i absolutely despise my father so much.
we arent going further about that.
anyways i read this on
tumblr
fanfic written by batterygarden on tumblr :>
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It starts off with you hating it.. he earns a scoff and a dry "I'm not your mother, seishiro nagi!"
It's a joke then. It turns light-hearted and mischievous, a tool for teasing since you really do fuss over Nagi in a way that feels...y'know...motherly. He won't mention it if you aren't in the right mood. The doting. The acts of service. The ooey-gooey love you weave into every one of your touches...
Truly, at first, it's only teasing. You've got a tolerance built for that already—your skin's grown thick with Sei's dubious filter and deadpan joke delivery. So when he senses you can handle it, the nickname gets repeated.
A lazy "thanks mommy" falling from his lips when you hand him the phone charger he'd done an awful job searching for, swiping hair out of his face absentmindedly before you register his words. You pull your hand away fast when you do, groaning but giggling all the same. The following occurrence only earns a chuckle and a light shake of your head. The next time only a funny look.
You must dwell on the new title more than you let on though, because inbetween Nagi's chest and his comforter one night, you bring it up.
Squeezing yourself as flush to his bare skin as possible, finger tracing his collarbone while your question comes in whisper:
"So...why do you keep calling me mommy?"
Seishiro's half-asleep, so his answer comes out soft and heavy. "S'just how you act. And it's pretty hot."
You scoff, rolling onto your back in a fit of defiance. You don't think you act motherly. Nagi's quick to roll on top of you when you move, sticking to your chest like a magnet, clinging to your front and using your tits as a pillow—this position suits him just fine.
Once he's nuzzled in for maximum comfort he yawns. "Are you mad at me?" He lifts an eyelid to peek at your face. "Didn't think it bothered you that much."
With a sigh your arms are around him, nails gently grazing his naked back the way you know he likes.
"No, I'm not mad. Just feels weird. No one's ever called me that before and when you do it I can never tell if you're making fun of me."
He inhales a deep breath against your skin before he responds, lips dragging against your breast.
"Not making fun. I really do think 't's hot."
There's a yawn and then a sleepy, open mouthed kiss on the soft skin above your nipple.
"really?"
"y'have no idea"
There's a few more drowsy kisses to your chest then, before your nipple's latched into Nagi's greedy mouth, the other circled gently with his thumb. You whine, running fingers through his hair and tugging at his roots.
There's a soft pop when he pulls away.
"do you?"
He squeezes your tits lazily in each palm while he asks, playing like they're stress balls—such a regular occurrence it's humorless by this point.
"Do I what?"
"Think it's hot? Mommy?"
Your answer is a jagged sigh when he starts kissing his way around your other breast, glancing up to meet your gaze.
