken sheets with your neck smudged by lipstick marks; an alluring red, one shoko typically favors when she’s going out for a drink. coming home just a tiny bit tipsy, affectionate and giggly.
and when your eyelids finally flutter open, your mind melting into the motion of the waking world, you shoot up in a sudden bout of panic.
because fuck, you belatedly, groggily realize — that’s the fucking fire alarm.
and shoko is spewing curses, from afar, loud enough that you can hear it even through the fog of fatigue that clouds your brain. a raspy string of words that you don’t quite catch, but they’re enough to have you scrambling out of bed, nearly bumping into the doorframe as you kick the blanket off your legs.
”what happened?” you croak out, chest heaving a little, having stumbled into the smoke-filled kitchen. disgruntled, reeling with the aftermath of your deep slumber, cold air nipping at your bare skin. the balcony door is open, and the smell of rain invades your apartment.
when you look out the window, all you see is a gray sky, blanketed by a thick coating of wool. smothered by clouds, not a single ray of sunlight slipping through the cracks. the world smells dewy and sweet, asphalt and flowers melting into a nostalgic fragrance, one that reminds you a bit of high school smoke breaks — huddling under the slide at the nearest playground, watching a pretty girl wrap her lips around a cigarette, exhaling smoke just for it to melt into the pouring rain.
one that reminds you a bit of the woman right in front of you, balancing on a chair and stretching her goosebump-ridden arms towards the ceiling, wearing nothing but a lacey bra and a pair of unbuttoned jeans. messy hair that cascades down her back, brows furrowed, eyes simmering with irritation — before flitting over to meet your own.
shoko blinks. then sighs. ”you woke up?” she mutters, and you try not to shiver when the tremor of her voice deepens, morning-fatigue seeping into the syllables. “fuck. sorry, i —”
she stumbles a little, shifting her weight from one foot to another, and you take a step forward. on instinct, as if getting ready to cushion her fall. ready to be of service, in any way you can.
”don’t worry,” she fumbles with the fire alarm, clicking her tongue. nails scraping against plastic. “it’s fine, i just need to — there we go.” 
finally, the beeping stops. and your shoulders relax, immediately, the tight little ball inside your chest untangling. with a deep inhale, the fragrance of espresso and smoke fills your nostrils, and a sense of calm washes over you. rooting your feet to the floor. 
shoko settles down, too, seating herself on the wooden chair. a huff slipping from her lips. they’re smudged, a blurry red she still hasn’t found the energy to wipe away. 
bringing a hand up to card through her hair, lithe fingers in between her messy auburn locks, she exhales. a blend between fatigue and relief.
”god. i need a cig.”
a moment passes. she raises her head, and sees the sleepy little pout playing at your lips — her eyes softening. blooming with something fond. giving you a smile, tired, small. but reassuring. 
”i’m just kidding, love,” she chuckles. “relax.”
”don’t joke about that,” you frown, rubbing the sleep from your weary eyes. stifling a tiny yawn. ”.. took me so long to get you to quit.”
(sometimes you can still see the smoke leave her lungs when she exhales.)
shoko keeps smiling, but doesn’t say anything else. the pitter patter of rain against your balcony railing fills the silence of the kitchen, still brimming with a light layer of smoke, slowly dwindling. cold air drawing it out. clad only in one of suguru’s old t-shirts, you shiver, and shoko seems to notice.
“good morning,” she coaxes, opening her arms slightly — and you move forward, a moth to a flame. without thinking. “sorry for waking you.”
she wraps her arms around your waist, attaching her jaw to the curve of your shoulder, and you melt into the embrace. leaning close, to tuck yourself into her neck. she smells like lavender shampoo. “‘s fine,” you mumble, a yawn muffled into her collarbone. “what happened? are you okay?”
when her plump lips press against the sensitive skin of your neck, right next to one of the kiss marks she left there last night, you can’t help but shiver again. she must feel it, because you can hear the smile she’s trying to bite back in her voice when she answers.
“mm,” she hums, a gravelly noise that makes your throat clog up a little. “just burned something, it’s fine. don’t worry.”
tentatively, you take a step back. just to see her. gazing down at her, into her hazel eyes, the fading crescents beneath them. not as dark as they used to be, not as heavy with lost sleep.
shoko is gorgeous. always, every single day, but you think she’s particularly breathtaking like this. when it’s early, and she’s groggy and a little disheveled, eyes weary and lipstick smudged — bra strap close to slipping off her shoulder, black lace against pale skin, moles littering her forearms and chest like star clusters. oversized jeans that expose the curve of her waist, the fat of her hips, and you don’t notice how intently you’re staring until shoko’s raspy voice reaches your burning ears.
“eyes up here, baby.”
you do as you’re told, and she stifles a chuckle. eyes rich with amusement. you try not to blush.
“sorry.” you chew at the inside of your cheek. eyes trailing to the houseplants by the windowsill. “.. you’re just so pretty.”
shoko tilts her head, an exasperated little breath rolling off her tongue. almost a coo. she’s incapable of blushing; but if she wasn’t, you’re sure she'd blush. 
“thanks.” her touch is light, fingertips trailing down the expanse of your arm. “you are, too. red is a good colour on you.”
you blink. shoko’s eyes are crinkled at the edges, soft lines of crows’ feet, and you huff when you realize she’s talking about the marks on your neck. suddenly a little self-conscious, you bring a hand up to rub at the skin — as if hoping to wipe them away. you doubt it works. shoko just breathes out an airy chuckle, getting up from her seat.
she looks tired, still. stretching her limbs out, sleepily, blinking drowsily.
and it’s odd, you think. that she got up this early, that she didn’t cling to you and make you stay with her in bed like she usually does. you don’t know anyone who loves sleeping in more than shoko does. especially after a night out.
so it’s strange. very strange.
“hey, sho.”
“hm?”
you tilt your head. “why are you up this early, anyway?”
she blinks, and then glances at the clock on the wall. ticking idly, counting down. when she looks back at you, she’s got a single eyebrow raised. “it’s not really early.”
“for you it is,” you quip, something resembling a grin tugging at your lips. and she rolls her eyes, smiling, before linking her arm with yours. bringing you to the stove.
“i was, uh —“ a pause. she does a little cough under her breath, clearing her throat. “trying to make coffee.”
silently, you look at the mess in front of you; what used to be your squeaky-clean stovetop, now stained with a muddy, rusty residue. an unassuming coffee pot sits to the side, having seemingly boiled over, smoke still drifting up into the air.
shoko cringes, a little, before a wry smile makes its way to her lips. ”it was…” she clicks her tongue. sighing softly. ”an attempt.”
”… wait.” you turn to look at her, dubiously, and she avoids your gaze. ”that’s what you burned? coffee?” still no answer. a tiny smile tugs at your lips, and you can’t help it if your voice comes out sounding a little teasing. ”how is that even possible?”
”look,” shoko exhales, heavy. ”i don’t know, okay? i think it was the coffee grounds, or something. i look away for one second, and it’s just —”
a little giggle slips from your lips, and shoko shoots you a glare. mostly harmless, but she untangles her arm from your own. ”sorry, it’s just —” you apologize, failing to hide your amusement. ”why didn’t you just use the espresso machine, honey?”
she bites her lip, and you think she might be just a little embarrassed. averting her gaze, briefly flitting towards the machine in question. ”… i didn’t know how to use it,” she mutters. ”i’ve seen you do it, obviously, but i never paid attention to the steps.”
a smile graces your lips. consoling. “it’s not that complicated once you know how it works,” you nudge her arm with your elbow. ”it just looks that way.”
she hums. a click of her tongue, as she adjusts her bra strap. ”well, anyway. i tried. so.”
”right.” you try to stifle a grin, to no avail. ”so… you burned your coffee.”
”and woke you up.” she grins, herself, just a tiny bit self-deprecating. but pretty, always, hair falling over her eyes when she tilts her head. ”a mess, aren’t i?”
”not at all.”
shoko looks at you, and your eyes meet hers. unflinchingly. tired irises falling into the gentle hue of your own, trickling down to the curve of your lips. there’s an honesty to your voice that she’s never quite been able to deal with. 
(love, she thinks. a kind of love she finds somewhat hard to stomach. a sea of acceptance that she fears she’ll eventually drown in.)
before she can properly fall into a morning spiral, you stretch your neck a bit, idly, and she gets a good look at the red marks littering your skin. the way your pulse beats at the base of your throat. tender, slight, a mantra she’s grown just a little bit addicted to. 
”why, though?” you hum, and shoko blinks. snapped out of her thoughts, and back into reality. back into you, the faux pout on your lips. playful, but a little confused. ”i thought i was the coffee brewer of this relationship…” 
and it’s true. you’ve been making shoko’s morning cups of coffee for a while, now, even before you moved in together. she likes it black, sometimes with a drop of cream, sometimes with a cube of sugar. never both. you think it’s very like her, to tiptoe that line between bitter and sweet — never entirely giving in to one or the other. there’s a balance to shoko, something stable. something for you to hold on to, a bitter tinge or syrupy taste that always leaves you yearning for more.
truthfully, your coffee brewing skills aren’t anything special. but it makes shoko happy, to wake up and stumble into the kitchen, being able to hug your back. being handed a cup of fresh coffee. sipping from it in silence, muttering out a groggy good morning that makes your heart flutter.
(to you, it’s precious. that lilt of her voice, that bittersweet tinge. the dearest thing in the world.)
plump bottom lip trapped between her teeth, shoko furrows her brows. ever so slightly. nails tapping at the edge of the kitchen counter, a series of satisfying clicks against the marble. “… well.” 
she clears her throat, but doesn’t say anything else. a moment passes. you try to find the answer in the curve of her lips, the crease of her brow, in the depths of her eyes — but you don’t succeed.
something discomforting settles in the bottom of your throat. almost uncertain, maybe a bit anxious. sheepish, as your tired mind spins in circles. parting your lips. hesitant.
“do you… not like the way i make it?” there’s a dejected tilt to your voice when it spills out, one that makes you feel a little silly. so you smile, or try to, eyes trailing towards the windows; you note that the rain has grown heavier. “i can change how —“
“what?” shoko cuts you off. “no. no, of course not — your coffee’s perfect. honestly.”
again, your eyes meet. and again, shoko seems to be struggling with finding the right words. or maybe she’s struggling to voice them.
“i just… haah.” she brings a hand up to her face, pinching the bridge of her nose. you just watch, silent, hungry to hear the thoughts she’s not letting you in on.
a beat. again, the sound of the rain against steel railings, the scent of honeydew and concrete. espresso-flavored smoke, almost entirely faded, leaving only cold air to nip at your thighs. 
and again, as always, inevitably, your eyes are fixed on shoko — a moth to her flame. helpless to the cinders that ghost at your skin whenever she looks at you. a certain contemplation swims inside her eyes, simmering beneath the surface, as she chews gently at the plush of her lips. before turning to face you.
you can only blink. but shoko finally speaks, clearing her throat in a way that strikes you as rather sheepish.
“well — you’re always the one doing all the work. aren’t you?” her voice trickles out into the air, low and saccharine, a blanket pulled over your shoulders. so soft you hold your breath and strain your ears, just to make sure you hear it. “i guess i figured… i don’t know.”
shoko pauses, again, and you can almost delude yourself into thinking there’s a cherry red tint to the tips of her ears. when she parts her lips, that usually carefree voice of hers sounds almost meek. almost, but not quite. more like unsure. embarrassed?
another moment passes, entirely silent. shoko swallows her pride.
“.. satoru always brags about suguru making him those fucked up sugary drinks he likes,“ she mumbles. turning around, to rest her back against the counter, looking out at the downpour. “says it makes him feel so loved. or whatnot. so i just —“ 
she waves her hand, haphazardly. 
“you know.“
a beat. then another. you can physically feel your lips part, a kind of surprise weaving itself into the contours of your face. 
and when you finally speak, your voice comes out a little garbled, scrambling for the right words. not sure if you should feel deeply amused, or just a tiny bit horrified. “wait. you’re saying you…” a moment passes. silent, slow, and all you can do is blink owlishly. in disbelief.
“… got inspired by suguru?”
shoko groans, deep and gravelly, almost comically agonized. covering her face with her pretty hands. “don’t say it,” she pleads, “you’re making it sound as dumb as it is.”
a little giggle slips from your lips. accidental, but she still shoots you a displeased look, huffing under her breath. crossing her arms just to tap at her forearm with her nimble fingers. frowning.
“don’t laugh at me.”
“sorry,” you search for her gaze, but she keeps looking ahead. so stubborn. “i don’t mean to, ‘s just — not very like you, y’know?”
shoko exhales. nearly a huff, but not quite. and you think she must be embarrassed, gnawing at her lip like that, fingers eagerly searching for something to fidget with. it makes you soften, impeccably, the blood inside your veins warming up beneath your skin. stirring you, coaxing you into soothing her. your very own heartbeat seems to be a little enamored with shoko ieiri.
”i appreciate the thought,” you smile. a tender tone, sincere. lingering with amusement. “really. but let’s not base our entire relationship around satoru and suguru of all people, alright?”
and again, she sighs. brittle, a little fatigued. brows scrunching together. ”look, i —”
a pause. she gnaws at her plump bottom lip, eyelashes fluttering like a battered heartbeat. her voice comes out sounding soft, all duvet pillows and fresh lavender, a lilt that anchors you to earth. sweet words. so honest it makes your breath hitch.
”i want to take care of you.”
and this time, you’re the flustered one. burning under her gaze, feeling a heat blossom on your skin. feeling the fervent pitter patter of your heartbeat, as her pretty eyes look into yours. a nice mocha brown. 
but even with the fresh embarrassment trickling through your veins, you find it in you to speak. desperate, maybe, to cross the distance between you — even when it borders on non-existent. desperate to feel your heartbeats synchronize, figuratively or literally. to stitch them together.
“i want to take care of you, too,” you echo, looking down at the floor. and then back at your girlfriend. hesitant, a tad shy. but sincere.
a sincerity so palpable it makes shoko feel a little jealous. 
(sometimes, she finds herself wanting to put a hand inside your chest. dig around your organs, run her fingertips down every single one, until she finds what she's looking for. that miraculous something that makes you stick around, that makes you so frighteningly easy to love. that makes her want to safeguard you so terribly.)
”then let’s take care of each other,” she breathes, a small smile slipping into the curve of her lips. reaching out to brush against your knuckle, weave your fingers together. delicate. 
she clears her throat. “… i guess.” 
and you can’t help but smile. somewhat cheeky, a little teasing. “ah,” your eyes crinkle, and you stifle a coo. “did that embarrass you?”
a sharp little scoff. shoko gives you a lazy grin, paired with a soft roll of her eyes. brushing her thumb across your knuckles, even still. “oh, shut up.”
the world seems to still, ever so slightly, as you look into each other’s eyes. like everything else is just background noise, from the pitter patter of the rain to the fading smell of coffee all around you. shoko looks at you like she’s trying to see inside your brain, see what makes you tick, see you for what you are.
and when she eventually leans in for a kiss, you’re pliant. expectant. her lips against yours, breathing you in, as soft as ever. like she’s afraid of getting too greedy. she tastes like nectar and cosmetics.
“give me some time,” she says, after pulling back. hands on your waist, squeezing softly. “i’ll make you another cup right now.”
”sure you don’t want me to do it?” you ask. “i don’t mind.”
another little scoff. offended. ”look, i’m not incompetent, okay? i’m just not used to it.” she untangles herself from you, warmth slipping away. you will yourself not to chase it. “just stand there and look pretty for me.”
and she smiles, when those words make you giggle, infected by your sleepy joy. something soft and silky blooms inside her ribcage, mirrored by the glimmer in your eyes when you intertwine your hands again. fingertips brushing against each other, delicate, a love that’s handled with care.
”.. i like making you coffee,” you whisper after a beat. smiling. under your breath, like you’re telling her a secret. ”it makes me happy.”
a moment passes. something in shoko’s bones still, for a second, enough for you to notice. and her eyes fill with a kind of hesitance. doubt, maybe. or fear.
when shoko opens up to you, it’s always like this. sleepy, rainy days, or tipsy afternoons. in no more than a whisper, a fragile breath, the ghost of a confession. when you can feel her heartbeat, one finger on her wrist, listening to the rhythm of her pulse. intimate. a little clumsy, but…
”i just don’t want you to spend too much of yourself on me.”
the words are spoken in passing, almost casually, a lighthearted kind of resignation. a hungry ghost. one that follows her, follows you. suguru and satoru, too. there’s a lump in her throat, you can tell, something that makes it a little harder to say what she means. an intimacy that frightens her in a way nothing else can; frightened to hold it in her palms, to keep it close without having it break apart.
(not just her — you all are. all four of you. that’s why you've always been together, you think, why you always will be. four hedgehogs huddling together in the cold of night, too desperate for warmth to stay away from each other's spines.)
carefully, almost cautiously, you bring her hand to your lips. as if you’re handling a flimsy sheet of glass. featherlight, a touch so tender you hope she knows what you’re about to say before the words leave your throat.
“you’re worth it,” is whispered against her skin, your lips against her knuckles. shoko softens, but you think the sigh that slips from her lips sounds just a little shaky. “always.”
and finally, you know you aren't deluding yourself. it’s there, visible, the cherry red of her ears; a red that matches the lipstick on your skin. a flush that never travels down to her face. but it’s enough.
she clears her throat. voice beginning to change shape, slowly but surely, morning fatigue peeled off with the ticking of the clock. there’s still a raspy residue, leftover smoke that’ll never quite leave her lungs, but it’s silkier now. trickling like honey from her parted lips.
and it’s terribly soft, her tongue twisting around the vowels, a low lilt that drips with tenderness. she wills herself to smile. tired, but fond. “just let me make you one cup, then.”
so you do.
you let her, after briefly pointing out the functions of the far too expensive espresso machine that satoru bought you when you first moved in, and she listens intently. those pretty eyes, the intelligence behind them, her lips pursed in focus. shoko’s a genius, you’ve always thought — so effortlessly good at memorization, at figuring out how things work. what ties everything together. 
you think it’s a little comical that she struggled so much with making coffee, of all things, but you choose to attribute it to her slight hangover.  
because she’s focused, when she begins to fiddle with the machine. attentive. as if she’s dissecting it. a satisfaction in the way she moves, the way everything clicks into place as she works. everything serves a purpose, every single part in the machinery, every tube or pump of caffeine. she compares it to the human body, a glint in her eyes, and you can’t disagree.
all you can do is watch her. silently, entirely mesmerized. sitting on the kitchen counter, bare thighs against the marble, swinging your legs. telling her about the dream you had, while she listens. always.
a fresh, thick aroma of espresso and rainwater begins to waft through the apartment. one you drink in, greedy, steam filling your lungs. as you admire how the tiny droplets bounce off the hyacinths blooming on your balcony.
and when she’s finished, producing one cup of espresso, tailored to your liking, you can’t still the beating of your heart. unsure if you should blame it on the caffeine yet to enter your veins, or the proud smile that lingers on your girlfriend’s lips. maybe the way her fingers curl around the handle, the way a soft here, baby, spills from her smudged lips. all of the above, probably.
she’s gorgeous. breathtaking. sometimes you want to give her everything, more than you could live without. your heart, your lungs, your eyes. anything she asks for.
but she would never. all she’ll ever need is for you to keep sticking around, keep telling her about your silly dreams, keep letting her feel the beat of your pulse at the base of your throat. a mantra she’s fallen a little bit in love with.
and when you put your lips against the ceramic, and a bittersweet scent fills your lungs, you think you can taste it. that care, a love soft enough to mend all the jagged edges of your heart.
shoko smiles. smoothing a stray eyelash from your skin, thumb against your cheekbone. “how is it?”
(you swear it’s the best cup of coffee you’ve ever had.)
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bewilderedbuck · 1 year
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anyways. i hope byler makes out until they cant breathe n have to pull away gasping for air in s5
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undergoing-mitosis · 1 month
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what if i impulsively bought the lawlight figurine. what then.
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andy-clutterbuck · 9 months
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6x16 | Last Day on Earth
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axl-rose-lover-1987 · 7 months
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onlyjaeyun · 28 days
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i can't believe im saying this..the chap's actually done 🤕 editing and uploading it in a few i'm shocked
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cinna-bunnie · 2 months
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trying to figure out if i actually like sex or i just like everything else about it. do u know what i mean..? it's hard to put into words
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eggnoodles0up · 3 months
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TOO MANY TMAGP THOUGHTS!!!! NOT ENOUGH MENTAL CAPACITY TO ARTICULATE THEM!!!! SEND HELP!!!!
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jadewritesficshere · 1 year
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18+ Only MDNI
Steve who loves every inch of you. Steve who kisses you silly and holds your hand during sex. Steve who makes sure to call you beautiful every day, because to him you are the most beautiful person he's ever seen and every day he falls more in love with you.
Steve who finds out you don't see yourself as beautiful, who thought you had brushed his compliments off because you were shy not because you didn't believe him. Steve who holds you as you cry over your insecurities. Steve who spends extra time kissing where you are most insecure, making sure to lather you with love. Steve who washes your mouth out with soap every time he hears you talk bad about yourself (it's supposed to be a punishment and he knows you would enjoy being spanked too much). Steve who makes you watch yourself in the mirror while he fucks you, so you can see how he loves you and how hot you are. Steve who buys a thesaurus to find synonyms for beautiful that he can call you. Steve who loves every inch of you and hopes that you can start to love every inch of yourself.
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slashingdisneypasta · 5 months
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Foxy Coltrane x Fem!Reader || Excerpts
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Plot: A few (5) of your many 💋kisses💋 with Foxy Coltrane. They aren't really in any particular order.
'I just wanted to know what it would be like.' - Gilmore Girls
Warnings: Sexual references + kissing gifs. Reader is pretty obsessed. Unedited.
***the 'fem' part in the title can be taken with a grain of salt. I only put it because the gifs are all hetero. If that doesn't bother you, theirs actually no mention that the reader is feminine in the writing.
1; The first time.
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Your lips touch his, your hands sliding up a moth eaten american flag shirt and the warm chest under it and they reach his shoulders, and its absolutely everything you thought it would be. He grins against your mouth like he just won a bet and strong arms wrap around you; holding you still. Literally caging you in.
If you hadn't already committed to this madness, then you probably would have the good sense to be afraid of that. But you wanted this. You thought about it, you considered the pros and the cons, the feel of his lips on yours vs the feel of his fingers in your guts, and the desire to kiss him won by a landslide.
You must be crazy.
Foxy kisses just like how you would imagine a 55-year-old borderline feral classic to kiss- all encompassing, that beard rubbing your face in an oddly pleasant way and his big hands grabbing your hips just like they belong there. Like you're his. He takes his time kissing you, his mouth moving carefully on yours, just enjoying it; a hot piece of ass like you just walkin' up and kissing him out of nowhere. He's definitely game for shit like that.
When you have to breathe and separate just for air, he tries to follow you for half a second, but settles for giving you a mischievous, almost smug grin and dropping his forehead against yours. "... well hi." He drawls, his voice a slow crawl that makes you feel things. Terrible, dangerous things.
Breathless and eyes glazed over with want. Everything about the older man is perfect to you- how can he be so handsome?? How can he be so hot? And interesting? And the fact that he's considerably saner then his brother and sister is definitely a bonus for you. "I just wanted to know... what it would be like."
"Oh? Making out with an old guy?" Foxy teases. "Kinky little bitch, huh?"
"Making out with you." You admit boldly, your hands still on his shoulders and watch his face transform into a wicked grin.
"'s that so?... " He looks thoughtful and impressed and intrigued by you, his eyes soft but daunting at the same time. "You sure about that? Kinda dangerous, dontcha think?... "
Definitely. "I think it was worth it."
"You wanna get outta here?"
2; When he comes back after a trip away from you.
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"Fox!" As soon as you saw him laid back half-slumped in the cushions on your couch, his knees spread wide manspreading like an ass, and an old black-and-white on your tv, and that slow smirk on his handsome face after he was gone for 2 months, your mood is completely lifted. You had the l o n g e s t day at work and you were ready to absolutely collapse but the effect he has on you is an instant recharge. A slow grin spreads across your face as you close the door behind you. You've missed him so bad-
"Hey there sweetheart. Been a while this time. My bad." The way his eyes flicker down your body and back up to your face again, the happy-to-see-you grin on his handsome rugged face, lights you up inside even brighter. He came here to see you!! He's happy to see you!! "C'mere."
You don't hesitate a second before crossing the room and settling in his lap, connecting your lips in a searing kiss full of all the want you've had to compartmentalise and put away all the time that he was not here. He barely moves, seeming lazy as he just lifts his chin to kiss you back. He doesn't need to move; you're in control (at least he lets you believe you are, 'cuz he likes you) and you're already nice and close in his lap, your knees digging into the couch cushions on either side of his camo-clad hips.
You went from negative one hundred to positive two hundred so fast you're already clenching around nothing, and so when he puts his hands on your hips (His big, dangerous, experienced wolfman hands) and encourages you to grind down on his hard bulge - which must have already been hard before you walked in, - you're happy to oblige. The kiss has to stop, at that- an inconceivable sigh of relief choking you at the feeling you missed; your head pressing into his shoulder as your hips slowly move against him.
"There, there, baby... I'm back... "
3; When Otis is looking at you a certain kind of way.
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You hate Otis' attention. You hate being around Otis- he nearly killed you when you first met the Fireflies, after all, and it was only Baby who kept you alive cuz you were a good playmate (now of course you're Foxy's playmate, instead though. Funny how things change). But even now he sometimes looks at you, and you can tell he still wants to kill you after all this time. Pull you apart and make something new out of your pieces. Otis hasn't become attached to you in the slightest- he never would. In his head you will always be prey.
The whole time Otis has been sticking near to you tonight and picking on you Foxy has been behind you, telling him to back the hell off you whenever he goes too far, or just glaring. Otis knows what he's doing, knows he shouldn't be messing with you (You're Foxy's), but of course he doesn't care.
When Otis crosses the line with Fox (Finally. He crossed the line as far as you're concerned 3 seconds in), referring to you as 'meat, you're sure Foxy's going to pick up your hand and take you both out of there. Leave. Go somewhere where it can be just the two of you.
You're shocked when he sits down in a chair and guides in between his legs, one hand on your waist drawing you in for a deep kiss thats would be completely indecent in any other social group but the Fireflies. A surprised noise slips out of you but after he uses the opening to slip his tongue into your mouth, you get quiet; obediently kissing him back. Needily kissing him back. You're absolutely all his and you can never ever help it when he kisses you. He kisses you, and its all over. Any restraint you had, any nervousness or fear (Of him, of Otis, of your own psychotic desires for this evil man) disappear and all you have is a want for the warm familiar feel of him under your skin.
He knows it.
He knows as soon as he does this to you you wont be scared, anymore. You'll forget all about Otis. And Otis'll lose all interest.
And just like that, with Foxy's tongue deep in your mouth and his hand on your waist squeezing the fat there gently and making you crazy, Otis rolls his eyes and gets up. You don't even notice him leave, your fingers losing themselves in your Foxes hair just like the rest of you is lost in him.
Foxy cracks his eyes open, still kissing you, to watch him walk off. Too fucken easy.
4. Slow kisses when you're alone and you have plenty of time.
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Sometimes the stars and the planets all align and your free wolfman stays. Foxy gets that still energy about him- like he's not going anywhere this time, at least for now, like here with you is exactly where he most wants to be in the world- and thats saying something because Foxy can go anywhere he wants to. Have whatever he wants. do whatever he wants. At least thats what you think.
At least he can get whatever he wants, from you.
During these times where he's still, not going away, you hope to be alone. No Fireflies, no Spaulding, no scary Otis.
Because- g o d.
When you are alone-
Theirs something oddly romantic about him, something from those old movies he likes in the way he touches you. His lips on yours are soft, teasing, setting your nerves on fire and making you moan. He'll sit on the couch for hours with you just tasting your lips, and your tongue, and your cheeks and jaw and neck and anywhere else he can reach. And when you get up to eat, or shower, or go to the bathroom, its not long before the possessive-obsessive wolfman comes up behind you and starts all over again.
He presses your front against a wall and lathers your neck and shoulders in those maddening gentle kisses, he feels up your spine with the tips of his dirty fingernails while you're cooking something on the stove and then sucks the darkest hickey you've ever seen into the crook of your neck (It'll be so sensitive to the touch after. He'll leave the same ones in all sorts of other places on you, too), he'll kiss you deep until you get lightheaded from the sheer lack of air.
He makes you even more addicted to him. Makes it even worse when he inevitably leaves again.
But... while it lasts....
5. The kiss in the middle of a fight.
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Its honestly the hardest thing in the world for you to be mad at this man- because he could hurt you. But also because you love him. And also because he refuses to listen!!
"You are the most frustrating- are you hearing me??"
He looks up from a machete set across his knees, which he was picking blood clots off of with his bare fingernails, and raises his brows. "... huh?"
"Ughhhhh!" You just got finished telling him what was bothering you, and he was off in la la land!! Frustration washes through you like a tidal waive and you don't know what to do with yourself. He does this every time!! You're pretty sure he does it on purpose! Unsure what to do with yourself, you whip around and storm off- ignoring his 'wait, hold on, wait, wait!- '.
When suddenly his hand wraps around your wrist like a vice and whips you back around to him you end up slamming right against his chest. You try to back up and storm away again but his other hand comes down on your arm and holds you still. "Hold on, there. What's the problem, sweetcheeks?"
"Whats the pr-!? " Ohhhhh. "Let me go, I'm leaving!"
"Come on, clue me in."
"I did! You weren't listening!"
"Alright, shit, well I didn't think it was something important. Fuck me. Alright, siddown, my ears are wideee open."
"No!"
"I'm not givin' you a choice."
Instead of arguing with that you just start struggling against him again, and he watches half-annoyed at your little attempts; wriggling your wrist in his grip and trying to yank your other arm away from him- you budge him but he doesn't let go. "Fuck- "
Eventually his annoyance turns into amusement, watching you wriggle like a worm on a hook. "Goddamnit, you're cute." A slow smirk spreads across his face looking down at you. "Makes me wanna do stuff to ya. Stuff ya like. Too bad you're so upset... woulda been a fun couple hours."
Thats, admittedly, makes you falter. Even give up. Fuck. Breathless, you stop your fighting and look up at him with big frustrated bambi eyes. "... what?"
"You heard me."
"I'm mad at you." He cant do this to you!! This isn't fair! He's an ass, and he deserves to be mad at for a while.
"I know, I know." The grin on his face spreads as he steps in closer to your body, now that you're not actively trying to get away from him anymore; he knows he's got you. You can feel his warmth against your skin through layers of clothes. "... but come on, that'll just make it more fun, right?"
"... " You part your lips to respond, agree with him or deny him some more even though you know you want to give in, when you realise his grip on you loosened. Your heartbeat immediately picks up and thank god he doesn't realise it because a moment later you're gone from his grip and storming off again.
This time you make it a mere 2 feet before he catches you again and drags you back right against him this time; smothering your laughter and his amused grin at your cheek with his mouth.
The kiss immediately destroys any last resolve you had for yourself and you ring your arms up around his neck; slipping your tongue into his mouth.
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angelbambisworld · 1 day
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Warning: Flashing Lights(I don't wanna accidentally give someone a seizure. Pls I can't go to prison again😮‍💨)
Okay but what was with that hand motion he did on his titties.
I swear to God he must have some kind of psychic power cuz just a second ago I was thinking about sucking on his titties and then I see this.
Also as many people have pointed out, Gene had a hole in his pants.
😳I wonder if this is how Victorian men felt when they saw a girl's ankles😳
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alwaysneedyforsir · 26 days
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back to bad habits (staying absurdly late at practice)
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