#I know this is late but I wanted to give you a full answer

[digitaldaydreamm]

unspoken claim

rafe x childhood friend!reader

warnings: none :)

requested by: @thoughtdaughter0 <3

a/n: absolutely loveee rafe making himself at home at reader's place, it's just so "boyfriend" of him... wink wink ;)

masterlist

��｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°

The scent of something faintly burnt hits you the second you step through the door, and you don’t even flinch. You already know what—or rather, who—you’re about to find.

Sure enough, Rafe is in your kitchen.

He’s standing at the stove, sleeves pushed up, a spatula in one hand and an unimpressed look on his face as he stares down at the pan in front of him. There’s a mess of ingredients scattered across the counter—half a chopped onion, an open bag of shredded cheese, and a carton of eggs suspiciously close to tipping over.

You drop your bag onto the couch, crossing your arms as you watch him. “Should I be worried?”

Rafe glances over his shoulder, like he’s just now noticing you walked in. “You’re late.”

You blink. “I didn’t know I was on a schedule.”

He huffs, turning back to whatever he’s attempting to cook. “I told you I was making dinner.”

You step closer, peering over his shoulder. “Is that what we’re calling this?”

Rafe shoots you a look, but before he can defend himself, a sudden sizzle from the pan makes him flinch. He mutters a curse, reaching for a spatula, but whatever he’s making already looks beyond saving.

You sigh, moving to grab the pan handle. “Move.”

Rafe doesn’t budge. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Move.” You nudge him with your hip.

Rafe smirks but steps aside, arms crossing as he watches you take over. “Just so we’re clear, I had it under control.”

You give him a flat look before grabbing the seasoning he clearly forgot to use. “Right. Totally.”

He doesn’t argue, just leans against the counter and watches as you fix the mess he made. He’s close enough that you can feel the warmth of him behind you, close enough that when he reaches over you to grab a piece of cheese, his arm brushes against yours.

You swat his hand away without looking. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” He grins, doing it again.

You elbow him lightly. “Rafe.”

“Kid.”

You sigh dramatically, focusing back on the food. “You know, just because I gave you a key when we were kids doesn’t mean you can just show up and destroy my kitchen.”

“You gave me that key because you wanted me here.”

You pause for half a second before shaking your head. “I was being nice.”

“You were obsessed with me.”

You roll your eyes, plating the food and handing it to him. “Here. Try it. Learn something.”

Rafe takes a bite without hesitation, and after a moment, he nods approvingly. “Yeah. This is way better than mine.”

“Shocking.”

Rafe nudges you with his elbow, and you nudge him back without thinking.

And as the night settles into quiet conversation and the occasional bickering over who’s doing the dishes, you realize—having Rafe here doesn’t feel like an intrusion.

The kitchen is still a mess, but at least the food is done. You lean against the counter, finishing the last bite of your taco while Rafe lazily chews his, looking far too pleased with himself for someone who nearly burned the place down.

“You’re on dish duty, by the way,” you announce, wiping your hands on a napkin.

Rafe raises a brow. “What?”

“You made the mess, so you clean it.”

He scoffs, shaking his head as he leans back against the counter. “I cooked.”

“You tried to cook,” you correct. “I did all the work.”

Rafe hums like he’s actually considering it, but then, instead of answering, he grabs another taco and takes a slow, obnoxious bite, holding eye contact the entire time.

You narrow your eyes. “That’s not going to work on me.”

“What’s not?” he asks, mouth full.

“You thinking you can just sit there and do nothing while I clean up after you.”

Rafe smirks. “But you love cleaning up after me.”

You grab a dish towel and throw it at his face.

He catches it with ease, laughing as he tosses it onto the counter. “Alright, alright. Relax, kid.” He straightens up, stretching slightly before cracking his knuckles. “I’ll help. But only ‘cause I’m such a good friend.”

“Right,” you deadpan, rolling your eyes.

Still, he doesn’t let you do it alone. He takes his sweet time, rinsing the plates at an annoyingly slow pace while you dry them beside him. Occasionally, he flicks water at you just to be a menace, and you retaliate by bumping your hip into him, making him splash himself instead.

By the time the kitchen is clean, you’re both slightly damp from your mini water war, and the smell of burnt food is still lingering faintly in the air.

You yawn, stretching your arms over your head. “Okay. Now you can leave.”

Rafe makes a dramatic, offended face. “That’s how you treat your guests?”

“You’re not a guest. You live here at this point.”

He grins, like he knows it’s true. Instead of leaving, he walks past you toward the living room, flopping onto the couch like he owns the place. “Might as well stay, then.”

You sigh, following him. “Rafe.”

He kicks his feet up onto the coffee table, completely ignoring you.

You stand over him with your hands on your hips. “You’re seriously not leaving?”

“Nah,” he says, shifting to make himself more comfortable. “Besides, I’m tired.”

You shake your head, exasperated, but it’s not like this is anything new. Rafe has been making himself at home in your space since you were kids, since before you even knew what personal space was.

With another sigh, you move to the other end of the couch, pulling a throw blanket over you.

Rafe watches, unimpressed. “You’re really gonna sit all the way over there?”

“Yes.”

He just stares.

You hold your ground for about ten seconds before giving in with an annoyed groan.

Rafe smirks as you crawl over, settling into his side. His arm lifts automatically, making space for you before it drapes lazily over your shoulders, tugging you closer until you’re properly pressed against him.

You huff. “Happy now?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, shifting so you’re even more tucked into his side.

The room is quiet for a while, the soft hum of the air conditioner filling the silence. Rafe’s fingers trace absent patterns along your arm, his touch lazy, familiar.

You yawn again, your eyes growing heavy. “You better not stay the whole night.”

Rafe doesn’t answer.

You peek up at him. His expression is unreadable, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes as he looks down at you.

Then, instead of responding, he just pulls the blanket higher, making sure you’re completely wrapped up before relaxing again.

You know what that means. He’s not leaving.

You should tell him to go home. You should make him leave.

But as your eyelids flutter shut and the warmth of him keeps you comfortable, you decide—maybe just this once, you won’t fight it.

[seiya-starsniper]

Sweet Hearts

Art by @designtheendless, who is currently taking Valentine's Day commissions for your OTP!

Read below, or over on AO3, and keep an eye out for an additional treat right at the end 💖🥰💖🥰💖

-----

“What—,” Silco asks, staring in horror at his daughter’s latest…acquisition, “in Janna’s name is that?”

“They’re called Sweet Hearts!” Powder answers with far too much excitement. “Aren’t they adorable?” she asks, holding the offending object even closer to Silco’s face. She either doesn’t notice or is choosing to ignore Silco’s disgust at such a—such a blatant waste of money.

The Sweet Heart, as she calls it, appears to be some sort of brightly colored candy…that just so happens to have her boyfriend’s face printed on it. In full color. They’re small, about the size of a copper coin if Silco had to guess. On closer inspection of the clear plastic bag in Powder’s other hand, there appears to be even more of the atrocities inside, including—

“Is that Vander’s face in that bag?” Silco practically screeches. Powder just laughs, tossing the Ekko heart back into the bag to join its unholy brethren, before she lifts it so that the Sweet Hearts are eye level.

“Yeah, Ekko and I sprung for the whole family!” Powder replies, and Silco desperately wants to know, but also not know how much she’s spent on…fancy candy. Why hadn’t Ekko stopped her? Silco was going to have a stern talk with the boy. “There’s a couple of Hearts with your face on them too, don’t worry!” she adds, shaking the bag for effect.

Silco in fact, had not been worrying about his lack of representation in the mixed bag of sugary confections. He’d rather the entire bag not exist at all, but it was already too late to hope for that.

“I—see,” Silco says, for a lack of a better response. “And where, exactly, did you acquire these?” He knows, even without her having to tell him. The bag itself was far too flashy for any of the businesses in Zaun, and only Piltover would find a way to create a single-use profiteering racket that preyed on the sentimentality of something as simple as a loved one’s portrait.

“At the HexChoc factory,” Power replies with a knowing look on her face, and ah damnit, she had him there. Powder knew that Silco only supported spending money on one business in Piltover, due to the fact that it was co-owned by a Zaunite whom Silco deeply respected. The fact that they made extravagant sweets was irrelevant.

“They were demonstrating how to print the images on the hearts on this new machine,” Powder continues, “and also giving out free samples.”

The mischievous grin on his daughter’s face tells Silco that Powder, by virtue of being Powder, had somehow swindled her way into an entire bag full of free heart-printed candies. Well, at least she hadn’t technically spent any money, but at the same time Silco finds himself mildly worried for Viktor’s profit margins. Jayce Talis’s business acumen certainly left plenty to be desired.

“What’s this?” Vander’s voice booms from behind Silco. Silco does not yell in surprise at his husband’s sudden appearance at his side, but it’s a near thing. 

“Sweet Hearts!” Powder answers cheerfully, before she opens the bag and starts digging around inside. Silco’s worried for a moment she’s going to pull one out with Benzo’s face on it, then realizes just a moment too late what she’s actually looking for.

“Look, it’s Silco!” Powder says before Silco can stop her holding out the bright pink heart to Vander, who takes it with a look of confusion. This was getting incredibly out of hand.

“Powder you know Vander doesn’t like sweets,” Silco sighs, before reaching out to take the heart out of his husband’s hand. But Vander snatches his hand back, surprising Silco.

Oh. Oh no.

“Where’d you say you got these, Pow?” Vander asks, voice wobbling as he cradles the candy heart like it’s made of gold.

Oh no, no, no, no, no—

“Jayce and Viktor!” Powder answers. “They said they’d be willing to make us more whenever we wanted too!”

Fuck.

Silco looks at his husband, wide-eyed and emotional over a piece of candy, and then back at his daughter, who has just bitten into a candy heart of Mylo’s face, and lets out a deep sigh. He was never seeing the last of these blasted candy hearts. And with Sweethearts Day around the corner, he was expecting to see a lot of them in the coming days.

“Hand me a Vander heart, Powder.”

Happy early Valentine's Day to the Zaundads/Vanco fandom! Y'all have been SO WONDERFUL to me as I dove headfirst into this ship, and ahead of Zaundads Week, I wanted to give a little token of my appreciation to every person that I've been able to share some joy with 🥰🥰. I love all of you dearly and am so happy to be trapped in this brainrot with you!

[lilithschosen]

Smut prompts!

❝ Your heart is beating so fast. ❞ ❝ Be gentle with me. Please. ❞

ok i don't know why my brain decided this needed to be a vampire butch!Agatha thing but it did. lowkey channeled Jennifer's Body too so if you know the movie, you'll see where i got it from lmao

When her doorbell rang late at night, waking her from the light sleep she was already in, she shuffled off to answer it. Clad in a band tee and cotton shorts, she pulls the door open to see Agatha, hands in the pockets of her usual denim jacket.

"Agatha?" Rio asks, rubbing at her eyes as if she didn't believe it. "What are you doing here? Are you okay?"

Agatha just nods, lifting her hands out of her pockets as she flexes her fingers. "Yeah, I just wanted to come see you."

Rio's heart skips a beat. They work together, see each other every day. Why would Agatha desire to see her in the middle of the night? The corners of Agatha's mouth pull up in a slight smile before they drop entirely.

"Can I come in?" Agatha asks, "You don't have to say yes, I can go. I realise this was a stupid time to visit."

Rio steps to the side, taking the door with her. "No, please. Come in."

Agatha's eyes flash with something that Rio can't catch and she chalks it up to still being partially asleep. Agatha glides through the threshold, visibly relaxing as she does. Rio shuts the door behind them and crosses her arms over her chest, her hands hooking on her shoulders.

"So what's up?"

Agatha turns to face her and gives a smile. "I was thinking about you. I do that a lot."

Rio's eyes widen a touch in surprise. "I- oh?"

Agatha nods, stepping into Rio's space. "I've never had the courage to say anything because I never want to put you in a shitty position."

Rio's mind goes blank, internal voice beginning to chant about what positions Agatha could put her in before she snaps out of it.

"I don't think you'd ever do that, Agatha."

Rio shifts, stepping back as she gets overwhelmed at everything happening so fast. "Do you want something to drink?"

Agatha steels herself, chin lifting up. "Sure."

Rio quickly heads off, moving around the stairs and to the kitchen, knowing Agatha would follow her anyway. She takes two cups out of the cabinet and fills them up with water from the sink. As she turns, Agatha is standing right behind her.

Rio jolts in surprise, holding the glasses tight in her hands as she curses. Agatha didn't make a sound, normally the wooden floors creak when anyone gets near them but they didn't with Agatha.

"Sorry," Agatha says, taking Rio's wrist to steady her, "I didn't mean to sneak up on you."

Agatha rubs the pad of her thumb against the pulse point in Rio's wrist, calming her before taking the glass from her.

They sip at the water in a brief silence, Rio's eyes diverting to the floor. Agatha sets the somehow still full cup by the sink as she clears her throat.

"I like you, Rio."

Rio aspirates the water, choking momentarily. She slams the glass on the counter as she puts a hand to her chest as the coughs. Fear flashes across Agatha's face as she reaches for Rio again but recoils and takes her hand back, mentally scolding herself.

"I'm fine," Rio wheezes, coughing once more to be sure she dislodged the water in her windpipe. "You like me?"

"Yeah, though it was obvious. But I guess I'm not as obvious as I seem."

Somehow in the dull, yellow hue from the light above the sink, Rio sees Agatha differently. The once calm and collected woman, in her thick black boots and flannel that she always sees when she walks in early in the morning was now nervous and jittery. She doesn't meet her eyes, hesitating to even be in her space.

"I don't want you to take me as this hard, butch woman," Agatha begins, "I haven't been myself around anyone, but you make me feel safe. That I can be my open, honest self around you."

Rio blushes, looking up at Agatha finally as their eyes connect. Agatha looks away impulsively, face turning to the side but then slowly creeping back. Rio gives a gentle smile, a warm and accepting one.

"I like you too, Agatha."

Agatha's face softens as relief rushes over her. "You don't have to just say it, but I think you're telling the truth."

There was this pull, an allure from the woman. Rio was drawn in the moment they met in passing that first day she joined the Westview Police Department. Somehow Agatha was leaving early in the morning, just before sunrise. She didn't bother to even look at Rio, stalking out of the station and toward her shitty sedan.

She only saw Agatha when she was coming in or leaving, never was the woman there during the day. She assumed it was due to the all nighters she was pulling, which was a common thing since Agatha was the lead detective for the precinct.

Rio came in early every day because of it. A way for her to be around Agatha, to bask in her presence.

Agatha steps forward into Rio's space again. She cups Rio's cheek in her hand, still smiling. Rio's pulse quickens and Agatha's throat bobs up in down from swallowing.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Please?"

Agatha's lips take hers in the most gentle, ghost of a kiss. Something to test the waters. Rio feels her fingertips tingle from it, her hands lifting behind her to grasp onto the counter to steady herself.

Agatha moves in closer, her breath spreading across Rio's face as her gaze flicks between her eyes and lips. Rio's back presses into the counter as she watches Agatha's mouth twitch.

Suddenly it connects, the breaker being flipped in her brain as electricity runs through her brain. The thoughts run rampant, ones she pushed as absentminded and untrue. Fantasies. Something that made her feel neurotic, that there wouldn't ever be a reason her thoughts were real. But now, with Agatha having her cornered in the kitchen at 2am, she sees it.

Agatha's lips pull back as she smiles and flashes her long canine teeth.

"Your heart is beating so fast, Rio."

Agatha's head lowers as she inhales the scent of Rio's fear and something sweeter. Rio swallows hard, fingers digging into the granite counter behind her.

"I've been so hungry," she groans, lips hovering above Rio's throat, "I have needed you since I first saw you, to know you, to have you."

Agatha flexes her neck, extending it as she cracks it and regains her composure. Rio's heart is pounding in her ears, but she can't look away. She wants her in every sense of the word.

"I meant it," Agatha slowly explains, "I don't want to put you in a shitty situation. I'm who I am- what I am. But I still want you for you."

Exhaling a shaky breath, Rio extends her hand to grab Agatha's jacket. "Okay, Agatha."

Agatha's eyes darken, her pupils dilating to swallow the blue irises completely. She juts out her jaw, mouth opening and fangs extending.

"Please," Rio whimpers as she wraps her arms around Agatha's waist and leans in to kiss her again. "Be gentle with me."

Agatha stops herself before they kiss, voice small as she stares into Rio's eyes.

"Always."

Their mouths connect, slow and gentle at first but the passion growing as Agatha's blunted fingernails dig into the exposed skin of Rio's hips. She licks into Rio's mouth and moans feeling how warm it was against her tongue.

Her hand trails up underneath Rio's shirt, her skin reacting and raising as she moves up to her breasts. She palms one, squeezing the flesh with her fingers. Rio's voice catches, the little whimper an untrained ear wouldn't catch but Agatha's do.

She kisses down, lips sloppily descending to her chin then down to her throat. She licks and sucks the skin around Rio's pulse point as she slides her knee between Rio's legs, pressing up into her clothed center.

"Fuck, Agatha."

Agatha grins into Rio's throat, her sharp teeth tracing a line into the skin. Her hand slides down from Rio's chest, fingertips dipping into her navel as she continues down to the waistband of her shorts. She acts as if she'll push beneath them, but doesn't.

"Please," Rio whispers, her own hand wrapping around Agatha's wrist as she guides it into her shorts to cup her. "I need you."

Rio was soaked, and with no underwear on to hold her arousal back, she was dripping down her thighs. Agatha breathes heavily, eyes closing as she feels Rio's desire for her.

Her palm presses to her clit as her fingers spread through her folds. She coats her fingers in Rio's slick before taking her hand out of the shorts. She holds the glistening fingers up to Rio's mouth, wiping the pads of her fingers across Rio's bottom lip before taking them to her own mouth and sucks them clean.

Rio's tongue creeps out, swiping herself from her lip and watches Agatha with rapt focus.

"You're just as sweet as I imagined."

Agatha shoves her hand back into Rio's shorts, pinning her to the counter as she pushes two fingers into her wet heat. They both gasp simultaneously at the feeling, Rio's hands finding purchase in Agatha's hair at the base of her skull in reaction.

"All of this for me?" Agatha asks, pumping the fingers into Rio's cunt, "I could smell you the moment you opened the door. I thought it'd be for someone else."

Rio shakes her head, eyes pinching shut as Agatha fucks her. "Only you. Only ever you."

Agatha's head drops back to her throat, open mouth kisses to the vein throbbing underneath the skin. Rio's walls clench around her fingers as she moans out Agatha's name.

"Are you gonna cum for me?" Agatha's voice was like velvet, pouring gasoline on the fire churning in her lower belly as the orgasm builds, "I bet you look so pretty when you cum, wanna see it for myself."

Rio nods rapidly, whining through her clenched jaw as it continues to build and build and build until the ripcord inside her snaps. She curls into Agatha as she lets go, hips grinding into Agatha's palm. Rio cries out her name like a hymn and it's the closest thing to heaven she'll ever achieve.

Agatha sinks her teeth into Rio's throat, drinking from her at the height of her orgasm. The pleasure sings in her blood and Agatha can barely control herself as she falls into her own orgasm. She doesn't take long to recover, soothing the open wound with her tongue, cleaning the remaining drops of blood in the process.

Rio's head is cloudy from everything Agatha did to her, but she feels on top of the world. Agatha's forehead touches her own as her eyes open. She smiles, thumb wiping the bit of blood off Agatha's chin.

"You are," she stammers, brain still mismatched to her mouth as she tries to get the words out. "You are something else."

Agatha matches her smile, humming. "I know. Kinda happens when you're a vampire."

The honesty and acknowledgement of her affliction makes Rio's knees weak. That she wasn't dreaming it all.

"Are you okay?" Agatha questions sincerely, "I didn't take too much?"

Rio shakes her head, kissing the tip of Agatha's nose. "No, you were fantastic."

Agatha blushes, cheeks feeling warm as she sits with the praise.

"So does this mean I'm yours now?" Rio asks, playful confidence coming back to her now. "I read about claiming in those shitty young adult novels, but I can only assume what we just did means I'm entirely yours."

Agatha gives a breathy chuckle. "Yes, Rio. You are mine now."

[asterafroditis]

𐔌 . ⋮ golden cage .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆Kalim Al-Asim x gn! reader

𓏵 531 words

ᝰ.ᐟ 3rd Person POV, no pronouns used, established relationship with reader, angst, hurt/no comfort

oof, finally proofread this through my busy schedule hehe (´⌒｀;) feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

Lately, he had been pulling away.

Not obviously— Kalim wasn’t good at being distant, not when he wanted to be near you. But he had started second-guessing things.

The grand gestures. The spontaneous gifts. The carefree way he invited you into his world without a second thought.

Because what if you were suffocating too?

Jamil’s words haunted him.

"We were never friends. You were my master."

It was the first time someone had looked at him��� really looked at him— and told him the truth.

Jamil, who had been with him since they were kids, who had always been there, always by his side… had never been by his side at all.

Had it always been like that?

Kalim had spent his whole life giving. Sharing. He thought it was enough. He thought it was right.

But Jamil had never wanted any of it. And Kalim had been too blind to see it.

Now, when he looked at you, he wondered— had he done the same to you?

You noticed, of course.

“Kalim?” You frowned as he hesitated before grabbing your hand. He had never hesitated before. “Are you okay?”

His usual response would have been a bright "Of course!" or a quick deflection, maybe even an offer to take you somewhere fun.

But this time, he only smiled— and it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Yeah, I just… I was thinking. About us.”

You stiffened, just barely. He caught it.

“Are you—” You swallowed. “Are you breaking up with me?”

His heart lurched. “No! No, never!” He shook his head too fast, almost panicked. “I just… I don’t know if I’m doing things right.”

“Right?” Your brows furrowed. “Kalim, what are you talking about?”

He took a breath.

“I don’t want to be—” He stopped, words catching in his throat. Your master. Your burden. Your golden cage.

Jamil’s voice echoed in his head. You’re just doing whatever you want.

Was he? Was he forcing you into his world, trapping you with his kindness, never once thinking if you wanted it at all?

“I don’t want to be someone you feel stuck with.”

Your expression softened, but it didn’t make him feel any better.

“Kalim… you’re not.”

That was what he wanted to hear. What he should believe.

But Jamil had said the same things, hadn’t he? Smiled, nodded, told him it was fine— all while drowning in a role he never wanted.

Kalim had been too naive to see it before. But now, he couldn’t stop seeing it.

“You can tell me the truth,” he said, voice quieter than usual. “If you ever feel like it’s too much.”

You stared at him. And for the first time, he was afraid of the answer.

That night, Kalim sat in his room, staring at the golden trinkets he had gathered over the years. Gifts, treasures, pieces of a world so full, yet so empty.

He had never questioned his place before. Never questioned the way he loved, the way he cared, the way he gave.

But if he had been wrong about Jamil— what if he was wrong about you, too?

What if all this time, he had only been keeping you chained?

[meowmoew3]

IN MY ROOM - Satoru Gojo

- PLAY! ˚⋆⭑:: SATORU GOJO ONESHOT

summary - Based on Julia Wolfs, In my room <3 word count - 1.3k content warning - angst, gojo sucks, mentions of smoking, slightly implied cheating if you squint masterlist // not proofread

February 7th, Friday 8 pm

You miss him. You couldn't deny it, you couldn't deny the way your eyes were tearing up at the sight of his old sweatshirt sitting in the corner of your room. You couldn't deny it when you came home crying, you couldn't deny the way you stumbled on your words while you informed your roommate on what the hell your boyfriend had done.

Satoru Gojo, the love of your life, well you thought he was. Until he dumped you right in front of his friends at the same restaurant he had asked you to be his girlfriend at two years ago.

"We could never work out, you know this. We both want different things baby." He had said, both of you were sitting down at a similar table to the one you had grown fond of sitting at during each of your anniversaries. You remember the tug at his lips when he had mentioned it being a nice tradition, but even while breaking up with you he was still using that same damn nickname you were growing tired of.

Was it so wrong to want to settle down with the man who once told you that he too, wanted kids and to have matching rings that go further than the promise rings he had gotten you both for your one year anniversary?

That all led up to now, packing up his things in a large box for the exchange you two will be having two days from now. You were dreading the day February 9th came.

February 9th, 10 am

Despite the lack of sleep and motivation you had, you still got up. Your roomate, Shoko, being there every step you took, you could tell she's worried about you.

"You know, you don't have to go. We could stay in, order food, have Suguru pick him his shit." His, Shoko being nice enough to avoid saying his name. The name Satoru had become a sacred word, a word you felt as if you didn't have a right to say.

"I know, but I also have some stuff I had left as his place." Your breath came out shaky, your sitting down on the shared couch and yet you still feel like you're out of breath. Shoko walked from the kitchen to sit across from you,

"Do you want me to come with you?" Before you could answer with a simple ill be fine, it died on your tongue at the sound of her next words. "Look, you didn't hear it from me but, he's seeing someone else. Suguru blurted it out on accident when he found out you're still cooping yourself up in your room." She finished with a loud sigh, well, you definitely didn't expect that.

"Oh." How do you respond to this? During the break up he had mentioned staying friends, you agreed. Not willing to give him up completely. "Uh, do you," you looked up, finally looking her in the eyes, "Do you know who it is..?" The silence consumed you both as she shook her head.

You stood up, grabbing the box full of Sat- Gojos stuff. "I'll be back in a few 'ko." You gave her a weak smile, you had better things to do than allowing the fact he had moved on so fast to bother you.

Dropping the box off in your cars backseat, the teddy bear you had purchased for his birthday a few months back bounced out of the box and onto the floor. It smelt like him still, he had left it behind the last time he had spent the night, much to Shokos to dismay.

Instead of putting it back in the box, instead of listening to your thoughts screaming at you to not bring it into the frontseat with you. You did anyway, grabbing the passengers seat seatbelt where Gojo used to sit, you plugged the seatbelt in across the stuffed animal and continued on your way to the park where he had asked you to meet him.

Upon your arrival to the park you pulled out your phone, he had a thing for being late.

He had unfollowed you on all social medias when you had broken up, not wasting a second on switching your matching profiles and taking your initial out of his bio. You had laughed it off on how his social media presence was a hint you missed on the breakup. His bio changing from, "I love my cute girlfriend y/n <3" to " I love my gf" to "i 💙 my gf" to "y/n <3" all the way to "y/i<3" and finally, to just the plain first letter of your name.

The tears welled up in your eyes as you unprivated your account. Hoping that one day he'll stumble upon your profile and realize that he didn't completely break you, he totally did though.

Reorganizing it, changing your profile pic, your bio, removing highlights and deleting posts on your instagram.

Stalking yourself on the internet just to get a glimpse at what he might see.

When you see his profile you can tell he's barely affected by the breakup, his story lingered with posts of him smoking, partying, and of course,

his arm wrapped around a girl, offering her the same smile you had loved, looking at her with look in his eyes that screams, I love you.

How does he make moving on and throwing you away look so easy?

Your thoughts were interrupted when you saw him and his new girlfriend walking towards a bench nearby, he hadn't noticed you. His girlfriend was holding the box full of your stuff, she set it down and dug through it. If you didn't want your things back before you definitely don't now.

"Hey," Gojo giggled out at his girlfriends wondering hands, "She'd notice if anything of hers is missing, if you want it that bad i'll buy you a new one."

"Aw cmon! Look at this!" She held up the teddy bear. You both had bought each other bears, you looked down at your passenger seat to see the other half of it, one that represented him a little too much.

This wasn't worth, it was it? Seeing him again, hearing his voice only kills you more, would he even care? The junk in the box in your backseat was all easily replaceable and worth nothing to him.

As you continued to let your thoughts scatter you noticed the tears falling, yeah, it wasn't worth it. You told yourself it wasn't worth hearing his silky voice being directed towards you, the voice you knew would make you fold and beg him to take you back.

So you pulled out of the parking lot, the sound of your breaks that you definitely needed to get fixed based off the loud squeak they just let out, had caused him to look up. Looking into his eyes had only motivated you to drive faster. He saw you drive away, your phone didn't ring, not even after you had pulled into your apartments parking lot.

Shokos cars gone, so as you marched up the stairs and threw yourself onto your bed to sob into your pillow you were met back with silence.

He didn't call to ask for his stuff.

You thought he'd call at least.

The box of his stuff sat nicely on your desk.

Despite it only making you miss him more

You've learned to accept the fact you'll miss him all of the time.

You could deal with his stuff in your room.

#BREAK ROOM!⭑─

AYY FIRST ONE SHOT!! lmk if this sucks + tell me if a part doesn't make sense or if i spelled something wrong.. I think i got the ao3 writer effect bc i have been feeling like crap 😭😭 Im so behind in school too but im using my break to write this >o<!!

CREDITS ⭑─ 

Inspired by In My Room by Julia Wolf

please do not copy, translate, or reupload my work to different platforms. I do not own music, photos, or characters used. Things written in quote ( that isnt a character talking ) does NOT belong to me, I am not claiming to own any of it.

RULES ⭑─ 

Honestly there are no rules.. but try to keep it positive. Idc for mdni but small warning, i am not responsible for what you see on social media. if you see something you dont like please scroll it is not my responsibility to tell you who and what to interact with.

[thedarkestrivernymph]

when do u plan to finish start anew? No pressure tho

Ahh, actually I wrote part two ages ago, but I was so dissatisfied with it that I just abandoned it and forgot about it. 😶‍🌫️ (Actually planned it to be a three part series but nvm that..)

But you reminded me of it, so I am going to attach it to the ask.🤍

Start Anew

Concept: (secretly Y!) Monster!Tribe Head Husband x f!Human! Tribe Head Wife

warnings: none

©Copyright - 2025 - thedarkestrivernymph - All Rights Reserved

Chapter II.

It didn't take long for you to settle, to accept this new chapter in your divinely guided life—to adjust to the new rules imposed upon you. If you could call them that. The truth was, since your arrival you were forbidden from doing anything—not out of malice, but out of goodwill, perhaps too much of the latter.

An elder woman with strangely elongated arms, and a hump on her back was at your every beck and call. She didn't even allow you to lift a finger, scolding you when you as much as attempted to do something that was her job, which was strange, since you were certain she was blind. What was even stranger was that even as days passed and bled into an entire week—so eight full days in total—your betrothed didn't appear in front of you even once.

You knew it was custom for married couples to consummate on the first night of the marriage and then they would be split, for a total amount of two weeks before they were allowed to meet again. It was to give the bride rest and determine if she had fallen pregnant or not—not to mention it was mostly so that the spirits would calm, since a marriage could very well cause dispute between the two families in the spirit realm, and for the bond between two souls to find time to settle.

So perhaps him vanishing wasn't strange, but what was strange was, that he hadn't touched you the first night, so you had assumed he would come the day after, then you waited for him to visit you the night after—and suddenly a week passed and everyone acted as if you had followed tradition when in fact, you hadn't and that made you nervous.

“My lady, please drink.” the elderly urged you on, pushing a herbal mixture of some kind towards you, the smell of ginger suspiciously strong—so did she know of what didn't take place? You suspected so, but you wouldn't talk about such matters with her—or anyone except your husband and your grandparents for the matter.

“Where is he? You have guided me through all the rooms possible—we have even visited the gardens. I demand to know where my husband is.” you didn't want to be strict, in fact you remembered a time where you would have gladly torn your bridal attire into shreds like a rabid hound.

Something warm took ahold of her droopy face, then she smiled, her milky gaze landing on you eerily precise. Yet she didn't answer, let the silence consume your spacious room and forced your own gaze to shy away flustered and stare out at the beautifully intimidating scenery.

Butterflies as large your palm, overgrown flowers, breathing fish flying out of the pond in the middle of the garden, and wispy trees reaching far up into the sky to caress cotton pink clouds. Sighing you pushed yourself to your feet, the humid air causing your face to be dewy with sweat, so perhaps fresh air would do you good? So you took a step forward, then another and just as you were about to step foot out of the sliding door into the greenery and probably ruin the expensive fabric that your servant had draped you in this morning-

the earth shook. It trembled, it quivered as if icy tendrils were wrapping around its heart and you felt hands on your arm trying to pull you away from the crack above you—but it was too late and the world blurred into darkness replaced colour.

You awoke again—of course you did, that was your curse after all, to suffer, and you couldn't properly be antagonized but restrained to lash out in danger if dead, now could you?

“I am sorry, ceçe.” something breathed into your hairline—a man’s voice, while two suffocatingly heavy but gentle arms kept you caged in place.

“Husband—” “Call me Sephin.” he shushed you, gentle yet gigantic hands cradling your jaw as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Sephin.” you uttered and the new word felt foreign, yet welcome on your tongue as he was—strange, but comforting.

“I shouldn't have left you alone.” he beat you to it, not allowing your questions to rain down on him, pain in his gaze. “I won't ever ignore you again, I promise, ceçe. I just—I don't want to hurt you.” a large paw cupped your cheek.

“Your kind is so small, so fragile. You would snap in half if pressed too hard.” he muttered softly, tender enough to not agitate the pains having formed on your body from the assumable fall—the earthquake. You had completely forgotten.

“What happened? How is everyone? The maid—” you sputtered, pearls of sweat rolling down your forehead, worry etched onto your features as you abruptly sat up, only to groan and falter into his open arms.

“Don’t worry ceçe. My worrisome bride, everyone is safe. And you're now too, in your husband's arms.” he pressed a kiss to your crown.

And dozen more kisses followed suit, until you didn't have to worry about the consummation any more and melted into his loving embrace completely—until not only your souls but hearts synced to beat in the same rhythm.

[raghhhhhyperfixations]

Cavities

TW: VERY SCARY SPIDER PICS 😬

Tony thinks peter has a cavity, why? Because Peter has a nasty habit of poking at his teeth with his tongue when he thinks nobody is looking and it’s concerning to Tony who is in fact watching his intern with a worried look.

So he starts to limit the amount of sweets Peter has including the sugary drinks, Peter doesn’t notice at first but when he does he can’t but ask Tony why.

Who asks Peter:

:” When did you have your last dentist appointment?”

Peter: “Uhm. a couple weeks ago why?”

Tony: “Hmm, you’re not lying to me?”

Peter: “No?”

Tony:” Okay.”

Still Tony calls May later that day and asks because he doesn’t believe Peter, she confirms what he says, that he did have a dentist appointment a few weeks ago.

-

Tony: “And how did it go?”

May: “Good, he’s normally okay with his teeth why?”

Tony: “No particular…” he trails off. “Reason…”

She doesn’t believe him but lets him hang up anyway, knowing Tony he’s probably fretting over nothing or something majorly huge and since Peter hasn’t been weird, weird of late, she thinks it’s nothing.

-

This carries on, Tony sees Peter poking at his teeth, maybe with his finger or tongue and will end up dieting him on his sugar intake, he’ll be strict about it, He’ll ask May about the dentist.

The two notice.

Pepper notices.

Happy notices.

Nobody can explain Tony’s weird behaviour.

until…

Peter finally cracks and asks: “Mr stark is something wrong?”

Tony: “Other than the fact you won’t call me Tony, no whatssup underoos?” Tony swivells from where he’s sitting to face Peter.

Peter: “Because you’ve called may about my dentist, twice this week.”

Tony: “Well that. you see kid, can’t help but notice you poking at your teeth, thought they might hurt.”

Peter: “Oh.”

Tony: “Didn’t want it to be because of a cavity you know?”

Then it makes sense, why Peter was being cut off from his sweets why he was suddenly being handed water instead of pespi or Coca cola or even coffee with the worst combination of sugar inside it.

Because Peter had simply asked for that.

But Tony had thought about his health and rebuked no matter how hard he wanted to give into the requests.

Peter: “Actually Mr stark, i think my teeth have gotten sharper.”

Tony: “Huh?”

Peter takes a seat: “Yeah, can’t really tell because it’s not too sharp but they feel sharper, the canines do anyway.”

Tony: “…”

Peter only smiles.

Tony: “Ohhhh.”

Spider fangs, while Peter’s teeth didn’t turn into full on wolf fangs they did get a little bit sharper and he couldn’t help but bite on his tongue accidentally a few times or poke at them to be reminded of the sudden change that was Spider-man.

So when nobody was looking he’d poke at them more to try and explore this new discovery unfortunately he doesn’t have venom like an actual spider but he still thinks it’s pretty neat and hey! he has actual fangs now.

So whenever Tony has to do something now foodwise and it involves Peter, he takes into account of Peter’s sudden new fangs but of course he gets the

(Peter: “They barely aren’t there! you don’t have to slice my apples for me.”)

Or

(Peter: “I’m fine Mr Stark, i can eat my food just fine!)”

Little does Peter know, Tony likes slicing his apples up for him or perhaps changing their takeout order so it’s easier on Peter’s teeth and when the two are curled up in the penthouse living room in a quiet night.

Nobody but them?

With the most ridiculous movie on play (Peter’s chosen choice) and Peter sleeping on his chest, (Maybe, just Maybe, Tony can admit to himself it would be alright if continued to act a bit more fatherly towards his son.)

Pepper takes a picture when she comes in and sees Tony asleep, he wasn’t answering her calls or responding to Jarvis, it’s a shared and secret photo between her and May, one the two dote on quite regularly.

(The inspiration: )

[hawkeyetrained]

Hellhounds

Dean Winchester x fem!reader (established relationship)

Other Characters: Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer

Warnings: blood, wounds, major character death, canon violence/gore, reader!depression

Summary: Dean's demon deal is up and she wasn't there

AN: Ok, for some reason I really like writing the sad stuff to enjoy this heart wrenching fic.

Word Count: 2,505

She doesn’t know how it happened. Not really anyway. She has no idea how she managed to lose track of time so horribly. Months ago, she and Dean Winchester had practically torn a small town apart with Bobby Singer looking for Sam after the demon that killed Mary took Sam. She had watched the life drain from Sam Winchester’s eyes after he was literally stabbed in the back. She could still hear Dean’s pleading for his baby brother if she focused hard enough.

She wasn’t with Dean when he made the deal, and she sure as hell wouldn’t have allowed him to do it if he had told her about it. Though now, with all their resources and ideas drained, she’s dumbfounded on how she managed to lose track of the days leading to his inevitable death.

A hunting friend of hers had called that morning when she was preparing to leave the motel with Dean for breakfast, the phone call being short and full of pleading for some backup just a few towns over. Dean told her to go, to help the friend that seemed to really need an extra set of hands for an hour or so. She had thought about it for a few moments before giving in and heading for the highway. But what she thought was going to be only a few hours turned into most of the day.

By late afternoon she was getting strange unfinished texts from Sam and a few calls she was unable to answer at the time. When she was finally able to really look at her phone, her blood ran cold, and she was fairly certain her heart had stopped.

Hellhounds

That’s the word that made her flat-out sprint from the woods of the small hunt she was on and turn the original forty-five-minute drive back in only twenty. By the time she made it to the location Sam had sent her, she was far too late.

Rushed and unsteady footsteps landed her just outside a room, Sam’s hands grabbing her shoulders before she could enter. “You don’t wanna go in there.” He had whispered, hands and voice shaking. Her eyes flashed up to his, lips trembling and lashes already wet with tears.

“No.” The word was barely whispered as she looked at the doorway ahead of her. “No Sam…he’s…where’s Dean?” Her feet stepped to the side an inch before Sam had pulled her back again.

“You don’t-you don’t wanna see it.” His cheeks were splotchy and red, tear streaks making him shine in the ugly florescent lights.

Her heart pounded in her chest, ribs seeming to squeeze in on her. “Let me go. Dean!” She struggled against the hold Sam had on her. He hadn’t wanted to let her see, he wanted to keep the horror of seeing Dean’s body all torn up far away from her. He didn’t want her to remember the love of her life like that, like how he remembers Jess at times. But she was a hunter, just as good as he and his brother, so she managed to get away and face the half open doors.

The room was a complete mess when she stopped by the splintered wood that was once a beautiful door. Flooring ripped up and marred with claw marks, papers and fabric torn and littering the floor. And there in the center, Dean Winchester laid. His dark blue flannel and grey shirt torn though and soaked with dark blood. His once smooth skin was shredded away in places, leaking more of the crimson color onto the floors.

Her breath caught in her throat as she slowly approached his side. “Dean?” The word came out broken and desperate for an answer. She knelt down at his side, her gentle hands holding onto his left, smoothing over the few smaller cuts he had there from trying to protect himself, or get away. “Baby?” She was almost silent with how softly she spoke. “I need you to wake up.”

Sam stood in the doorway silently watching her as tears continued to fall down his cheeks. He was half leaned against the frame, looking very much like a little boy who just lost his big brother, but also holding just enough power to be the strength and protection that he knew she was going to need while completely focused on the body of his dead brother. He knew he wasn’t going to let anything happen to her while she say with Dean’s body.

“Dean.” She was begging at this point, salty tears falling from her eyes as she stared into the lifeless green ones that he had fallen so hard for. “Please, I…I can’t do this with-without you.” The sobs caused her words to break, her sentences slipping into snippets as she tried to breathe through the pain in her chest. Why did she have to leave earlier? Would Dean still be alive if she hadn’t gone to help? Was this all her fault? “Dean!” She was starting to panic. The questions swirled in her head as she shook him. “Please! I need you!”

Sam stepped in at that point. He fell to his knees beside her and pulled her into his chest. She let him hold her and the two of them let out the most heat wrenching sounds that would have brought anyone else to tears. She had kept her hands held tightly to Dean’s as she allowed Sam to wrap his arms around her shoulders as they cried.

Dean Winchester was gone.

_____

The following months all blurred together. After the two of them had managed to pull themselves together, if even just for a few moments, Bobby had come down and helped them with a hunters funeral for Dean. He wrapped Dean in a soft white sheet while Sam built the platform. She had barely managed to drag herself outside, needing the support from Bobby to even be able to stand and watch as the flames ate away at Dean in the center.

She had taken the time to slip the ring from his hand and the bracelet from his wrist before Sam lit the fire, both now adorning her wrist and sitting on a chain around her neck as she did her best to carry on for the day.

Heartbroken, she had gone back with Bobby to his house, but she was barely able to breathe without Dean in her life, let alone go on living hers. She spent her days up in the room Bobby was kind enough to give her, laid in bed with a shirt of Dean’s wrapped around her. Her eyes barely left the blank wall above her bed.

Bobby did his best to keep her eating and drinking, but he could only do so much for the heartbroken girl in his spare room. He was struggling too. Sam barely called to check in, rarely even asking about the girl his brother was so in love with. Bobby had felt like he had lost a son himself, but he coped by throwing himself into his work, trying to help as many other hunters as he could.

_____

Four months. That’s when the knock sounded on the front door.

She barely reacted to it, only managing to turn from the wall behind her bed to face the door of her room, and that was only in case Bobby called for help. Muffled conversations floated up the stairwell from the front door, most of it sounding like it was coming from Bobby, that he was demanding something of the visitor. Then it went quiet for a moment and that’s when the steps started coming up the stairs.

She gripped onto the knife that had barely left her side since she had gotten to Bobby’s place. The smooth worn wood grip slightly comforting at the thought of a threat making its way past the Singer man downstairs. Just as the door to her room was creaking open, Bobby himself poked his head in with a soft knock. “Think you can come downstairs for a moment?”

She relaxed the grip she had on her knife. “Why?” Her voice was scratchy from lack of use over the last few months.

“There’s someone here for you.” Bobby encouraged, his feet bringing him to the edge of her bed. “Come on.” He was demanding but trying to give her the time she needed to convince herself to get up. He understood what it felt like to lose the person she loved the most and that it was some of the worst pain imaginable, but he knew he had just the visitor she needed waiting downstairs in his living room. “For me?” He held his hand out to help her stand from the bed.

She stared at his hand for a moment. She really didn’t feel like seeing anyone, even if Bobby did think they would help her at all, though she highly doubted it. A deep sigh left her nose as she placed her hand in his, allowing him to pull her into a seated position. “Ok.” Her answer sounded defeated, like she knew that no matter who was down there to cheer her up, it wasn’t going to be the one person she actually wanted to see.

Bobby turned and clomped his way back down the stairs as she worked on getting herself up from the bed she had spent the majority of the last few months in. Her eyes caught her reflection as she neared the door. Wild hair from laying down, slightly puffy eyes from constantly crying herself to sleep, dark circles staining the skin around her eyes from the lack of sleep and nightmare combination. She was barely dressed in black leggings and a flannel of Dean’s buttoned up, so she took just a few seconds to run her fingers through her hair to tame it a little.

The voices slowly flooded up the stairs again as she approached the top step. One was Bobby, asking a few simple questions of the surprise visitor, but it was the other voice that nearly sent her falling down the stairs.

It couldn’t be. Her mind had to be playing a sick joke on her. She knew that other voice. It was one of her favorites to listen to. It was a voice she hadn’t heard in four months now. Four months because the owner of the voice was dead. She had seen him for herself. Skin shredded with claw marks, blood pooling on the hard wood floor, bright green eyes devoid of the light of life. Dean was talking to Bobby.

“Bobby?” She rushed down the stairs, hands searching for any weapon she could find as she hit the bottom step, opting to pick up a silver blade the size of her forearm as she approached the man who had housed her all this time. “Get away from him!” She shouted, shoving herself between Bobby and the imposter. “Back up!”

He looked so much like Dean. Same bright eyes she loved, same smooth skin and freckles covering his face. He even sounded like him when he spoke to her.

“Sweetheart, it’s me.” Dean held his hands up, trying to show that he wasn’t going to hurt her. He understood where she was coming from. Years of hunting trained them not to trust anyone or anything that came into their lives, hell, Bobby had run all the tests on him just a few moments ago when he first showed up. “I promise you. It’s really me.”

The blade shook in her hands as her emotions betrayed her. “I don’t believe you! Dean died four months ago.” Her eyes filled with tears that leaked over onto her cheeks, red with fear and confusion. “What are you?”

“Ask Bobby. Sweetheart it’s me, I’m back.” Dean kept his hands out and allowed her the time to glance over him. His hand held a dish rag, soaking up a little blood from the silver knife. His shirt was stained with water drops, what she’s assuming was holy water Bobby had thrown at him. She was frantically looking for any signs that he would be a monster, any burning or marks on his skin, but she found nothing.

A hand rested on her shoulder as she shook. “It’s really him honey.” Bobby mumbled so she didn’t jump. “It’s really Dean.” His other hand came around to wrap around the handle of the blade she still held, gently taking it just as a loud sob wracked her body.

Dean swooped forward just then, gently bringing her to his chest and kneeling them to the ground. “I gotcha sweetheart.” He whispered words into her ear as she sobbed into his chest. Tears soaked into the fabric of his shirt, his hands never leaving her as he did his best to soothe her. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She held on tightly to Dean, hands finding the hot skin of his back from being in the afternoon sun, nose pressed tightly to his neck as she tried to even out her breathing and focus on the man holding her. Dean was back, he was holding her and speaking to her.

“You-you were dead. I-I saw you all-all torn up.” She pulled back just enough to really look into his eyes for the first time in what felt like forever. “I was-wasn’t there.” She hiccupped.

“I’m here now.” His hand brushed the hair from her face gently. “You didn’t need to see it happen.”

“But I-“ Dean cut her off before she could spiral and blame herself even more.

“Stop.” He hushed her, resting his head against hers. “Just be here with me.”

She nodded, closing her eyes and focusing on the feel of his hands on her, his head against hers, the soft sway of his body as he did all he could to calm her. He was savoring the feeling of her being back in his arms, of smell of her fading shampoo from the last time she managed to crawl from her bed and take care of herself. Bobby had given him quick notes on how horribly she had been handling his absence, so he was doing all he could to convince her that he was actually there with her again.

When her breathing had finally steadied, she opened her eyes to find his bright green ones already staring back at her. “You’re here?” She asked.

“I’m here.” He nodded. With one hand gently holding her head, he pulled her into the most loving kiss he could, trying to relay all the pain he knew they had both felt over time apart. She still had tears falling from her eyes as she kissed Dean, this time the tears for the overwhelming happiness and relief she felt flooding her veins at the thought of finally having him back with her.

She’s sure that when the hellhound came to drag Dean’s soul to hell, it took a part of her’s alone with his.

@thetallassgirl @hallecarey1

[dragonflavoredcake]

So about basic tailoring... This might be an easy to answer and dumb question but I feel slightly overwhelmed when I go to google this myself.. where do you start learning? Ideally for as little money as possible. Clothes are difficult to fit to my body type and I have some items I would like to repair so i really need this.

Don't apologize, I'm always happy to get asks! Number 1 piece of advice: don't be afraid to be dumb. I've only been sewing for two years; I had to Google how to thread a needle and it took me three days to learn how to thread a bobbin on a machine.

This got very long so the rest is below the cut

In my experience, a good-sized spool of machine thread usually costs about three dollars. If your local grocery store sells general merchandise, they might have some common colors in a "sewing center" section, which will almost definitely be cheaper than if you go to a dedicated sewing shop. They might even sell sewing kits with basic supplies. Hand sewing thread tends to be cheaper than machine thread. You can use machine thread for hand sewing, but you can’t use hand-sewing thread on a machine. If your hands tremble a lot or you're not confident, some places sell pre-threaded needles.

There are a lot of sewing supplies available, but you really don't need much to get started:

thread that's roughly the same color as your fabric

some pins

sharp needle that's big enough for you to comfortably thread and small enough to not poke way bigger holes in the fabric than the thread warrants

a pair of scissors. They don't even need to be fabric scissors! I used regular craft scissors for a year and a half until I found some fabric scissors on clearance. You're not going to be cutting fabric as a beginner anyway, just thread.

One rule for baby’s first repair/tailoring job: make it reversible. You’re going to make mistakes. You’re not going to start out knowing everything there is to know. You can always cut threads or take off buttons, but you can’t un-cut fabric or magically reverse huge holes.

For tailoring: find a piece of clothing you like. I recommend starting with a no-frills sleeveless shirt with non-adjustable straps. Buy it to fit the biggest/widest part of your body. The looser it fits, the more room you have for adjustments.

Put it on inside-out, figure out where it’s too big, fold the fabric in, and pin it in place. Carefully take the shirt off, lay it out flat, thread your needle, consult a video tutorial on how to prepare the needle and thread for sewing (never forget that double knot), make the first stitch where the knot of thread won’t irritate your skin, and sew the fold in place.

When in doubt, leave more room than expected, because your body is constantly changing to accommodate your organs’ various activities; something that barely fits you when you first wake up is going to be causing actual pain by midday.

Small jobs that are low-risk and can help boost your confidence: shortening tank top straps (fold fabric over and sew in place), reinforcing or re-attaching buttons, and doing simple hems (cuff fabric, fold over twice, and sew in place) on pajama pants. Fuzzy fabrics tend to be very forgiving and naturally hide messy stitches.

If you need fabric, do not automatically head to the fabric store. Yes, they’ll have a huge variety, but it’ll be sold at a premium and you’ll have to machine-wash your fabric before using it to remove the shrinking (an additive that helps the fabric lay flat on the bolt). Look in thrift stores and garage sales. 

You can get a lot of mileage out of a men’s extra-large T-shirt. If you need more fabric than that, look for secondhand sheet sets. They’re the closest thing you can get to straight-off-the-bolt fabric that isn’t sold as an expensive hobby product, plus there’s some elastic in the fitted sheet. I’m currently in the process of making a dress with a circle skirt using fabric from a 4-piece twin sheet set I thrifted for sixteen bucks. Buying that much fabric at a fabric store would’ve cost several times more.

If you’re still worried, take a breath. Whatever you don’t know, you will learn. Google is a powerful tool and YouTube has heaps of tutorials. The worst that can happen is that you make a mistake. Mistakes can be fixed. Mistakes are how you learn. The worst mistakes often make great stories.

TL;DR: you only need four things, buy clothing to fit the largest part of your body, get cheap fabric from thrift stores, and don’t be afraid to make stupid mistakes!

[silverskyeline]

'messy' 18+

oneshot (request) - logan learns that you can squirt, he indulges in that information (1.8k words) pairing - logan howlett (xmen) x f!reader tags - established relationship, fingering, petnames: babygirl, baby, good girl, praising, kind of overstimulation, squirting, lots of squirting, a little rough, he talks reader through it, wet mentions, reader orgasm, dirty talk, fingers in mouth, logan makes reader taste themselves.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

you're splayed out on his lap on the sofa just how he likes you to be, nestled on top of his plush, firm thighs. your knees are bent with your ankles resting over either side of his legs, your back flush with his warm chest, your whole body exposed, open, for him.

logan's thick, calloused fingers lazily stroke your clit, earning soft mewls from your lips as your head tilts back over his shoulder. his other hand is ensuring his middle finger pumps in and out of you at a slow pace, your body craving those broad digits stretching your tight walls.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

you're moaning, gripping his arm for dear life as you squirm in his lap, rolling your hips instinctively. it was beautiful, the way he could make you sing for him, the way he could make your body move for him with just a few simple strokes, almost like a puppet, pulling your strings. he would never consider himself your 'master', but god, you'd let him control you whenever he liked.

he smirks, nuzzling his fuzzy beard into the side of your cheek, his lips finding their place at your ear, "that feel good, baby girl?" logan asks, his voice a deep purr. he already knows the answer.

you gasp at his low-toned voice, gruff like gravel but sweet like honey, "yes. . ."

"mh, that's what i thought. . . think you can take a little more though." he huffs, slipping another finger inside.

your walls clench around the sudden new presence and you moan, loudly, craving the feeling of being filled by him in whatever capacity he's willing to give.

"that's it," he coos, picking up the pace, "good girl, gooood girl. . ." logan loves how easily he can slip inside of you, how he'd always find you dripping, cunt aching, core throbbing for him. his sensitive ears perk up at the sweet sounds of your wet pussy taking his fingers in, the wet schlick sounds filling the room.

your cheeks flush, looking down at the way his fingers are making light work of you, your shirt hiked up to expose your breasts. with the pace increasing, and the way he's so sweetly purring filthy words into your ear. . . you feel a sensation start to build.

it's. . . new, almost uncomfortable but not quite. not the same as an orgasm but almost. it pools low in your belly, just a little out of reach.

but his fingers pick up again, slamming deep inside of you, curling just enough. his fingers circling your clit remain slow in contrast, creating a dizzying combination of sensations that have you clenching around him and calling out his name over and over in some desperate plea. desperation for him to continue, for the building feeling, for him, full stop.

the feeling returns. fuck, it almost feels like you need to piss. your cheeks flush, eyes rolling back as you fight back the feeling, but he's rubbing you and touching you and fucking you too good for you to hold anything back.

"logan," you gasp, arching your back, "l-logan wait-"

but it's too late, before he even has the chance to slow down, you squirt. your juices coat his hands, his fingers, dripping down along his arm and onto the sofa below earning a gasp from both of you.

his eyes widen, stopping his movements immediately causing you to whine at the sudden lack of friction.

then there's silence, save for the lewd wet dripping from the sofa onto the hardwood floor.

your head is reeling, did. . . did you just squirt? fuck, you'd never done that before. heart pounding, you swallow hard, instinctively wanting to apologise for the mess, "shit, sorry i-"

"holy fuck. . ." he whispers shakily before you even have the chance to finish your sentence, "where were you hidin' that from me?" you can hear the smirk in his voice clear as day as he talks into your ear.

"what?" you whisper.

he smirks, kissing your ear, "you didn't tell me you could make cute little messes like that, baby."

"i didn't know i could. . ." you admit, biting your lip as you feel the cool air of the room brush against your dripping sensitive core.

logan's eyes widen, the implication of your words nestling deep in his brain, and groin. he was the first ever to make you squirt, the first to make you feel so good that you couldn't help but make a mess for him. pride swells in his chest, manifesting in a low rumbling smug chuckle at the back of his throat.

". . .think you could make another mess for me?" he hums, his fingers on your clit slowly resuming their movements.

you whimper, the new sensation you experienced was foreign but surprisingly welcomed. you had no idea it felt that good, that you could ever do that. but logan has a way of coaxing everything out of you, cock and fingers playing you like an instrument he's mastered.

"don't know. . ." you mumble, suddenly feeling skittish.

it's then that his fingers start fucking you again, gliding in and out easily, your fluttering hole welcoming the movement. "you can, i know you can." he encourages, nibbling at your ear, "you'll be a good girl, you'll make another mess for me, won't you?"

fuck, his words. his fucking words. every single time they had you acting crazy, letting out sounds you didn't know you could make. and he drinks them in, drinks up all those sweet little sounds from that pretty little mouth of yours that he loves so much.

you simply nod, feeling his digits pumping rougher, curling to find that sweet sweet spot once more. you're not sure if you can even do it again, but logan seems pretty fucking set on making him gush for you at least once more.

he scissors his fingers slightly, stretching you, the motion making you whine with pleasure. but when he pushes in a third finger? that's when you really start screaming for him.

"that's more like it, huh?" he grins, breathing deeply through his nose from how hard he's working you, "just needed a bit more, cus' i know you like it thick baby, don't you? like it thick like my cock?"

you want to gasp, to react to his words, but your eyes are rolling back again, mouth stuck open in an 'o' shape as you feel that sensation build once more. your body is tensing, thighs clenching, back arching, eyes squeezing shut. subconsciously you hold your breath as if that'll help. he's got you right where he wants you, right where he knows you want to be.

seconds later you're gushing, more this time - it lands on the hardwood below with a crude splash and coats his hands nicely. logan laughs, a deep dirty laugh as you writhe. he gives a gentle slap to your clit, then a firmer one, causing more to spill from you along with some squeaks.

"there we go, good girl, what a good girl. . ." you can hear the smirk in his voice, the wide grin he's wearing, the smugness lacing every word that leaves his lips, "feels good to make a mess for me, doesn't it?"

you're breathless, panting, overwhelmed in the best way. and then he speaks again.

". . . i think you can handle one more." logan purrs, movements suddenly fast and hard. his fingers fuck deep into you, curling to hit your g-spot with each calculated thrust. the fingers on your clit speed up, rubbing in practiced circles sending sparks of electricity throughout your body.

you want it too, you'd give it to him over and over again, create messes all night long if your body let you.

god you'd do anything for him, especially in that moment, and how could you not? the way his fingers play with you, toy with you, slide into you. . .

"d-don't know if i can!" you admit, huffing, trying to get more air.

but he shakes his head, "yes you can." is all he says, firmly.

and he's right. moments later you feel it pooling in your belly once more, the accompanying orgasm approaching that threatens to throw you overboard. you're lost in a sea of sensations, stars in your vision, his voice in your ear the only anchor you have to reality. you let it guide you, until you're drenching his fingers and jeans once more, voice ringing out within his bedroom as his voice coaxes and praises you softly.

his fingers on your clit come together to slap down against you, each smack against your sensitive bundle of nerves causing more to spray. you're making such a big mess, his jeans are damp. he doesn't care. this is what he wants, and fuck, if you don't feel the best you've ever felt in your entire life. . .

he keeps going, his fingers steadily pumping into you roughly, desperate to get every last drop as he feels you clamp down around his fingers. you're moaning, gasping, gripping onto his arm for dear life as you ride out your orgasm. it's too much, but it's also perfect. logan watches on in deep satisfaction as you writhe on his lap, his bulge pressing against you above him, cock twitching and rock hard just from touching you.

as your body relaxes, so do his movements, slowing down. he glides his fingers in a few times, enjoying the slick sounds they make before pulling them from your still-fluttering hole. he lazily drifts his damp digits along your tummy, leaving a trail of wetness up to your chest until it finds your mouth.

you part your lips gladly, turning your head to look up at him through hooded lids as you take his fingers in your mouth. diligently, your tongue laps at his fingers, reeling at the taste of yourself on him, dripping from him.

"good girl, you're always so fuckin' good for me. . ." he smiles, kissing your forehead as he watches you, his free hand resting on your tummy. you enjoy the feeling of his large palm against you, making you feel comforted whilst also grounding you after that whirlwind of release.

you pull his fingers from your mouth with a wet pop, instead kissing along his fingers and down across the sensitive skin of his knuckles. a silent thank you, for making you feel so good.

logan watches keenly, growling quietly at the stirring in his groin. his eyes flash with something. you'd call it mischief.

your eyes flit up to his, knowing what he's thinking before he's even said it.

"wonder what else you can do. . ." he smirks, "keeping any other secrets from me?" logan asks as he rolls his hips against you, prompting you to feel how hard he is for you and you exhale, relaxing back against him.

it was funny, how he could always push you right to the edge when you think you're spent.

and yet have you craving more. . .

you grin, biting your lip, "wanna find out?"

[dollfacefantasy]

MAKE HIM DO WHAT I SAY ♡

pairing: older bf!!logan howlett x fem!reader

summary: you and logan make a little bet. who can last longer without sex? as much as he wants to deny it, he's starting to think the answer might be you.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, brief daddy kink (one mention)

a/n: a commission for my sweet @sleepyluxe who i love so very much <33 this fic takes place after the events of dofp when things are fixed.

Seven days. One week. A quarter of a month. That's how long it had been since Logan and you had fucked.

It was brutal. Some may say he's being dramatic, but that's because they've never had the luxury of you. They couldn't understand losing a paradise they've never experienced. The past several days he's felt like a man wandering through a barren desert, the oasis in sight but never close enough to drink from. Absolute torture.

Unfortunately, this situation came about because he couldn't keep his mouth shut.

You'd been getting some work done late last Sunday evening. Just a few plans for the upcoming school week. Your fingers punched away at your computer while Logan lay on the bed twirling a stray cigar between his fingers.

"How many more pages you got?" he asked, boosting his head up to glance at you.

At the sound of his voice, you spun your chair around to face him. "Not that many. Just finalizing a few details for the field trip they're taking the kids on next weekend," you said.

"You're not even going. Why're they making you do that?"

The fat stick of tobacco continued to glide between his digits. One of your legs crossed over the other as you watched him.

"I'm not going because I offered to do all the planning," you reminded him. 

Your eyes stayed on the tantalizing movements of his fingers.

"You know you can't smoke in here, so don't even think about it," you said.

He rolled his eyes and puffed air through his pursed lips as if that was an outrageous warning. Sitting up, he put the cigar back in the drawer on his side of the bed. He rose to his feet and began to cross the room in your direction.

"Maybe you should give me something else to do with my mouth then," he teased, his voice lowering to the octave that reverberated with want for you.

Then it was your turn to roll your eyes. You turned your chair back toward the desk and continued grazing your fingertips over the raised letters.

It didn't deter him though. He kept on in your direction, stopping only when he was directly behind the backing of your seat.

His hands landed on your shoulders, fingers massaging the tight muscles fanning out from your neck. He leaned forward so his head hovered beside yours. You could hear each breath he took. The smell of that cigar lingered around his form even if he hadn't lit up tonight.

"C'mon, babydoll. You've been working so hard. A little break won't hurt you," he murmured, lips pressing against your cheekbone.

"I have to have these done by tomorrow morning. Just give me a few minutes, and then I'll be done for the night and completely focused on you," you'd rebuffed him gently.

But that didn't satisfy Logan. When he wanted you, he got you. He proceeded with his tender touches and luring pecks. You remained focused on your work though. He figured he should vary his approach.

"Just let me make you feel good then, honey. Give you some extra motivation," he whispered. His dedicated hands drifted to your waist, squeezing in a way that teased the idea of lifting you up and putting you on his lap. As good as it would've felt to be full of him, you knew you had to get this done.

"You're so bad," you said with a smile, head falling back a little as his mouth moved to your neck, "You act like you haven't gotten any in decades."

"Is that your way of telling me you're getting tired of me?" he teased.

"No. I'm just saying you're insatiable. It's getting to the point where I don't think you could live without me," you responded with a tone matching his in arrogance.

His eyebrow raised, and he pulled back a little to laugh. "That so?"

"Mhm," you nodded. Your sweet eyes stared him down, begging him to disagree.

Looking back, he wishes he could travel through time again to slap any further words out of his mouth. He should've just agreed! Should've told you that you were absolutely right. That he can't live without you, can't survive this life if he doesn't get to slip inside of you at the end of each day. He should've waited the fifteen minutes it would've taken you to finish your paperwork and then gotten laid.

But he didn't do any of that. He had to keep going and dig himself into a deeper hole.

"Don't act so innocent, princess. You're just as bad as me," he'd said.

"No way," you'd huffed, smirking with amusement, "I want you a totally normal amount. You want me like every second of the day. If you could, I don't think you'd ever let me do anything. You'd probably keep me chained to the bed, yours for the taking at all times of the day.

"Like you wouldn't love that. I'm not the one pawing at you every morning, whining about how bad I need it," he taunted.

"Oh shut up, that's happened like a couple times. Every day you're right in my ear, feeling me up. You practically drag me away from what I'm doing when you wanna fuck," you fired back, "I am nowhere near as bad as you."

And then he'd spoken the three cursed words that launched him into this predicament.

"You wanna bet?"

You laughed more at that and nodded again. "Sure. Because I know I'll win."

And that unofficial vow of celibacy was why the two of you had been dancing around each other for the past week. He was starting to feel like that old love song counting the amount of time it'd been since he had you beneath him last. Fifteen hours and seven days or however it went.

You didn't make this trying time any easier for him either. That night he went to sleep with blue balls. The next morning, he woke up to you getting ready. You weren't dressed in your usual style of clothing though. Instead, you had on a dress, Logan's favorite dress of yours. You'd styled your hair real pretty too, letting it compliment your features in the best way.

As his heavy lids blinked open to consciousness, he watched you fasten a shimmering necklace over your collarbone. It sat just above the neckline of the chiffon fabric that adorned your bust.

You caught his waking eyes with your own in the reflective glass, turning to look at him with a bright smile. 

Despite his bleary vision, he could hear the light steps of you prancing over to him. The mattress dipped with your weight as you sat down and leaned in to kiss his forehead. Your fingers slid through his dark hair just the way he likes, with your nails scratching his scalp a little. Worst of all, that close, the scent of your perfume became all consuming. It hit him harder than normal. He wasn't sure if he should blame you or himself for predicting the trials of the coming days.

He hummed in acknowledgement of your presence and nuzzled into your palm.

"Hey, sleepyhead," you cooed, your voice extra soft and sweet. It was too caring to be seductive, but of course, that's where his mind went anyways.

"Hey, baby," he'd mumbled.

"I gotta go drop off that paperwork, but I'll see you later. I love you," you whispered in return before laying one more column of kisses from the tip of his nose back to his forehead.

Then you'd left, leaving him half-hard and yearning for you. A pattern that would plague him over the next week.

Each day it was some new form of torture. The day after that, you'd worked extra hard in the danger room, coming back to him at night covered in a light sheen of sweat. Your heady natural scent filled the bedroom in moments.

The following afternoon, you wanted to cuddle when you both had some free time. The fact that you draped your leg over his torso, slotting your clothed cunt right against his hip, inches away from his cock, was pure accident of course.

Over the last few days, your games have become less specific. You peppered your speech with innuendo. Looked at him with your fuck-me eyes and spoke in the tone you always used seconds before he ended up bending you over the nearest surface.

He tried to fight back, he really did. He stopped wearing a shirt in your shared room. Every time he talked to you, he made sure to rub your ass or stroke your cheek. He was so desperate he stooped to embarrassing levels of lovey-dovey when the two of you were alone. But no matter what he tried, it seemed like you'd been right. Of your pair, you had the superior restraint.

With each passing hour, his frustration grew.

Today, it reaches its zenith.

The mansion is empty because it's Sunday. All the students and other teachers are out on the trip to the observatory today. You and Logan are the only remaining residents in the school. He ended up not having to tag along with the rest of the group after volunteering to fix the sprinklers bordering the school's patio. Babysitting kids had never been his forte even with all the practice he gets at it now. Simple handiwork he could do no problem.

The two of you take the morning to sleep in. This was a rare occasion where no early meetings or classes occupied your schedules. You stay tangled up together well past sunrise.

Logan is the first to leave the warmth and comfort of your embrace. He pulls himself from the nest of pillows and blankets, stretching his limbs out as he does. He rubs the tiredness from his features before rising and heading to the wardrobe to pull on some clothes.

In addition to his normal black t-shirt and jeans, he grabs the tool belt on his way out to the lawn. He slings it around his hips before walking through the back door. Heading past the basketball court and rows of hedges, he finds the line of leaking sprinklers besides them. It would probably take him a while given that he had to first identify the source of the problem and then recalibrate all of them with the adjustment.

He sighs but gets to work. At least he'd have a distraction from the desires haunting him.

Crouching in the dewy grass next to the little faucets, he begins examining the hard plastic shells. To his surprise, scanning for breaks does attach his mind to the task and give him a brief reprieve. It's quiet outside. Besides a small chirp from a distant bird or a grunt out of him, no other sounds echo over the open space. The sun shines in the sky, but it's not beating down on him. The air tickles his skin with warmth but not to the point of being miserably humid.

All the conditions meet in the perfect middle to keep him calm. It's the most peace he's had since he agreed to this bet between the two of you.

But all that tranquility is shattered about a half hour later when he hears the patter of footsteps against the stone pathway. From around the tall thicket of green foliage, comes you. Your face breaks out into a smile the second you burst into his vision. He would look the same if not for what you'd decided to wear.

You trot over to him across the grass in a pair of tiny black shorts with lacy frills on the hems. They sway with each of your movements, highlighting the shape of your legs. A gray camisole graces your upper half; a delicate white bow sits at the center of the collar, dead center between your breasts. The fit of the garment displays the contour of your chest just right. He feels like he's gonna start drooling before you make it near.

Despite his reaction, the outfit wasn't that provocative. It wasn't like you'd strutted out in lingerie. But he was so pent up that a flash of your ankle in the proper lighting could probably get him hard.

Bounding up to him, you wrap his body in a tight hug. Every curve of your form presses up against him.

"Look at you, working so hard," you praise playfully with a kiss to his cheek.

He laughs it off, returning the hug in an attempt to be normal, so you wouldn't see how vulnerable he was right now, how this was the perfect opportunity to strike. He couldn't let you know that in this moment, he could easily become the prey.

"Were you missing me already?" he asks, rubbing his free hand up and down your spine.

"Mhm. Woke up and you were gone," you reply. You nuzzle the crook of his neck, planting a few electric kisses on his skin.

"I didn't wanna wake you. You're pretty cute when you're sleeping," he mutters.

"Well now I'm gonna be cute out here with you," you say and pull back. You peck his lips one more time before plopping down in the grass behind him.

He glances back at you to see what that means. All you're doing is sitting there. Your legs extend out in front of you, straightened for his eyes to rake over. You lean back with your palms against the moist greenery below you.

"You don't got anything better to do with your day off?" he asks.

That earns him a small pout. "If you want me to leave, I will. I just wanna spend time with you."

He can tell by your tone that your intentions aren't so innocent. You're leading him into allowing your presence. But denying his girlfriend has never been one of the wolverine's strengths so of course, he acquiesces.

"Relax. I'm not telling you to go anywhere," he says as he turns back to his work, "I just don't think this will be that interesting to you."

"Watching you do anything is interesting to me," you joke back.

He rolls his eyes and gets back to work.

At first, things are smooth as before. He continues messing with the small, bendy pipes. You're quiet behind him. Almost too quiet, but he lets it go for now since he thinks he's found the source of the malfunction.

It doesn't take long to patch up. The more difficult part is going to each individual head and fixing the tightness. His fingers twist the little knobs to the correct settings. He then turns to you when he's finally done.

The sight of you feels like a gust of fresh air filling his lungs. You're laid out where you were before, but you've reclined across the ground. One of your arms is sprawled outwards, soaking up the sunlight while the other lazily covers your eyes. Your shadow outlines your figure against the emerald blades below you.

You look luscious and ripe, like a precious fruit ready to be picked and devoured. In any other circumstance, that's exactly what he'd do. He'd spread you out further for him and take you apart piece by piece. He wanted your nectar running down his chin with each savoring lap of his tongue. He craved the feeling of your heat wrapped around him, your walls massaging his shaft during every punishing thrust.

Imagining it now only gets the blood pumping down South to his hardening length.

He runs a hand over his hair and sighs. Why didn't he do that now? What was the point of this stupid fucking contest? It's not like there was anything on the line. The only stake was his pride, which to be honest, he'd already compromised for you multiple times over the course of your relationship.

Unbuckling the leather from his waist, he discards the tool belt. Next he peels his shirt from his body and tosses it to the side.

He makes his way to you on the grass. He drops to his knees and leans forward. His muscular frame cages you in against the ground. Starting at your navel, he drags his nose up your body. He coasts over the valley between your breasts and past your collar bone. His soft exhales breeze across your throat before he finally reaches your cheek. With a gentle pull, he clears your arm from your face.

Your eyes flutter to adjust to the sunlight beaming down on them again. They take in the vision of him so close to you and the way he gazes down with adoration.

"Hey, pretty girl," he says, his voice much softer than it'd been before, "You falling asleep on me?"

His thumb rubs over your jawline while the other strokes the crown of your head. A smile blooms across your lips. You can't help it with how he's behaving.

"No... well, maybe a little. I think you were right. Sprinklers are pretty boring," you say.

He grins and leans in to kiss your lips. With the exchange he hopes to communicate everything he doesn't want to say. I give up. You win.

You reach up and cup his scruffy cheeks. Your tongue swipes against his lips, sensing his longing for intimacy. He allows you in, and you deepen the connection. A long breath oozes from your nostrils.

He presses you down against the ground further as your hands slide over the little white streaks in his hair. Your fingers embed themselves in his locks. You feel his hands sliding down your body. They stop at your hips and give the plush flesh a squeeze.

It's obvious what he wants, but in case there was any doubt, his digits then hook around the top of your shorts and give them a tug.

A giggle bubbles up out of you against his mouth. You pull back to look at him with smug eyes.

"Is that your way of admitting I was right?" you ask.

He grumbles and ducks his head down to start kissing your neck. "Don't get cocky or I'll change my mind."

That makes you laugh more. You yank on his hair and pull him back up to look at you. 

"No you won't," you tease and brush your noses together. Looking into his eyes again, you can see how bad he wants this. "Just say it."

"Say what?"

"Say you're giving in. And that I win. And that you can't live without me."

He gives you a blank stare. Silently, he contemplates if there's any way around this. He wonders if there's a way he can avoid utter humiliation.

"C'mon, baby. Throw an old dog a bone," he grumbles.

Giggling, you shake your head. "Nuh uh. I wanna hear you say it."

He sighs and rolls over, pulling you on top of him. You straddle his hips with learned ease. Your smile glows from this angle. The sunlight above cascades over your frame and only further accentuates your body in your tight clothes. He rubs his hands up and down your sides. His dick is already at half-mast under the denim that covers his lower body. Your heat rests right on top of it, teasing him through the barriers of cloth. It dangles what he could have if he gives you what you want right before him.

The words that challenged you and created this trap for himself came out so easy. Why couldn't these be the same?

To coax him along, you grind down the slightest bit. The pressure's so light and gentle, a mere graze of your mound on the outline of his growing bulge. He hisses at the feeling.

"Just admit it," you say, planting your palms on his chest, "Just say I was right and you were wrong."

He watches you above him, knowing you're not going to drop this. If he wanted this self-invoked dry spell to end, he'd have to make it happen.

You roll your hips down with more force, impatient to hear him comply with your request. A small whimper leaks out of you. He can tell from that sound alone that you're getting worked up. That arousal is beginning to collect between your thighs.

The thought of it makes his need for you almost biological. His hands clamp around your waist and press you down harder. He rocks his up a little to meet your own movements.

"I need you so bad, princess," he sighs, his eyes shutting as he takes in the dull pleasure of you on top of him.

"Then you can say what I told you," you tease.

"What was it again?" he asks as he continues dragging your covered pussy back and forth along his now fully hard shaft.

"Say you're giving in. That I win. And that you can't live without me," you remind him, visibly proud of your victory.

With a sigh, he repeats, "I'm giving in. You win. I can't live without you."

You smile and laugh as if it was the best thing you'd ever heard. Your head falls back with glee before coming up so you can see his face again.

"Actually, can you say that again? I'm gonna grab my phone. That way I can film it this time. I just wanna have a record-" you continue to tease, but you're cut off by your own squeal when he grabs you and flips you back over onto your back. He keeps you quiet by smashing his lips against yours as your back thuds against the grass.

This kiss burns hotter than the last one. His mouth moves with bruising passion as he pulls your shorts down your legs for real. You help him by kicking them loose. His hands roam around over your smooth skin.

He glances down and finds what he thought he felt. No panties.

Eyes flitting back up to you, he shakes his head. "You were gonna give in anyways," he accuses.

"Yeah, but you gave in first," you giggle.

A small growl rumbles in his chest, but he still leans in to pull your tank top up. He brings it across your stomach, letting your breasts fall free as he bunches the material above them. He cups the plump flesh, taking a look at the beauty he holds in his palms. You watch him in the fleeting interval in which you're forced to separate.

"So... since I win, what do I get?" you continue to gloat.

"My dick inside you," he answers as his fingers yank his zipper open and shove down his pants in a similar fashion to your shorts.

"But I'm gonna get that anyways. I think I should get a real prize," you say, aiming to stoke the flames higher.

Your hips get hauled closer across the grass, so fast that you're in danger of having green smeared across your skin.

"I don't think you'll be complaining in a few minutes, ya little brat," he mumbles.

His fist pumps over his cock as he lines it up between your legs. The leaky tip smears some precum over your folds before he slides inside. He groans as he sinks in, cherishing the feeling after the week of its absence.

You're quick to adjust to the stretch. With a sharp breath, your back arches off the grass. He had already snapped back and slammed in again. You knew he wouldn't be patient after being deprived of this. Watching him above you, your eyes study how his chest puffs in and out with harsh breaths. His strong arms extend down on either side of your head, his fists holding clumps of grass between them. 

It's a gorgeous view, but you know it can't beat the feeling.

"Closer..." you whine and grab at his shoulders, pulling him down so he's right on you and smothering your body against the turf, "Missed you, old man."

"How many times have I told you to quit it with that?" he asks as his pelvis begins setting a rhythm.

"Enough to know that I'm never gonna," you say. It's the last thing you can get out before moans shatter your plans to speak.

His warm flesh pounds against yours over and over. Your body rocks with the bounce of him on top of you. It feels so good. The world feels bright again, like you'd transitioned from an existence of black and white to living in color. It was so open out here but also so empty. Like you and him were the only two people on earth.

Your voice tapers off. Words become second to whimpers of pleasure. His hands grope the swell of your ass before returning to your sides for steady leverage.

"We'll have to work on that then," he grunts, "If you're not gonna stop, I'll just have to make sure you can't speak at all."

You preen at the idea, clutching at his muscular shoulders and back. He pants right next to your ear. Each stroke drives deep into you, brushing a spot that had ached for him to touch it again.

"Never wanna go that long again," you babble around whines.

"Me neither, baby. Think you were right. Not being able to feel this pretty little pussy every day almost killed me," he says.

A rush of euphoria flows through you upon hearing that. Your moans become more breathy, more full of need for him. You grab one of his wrists and tug his hand off your hip, pushing it in between your legs.

He knows what you want. His fingers apply some pressure and rub at your swollen bundle of nerves. Immediately, he's rewarded with a whine out of you and a buck from your hips.

"Impatient," he huffs between a set of deep thrusts.

"I won," you retort, "I get to do what I want."

Even in the heat of the moment, he chuckles at your petulant tone. His hips keep rutting against you on the grass. He's sure his next task of yard-work will be covering the mysterious indents in the soil out here.

"I needa cum, Logan," you whine several seconds later, "So close."

"Yeah? You need it, sweetheart? Need to let it out after keeping it from me for so long?"

Your head bobs up and down in an enthusiastic nod. "Please, please, please."

"Well, it's like you said. You won. So I think you can finish when you're ready."

"Mmmm- o- ok..." you whimper out.

Your hips roll up and down to reciprocate the fast pace of his own. He's battering right up against that special spot inside you that makes your mind blank and your eyes gloss up.

With a handful of whimpers, you cum. Your face scrunches as your cunt tightens around him. His fingers keep up the same rhythm on your clit, swirling around the little bud through your pleasure high.

"That's my girl," he praises, "Let it all out for daddy."

Your body seizes up at that command. Every cell of your being somehow knows to obey. You stumble over words and let them leave your lips half formed.

He keeps driving into you as you're coming down, chasing his own release. You're well into the territory of overstimulation now, all parts of you fizzling like a lit sparkler.  Your thighs quiver against his sides violently. They lock around his waist when you finally feel him slam in and drain himself.

A loud groan erupts from him. He makes no effort to restrain it given that only the two of you are here to hear it. He fucks it into you, ricocheting himself against your center a couple more times and letting every last drop pour into your dripping hole.

When he feels sated, at least for the moment, he reluctantly pulls out. He takes a couple deep breaths as he watches a bit of his cum ooze out of you. It didn't matter though. That wouldn't be the last load you took today.

His body topples over next to yours on the natural ground. You both lie there for a few moments catching your breath before you roll onto your side to look at him.

You just stare for a few moments. Your eyes roam along the shape of his face to the slope of his jaw and the curve of his chest. Leaning in, you kiss the space below his ear.

He responds to the touch by curling his arm around your waist and pulling you to his side.

His head turns to meet your loving gaze.

"I think we have some more time to make up for," he says.

You respond with an eager nod and hop up to your feet. Both of you pull on the basics of the clothes you'd been wearing before and rush back into the mansion, giggling as you stumble through the halls like a couple of lovesick teenagers.

The door to your room stays shut for the rest of the day. You spend the remaining hours you have enmeshed in each other; intertwined with him enough to recover from the lack you'd put yourself through.

Logan doesn't venture beyond the barrier of your shared sanctuary until the sun has gone down and darkness coats the halls of the mansion.  He walks quietly, taking his steps carefully to ensure none of the wooden planks beneath him creak.

All he had to do was go downstairs and grab you some water. In and out. Five minutes. But as he rounds the turn into the room, Scott's already there, looking through the fridge. He freezes and stands there awkwardly in his black tank top and loose sweatpants.

Having heard the sounds of his footsteps, the other man glances over at him. 

"There you are. Didn't see you around when I got back," he says simply.

Logan shrugs, trying to play it casual. He walks across the room toward the cupboard that holds the glasses. The other man's eyes follow him. He can feel that even through the scarlet shades on his face.

"Haven't seen your other half either," Scott continues.

Logan can tell from the tone of his voice where this is going. 

"Don't call her that," he scoffs, forever downplaying his attachment to you, "She's tired. She's upstairs sleeping."

"On her day off? I wonder what would have her so drained," Scott replies. His tone is flat in contrast to the little smirk on his face.

"Don't start," Logan says. He goes to the fridge to fill your cup with water. The trickle of the fluid is the only sound in the room until Scott keeps going.

"I didn't say anything," he says, raising his hands in surrender, "Only that this is the best mood you've been in all week."

"A couple hours without you around does wonders for me," Logan grumbles, wishing the liquid would pour a little faster.

"I'm sure. A couple hours with no one else around. Just the two of you after you've both been stiff the whole week," he taunts, "It's ok to admit you're whipped."

Finally, the cup is full. Logan takes it and turns away, holding one finger up as he walks from the kitchen.

"See you tomorrow, Scott."

"Yeah. Tell her if she's feeling sore, she can skip the early meeting," he says with a little laugh.

[lovelivision]

───〃★ Telling your roommate Gojo that you had a date tonight seemed like a good idea, up until his face twisted into a very unhappy expression. His foot tapping impatiently against the floor as you get ready to go out, face sour as his eyes track your movements.

Turning to look at him, you snap, “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” He’s playing dumb.

“Like you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” the frown on his face only deepens.

You walk over to him, “I didn’t say you did; I said you’re looking at me like you do.”

He ignores your correction in favour of whining, “Do you have to go out?”

“No,” you squint pointedly at him, “I want to.”

“You like this person?”

Thinking on it for a moment before answering, “Not really but I like going out and feeling pretty.” Patting his shoulder, you add, “I shouldn’t be home late, we can hang out when I get back.”

Turning on your heel, you start towards the door only to be tugged back by Gojo’s hand on your wrist. Wordlessly, he pulls you into his chest and you stumble at the sudden change. When you look up at him, you go to complain about being stopped but he doesn’t give you the chance. Both his hands grab either side of your face, his lips crashing against yours in a heated kiss.

You’re stunned for a moment before you return his kiss, his lips are insistent and messy, barely giving you the chance to match him before he switches up on you. Pulling a gasp from you when he sucks on your lower lip, he’s making you feel tingly all over.

“Gojo, what–”

He’s cutting you off again, kiss deep as he licks into your mouth. One hand moving to grip your hip, pulling you in closer. Mindlessly, you wrap your arms around his neck, leaning up into him. You’re beginning to feel delirious, drunk on his full kisses. So sloppy and desperate in how he nips and licks at you, pulling quiet and pathetic whines from you.

Gojo doesn’t want to part from you, he wants to keep kissing you stupid, he wants to do so much more but he’s feeling mean. Parting from your lips with a wet pop, he delights in how ruined you look by his sweet kiss. String of saliva connecting your lips together that he licks away.

“You look pretty,” he smiles, “Have fun on your date.”

You blink slowly back at him; he knows damn well you can’t go on your date anymore. Not with kiss swollen lips and a head full of thoughts of him. It doesn’t dawn on you until he’s walking away cheerily that this was his intention all along.

[nataliedecorsair]

I wanted to give you some of Pticenoga's Borderlands AU backstory, how she was raised by Shade and before starting her shenanigans with Vaughn.

Plus a bonus comic about how she decided to set up a meeting for Vaughn and Shade, but didn't tell Vaughn who is supposed to be there x) Mostly because Vaughn has met Shade before in his macabre World of Curiosities museum and thought that Shade is too weird for him. Well, that's the kind of person that would raise a feral harpy siren, gotta deal with it!

When she was very young, nothing bothered her much as she was just a wild baby exploring the world x) And Shade was a good father figure to her. However, as she grew older, she realized that she doesn't really "fit in": yeah, Pandora is a crazy planet, but not every person there is crazy. There are plenty of "regular folk" like Shade or other people from their town - and many others. And she was frequently called a monster, a mutant and many other things by the regular kids and even adults. She was wild though, could bite them or fight with them in a pretty feral manner, and, even though she protected herself, it didn't help the situation much. She wasn't crazy enough (and too small) to fit in with the psychos or bandits, was "too human" for actual monsters living on Pandora, and for a long time she had no idea she was a Siren, as even for Sirens she looked too different. Only when she hit her teens, she was able to confirm that she is one, started using her powers, and in her human form she could see the full extension of the glowing pattern she had on her skin. She still, however, didn't know why she wasn't born "normal", and there were no older Sirens around.

At some point, she decided to become independent and live on her own. Her "wild" upbringing was helping that a lot, and she felt fine being away from people. She'd still visit Shade frequently, of course, and at some point she'd even met Zer0 and could hang out with him for some time. As Zer0 is a mystery himself, they had some common ground between them (though constantly listening to his haiku were exhausting xD). Sadly, Vault Hunters attract attention, not always positive, and that was the reason why she got spotted by a big bandit gang (could be the beginning of Vallory's gang, but before she took over). And local scientists like Tannis already declared that there may be some connection between Sirens and the Vaults. And they noticed that she's a Siren, but also pretty young (and dumb). After the first Vault on Pandora was opened, there was plenty of weird and valuable stuff around, but it wasn't so easy to get it when you're just regular bandits. And when Eridians, the aliens that are guarding the Vault, are everywhere. The Sirens like Lilith were too strong for them, and hiring a Vault Hunter is expensive, so they decided to wriggle into her favor and use her to gain access to the area. She didn't know she was dealing with bandits first, she naively thought it's a rare case of nice fellows just wanting to be friends and such, plus the Vault could have answers about her origin, and the new "friends" confirmed it.

At some point, she realized she was being used, and got into a fight with the bandits - and lost, as there were too many of them, and she had too little experience, and they knew about Shade. She got kidnapped and told that she'd do everything they told her to do, or they'd kill Shade, so she had to obey. She helped them to fight the way to the Vault and get some of the riches, and during the process she felt that she really does have a connection with Eridians - they boosted her powers and helped her to get free, and kill every presenting member of the gang. She was worried about Shade though, so she left immediately to find him before the remaining members found out what happened and could harm him. But she was too late - the water source in their town of Oasis was poisoned, and every single person there died. Except Shade though - he lasted longer, but dehydration made him insane, and he turned corpses into the stuffed dummies he could talk to (though she didn't have much of a problem with this part). As she was gone for at least several months, he didn't believe she's real, and she had to adapt to the new reality.

She never got back to the Vault after that as she felt it was a source of more trouble than anything good (in her view, the price was too much for a bunch of physical stuff).

That lasted for years, and became a bit easier as her powers, enhanced by the Eridians, wasn't only serving the destruction,  but could eventually "heal" some part of Shade's mind, so the moments of clarity became more frequent (she didn't know it's the reason, though). And you still need money, whether you like it or not, so, when Shade decided to use his World of Curiosities as a spot of illegal deals and smuggling, she didn't resist, but would watch over him in the shadows in case something goes wrong.

Eventually, she calmed down and just embraced herself. And, after some time, she met Vaughn, whose personal struggles she could sense right away, as she had to experience "being different" herself.

[solxamber]

Holding Them and Not Letting Go with: Housewardens + Jamil

a little something before i go all in for the milestone events <3

Other parts: Vice Housewardens + Rollo, Neige ; First Years

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle goes bright red the second you wrap your arms around him, stiffening in your hold like he’s forgotten how to breathe. He tries to splutter something coherent—maybe a reminder about PDA rules, maybe a request to know what’s going on—but his voice gets tangled up, and all that comes out is a confused murmur.

You don’t let go, though. Instead, you squeeze him a little tighter, prompting him to look down at you, his eyes widening with soft confusion. “Is… Is something wrong?” he stammers, gently pressing his hand to your shoulder, trying to read your face.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you answer with a warm smile. “I just love you, Riddle. That’s all.”

For a moment, he’s frozen. Just love him? He feels his heart stumble, so unfamiliar with this kind of simple, generous affection. In his childhood, hugs were formal gestures, love was measured and conditional—a reward to be earned, rarely felt freely. But here, with you… you’re holding him because you want to, with nothing expected in return.

Slowly, Riddle’s hands find their way to your back, and he pulls you close with a tenderness that surprises even him. There’s a quiet ache in his chest, an overwhelming mix of joy and disbelief, like he’s filling up with something he never knew he was missing. He clings to you, unable to speak, as though afraid that words might shatter the beautiful warmth settling between you.

You both stay like this, tangled together in silence. In this simple embrace, Riddle feels more seen, more loved, than he ever has before. It’s a feeling he wants to hold onto forever—a happiness he never thought he’d be allowed to have. For the first time, he feels completely at peace.

Leona Kingscholar

You wrap your arms around Leona, your grip firm as if you’ve decided you’re never letting go. At first, he’s as stoic as ever, arching an eyebrow in mild confusion. “Oi, herbivore…what’s this all about?” he mutters, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

But when you stay silent, he lets out a chuckle, amused by your stubborn clinginess. “If you’re hoping to trap me, you might wanna try harder than that.”

After a few more moments, his teasing fades. You’re still holding him, your head resting against his chest, heartbeat steady against his. He tries to check if youre upset and realizes then that you’re not sad, nor do you seem upset; you’re simply content. When he starts to pull back to look at you, you give him a warm smile and quietly say, “I just…love you.”

The words wash over him, soft and simple yet deeply affecting. His expression shifts, from nonchalance to something much more vulnerable. To Leona, who’s spent much of his life overshadowed, unwanted, and fighting for recognition, the idea of being someone’s first choice feels like an impossibility.

And yet, here you are, holding onto him like he’s the only thing that matters. He swallows hard, not saying anything, but the look in his eyes says it all.

He finally allows his arms to come around you, drawing you in with more intensity than he’d probably ever admit aloud. His tail snakes around your waist in a protective loop, pulling you even closer, as if anchoring himself to you. “Don’t go getting mushy on me,” he mutters, trying to sound unaffected, but his grip tightens just a bit more.

But despite his usual attitude, he’s never felt this…full. Full of pride, full of warmth, full of something he’s struggled to admit he even wanted. And it’s all because of you, the one person who looked past his rough edges and stubborn exterior.

He chuckles softly, burying his face in your shoulder, whispering, “Guess you got yourself a lion for life, herbivore.”

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul is hunched over his desk, papers and ledgers strewn around him, eyebrows furrowed as he works late into the night. He’s so engrossed that he doesn’t even notice you approaching until you gently climb onto his lap, resting yourself against him without a word. His body goes rigid in surprise, the usual control he wields over his composure completely shattered.

“Are you... feeling alright?” he asks, voice a little breathless, struggling to keep himself calm as you press your face into the crook of his neck. “Are you sick? Is there something wrong?”

You just shake your head, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “I just love you, Azul,” you whisper softly, a warmth in your gaze that sends his heart into overdrive. “And I’m so proud of you.”

With that, you wrap your arms around him again, holding him close, and suddenly, all the strength in him unravels. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed this—how much he craved reassurance, wanted to know he was worth it.

All his insecurities, fears, and memories of feeling out of place resurface, but they’re softened by your presence, and with just one hug, you’re able to ease away all that self-doubt he keeps buried.

Without another word, he wraps his arms tightly around you, his grip firm and filled with an unspoken desperation. He clings to you as though you’re his lifeline, as though you’re the single steady point in his otherwise frantic world, and for a few moments, he allows himself to just feel—to let go of the worries, to set aside the constant weight of expectations.

The mountain of paperwork on his desk feels meaningless compared to the comfort you bring, and all he wants is to stay like this, holding you as closely as he can, reveling in the feeling of being loved for who he is.

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim is in his element, animatedly discussing ideas for his next big celebration. His hands gesture widely, his voice bright, detailing elaborate plans for decorations, food, entertainment—he's clearly in his happy place, and you can’t help but feel utterly captivated by his joy.

Without even thinking, you throw your arms around him, hugging him tightly mid-sentence. Kalim laughs, hugging you back with his usual enthusiasm, though a bit of surprise colors his expression when you show no signs of letting go. “Hey, is everything okay?” he asks, a smile in his voice.

You lean back just enough to grin up at him, eyes shining. “I’m perfectly okay. You just looked so radiant talking about the party—and I love you.”

He stares at you for a beat, completely dazzled, and then his face breaks into the brightest smile as he spins you around, laughter bubbling from both of you. When he finally sets you down, he pulls you close, cradling you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

“I’m so glad you chose me,” he murmurs softly, his forehead pressing against yours. The simple joy radiates from him, a warmth and gentleness that wraps around you both. It’s a pure, unfiltered happiness that you feel too, knowing that you chose him, and he chose you.

You stay wrapped up in each other, reveling in that perfect moment, glowing with the warmth of shared love. For now, with his laughter filling the room and his arms securely around you, nothing else matters.

Jamil Viper

Jamil walks into his room, the exhaustion from managing Scarabia weighing heavily on his shoulders. But before he can even remove his shoes, you’re already there, waiting for him. Without a word, you step into his space, your arms winding around him in a gentle but firm embrace.

His body relaxes instantly, the stress of the day melting away as you run a soothing hand down his back. The warmth of your touch settles over him like a blanket, but after a few moments, he notices you haven’t let go. The silence stretches, and his concern grows.

He pulls back just slightly, searching your face with quiet intensity. “Are you okay?” His voice is soft, careful, as though bracing for something serious.

You meet his eyes with a smile, your voice tender but full of affection. “I’m fine. I just… I love you. I’m proud of everything you do. You work so hard, and I see all of it. I just wanted to be here, with you.”

A deep warmth spreads through Jamil at your words, the weight of the day almost forgotten as he pulls you back into him. This time, his hold is even tighter, more possessive, as if he’s afraid that if he lets go, this moment will vanish. His face buries itself into your neck, and he inhales deeply, breathing in the scent of you—your presence, your comfort.

For once, he allows himself to fully sink into the embrace, no longer needing to wear his usual mask.

With you, he doesn’t have to hold back his feelings. For the first time in what feels like forever, he lets his guard drop, the emotional wall he’s spent building his whole life crumbling in the warmth of your arms.

“I could stay like this forever,” he whispers, the words barely audible as he holds you close. His voice is thick with emotion, a mixture of tenderness and longing. “I never want to leave your side.”

In the comfort of your touch, Jamil realizes something. He’s never felt more at peace, more cared for, than he does in this moment. He holds you tighter, savoring the feeling of being loved so deeply, so completely. No matter what happens, he knows this is where he belongs—in your arms, and with your heart.

Vil Schoenheit

It’s been a long day, and by the time you reach Vil, all you want is to collapse into his arms. But before you can even speak, he’s already analyzing you, frowning at your slumped posture, the bags under your eyes, and the way you haven’t had time to take care of yourself. "Did you eat today? Are you even sleeping? Honestly, I can't—"

And before he can finish his lecture, you launch yourself at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck.

He catches you with his usual elegance, barely flinching. His lips curl in that slight, amused way, but the concern in his eyes softens as you cling to him, not letting go.

"Darling, What's wrong?" he asks, his voice taking on a gentler tone as he instinctively pulls you closer. You can feel the smoothness of his coat beneath your fingers as you bury your face in his chest.

"I missed you," you murmur. "I'm just happy to see you. I love you. And I love that you worry about me."

Vil’s chest tightens at your words, a soft, almost imperceptible sigh escaping him. He gently strokes your back, the movement slow, deliberate. “You’re something else,” he teases, his lips twitching, but there’s warmth in his voice. “You know you should’ve eaten something, and yet here you are, throwing yourself at me.”

His hands remain on you, though, pulling you closer, stroking your back with a tenderness he rarely shows in public. He may pretend to be exasperated, but the way his fingers gently brush the length of your spine betrays his true feelings. Deep down, he’s touched by how much you put up with him.

"You should be scolded for your own good," he starts, but it’s a half-hearted attempt. There’s no real bite to his words this time. Instead, he just holds you tighter, deciding that, just for tonight, you don’t need any more lectures.

“You’ll never be rid of me now,” he murmurs softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “And you’re welcome to lean on me, always.”

In the comfort of his embrace, you let go of the day’s stress, finding peace in the warmth of his arms. There’s no need for anything else, just this moment, just him.

Idia Shroud

Idia’s explaining the intricate details of a new strategy, his eyes wide with excitement. But then, suddenly, you set your controller down and throw yourself at him in an unexpected hug, effectively cutting off his speech. His hair flares a brilliant shade of pink as his brain momentarily glitches, clearly unsure of how to process what's happening.

And he is in full panic mode. His mind, always working a mile a minute, goes into overdrive trying to figure out what he did wrong, or if he's somehow messed things up.

“Uh—are you okay?” he stammers, voice filled with concern but entirely thrown off by the situation. You don’t answer with words, just a soft smile as you bury your face in his chest.

“I love you,” you whisper, “and you’re adorable.”

He’s used to being alone, to being misunderstood, to retreating into his games and hiding from the world. But here you are, in his arms, embracing him for no reason other than that you love him.

Despite his anxious thoughts swirling, he awkwardly places his arms around you, his body stiff at first, unsure of what to do. It takes him a moment before he relaxes, and as he holds you, his mind starts to clear. All those fears—of not being enough, or of being too much—slowly fade away, replaced by something that feels warm and real.

You, who listen to him ramble about things no one else would care about. You, who understand when he’s not up for going out, who accept him as he is. He feels so undeserving of someone so kind, but at the same time, something deep inside him stirs. It’s happiness. It’s love.

His arms tighten around you as he buries his face into your hair, his heart racing with a mixture of overwhelming joy and disbelief. He’ll never understand why someone like you would choose him, but as long as you’re here, he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus stands before you, holding the gargoyle he crafted with such care, the stone masterpiece shimmering in the soft light. "This is for you," he says softly, his voice full of pride. His eyes shine with the unspoken hope that you’ll appreciate the effort.

Before he can say anything else, you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a warm embrace. He freezes for a moment, unsure, before his own arms encircle you with surprising gentleness. He’s always craved touch, but the depth of affection you offer fills him with awe.

The two of you stand there, the moment stretching on in comfortable silence, until Malleus pulls back slightly, his eyes searching your face. "Are you alright?" His voice holds a hint of concern.

You smile at him softly, your words simple but filled with a warmth he rarely hears: "You mean the world to me. I love you."

Malleus's breath catches in his throat, and before he can think, his arms tighten around you. He pulls you impossibly closer, as if afraid you’ll slip away. His heart races as he feels the weight of your love, the pure acceptance and tenderness you give him. The loneliness he’s lived with for so long, the misunderstandings, the isolation—none of it matters now.

He’s here with you. You see him, not as a prince or a fae of great power, but simply as Malleus. And that, more than anything, fills him with a kind of peace he’s never known.

Malleus buries his face in the crook of your neck, holding you tightly as if to make sure this moment doesn’t slip away. "I will never forget this," he murmurs softly. "I will cherish you... forever."

In your embrace, he finds something he thought was impossible—a sense of belonging. He smiles, feeling the warmth of your love seep into him, and he knows he is truly loved.

Masterlist

[yzzart]

౨ৎ⊹. BOYFRIEND!KENJI HEADCANONS!

── content warnings: F!reader, mention of Emiko, Emi and Mina, Ultraman form, Kenji being a little needy (once again), fluff, a little something to warm our hearts and minds so dreamy.

── word count: 683!

⭑.ᐟ Underneath, and sometimes over, tight-fitting t-shirts and extremely expensive fabrics, wear a necklace; however, there is something special there. — His promise ring hangs on the gold chain; like a talisman, something that surrounds he with luck and passion. — Staying attached and close to you, even with a small object.

⤷ If he needs to think or try to decide something dramatically important and you're not around, Sato will take his fingers to the necklace and hold the ring; looking for guidance. — Oh, and waking up, before him, and contemplating that shiny and significant piece, which rests on his broad chest, is angelic.

⭑.ᐟ It's not uncommon to feel, in the middle of the night, Kenji's face trying, persistently, on your neck; readily, wanting to harness the huge and strong body between your. — He doesn't care about the grotesque difference in size, just at that moment, and he doesn't give up.

“Kenji, be careful…!” — Your voice, fully, drunk with sleep and maintaining stillness, murmured between the boy's black and shiny locks; who only responded with a snore, more like a purr and clinging even tighter to you.

⭑.ᐟ Sato can't keep his hands off you, no matter what's going on, what you're doing or what simple task you're performing; hands on your waist, kisses on every exposed and revealed part of your body, thin and wide fingers catching on some part of your clothes. — Don't be upset with him, this poor man is in love with you.

⤷ One day, Mina compared him to a sloth and obviously got a frown of disapproval and the adorable Emi observes how her “father” remains so attached to her “mother”. — Even laughing and grunting when he saw a completely sleepy and desperate Ken crawling towards you.

⭑.ᐟ Please, we have, we need to talk about all the times Kenji and Emi train together, most of the time, being just leisure moments, you sit in the stands, virtually, scheduled and cheer for them; accompanied by Mina. — The feeling of nostalgia, remembering an incredible part of his life, is exposed in Ken's chest; remembering his mother.

⭑.ᐟ I can easily imagine Ken pressing his nose against your cheek or neck wanting your attention; also, when he wants to show you the way Emi is sleeping, enjoying the baby's sweetness. — And, together, pressing his forehead against yours during countless moments of the day and night, when you get home after confronting some creature and every time he want to say "i love you" to you.

⭑.ᐟ This man knows you like the back of his hand; no one can disagree or dispute this fact. — Kenji pays attention to your gestures, noticing your body language and, for a matter of seconds, he knows that something is bothering you; and, there he is, dedicating himself, with all his attention, to doing his girl well.

⭑.ᐟ Funny situations, for Ken, between you and his Ultraman form are included in your lives. — Once, while chasing Aboras, he ended up finding you on the street, wanting to go home, and clearly he was distracted by wanting to cause a provocation. — Mina gave the boy a long, and rightly so, scolding.

“Go back to the house, young lady.” — The robotic voice filled a part of the city's environment, wanting to convey an authoritarian image. — “You know…” — He pointed one of his gigantic fingers in your direction, then towards the place he was. — “The streets have been very dangerous lately.” — Oh, you stopped yourself from answering him like you really wanted to.

“Thank you, so much, for the advice, Ultraman.”

⭑.ᐟ There are nights — many, many nights — that Ken spends watching, contemplating you sleeping, peacefully; your face remained full, without signs of tiredness, exquisite and messy locks spread out, this was adored by the player's eyes. — Between seconds of fascination, Kenji longed, dreamed, deeply and painfully, of his mother meeting you; this way, she would have the chance to know the light that raised her dear son.

⤷ Kenji prospers, sometimes praying, that one day his mother will return, safe and sound, and be able to achieve what he wants so much in his life.

[nikkento-writes]

Babysitter - Part 1

Pairing: dad!Toji x babysitter!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~1.7k

cw: age gap (reader is 21, Toji is in his 30s), language, cheating, smut – PIV sex (doggy style), breeding kink, daddy kink

Summary: You're hired to babysit little Megumi for the summer, but you end up taking care of his father, Toji, as well.

Author’s Notes: This is repost from my old blog! I initially got this as a request and it became my first Toji fic ever, and certainly not my last lol. I'm posting this again because I actually wrote a Part 2, check it out! Thanks for reading! Divider credit to @/fic-dumpster.

You stand in front of a quaint house, checking your watch for the time. It’s been almost ten minutes now since you knocked, no answer. You gave the number from the listing a call, still nothing. Rolling your eyes, you take a seat on the steps leading to the door, waiting.

It’s the summer before you head back to university for your senior year. In an attempt to make some extra cash, you took a job as a babysitter through local ads in the paper. The first two clients were completely normal; this one is already leaving a bad taste in your mouth. 

Fifteen minutes have passed. You try once more, pounding on the door with your fist as loud as you can. Heel turned, ready to leave, it suddenly swings open, revealing a muscular man with black hair, glaring at you. “What the fuck do you want?” 

You step back, startled by his intimidating presence. Stuttering, you answer, “I’m the babysitter.”

He continues to stare at you, eyes following your body up and down, studying it. “Babysitter?”

Before you can explain any further, you hear a car rolling into the driveway. A woman in professional attire steps out quickly. “I’m so sorry I’m late!” She rushes towards you, holding her hand out to shake yours. “We spoke on the phone. I got stuck in traffic, I’m so sorry.”

You smile at her. “It’s okay.”

She faces the man, expression switching from cheery to dreary in an instant. “Toji, where is Megumi?”

He scratches his head. “Huh?”

“Megumi. Our child.”

He sighs. “Right. Uh, I’ll go get him.” 

While he’s gone, the woman pulls you aside, speaking in a hushed voice. “That’s Toji, my husband and Megumi’s father. Unfortunately, he’s a complete deadbeat. That’s why I want to hire you. I started my new job and I need someone to take care of Megumi while I’m gone during the day.”

She swallows hard, blinking to fight off oncoming tears. “I have no one. I’ve been shunned by my family, my husband doesn’t give a shit about ours, and I’m all alone trying to give Megumi a good life. I know this is a lot to ask, but I’m desperate. This is just until I can save enough money to hire a full-time nanny.”

She grips onto your wrist with both her hands, begging for help. Truthfully, it’s a lot to unravel, more drama than you anticipated. But the anguish in her eyes tugs at your heartstrings. Plus, knowing it’s temporary doesn’t make it seem so difficult. How bad can it be? “Okay. I’ll do it.”

Relief washes over her. “Oh thank god. Thank you. Thank you. Let’s go inside and I can give you a tour.” She leads you through the entrance, removing her shoes as you follow her. “Oh, and one more thing.”

“Sure.”

“Toji is home most of the day, but he’s always couped up in his room, doing god knows what. Just leave a meal or two outside his door twice a day. That should be enough.”

“Huh?!” 

She glances at you with a nervous smile on her face. “Yeah. I told you, he’s good for nothing.”

You don’t respond while you maneuver through the house, barely paying attention while she shows you around. It almost sounds like you’ll be babysitting two children…

~~~

The first two weeks of your new job go by smoothly. Megumi is an adorable baby; he’s almost two-years-old with hair as black as his father’s. While he never really smiles, he doesn’t cry either, expression usually stern, unless he needs a diaper change. He’s self-sufficient, always immersed by his own toys until it’s time to eat. Overall, he’s easy. 

Toji, on the other hand, is another story. 

You follow his wife’s instructions, leaving two meals outside his door, breakfast and lunch. And this asshole has the audacity to critique it! The bread wasn’t toasted enough. The eggs were too runny. There wasn’t enough seasoning on the meat. All this criticism while each plate is licked clean, not a crumb to spot. He’s never even uttered a simple thank you. 

But what he lacks in social skills or personality, he makes up for in his physique. In between meals, he works out in the living room lifting weights, doing push-ups, sit-ups, and pull-ups at the frame of the door. It lasts for over an hour, and by the end of it, he’s shirtless, dripping with sweat. You’ve done everything in your power to avoid staring but it doesn’t prevent your mind from conjuring all types of lewd thoughts about him. You’re ashamed to admit that he is physically attractive, only because everything else about him is utter trash. Still, it doesn’t hurt to look, right?

On the third week, there’s a shift in energy between you two. When he isn’t working out or going out to meet with his sketchy friends, he’s usually couped up in his bedroom, ignoring you and Megumi. This morning, he actually joins you in the kitchen. You stare blankly at him, stunned by his sudden appearance. Megumi is unfazed by his father as he tries to pull your wrist towards him to get a spoonful of mushed up peas. 

When he catches you, Toji glares. “What?”

“Um, nothing. Just surprised to see you here.” You clear your throat, focusing back on the baby. 

He rolls his eyes. “This is my house. I can do whatever I want.”

“Yes, of course. Sir.”

For some reason, this triggers him. He stands up abruptly, stepping to you, leaning his face towards yours. The scar on the corner of his lip twitches when he gives you a wicked grin. “That’s right. I’m in charge here.”

You flinch from him, scared, maybe even slightly aroused. He’s intense, that’s for sure. But part of you finds it exhilarating to be in his presence. 

Megumi whines for more food, to which Toji grabs the utensil from your hands to start feeding him. “Damn kid, he’s hungry all the fucking time.”

You sit up in your seat, regaining your composure. “You shouldn’t curse in front of children.”

He faces you, chuckling. “Curse? Seriously? What are you, five?”

You cross your arms, answering, “I’m twenty-one.”

“Interesting.” There’s that naughty smirk again, as if he’s thinking something obscene in that twisted head of his. And while you should be turned off, you’re not. You squeeze your legs together, pussy throbbing between your thighs. And of course, he notices this. He must, because he leans forward, lips grazing your ear, whispering, “Come by my room whenever Megumi is taking his nap. That’s an order.”

~~~

This is bad. Very, very bad. 

You're supposed to be better than this. Clearly, you aren’t, because you’re currently getting railed by your employer’s husband while his child sleeps peacefully in the next room.

“Fuck, this pussy is tight,” he groans, pumping his thick cock in and out of you. You’re bent over the edge of the bed, his hips smacking against your ass as he thrusts into you. He’s got a tight grip on your hips, nails digging into your flesh, pounding away at your greedy pussy, absolutely drenched with arousal and lube. Your face is sticky with perspiration, pillow soaked with sweat and drool. It’s a fucking mess, but it doesn’t matter, because all you can think about is Toji fucking you until you’re seeing stars. Until your head is empty and nothing but his fat cock is occupying your thoughts.

“God, you’re squeezing me so fucking hard, princess. You gonna come again?”

You nod erratically, reaching your fingers to your clit. He smacks it away, doing it himself, his thumb flicking against your swollen bud. “Fucking come on my cock then. Make it nice and creamy for me, got it?”

His cock is buried deep inside you, hitting your sweet spot over and over until you unravel, gushing around him once more. You’ve lost count on how many orgasms you’ve had in this short amount of time. 

After your climax, he doesn’t pull out, fucking you even rougher. Your body is pliant around him, yielding to his every touch like putty. You’ve lost control of yourself, completely enraptured in the intense pleasure he surrounds you with. 

He leans forward, chest pressed to your back, lips brushed to your ear. “I’m gonna knock you up. Give Megumi a little brother or sister. Would you like that?” He’s crazy. Completely unhinged. Absolutely fucking psycho. 

“Fuck yes, I want that,” you moan. “Give it to me, daddy. Breed me.” 

And apparently, so are you. 

“Oh fuck yeah, take my fucking cum then,” he growls. The bed creaks violently below you, his backshots brutal and frantic now, cock desperate for release. “I’m gonna get you fucking pregnant. Make you mine.”

He shoots his hot load inside you, stuffing you full of his cum. He doesn’t stop until he’s fucked it deeper into your pussy, watching with that sexy look on his face as his creamy cum leaks out of your slit.

Lifting you up to lay comfortably on the bed, he rolls beside you, kissing you sloppily until Megumi’s whimpers blare through the baby monitor, indicating that he’s awake. Toji laughs, smacking your ass as you crawl over him to return to your real job. 

~~~

You spend the remainder of your summer employed at the Fushiguro household until you have to go back to school. You and Toji continue to fuck each other silly every day that you’re working. 

The day before you leave for college, you say your goodbyes to the family. Megumi’s mom, who remains blissfully unaware of your sins, hugs you tightly. “Thank you so much for all your help. I’ve finally saved enough money to afford a full-time nanny, so we’ll be fine.” 

“It was my pleasure. I had a lot of fun. With Megumi,” you clarify, avoiding Toji’s gaze as he watches from the kitchen. 

“Seriously. You’re a good person. I hope you know that.” She smiles, truly grateful. “And thank you for taking care of my good for nothing husband too.”

As the guilt of this dirty, filthy secret eats away at you, Toji stares at you from across the room, smirking.