Aah, Can I Also Request Some Letters For RK800 And RK900? M, S And Y, Please!

Aah, can I also request some letters for RK800 and RK900? M, S and Y, please!

Alphabet Headcanons

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human

Character(s): RK800 (Connor), RK900 (Nines)

Type of Request: Alphabet Headcanons

Note(s): Calling RK900 Nines just because I like that better than his model number!

M - Memory (what is their favourite memory with you?)

Connor

A favorite memory he thinks fondly of from time-to-time is when he went on a walk in the park with you. It's simple and the moment was on the casual side rather than romantic, but he noticed how relaxed and happy you looked.

The smile on your face and seeing you stress-free is kept in his memory banks. Sometimes, he finds himself smiling at the memory popping up out of nowhere.

Nines

It was after a chase with finding a deviant android, one that murdered for the sake of enjoying it than defense. Nines saw you retreat to the roof of the building and he followed you, curious as to what your intentions were. You ended up just talking, mentioning similar cases with humans. Nines added to your comments with logic and how faulty programming caused this.

Nothing romantic happened at all, but hours were spent just talking under the night sky and Nines ends up going back to that moment quite a bit, it was the first moment that he really felt that he got to see you.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Connor

I feel like Connor would be very protective over you once he's reached deviancy. He realizes his feelings and doesn't like the idea of you being hurt in any way, but he also has to stop himself from rushing to your side every time because he knows that level of protectiveness could upset you too.

Connor would prefer to not resort to violence so he tries to be charming and sly as he gets you out of any uncomfortable situations. That doesn't mean he won't punch someone for you, but he is better with his words. And as such, he's very good with giving you compliments and cheering you up in those situations too.

He usually views other's well-being over his own so having his S/O take care of him makes him happy. He does remind you that it's unnecessary to comfort him, but the smile on his face shows that he very much enjoys it.

Nines

He doesn't realize his protectiveness to his S/O. Nines sees you in danger and he ignores his programming giving him a percentage of your safety as he goes to immediately help you without a thought.

He knows he's strong and physically capable to keep you safe, but then he sees you in emotion turmoil. Nines convinces himself that he's calming you so your performance doesn't jeopardize his, but he is fast to find information and read your tells to make sure you are okay.

Nines would never ask that you protect him. He's a machine and can't feel pain. But if you defend him in conversation or even just stay by his side when he needs you (not that he'd say he needs you) then that causes some system errors that he doesn't quite know how to handle.

Y - Yearning (how do they cope when they are missing you? are they alright with being without you for an extended period of time or would they prefer to be with you every day of their life without exception?)

Connor

Definitely is a bit of a puppy when it comes to his S/O being away. He tries to not let it affect his performance, but Hank is quick to call him out on it. He ends up getting his coin out more often or trying to find ways to occupy his mind as a small timer is going on in the back of his programming for when you'll be back.

Very much would prefer you to be around him all the time, but he also knows that would be unreasonable and illogical to ask for, so he just awaits for your return.

Nines

Nothing seems to change for Nines when his S/O is gone for a while. He still performs highly and functions just fine. Nothing really seems wrong except for the fact that he acts more like a machine while you're away.

He does miss you, but he can't let it get in the way of his work. Would request that you not leave so often or not be gone for too long as he wants to make sure you're by his side and not in danger of being hurt.

I'm So Dirty, Babe

Bo Sinclair x GN!Reader

This ain't perfect but by god I'm sick of looking at it!! This is a love story about two normal people and it's fine. Sike, this is fucknasty gross vile bullshit porn that grew legs and ran away. Some mornings, Bo gets up early to work out. You really like seeing him sweat, and he really likes making you suffer. Originally inspired by this post if you squint.

4.2k words. Established "relationship" with a GN!reader so far gone their legal name has been changed to Stockholm. Bo is an ass but also is catching feelings (don't tell him). Horrible toxic relationship dynamics. Penetrative rough sex. Predator/prey dynamics & chasing. Choking. Degradation. Biting. Daddy kink. Super duper blood kink. Excessive mention of sweat and spit and body hair. Threat of orgasm denial. Creampie. Reader is so so brainwashed and so down bad (the call is coming from inside the house).

You set an alarm the night before, right after he told you he’d be up early to work out.

You tried to tell yourself it wasn’t because of him. 6:30 AM was a perfectly reasonable time to wake up. Sure, the sun wasn’t up yet. And no, you didn’t have anything in particular to get done that early. And yes, fine, you knew exactly when he’d be wrapping up his workout because he was shockingly punctual, a creature of habit.

But it wasn’t because of him.

You brushed your teeth and fixed your hair because that’s what people do in the morning. You filled a travel mug with coffee and milk and dumped a heap of protein powder into it plus a tablespoon of sugar because that’s how he liked it. You knew that’s how he liked it because your health and happiness hinged on keeping him content and for no other reason at all.

The assemblage of dirty glasses on the counter rattled with the sheer volume of bass pounding in the garage. You thought you could make out the hoarse vocals of Rob Zombie through the mud room door. Some days, he came out of his workout flush with endorphins and something akin to civil. Others, it was like the testosterone transmuted his blood to vinegar and he would burst through the door frothing at the mouth.

You told yourself you hoped for the former, and this was mostly true. But there was something about the latter – that sneer, the attitude that came with it. He hadn’t been nice to you in the beginning. He wasn’t exactly nice to you now. But you still felt…well. How you felt.

You knocked on the garage door even though you knew he couldn’t hear it, but as long as you tried, sometimes that was enough. Cautiously, you opened the door and ducked inside.

The garage was in no better condition than the rest of the house, the walls hemmed in by shelving and laden with dusty relics of the last fifty years. A car had not been housed in this space since before you were born. In the middle of the floor, a few mismatched squares of castoff carpet had been laid over the permanent oil stains in the concrete. A weight bench took up most of the space, along with a mismatched collection of dumbbells and a few other things.

Despite the chill weather outside, the air in here was warm and humid. The music was deafening in the small acoustic sinkhole, almost painful, but you knew better than to lay a finger on the boom box perched by the door. It was smaller than the one at the station, but it was one of the few things in the garage that was dust-free, and you knew it had been meticulously restored to functionality by hand time and time again. You could relate.

Bo was on his back in the middle of a bench press set and paid you absolutely no mind as you came in. With every lift his lip curled in a snarl. You took his focus as an opportunity to ogle him with abandon.

He was wearing sweatpants and a wifebeater with holes in the fabric. His triceps rolled with every press, stomach taut, feet planted wide. You had been reminded time and again he was stronger than he looked, and that came with effort. Even from where you stood you could see the tank top was soaked with sweat, the hair of his underarms damp and curly.

The final two reps were a struggle from which you could not look away. Arms quivering, he racked the barbell with a grunt and sat up, slumping forward with his elbows on his knees. His hair was plastered to his forehead, lips parted as he caught his breath. He lifted his head and spat on the ground and much to your chagrin, you felt a response in your jeans.

He growled some remark at you that was inaudible over the music. You jumped to attention, quit your staring as he rose to his feet and wheeled to face you. Face flushed and scowling, he stalked towards you and you stood your ground. Even after all this time, after everything, a thrill shot through your stomach when he came at you like that, fear and arousal inextricably linked.

You averted your gaze from his face and had the misfortune of landing your focus directly on the outline of his dick against his left thigh. You released a desperate puff of air and scrambled to recall how it felt to have self-respect.

The music cut with a punch of his finger and left a vacuum of silence in its wake. He was so close you could smell the testosterone coming off him in waves. He was still breathing hard. “Did you hear what I said?” he snapped.

You shook your head. “No.”

“Fuckin’ knock next time.”

“Okay, I will.” You handed him the coffee.

He eyed you distrustfully. “What’s this?”

“It’s your…protein coffee. Whatever you call it.” You could feel the heat radiating from his body, practically taste the salt on his skin when you inhaled through your mouth.

“Ain’t you helpful this mornin’.” He turned halfway away from you and took a swig from the thermos. You watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. It mattered to you – so much – that he approved of the concoction.

Without a word, he handed it back to you. The blood vessels in his arms were swollen and bulging and you had the fleeting thought that you’d like to trace them with your tongue. Then he reached past you, and you flinched in spite of yourself, and he caught it, and he smirked but didn’t say anything. He grabbed a hoodie off a hook just behind you and threw it over his shoulder.

“C’mon.”

The single careless word may as well have been a handwritten invitation embossed with glitter. You grabbed another jacket from the hook and tried not to follow too close behind him as he picked his way between the lawnmower and a credenza from the 60s and hauled the garage door open by hand.

The sound of rusty, reluctant metal startled the birds into silence. Bo loped down the drive, his breath pluming soft and white in the air. It was a mild winter as far as you were concerned, but it was winter nonetheless, and you shoved your free hand deep into the pocket of the jacket. It was his, of course, and it smelled like him. You told yourself you were burying your nose in the collar for warmth, that’s all.

You trailed four feet behind him, still struggling to pinpoint how he felt about you this morning. He stretched his arms up, bent them behind his head, and it pulled the hem of his wifebeater up to expose a strip of skin just above his waistband. Your eyes flicked back and forth between it and the back of his head. You wanted to bite him, bite and suck, hands on his hips, you on your knees –

“Gimme that.” He was reaching back for the thermos. You trotted up, the most obedient little show dog, and handed it to him. He took another sip and you smiled.

He thrust it back into your hands and now you hung by his side, taking a step and a half for every one of his. When he tugged the hoodie off his shoulder you scampered out of the way so he had room to pull it on. He tossed his head, flicking sweat in the other direction, and pushed his hair back. You handed him the thermos; he drank and handed it back; it was slick under your fingers.

You were pathetic.

Together you strolled down Main Street. He paid you no mind, scanning the deadeyed homes and storefronts for any change, any overnight imperfection. Everything always looked the same to you, but you figured after decades spent staring at the same town he probably knew how many shingles were on every last goddamn roof. You could respect that, admire it even. It proved he had the capacity to care for things. Perhaps you held that a little too close to your heart.

He paused in front of one of the houses near the end of the road and exhaled sharply through his nose, hands on his hips, shaking his head. You squinted slightly as you examined the facade, searching for whatever it was he could see.

“Fuckin’ again,” he muttered. “Every year.”

You furrowed your brow. The house looked the same as it ever did to you.

“Gonna take me all mornin’ to fix that.”

Bemused, you nodded obediently and offered him the thermos like a trained monkey. He gulped the rest of it down and thrust it back into your grasp. For the first time all morning, he looked directly at you. You squared your shoulders to bear the weight of his stare and tried to keep your eyes off his lips. You failed; you were always failing. His jaw was dark with morning stubble.

“You’re up early,” he remarked like he had only just noticed you. “Got somethin’ to do with yourself for once?”

You shrugged noncommittally. You kept busy most days, what with the state of abject horror the house was usually in, but that was none of his concern. “Nothing special. Just…wanted to make you coffee.”

He made a sound of derision. “Well ain’t you a saint.”

You rubbed your thumb against the thermos. “How was your workout?”

Bo shot you the sort of look most people reserved for unexpected insects in their living space. “Life-changin’.” He scratched a spot on his chest.

You stared at the patch of hair visible above his neckline for half a second too long, and when you looked back up he was laser focused on you. “That’s good,” you said lamely.

He cocked his eyebrow. You felt spotted, like a small creature in a field.  You felt seen.  Something changed, something subtle in his expression that you couldn’t name but could sense like a shift in the wind. “Coulda used a little cardio.” He moved half a step towards you. “Think you could help me with that, sugar?”

You chewed on your lip, then nodded. He smiled.

“Swell. Put that down.”

You bent slowly, eyes on him, and set the thermos on the concrete with a soft tink.

“Stand back up, baby, c’mon. I can’t do all the thinkin’ for you.”

You stood, clenching and unclenching your cold fingers, waiting. Always waiting. He regarded you for a moment with a curious look on his face, the way you might consider a stranger in the mall you thought you recognized from somewhere.

And then his expression went blank the way a cloud passes over the sun, and your blood burned like ice, and he levelled a glare at your head like a gun and said, “G’on. Run.”

You were off before the mist from his mouth could dissipate. It had been a while since you played this game. It was a good one, with simple rules. And really, in the end, you both won.

You risked a glance over your shoulder and saw he hadn’t moved yet. He was feeling generous apparently; you both knew he was faster than you. Already you were out of breath, the frigid air lacerating your throat and lungs. Maybe you needed some cardio too, you thought absently.

You kicked up your heels and darted around the corner, wanting to make him work for it. You liked to watch him work.

Once upon a time, you would’ve run for the highway. You even used to believe you could make it. You never got close, not once. On this mundane morning, the thought didn’t even cross your mind.

You couldn’t keep up the pace for long and you slowed at an intersection. In your mind you tried to conjure up your faulty map of Ambrose proper – should you turn left? – but the sound of pounding footfalls behind you tore the map to shreds and you bolted.

He caught up to you quickly. You were just ahead of him, you could feel it, hear the emphysemal rasp of his panting. The seconds until he had you were dropping like flies. Too easy. It was too easy.

In a move that surprised you both, you skidded to a stop, lurched to the side, and hopped over the hedgerow of the little bungalow to your left. You were shocked you made it. He was shocked you even tried.

Your small victory was short-lived as your sneakers slipped on the frosty grass and you went down hard, landing directly in the half-thawed patch of mud at the mouth of the rain gutter and the foot of the porch.

Bo coughed out a bonechilling amalgam of a laugh, a snarl, and a curse. You would’ve laughed too, had you not been halfway certain you were about to die. Scrambling to your feet, you just managed to dodge his grasp and wheeled off-balance up the porch steps.

To your relief, the door was unlocked and you darted inside. To your horror, it had no lock. You leaned all your weight against the door, palms stinging, teeth rattling as he flung his weight against it.

“Shit, little piggy, you’re really in for it now.”

A thrill of fear shot right through you. You hoped so. Fuck, you really did.

Wildly you searched for your next move, but you’d never been in this house before and couldn’t begin to guess the layout. An exit did not miraculously present itself to you. He didn’t like it if you just gave up.

But he did like a fight.

Acting on instinct, you stepped to the side. Bo burst through the door, flinging it wide – and you caught it and slammed it right back into his face.

He yelped, and then he roared, yanking the door from your grip and slamming it shut as he grabbed you by the throat and hauled you into the living room. Blood streamed from his nose and he flung you on your back onto the couch.

“You wanna play, darlin’? We can fuckin’ play!”

He was on you with his full weight in seconds, one hand wrapped around your jaw, the other scrabbling at your fly. You gasped as his wrist crushed your windpipe, whimpered and clutched at his forearm, bucked your hips in a half-assed attempt to throw him off. Thinly veiled excitement was pounding in your chest, anticipation pooling in your mouth. 

He saw right through you. He always did. “Look at you,” Bo sneered, his teeth smeared red. “Fuckin’ starry-eyed. You’re some kinda somethin’, ain’tcha.”

“I’m sorry,” you wheezed.

He thrust his hand into your underwear and you whined. “You ain’t sorry,” he said. “Don’t lie to me.”

You ground up into his fingers, frantic with need. “Please...please please ple – “

He smashed his lips into yours and your mouth opened eagerly to receive him, tongue awash with the taste of his blood and spit and coffee. You were making such helpless sounds, writhing as he groped at your sex, dragging your dirty nails across his skin as you pushed down the waistband of his sweats.

He was hard; he was huge. He had the prettiest dick you’d ever seen. You reached for him and he slapped your hand away with force. “Don’t fuckin’ touch me.” He pushed his fingers into your mouth and hooked them around your bottom teeth, pulling your head and forcing your gaze. “Watch.”

He wrapped his free hand around the base of his shaft and rubbed your arousal along the length of his cock, squeezing a lopsided bead of precum from the tip. You moaned and he flashed you a smirk. “Y’want it?”

“Uh-huh,” you gargled around his fingers.

“Y’think you deserve it?”

“Uh-uh.” You managed a miniscule shake of your head.

“That’s right.” He pulled his fingers out of your mouth and slid them into your desperate hole. You keened, back arching off the couch. “Since I’m so sweet I’m gonna give it to ya anyway. Ain’t I sweet?”

You nodded like your life depended on it.

Breathing wetly, he snorked in the back of his throat and spat a wad of blood and phlegm on the mint green carpet, and then fixed his piercing gaze back on you. He pressed the head of his cock against your entrance and your breath hitched in your throat.

In a brief moment of near sanity, you wondered if maybe you were a lost cause even before you met him. Maybe you had always had a grit to your soul. Maybe you’d always been a little bit dirty.

And then he was seizing your hips and forcing himself into you, brutal, all the way all at once, and you had the final fleeting thought before your brain fuzzed blank that it didn’t matter how you used to be, because these days you were his, and you were filthy.

Your body clutched at him, greedy and grateful, as he slid into place. Sheathed deep inside you, he stifled a groan, sucking the blood off his lips. He gripped the back of your thighs and pressed your knees to your chest, bracing himself unsteadily on the couch cushion and jackhammering into you with a vengeance.

Your mouth fell open and he shoved your legs further apart so he could deliver another crushing kiss, pulling hard on your bottom lip. You clawed at the swell of his biceps, toes curled, heart racing. 

“God, you’re such a fuckin’ slut, huh? Beggin’ for it all mornin’ like a bitch in heat.” You nodded feverishly, made some sound in the affirmative. “Fuckin’ shameless. You like bein’ a slut for me?”

“Yes,” you mewled, and you meant it. 

Gasping, you clawed your fingers through his sweaty curls, gripping, twisting. You wanted to hold him. You wanted to make it hurt. You yanked him back to your lips, smothering a grin when his busted nose hit your cheekbone and he grunted, low and irritated in the back of his throat, and dug his fingers into the soft flesh of your side.

This was the only time your relationship approached anything resembling fairness, when he tried his best to claim everything you had and you fought to give it to him faster than he could take it. Because if you gave him enough, sometimes, he gave you a little back.

You lapped at the roof of his mouth like a starving creature. You were so hungry for him all the time with an ache like you’d never known. It was as if you’d inherited the hollow space inside him, like he’d infected you with emptiness. The only remedy available to you was more of him, all of him, as much as he would surrender. Maybe someday it would be sufficient. Maybe if you could consume enough of him, he’d be yours. 

Bo pushed your face away and raked his teeth along the flesh of your neck, biting and sucking. Your legs were quivering, your hole clenching helplessly against the punishing saw of his hips. The smell of his sweat was thick in your nostrils. His tongue slid up the side of your throat to your earlobe and one hand snaked down between your bodies to paw at your aching sex. Ribbons of electricity rippled through your core. A cry like a lonesome animal tore from your throat and you squeezed his waist between your thighs. 

“You gonna cum?” he panted, almost taunting. 

“N-no,” you whispered. Not yet. Too soon. He might not even let you since you made him bleed.

“No?” You could see his pulse thrumming fast in his neck. “You sure about that?”

He knew your body so well, too well. It was getting harder to focus by the second, sparks shooting under your skin. “Can – can I?” You met his eyes. His pupils were blown, his expression almost manic. “Please, Daddy?”

His lip curled in what could’ve been a smile or a sneer, cracking the veneer of dried blood on his cheek. “You been bad, baby.”

“I’m – I know.” The friction of his fingers was borderline painful, scratching some deep and desperate itch that set your nerves on fire. Not yet.

“Someone oughta punish you, huh?” he said through gritted teeth. You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, knew he was close. Knew he wanted it as bad as you did. “Oughta leave you – fuckin’ – miserable.”

You splayed your hands on his chest in supplication. You were dancing on the edge, dangling over it, scrabbling for a few more seconds. “I know, Daddy, but I – I can be good. Please let me be good.”

You felt the panicked squeezing of your walls around his cock and you could tell he felt it too by the way his breath dead-ended in his throat, the half-crazed look on his face. 

“I want to be good for you, please let me cum for you, please, I want – “

His whole frame shuddered and you had him. With immense satisfaction, you watched his eyes roll back, watched him come apart on top of you, and in that moment he belonged to you. You came hard, absolute euphoria, every last inch of you a spitting, crackling livewire.

For the moment, you were sated.

Bo lowered his body flush to yours on trembling arms. He pressed his forehead to your sternum, breathing hard and hot against your skin. You never acknowledged these perfect minutes in the aftermath because you knew that would put them to an immediate end. His post-coital proximity was never for your benefit, and that was okay. You wound and unwound a lock of his hair around your finger, tugging on it sharply now and again, because he would only accept your sidelong affection if it came with a sting. 

You could do that for him. It wouldn’t be the hardest thing. 

He lifted his head at last and scrutinized you. Dried blood flaked off the bottom half of his face and the bridge of his nose was red and swollen. His hair stood up in all directions. “You’re a mess, darlin’,” he said flatly. 

You didn’t doubt it. You could feel his spend drying between your legs. When you licked your lips you tasted copper. 

Bo stood up slowly, grimacing at the change of pressure in his head and sniffing gingerly to clear his nose. He heeled off his sneakers and kicked off his sweatpants, then made his way across the room towards the stairs, shrugging off his hoodie, stripping his wifebeater over his head, and dropping both to the floor. Your eyes tracked slow and appreciative down the length of his body.

“Don’t be long,” he said over his shoulder as he climbed the stairs. “Can’t let you back in the house lookin’ like that.”

You let out a sigh of something akin to contentment and listened to the creak of his footsteps across the ceiling. The groan of water through bedraggled pipes kicked up soon after. 

Carefully you peeled yourself off the couch and stood on wobbly legs, the warm wet trickle of triumph seeping down your thighs. You shed your clothes in a breadcrumb trail across the carpet, casting a glance at the wide-open windows. Even if there had been a soul in town to see you, you had no shame to offer anymore. 

You hauled yourself up the stairs, taking in the faded photographs still mounted on the walls, the ancient and odorless bowl of potpourri on a small table in the hallway. The air was years old, stale and musty. It was a quaint, cozy little house underneath all the dust. You peeked into a bedroom with windows draped in lace curtains. The bedclothes were marred with a rust-colored stain as big as you. You eased the door almost all the way shut and moved on.

The sound of the shower came from the room at the end of the hall. You pushed the door open and crept into a steam-filled bathroom tiled green and white. The slap of water rolling off his body to smack the floor of the tub was loud in the tiny space. There was a framed cross stitch on the wall of a goose and three goslings. You stared at the shower curtain for a moment before turning to the vanity.

With a squeak, you wiped the fog from the mirror and looked at yourself. He was right, you were a mess. Your cheeks were smudged with his blood, lips puffy, hair disheveled, throat a mosaic of bruises and hickies. You examined your hands, palms scraped up and scuffed with dirt. His skin was under your nails. You stank of sweat and sex. 

Someone had told you once that love left a mark.

“You comin’ in?”

You smiled at your reflection. Were you happy?  You might be happy.

“Yeah.”

You slipped into the shower and his begrudging embrace.

Hiya! I love your stuff. Do you ever plan on continuing the Abe Sapien x Kelpie reader story? (Confuseing Feelings)

Hi! Thank you so much for the question! Sorry the reply took so long, I'm graduating this year so I don't have nearly as much time for writing as I'd like to. I'd love to continue all stories with my OCs, the thing is, I'm not good at making OCs XD. Confusing feelings was my very first work on this blog and at that time, Lynn was just an idea that came to my head. No real backstory or personality tbh. I took some time a few days ago to change her design a little bit and I want to focus on my OCs a little more. So, I will definitely continue with the story, but don't expect it to be anytime soon I guess😅 Here is the design:

Could you please make a one shot having to do with angst turned fluff for Nishio Nishki? I'm really in love with his character and I'm watching Tokyo Ghoul at the moment

Make it better

Pairing: Nishio Nishki x reader

Summary: When you have nothing to focus on but work for a long while, it gets overwhelming. But your lover has a busy schedule as well, so you try to power through it. But when he finally notices the state your chores leave you in, you can rest assured he won't just leave it be.

Warnings: stress, crying, slight anxiety, being overwhelmed with life

A/N: I am so so so sorry for taking so long. I am graduating this year from high school and completing the previous piece was a hussle, leaving me with a writer's block a few times. But here it is! (I might be projecting here a lot little bit, but since the type of issue wasn't specified, I hope it's alright) Also, this is my first time writing for this fandom, feel free to send in requests! (Just check in my bio if they are open, thanks :) )

Your feet were seriously killing you. Luckilly you were already at your door to your apartment. Finally you could let go of the stressful day you had. Kicking off your shoes, you tried not to think too much of the fact, that all your days lately have been the same and that they would likely continue to be this way for...a long time.

Throwing your bag by the door, like you tried throwing away all your worries, you bee lined to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of herbal tea, one that should ease stress, or that's what the pharmacist had claimed. So far, you didn't feel the results. But you know what they say...fake it till you make it.

And so you took your tea and with a smile you were half convinced you weren't entirely faking you grabbed a book from the coffee table in the living room. Burrowing yourself into the soft cushions of the sofa, with a nice book and a cup of tea was a pleasant escape from reality after all.

Page after page, minute after minute the time passed without you even noticing. Your tea was almost finished when you realised you've read roughly ten pages. You realized you couldn't quite concentrate on the plot, although the book was anything but boring. Why was it that your mind was preoccupied by boring thoughts then? The meeting you had to attend, the paperwork you had to hand in, errands after errands after errands. So bothersome...

And yet these responsibilities refused to stop haunting you even in the privacy of your own home. You sighed and grabbed your tea, marking your page, even though you knew you'd have to go back and reread everything again, and poured the rest of the now cold beverage in the kitchen sink.

You stood in the doorway to the living room for a while, pondering what to do next, before you retrieved your bag from the hall and settled in the living room with your laptop again. With a small frown etched onto your face, one you weren't even aware of, you pulled out some papers from your bag, unlocked your laptop and begrudgingly got to work.

When Nishiki got home, it was already dark out. He didn't like being away from you for so long, but some things absolutely required his attention and he couldn't leave them be. He didn't know what time it was, but judging by the lack of people and cars on the streets he assumed you would be already asleep.

Stepping as quietly as you could inside his home, a home that he shared with you, he was a bit surprised to still see the lights on inside the living room. Alarms went off in his head, ringing like bells. Although the possibility of an intruder being in his home was slim, given his...nature and dare some say reputation, it was still a possibility.

Walking as stealthily as a ghoul could, Nishiki crept through the room, peering from behind the corner. He immediately calmed down upon seeing you sitting at the table in the living room, your laptop opened in front of you, papers scattered around. It appeared your eyes were trying to follow the text on screen, but other than that, you weren't doing much else.

Now calm, Nishiki stepped into the room and glanced at the clock on the wall, reading eleven pm. It seemed you were so engrossed in your work that you didn't notice him, or maybe you were just exhausted, which, given by the haggard look on your face, was more probable.

"Baby?" he called out. Your eyes shot over to him, before a smile broke out on your face, your eyes closing in content. You sighed and greeted your boyfriend "Hi Nishiki. How was your day?" you smiled at him. Normally, Nishiki's head would be overcome by thoughts of how cute you were, but now he only nodded his head before carefully answering "Long. Tiring."

He wasn't lying, he would never lie to you, but he was a little concerned about why you were up at this hour. He knew very well how much work you had on your hands lately and how early you had to get up every morning. If you kept this up, the lack of sleep might lead to worse things and he wouldn't allow that. Right now, he was just trying to find a way to approach the subject as carefully as possible.

Stepping closer to you, he spoke again "And I can see I wasn't the only one." he put his hand on your shoulber, rubbing gently. "We should go to bed babe. I'm pretty tired, you must be exhausted." he smiled at you. His smile was reciprocated in an instant, but still you turned back momentarilly to your laptop and then to face him again, before you hung your head low. "You go ahead. I'll just finish this up and go right to bed."

Nishiki bent down and stared at your screen. "Do you need to have this done by tomorrow?" he asked. "Well, no. I'm just trying to get ahead so I don't have as much work tomorrow." Pressing a kiss to the side of your head, Nishiki replied "Then let it go. It's late. You need sleep."

He was right. You were exhausted. To work seemed endless and it was paralyzing. You worried that if you stopped now, you would never talk yourself into continuing. And if you didn't get ahead of your tasks, they would only pile on and it would take twice as long to get them all done.

While you were pondering what to do, Nishiki sensed your breaths quickening and saw the crease between your brows. Wrapping his arms arund you, he started rubbing your shoulders up and down and put his chin on top of your head. "It's alright sweetheart. You're working yourself to the bone, nobody will be mad if you take a little break." he started shushing you.

You didn't even register when tears started slipping from your eyes, one by one. But you couldn't stop them. "I- I just..." you tried to say between hiccups. ones that you were trying really hard to force back "I've been doing this for so long and I don't know if Ican continue..." You were tired. So, so tired. And yet the wheel of days seemed to never slow down. Everything was happening so fast and your only wish was to have a just a little more time to get yourself together, so you could function. But it seemed that wasn't possible and you were starting to lose your strength.

Nishiki hold you even tighter and stayed with you as you let it all out. It was obvious you needed it. His mind was already filled with different ideas on how to solve this problem. He also tried to shove the guilt he felt for not being with you enough and letting you go through this alone to the back of his mind, because rationally he knew it wasn't his fault. And yet seeing you like this broke something in that poor, already broken man.

You completed him. You were there for him all the time, through the good and bad times, you stood beside him when everybody thought he was a monster. You showed him a new meaning. You showed him that his life doesn't have to be just about surviving. That it is worth living.

When your cries calmed into quiet sniffles, he turned you around and let his forehead rest on yours "Don't worry baby. Everything will be alright. It's late. We'll make everything right tomorrow, how does that sound?" Your eyes met and you nodded slowly, although still not quite believing him. He smiled brightly and reassuringly at you "That's my darling." He then stood up and left the room.

You assumed he went to the bathroom, maybe to use the toilet and so you sighed again, before turning back to your now black laptop screen. You started collecting your papers and notebooks, not even allowing yourself to look at the text printed on them. When you gathered everything, you made a neat pile on the table and properly shut off your laptop. That's when you heard the water rushing. Was Nishiki drawing a bath? Before you could stand up to go investigate, your boyfriend returned to the living room, only a towel around his waist. Not caring about the blush on your face, he made his way to you, leaned down and whispered "You can get into the tub. I put some nice salts and oils in there, even those petals you love so much. I'm just going to grab some candles and chocolate and I'll be right with you." and with a kiss to your cheek he was gone.

A small smile bloomed on your face. And later, as you sunk into the hot water, your beautiful lover behind you and holding a piece of chocolate to your lips, you thought that yes, everything will be alright, as long as you have him by your side.

I saw the match ups you are doing so I was wondering if you can a matchup for me as well

Soooo

I'm a girl and I'm bi. I have somewhat long straight black hair, tan skin and dark brown fox eyes. As for my mbti, I'm an intp with 6w5 ennegramme( isthathowyouspellit?). And I have a really broken humor. And I'm very very very lazy.... I can sleep 2 whole days without eating or anything. And I loveeeeeee listening to music!! ( Especially The Weeknd and Darci ).

When first meeting I'm like the most responsible, reliable, nice, modest, respecting person ( to elders it stay the same unless they cross their limits) but after getting to know me I can be very chaotic ( but fear not due to getting called I'm loud all the time I have mastered the way of shutting tf up ) Oh and I love reading but only if I feel like it. I'm mostly into sci-fi or action genres. And for some reason I hate watching/reading (like movies and mangas and novels not fanfics ofc ^0^) anything that's under romance. And I loveeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee gaming. I play genshin impact, asphalt 9, twisted wonderland and obey me ). I almost forgot I have severe anxiety, Obsessive-compulsive personality disorder, Schizoid personality disorder and I'm hella paranoid. Most of the time I'm in my head and I rarely step out of the house. OH AND I absolutely adore animals. In fact I have 8 dogs, 3 cats and a Betta fish!

Oh even though I'm lazy if I really want something done, I always find a way to finish it.

So yeah that's it. I hope you don't mind ^0^

Hi, my matchups aren't open, as stated in my bio and pinned post. Hope you have more luck elsewhere! And thank you for liking my stuff <3

HAPPY VALENTINES DAY FROM MY WAX HEART TO YOURS 🧡