#I like to drink my little drinks :( but no drink today :(

[ventismacchiato]

OIKAWA AS YOUR MUTUAL THAT YOU HATE IRL

oikawa x gender neutral reader

you and toru have been mutuals on twitter for almost a year as you both run and met through twice fan accounts. you talk to him more than your irl friends atp. on the other hand you and oikawa don’t get along irl, as you’re both on opposing college teams and constantly competing for nationals. since then he’s always picked on you at games, but that all changes when you finally decide to meet your favorite oomf in person.

notes — karasuno is a mixed gender team in this to keep it gn, and instead of highschool these are college teams / the messages in the first section are like throughout the week before you two meet up

ooc idk? it’s been a while. assume everyone is 20ish, i cud make this a cute mini au one day but rn i’m lazy so this is fast paced

also here’s the soobin version i wrote a while ago

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Your stomach was swarming with nerves as you made your way inside the cafe, the scent of freshly made coffee and sweaty college students from the stadium surrounding you as you slid into line. Admittedly, you never thought you'd get the chance to meet Toru, he was just your cute internet friend and nothing would ever happen.

That was, until today.

It was a bit embarrassing that you stared at the selfie he'd sent for longer than you should've. It was difficult to comprehend the boy you'd been talking to for so long was hiding such a pretty figure. Even with the emoji hiding his face you could tell he was cute.

You eye the display of cakes and decide to pick one up for the both of you as Toru had already promised to get you guys coffee. You felt bad going empty handed after finally meeting him.

You reach down to grab onto the last chocolate slice and your hands meet another. Usually, you'd let it slide and choose something else even though you touched it first. But, when you looked to your left and locked eyes with your self-proclaimed enemy, Toru Oikawa, those thoughts washed away. You were going to fight for that slice of mediocre cake.

"Not you again," Oikawa sighed, tugging the slice towards him, "Don't be obnoxious."

"Says you," you scoff, tightly grabbing onto the plate, "Why are you always so rude towards me? Is it because we annihilated you in the game?”

"You were just lucky," He grins, his large hands tugging the cake closer towards him, "Choose something else.”

"You choose something else. Losers don’t deserve nice cake! I got to it first!”

"Ok and?" Oikawa questions, like the little shit he is.

"Fine, just take it," you sigh, not wanting to make Toru wait. Good Toru, not this evil one beside you. But as you let go of the cake and step back you notice Oikawa’s outfit. He was adorned in clothes that oddly resembled the photo Toru had sent you.

"You made me lose my appetite," Oikawa mutters, dropping the cake and shuffling past you. You shake off the familiarity and make your way towards the back. Most men wore the same clothes, it was nothing.

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You eye the walls of the cafe until you come across the wooden tables from the photo.

You start scouring the seats for someone that resembled Toru but the only person in your vicinity was Oikawa.

You inch your way closer towards him with morbid curiosity, hoping that your suspicions would be proved wrong. But as you got closer the drinks on the table and location of your rival were too similar to the photo Toru had sent you.

Unfortunately, Oikawa locked eyes with you.

"What do you want? Are you here to apologize?" he questions, playing with the straw of his drink as he barely gave you a glance.

"Toru? From twitter?" you tentatively ask, your voice hoarse from the nerves. This couldn't be happening.

Oikawa pauses.

"What?" he slowly asks, turning to look at you, "What did you call me?"

"Oh my god," you gasp, "Are you ruluvyeon?"

"What..," he starts, catching on, "You're urmomoyn?"

Your username sounds foreign on his tongue but it was him. Oikawa was your Toru. Evil Toru was your sweet Toru.

Your beloved Toru was the same guy you've been on bad terms with all year. Just your luck.

Before Oikawa could comprehend anything or you could answer, you decide to do the most mature thing anyone would do in that situation.

You run.

And he doesn't follow.

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a week later

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

The street was dark apart from the flickering lamps on the side of the walkway as you made your way towards Oikawa - or well Toru’s - house. It still felt odd.

Your palms felt clammy and you were clad in your pajamas, in too much of a rush to change. Which was a decision you were regretting since the flimsy fabric did nothing to protect you against the wind.

Before you knew it you spotted the complex Toru supposedly lived in, and as you walked closer you could see his tall figure waiting for you in the dark. It would've been rather creepy if not for the fact he was drowning in a large hoodie and sweats with a beanie tugged on his hair.

His arms were crossed across his chest as he rocked back and forth due to the cold.

You swallowed your nerves and made your way towards him, not quite knowing what to do with your hands other than give him an awkward wave as he spotted you.

"Hey," he breathed out, gesturing for you to follow him inside.

The warmth of his apartment was far more welcoming than the freezing night. He shut the door behind you both and tugged off his beanie as he gestured for you to sit down.

"Hi," you greeted back as you sank down on his couch. The entire place felt very lived in.

Toru’s face scrunched up into an sly smile.

"I missed you," you added, "I'm glad you reached out."

"I am too," he hummed, reaching out to take his hand into yours. His palms felt warm against your own freezing ones.

"What was your last text about?" you question as his thumb rubs circles on your palm.

"I don't know what you’re talking about?" he smiles, "What did I say?"

"You know damn well what you said," you huff.

"Okay, well I meant it," he answers, "I convinced myself to try and forget you since you were an online friend. But having you right in front of me changed things."

"Changed things how?" you say, warmth creeping up your cheeks.

"Well, for one I can actually see you," Oikawa notes, "And do things like this," he adds, his voice going quiet as he reaches over to push a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "And, instead of fantasizing about kissing you, I could actually do it."

"You fantasized about it?" you ask in disbelief, still flustered at the touch of his hand so close to your face "You didn't even know what I looked like!"

"You were kinda just a blob in my mind," he shrugs, a smile tilting his lips at your offended face.

"A cute blob though, right?”

"Of course."

“You never imagined me as my icon?”

“Only when you changed it to Gojo.”

“Oh fuck off,” you laugh.

"So, you really don't hate me?" you muse, playing with his fingers, "It's so weird seeing you be so gentle."

"Would you rather me go back to being rude?" he replies, "But I really don't. I feel a shitty at how I used to treat you. You just get me riled up.”

"It's okay, I did the same," you assure, patting his hand, "Let's start fresh."

"Okay," he agrees, clasping your hand in between his, "Let's go out."

"Straight to the point?"

"I don't think we should waste any more time," he replies, “And my entire team thinks I made you up.”

“I need to make it up to you,” you sigh.

"Kiss me and consider yourself forgiven," Oikawa easily grins, looking at you with the usual look of arrogance he sends you through the net when he wishes you a terrible game. But this time it looks different. Like he wants you to win.

“Alright,” you manage to croak out, your throat closing up at your false confidence.

Honestly, you were qute irritated with yourself on how you treated Oikawa for the past few months. You desperately wanted to move on and start fresh.

Oikawa let out a surprised laugh and you wanted to ingrain the sound into your mind. He brought up his free palm to his mouth and let out a small giggle into it.

“Go ahead then,” he smiles.

"Okay," you manage to say, taking a deep breath.

"Any day now,” Oikawa smirks.

"Shut up, I need a moment-," you started, but were interrupted as he reached over and yanked on your top to slot his lips against yours. He stumbled and you both fell backwards onto the couch as he caught himself above you, both knees outside your hips as you snaked your hands around his waist.

He stared at your for a mere moment in disbelief before leaning down to capture your lips with his. His lips felt pillowy against your own and his warm body right on top of yours made it feel just as good.

You had to remind yourself not to laugh into the kiss.

[angelltheninth]

Arcane Characters That Are Big of Heart and Dumb of Ass

Pairing: Vi, Sevika, Vander, Jayce, Loris, Ambessa x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, dating, flirting, cuddles, kissing, sparing, muscles, protectiveness

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters

A/N: This came to me today during my work break. I love himbos and whatever the female version of it is!

PURE OF HEART: She will do anything, put herself in any kind of danger to protect you. Vi is ready to get into a fight with anyone, stand up to anyone if they're bothering you. The bruises might be there after but she knows you'll help her get patched up. Depending on where the bruises are she might get some kisses.

DUMB OF ASS: Charges head first into any situation and that more often than not gets her hurt. One would think she learned to use hear head a bit more by now. And just in terms of headbutting her opponent. However she defends her attitude by saying that she's the muscle here, so you should let her take care of things her way.

PURE OF HEART: First of all she doesn't want anyone knowing she has a soft spot for you. She is very aggressive in her flirting both in public and in private but when you're up close, in her lap she will whisper sweet nothings into your ear. After which she will bite it. Don't blame her, she has an image to uphold.

DUMB OF ASS: Sevika has always been a badass in Zaun, but not for her brains. As respected as she is some also see her as a glorified bodyguard that's now dating her boss's cute secretary. She hears these rumors of course but they don't phase her when she's had a few shots of her favorite drink. Not her best moment.

PURE OF HEART: He is a family man to the bone. And he sees you as his wife even though you're not officially married yet. It won't stop him from grabbing you around the hips and pulling you into a kiss, his tongue tasting of tabaco and your favorite drink. Yes, your favorite, because he wants to taste good when he kisses you.

DUMB OF ASS: While Vander might be one of the de facto leaders in Zaun he's made his fair share of dumb choices. He's forgotten to lock up more than once, leading to the people thinking the bar open and he walked out in his underwear. What made it more embarrassing is that you were right behind him, wearing just his shirt.

PURE OF HEART: Everyone who met Jayce even once can see that he has a heart of gold. There isn't a challenge he won't try to take out, be it with brains or brawn. Knowing he's smart hasn't stopped you from visiting him a few times in the forge and appreciating the way the sweat rolls down his muscled body. He even flexes for you.

DUMB OF ASS: The amount of times he accidentally burned himself because he was too busy making out with you is astounding. He picks you up easily enough. But then backs up a bit too much, touching or stepping too close to the heat of the forge. Either that or he knocks important tools down when he places you on his table.

PURE OF HEART: No one's got your back like Loris has your back. He's is one of the most supportive boyfriends you could ask for, husband material really. Whenever he notices you're having a bad day he will beckon you over and scoop you into his big arms. You're not getting away from him or his cuddles until you feel better.

DUMB OF ASS: Among the Enforcers he has always been known as the muscle, and as more than a bit of drinker. But he also tells the best stories. He can be a little crude sometimes, flirting with you and forgetting there are other people in the room. The next morning everyone is smirking at him and he has no idea why.

PURE OF HEART: Ambessa will crush anyone who has anything bad to say about her, her family, or anyone in her army. Her strength is in her physique, strategy and loyalty of her people. But on occasion she can show her softer side, when it's just the two of you. It's one of her weaknesses, that cute smile of yours that she would do anything for.

DUMB OF ASS: One of her favorite ways to flirt, and have foreplay, is to spar with you. However that tends to attract more than a few eyes. She always acts insanely possessive over you in those moments, her head still in the fight but also getting in between you and her soldiers. it ends up looking a bit like a dance, much to everyone's amusement.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Leaving VIII

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: You win Olympic gold

Alexia will be the first to admit that she doesn't understand tennis.

She gets it from an objective stand point like how she gets football. Two teams (two opponents) meet on the pitch (the court) and kick the ball around (hit the ball over the net) to score a goal (get a point).

The scoring for tennis confuses her as does the terminology.

She doesn't get the words they use like ace and deuce and double fault.

She kind of thinks a double fault is like a foul but she still can't understand how because you're not tackling anyone.

Either way, Alexia doesn't understand tennis but this is a final and even though she's got her own quarter final today, she's still travelled to Paris to watch you.

You're against Zheng.

She knocked out Iga but now she's against you.

You've played her once before in at the United Cup and she'd knocked you out as well.

This was revenge though.

You serve hard and fast or, at least Alexia presumes you do.

You're wearing your Barcelona cap and your gold Nike shoes and you look like an absolutely beast on the pitch (the court). You hit the ball viciously, catching Zheng off guard completely with the force of your shots.

"Has she got somewhere to be today?" Eli says, a little laugh escaping her as you breeze through the first set.

Alexia frowns. "No? I don't think so. I think her only plans are to go back to bed."

Alba laughs. "It was a joke, Ale. Mama thinks Y/n has somewhere else to be which is why she's getting through the set so fast."

"Wait, is she going too quickly?"

Alba sighs. "You've been to countless tennis matches, Alexia. How do you not understand it yet?"

"They're complicated!"

"She literally hits the ball over the net!"

You seem anxious to get the match started up again, wiping off what little sweat you've produced and drinking half of your water. You don't even reach for your energy gel or anything of the like.

You're up on the court as soon as you can be, bouncing around on your feet, kicking up some of the clay dust underfoot.

Zheng serves next but that's all she really ends up doing because, yet again, you dominate.

Alexia can feel the atmosphere swell from the audience and gets the funny feeling that she's missing something again.

Her head ping pongs around trying to keep the ball in sight.

There's an uproar in the crowd as Zheng swings.

And misses.

Alba's on her feet, fist pumped up in the air and a cry of triumph out of her mouth.

Eli's got her hands covering her mouth in shock.

Just lower down, Alexia can see your training partner and coaching team celebrating.

You're grinning. You kiss your racket before turning to face your family.

You bow, the exact same pose and the exact same way Alexia did at Camp Nou and at the Champion's League final.

You come up, grinning before bursting into tears.

You move to your coaching team first, being drawn into a hug by everyone including Iga.

"Should I start getting worried about my space as number one?" She teases but all you can do is let out a wet little laugh.

You make your way up to your family next.

Alexia gets to you first.

She may not understand tennis but she knows a winner when she sees one.

She gets to you before anyone else, tugging you into a hug.

You've always been smaller than Alexia. That was to be expected but you'd shot up around puberty, growing like a weed.

She's glad that you're still smaller than her though, still small enough the she can easily hold your face in her hands and kiss your forehead.

You smile at her, sniffling.

"I won."

"Yes."

Your smile widens. "You didn't even realise."

"What?! Yes I did!"

"Don't lie. I saw you. You thought we were meant to go for another set."

"What's a set?"

Laughter overtakes your tears, bubbling out of your throat at the clueless look on your sister's face.

"No, seriously, what's a set? Is it like the two different halves?"

"Don't worry about it, Ale."

"No, wait, I want to know! Did you already have halftime? The match went kind of quick. Surely you should have had halftime before it finished?"

You're properly laughing now and behind Alexia, you think Alba and Eli are laughing too.

"Does it really matter?" You tease," I just won Olympic gold."

"No, I guess not."

There's silence between the two of you for a moment before you shriek.

Alexia lifts you like you weigh nothing, like you're just that little kid again with a scraped knee and pigtails.

Like you're not the Olympic tennis champion.

[papaya-twinks]

a kids’ fairytale - l.n - p.2

Warnings: single!father, single!mother, swearing, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of sex, anxiety, picking nails/skin

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

Summary: Having a child so young hadn’t exactly been Lando’s idea of a fairytale, but what happened next, well, more suited to his kind of story ✨

other parts

Why? 

Why, why, why had Lando given you the wrong name? 

He could have just told you who he was, dealt with the “oh my god, you’re Lando Norris?!” for a bit, and then maybe had a friendship. 

But no, he’d lied. And now here he was, staring at your message, dread lining his sculpted features. 

“Heyy! You can bring Honey round ours today, we should make it a weekend thing! As soon as your renovations are finished, we’ll switch it up x”

God, what was he supposed to do on race weekends? 

And even more so, the occasional times when the camera would pan to his daughter, how could he possibly even fathom trying to explain that. 

What if you hated him and made Alec stop being friends with Honey - the amount she’d gone on about him clearly showed she’d be distraught if that would happen. 

Was he overthinking this? Probably. Was he panicking? Absolutely. 

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“Daddy,” Honey said, sitting on the bed beside Lando as he braided her hair, carefully intertwining her brunette curls. 

She had insisted on matching with Lando, both of them in black joggers and a black hoodie, along with some white trainers. 

“Honey,” Lando said, pushing his stresses to the back of his mind.

“I’m gonna take some of my toys,” she said, as Lando nodded absentmindedly. He wasn’t really listening, nor paying attention as she stuffed toys into her bag - one of them being her little McLaren car.

“C’mon, Y/N said 11, we have to leave now,” Lando said, tying her laces and leading her out the door. 

“Who’s Y/N?” Honey said, letting Lando take her rucksack. 

“Alec’s mum,” Lando said, shoving his phone into the back of his pocket and walking beside his daughter. 

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You had a humble home. Not big, nor small, not fancy, nor plain. Comfy and cozy. 

Yet, still a big contrast to his place, big and fancy and typical of a multi-millionaire. Sometimes, he definitely regretted choosing this life style. 

“Hi,” you smiled, opening the door and giving Honey a wave. 

“Hey,” Lando said, clearing his throat and trying to act cool as he took in your outfit, a pretty black dress and some heels. Cute. 

“Come on in,” you said brightly, leading Lando into the living room as Alec and Honey went to speak and play. 

Your house was cozy - with candles, and plants, and some of Alec’s toys on the sofa.

“Sorry about that,” you said, moving the toys out of his way as he sat down, accepting the cup of tea from your hand.

Well, at least now he felt like a proper parent, sitting with another and drinking tea. 

“…Oscar?!” you snapped your fingers in front of Lando’s face. 

You’d clearly called that name multiple times, to no avail. Shit, Lando needed to get used to that name now.

“Uh, sorry, zoned out,” he lied, sipping on his tea as you nodded, that pretty smile still on your face. 

“So, uh, Alec and Honey get on well,” you said, “but tell me about yourself, then, what d’you do?”.

Ah shit. “I’m an…engineer, fix cars and stuff,” Lando said, lying through his damn teeth, but you bought it. He almost felt bad. 

“Nice,” you smiled, “I’m boring,” you laughed, “still in Uni,”. 

“Uni? What are you studying?” he asked, leaning forwards, clearly more happy to know about you then he was to talk about himself. 

“Art History,” you said, “boring old Renaissance,”. 

“No, it’s cool,” Lando said honestly, “it’s unique but in a good way,”.

“That’s what my mum said when I got accepted for that subject,” you said as Lando snorted. 

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Surprisingly, Lando wasn’t hit with a ton more questions, and you two got on quite well. 

The tension had broken and it seemed like it was now Lando’s life mission to see how many times he could pull out that damn gorgeous laugh.

Just when he was about to crack another joke, he felt Alec tapping on his leg. 

“This is cool,” he held up a McLaren model car, Lando’s face paling. Fuck.

Honey was beside him, blissfully unaware of her father’s nervousness as she nodded.

“Look mama,” Alec handed you the car. 

Double fuck. 

“This is cool,” you said, admiring the little orange car, and looking closer. 

“Where’d you get it?” you smiled, looking down to Honey as she looked proudly at the car. “My daddy bought it for me,” she said triumphantly. 

“Mama, can I get one too? Then me and Honey can match!” Alec smiled. 

“Maybe, maybe, I’ll look into it,” you said as Honey grinned. “Did you know, it’s actually dad’s-?” she started. 

“Yeah, it’s my friends,” Lando lied, slowly nudging Honey to go back to play with Alec. 

She frowned but said nothing, as Lando shoved the car back into her bag. 

You were awfully confused the whole time - it was just a car, yet Lando seemed so…defensive. Weird. 

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“C’mon Honey, time to go,” Lando said, beckoning his daughter down the stairs as Alec peeked shyly from behind your leg. 

Your son always did seem to go rather shy when he was around Lando.

“Me and Alec baked these,” you held out a little box of cookies as Lando gave you a smile. 

Shit, this meant he’d definitely have to come back. 

“See you Monday,” you said as Lando waved to Alec, giving you a one-armed hug as he led his daughter from the house. 

“Daddy, Alec really liked my car,” Honey said proudly, “can we bring your helmet or your Miami trophy next time to show them? You show everyone!”. 

That made Lando freeze. 

“Darling, we can’t…we can’t just show her,” Lando tried to explain, “she doesn’t know who we are, and we can’t go around showing normal people these things,”.

Honey frowned, digesting the words. 

“So…So I’m not normal?” she asked, her eyes glazing over as Lando froze. 

“What? No, darling, you are normal, of course you are, I didn’t mean it like that…” he groaned silently as he watched her eyes fill with tears.

Great. 

He’d upset his daughter, dug his hole of lies 10x deeper and almost fucked up a decent friendship with another parent. 

And all in one day too, surely must have been a record for him.

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And so, Monday begrudgingly rolled on by, the little ‘being normal’ debate long forgotten as Honey excitedly rushed down the stairs. 

If she’d been excited the first day for school, she was definitely something else today. 

“C’mon daddy! I wanna tell Alec all about the racing!”. 

Lando groaned. “Sweetie, look,” he said, kneeling down in front of her, “we can’t tell people about my racing,”. 

“What? Why, you literally have it filmed on TV-,” she started. 

Why the hell did she inherit his attitude? God.

“Listen,” he said, putting on his stern voice. He really did hate using his ‘stern’ voice, but desperate times called for desperate measures. 

“You are not to tell Alec about the racing, because we don’t want people to go all over us and start harassing us, okay?”.

“Fine,” she mumbled, crossing her arms. 

He hated this. He hated being angry at his daughter for his own mistakes, and telling her off. 

But he had no choice

He hated to admit it, he hated that it had been, what, barely a week? And he already liked you. 

A lot more than he, as another parent should, but he couldn’t help it. 

You were so pretty and nice and kind and you’d clearly raised your son well. 

Whether he could say the same, he didn’t know. Honey wasn’t spoilt or unkind or anything Alec wasn’t, but sometimes he felt may he could’ve done things differently. 

Or, should have done things differently, that is.

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“Hey,” Lando smiled, wearing one of his hoodie and joggers sets again, the hood pulled over his head. 

“Hi,” you smiled, watching as your son and his daughter went to talk together, or, well, Honey talking and Alec listening. 

Just as Lando opened his mouth to speak, he was interrupted by a rather excited woman standing behind him. 

“Hi, uh, can I get your signature please?” she held out a little notebook as Lando swallowed the lump in hid throat, catching the confused look om your pretty face.

“Sure,” Lando said monotonously, signing it before turning back to you with a forced laugh.

“Sorry. One of those faces,” he said. 

The same excuse he’d given last time. For goodness sake, this wasn’t going to plan. 

You didn’t question it, just moving on your conversation.

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“Hello?” Lando asked, answering the phone, an unknown phone number on the screen. 

“Hello, Mr Norris? I’m calling from your daughter’s school,” the voice said. 

What the fuck? What had she done? 

Sweat was starting to form on the back of his neck as he cleared his throat, nodding his head and waiting for the voice to continue. 

“We’ve taken her to the office, she’d been holding and showing other students a sort of…trophy?” the woman stuttered. 

Trophy…? Trophy. 

Shit. How had he not noticed the damn trophy missing from the cabinet?!

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“This goddamn girl,” Lando grumbled to himself as he rushed into the office, seeing a very grumpy Honey standing with her bag and the damn Miami trophy beside her. 

“Darling!” Lando hissed, “what are you doing?”. 

He didn’t have time to hear her answer as the teacher tapped him on the shoulder, a concerned look on her face. 

“Sir, she’s not allowed to bring items such as…this to school,” the woman said, looking entirely bemused as to the trophy and its importance. 

“I’m aware, I’m aware,” Lando said, “I didn’t know she’d bring it, honestly,”.

“We highly recommend you check your daughter’s bag before she leaves,” the woman said. 

And Lando hated that. Hated how he she looked at him like he didn’t know what he was doing. 

And in all honesty, he didn’t!

He had no clue, but he didn’t like people hinting that he didn’t.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

“Daddy! Are you mad?” Honey whined as he held his hand, his grip tight round her small hand.

“Yes!” Lando said through gritted teeth. 

How she’d managed to stuff the trophy into her bag, he didn’t know. That, and the fact half of it was sticking out her bag too.

“Daddy, I just wanted to show Alec and I might have showed a little more-,” Honey started. 

“Honey,” Lando snapped, “just..don’t, okay?”.

And to make matters worse, he’d heard your voice behind him, calling out his name. Or rather, ‘Oscar’s’ name.

“Just keep walking,” Lando told himself, his free hand balled. 

But you’d caught up. “Hey,” Lando said, putting a fake smile onto his face.

“What happened? Alec mentioned Honey and some trophy- is that it?” you looked at the metal trophy dangling from his hand. 

“Uh yeah,” Lando said, swallowing the lump in his throat again. 

“Can we…speak?” you asked, letting go of Alec’s hand. Shit, Lando was fucked.

“Cool trophy,” you nodded, stepping away from the kids, “so, um, is there…anything I need to know?”.

“About?” Lando said, his voice unnaturally high. 

“Anything,” you said, sighing, “maybe, you know…where the hell you got that trophy from?”.

“I used to do football as a kid,” Lando said, turning the trophy in his hand so you couldn’t see the ‘1’ embezzled on the front. 

“Oh, right,” you nodded, seemingly buying his lies. And he felt so fucking horrible.

“Well, text me when the renovations are done, and we can come round,”.

[gracie-eilish]

your girl💋

summary: you and billie are hanging with friends and she’s feeling a little flirty and confident😉

an: i got my nails done today so i typed this with long nails for the first time in forever. so please excuse any typos my nails may have caused and i missed🤦‍♀️🫠

💋✨❤️🫧

The party buzzed with warmth and laughter as I arrived, shaking off the cold from outside. I tossed my coat onto the pile on the couch in the front room and made my way down the hall toward the chatter and music. “Hellooooo!” I called, announcing my arrival.

A wave of greetings rippled through the room, faces lighting up as they saw me. “Finally!” Kayleigh exclaimed, rushing over to hand me a drink. “We were about to send a search party!”

“Studio ran late, and then, of course, traffic,” I explained, taking a grateful sip. “But I’m here now!”

Kayleigh looped her arm through mine, dragging me into the kitchen. Taylor, Gracie, and Claudia were huddled there, laughing over some snacks. “Look who finally decided to join us!” Kayleigh announced dramatically.

Gracie grinned, tossing a pretzel into her mouth. “About time, Caroline. We were starting to think Billie was gonna pout all night without you.”

“Pouting?” I laughed, grabbing a piece of chocolate from the counter. “What does she have to pout about? I’m here now.”

“She literally sighed and stared at the door every five minutes,” Taylor chimed in with a smirk.

“Like a lovesick puppy,” Claudia added, feigning dreamy eyes.

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “She’s ridiculous,” I muttered, warmth blooming in my chest at the thought.

Gracie leaned in conspiratorially. “You know she’s been winning Uno just to take out her frustration, right?”

“Oh no,” I groaned, laughing. “I better go save everyone before she gets too competitive.”

“Please do,” Taylor begged. “She’s one step away from flipping the table.”

Leaving the girls behind, I made my way into the living room. Billie was mid-game, her brow furrowed in concentration as she slapped down a card with force. “Reverse!” she announced triumphantly, earning a groan from Ava.

“You’re evil,” Ava muttered, glaring at her dwindling deck.

“Evil? No, I’m strategic,” Billie shot back, grinning smugly.

Finneas shook his head. “You can’t call it strategic when it’s pure luck, Billie.”

“Luck?” Billie gasped dramatically. “Excuse me? This is pure skill, Finneas.”

“Skill, my ass,” Zoe interjected, slapping a Draw Four card on the pile. “That’s for earlier, Billie. Enjoy.”

The room erupted in laughter as Billie let out an exaggerated, “Nooooo!” clutching her chest as if mortally wounded.

“Play it, loser,” Jane teased. “Let’s keep it moving.”

Moments later, Billie redeemed herself with a Wild card, and the room exploded in protests as she yelled, “Uno! And… game!”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Sabrina groaned, tossing her cards onto the pile.

Billie stood up, arms raised in victory. “That’s right, bow down to your champion!”

“Sit down,” Finneas said flatly, though he couldn’t hide his grin.

As Billie did a playful victory lap, her eyes landed on me. Her smug grin softened into something more playful as she called out, “Baby!”

All heads turned toward me, and before I could respond, Billie smirked and added, “Come give your girl a kiss, mama.”

The room erupted in whistles and teasing laughter. My jaw dropped, a mix of laughter and embarrassment bubbling up as my cheeks turned bright red. “Oh my God,” I muttered, making my way over to her.

Billie met me halfway, wrapping her arms around my waist and pulling me in for a deep kiss. My giggle was muffled against her lips as the room whooped and hollered.

“Get a room!” Zoe yelled playfully.

“You’re just jealous,” Billie shot back, pulling away just enough to smirk at her.

“That I don’t have to put up with your Uno tyranny? Not really,” Zoe quipped.

Ignoring the banter, Billie looked back at me, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “I’m her girl,” she declared proudly, her arm tightening around my waist. “See that? Hers. Me. I’m her girl.”

“Literally the most obnoxious winner I’ve ever seen,” Finneas muttered.

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game,” Billie replied, guiding me back to the couch.

We settled in, her arm draped over my shoulders as I nestled into her side. Someone suggested putting on a Christmas movie, and the group began debating between classics and modern options.

When the drinks ran low, Billie stood, tugging me along. “C’mon, babe. Let’s go grab more drinks.”

In the kitchen, she turned soft, her teasing arrogance melting away. “How was your day, baby?” she asked, brushing a strand of hair from my face.

“Busy,” I admitted. “But good. The song’s coming together.”

She smiled, her fingers grazing mine as she handed me a glass. “I’m proud of you, you know that?”

I softened under her gaze, squeezing her hand. “I know. Thank you.”

As we headed back to the living room, Billie stopped abruptly, her eyes darting upward. I followed her gaze to the mistletoe hanging in the doorway.

“C’mere, girly,” she said, wiggling her fingers for me to come closer. “I want another kissy.”

I couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out as I wrapped my arms around her neck, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. The group’s cheers echoed around us, Zoe yelling, “Again? Seriously?”

“Get used to it,” Billie shot back, kissing my cheek. “She’s mine, remember?”

“Tragic for us,” Jane teased.

We rejoined the group on the couch, Billie pulling me close again. “I love showing you off,” she whispered against my temple.

I smiled, resting my head on her shoulder. “And I love that you’re mine.”

The movie began, but I barely noticed. Being wrapped up in Billie’s arms felt like the only place I wanted to be.

💋✨❤️🫧

an: hope you enjoyed! i think i decided im a fluff girly, but i have no aversion to smut if i ever really learn to write it lol! send in requests! love you!💋💋💋💋

[tthoroughfare]

garden daisy (part 2) // ellie williams

*･゜ﾟ･* summary: ellie makes a new friend, and you feel all weird about it.

*･゜ﾟ･* pairing: modern!ellie x reader

*･゜ﾟ･* content: sfw

*･゜ﾟ･* length: 1.6k

this is part two of this series! find part one here

okay so i feel like the way i've organized this series is kind of confusing as it started as a random blurb... technically part one is this blurb however the real story starts in the xmas fic! the blurb just kind of exists floating around somewhere before the events of that and sets up the dynamic. call it part 0.5 i guess. also i'm so sorry if ur name is haley it was genuinely the first name i thought of hahaha

after christmas, once you’re all settled back into life at college, ellie gets a new job. it’s just a few shifts a week at a music store, but she seems to be enjoying it. you’re happy for her; it’s nice to see her getting out of the apartment more, doing something that allows her to be in her element.

but then she starts mentioning a girl she works with. like, a lot.

“dude, look at what haley sent me today, i was dying.”

“haley had, like, the coolest shirt on at work.”

“oh my god, so i found out haley likes comics, too.”

at first, it doesn’t really bother you. then, it’s a case of you trying not to let it bother you. why even should it? she’s allowed to make new friends; her life doesn’t revolve around you.

still, you don’t like the way your chest starts to twist every time she gets mentioned, every time you see ellie smiling at her phone. you can hear them on facetime frequently through the thin walls of your apartment, and you more often than not end up shoving your headphones in to drown it out.

they start spending time together outside of work, too. she mentions that they’re going to see an exhibit together on a shared day off, and it takes everything for you to look up from your laptop, give her a tight smile and utter, “cool.”

you can tell she’s a bit dispirited by your reaction, like she’s debating saying something. she leaves it, though, just nodding once and pursing her lips before walking away. you kick yourself for it immediately — wishing you’d tried harder to appear enthusiastic for her. you’re worried it could be the seed of a wedge being driven.

it’s not like she’s completely neglected your friendship. you live together. you see her every day. she still gently knocks at your ajar door, poking her head around and asking if you want to watch a movie with her. you make dinner together on friday nights, something you’d done since you moved out of the dorms and got a semi-decent place.

you’re just so used to it being the two of you. sure, you both have other friends, but you’re best friends. you can’t help but feel a little uneasy all of a sudden someone new is making their way up the ladder, ellie not having quite as much time for you anymore.

at least, that’s what you tell yourself the reason is. you know the real one.

you eventually meet the esteemed haley when she comes over to hang out, and to your petty dismay she well and truly lives up to the boasting. you’ve seen pictures of her (as in, you found her on instagram and stalked her at two in the morning), but she’s even prettier in person. she’s sweet, too, giving you a hug and saying how great it is to finally meet you. ellie talks about you all the time, apparently.

the evening’s spent with the tv on, a few drinks sipped. you’re on one side of the couch, ellie on the other, new friend in the middle. you hate how genuinely likeable she is; she goes out of her way to speak to you, asking you questions about yourself and chatting jovially when you find common ground. she’s cool, smart, witty — it’s impossible not to compare yourself, and feel subpar. like old news.

and you wish you weren’t, but you’re reading into every little thing. the way the two of them easily bounce off of each other’s jokes, the way you can see even where you’re from how ellie’s eyes light up when she looks at her. deciding three’s a crowd and you’re just hurting your own feelings, you call it pretty early.

when you stand after finishing your drink and announce that you’re going to bed, you note the way that ellie’s face drops. “oh… really?”

you scrunch your nose, trying to sound untroubled. “yeah, i’m kinda tired, so…”

“m’kay,” she replies, chewing slightly at the inside of her cheek. she knows you better than that. since you first met, you’ve never been ‘kinda tired’ by nine.

after a pause and a quick look back and forth between the two of you, haley gives you a smile, reiterating her earlier statement. “well, it was so nice to meet you, anyway.”

you return it, nodding. your eyes flit to ellie for a split-second. “yeah, you too. see you both later.”

with that, you place your glass in the sink across the room and head off down the hall.

you change and get ready for bed, although the plan was never to sleep. you’re nestled under a blanket, lights dim and a candle burning as you keep your eyes trained on the bullshit stream of youtube videos you’d put on. you’re not really paying attention, mind well and truly elsewhere; simultaneously feeling sorry for yourself, and like the most petty, mean person in the world.

you feel pathetic for wishing ellie’s new friend wasn’t so easy to get along with. she came off as a nice person, and not in a sickly, fabricated way. you could understand how she’d easily tugged ellie out of her shell. a part of yourself had been secretly hoping she was irritating, or bitchy, or weird towards you — you just wanted something to latch onto, something to validate all the uncomfortable emotions that had been swirling ever since she became prominent.

but there was nothing. now all you’re left with is a weird bitterness towards a perfectly normal, sweet girl, her only crime being fetching up a childish possessiveness within you.

you don’t even understand why you’re like this over her in particular; ellie was always an introvert, but it wasn’t like she was a complete recluse. she’d had a serious girlfriend in high school, seen a couple of girls your first year of college, and you don’t remember feeling anywhere near how you are right now. you just guessed you didn’t have as much understanding of how you looked at her back then, combined with the domesticity of now having your own real place luring you into a warped way of thinking.

you hear haley leave around an hour and a half after you’d taken yourself to bed, followed by ellie shuffling around the kitchen space. the tap runs and there are a few clinks as she washes then places the three glasses to dry, hitting the lights off. her room’s further down the hall from yours, and she hesitates as she’s making her way there.

a few light taps sound from the other side of the door. “you asleep?”

“… no,” you call out softly, watching as it cracks open and ellie picks her way in. wordlessly, she plops herself onto the bed next to you, arm behind her head. you shift away a little, offering her more room.

“what’re you watching?”

“uh…” grabbing the remote, you pause the video for a beat so the title shows. you’re not even sure; you’d just selected the first you saw, then let the rest autoplay. “… ‘six most disturbing forest encounters caught on camera’.”

she chuckles. “spooky.”

“eh… they’re all fake.” you look up at her, smiling a little.

“could’ve fooled me.”

“i’m sure,” you laugh lightly, feeling the need to turn away when she goes to meet your eyes.

it’s quiet for a while, but you can sense she wants to say something. it’s not like one of the times she waltzes into your room simply to hang out, sit at the side of one another peacefully.

“you okay?” she eventually asks gently, turning her head to regard you. you don’t meet it.

“yeah, i’m fine.”

“you sure? ‘cause… i don’t know. you seem a little…”

“i’m all good.” glancing up, you offer an unconvincing, flickery smile. “don’t worry.”

“… okay.”

you can tell it offers no comfort, but she doesn’t push it. just settles further into the bed, scratching at her chin.

her eyes dart from the tv screen to the wall, then back to you. “haley’s cool, right? guessed you guys would get along.”

“yeah, she seems nice.”

she’s really not being subtle; but then again, neither are you. you’d been perfectly friendly while you were all together, but the way you’d disappeared coupled with your increasingly half-hearted responses whenever she was brought up pointed elsewhere.

“seriously, what’s up?” she turns onto her side to face you, resting her head on her arm. “i don’t like this.”

you roll your eyes, sighing as you turn, mirroring her. “it’s stupid.”

“what’s stupid?”

your mind flashes with a million ways you can get an overview of your feelings out, without having to tell her the root cause. “i don’t know, i’m just… like, used to it being… y’know, me and you.”

she pulls a face, letting out a fond scoff and furrowing her brow. “what do you mean?”

a tiny groan sounds from your throat, fingertips rubbing at your eye. “i’m just being stupid. fuckin’ embarrassing.”

laughing quietly again, she narrows her eyes a little. “what, are you, like… jealous?”

“no, i just… i don’t know. ignore me.” you’re trying to ignore the way you can feel your cheeks heat up when she says that word. you’d known all along that’s what you were, but being confronted with it is a whole other sensation entirely.

she doesn’t say anything for a moment, just keeps a small smirk on her face and looks down. “that is stupid.”

“right. thanks.”

“no, like…” subconsciously shuffling closer, her leg brushes yours. she quickly moves it. “dude, i can have other friends, but no-one’s gonna be you.”

you blink, thrown by her sincerity. you’d half-expected her to poke a little fun, call you a dumbass. she continues, your eyes meeting hers as she settles her head into the palm of her hand. “you’re always gonna be my best friend.”

yeah, i know, you think. that’s the problem.

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

COOL FOR THE SUMMER- L. HOWLETT

pairing: older! dads best friend! logan x fem! reader

word count: 3.7k

summary: your dad urges you to come back home for the week he has all his college buddies back, and eagerly you agree because it means you get to see your crush, and your fathers best friend- logan howlett. little does anyone know your goal: to get logan to fall for you as hard as you've fallen for him

warnings: FINGERINGGG!, squirting, heavy praise kink, heavy size kink, innocence kink, daddy kink, manhandling, pet names, age gap (reader is 27, logan is mid/ late 40s), teasing, swearing, drugs and alcohol used, mentions of voyeurism

"i just wanna play with you too/ even if they judge, fuck it, i'll do the time, i just wanna have some fun with you/ got my mind on your body and your body on my mind/ got a taste for the cherry, i just need to take a bite/ don't tell your father, kiss one another-die for each other/ we're cool for the summer"- cool for the summer, demi lovato

It had been years since you had seen Logan Howlett.

And yet, when his eyes met yours- it was like he had never left.

The same gooey, sticky and sappy honey like feeling churned in your stomach when you saw him, making you feel all warm and giddy. You felt like ice cream melting under his heated gaze, just like the soft serve that was dripping down your fingers as you eyed him up from under your little heart shaped sunglasses.

It was hot today, the July heat showing you no mercy.

It had taken countless hours of whining, practically begging someone in the house to go with you to get ice cream.

It was fully packed this week, your dad doing his annual hosting with all his old college buddies- where they’d all drink beer and smoke by the firepit at night, and shoot darts during the day.

He had invited you home for the week too, to hang out with your mom and “keep her company” (whatever that meant), and she had left you for her bed and a bottle of wine.

You didn't blame her.

But it was 3pm, it was so hot you had your head in the freezer.

There was no ice cream to be found, even when you had pleaded with your dad for the keys to the car- and he had insisted there was some already at home.

What a little liar.

After countless pleads and begs, you had finally gotten his closest friend's attention- Logan.

You had always had a schoolgirl-like crush on the older man, it was deemed impossible not to. Everything about him was just so… manly.

Primal and hard edges, with a quick tongue and little tolerance for whining.

But somehow, you managed to play him like a fiddle. He caved, grumbling something about your brat like attitude, practically picking you up by your flimsy skirt and dragging you to his truck.

Now you were here, in the passenger side, sensually licking the dripping vanilla soft serve that trickled down the cone onto your fingers- eyes refusing to leave his body.

You perched your bare feet up on the dashboard, displaying your pink painted toenails skirt hiking up even higher on your thighs.

His grip tightened on the wheel, knuckles flexing as he stared at the road ahead, watching the pine air freshener swing side to side dangling from his mirror.

You knew he wanted you too. But he was too stern to cave into his urges, and you were determined this week to make him snap.

It had been years of this back and forth teasing, little touches and snide comments made whenever you came home to visit and he was around.

You weren't home very often, but when you knew he would show…

“You finally shut up now kid? Stop your whining n’ all that?” he grumbled and you giggled, hand slipping over to fiddle with loose change in his cup holders.

“Yeahhhh… thanks Lo. I really appreciate it. It’s just so hot ya know and I needed to keep my mouth occupied. S’boring.” you teased, licking your lips before taking another large lick of ice cream, savouring the cool, sweet treat on your tongue.

His apples adam bobbed, knuckles practically turning white.

He whipped into your driveway, nearly ramming into the dozens of other vehicles parked along the gravel, slamming on the breaks. It was enough to make you let out a little “oof” as he parked, turning the key in the ignition.

“You’re a spoiled princess. You know that?”

You raised an eyebrow, unbuckling your seatbelt to lean in closer to him, so close you could smell his cigars and sweat.

“Well I’m only home for so long, you know. And besides, I think you like that.”

His eyebrows furrowed, lines of annoyance creased across his forehead as he shook his head- as if he was trying to break free of some sort of trance.

You looked down, noticing a tent in his pants, and couldn't help but smirk before licking your ice cream again.

“Don't start with me kid. It won't end well for ya.” he warned, sticking a finger out to scold you, as if you were nothing more than a stupid child.

Slamming the truck door behind him, you watched from your seat as he stormed off into the house, and bolted to the nearest bathroom in the entry hall. 

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

The first attempt got you somewhere with him.

He got all hot and bothered, refusing to even be in your proximity for the next few hours. It was later in the day, and yet the heat hadn't dwindled.

It was sticky and you were sweaty, groaning into your pillows as you fanned yourself. It was unbearable. The windows cracked open didnt help, and your dad rarely put the AC on.

But you had the perfect idea to break the dry spell.

You smiled mischievously, scampering over to your open window. You had the perfect view of the backyard, where your dad and his friends were lounging around outside, on the porch near the pool.

And there was Logan, with the perfect view of your window- and he was the only one turned towards you, as he cooked something on the grill, a cigar in his mouth- off in his own little world.

Bingo.

Your eyes zoomed in on your target, and as if he felt your gaze, his own flickered up to your window, gaze clashing with yours.

You licked your lips, slowly taking your (already sorta revealing) top off, leaving nothing to the imagination.

His eyes darkened, zoning in on you as if you were his prey, taking a long, sharp inhale of the cigar. He couldn't look away.

You let your hands trace your hardened nipples before fishing out a skimpy bikini from your dresser, tying it up in front of the exposed glass.

He shook his head, eyes fluttering closed as he flipped the food over to keep from burning, trying his best to appear focused on your dads conversation he would oddly be brought into some of the time.

Next was your shorts, then you tugged up the bottoms. Sending him a flirtatious little wave, you trotted down the stairs, snagging a clean, dry towel on your way to the pool.

You were desperate to get cool in the water- and to mainly- get Logan pent up again. It brought you such immense joy knowing his braided rope was uncurling, the pieces becoming thinner and weaker with each innocent smile and remark you sent his way.

Of course, no one else thought anything of it.

You were your dads good girl, charming and sweet and helpful.

But Logan knew. He always knew. He could sniff you out like a hound.

So when you walked out in your tiny little bathing suit, swinging your hips as you walked by him with not much more than a little glance, you knew he was about to lose his shit.

His fingers curled, tightening on the flipper as he looked over and noticed Bucky Barnes eying you up behind your fathers back, as if you were fresh meat.

Something like a growl escaped his lips, unknownst to you as you had already made your way over to the deep end, and dived in. A shirek left your lips as you splashed around in the cool water, basking in the sun as it started to slowly set behind the trees.

You looked over at Logan as he resumed his grilling, taking a slow sip of his beer, watching you as you treading over to the edge, resting your arms on the stone side, looking over at him with puppy dog eyes.

“Lo, could you pass me a beer?” you asked sweetly and he scoffed.

“No way kid.”

“Logan I’m twenty seven, I’m a big girl. Hand one over.”

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, ignoring your protests.

“Come get one yourself then princess.” he growled through clenched teeth, cigar close to sputtering out.

“That's too much work.”

“Well? You want one?”

You huffed, rolling your eyes right back at him. “Fine. Be like that.”

You paid him no mind as you swam over to the other side of the pool, perched over to give Bucky that same sweet, sickly look that drove him head over heels.

He had a nice view of your ass though, from this angle. He couldn't complain about that, even if you were talking to a man who wasn't him.

“Mr. Barnes? Could you pass me a beer please?” you asked gently, and it wasn't even two seconds later before he was rushing over to hand you one.

“Course sweetheart. Just dont spill in the pool, or your dad will have my head.” You giggled, turning your head over your shoulder to give Logan a wink.

“Thank you Mr. Barnes.”

“Honey, Bucky is just fine. None of that formal shit okay?”

You nodded obediently, coaxing out a Yes Bucky before taking a long swig of the amber liquid.

Bucky leaned back in his seat, trying to re- engage with the conversation, his eyes darting constantly to stare at your figure as you floated, taking small sips of the liquid.

They were then met with Logan's heavy gaze, pupils so blown out and black he was lucky the BBQ wasn't thrown at his head at this very moment. 

------------------------------------------------ You nodded your head along with the old dad rock as you took a puff of your joint, letting the warm, fuzzy feelings cloud your judgements as you sunk deeper into the lawn chair, watching the flames from the bonfire grow higher as your father tended to it.

You knew he wasn't pleased with you smoking- but what the hell was he going to do about it? You were an adult. It's not like he could tell you you weren't allowed, anyways.

You felt Logans gaze from across the fire, the flames licking his pupils as he stared you down, while you were blissfully in your own world.

Your little sundress had his eyes wandering places they shouldn't have, and it didn't help that when the sun went down, the slight chill had found its home on your breasts, hardened nipples poking out of the soft fabric.

The more hits you took, the looser you felt, and before you knew it- you were dancing and spinning around to

“I Was Made for Lovin You” by Kiss after you had begged them to put it on- joint dangling out of your mouth.

Logan couldn't help but chuckle as you spun and clapped each time the drums hit- giggling to yourself as you watched him carelessly.

“Does anyone want another drink? I’m gonna go n get one.” you slurred slightly, resting your hands on the back of Bucky's chair as you tallied the requests.

Time was blurring back and forth, so whoever hadn’t  requested one was getting one anyways. You stared off into the distance with a dazed look on your face, coming back to reality when Bucky had turned, placing his hand on yours.

“Hon? You all good?”

“On clouds. I’ll be back. Bye!” you waved, giggling uncontrollably as you skipped back to the house.

You weren't expecting company, not hearing Logans muttering about going with you to keep you out of trouble to the group, eliciting chuckles from his friends.

Shaking his head, he rolled his eyes as he jogged to catch up to you, slipping into the kitchen right after you. You were giggling to yourself about god knows what as he entered, your red, heavy eyes sliding up to meet him from where he stood.

You were bent over the counter, rocking your feet up and down, swaying yourself- no intention of grabbing any beer.

“Hi Lo.”

His eyebrows raised with amusement.

“Whatcha doin here?”

“Keeping you out of trouble. Someones a lightweight, if I’ve ever seen one.”

You rolled your eyes. “Am not.”

“Don't deny it. It's cute.” He bit his lip as he looked you up and down, eyes lingering on the swish of the flowy fabric against your soft, plush thighs, and your breasts that were taunting him.

“M’supposed to get beers. But I don't know who for.” you sighed, turning around to face him.

You were so innocent, so adorable it made his heart shatter into a million itty bitty pieces, and his dick hard as a rock.

“Is that so?”

“Mmm. I think Steve wanted one.” you nodded to yourself, feet padding on the hardwood as you walked over to a cupboard, opening in and frowning in confusion.

“Kay I don't see any beers.”

Logan couldn't help but laugh, walking up behind you to place his large hands on your hips, guiding you over to the fridge.

“Don't laugh at me!”

“M’not laughing honey. Just giving my princess some help, yeah?” The word my slipped out faster then he could catch it, and he was thankful you didn't.

He’d never hear the end of it.

You opened the fridge and let out a squeal as he picked you up with ease, as if you weighed absolutely nothing, letting you scout out the whole fridge- grabbing the cold beers on the top shelf.

“Steve, n Bucky, n Logan… who else?” you murmured, wrapping your arms around the bottles to try and carry them all.

“That's all honey. Good job.” he cooed, placing you back down on the ground, shutting the fridge doors behind you as you set the bottles down on the counter, before perching yourself up onto the granite.

You swung your legs, parting them slightly as you watched Logan watch you.

Intensely.

You bit your lip, feeling your panties dampen even more than they already were- which was saying a lot.

You had rubbed and squeezed your thighs together so much because of the older man in front of you, and you weren't even ashamed. Anyone would, in your position.

“What are you thinking about Lo?” you asked, nickname rolling sweetly off the tongue.

You were the only one who called him that. You were the only one who was allowed to call him that.

“Nothin you need to worry your sweet lil head about honey.”

You bit your lip, batting your eyelashes up at him as he dared to inch even closer. The gap was slowly closing between you two.

You smiled softly, spreading your legs, your dress draped over your thighs so he had a clear view of the wet patch on your lacey pink panties.

He audibly growled, clenching his knuckles at his sides so hard they turned bright white as he let out a breath.

“I’ve been really wet for you all day Lo. And I really need your help.”

He took a deep breath. Shut his eyes. He could not do this.

It broke every rule in the moral code book. Seeing and thinking of his best friends daughter like this- what the fuck was he thinking?

But he was in too deep now. He didn't think he could part from you, from that little wet patch.

He could smell you. Practically hear your little clit throbbing.

“You always need my help. Don't think you could do anything yourself- even if you tried princess.”

You cocked your head innocently, slipping your fingers down to your inner thighs.

“I did do things by myself- all by myself. I touched myself to the thought of you filling me up and keeping me full of your cum n…” you broke off, giggling like a schoolgirl.

“And I just couldn't do it as well as you could Lo. You’re so big n strong, and your hands are so much bigger than mine, I’m sure they’d feel amazing.”

“Fuck. FUCK baby you cant-” he panted, slamming his fist down on the countertop.

You didn't even flinch.

“You can't say that shit. I can't- fuck- your my best friends daughter for fucks sake. Fuck.” he swore, and yet he was even closer to you.

Filling the gap between your parted legs, breath mingling with yours.

“And you’re high and just-”

“M’not super high. Just really fuzzy.”

He snorted. “Yeah, I’m sure. It's so wrong baby, but fuck I can't stop thinking about you. About this tight lil body I could just use and fuck the shit out of.” he groaned, head falling as he took another deep breath, restraining himself.

His words made your clit pulse even harder, and you were desperate for release.

“It's okay Lo. I won't tell anyone. Pinky promise.” your fingers reached out to fiddle with his dog tags as he lifted his head, hungry eyes staring at your lips.

He licked his own.

“I’m just- jus hurts really bad and I need some help. Please. Please, please I’ll be so good, not a word. Just a little touch, anything- please Lo.” you begged, puppy dog eyes staring up at him.

And how could he deny you? You just begged so pretty, your bright little eyes wide and hazy with admiration as you looked at him, making him feel like the most handsome, wanted man in the world.

He was caving, and caving until he caved.

His lips crashed down onto yours, full of want and need, the sweetness of your lipgloss giving him the balance he needed to fuel his fire.

His hands harshly gripped your inner thighs, holding them open as you whined and moaned into his mouth, trying to wiggle from overstimulation. He kissed you until your lips were swollen, gloss smeared as he peppered kisses down your neck, digging his fingers even deeper into your flesh, hard enough to mark.

“Lo-”

“Yeah, you need my help baby? You gonna let daddy take care of you now? Such a big girl, tryin do everything on her own- but she just needs daddy to do everything for her, doesn't she?”

You nodded dumbly, going into a trance like state as he cooed down at you mockingly.

“Fuckin driving you around all day, watching you in that skimpy lil bikini… now you just want some touches to your pretty lil princess parts, don't you baby? You're such a greedy girl.”

You whimpered at his words, feeling his large fingers trace your inner thighs, teasing you as he inched closer to your cunt.

A moan escaped you, your head lolling back against the cupboard as the pad of his thumb brushed the wet patch on your undies.

“Please, please daddy I’ll be so good. Jus please.”

“Awh baby, you sound so pretty when you beg. You're such a fast learner, aren't you? Such a bright girl, but youre going all dumb now hmm? Gonna let daddy touch you all nice n sweet?”

You nodded frantically as he pressed his thumb down on your clenching hole, the fabric getting sucked in as he pressed.

Finally he pushed your thong to the side, air hissing through his clenched teeth as he saw just how wet you were for him.

You were practically dripping right on the counter. Your juices glistened in the pale kitchen light, and you gripped his wrist as his finger brushed through your folds before entering you, curling inside.

“Feel so good-”

He chuckled darkly, watching your little reactions as he worked his finger before adding another one, stretching you out.

Fuck you were tight.

He wondered how you'd fit his cock. He watched every little move, when you gripped his wrist harder, when your little pants and moans slipped out of your pretty parted lips.

“S’big.”

“Sweet girl, am I touching all those parts you couldn't reach yourself? Feels good?”

“S’good.” You were already cockdrunk and he hadn't even put his cock in you yet. Drool was practically pooling out the sides of your mouth as your eyes rolled back in your head as his coos and praises.

“Don't have very long angel, the guys are gonna wonder where we’ve been.”

You nodded, gasping as his thumb came up to rub gentle circles on your clit, making you quiver and shake.

“And we don't want that, now do we? Daddys friends all seeing you perched up on the counter for me, spreading your legs like the sweet lil girl you are.”

The idea of you guys getting caught somehow brought you even closer to your release, as his fingers quickend their pace. The wet sounds of squechling brought heta to your cheeks, and fuck he loved it.

He loved how flustered you got, under his thumb- how you completely gave yourself over to him, so he could take care of you.

“Daddy I’m gonna-”

“Go ahead baby. I’m right here, I gotcha sweet thing.” he cooed, and that was it for you.

You weren't sure if it was the weed or simply Logan Howlett finally appearing where you wanted him most, between your legs- but your release came hard and fast, knocking the wind out of you as your juices squirted all over his hairy arm, some drips landing on his white tank top.

His eyes widened in surprise, a moan leaving his lips at the sight of you, making a mess all over his fingers.

He was aching in his pants, cock leaking with precum- but he knew he couldnt fuck you now. Not now, not here, and not when you were this dazed.

Instead, he planted a kiss and a praise to your forehead, grabbing a rag to clean you up with, leading you upstairs to your room. As soon as your head hit the pillow, you were out like a light, body still shaking slightly in your sleep.

He smiled to himself softly, enjoying this quiet moment of peace as he watched you- so vulnerable and at peace yourself in your bed. Draping a blanket over you, he kissed your forehead again, not once but twice as a promise, brushing the strand of hair that fell over your face back behind your ear.

Knowing the boys would be wondering where the hell he had been, where you had been- he rushed to the bathroom, relieving himself as quick as possible before grabbing the beers and rushing back outside, lying outright through his teeth.

But for you, it was worth it.

[specialgradefckr]

tw: explicit content. sukuna/reader. female!reader, heiain era sukuna. reader is a former courtesan (and not a fancy one, either). sukuna doesn't give a fuck.

It's not uncommon for Sukuna to summon you to his throne room to pleasure him. What is uncommon is for the throne room to be empty when he does.

Today is, unsurprisingly, no different.

Sukuna had ordered you on your knees at his feet, where Uruame stood aside you, plain-faced.

He watches, bored, resting his cheek on his knuckle as foolish lords and sorcerers alike come to him with entreaties for aid, for mercy, for whatever else.

"My lord," one curse user intones, with far too much confidence, "Is that the whore?"

Sukuna tilts his head to the side. You're allowed to glance up at his face while you suck him - he likes it when you do.

Right now, he looks utterly bored.

"This is my whore," He drawls. "Unless you're suggesting I would share?"

There's murmurs, but no one dares answer him. It's not your concern either way.

You gaze up at him, wide eyed. Taking him all the way to the root, stretching so your throat is straight for him, suppressing the urge to gag as you swallow down his cock.

Blinking up at him cutely. Swallowing around his throbbing cock. Am I doing a good job, Su-ku-na~?

Sukuna's lips twist in what other people would call a sneer, but you know the crinkle of his lower set of eyes, the amusement bubbling forth as he snickers menacingly.

(You can also tell that his cock is twitching, ready to blow. Come to think of it, that is quite the advantage, isn't it?(

The curses and curse-users in the room, though, they cower from it. You know to lean into the hand in your hair that pushes you further onto his cock.

A noise of disgust in the background. Feet shuffling, as if impatient.

Let them watch. Let them think what they want, call you what you want.

There's only one person in the room who matters, and his cock is in your mouth. You're a thousand times safer than any of them, even if they don't know it.

His load is hot and salty and a little gross, if you're being honest.

"My lord, are you quite done with that whore already? We've important matters to disgust."

But the utter disdain on his face, the narrowing of red eyes onto the peons before him, the disgust and sensation of his cursed energy -

The sound of his curse slicing through the air. Severing head from body. Gasps and shuffled and bloodied, crunching noises.

Sukuna does it all with one hand petting gently over your head. He doesn't even move, doesn't get up.

He's bitter on your tongue. But you've never felt more safe.

And the power. The knowledge that the most dangerous man in the world would stroke your hair while he slaughtered men too noble for a whore like you.

That is, unmistakably, the sweetest you've ever had.

What is surprising is that the man who visits you later is not Sukuna.

Rather, it's one of the lords who you'd caught lurking silently in the banquet hall.

He wants to know how to earn Sukuna's favor.

"Lord Sukuna is not a difficult man to understand," you say with an indulgent smile. "If you are going to approach him, it should be to offer him something. Otherwise, your life lasts only as long as it amuses him."

This lord is wise, you think, because he pauses a moment before he speaks. "And what does Lord Sukuna desire?"

You shrug. "He likes power, he likes knowledge. I know he has a cursed tool or two that he favors."

Eyes narrowing at you. "What else?" A demanding tone.

"He is a man like any other. You could offer him fine food or drink, but Uruame does that already." You give him a smirk. "You could always offer him entertainment. I do well enough. Would you like to know his favorite positions?"

And at last, the leashed disdain breaks loose, a snarl on the lord's pretty face, "You whore," He raises a hand, "You dare suggest-"

In an instant you drop into the lowest possible bow, head pressed to the floor.

It spares you from the spray of blood that bisects the lord's chest cavity. From what you know of Sukuna, perhaps it would have slashed you, too, had you not knelt in time.

There's silence, for a moment. Maybe he's considering wasting a second slash on you after all.

"What did he want?"

"Your favor, my lord," You answer without hesitation, "He thought I might know a way for him to earn it."

"Hmn." A grunt, half-annoyed, half-mocking; your sign that he is not upset, and you may raise your head to confirm his expression.

There's a light twitch on his lips. "And he thought he might find my favor in the private quarters of my personal possession?"

You shrug. "Most men are not particularly attached to their whores."

"Hmph." The scoff is his dismissal of the topic. When he turns to leave, you know to follow.

It's a short stroll until you reach the courtyard, a well-curated garden. Sukuna strides through it, wordlessly, a giant out of place amongst flowers.

Ever faithfully, you trail behind him. All the way to a great tree at the edge of a path, one he leans back against.

You stand there, waiting.

"What do you want?"

It's not a question you ever expected to hear from him. "What do I want... right now?"

"Hmph," Sukuna crosses his arms, still looking over on the garden. "What do you want from me? You have my favor. Unlike them."

In truth, you have no great desires. You're fed, sheltered. You can buy things you want. All you have to do is please a single man, a thousand times easier than being in a brothel. He's a better lover than most men you'd encountered.

There's not much more you could ask for - which is good. Sukuna has a marked tendency to kill people who ask him for things.

But he's told you to, now. And you've never denied him.

"If I should be so daring, my lord," You say with a low hum, "When you no longer have any use of me, I would like to be dismissed instead of disposed of."

There's a pause. A stillness to him. Cold.

"When I no longer have use of you? When do you expect that to be?" HIs voice is strange in a way you haven't known before.

"I don't know. Of course I'll do all I can before then, but I've seen many women in my time at the brothel. We all lose our beauty and our charm eventually."

Sukuna turns to you. He does not come any closer. Four eyes stare at you, piercing.

"You think I keep you around because you're pretty? I couldn't care less what you look like. I keep you around because you're amusing, and you please me." He snorts, pushing himself off the tree.

You don't know what to say to that. "...I'm glad you enjoy my services?"

"You must be, if all you want is to retire peacefully." Sukuna begins walking away. "Make no mistake, woman. If you want to leave, do it. I don't need you."

You have to hurry to keep up with his long strides. But you catch a glimpse on his face, just a dusting -

"Hurry up."

With a smile, you trail him - all the way to his bedroom.

[bubblemama]

If you’re dying to read the full poem like I was:

Little witches, she calls them, appearing on the lawn in a snap, thumbelina morada at our feet and spiked crown atop a yellowing heart. I don’t remember what we talked about that visit, just the scurry of minutes with their many legs and the cauldron of sun and the memory of another house, where we had both lived a long time ago in the mute dread of his drinking and whims. Driving by I hardly recognized the shard of a porch and relentless walkway to the front door, bad luck then and always, and we turned to see the house, covered in ragged traveler’s palms, the wet sheet of evening air, and the all- at-once conversations in two languages hushed. I didn’t stop but slowed, all those years in that tiny box of concrete and roaches and heat and oblivion. I could write about the perfume of lime and mango trees in the backyard, our little boat piercing the bay waters on Saturdays with the peace of belonging somewhere, even if it never lasted. I could. But the past is a haunting and the best you can hope from a ghost is a sorrow that won’t kill you. We lived. Today she stands beside me admiring the weeds, resilient in high summer, and she tells me she is shrinking, how old age has diminished her. I tell you she only becomes more—more beautiful in her cutoffs and coral lipstick and flip flops with plastic daisies, more dear than my own escape across a country to a place where no one really knows me, and how I wear that blankness like a gown I keep making, bodice a tropical night and skirt trailing behind me no matter how many times I cut it away. She is more surprising than my own reinvention, more unwilling to speak of that time than any of us. She is more. I could say we stood with our arms around each other, admiring how color can crack the ground and insist on its turn. How my will prevailed. We are ordinary women and grow our magic as we need it.

Emily Trelles “Brujitas”

Emma Trelles, from "Brujitas"

[ablobwhowrites]

Detective!y/n : you know Damian, you can get anything you want easier if you just ask nicely.

Damian : ....

Damian : would you be my stepfather if I ask nicely then, (last name)?

Detective!y/n : what.

Random ahh conversation that came to me today.

Also a little thing, detective y/n never tells anyone his last name and hearing Damian say his last name has yet y/n wondering ‘how do you know my last name?’

*At a Mitski concert*

Detective y/n: "you sure we should have come to this concert without checking out her music?"

Co detective: "come on, it'll be fine! I've heard a lot of good things about her, I've heard a lot of people talk about her."

*2 hours later*

*detective y/n outside holding a lit cigarette and somehow having mascara running down his cheeks as his co detective sits with y/n with their head in their hands* (detective y/n barley survived pink in the night and did not survive Francis forever)

Detective y/n when Francis forever comes on (I don't think ex villain y/n would even survive Abbey)

Superman with his super hearing could hear y/n just sobbing at the concert as well as Bruce with that hidden microphone he put in y/n's coat.

Detective y/n calling Dick and sobbing in the call about the concert when he gets home. (He will probably never recover from this)

Also what would rank some of the y/n's that would be most likely to survive a mitski concert and who is the the y/n who will not survive a mitski concert?

(anyways I'm done yapping, hope you guys like this and if you want more or have any ideas for other things please don't be shy and request. But for now please stay safe and drink water!)

[blakeswritingimagines]

Here For A Good Time

Summary: A birthday boy who lost a game but won a round.

Warnings: Birthday sex, Teasing, Riding, Mentions of reader being girlfriend but no real body mentions, Slight begging, Kissing, Mention of marking and biting, PWP, No protection, Mention of round 2.

Word Count: 3.1k

As Nico Hischier, captain of the New Jersey Devils, stepped onto the ice for his team's game against the San Jose Sharks on his birthday, he was filled with a mix of anticipation and excitement. He knew that his team was going to face a tough opponent, but he also knew that anything was possible on a special day like today. You were in the stands watching him play, cheering him on even though you were separated by distance. As the game went on, it quickly became apparent that the Sharks were dominating.

Nico nodded, grateful for your understanding and comforting presence. As you both walked out of the arena and towards the nearest bar, he realized that even though he hadn't won the game on his birthday, he was lucky to have someone like you by his side, willing to make sure that he still had a good night. "You know," he said as they settled down at a table in the bar, "I'm glad you're here with me. I don't know what I'd do without you." "Aw," you said, reaching over to squeeze his hand. "You'd manage. But I'm glad I can be here for you tonight." You lifted your glass, holding it out towards him. "To your birthday, even if the game didn't go the way you wanted it to." You spoke happily. "To my birthday," he echoed, clinking his glass against yours. "And to you, for being the best girlfriend a guy could ask for." As you sipped your drinks, the atmosphere between you loosened up a bit. By now, the earlier disappointment was already fading, replaced by the warm and fuzzy feeling of being in each other's company. "I have a surprise for you," you said suddenly, a mischievous gleam in your eyes. Nico cocked an eyebrow, intrigued. "A surprise? What kind of surprise?" "Well, win or lose, but since you didn't win the game tonight, I figured you deserved a little something special." You reached into your purse and pulled out a small, rectangular box, wrapped in silver wrapping paper. Nico's face lit up with curiosity as she slid the box across the table to him. "What is it?" he asked, picking it up and gently shaking it. "Open it and find out," you teased, watching him eagerly as he began to tear off the wrapping paper.

As the final buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the game, the Devils had unfortunately lost the match, with a final score of 2-3.

Nico's head hung low as he skated off the ice, clearly disappointed with the outcome. He had been hoping to win the game on his birthday, but unfortunately, it wasn't meant to be. As Nico emerged from the locker room, cleaned and dressed up after the game, he could see you waiting for him, a sympathetic look on your face. You knew how much he had been looking forward to the game, and you could tell that he was taking the loss hard. "Hey," you said softly, as he approached. "You okay?" Nico glanced up at you, his eyes still downcast. "I'm fine," he muttered. "Just…disappointed, I guess." You nodded softly. "I know," you replied, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "But it's just a game, you know. You did your best out there, and that's all that matters." You spoke with a smile up at him "I know," he said, nodding. "But it's my birthday. I was really hoping we could win tonight." You smiled sympathetically. "I know you were. But hey, we can still make the night special, right? We can still celebrate your birthday." You tried to lighten the mood. "Yeah," he said, a small smile finally appearing on his face. "Yeah, we can do that. I think I need a drink, though." "I figured you might," you said with a laugh. "Come on, let's head out to the bar and toast your birthday, even if it didn't go exactly how you wanted it to."

Nico peeled away the paper and opened the box to unveil its contents. Inside, nestled snugly in a bed of tissue paper, was a brand new watch, gleaming and sparkling in the dim light of the bar. "Wow," he breathed, picking up the watch and taking in its elegant design. "It's beautiful. But you didn't have to get me anything, you know." "I know," you said, smiling mischievously. "But I wanted to. Besides, it's not just any watch. It's a special watch with a secret surprise." Nico looked at the watch again, more closely this time. "A secret surprise?" he asked, turning it over in his hands. "What do you mean?" Playfully rolling your eyes as you spoke up. "Press the button on the side," you instructed, gesturing to the small, round button on the edge of the watch. Nico obeyed, pressing the button with his thumb. As he did, the face of the watch suddenly lit up, revealing a hidden digital display. On the display, the words "Happy Birthday Nico" appeared, spelled out in neon blue letters. Nico's mouth dropped open in surprise, his eyes wide with wonder. "Did you…?" he asked, looking up at you, incredulous. You grinned at him, clearly pleased with his reaction. "I know, I know, it's a little cheesy," you said, "But I thought it was pretty cool. And it's something you can wear all the time, to remind you of me and your special day…" Nico was speechless for a moment, his stunned expression slowly giving way to a soft smile of admiration. "It's amazing," he said finally, his voice thick with emotion. "I love it. And I love you." "I love you too, birthday boy," you replied, reaching out to take his hand. "And I'm glad I could make your night a little better, even if your team didn't win."

"You always make my nights better, even if we lose," he said, lifting your hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. "I don't know what I'd do without you, honestly." "You'd be just fine, I'm sure," you teased, taking a sip of your drink. "But I don't ever want to find out, for the record. I like being your girlfriend too much." Nico chuckled, feeling the tension and disappointment of the game slowly melt away. With her by his side, he felt invincible, like he could handle anything. "You're stuck with me, then," he said, squeezing her hand affectionately. Nico groaned as he collapsed onto the bed, still feeling the exhaustion from the game earlier in the night. "I can't believe I'm this tired," he mumbled, rolling onto his side to face you. You chuckled softly, rolling onto your side as well so that you were facing each other. "You played hard out there tonight," you said, tracing a lazy pattern on his bare chest with your fingers. "It's no wonder you're worn out." "Yeah, I guess so," he agreed, closing his eyes and savoring the feeling of your touch. "Still, I feel like I should be doing something to celebrate my birthday. Like, we should be out partying or something." You shook your head, smiling softly. "You've had enough for one day. You need to rest and recover. Besides," you added, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. "I have a little surprise for you, if you're up for it." That piqued his interest. His eyes flickered open and he looked at you with curiosity. "A surprise, hm? I thought the watch was my surprise." "Well, the watch was the first surprise," you said, continuing to trace patterns on his chest with your fingers. "But I have another one in mind for now." You leaned in closer, bringing your lips to his ear and whispering softly.

A shiver ran down Nico's spine as he felt your breath against his skin. "What kind of surprise?" he asked, his voice low and laced with anticipation. You pulled back slightly, a sly smile playing on your lips. "A very special kind of surprise," you murmured, your hand moving further down his chest, gently caressing the firm muscles underneath. Nico's breath hitched at the touch, his body already beginning to react to your touch. "You know you're driving me crazy, right?" he muttered, his voice rough with desire. "That's the idea," you teased, your hand still wandering over his body, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. You leaned in to press a series of kisses along his jawline, nipping at his skin softly. Nico groaned, his head falling back against the pillows as he surrendered to the sensations your touch awakened in him. His hands came up to grip your hips, pulling you closer to him, a silent plea for more. You straddled his hips, grinding down against him as you continued to kiss and bite at his neck. Your hands roamed over his chest, fingers tracing the lines of his muscles, igniting a fire in his veins. "God, you're driving me insane," he breathed, his hands gripping your hips tighter as he lifted his hips to meet yours. The feel of your body grinding against his was driving him wild, and he could feel himself losing control. "That's the idea, birthday boy," you purred, moving your lips back to his ear. "Lose control for me. I like you like that." You nipped at the sensitive skin of his earlobe, eliciting a low moan from deep in his chest. Nico's mind was foggy with desire, his body responding to your every touch like a puppet on a string. Your words sent a jolt of electricity straight to his groin, and he could feel himself hardening against you. "You're killing me," he groaned, his hands roaming over your body, desperate to touch as much of you as possible. "But what a way to go, right?" you said, grinning as you felt the evidence of his arousal pressed against you. You moved down to his neck again, biting and sucking at the sensitive skin there, leaving behind a trail of love bites.

Nico's breathing became ragged, his body arching up off the bed as you continued to kiss, bite, and mark him. "I can't take much more," he gasped, his hands roaming up to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer. "Oh, I think you can handle a little more," you purred, pulling back to look at him. Your eyes were dark with desire, and you were clearly enjoying the power you held over him in this moment. Nico swallowed hard, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. "Don't tease me," he pleaded, his voice rough and strangled. "Please, I need you, I need you now…" Your eyes glinted as you looked down at him, taking in his disheveled appearance. "Oh, I see," you said, feigning innocence. "And what exactly do you need, hmm? Use your words, birthday boy." Nico groaned, his grip on your hips tightening. "You know exactly what I need," he said, his voice strained with desire. "You know what you're doing to me, and you're loving every second of it." "Maybe I am," you admitted, grinning as you watched him struggle to control himself. "But I like hearing you say it. I like watching you come undone at my touch." Nico's eyes locked with yours, his expression pleading. "You're going to be the death of me," he muttered. "But fine, I'll give you what you want. I need you, baby. I need you so badly it hurts. Now, please, no more teasing." You chuckled softly, your eyes softening at his admissions. "There, that wasn't so hard, was it?" you said, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips. "And since you asked so nicely, I suppose I can give you what you want…" You shifted, positioning yourself over him, your breath mingling with his as you spoke against his lips. "Anything to make your birthday extra special," you murmured, leaning down to capture his mouth in a deep, passionate kiss. Nico's hands came up to frame your face, his fingers tangling in your hair as he returned the kiss desperately. His body was taut with anticipation, every nerve ending alive with electricity as he waited for you to make your next move.

You pulled back just enough to nip at his lower lip, before moving downwards to his neck, leaving a trail of kisses down his chest. Your hands roamed over his body, fingers dancing over his sensitive spots, causing him to shiver and buck beneath you. Nico's breath was coming in ragged gasps as you continued your ministrations, his body arching up off the bed to meet your touch. "God, you feel so good," he groaned, his hands gripping the sheets tightly. "Please, baby, don't make me wait any longer…" You leaned down to press a kiss to his hip bone, grinning at the way he shuddered beneath you. "Patience, birthday boy," you teased, looking up at him through your lashes. "I'm just getting started." Nico let out a guttural moan, his head falling back against the pillows. He was coming undone beneath your touch, his control slipping away with every kiss, every bite, every caress. "I can't take much more," he pleaded, his voice hoarse with need. You reached down to guide him inside you, taking your time to savor the sensation of being filled by him. "Mmm, you're so big and hard for me already…" you begin to lower yourself down, inch by delicious inch, until you're fully seated on his lap. Starting to move, rolling your hips in a slow, sensual rhythm. "Like this, Nico? Is this what you wanted, baby?" Leaning forward to capture his lips in a deep, passionate kiss, moaning softly into his mouth as you kept up with the slow, passionate pace. Nico groaned, his hands roaming over your body as you moved above him, enveloping him in a wave of sensation. "God, yes," he gasped, his voice thick with desire. "You feel so good. So perfect." He captured your lips in a desperate kiss, his tongue tangling with yours as he eagerly returned the kiss. His hands moved to your hips, guiding your movements as you continued to rock against him, each shift of your hips sending waves of pleasure through his body. "Baby, you're so good," he breathed, his head falling back against the pillows.

You smiled at the compliment, your hands sliding up his chest to toy with his hair as you continued to move above him, the intensity of the sensations building between you both. "I could do this all night," you purred, nipping at his neck as you picked up the pace. Nico groaned, his hands gripping your hips tighter as the pace quickened. "Don't tempt me," he said, his voice gruff with need. "I won't last long if you keep doing that." You chuckled softly, biting down on his earlobe as you continued to move against him. "Oh, I think you can handle a little more," you whispered, increasing the pace even further. "You're going to drive me insane," he gasped, his hands gripping your hips so tightly it was almost painful. But he didn't care, his mind consumed by the overwhelming pleasure your movements were bringing him. "That's the idea," you repeated, grinning as you continued to grind down against him. You could feel the pressure building inside you, the sensations threatening to overtake you at any moment. Nico's breathing was ragged, his chest heaving as he fought to hold on. "Baby, I'm so close," he gasped, his eyes clenched shut as he struggled to control himself. You reached down to capture his lips in a deep, passionate kiss. "Let go, birthday boy," you whispered against his lips. "I've got you." That was all it took to push him over the edge. With a guttural moan, he surrendered to the pleasure, his body tensing up as he let go completely. "Baby, I'm coming," he gasped, his hands gripping your waist tightly. You watched with satisfaction as he came apart beneath you, the pleasure you had taken from him now mirrored in your own body. You slowed your movements, bringing him down from the high, your own breathing still coming in quick, shallow gasps. You leaned down to press a soft kiss to his forehead, your fingers gently brushing away the strands of hair that had stuck to his sweat-slicked skin. "You okay there, birthday boy?" you teased, a soft smile playing on your lips.

Nico chuckled weakly, his eyes fluttering open as he tried to catch his breath. "I don't know if I'm ever going to be okay again," he said, his voice rough with exertion. "You just blew my mind." You smiled, feeling a sense of triumph at his words. "Well, that was the idea," you said, gently untangling yourself from his embrace and crawling up to lie beside him. "But I hope I didn't overdo it." "No, no, it was perfect," he said, rolling onto his side to face you. "You're always perfect." He reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face, his eyes softening as he looked at you. You leaned into his touch, enjoying the feel of his fingers as they traced a path down your cheek. "You're pretty perfect yourself, you know," you said, smiling softly. "Happy birthday, Nico." He smiled, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Thank you, baby. For everything. For the watch, and for this." He gestured to the rumpled sheets and the aftermath of their passion. "Well, you deserve the best," you said, snuggling up against him and resting your head on his chest. "So I had to make sure your birthday was extra special this year." "Well, you definitely succeeded," he said, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer. "I don't think I've ever had a better birthday." He was silent for a moment, his fingers gently tracing along your spine. "Although, there is one thing that could make this night even better," he said, his voice low. "Oh yeah?" you asked, curiosity piqued. "And what's that?" He shifted, rolling over to pin you beneath him, his hands on either side of your head. A sly grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I can think of a few more ways to celebrate..." You gasped as he pinned you down, a shiver of anticipation running through you. "You're insatiable," you said, a playful smile playing on your lips. "But I'm not complaining." "I can't help it," he said, leaning down to trail kisses along your neck. "You just bring out the animal in me, baby." He began to move against you, his body already responding to your proximity. "And I'm not done with you yet…"

[vidavalor]

Hi @rawbutprecious! Hope you're well. Interesting topics you've brought up! I'll have a go whilst I take a little break from this crazy day...

<<There was surprisingly little mention of food in season 2>>

Yes, there was more rejection of food and drink than there was eating or drinking, which I think is reflective of Aziraphale's depression. It's part of his mental health spiral and the fact that S2 is a mirrored S1 where some of the things are going to wind up opposite to what they were before. I think it's part of what makes the ox rib scene so enjoyable.

<<but there were Eccles cakes. Puritans equated them to paganism and debauchery. Aziraphale could be sinning by fighting against Heaven.>>

I don't know if I'm reading what you were saying correctly but food is not a sin and the Puritans were batshit crazy. You are right that eccles cakes were considered food of the devil by the religious wingnuts back in the day because they were so tasty. Religious fanatics have issues with pleasure and have a long history of labeling anything not miserable as demonic. Eccles cakes were banned for a time in the 1600s (curiously, around 1650, a time was mentioned in S2 but that we haven't seen). It was all very silly, just as how similar nonsense today is. Good Omens is a religious satire-- it's poking fun at this stuff not using it to support religious ideas. There's nothing wrong with Aziraphale liking food and sex and other pleasurable things. Those things are not sinful.

<<Could this be harking back to the bookshop fire and also the death of Aziraphale?>>

Yes, in a way. The bookshop fire is tied into Aziraphale's discorporation and it would make sense in a figurative way that, since the bookshop is metaphorical for/euphemistic for Aziraphale, that when Aziraphale was discorporated in S1-- when he lost his body-- that the same events led to the bookshop "losing its body" by burning down. So what does it say that the end of S2 is that Aziraphale gave up the bookshop to the Angel of Death, our lovebug Muriel, who is now is the one occupying the bookshop, as the linked meta gets into?

What does it say about who it is that asked Nina "does anyone ever ask for death?" before bringing Aziraphale a coffee and a temptation of exactly the only thing that could ever make him fall to hell? 😉

My quasi-daily "that ain't The Metatron, my friend" post quota is now complete for today. 😂

So, Aziraphale arrived in Edinburgh with a briefcase we never see him open and a hat that reads, among other things, "PRESS 66" on it, right?

And we might think that these are just Aziraphale's journalist cosplaying accessories but I think there are some hints that there's a bit more going on here than we might think-- all of it very relevant to The Finale.

We think that Aziraphale's arrival in Edinburgh is the first time that we see these things but, in true Good Omens form, the hat and briefcase are both actually glimpsed in a prior scene... rather significantly placed in that earlier scene, even.

Here they are, sitting together, the hat atop the briefcase, both in front of Jimbriel's once Fly-containing box, beside/behind the memory-wiped Muriel, in the scene below:

So, as Muriel is sitting there, not remembering Aziraphale, and as Aziraphale is sitting there, remembering Muriel and thinking all the things about the fact that they don't remember him at all? In the shot between them is the box into which Jim put his memory and brought it to Crowley and Aziraphale for safe keeping. In front of that box? Is Aziraphale's press hat and briefcase, seemingly drawing some connections between the journalist accessories and the memory plots in S2. Hmm...

What this scene also shows is that Aziraphale didn't just magic this stuff up as props when he arrived in Scotland. Even though we didn't see them in the car on the way up, they were there on the passenger seat for him to retrieve upon his arrival. He brought them with him from the shop. He packed them overnight and they were there, all ready to go, prior to Muriel's arrival, which coincided with Crowley coming over and moving the plants out of the car because Aziraphale planned to take it to Scotland. Why does this matter?

Because it might signal that there's more to the briefcase and the hat with its press credentials than we might initially suspect.

I think it would be safe to say that Aziraphale, by this point in the story, would be concerned that his memories were in danger.

He knows he's always been on a collision course with falling and this is all escalating pretty quickly in S2 in the two days prior to Aziraphale packing this press stuff and taking the car. Gabriel was The Supreme Archangel and he couldn't remember who he was and the archangels had shown up to threaten them and say that they're going to be spying on him even more closely, sending another angel to bug them the next day... the memory-wiped Muriel being quite an interesting choice, as that's sending quite a threatening message. Aziraphale also had roped Maggie and Nina into this and he knew he was likely going to have a confrontation with Heaven and Hell coming.

One of the first things he'd be concerned about would be his memories, right? and it's here where we can mention what we later learn about what Heaven can and cannot do regarding those memories... things that are new to us but that Aziraphale likely would have already known and factored into his plan, as we'll see.

Hints are given to this all season via Gabriel but it really becomes overt in this scene here:

This scene proves that Gabriel's memories aren't just in The Fly in S2-- they're also still in his mind. His memories are shown to be in two places at once. Gabriel's memories-- ones even directly related to the trauma he underwent-- actually began to come back before The Fly, in this scene. Gabriel felt safe and like he was talking with someone who could understand in this scene with Crowley so the memories began to come back for him.

The point here is that this scene shows that, when Gabriel "took his memories out" and put them into The Fly, what he was really doing was basically backing them up. He "uploaded" his memories into The Fly for safekeeping so he could retrieve them later, as a way to keep it so that they wouldn't be erased forever, but those same memories are still also on the "hard drive" of his mind. They were just mostly inaccessible to him for almost all of S2 because of trauma.

Before you say well, Gabriel might be a special case because he took his own memories out to avoid Heaven attacking him? Consider that Crowley didn't have a chance to do that-- but he tells Gabriel he knows how Gabriel feels.

Crowley has had the same experiences with his own memories. He's been able to bring some back at different times, without a lot of context, but a lot remains blocked. Crowley saying that he's been able to retrieve some memories means that those memories are still there in his mind, just very painful and difficult to access.

The idea might be that their memory loss is actually trauma-blocking. If Crowley's situation has the same effect as Gabriel's, it suggests that Heaven can't actually take people's memories-- they can only block them.

This would then be suggesting, as a lot in S2 did, that Gabriel didn't develop retrograde amnesia from taking his memories out-- he developed amnesia from the trauma he underwent.

When he felt safe enough to confront some of that trauma, the memories started to come back to him a bit.

What does this have to do with Aziraphale's briefcase, you ask?

It is connected because Gabriel's memory loss being from the trauma of Heaven trying to kill him, not from putting his memories into The Fly, proves that an angel could take his out their memories and not get amnesia from doing so.

Gabriel's story is showing that they could take out their memories whenever they want and still retain those memories also in their minds and be perfectly fine.

It's showing that Aziraphale could have backed up his memories in S2 without experiencing memory loss-- and the press hat and the briefcase are tied to just how he might have done that.

Aziraphale might have taken one look at Gabriel and his memory situation and the archangels circling the shop and thought that it would be a good idea to backup his memories and store them somewhere safe for if this all went pear-shaped.

What's interesting is that then, in a parallel shot to Aziraphale arriving in Edinburgh, we have this later scene when Aziraphale returns to London... note what's missing:

We see him park by the suit shop-- but no suitcase/briefcase this time. No hat. He's also taken off the raincoat. We never see them again for the rest of the season but we see a whole bunch of scenes that hint at where they are and why Aziraphale has left them in that location.

In this moment, we spend a strange amount of time on watching Aziraphale get out of the car and look around, hands-free, pat The Bentley, go for a little walk for a moment...

He talks to Nina, he goes back to the bookshop and greets Crowley and gets an armful of plants. The Bentley is largely the focus of the scene with Nina as well and its moving up in a scene that involves Nina and her bicycle-- another "mad 'American' woman on a bicycle", in parallel to Anathema in S1-- recalls Aziraphale miracling a bike rack onto the boot of The Bentley to transport Anathema's bike back to Jasmine Cottage. The key to getting Anathema and her bike safely home to her cottage was the bike rack Aziraphale made happen; the key to getting him and Crowley safely to the South Downs Cottage might be what Aziraphale stashed in the trunk of the car on his trip.

Here's where we can see that scenes before and around this involving Shax and Crowley show us pretty emphatically where the briefcase and the press hat are not located in the car...

They can't be on the passenger seat as they were on the way to Edinburgh because Shax wouldn't have been able to sit there when she got into the car on the drive back from Edinburgh. They also can't be in the backseat because the scene adjacent to Aziraphale's return to London is he and Crowley loading the plants back into the backseat. Crowley would have handed him his things if they were back there.

So, we have all of these shots of Aziraphale's return that are, among other things, emphasizing that the hat, the raincoat, and the briefcase are all not things he's taking out of The Bentley's trunk upon his return, even if they are his belongings and he brought them with him from the bookshop. He's intentionally leaving them all in the Crowley's car.

Aziraphale definitely did not leave his memories in a briefcase in The Resurrectionist Pub, even though that's the last place we saw the briefcase. How do we know that?

Because let's say that we're right here and Aziraphale did put his memories into the briefcase... either into something else that he then locked into the briefcase or just into the briefcase itself. What's the one problem with this?

He locked them in there for safekeeping, right? So...

He can't just leave the briefcase for Crowley-- he also needs to leave the key to the briefcase, yes? He needs to leave the combination somewhere... but he also has to hide that combination key. The briefcase wouldn't be very safe if just anyone could figure out how to open it, right? It needs to be something only Crowley can understand.

This is why Aziraphale is not a private detective in Edinburgh but a journalist because the key is in the hat.

How does one open the locked briefcase?

Press 66. 😉

The briefcase and the hat go together because the briefcase cannot be opened without the press credentials in the hat which, in very Good Omens and Crowley & Aziraphale form, look like they're one thing but are really another when you consider alternate meanings of words. Aziraphale knows that only Crowley would see Aziraphale's hat atop that briefcase and the 'Press 66' and work out that it's how to open the briefcase.

It would also be very Good Omens to nod to famous film Macguffins and then make them actually important in Good Omens' story. While a "what's in the briefcase?" thing here is very Pulp Fiction, the film that inspired the briefcase in Pulp Fiction is 1955's atomic noir Kiss Me Deadly, which is being referenced all over the place in S2.

The scene where Aziraphale picks Shax up from the side of the road is a homage to Kiss Me Deadly's opening scene, Gabriel's memory issues and his "I am in The Fly" note is similar to part of the central mystery of that film, and Kiss Me Deadly is the origin of the popularization of the word vavoom/va-va-voom.

Like basically every other film referenced in Good Omens, it's also known for innovative use when it comes to language-- particularly, coded cinematic language, in this case. Like North by Northwest, which is referenced in both parts of 1941 so far, Kiss Me Deadly found innovative ways to get around the Hays Code to tell its story. References to The Maltese Falcon in the story are also likely in relation to that story using etymology-based language to queer code aspects of its story, in a similar way to Good Omens, but also that The Maltese Falcon itself is a bit of a MacGuffin. In Good Omens, though, it seems like they're actually winking at those by making Macguffin-alluding things actually important parts of the story.

Anyway, the biggest fan theory about what's in the briefcase in Pulp Fiction is based around the combination to the briefcase being 666 in the film and the idea is that it's Marcellus Wallace's soul, which he sold to the devil. Famously, the audience never sees what's inside the briefcase. We might be saying here that the combination to Aziraphale's briefcase being 66 may be nodding to Pulp Fiction's briefcase a bit and hinting at the Satan in The Final 15 ideas. 66 is also tied to Route 66 and rock 'n roll in America, Buddy Holly, and the paralleling Gabriel & Beez flashback, maybe especially hinting at memory-related things happening with the briefcase.

I won't spoil you on what's in the briefcase in Kiss Me Deadly but let's just say that it goes along with Good Omens pretty well thematically... in a much, much darker way. The film being very bleak noir makes it very different in tone from Good Omens but the fact that the briefcase is actually is relevant to the story in the end of that film might also hint that Aziraphale's disappeared briefcase might wind up being important in The Finale, too.

Adding to this theory is also that another briefcase in The Bentley's trunk/boot was also something shown earlier in S2-- on a very significant night in Crowley & Aziraphale's history:

When Aziraphale is in Edinburgh, we see him intentionally hamming up his newspaper man persona and, in doing so, he takes the briefcase into The Resurrectionist Pub, right? Bit of foreshadowing there as to what will happen to Aziraphale and what will need to happen to bring him back?

Yes, we don't see the briefcase again after this scene but I doubt he left it in the pub because it would be useless to Crowley without the hat, on which Aziraphale has hidden the briefcase combination hidden in plain sight. Aziraphale was seen wearing the hat in one scene set after we last saw the briefcase, proving that both of them and the raincoat are in the trunk of The Bentley:

Aziraphale wore this whole get up to Edinburgh so that, if anyone was watching him, they'd think he was Muriel-like cosplaying a newspaper man. I mean... we know the trench coat is a little Columbo-esque, but why wouldn't he just be a private detective and not a journalist, if the goal was just to play a role to help solve the Gabriel mystery? Because he had to be a old movie-esque journalist so he could have the word press there in the credentials, only for its other meaning for the briefcase combination.

Aziraphale definitely had a whole other list of motivations for being the one to go to Edinburgh. He wanted Crowley to rest in the shop and to talk to Gabriel, he wanted to be the one to go tackle the mystery, and he wanted to work on his 1827 issues by going to the graveyard again... but we might find we can add to that list that he also realized it would be a good opportunity to hide his memories in a briefcase in The Bentley with actions that are right there, in plain sight of anyone who is watching-- including us 😉-- but might not be deemed suspicious.

Parallel-wise, the briefcase and The Bentley are the matchbox and the moving box and PRESS 66 is Aziraphale's equivalent to I AM IN THE FLY... all before Aziraphale and Crowley actually figured out what Gabriel and Beez did to protect Gabriel.

He's pressing on the press hat he's leaving for Mr. Six Shots of Espresso... 😂 The press card is in his hat, like a feather... Crowley's "it'd be a real feather in your cap wing" joke from the foreshadowing "I'll be damned"/"It's not so bad when you get used to it" scene in 1.01...

That demon doesn't know it yet but he's driving around with Aziraphale in the trunk because Aziraphale figured out how to get around the worst case scenario. He knew he was on a collision course with falling and he found a way to potentially dodge the memory loss by stashing his memories for Crowley in The Bentley.

His enthusiasm in Edinburgh is him barely able to contain his amusement at getting one over on anyone watching him who think they know what they're seeing but don't realize what he's actually up to.

No wonder why he was walking on air when he got back to London-- it was mission accomplished. He'd managed to leave Crowley the ability to bring him back, tucked away in the safest spot possible.

The bookseller who, like the others, is a metaphorical book/paper, left their out for Heaven and Hell trying to kill him for Crowley's safekeeping in a briefcase... the thing people use for...

...paperwork. 😂

But wait... there's one other big question, though, yes?

Why didn't Aziraphale tell Crowley this?

There absolutely was enough time and opportunity to tell Crowley he'd backed up his memories and left them in The Bentley's trunk.

The fact that this didn't come up seems wild, right, because they both know that Crowley has been having a steady anxiety attack about Heaven and Hell circling all week. We would think that, if Aziraphale had figured out this plan to circumvent that threat, the first thing he would have done would be to tell Crowley about it, yes?

Except... while I wrote this meta from the perspective of what the end result of Aziraphale's actions with the briefcase might be in The Finale, I don't actually think that was Aziraphale's own motivation for doing what he did.

Aziraphale didn't take out his memories and leave them in the briefcase in The Bentley for Crowley as a backup plan for them to elude a form of death for Aziraphale.

He left them there for Crowley to find and have after Aziraphale was already gone. Why else would Crowley need the combination on the credentials on the hat, right?

If Aziraphale had intended on his memories in the briefcase being a plan to save himself, he would have told Crowley about it so that Crowley would know. Instead, though, it's something of a suicide note. He left them for Crowley to find and have in the future.

I think The Bentley was even warning of this suicide ideation and showing concern upon the return to London for Aziraphale over what he had put in its trunk. The car is worried. [I love Good Omens-- when else am I going to type a sentence like that? 😂]

Aziraphale first parked it in front of Battye [madness] & Palm [to take]. It's a shop reflective of a lot of that depression and suicide ideation happening in Aziraphale's story and leading to his fall that I looked at in The Devil Takes The Hindmost.

The Bentley then drives itself-- and all Aziraphale's Aziraphaleness in the briefcase-- up a few feet. What is The Bentley then aligning Aziraphale with?

Death.

The car parked itself in front of the Give Me Death half of Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death...

... until Aziraphale told it to go back to where he parked it. Then, The Bentley backed up a few feet to Battye & Palm and all the madness that is the rest of the season. The car was foreshadowing the end, parking itself right along where it would be parked the last time we'd see it in S2.

The trunk is aligned with Give Me Death in The Final 15...

...fulfilling the foreshadowing of the end of S1.

[haikyu-mp4]

November

word count; 1033 – f!reader

Kozume Kenma did not want to be in the library right now. If he had his way, he would be asleep under a warm duvet all day now that classes had ended for the semester. Unfortunately, he had a lot to learn before exams, and there was no time to waste.

He chose a seat by the table in the back, which was only occupied by one other student, who he didn’t acknowledge at all. You eventually took notice of him, though. The cute guy with the outgrown bleach was looking down at his schoolwork with a frown, and you were very amused. You stretched your arm out to get his attention, and Kenma eventually looked up with a face that bridged between annoyed and confused. He looks like a kitten, you thought. "What did that book ever do to you?"

"It mocks my lack of will. So if you could try not to distract me, that would be great," he answered, which ended your conversation abruptly. You smirked to yourself, picked up a pen and got to work on your next drawing after taking a sip from your water bottle. Kenma calmly put on his headphones, a sign to please leave him alone.

After about half an hour, Kenma sat back in his seat to stretch. His spine cracked, and he clapped his cheeks to stay awake. You took this as your opportunity and flipped your drawing pad to show him the newest masterpiece. Kenma turned his head at the motion, and his face quickly fell in disbelief. You had drawn him how he looked today, except with ears and a nose that resembled a calico cat. He frowned when he noticed your wide and proud smile. Annoyingly enough, he was impressed by your unusual art style. When Kenma looked down at his notes again, he couldn't help the small smile that crept onto his face. A light rosy colour tinted his cheeks despite his efforts to stay cool, and your heart fluttered. Mission accomplished.

A week later, even closer to exams, Kenma made his way to the library again. To his surprise, the woman he still didn't know the name of was there too. With a quick rundown of positives and negatives in his head, he decided to take a seat across from you.

You sat like that every day for the whole school week. Kenma tried his best to cram as many facts as he could and actually started to feel like this exam might go well. He didn't quite know what the person across from him was working on, but you had several different coloured pens and even a small box of watercolours along with a brush that somehow stored the water you needed in the handle. He started wondering, and before he could stop himself, "Are you allowed to paint in here?"

Your eyes met, unconsciously having a staring contest for one too many seconds. Oh, so he wants to talk to me now? When his eyes wandered around your face and hands, he noticed that you weren’t exactly being careful with your colours either.

"No one has told me not to," you said slowly as if trying to convince him. A small smile graced his lips, and you felt greedy for more of it.

"Sounds like solid reasoning to me," Kenma agreed and leaned back in his chair. His hand lifted to point at the back of your large notepad, "What are you creating now, then?"

Abashingly, you turned it around. You had filled the whole page, and he recognised it as the library you were currently in, but with much more sunshine and colours, orange flowers growing from the books and pink cows making their way across the floor in the back. "I study visual arts. We have to create an exhibition, and my theme is perspective." His mouth fell open slightly as he nodded in understanding when you explained.

"It's cool. You're good at that." Kenma kept his voice low, and something about it was so enticing to you. He spoke so calmly and every emotion of his was a mystery. "I'm Kenma."

"I'm y/n." After settling down from your little conversation, you kept sipping from your water bottle. Kenma’s mouth dried every time he heard the sound. He did his best to clear his throat, realising he hadn’t brought anything to drink.

“Do you have an inspiration?” he asked, mostly wondering if you actually saw the words that way.

The corner of your mouth quirked. “I’ve always like games, it’s affected the way I see the world. Sorry, that probably sounds like childish imagination.”

Kenma thought back to the things he’d imagine when he ran in high school for volleyball practice. The way he’d make it into a game. “No, I… Uh, I totally get it.”

You two naturally fell into silent, individual work again. Kenma kept glancing over at your paintings, but whenever you met his gaze, he would look away. Eventually, the sun went down, and you both started clearing the table, silently packing everything into your bags. Come on, Kenma. Just smile at her and say something. However, somewhat luckily, you beat him to it.

"Hey, Kenma?" He lifted his head swiftly, eyebrows raised, happy that you started the conversation. "Do you want to get a drink?" You weren’t necessarily nervous, but undoubtedly hopeful for his answer. The corners of his mouth lifted in a kind, small smile. You had both picked up your bags and stood beside the table.

"A drink? Yeah, sure." Kenma’s voice sent a shiver down your spine again, and you straightened up with an even broader smile.

"Fun! Cool, cool, cool- The student bar?"

"I've only been there once or twice before, never saw the charm." The student bar had a certain vibe that didn't fit him when he just wanted to drink. A lot of people were there to socialise with new people, and Kenma was not interested.

"The beer is cheaper there," you said in a sing-songy voice to try and convince the handsome man. Kenma wasn't entirely convinced, but if you wanted to go there, then he wouldn't argue.

"Lead the way."

The Schoolyear Series ║ masterlist

[clearlyonhere]

Results from eating and being lazy all day! How did I do?

I feel so round right now. I’m so full if I lay down I have to roll over to get up. My belly is too full to use my abs. I’m breathing shallow because all the food is crammed so tight in there. I could barely unbutton my pants. I ate so much food today! Yummy bowls of soup, candy, gainer shakes, trail mix, fried chicken, assorted drinks, and more. If you watched the video you can see how much is hanging over these pants and the way it jiggles when I play with it. I love watching it wobble after I shake it. I can only play with a little jiggle. I’m packed soooo full right now; my belly is hard underneath those layers of soft squishy fat. It’s the most amazing feeling, the jiggle over such an overly stuffed belly. I can’t wait to be softer. Grabbing handfuls of belly seems like it will be so much fun.

[melosliving]

kelvin harrison jr x pregnant!reader

warning : overly cuuute husband kelvin (I need him)

husband!kelvin who knew he wanted you to be the mother of his kids after y’all kissed for the first time.

husband!kelvin who couldn’t help but smile every time he would see you running towards every kid you would see at a family function.

husband!kelvin who chokes with either his drink or his spit when asked about a baby with you.

"Damn you be in my business ?"

"Well.."

"Don’t do that." he would laugh.

husband!kelvin who overtime develops the cute habit of caressing your belly when cuddling with you before sleeping.

husband!kelvin who annoyingly starts to sing random lullabies, which leads to you being pissed off because the songs are now stuck in your head.

husband!kelvin who quietly snaps pictures of you each time you find yourself with a baby in your arms, gushing about how beautiful you look.

bestie!aaron who tells kelvin he has a baby fever, which makes him wonder if you actually wanted to have kids with him.

"bro, look how cute she looks !" he said, showing aaron a picture of you holding your cousin’s son.

"you would make cute babies, that’s for sure."

"huh ?" he asked, dumbfounded. "you think she wants to have kids with me ?" he seriously asked aaron.

"brother, I don’t think she would’ve accepted to get married to you if she didn’t want your babies." aaron simply answers.

"You right ! hum.. baby ?" kelvin said, now searching for you.

husband!kelvin who when he finally finds you in the kitchen, feeding one of your brother’s kid, definitely knows he wants to have kids with you. Now.

"you would make the best mother, you know that baby ?" he says, coming behind you while circling his arms around you.

pregnant!reader who is a mess after actually finding out she was indeed pregnant and immediately calls Kelvin’s mom.

husband!kelvin who laughed in your sister’s face when she congratulated him, not knowing he didn’t know you were pregnant.

husband!kelvin who cries in your arms when you told him you were pregnant. He never let you go after that.

husband!kelvin who decided to buy a camera and record every little thing you would do. From the first sonogram, to the first clothes you bought for the baby, etc.. at every end of the day he would film himself saying good night to the baby.

"okay, so today we’re finding out if you’re a boy or a girl ! What are you thinking mama ?" He says, turning the camera so you would be seen on the screen.

Sitting pretty in the passenger seat, you put your sunglasses on, smiling. "I think it is a girl," you say, caressing your 4 month belly. "I do too actually !" Kelvin nodded.

husband!kelvin who can help but feel bad for you every time you would throw up and crave weird things such as ice with pickles (wtfff) but would nonetheless give you anything you desire.

husband!kelvin who can’t help but worship the ground you walk on everyday. His eyes would glisten each time he would see you wear whatever that made your pretty bump visible.

"smile for the camera mama !" he would say.

soon-to-be-father!kelvin who would jump out of the bed when you told him that your water broke, freaking out already.

soon-to-be-father!kelvin who holds your hand through it all, looking at you with concern as he watched your face contorting in pain. he would do anything to ease your pain : ice chips ? He got you. Hand ? Take it. Need him close ? he would do anything to be in your skin.

Soon-to-be-father!kelvin who is so proud of you for going through all of this and handling it like the champ you are !

"You’re doing so good baby, I’m so proud of you." He would whispered in your ear, still holding your hand. He would then kiss your forehead as you pushed. "c’mon you got it, the baby is almost here mama."

Soon-to-be-father!kelvin who would be nosy as hell, trying to see the baby coming out of you in live, almost pushing the doctor and nurses just so he could see.

girl dad!kelvin who waited a whole 9 months to be able to sing to you "your pum pum bring life ! your tight pum pum bring life !" While holding y’all daughter.

"You’ve got so much hair my love ! Yeah, you’re so pretty.."

@ melosliving 2025

[darlinluxx]

love your writing, so scrumptious and poetic🥰 i love a fellow saebyeok fangirl😩🩷

what do you think about a short fic about the reader slowly becoming friends with saebyeok who works at the local convenience store. like this bubbly kinda awkward girl just doesn’t get the hint the saebyeok doesn’t wanna talk and ends up wearing her down over time til they become friends and start to develop feelings😌

i’d love to see it, keep up the amazing work!

love koogiie 🍓

𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐑 | 𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐀𝐄 𝐁𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐊 ౨ৎ

pairing : saebyeok x fem!reader

fluff

warnings : mentions of smoking, mentions of small injuries

a/n : thank u so much !! your comments are the sweetest <3

if you have any requests, feel free to message me <3

𝐓he bell above the door jingles, a familiar sound that barely registers anymore. it’s late, past midnight, and the fluorescent lights of the convienne store hum a lonely tune. you’re restocking the ramen shelves, humming along to the song playing from the tiny speaker behind the counter, when you see her.

she’s tall and thin, with a haunted look in her eyes that seem to absorb the harsh glow. she moves with a strange grace, like a stray cat who knows every alleyway in the city. it’s Saebyeok, and she’s a regular, though “regular” feels too casual for someone who exudes such a guarded energy. she always comes in late, grabs a pack of cigarettes, and maybe a drink, usually without a word.

your heart does a little flip, a nervous flutter you’ve come to recognize. she’s intriguing, in a way that makes your palms sweat a little. you push a stray strand of hair behind your ear, and, despite all your better judgment, you decide to be friendly.

“late night, huh?” you chirp, your voice a little too high-pitched. you flash her a wide, hopefully not creepy smile.

she doesn’t smile back. or even look at you, really. she grabs a pack of cigarettes, pays, and walks towards the door.

“have a good night!” you call after her, your voice tinged with a bit of embarrassment.

you tell yourself she didn’t hear you, but the truth is, she heard. she’s just not interested.

the next night, she’s back. same time, same kind of cigarettes. you tell yourself you’ll play it cool, be nonchalant, but the moment you see her you’re back to your usual, bubbly self.

“hey! how’s it going?” you ask, leaning on the counter as you try to look cool. you are desperately failing. “anything interesting happen today?”

she doesn’t answer. she doesn’t even make eye contact. she just grabs her things, pays, and leaves.

okay, you think. maybe she’s just not a talker. but you’re stubborn. and maybe, just a little, you’re drawn to her quiet mystery.

you make a point of learning her usual order. you start stocking her favorite brand of cigarettes by the register so they’re easier for her to grab. you’ve even started leaving out a small bag of her favorite chips, just in case she wants them. you leave it on the counter, a silent offering.

she ignores it at first. then, one night, as she’s leaving, you see her glance at the bag. for the briefest moment, you think you see a flicker of something in her eyes that isn’t cold indifference.

it’s a small victory, but it fuels you. you keep talking to her, babbling about your day, your annoying coworkers, the latest tv show you’re obsessed with. she doesn’t respond for the most part, but sometimes, just sometimes, you notice a subtle shift in her posture, a tiny twitch of her lips. she’s listening. you know it.

one rainy night, you’re both the only ones in the store as you mop the floors. Saebyeok comes in, her usually stoic face looking even more pale in the dim lighting. she’s soaking wet, her hair plastered to her forehead. you see a small scrape on her hand that you know she’s probably too proud to care for.

“oh my god, you’re drenched!” you blurt out. you quickly grab a clean towel from behind the counter. “here, you gotta dry off.” you offer it to her.

she hesitates, then slowly takes the towel. you watch her awkwardly pat her hair, her movements surprisingly delicate. for a moment, the walls you always see her putting up seem to waver.

“you should probably clean that,” you say, pointing to the graze on her hand. you reach for the first aid kit.

she raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t refuse as you dab antiseptic on the scratch, bandaging it gently. you feel your face flush as you work.

“thank you.” she murmurs, her voice barely audible, but it’s the first time you’d ever heard it.

it’s quiet, but that small thank you is enough. you beam at her. this is a progress, a breakthrough.

over time, the silence that once surrounded Saebyeok starts to feel less like a wall and more like a quiet understanding. she doesn’t talk much, but she’ll occasionally meet your gaze, a slight curve to her lips as you tell another story. you catch her watching you as you dance along to the music while restocking shelves. she starts grabbing a soda along with her cigarettes, and she sometimes even accepts the bag of chips you leave out. you start to feel a warmth settle in your chest whenever she comes in.

one night, she stays a little longer. you’re closing up, counting the till, and she leans against the counter, watching you.

“why?” she asks, her voice low.

“why what?” you ask, confused.

“why are you so…” she trails off, searching for the right word. “nice?”

your heart clenches at the question. “i don’t know,” you admit with a nervous laugh, “you just seem like you need a friend.”

a small, almost imperceptible smile appears on her face.

“maybe.” she whispers, her eyes meeting yours.

that night, you realize something has shifted. it’s not just a friendship that you’re forging with this quiet, guarded woman. there’s something else, a pull, a connection that leaves you breathless and a little scared. your heart skips a beat, the same little nervous flip, but this time, it’s joined by a slow, burning warmth. it’s something you can’t deny, something you desperately hope she feels too. and she does, but she won’t tell you that. you catch her gaze, and the look in her dark eyes sends a shiver down your spine. you’re not just friends anymore. and maybe, that’s exactly what you’ve both been hoping for.