#One Big Meaning Stamp Set

[rafeandonlyrafe]

orange peel theory (dark! and soft!rafe)

words: 1k (about 500 words each)

warnings: name calling, suggestive

orange peel theory: girlfriends ask their boyfriend to peel an orange for them, as a test to see if they are willing to help with small tasks that the girlfriend can do herself

dark

you quickly set your phone in a discreet spot, already recording as you move back to your chair, pretending to be reading your book as rafe walks in.

“what are you doing?” rafe questions, looking at you with concern, not sure if he’s ever seen you read before.

“nothing.” you shake your head, shutting the book and setting it down, glancing at your phone to make sure it is still recording. “how was work?”

“fucking tiring. dealing with idiots all day.” rafe spits the words out before toeing his shoes off and leaving them in the center of the room.

“im sorry.” you pout, standing up as rafe takes a seat on the edge of the bed. you move to stand in between his thighs, pressing a kiss to his lips. he sighs with satisfaction, wrapping his hands around the back of your thighs, rubbing over them, tucking his fingertips under your shorts to feel your bare skin.

“can you get me an orange rafe? i’m craving one.” you move away from him, setting back on your chair to make sure you are centered in the camera.

rafe gives you a confused look but nods, mainly because he also needs to get a glass of water for himself. he re-enters the room, tossing the orange towards you, which you catch easily.

“thanks.” you smile as rafe takes a sip of water and then sets it on the nightstand. “can you peel it for me though babe?”

“what?” he questions, moving to kneel between your legs, an amused look on his face. “my stupid little slut not able to peel it on her own? too much of a baby?” “rafey.” you whine as he takes the orange out of your hand, unpeeling it and tossing the peel into the trash. he pulls a piece and then hovers it in front of your mouth.

“open up whore, i know how much you love to do that.” rafe taunts you before you lean forward, taking the slice of orange into your mouth and pulling it out of his fingers, letting the citrusy taste flood your mouth.

“you are so mean, this was supposed to be for tiktok.” you point out your phone, making rafe turn to look at the screen opened and recording.

“what?”

“for tiktok, its some trend about asking your boyfriend to peel an orange for you to see if he will do small tasks for you, and you totally failed!” you whine, stamping your feet on the ground in annoyance.

“but i peeled the orange for you.” rafe says with confusion.

“while also calling me a stupid whore!” you stand up, grabbing your phone and stopping the recording, knowing you won’t put it on tiktok.

“are you not my dumb little slut?” rafe asks, standing and stepping close to you, hovering over with his intimidating height.

“i mean i am, but-”

“exactly.” rafe cuts you off, pressing his lips against yours as he backs you up towards the bed.

soft

you quickly set your phone in a discreet spot, already recording as you move back to your chair, pretending to be reading your book as rafe walks in.

“hey baby.” rafe leans down and gives you a kiss on the top of your head, which you quickly tilt up to have him press a second one to your lips.

“how was work?” you ask, setting your book to the side, glancing at your phone to make sure its still recording.

“exhausting.” rafe sighs, rubbing his hand over his face, making you pout.

“im sorry bubs.” you comment as he sits down on the bed to take his work shoes off. 

“no big deal. how was your day?” rafe asks.

“good…” you shrug. you usually go into more detail, and rafe knows it, so he sits quietly, waiting for you to continue. “but i’m actually really hungry.” you blurt out, figuring you shouldn’t delay any longer as you look at your phone again, lucky that rafe doesn’t follow your line of sight.

“what are you hungry for? we can order delivery.” rafe knows you like to cook, but he also doesn’t force it on you, leaving the option to get takeout open whenever you are tired or simply don’t feel like cooking.

“i actually just want an orange.” you shrug.

“thats not really food, darling, but okay.” rafe stands, setting his shoes on the rack next to the door before heading out of the bedroom towards the kitchen.

you can’t help smiling at the camera as you wait, covering your mouth as rafe reenters, already knowing that he’s going to pass the test.

“here ya go.” rafe hands you a bowl instead of an orange, making your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion, before you take it and realize that the orange is already peeled and pulled apart, ready for you to enjoy.

“raaafe.” you whine.

“what?” rafe kneels down in front of your chair, placing his hands on your knees.

“i wanted a whole orange.” you complain, pouting your lower lip out as rafe looks at you in complete confusion.

“why, were you gonna eat the peel or something?” rafe laughs.

“no, its supposed to be a thing for tiktok.” you point towards your phone, which takes rafe a second to see from its hidden position. “you’re supposed to bring me an orange and i ask you to peel it to see if you’ll help me with a small task.”

“should i bring you back a whole orange then so you can ask?” rafe questions.

“no, i don’t even really want an orange to be honest.” you admit. rafe looks down into the bowl, taking a piece and putting it into his mouth, chewing it up. 

“what do you want then honey?”

“can you get me a banana?” you tilt your head to the side. rafe nods, grabbing the bowl from your lap before heading back to the kitchen.

you grab your phone and set it closer. “he’s just too good of a boyfriend.” you sigh as rafe comes back through the door, handing you a banana.

you smile at him in thanks, taking it out of his hand before he leans to press a kiss to your cheek, glancing at the camera, still recording when you realize how you can still test the theory.

“peel it for me babe?”

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @rafecamerongirl @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie

[mandarinmoons]

What about Reid with a ballerina spouse (gn or fem) I don’t really have any idea for it other than Spencer has kept the relationship a secret from the team but they’ve been kind of suspicious and find out some how? Maybe the kind of spy on him and see him going into one of her shows and at the end of the show they see him kissing her or something

“I gotta get going guys, see you all tomorrow!”

“Wait wait, hold on now. What’s got you in such a hurry?”

Derek watched as Spencer quickly put away the files on his desk and threw his satchel over his shoulder, he seemed awfully eager to leave.

“Oh uh… The library’s closing earlier than usual today and there’s this one book I really want to read, so gotta go before it closes. Bye!”

Spencer strode off leaving the rest of the team very confused. They noticed that Spencer’s been leaving earlier than usual and he always had a different excuse.

“I have a dentist appointment.”

“I have to go and get more postage stamps before the post office closes.”

He had used nearly every excuse in the book and knowing his brain capacity, he’d probably never run out of them.

“Penelope, can you-”

“Already on it my love and… it’s false, he’s definitely hiding something.”

“Anybody up for a stake out?”

Derek and Penelope turned their heads at Emily, both of their eyebrows knitted together at the suggestion thrown out.

“Prentiss, you’re serious?”

“C’mon, aren’t you curious? Reid’s never one to shy away from talking about something.”

“That is true.”

“Oh, c’mon Derek! We’ll be super discreet! We can even dress in all black and be like spies!”

Derek turned his head at Penelope and chuckled over the excitement he saw in Penelope’s eyes.

“Garcia, we're the FBI.”

“I know, but I’ve always loved those spy sequences in movies.”

Both Emily and Derek laughed at Penelope’s excitement over the idea of having a stakeout over one of their friends. It really wasn’t like Spencer to not tell them about something, everyone on the team was like a family and they were usually some of the first people on the know about big news.

A couple of hours later after Penelope managed to track down Spencer’s location through his phone, the team were surprised when they ended up at a theater.

Looking around the area, they spotted a poster for the upcoming show that was set to start in 10 minutes, the show in question? A performance of Swan Lake.

“Why would Spencer come to see a ballet performance?”

“I think I know why.”

Turning their heads, Emily and Derek look over to Penelope and see her motion to Spencer and an unfamiliar woman with him. The two of them seem to be talking and laughing, but not in just a friendly manner. Spencer’s hand held onto the woman’s lightly and his thumb brushed over her knuckles, a sign of something more than just friendship. The woman seemed to get called to get into her position, but before she turned to leave she pressed a quick kiss to Spencer’s lips and hurried off, leaving Spencer smiling like a fool.

“My man.”

Spencer jumped in his shoes when he heard Derek’s voice. He turned around and saw the grinning faces of his coworkers walking over to him.

“What’re you guys doing here?”

“We had some suspicions, so we bit the bullet and decided to check up on you.”

“And by “check up” you mean follow me?”

The three of them looked at each other, slightly embarrassed at their decision, but were met with Spencer chuckling a moment later.

“You guys are impossible.”

“So who was that pretty lady?”

“Y/N, we met at a coffee shop a few months ago and we’ve been on a few dates. It’s been going pretty well.”

“And she’s a ballerina?”

“Yeah, she’s amazing! I’ve seen her rehearse and this is the second show of hers I’m seeing.”

“If she’s really that good then we gotta see it.”

Penelope flew to buy the tickets, clearly very excited to see the new talent perform. As they all got to their seats and the lighting dimmed, everyone watched the performance with excitement, waiting for your turn.

When the performance ended, you were surprised to see a group of people following Spencer along. One of the ladies, who seemed very eager, walked up to you and gushed about the performance you put on.

“You were so graceful! I haven't seen such light movement in, well, ever!”

The woman’s compliments, who’s name turned out to be Penelope as you made out from the rest of the guests, went straight to your heart.

The other visitors, whose names were Emily and Derek, complimented you on your performance as well, but all your attention was on the man behind them who had an adoring smile on his face, one that was clearly directed at you.

“I wasn’t aware Spencer invited you along.”

“He didn’t. We got curious because he’s been a bit suspicious lately and had to see what was causing it.”

“I mean I knew you all worked for the FBI but I didn’t know you were that nosey.”

Everyone laughed at the comment which made you feel a bit more welcomed along with them.

“What can we say, some things you just can’t help but be curious about.”

Taglist: @radioactiveinvisible @whoisspence @sreidisms @lanascinnamongirls @luvkatryna @sp3ncelle @iluvreid @khxna @keiva1000 @reidstheyfriend @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @kimm4710 @niktwazny303 @reidsdaisies @mindfullycriminal @cumulo-stratus @gayfor-rosadiaz @gubsbuubs @multifandomsimp69 @chyozai @deppfanatic @potatovoyager @indyvelazquez @nini123 @justlivinginadaydream @kers505 @dan-the-womans-blog

Notice: I am no longer adding people into my taglist and will be discontinuing it soon so if you'd like to be kept up to date with my future works then please follow me x

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[bunny-jpeg]

Hi Bunny!! This is kind of a big order…May I please have an earl grey + Margarita + cranberry juice + mocha coffee + sticky toffee pudding + Belgian waffles served by Mark Webber?

P.S Your writing is just BRILLIANT

bakery menu

want to have your own order? then hit up the menu! there are tons of items to choose from and i love doing these! so thank you for those who ordered, and i hope you love this! (i've never written mark webber before, but i do have more requests in my inbox that i might take a look at ;))

belgian waffles: "i cum in that every night." + sticky toffee pudding: "the only way this is ending is you getting pregnant." + earl grey: big cock + margarita: unprotected sex + cranberry juice: mean!character + mocha coffee: breeding kink served by mark webber (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, age gap (20/29), rookie driver!reader, mean!mark (but he has the capacity to be nice), breeding kink, set in '05/'06, unprotected sex

2005

a twenty-nine year old mark webber had just met his wife, the rookie, almost ten years his junior. that was what you'd be known to mark as for the rest of your days. the rookie, his rookie.

it started a small affair, you weren't too sure how mark got under your skin so perfectly. maybe it was because a lot of these drivers were so chauvinistic, patronizing to the point where it made you seem like you were so much smaller. mark wasn't soft with you. and that extended both on and off the track.

"i can't believe you said that to both kimi and michael!" you snapped when mark got into your hotel room. his arms around you. that was what thing he liked about you. he couldn't very well pick up other drivers the way he could with you.

"what i said wasn't that bad, beautiful." he groped your ass through your jeans, "you're being so sensitive."

"i cum in that every night." you shot back, "why don't i wear a big stamp across my ass that says "webber's slut!"

he perked up a little bit, "will you."

you fisted the front of his shoulder and made a face at him, "of course i won't!" then pressed his forehead against yours, "i can't believe you did that." then pulled away, "you shouldn't have even come over."

"well if i didn't how could i cum in you?" he questioned as he got closer, "don't be so mad, beautiful. you don't look good when you're frowning." he beamed at you, "plus. it could've been so much worse. i could've said, the only way this is ending is you getting pregnant."

you made a face, "don't joke about that." then watched mark grab your wrist. there was a pull to him that allowed him further into your hotel room and onto the bed.

his hands pushed up your tank top, "feelin' good as always." he chuckled as his lips touched your pulse as he got you onto your back. soon he got your jeans off, followed by everything else you wore. and you pulled at his t-shirt off his back.

"you are a menace."

"ah, but you love me." he smirked, "you love when i come into your hotel room and make a mess of your pussy. i know the accent gets to you, i know you think about me all day."

"hard not to when you're ego fills up entire rooms." you raked your nails down his back and he groaned a little before he pulled you into a heated kiss. you melted a little bit. damn webber.

both naked on your hotel room while the city was alive outside. you raked your fingers through his shirt dark hair and the kisses continued. legs tangled up in one another, you felt a pull towards him. as you always did.

he rubbed his bare cock up against you and it wasn't until the kiss broke that he was able to get himself ready to fuck you properly. after all, you only deserved the best. he smirked, "you look better on your back than in a car." he got your legs up to his chest and managed to slip his cock into you.

the feeling left him with a small shudder, the sparks in his brain lit up when he got himself to the base. always took him so beautifully. he looked down at you as he held your hips. he pressed his cock up inside of you, he watched your expressions as he moved.

"fuck, webber."

"i got you, rookie. you like when i'm like this to you. those other drivers treat you like shit. but also like glass. oh, you can't hurt the girl. you can't get aggressive with her. but, i like being aggressive with you. how you bite back at me. you're not a docile puppy." but then as he sucked a mark onto your collarbone, "but then again, neither am i."

you moaned and arched your back. you clung onto the covers under your body. the cheap hotel sheets that mark was fucking you into. he curved over you and kissed you passionately. the kisses were vicious, rough in a way that left you squirming. his words were in your head.

"fuck, webber." your back arched as you felt the hear radiate through your body. and you swore you could feel mark's heartbeat, even though he wasn't chest to chest with you.

he continued to rut against you, his cock dragged across your more sensitive parts which made you moan a little louder. soon your nails dug into his shoulders, scratching across his strong back.

"i love how you say my name. maybe if you play your cards right it'll be your name one day." he continued to fuck you, he pushed into you as much as he could. he wanted to make sure that you felt it all. you may be the upcoming star on the track, but mark was more than happy to take you apart every night. make you feel better than any rush of the race.

maybe it was because he was painfully in love with you.

his pace quickened as he felt closer to orgasm. he could feel the thump of his heartbeat in the back of his mind as he felt the urge to climax weigh heavy on him. his mouth continued to run until you pulled him in closely and kissed him all over the mouth.

his lips were bright red by the time you were done with him. you clung to him tightly as you came first. your cunt tight around his cock as he continued to fuck you passionately. his pace became uneven as he yearned for his own climax, he could feel the rush of blood to his cock and the light-headed feeling as he kept fucking you.

"that's my rookie. all mine." he said with a hint of tenderness. not enough to inflate your ego. he gave it a few more thrusts of his hips before he kept all of himself inside of you. it felt good doing it bare, it also left you flustered. naughty girl.

"fuck, webber."

"keep saying that and you might get a ring soon." he teased as he pulled out, which made you groan.

you laid in each other's embrace. you allowed him to hold your hand the way lovers did. it was tender, it was nice. it was certainly not horrible. maybe to love mark webber wouldn't be horrible.

2006

"mark alan webber." you snarled as you threw the plastic pregnancy test at his head. the plastic hit him right in the forehead, "you son of a bitch!" you were shaking, you had tears in your eyes as you threw yourself at him.

but he caught you and held you to his chest. he kissed the top of your head, "no reason to that, beautiful." he swayed you a little from side to side, "we'll figure it out. you, me and baby." mark webber was a mean man, he easily bullied his little rookie.

"you ended my career. on purpose" you grumbled.

he rubbed your back, "yeah, it took me a year to get you pregnant to wipe out my only real competition. my second choice was fernando."

you looked up at him and swallowed back some of the sadness, "mark... shut up." and were met with kisses. you tried not to laugh, even with the sadness in your stomach.

mark hated to see you cry, at least in a context whe he wasn't bullying your poor cunt. it broke his heart. to see you in such a fragile state clicked something in his brain. he held onto you tightly while you cried. you two were terrors to each other, mostly mark towards you. but, you'd make this work. and mark, despite everything, would not make you do it alone. <3

[woso-dreamzzz]

Practice

Hardersson x Teen!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You need to practice

On the weekend, when you don't have games and you've finished all your homework, you have a kick about in the garden.

Or, rather, Momma and Morsa had a kick around and you save their shots.

Momma's better at shooting than Morsa but Morsa does better headers so it all evens out you suppose.

Either way, you get practice and they get exercise.

It's a win-win.

You're doing well with your academy training but not well enough. Since the time you rejected Germany's offer to have you play for their youth teams, no one else had called you up.

Not Denmark.

Not Sweden.

Some of your peers at Academy training had wormed their ways onto the youth teams, even for just one call up.

But you hadn't.

You don't know what you're doing wrong. You don't know why you're not good enough.

What you do know is that you want to be on those teams. Those teams are stepping stones to get to the senior team and the senior team is the road to joining the big clubs.

The European giants that you so desperately want to play for.

Wolfsburg is your destination, in big blinding lights in your head.

You want to play for Wolfsburg. You want to dominate the German League with them and, hopefully, the Champion's League as well.

But Wolfsburg won't look twice at you if you aren't on Sweden or Denmark's senior team.

Hence why you're practicing now, saving shot after shot after shot in your fancy new gloves, standing in the new goal set up in your garden after a drunk Morsa stumbled into your old one and broke it.

Another shot streaks past your outstretched hands and you kick your goalpost angrily, rolling the ball from out of your net and back to Momma.

"You're not defending properly!" You tell Morsa, arms crossed over your chest," You keep letting her win!"

Morsa laughs, like she can't see how important this is to you. "We're just playing around, princesse."

"We're not! I'm practicing!"

"Take it easy. It's not the be all end all."

"It is!"

You stamp your foot and Morsa laughs again, fondly ruffling your hair and you want to scream.

"You're not at training, princesse. It isn't that serious."

"It is!"

"It isn't."

"Magda," Momma says warningly," Leave her alone."

"Pernille!"

Momma grabs the ball and starts dribbling.

Morsa still isn't taking it that seriously, making a few attempts at getting the ball again but ultimately leaving Momma enough room to take another shot.

You catch it this time, falling to the ground to hold it against your body like Zećira has always taught you.

You stay on the ground for a while, drawing big deep breaths into your lungs.

Pernille sits in front of you, nudging you gently with her foot. "What's going on, huh? What's got you all high strung?"

You huff and mumble," I don't want to talk about it."

"You're not usually this short with us," Pernille says," Talk to me. What's going on?"

"It's stupid."

"If it's upsetting you then I don't think it is."

"Everyone else has been called up for the youth teams," You let the rest of your words go unspoken.

"You'll get there," Magda says, still standing nearby," It'll happen eventually."

"I don't want it eventually! I want it now! Everyone else has been called up! Everyone else is getting game time with the youth teams!"

"People develop at different times," Pernille's trying to soothe you, to talk you off the ledge," It's perfectly okay to not be going to camps the same time as everyone else."

"I should have accepted Germany's offer when I had the chance!" You say and that's when Magda and Pernille know you're being serious about this.

"Just because everyone else is going doesn't mean that you're a worse player," Pernille says to you," You shouldn't measure yourself against them."

You sit up. "Whatever." You grab the ball, angrily booting it all the way to the other end of the garden. "I told you it was stupid."

"Princesse-"

You move to go back inside.

"Come here," Magda says.

You ignore her.

"Don't ignore me! Come here!"

She's using her captain voice, the one she used to use when she played for Sweden. You know better than to ignore her now.

You stand in front of her, looking up.

"You worth is not reliant on whether or not you get into the youth teams."

You scoff. "Maybe not to you."

"Princesse-"

"But don't lie and say big clubs don't start picking out future players from the moment they lay eyes on them. No one watches random youth team matches at club level, not really. But they do watch it at international level. I know that. You know that."

"I know that," Magda echoes," But you have all the time in the world."

"Do I?" You say," Do I really?"

"You're fourteen. You have so much time."

You look away. "No, I don't."

You're growing up now, shooting up like a weed but Pernille's still taller than you, still tall enough to rest her chin on the top of your head and hug you from behind.

"Tell me what you need, princesse. What do you want out of this?"

"I want to be the best. I want you to help me be the best."

"Okay," Pernille says," We'll help you be the best."

[corroded-hellfire]

Hii I love your work I was wondering I have a request for a AYW blurb/side story. I'm inspired by the hockey game I just went to

So let's say luke is in college or in high-school and he has hid first game and reader gets mildly anxious that he gets hurt and eddie reassures her everything going to be okay and he wins and they all go out to dinner.

Idk just something fluffy.

Thank you

Hockey?! Now you're speaking my language. I can't believe I never thought of Luke playing hockey before. Thank you for putting this in my brain!

Words: 2.5k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Magenta painted toes curl inside your thick, fluffy socks. The little girl who applied the shiny polish the other day stands on the metal bleacher, between you and your husband. Her little knees bend and straighten as she bounces up and down, two curly pigtails bobbing along with the motion below the soft pink beanie on her head. 

“Let’s go, Luke!” Eliza cheers. Small brown boots stamp on the metal surface below her as she claps her mitten-clad hands.

Eddie chuckles from the other side of her, one arm hovering around her small frame in case she loses her balance. The hockey game hasn’t even started yet and Eliza is ready to hand her big brother the MVP award. 

The chill from the ice rink soaks into your skin even through the layers of your long-sleeved tee and jacket. Your gloves seem to do nothing to keep your fingers from turning into icicles, so you tuck your hands between your thighs, hoping the body warmth can thaw them out. 

“You okay, babe?” Eddie asks, leaning back to look at you around your four-year-old. 

The nod you give isn’t convincing, even to yourself. You couldn’t be prouder of Luke for making the Hawkins High School hockey team as a freshman, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t worried about him getting hurt. The fresh batch of pregnancy hormones coursing through your system isn’t helping matters either. 

An obnoxious buzzer blares from the speakers on the wall as the scoreboard sets itself down to all zeroes. The crowd full of families and friends starts cheering as the two teams pour out onto the ice. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Eliza become airborne and you look to see Eddie lifting her over his lap so she’s standing in between him and Ryan instead of him and you. A steady arm wraps around you, and you gladly lean into your husband’s embrace.

“He’s going to be fine,” Eddie tells you.

“I know.”

“Yeah? Because you look like you’re about to storm onto the ice and drag Luke home by the collar of his jersey.”

You release a deep sigh and try to get your tense shoulders to relax. 

“He’s played sports before,” you say, sounding more like you’re convincing yourself than the man next to you. “Baseball, basketball. But this is different.”

“Why’s that?” Eddie knows exactly what’s different–it’s your usual protective Mama Bear energy enhanced tenfold due to your fluctuating hormone levels. But he isn’t dumb enough to come out and say that—again.

“Because,” you huff. “Now there are blades and sticks and boards he could be slammed into or ice he can fall down on.”

Eddie rubs his hand up and down your shoulder. It helps both comfort you and warm you up. 

“There are sticks in baseball,” he points out. “They’re just called ‘bats.’ And he’s fallen and skinned his knees both running the bases and on the basketball court. As for being slammed into the boards?” Eddie lets out a breathy chuckle. “That would be nothing compared to having little She-Hulk over here as a sister.”

You let out a small giggle, peeking around your husband to see Eliza enthusiastically shaking Ryan’s shoulder, pointing to where number 86 is out on the ice, warming up.

“I guess that goes for any hockey fights, too,” you say.

“See? Now you’re getting it.” Eddie smiles fondly at you and places a kiss against your temple.

A referee blows a whistle and both you and Eddie watch as the two teams take their places for the first face-off of the game. 

Luke’s best friend Sean skates up to the blue line, right in the center and ready to battle for the puck. Next to his number 19 jersey is Luke to his side as the right winger. The referee drops the puck and the game begins. 

Both your and Eddie’s eyes are glued to your son as play moves around the ice. Your gazes follow him up the ice and back down before he hops onto the bench for a shift change. Without her brother now to focus on, Eliza comes up with a new way to entertain herself: a cheer.

“Let’s go, Tigers!” Clap, clap, clap, clap, clap.

It only takes two turns of her cheering before the home crowd joins in, leaving the little girl beaming, proud to have started the trend. She’s no stranger to different cheers for the team; whenever Luke plays basketball, Eliza only cares to focus on the cheerleaders doing their routines on the sidelines. Ryan tends to pay a lot of attention to them too, but for different reasons. By now, Eliza could probably mimic most of Hawkins High’s cheerleading repertoire. 

A few minutes later, Luke hops back on the ice and you feel the nerves flutter in your stomach. It’s a very different, and distinctly more unpleasant, feeling than the fluttering of having a baby in there. 

“He’s okay,” Eddie murmurs to you, just loud enough to be heard over the din of the rink. 

You nod, but slip your hand into his for reassurance, nonetheless. 

“Mama?” Eliza crawls over her father’s lap, clearly not paying attention to where her bony little limbs are jabbing him, and reaches out to you. “I gotta go potty.”

A battle of emotions collide in your head as you nod and offer your hand to her. One part of you is thankful to get a small distraction from the game, your eyes able to relax instead of seeking out Luke’s constant presence. The other part of you is worried that something will happen while you’re not there, though. As if him getting a hard cross check from an opposing player wouldn’t have occurred if you were still in your seat. 

The ladies’ room is mildly warmer than the rest of the rink, and you lean on the outside of the stall door that Eliza goes into.

“You okay by yourself in there?” you ask.

“Mhmm! Wait. Can you hold my mittens?”

Once the stall door is relocked, you slip the pink mittens into your jacket pocket and listen as Eliza begins to hum a tune to herself. It’s difficult to tell at first, but you’re able to identify the song as I’ll Make a Man Out of You from Mulan. 

After Eliza finishes up, washes her hands, and slips her mittens back on, the two of you step out of the restroom. Before you’re able to take two steps in the direction of your seats, a horn blares, signaling a goal.

Eliza gasps and quickly tugs on the hem of your jacket because she’s too small to see what’s going on over the wall. You scoop her up and the two of you stand at the glass, near the net that was just scored upon. Both of you cheer when you see that it was the Tigers who got the first goal. Luke is sitting on the bench on the other side of the ice though, so you know he wasn’t the one who scored it. 

When the two of you get back to your seats, the first period is coming to an end. Eliza settles comfortably in her father’s lap and tilts her head to look up at him.

“What we miss?”

“Uh, Luke knocked a guy down against the wall over there.”

“Luke hit a guy into the boards,” Ryan translates into proper hockey terminology, smirking at his dad as he does so. 

“That’s what I said,” Eddie says. “And, uh, there was a penalty called on Sean for sticking a guy, so he went to sit out.”

Ryan snorts. “Sean’s stick got caught in another guy’s skates, so he got a penalty for tripping and was in the penalty box.”

“Time out!” Eliza declares. 

“Am I speaking Japanese?” Eddie asks, making Eliza giggle and curl into his lap.

“Of course not,” you assure your husband with a pat to his chest. “Just not speaking hockey either.” You giggle when he shoots a playful glare your way. But you manage to make it better by pressing a few kisses along his stubbled cheek. 

During both the first and second intermissions, Eliza entertains herself by looking for friends of Ryan’s or Luke’s in the stands and begging her oldest brother to take her to them. At one point, Eliza spots Ryan’s more-than-friend-not-quite-girlfriend-yet, Hannah, a few rows back and quickly makes her way up to her. Ryan’s face blooms scarlet as he follows behind his little sister, who has made herself comfortable in Hannah’s lap.

“Did you see Lukey?” Eliza asks the teenage girl. 

“I did!” Hannah says, smiling at Ryan as he takes a seat next to her.

Eddie leans in, his breath tickling your ear. “Do you think Eliza will ask Hannah to go out with Ryan before he gets around to it?”

You agree with a soft giggle and nod. 

“Oh, absolutely. Ryan’s so nervous and Eliza doesn’t have the patience for that,” you say. “God help any boy who is slow to ask her out in high school.”

Strong hands grab your sides, thick fingers digging into your ribs as your husband tickles you. A small yelp escapes your lips before you turn and burrow your head into Eddie’s neck.

“Hush your mouth,” Eddie murmurs. “Eliza isn’t going to date until she’s thirty.”

“Good luck with that.” You laugh and playfully shove his hands away from you.

Just as the third period is about to begin, Eliza and Ryan make their way back towards the two of you on the bleachers. Ryan has a lovesick smile on his face and the sight makes you smile in return.

“Have fun with the big kids?” Eddie asks as Eliza plops down next to him.

“Mhmm,” she nods, brown eyes scanning the ice for where Luke is. “Hannah say she likes my hat. And Juan said Mama is really cute.”

“What?” Eddie asks, arm immediately encircling you. “Who?”

“Ryan’s friend.” Eliza waves a dismissive hand in the boy’s direction, her focus still on the ice.

Eddie goes to look over his shoulder but you quickly grip his chin between your thumb and forefinger and bring his gaze back to meet yours.

“Really?” you ask him quietly. It’s impossible to suppress the amused smile on your lips. “Are you going to stare down a sixteen-year-old boy?”

“I don’t need a younger man hitting on my wife,” he says.

You laugh, shaking your head at his ever-present jealousy. 

“I don’t know if you noticed,” you say, “but I like older men. And no one is hitting on me.”

“Yet,” Eddie says, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Shoot it, Luke!”

Ryan’s shout refocuses your and Eddie’s attention back on the game in front of you. Luke stick handles the puck past a defenseman and skates closer to the opposing team’s net. You hold your breath as you watch Luke wind back his stick and slap the puck to the five-hole, between the goalie’s pads. Time moves in slow motion as you watch the black rubber disc travel over the goal line.

The siren blares and you stand up, raising your arms in the air as you cheer for your son.

“That’s my boy!” Eddie shouts, cupping his hands around his mouth.

“That’s my brotherrrrrr!” Eliza mimics.

Ryan hoots and hollers as you clap enthusiastically, a huge smile on your face. 

The other Tigers hockey players on the ice skate over to Luke, either tapping him on the leg or ass with their stick or knocking their helmet against his. 

The PA system overhead crackles to life before a student announcer says, “Goal scored by number eighty-six, Luke Munson!”

The crowd cheers, punctuated by a certain little girl’s shrill “Yay!” 

“Assisted by number nineteen, Sean Lowery, and number four, Alex Duffy!”

“Yay, Sean!” Eliza yells.

Luke’s goal ends up being the game-winning goal, which causes his team to pile on top of him once the game is over. 

“They’re going to hurt him,” you mumble as you stand up from the bleachers.

Eddie rolls his eyes, not unkindly, from his seat—he knows you won’t be able to see him since you’re standing. Your husband rises to his feet and presses a kiss to your temple.

“He’s fine, princess.”

He is, of course, and you’re glad to see it for yourself when he comes out of the locker room. A beaming smile adorns his face as he bounds towards the four of you, his curls soaked with sweat and his heavy gear bag thrown over his shoulder. 

“Did you see it?” he asks excitedly.

“See it?” Eddie repeats, eyebrows raising. “Didn’t you hear us?”

“I heard someone,” Luke teases, tugging Eliza’s pink beanie down over her eyes.

She huffs and quickly pushes it back up, giving her big brother one of her signature unamused glares. 

“I’m so proud of you!” You take Luke’s face, flushed from all the exertion, between your hands and press kisses over his sticky-with-dried-sweat face.

“Gross,” Ryan mumbles.

Misinterpreting why Ryan thinks the display of emotion is gross, Eliza turns to her oldest brother with her hands on her hips.

“Kisses not gross!” She hops up and down, making fish lips, like she’s trying to jump up to his level to give him kisses.

“Um, some kisses are gross,” Luke says once you’ve finished. When Eliza looks over at him, Luke’s eyes dart back and forth between you and Eddie. 

“Prepare to be disgusted then,” Eddie says, slipping one arm around your back and pulling your front flush up against his. He grins at you before lowering his head to slot his lips over yours.

“Ugh!” “Ew!” “Stooooop!”

You laugh against Eddie’s mouth, and the two of you break apart, sharing an amused look.

“Alright, goblins,” Eddie says, throwing his arm around your shoulders. “Let’s get going.”

The five of you start moving toward the exit when you tap Luke on the shoulder.

“Where do you want to go to dinner?” you ask him.

“Why does he get to pick?” Eliza whines.

“You can pick when you get a game-winning goal,” Ryan tells her, tugging on a single curly pigtail. Eliza pouts, looking suspiciously identical to her father, and crosses her arms over her chest. 

“Uhh…” Luke muses as your family steps out into the chilly October night. “I want Chinese food. Let’s get Eliza a pu pu platter.”

“Blech!” Your daughter sticks her tongue out and shakes her head. 

“Oh God, she’s going to steal everyone’s noodles again,” Ryan sighs. 

Eliza lets out the evilest giggle you’ve ever heard come from her as you reach the car. 

“I want all the noo-noos!” she declares as she yanks the back door open. 

“I’m ordering rice then,” Luke says as he climbs in behind her.

“Boo!” Eliza calls. 

“These kids are crazy,” Ryan says with a shake of his head.

Eddie laughs and musses up Ryan’s hair. It’s harder now that Ryan is almost as tall as him. 

“Okay, let’s get this hockey celebration on the road,” Eddie says, tapping the roof of the car as he walks around to the driver’s side. 

“Burn rubber, Gretsky,” you say as you slip into the passenger’s seat.

Eddie glances at you before turning the key in the ignition.

“Who?”

“Jesus, Dad,” Ryan sighs.

[littleeyesofpallas]

So, with the new legends there's a neat way we can take a guess at some of the time frame. Although it's largely aesthetic and hard to gauge the intended historical parallels of, the not-Eiffel Tower at the center of the city could presumably have been completed in the late 1880s like the real thing. Interestingly that places it pretty concurrent to the construction of the Hokkaido Government building in the 1870s that served as the basis of the Galaxy Team HQ in the first Legends game.

But with the keywords being "urban redevelopment" the setting could only possibly be Haussman's renovation of Paris that took place from the 1850s-1920s. So given that the tower is already standing, that places Legends Z-A between 1889 and 1927.

And I doubt it would play into the setting of a Pokemon game but I think it's neat that it would mean taking place firmly in the 3rd French Republic, as that's not typically the most romanticized period of French history. (Kind of shocking given just how much Japanese pop culture loves to fixate on the Ancien Regime and Rococco architecture.) It's right at the height of the French Colonial empire and their rivalry with the British... Even if they don't address the history directly, certainly not the darker bits, I wonder if we'll see an ancestor of Rose* and some mention of Kalos and Galar's relation as a hint at the Pokemon world's equivalent of India. (Elephant, what elephant...)

*put a pin in that... Well come back to Rose later...

Also I know a lot of the stupid "leaks" that were just running with any/every rumor they could find had been talking about Celebi, despite there being no signs of it in the direct, but it's possible that the Z-A title and the fadethru of the sort of sci-fi looking city diagram into a pencil and parchment one is indicating going back in time --backwards, from Z to A, end to start.

and just so long as I'm just picking at edges of things...

The unknown are an anagram of, "POKEMON PRESENTS"(oh and the SOEYUE one at the end is just "SEE YOU") and the ""confidential"" stamp on the documents likely reads "Gokuhi" as in gokuhi[極秘]: "Top Secret," but the rest of the text doesn't seem to match either Japanese, French, or English,

Hito to POKEMON no kyouzon o yumemite[人と ポケモンの共存を夢見て]: "Dreaming of people and Pokemon's coexistence" Toshisaikaibatsu hassou MIARE CITY[都市再開発発想ミアレシティ]: "Urban Redevelopment Concept Miare City"

The obvious exception being that redacted text is clearly the romanized MIARE from the Japanese MIARE[ミアレ] and the English CITY, which is the Japanese name for what was localized as "Lumiose."

Curiously the word "Pokemon" is very clearly missing from the passage, and also in both cases there are too few "Galarian" characters for how long the phrases are in any actual language.

and finally, given some of the existing examples of handwritten Galarian in SwSh, I'm guessing the text on the big logo is as i've transcribed into the more standard Galar font, although I'm really uncertain about that second one, and a bit iffy about the big "X"s, but the little cyclone O, the V with the underbar, and the E seem certain enough.

Also there's a logo I know I remember seeing that looks like this one but I can't remember where it is or what it's associated with.... It's the logo on the Macro Cosmos power plant. Not Rose's personal logo with the stylized rose, and not the Cosmos business logo with the big star system orbital ring Cs, but the power plant in Hammerlock where you go to fight Eternatus specifically.

It would be really neat if whatever this organization is was tied back to an ancestor of Rose and Peony and the origins of Macro Cosmos somehow.

[the-iceni-bitch]

Chemical Override, Ultraviolet. You Could Be Mine Tonight…

Relationship: lawyer!amazon Natasha Romanoff x plus size!short female!reader (Big Red and Peach)

Words: ~2.3k

Summary: It’s your birthday, again, and Nat really can’t help but spoil you.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (w/w sex, strap-on use, pussy eating), established relationship, kind of idiots in love, they’re just really fucking cute, SMUT!!! NO MINORS!!!

A/N: I love them and I’ve missed them terribly. They really are so goddamn adorable.

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all my fics follow my sideblog, @the-iceni-library , and turn on notifications!

“God, do we really have to go?” You pouted at Nat while she grabbed her purse. “We could spend the day at home and do dirty stuff.”

“Baby, it’s your birthday, a big one,” she chuckled when you huffed at her, “Listen, just trust me. I know you, I know what you like. I promise you’ll have a good time. You’ve been wanting to try this place forever, right?”

“I guess…” You had, but it was always so busy, and your loving but occasionally overbearing girlfriend was probably going to make the waitstaff sing to you.

Before you had a chance to whine any more she was shoving you out the front door. At least it was a short walk, but that didn’t mean you were going to quit being a brat about this. Every time you were about to complain she would just kiss you, though. Then you would forget what you were going to make a fuss about and get pouty about that. Damn her and her ability to predict your behavior! Why couldn’t she let you be grumpy? Of course, it was always hard to stay grumpy when your gorgeous Amazon of a girlfriend was holding your hand and smiling at you like you were the whole world. You were going to give it your best shot, though. It’s not like she didn’t love you cranky ass anyway.

When you reached the restaurant you let out a loud whine, stamping your feet a few times and pouting while Nat just smiled and dragged you inside. You braced yourself for the crowd and the noise and all the shit you didn’t want to deal with on your birthday.

But it was empty. It was Friday night and one of the most popular restaurants in the city was empty.

“Nat…” you squeezed her hand when she led you to the only set table in the place. “What did you do?”

“I decided to spoil my little peach for her birthday.” She just shook her head when you sniffed at her holding your chair out for you. “C’mon sweetheart. I already gave the chef and bartender a list of what you wanted to try most so you won’t have to see anyone else except when they bring out the next dish.”

“Jesus Christ,” you were still getting used to how well this woman treated you, but looking at the smoked salmon tarts and pink cocktails you couldn’t help but smile. “Are they gonna bring all the rosé cocktails?”

“You bet your fine little ass they are,” she kissed your hand as she sat down next to you. “Just don’t get too drunk. Can’t have you falling off my dick later tonight.”

“Nat!” You slapped your hand over your mouth when you snorted and felt your Paloma go up your nose. “Will you ever stop bringing that up?”

“Not ever,” she grabbed your hand when you slapped her shoulder and kissed each of your fingers, growling playfully and nibbling on your thumb when you snuggled up to her. “Your adorable little squeal when you tumbled off the bed is forever ingrained into my memory. My little girl was just so sure she could ride the big boy.”

“Shut up,” you let her feed you a tart and scrunched up your face when she kissed your forehead. “I would’ve been fine if I was sober.”

“Whatever you say, birthday girl,” Nat took a sip of her vodka cranberry and wound her arm around your waist. “Not like you get overconfident whenever you’re drunk or anything.”

“Hey, if I can take it lying down I should be able to ride it!” When you realized how loud you were talking you were suddenly very grateful that the restaurant was empty, your face getting all kinds of hot as you took a long drink of your Paloma. “I mean, logically.”

Nat really did know you and what you liked, and it didn’t piss you off like it used to at all. You could talk to her about anything when it was just the two of you. You could laugh that stupidly loud and screechy laugh you did when she reminded you of something stupid you did that she insisted was the most adorable thing in the world. The food and the drinks tasted amazing when you weren’t feeling overwhelmed by people surrounding you. Just you and her, and goddamn you were in love with her.

“This cake is fucking ridiculous,” you giggled when she wheeled out some pink flowery monstrosity with sparklers sticking out of it. “It looks too pretty to eat.”

“But eat it we shall,” damn her being so cute and cheering while she filmed you blowing out the sparklers then helped you pull them out of your cake. “I got the dark chocolate cherry you wanted to try. So eat a slice then we’ll pack it up and take it home.”

“Well,” you beamed at her when she cut you a nice big slice. “If you insist. Holy fuck, this is soooooo good!”

You could have eaten the whole thing. You would have if Nat hadn’t made a cryptic comment about a special surprise when she started to box up the cake. As much as you loved cake, you loved surprises from your girlfriend even more. So you just kept that ridiculously goofy grin on your face while she somehow managed to both hold the box of cake and keep you from wobbling when you tried to walk home on your semi-drunk legs.

“So bubbly when you drink your little pink drinks… shit!” Nat threw her head back and laughed heartily when you pounced on her as soon as she had put the cake down once you got home. “My my, aren’t we the eager little thing?”

“Mmhm,” you kissed all over her face and made needy sounds. “Need my birthday spanks from mommy.”

“Dear lord,” she gave you another lovely laugh and then threw you over her shoulder, slapping your ass as she started carrying you up the stairs while she counted off. “One… two… three…”

By the time you had reached the master bedroom she was finished and you were so worked up you could hardly breathe. You squealed when she tossed you on the bed and tore off your dress, your face getting warm when she looked at you like she was going to eat you alive. It still gave you the butterflies in your stomach whenever she looked at you like that, you always had a little bit of trouble believing she was real and in love with you.

“Wait, where are you going?” You propped yourself up on your elbows when she was suddenly gone. “Hey, I’m naked and it’s my birthday, what the fuck, Romanoff?”

“Be a little patient, pretty peach,” your sassy retort died in your throat when she walked out of the closet wearing nothing but lacy red panties, thigh highs, and a very large black strap on you had never seen before. “You really think I would leave my best girl hanging on her birthday?”

“Hehe, nuh-uh,” you squeaked when she grabbed both of your ankles and yanked you down the bed, gasping and wiggling when she nipped at your heel before kissing her way up the inside of your leg. “Mommy…”

“Mommy knows, baby girl,” she smiled against your skin when you kicked and giggled at her sucking on the sensitive spot on the back of your knee. “We have to make sure you’re ready for mommy’s cock, peach.”

You just mumbled nonsense in response as she nibbled her way to your throbbing core. As soon as her mouth met your slit your entire body shuddered violently, your breath coming in such fast, short pants you were worried about hyperventilating. But hey, passing out when your amazing sex goddess of a girlfriend was licking your pussy would be far from a bad thing. It hadn’t even been thirty seconds and you already felt like you were right on the edge, your eyes rolling back in your head and your hips grinding against her face while she fucked your with her mouth. When she gave your swollen clit a little nibble you broke, sobbing and squirming wildly as your cunt fluttered and gushed all over her face.

As soon as you were finished she was crawling up your body and stealing what little breath you had left in your lungs with a kiss so passionate you were quite sure you were going to faint. Then she was inside you, and goddamm. You were so overwhelmed all you could do was babble incoherently and clutch at her shoulders as she drove into you over and over again.

“Such an eager little girl for mommy, aren’t you?” Nat chuckled when your only response was a hiccup as she ground against your clit. She kissed your lips again, then kissed your neck, and then she was sucking on one of your nipples and oh look at that, you came again already. “That’s it. I bet your little pussy is squeezing mommy’s cock so hard right now. You are making a mess all over mommy’s thighs right now, peach.”

How you were supposed to actually respond to her was a mystery. You were nothing but a writhing bundle of sensations at the moment, sobbing and gasping while she fucked you with that strange mix of ferocity and tenderness that made submitting to her so damn easy. The occasional glimpse of her gorgeous face hovering above you managed to break through the fuzzy haze of your vision but then the world just turned back into a warm, golden glow as she somehow managed to wring even more pleasure out of your spent body.

“Fuck!” Your third orgasm made your body spasm so hard you were almost in pain, drool leaking from the corner of your slack mouth when she kissed you and started to pull out. “No, wait… nononono, don’t go…”

“Peach, baby,” Nat chuckled when you lifted your hips to try to keep the strap inside you. “You can hardly keep your mouth closed right now, birthday girl. Mommy thinks it might be time for some aftercare.”

“But…” you gave her a cute little scowl then rolled over onto your stomach, arching your back and pushing your hips up so you could wiggle your ass just a little. “It’s my birthday. Can… can you just fuck my ass a little bit… pretty pretty please?”

“You are an insatiable little minx, Jesus Christ,” she shook her head affectionately and gave your ass a firm smack, groaning appreciatively at the jiggle of your generous curves before spreading your cheeks and spitting right on your asshole. “I’ve spoiled you, haven’t I?”

“Mmhm… fuuuuuuuck…” your eyes rolled back again when she slid her finger inside your ass, rocking your hips so you were basically fucking your own hole on her hand while she gave you a few more quick spanks. “More…”

Nat really couldn’t say no to you, smacking your ass one more time as she slid a second finger inside you. It was hard not to give you everything you wanted when you were this fucking responsive, your pussy gushing and your voice leaving you in an adorable squeak when she pushed in a third finger. She could feel your desperation in the way your insides fluttered and clenched around her digits, leaning over your perfect, soft body and kissing the back of your neck while she stretched you open. Her fingers were gone without warning but you only had a moment to mourn the loss because then she was slamming the strap inside you so hard you saw god for just a second.

You had to bite the sheets underneath you to keep from screaming like you were being murdered as she started to fuck your ass in deep, long strokes. Her teeth were digging into your shoulder, her hips were grinding against your cheeks, and your ass was so full of her dick your guts were most likely going to be permanently rearranged. Then she was touching you, her hands were everywhere and maybe you could have held out a little longer but then one of her hands was between your legs and you were lost.

“There we go… that’s it, baby girl,” Nat crooned and slammed into you one last time as you came with a shriek, rubbing your clit gently while you shuddered and wailed from pure ecstasy. “Such a perfect girl for mommy.”

She pulled out of you slowly once you had collapsed into the mattress, undoing the harness around her hips and waist quickly and tossing the toy aside before wrapping you in her arms again. You just took a few short breaths as you struggled to get yourself under control, sighing when she rolled you onto your side and held you close to her chest.

“God, that was a pretty good fucking birthday present,” you giggled when she kissed your forehead and wound your arms around her waist. “Not gonna lie, I was thinking you were going to propose when you made such a big fucking deal about this one.”

“Were you?” Nat tilted your head back with a finger under your chin and beamed at you. “It is a big birthday, peach, but I wanted today to be all about you. Besides, I don’t like surprise proposals. That’s why I’m doing it at Christmas.”

“Oh, haha,” you snorted and rolled your eyes, your throat suddenly getting tight when she just kept smiling at you like she knew something you didn’t. “Nat… Nat, say ‘haha’. Nat, don’t you fucking joke around with me right now, that’s not nice,” you felt the blood run from your face when she just kissed your forehead and stood up while murmuring about running a bath. “Nat?! Natasha?!!!”

[chososdiscordkitten]

Obsessive!Choso♡ pt 7

artist: @/drakyutown on twt

pt 6 here

content: lots of lingering touches, more mentions of kidnapping, brief manipulation, Choso reads ur diary, he STEALLLSSSS, mentions of wine, Choso has various piercings, mention of a tattoo (a.n)...... I had to step away multiple times because I kept blushing taglist: @eristi @sunaumei @ex-ria @just-pure-trash @kha-0s @iluvreinah @iamboredowo @integers @waytootiredforthisss @broccocrab @ziklope @tojicvmslut @mochipip @tojisworm-5 @animechick555 @makingtimemine @keepghostly

Obsessive!Choso who saw you yawn as he spoke. “You tired?” He asked, picking up the two plates from the table.

“Yeah-” your fingers rubbing your temple. “I haven't been able to sleep all that great these past few days.” you smiled, remembering what happened. Making the uneasy feeling form in your stomach again. Seeing him place the dishes into the sink.

You stood up, walking to the living room coffee table. Picking up the yellow envelope and placing it onto the table, seeing Choso back in his chair again.

“I got home the other day to this on the door mat.” You exhaled, sitting back down in your chair. Looking over at you as his hands reached for it. Almost asking if he could pick it up. Nodding your head yes, opening the top flap of the envelope. Pulling out the stack of photos, individually scanning each one.

Raising his eyebrows in fake surprisement. Looking over at you when you recited what he had written. “Be careful who you let into your life.” His eyes snapped to you, “He told me his wife died. And how he was always busy with work. But the time stamps on the pictures-” You defended, feeling goosebumps form on your arms.

“And I've been terrified to leave my house- I feel like I'm constantly being watched.” You smiled, trying to make it sound like no big deal. Choso’s face feigning concern. “I'm scared- that if I leave. Someone will hurt me.” you continued, ‘Someone. But not me. That's why I'm here, to protect you from the potential stalkers you could have.’ he thought, placing the photos down onto the table.

“I mean- this has to be someone close to me or to him. Close enough that they know my address and what school I go to.” you rambled, seeing his face go unchanged from the concern he plastered onto it.

“And I know it's someone nearby. This-” you picked up the yellow envelope. “It has no postage, or return address. Someone came to my house to deliver this in person.” You finished, sighing as you opened your mouth to speak again.

“I sound like a paranoid crazy person-” you laughed, seeing him crack a smile. “All I'm missing is the foil hat and I'm set.” You joked, shrinking into your seat, seeing his eyebrows furrow in thought. 

‘Intelligent, aren't you? I didn’t think you'd catch onto such small details.’ he thought, opening his mouth to speak, “No- No, you have a point.” He started, spreading the photos onto the table.

“The fact that someone-” mentally he was smiling. “Someone watched you with him.” he started, looking over at you as your face churned with anxiety.

”Watched you close enough to see your relationship with him-” his mouth let out words that made you shiver at the thought. “Someone who knows where you live, when you're not home.” confirming the thoughts you had tried so hard to push to the back of your head. 

Obsessive!Choso who hoped you remembered when he told you he worried about you getting kidnapped. You laughed, “This is like one of my worst fears.” rubbing your forehead.

“I have no idea how I'm gonna leave my house-” You smiled. Choso struggled to keep his face stern. A small grin threatened to form onto his lips when he saw you cover your head in your hands. Pulling them from your face and pressing prayer hands against your lips. Looking over at him, a smile forming on your lips in disbelief, scoffing before speaking.

“You were right.” raising your eyebrow and dropping your hands flat onto the table. “I'm going to get kidnapped and sold-” you started, half joking but trying to hide how scared you really were. “You won’t get kidnapped.” He promised, smiling and taking one of your hands into his. Looking down and seeing how large it was compared to yours, eyes catching on his chipped nail polish. 

Choso’s eyes widened, pulling away from yours and apologizing. “M’sorry- I shouldn't have-” he mumbled, feeling you reach your hand back to his. “No-” you smiled, “It's fine.” feeling his hand rest beneath yours.

“I was just looking at how your nail polish is always chipping.” His eyes looked down at his hand, squinting when he saw the polish. Feeling your fingertips drag down the top of his, gulping when you picked his hand up and examined his fingers closer. Making Choso’s cheeks flush, brushing your thumb against the nail of his pointer finger.

“It’s c-cheap-” he stuttered, feeling you brush against each finger. “It was a dollar i think-” he kept going, hearing you hum. The ridges of the chipped polish against the pads of your thumb and index finger. Grin on your face when you heard him. “I can tell.” You laughed, letting his hand go and looking at him. Now he was the one looking away from your gaze so you wouldn't see the warmth on his face. “I could redo them if you want?” you asked, seeing him pull his hands below the table.

“I just don't wanna be alone right now.” all smiles as you saw his ears turn pink.

“You're not tired?” he asked, looking to meet your gaze, seeing you nod no with a closed mouth smile. “If you want-” he murmured, seeing you exhale through your nose. Sliding the chair back and going upstairs quickly. 

Obsessive!Choso who saw a gold halo around you when you came downstairs, cotton balls, small bottle of acetone and black polish in hand. Smiling when you set everything onto the table, rolling your shoulders back when you looked at him.

Raising your eyebrows, waiting for him to present his hands. Damp cotton ball in your fingers, the other holding the palm of his hand as you rubbed the acetone in gently. Choso’s eyes going from seeing your hand hold his, to your face. Noticing how cute you looked when focusing, accidently letting his thoughts fall from his lips, quiet enough to not understand what he said, but evident enough to hear he said something.

Looking at him through your eyelashes, ‘Hm?’ you asked, stopping your motions. “Nothing.” He replied quickly, making you smile and look back down to his hand. Wincing when you reached his thumb, seeing a deep hangnail on the side.

“What happened here?” You asked, hissing as you examined it. “I get nervous sometimes-” he started, seeing you look into his eyes, “It's practically instinct now.” He smiled.

“It's gonna hurt.” You warned, holding the blackened cotton ball in your hand. “It’s okay- I’ll live.” he joked, seeing your hand hesitate to press the cotton to his thumb, eyes looking up to see if it did hurt. His face went unchanged, feeling you swipe away the cheap polish from his nail. Blowing gently onto it in hopes it wouldn't sting too much. 

For the first time in a long time, Choso didn’t think about what he'd say to you. Not conversing with you mentally, his eyes looking at you with pupils in the shape of saucers. Seeing you open the small bottle of black polish, painting it on one stroke at a time. Making sure not to get any on his skin.

Letting go of his pinkie and looking up at him, seeing he was staring. “Choso?” You murmured, eyes on his ring finger as you delicately held his hand. Hearing him hum in response. You didn't know if it was exhaustion making you speak or you just wanted to tease, “You're staring.” you hummed, not looking up from his hands but feeling him tense up.

“Sorry.” he mumbled, seeing you look up at him. His eyes unmoved from your comment. Letting go of his ring finger and dipping the brush into the bottle again.

Moving to his middle finger, a small smile on your lips as you hid the warmth that rose to your cheeks. Painting his index finger slowly as he felt your knuckles brush against the center of his palm, brushing off the excess polish into the bottle before moving onto his raw thumb.

Painting gently, making sure not to cause him any unnecessary pain. Choso let out a sharp wince, making you flinch and look up at him. “You okay?” you worried, face full of fear making him let out a stifled laugh. Your face fell when you realized he was messing with you. Mumbling a quiet, ‘jerk’ before finishing his thumb and blowing gently onto the tips of his fingers making him grin. 

Moving to his other hand, picking up his pinkie before speaking, “When you told me you've seen me walking home-” you started, making Choso look at your face, to see if your expression changed.

If you were interrogating him or just trying to make conversation. Finishing his pinkie and dipping the brush once again, “It really made me think.” You hummed, coating his ring finger and moving to his middle.

“About?” he asked, gulping his nerves as he felt your breath against his hand. Smiling as you swiped down his nail, “Made me rethink walking home alone.” You grinned, playing coy to what you were insinuating. “Oh?” he hummed, seeing you flash a toothy grin, ‘Mhm’ You smiled, looking at him and pursing your lips as you waited for him to say something.

Obsessive!Choso who felt like he'd stutter if he asked you what you wanted to hear. “How dangerous it is-” you smiled, painting his pointer finger.

“You-” he started, feeling his heart thump in his chest, “You want me to walk you home?” He asked, making you look at his face. He let out his internal monologue for the first time.

Letting out a stifled sigh, looking back down to avoid the eyes he was looking at you with. “Only if you want to.” Making sure to keep a playful tone, painting his thumb before looking back up to see him. Blowing at them gently while he struggled to find the words to use, dark circles under your eyes as you fought off the need to go to sleep.

Knowing that when you woke up you could blame your insistent flirting on how tired you were. Placing his hand flat on the table, mouthing a quiet, ‘All done.’ keeping your eyes on him while you waited for him to reply.

“If it makes you feel safer-” he started, “And if you'll let me. I will.” Seeing his bottom lip tremble the tiniest bit, cheeks flushed and his hands turning clammy against the table. Thankful you weren’t holding them anymore.

Batting your eyelashes at him, smiling before telling him ‘thank you’. The fatigue eating away at you, feeling your brain pound in your skull. Not knowing if it was from how hard you were blushing or if it was from how nervous you were asking that of him.

“Why are you so nice to me?” You asked your voice daring to slur the words, resting your head in your hand and seeing him blink rapidly.

“Cause you're nice to me.” He smiled, feeling like he could die at any moment from how hard his heart was beating.

“No- I mean.” You started, scanning his face. “Anyone else wouldn't have come here. And I don't know anyone who would cook me something to make me feel better.” you smiled, seeing him scoff playfully, trying to look away from you.

You laughed, realizing what you were saying aloud, “I don't know- What I'm trying to say is- you're different.” You smiled, seeing him nod his head and grin as he heard you slur your words. “In a- in a good way-” you sighed, noticing your eyelids suddenly felt very heavy. 

“I don’t even know what I’m sayin'- please say something.” You smiled, feeling like you had just confessed your feelings to him even if you didn't know what feelings you were confessing.

“I think- you're exhausted. And you need to sleep.” He smiled, making you sigh at his words. Nodding your head slowly, knowing if you had to sleep it would mean being home alone again.

“I don't wanna be alone.” you hummed, sounding like you were already half asleep.

“I could stay. If you want.” Choso started, hearing you exhale in relief. “I'll clean up.” He continued, seeing you nod your head.

“You don't have to-” You started, feeling embarrassed.

“I want to.” He retorted, reaching for your hand. Making you sigh as you felt more at ease, mouthing a quiet, ‘Thank you.’ before standing.

“Wake me when you wanna leave- okay?” You asked, walking towards the stairs, hearing him mumble a small ‘Mhm’, seeing you left the nail polish at the table. Smiling before standing up and walking to the kitchen sink.

Choso wasn't going to make you wake up simply because he wanted to leave. He would stay here for as long as you'd let him. ‘I will be here when you wake,’ he smiled to himself, washing the dirty dishes. Picturing a future where this was your life. He was your life.

Obsessive!Choso who finished washing the dishes, walked around your house to see if there was anything he could find.

Pocketing the black nail polish on the table, finding himself standing at the end of the staircase that led up to you. Debating on whether or not he should go up there. Thinking up excuses if you caught him snooping.

Before he knew it, he was taking quiet steps up the stairs. Noticing most of the doors were closed, walking to the one that was slightly cracked open.

Pushing the door handle slightly. Seeing you in your bed, sleeping.

‘You feel so safe around me that you leave your door open. So comfortable that you let yourself be vulnerable.’

Quietly taking a step inside. Eyes scanning the walls of your room, finally being able to see the bedroom he's pictured you in for so long. His eyes noticed you left your curtain open- again.

Closing it quickly, mentally scolding you for that bad habit. His eyes trailing down at your desk. All your small trinkets.

Taking his freshly painted fingers and moving the curtain slightly to look outside, seeing the usual spot he'd stand at when he would come see you. Smiling at how if you ever did look outside, you wouldn't see him from this view.

Looking to the wall where your bed was. A large painting hangs above it. Noticing it was crooked, taking a step closer and seeing it was slightly pushed off of the wall.

Looking down to see you sleeping soundly, taking a minute to look at your sleeping form. The urge to brush the hair from your face was strong, but the regret he'd feel if he invaded your personal space, and you woke from it; was too great. S

canning your wrist that was adorned by the bracelet he had given you earlier, almost clutching his heart at the sight. Eyes looking back to the painting, scanning the side of it and seeing the spine of a notebook. ‘A diary? I didn't take you for a person who had a diary.’ he thought, gently lifting the side of it and taking the notebook. Opening the first page and seeing the date, two years ago.

First day of college. Reading how excited you were- the first few entries were like that. Full of excitement and passion for going to school. Standing above you as he flipped the pages, finding one 5 months after starting school. ‘

I left home to start over.- but I could stand in a room filled with these so-called ‘friends’ and feel more alone than I've ever felt in my entire life-’

He read, looking down at your face, ‘I understand. I know how hard living the life you live must be’ Spending the next 20 minutes silently skimming through the pages.

Eyes snapping to you anytime you sighed in your sleep. His fingers grazed on the small wrinkled circles of smeared ink. Showing him you were crying whilst writing. 

Seeing the date of the day when he first saw you, scanning your messy writing trying to find himself in your words. ‘

There was only one person who looked interesting.’ He read, with a smile on his face when he read that you were describing what he wore that day.

‘This is fate. I know it is. Love at first sight.’ he thought, turning the page and seeing you continue to mention him more often. The last entry you wrote was a week after they had paired you together.

The words he read almost made him jump in excitement. ‘I've never met anyone like him, he's different. I think we met for a reason.’ Choso wanted to desperately take your notebook, scan each and every page before returning it to you.

He wondered why you hadn't written in so long- thinking that his friendship was so important to you, you didn't need to write anymore. That you already knew you could talk to him about anything. No judgements or need for embarrassment. 

Obsessive!Choso who got caught up in his own string of delusions that he began to mumble to himself, letting out the questions he thinks of when you'd talk.

Almost carrying out a conversation with you. Seeing you start to shift under a throw blanket, freezing still when you turned to face away from him. Closing the notebook and sliding it back behind the large canvas, making sure to straighten the painting before he left.

He was one step away from the door when he heard you stir awake, mumbling his name when you cracked your eyes open to see a Choso shaped blob at your door.

Freezing when you asked him what he was doing, “I came to see if you were sleeping; I know you told me to wake you.” He smiled, seeing you rest back into the pillows with a small sigh.

“You leavin?” you asked, voice groggy as you tried not to fall asleep again.

“Nope. It's okay. Go back to sleep.” he whispered, hearing you hum in response. He was mentally scolding himself for almost being caught. Stepping out of your bedroom and silently closing the door. Feeling like his search wasn't enough, he walked down the hall to the door at the end. Wanting to see who you lived with.

Opening the door knowing there wouldn't be anyone behind it. Scanning the bedroom, seeing their photos of their families. ‘Boring.’ he thought, his eyes catching a frame of you, and what he assumed was the rest of your roommates.

Smiling at how you stood out in the photo. How everyone looked so fucking boring next to you.  His fingers grazed against your face as he admired the photo behind the glass. 

Placing the frame face down onto their desk. Closing the door to the bedroom before making his way to the other rooms, not finding anything of interest.

But in the last bedroom he checked, Choso found they had a huge frame on their wall filled with polaroids. Scanning each row trying to find you.

His eyes catching a photo of you, smile on your face as someone kissed your cheek. Written at the bottom was ‘New Years 2021’ in red ink.

He felt a certain pain in his heart when he saw how happy your face was. Remembering back to every time he's made you laugh- not once making you smile as hard as you were in that photo.

Not being able to see this person's face clearly, the flash from the camera hid their identity well. ‘You haven't brought this person up. And they're not on your social media.’ He thought, scanning the other photos to see if they had any more of you.

But not seeing any, turning around and looking at their tv stand, a small stack of multicolored polaroids wrapped in rope sat at the corner. Thinking how this was fate, picking up the hefty stack and untying the bow that held them together. Noticing the tops of them were dusty, showing him that they didn't go through them recently. 

Obsessive!Choso who slowly went through them; mostly photos that were taken with the wrong exposure or blurry ones.

But he saw how there were 5 of you. On your birthday, of you in your pajamas in the morning, of you petting a stray cat. He smiled looking at them, thinking of how destiny put these photos in his hands.

Taking out all 5 photos of you and wrapping up the stack again, placing it in the same corner he found them in.

Taking out his wallet and sliding in the polaroids into one of the card holders. Smiling knowing he'd have actual polaroids of you to show off to his brothers the next time he saw them again.

Walking back downstairs and seeing that the sun had fully set. Opening your fridge to see what you had, nothing but an old rotisserie chicken and ketchup.

Opening the freezer and seeing the pizza you had told him about previously. All he found were just frozen meals, scolding your roommates for not leaving you decent ingredients to cook for yourself. 

Sitting down on the sofa, not wanting to turn the tv on incase he woke you. So he sat in silence, thinking about all the times you had interacted with him, replaying them in his mind.

Watching every smile, every word you mispronounced, everytime you muted yourself on FaceTime- like a movie.

You know in those movies where the spouse dies and they remember them laughing the whole time, in white bedsheets or at the beach? Yeah, that's how he was thinking of you. If anyone peeked inside the window they'd just see him sitting on the couch in dim lighting, hands on his knees as he waited for you to wake up.

Trying to remember what he'd do in his spare time before he met you. Furrowing his eyebrows when he realized he genuinely couldn't remember, ‘Study? No that's not it.’ he thought.

Hearing light footsteps above him, signaling you were awake. Smile on his face when he heard you close the door to your bedroom. Straightening his back when he saw you come down the stairs, grinning when he saw you.

Lips puffy and eyes squinty when you laid eyes on him. “Hiii” you croaked, walking to the opposite end of the couch he was sitting on. “What were you doin?” you asked, seeing him look over to you and think of his answer.

“Nothing…?” he asked, his face grimacing as he looked at you. Causing you to let out a stifled laugh.

“Totally not suspicious at all.” you joked, folding your legs onto the couch to face him. 

Obsessive!Choso who felt the need to actually tell you about what he was thinking. “I was trying to remember what I used to do with my spare time.” he murmured, so quiet you could hear crickets outside.

“What do you mean?” You asked, brain still muddy from your sleepy state.

“Before I-” he started, knowing he was saying too much. “Never mind.” he murmured, leaning back into the couch.

“No, tell me.” You smiled, scooching over the tiniest bit to convince him. Seeing him nod his head no, “Before you…?” The tone you took made Choso crack a smile.

“Before we were friends.” he mumbled, looking away from you in hopes you didn't see the blushy look on his face. Making you laugh,

Choso knew what he did before he was friends with you. He'd watch you, and scroll through your social media. Find old middle school pictures of you. Scroll through the abandoned twitter account from sophmore year of highschool.

What he was referring to was what he did before he saw you, what he did before he fell in love with you.

“I didn't think I took so much of your time-” you joked, seeing him turn back to you with a smile.

“No- that's not what I meant.” he laughed, seeing you smile at him. “I mean I don't think I have any hobbies or anything like that.” seeing your smile fall.

“Any? At all?” you furrowed your eyebrows. “Not even like regular guy stuff?” you laughed, seeing him exhale with a smile.

“What is ‘regular guy stuff’?” he turned his head seeing you laugh through your nose.

“I don’t know-” you looked away from him, looking up trying to think about it. “Video games, sports, parties, pot…” You started, looking back at him. “A partner.” seeing his face go unchanged.

“Well let's see-” he started holding five fingers in front of him, “I don't like games-” putting down his thumb, “i'm not a jock- parties are stupid- “ putting down two fingers looking over at you smiling.

“-and pot makes me anxious.” He smiled, seeing you look down to see he still had his pinkie out.

“And… ?” You smiled, seeing his eyes flicker back down to his hand.

“Nope. Not that either.” he let out, almost making you fall back against the couch in relief.

“I'd be a little concerned if you did have a partner and you were here with me-” you grinned, “It being so late and all.” seeing his eyebrows wriggle at your words.

Looking away from you to face the black tv in front of the couch, silence filling the air as his hands fiddled with each other, seeing his pointer finger pick at the already raw gash on his thumb, “You wanna watch a movie..? Or something?” you asked, trying to make him less nervous. Not knowing this would only make his heart beat faster. Seeing him nod his head yes and let out a small ‘Mhm’ 

Now standing in the kitchen waiting for popcorn to finish popping, leaning against the counter as he stared at you.

“Wine?” he asked, seeing you walk to a specific cupboard above the stove, “You read my mind.” You mumbled, standing on your tiptoes and opening the cabinet door.

Seeing the tips of your fingers barely reach the dark green bottle. Hearing him take a step to help you but mumbling a quick, “I got it-” with a sigh when your hand wrapped around the bottom of it. Holding it in both your hands in triumph with a smile on your face. Placing two glasses onto the counter and telling him to say when. Seeing him open the bag of popcorn and dump them into a light blue bowl, taking a sip from your glass.

“What do you wanna watch?” you asked, tossing popcorn into your mouth.

“I don't know- action?” he asked, seeing you nod your head no.

“Horror?” you asked, seeing him nod his head no quickly. 

Obsessive!Choso knew that if you put a horror movie on; you'd see just how much he hated them. He knew the whole ‘watch a horror movie to comfort you when you're scared’ wouldn't work. In the end he'd be the one asking you to tell him when the scary part is over.

“Comedy?” he asked, seeing you grimace.

“So called ‘comedy’ films are never funny.” You smiled, looking up to think.

“You into superhero movies?” you asked, seeing him look down with a smirk.

“God no-” he laughed.

“Oh I know-” You smiled, making him look back up at you. “Ratatouille!” You smiled, making him laugh.

“Phenomenal movie-” he started, making you grin. “One of my-” he said, placing his hand on his chest. “Personal favorite movies.” His tone was full of sarcasm as you picked up your glass, muttering ‘Shut up-’ with a smile with the bowl in hand.

Walking back to the couch. Sitting at the end, turning the tv on and scrolling to find the streaming service. Seeing Choso eye the couch before sitting. Looking at the opposite end and over to you, looking up at his face.

“What?” you asked, seeing indecision smeared on his face.

“Nothin.” he smiled, sitting at the opposite end and feeling how tense his shoulders were. Hearing you let out a laugh before taking a sip from your glass. Placing the popcorn bowl between you, knowing you’d have to reach over quite far if you wanted to get a handful. Pressing play onto the movie and feeling his eyes flicker to you. 

It didn't take long for you to pause the movie to tell him about a memory you remembered from your childhood.

Wine in hand seeing him take in every word you spoke with a smile. Soon the film became annoying background noise as you heard him speak about how the red haired guy reminded him of his brother, his glass becoming more and more empty with every time he spoke.

Telling you stories of how he would have to pry them from each other growing up, and much they'd fight with each other. Soon the tv dimmed, eventually turning off from how long it had been paused. Showing you a scar one of his brothers made on his forearm.

“Growing up- Kechizu was a biter.” He smiled, seeing you move the bowl onto the coffee table and scooch closer to him. Noticing the light veins on his arm as you scanned the scar.

“And this one?” you asked, seeing a light scratch between his knuckles, “I was trying to break up a fight- and they dragged me into it. I don't even know who scratched me. But from then on I made sure that they all had short nails.” he smiled, noticing every time you asked him about another one you'd scooch closer to him.

Now sitting a few inches away from him, smiling while you reached your fingers out, grazing the light scars that littered his upper forearm, Choso’s cheeks now light pink as he watched you.

Both wine glasses now empty as your eyes flickered up to look at him. His short sleeve rose, making you notice the bottom of a tattoo on his bicep. Sliding the tips of your fingers up slightly, pushing the hem of the sleeve up. Making a chill run down his spine.

“Did it hurt?” you asked, looking at the tattoo on his pale skin. Looking up to his face, eyes half lidded as he nodded no.

Pushing his hair behind his ears with his other hand, your eyes now scanning his heavily pierced ears.

“And your ears?” you whispered, “Those hurt a little more.” He whispered back, seeing your hand hesitate to rise to his ear before pulling it back down.

Eyes locked onto each other as Choso felt his brain empty. Moving your eyes to look at his eyebrow.

“Did the ones on your face hurt?” you whispered. Scanning his face piercings.

“Some of them.” he whispered back. 

Taking his free hand and grazing the barbell on his eyebrow. “This one hurt a lot-” he mumbled, his lips curling into a small smile. Dragging the tips of his fingers down to the hoop on his nostril, “And this one felt like a pinch-” he whispered, seeing your eyes follow his unchipped nails.

Dragging his middle and ring finger down to his snake bites, “And these only hurt after.” he smiled, seeing you look at his bottom lip. Humming in response, eyes blinking back up to look into his.

“I never noticed you had a scar there.” you whispered.

Looking at two small bumps on either side of his nose bridge. “That one-” he started, “Felt like I combined every piercing and every tattoo ive ever gotten, into one.” he smiled, seeing how dilated your pupils were.

“Why’d you take it out?” you whispered, your thumb rubbing circles on his forearm made his brain fuzzy and found it difficult to think of what he was saying.

Obsessive!Choso who thought you were leaning in closer to him, thinking he was going crazy. “I didn't like it as much as I thought I would.” he breathed. Feeling his cheeks tingle at how close you were. Dragging your hand down to the top of his.

“Scary huh?” he asked, making you exhale and lean back. Nodding your head no and smile.

“Nope. Not at all.” you grinned, fingers grazing the bumps of his knuckles. Inhaling sharply when he felt your fingers brush against his palm.

“Wh-” he started, seeing you look to him with a tilted head, “Where do we meet on monday?” He asked, referring to walking you home.

Hearing you hum, “Coffee shop?” you asked, pulling your hand away from him, making his heart break.

“Okay.” he whispered sternly, trying his hardest to not sound pathetic.

Seeing you rest your hand on your knee, “Okay.” you mimicked his tone with a smile. 

-

pt 8 here

this was like 5.5k words Jesus Christ. lmk if u wanna be tagged continuously!!!!

[accioscarheadthings]

ULTRAMINE ~ EPILOGUE

kenji sato x reader

summary: all's well now that the kdf and the gigantron were handled and you all go about your lives, together.

pairings: kenji sato x fem!student!reader

masterlist !

a couple of days later, the commotion had slumbered down a notch. kenji, being a man of his word, took you on the date he had promised.

kenji was standing under the streetlamp, leaning against the pole with his injured arm in a sling. he was dressed in black formal shirt and dress pants. in his right hand, he clutched a bouquet of your favourite flowers.

he did a double take when you arrived in front of him, his jaw dropping and eyes admiring the way your dress hugged you body, tempting him to no limit, "you are breathtaking,"

after a week filled with unexpected events, you both deserved the break. you owed it to yourselves. and to your longing hearts.

despite the broken arm, kenji's determination and desire to be close to you were stronger than any injury.

as you both got ready to call it a night, he followed you into your bedroom, his eyes filled with a mixture of tenderness and longing.

the broken limb was not going to hinder his plans for the night, and his desire to make love to you was evident in the way he looked at you.

after a night of intense passion and exploration, both of you finally succumbed to exhaustion. the fatigue from the previous activities overcame you, and you slowly drifted into a deep, and well-deserved rest.

morning arrived, casting its glow through the partially parted curtains.

as Kenji slowly came to, his sleep-filled mind lazily reached out for the comfort of your presence, only to find the bed empty.

alarm coursed through his veins as he sat up and spotted you sitting at the foot of the bed, intently scrolling through a set of holographic images in the air in front of you.

curiosity piqued, he quietly approached you, noticing the pictures you were looking at.

as realization dawned upon him, he understood that they were pictures of your parents.

you were too consumed by your own thoughts that you hadn't noticed your lover crawl over to you, peppering kisses on your shoulder, "morning babe,"

you reached a hand back, fingers burying in his raven locks, "hi,"

he trailed his lips across your skin, hooking his good arm around your middle, and pulled you onto his lap. he pressed his lips against a hickey below your ear, "kiss for your thoughts?"

you smiled lightly, adjusting yourself to sit properly on him in such a way that your side was to his front. you hugged his neck, "my parents. i never really got to know what happened to them,"

kenji pressed his lips against your cheek, humming for you to continue.

"all my life, i thought the kdf killed them halfway through interrogation. that's what they told the media. there were bodies. but-" you swiped a few folders until you reached the ones of your mom and dad. each of them had a red stamp of the kdf that read : 'status: unknown' "

kenji frowned while you carried on, "strange, right? i mean i was told they were dead. i saw their bodies. i was at the mortuary and i identified them-" your voice cracked, exposing your vulnerable thoughts.

kenji pressed his lips to your temple in comfort, shushing you gently, "it's okay, baby. we'll figure it out," he felt your body going taut and let you curl into him, "I'm right here,"

one week went by after your big face-off with the kdf. you were expecting them to come after you, but surprisingly they hadn't.

maybe you were paranoid, but it never hurt to watch your back.

now, you were seated on the balcony of kenji's mansion, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

kenji was lying on your lap, head resting comfortably on your thick thighs.

you played with his hair, letting your nails scratch his scalp. he moved his hand up and down your calf, his touch light and teasing as he brushed over your knees.

kenji watched the evening sun cast a soft, golden light on you, bathing in a warm, radiant glow. the small hairs on your neck caught in the light, making it look like a halo around you. you looked angelic.

kenji pressed a kiss to the bare skin of your thigh that was exposed by your shorts. you hummed in acknowledgment, and he opened his mouth to bite down on your skin gently to get your attention.

you jerked, looking down at him with that frown he loved, "hey! that was that for?"

"nothing," kenji said cheekily, one hand reaching up the back of your neck and pulling you down to his lips.

you laughed against his lips, kissing him deeply. you slowly straightened as kenji got up without parting from you.

he spun you around as you screamed in fright, making you straddle his lap, "there," his lips pressed against yours again, "much better,"

the sound of water splashing made you both turn towards it.

emi was squealing in delight, her wings beating at her sides as she stayed in the air.

"there’s my girl!"

"hi, baby!"

you and kenji rushed to her, pleased to see her after a long while.

emi whimpered softly, pointing down at the rocks below the mansion.

you and kenji peaked down in the direction she indicated.

emi's mother was washed up against the rocks, curled up in misery. her eyes were crinkled in strain. some metal parts of the 'project:surrogate' still clung to her body.

you tapped your watch twice; metal plates shifted at your foot, crawling up your body and back. once your warbird mask snapped over your face, you activated your turbo boosters, lowering yourself to the kaiju mother.

when emi's mother noticed you, she snarled threateningly, baring her beak.

emi was in front of you in an instant protectively, communicating to her mother that you were only going to help.

"everything alright, there?" kenji hollered from the balcony.

"yeah, i got this," you got closer to the kaiju to get a better view, “it’s emi’s mom. She seems to be hurt,”

it seemed that the metal plates were hindering her motion; a metal plate had embedded itself under the kaiju's wing, nudging its shoulders at an awkward angle.

"you poor thing," you tutted, hovering closer to get a look.

but the kaiju backed away, clawing at the rocks behind.

"it's okay, you can trust me," you hesitantly held out a hand.

the kaiju glanced at your hand, at emi (who nodded whilst cooing at her mother to ease her tension), and back at you.

the kaiju rested its beak against your outstretched palm, closing its eyes.

you exhaled in relief, exchanging a smile with emi over your back.

you leaned against the side of the boat with emi, your lifejacket bunching up in front of you. emi's mother was keeping up with you, swimming through the water.

a hand crept to your waist. you closed your eyes when you felt kenji stand behind you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his body warmth.

professor sato was on the other side of emi, smiling over at you and kenji bundled up together. he knew something was eventually gonna pull you both together. you both were that obvious.

he smiled in adoration, seeing himself and his late wife in you and kenji.

mist parted in the distance, revealing the legendary kaiju island.

you leaned back into kenji, letting him hold you as emi trilled in awe pointing in awe and excitement.

kenji felt complete at the moment, with both his girls at his side, having amended things with his father; he had everything he want.

kenji pressed his lips to your hair, "we're here,"

'incoming'

the sudden beeping from his watch jerked kenji awake.

you stirred lightly next to him, snuggling closer in your sleep. carefully, kenji slipped out of your hold, reaching for the device groggily.

he answered the call, the unexpected time of the communication immediately confusing him.

the location on the watch displayed: nebula m78

his confusion turned to surprise when he heard his mother's voice on the line, his eyes widening.

"kenji, can you hear me? it's mom. I'm still alive here with the l/ns'. help us get back home,"

ヽ（the end）ノ

TAGLIST !

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AUTHOR'S NOTE !

ahh!! i can't believe this is the last chapter. i loved writing this series sm. let me know your thoughts below...

the last bit, i followed it up with the post credit scene of the movie, to add to the plot. let's hope we get another movie.

i'll be writing drabbles because i can't get enough of kenji sato, so keep an eye out for them.

if you guys have any requests, don't hesitate to send them

lots of love<33

[impactedfates]

L Bozo Ratio!! - Dr Ratio x GN!Reader

★ Notes: I couldn't think of a better name haha, finally got to finishing and posting this!! This is slightly in a scenario format. They’ll be mini time stamps ^^ It's a kind weird format but it's one that made sense at the time of writing it

☆ Characters Included: Dr Ratio (Romantic) + Aventurine (Supporting)

★ Genre/Trope: (one-sided) Rivals to Lovers (but no one gets together yet) + Fluff + Crack(?)

☆ Warnings: None

★ Extra: Dr Ratio may be OOC // I'm not actually sure if the Intelligentsia Guild has a school but just pretend for the fic // Not fully proof-read // First half may be slightly dialogue heavy

“And you’re sure you don’t know when this started?”

The blonde asked as he shuffled some cards, peering at you through his heart shaped glasses

“Positive!! He was decently kind to me when I first joined the Guild. I don’t know what happened!!”

Aventurine chuckled, dealing out the cards between the two of you.

“If I know the doctor, I know he wouldn’t dislike someone for a reason-”

“He dislikes me?? Why! I didn’t-”

“Let me finish [Name]. He’s not someone who dislikes another for no reason, and I do believe you haven’t done anything wrong. So perhaps there’s a different reason why he acts this why”

He slowly places the remaining cards down, looking at you with a small smile that almost hinted he already had an idea.

“Now tell me the whole story, how you met and how it started. And the things that happened afterwards, just tell me everything from the start to now”

"Huh- Uh okay?"

.

.

.

HOW YOU TWO MET

You had just joined the Intelligentsia Guild. Setting up your classroom and preparing for future lessons with the students who had already signed up for your course when you heard a knock on the door.

You went and opened it and were met with the eyes of a purple haired man who stared at you.

"You must be the one everyone's talking about. I am Veritas Ratio, but many here just call me Dr Ratio"

He speaks before you could welcome him or even utter a greeting. You only smiled before responding yourself.

"People are already talking about me? That makes me a bit nervous...but yes, I'm the new teacher here. You can call me [Name]"

"No ones talking ill about you, don't fret. I just came by to introduce myself. If you ever need anything, my room is just down the hall. Just don't interrupt too much, especially if I'm teaching"

"Oh! Thank you Dr Ratio. I appreciate the help"

He peered inside the room, taking a small look around at the decorating you had down so far.

"Perhaps call an interior designer before you start your lessons, you may need it"

"WHA- Hey! I'm not even do-"

But he was already off walking down the hall before you could finish. With a sigh escaping your lips, you closed your classroom door again to continue decorating

WHEN IT STARTED

You weren't sure on the exact date, I mean who could name the exact date someone randomly seemed to despise you when you thought you had a good relationship?

Sure you weren't close with Dr Ratio, but you weren't exactly not friends with him either. You two would chat, especially when the two of you had free time, but one day he just ignored you?

You weren't sure why, until some of the yearly exam results came out and he proudly showed how well his students did. You were confused at the sudden appearance but it wasn't unwelcomed as you happily showed your classes results as well.

"Our students are pretty smart!! All our classes passed with flying colours"

You happily said as you slid over the total marks your classes did. You expected him to congratulate you or...something? You weren't sure what to expect from his reaction, but not for him to glare at the score, throwing his paper carelessly and walking out, turning to face you. He said in a determined voice. "I'll beat you next time Mx. [Name]"

"...Beat me in wha-"

He slammed your classroom door...

You grabbed the paper from the ground and double checked the two scores, there must be a big difference if he suddenly challenged you or well...vowed? To get a higher score than your class? Even if it was out of character for him to care-

.

.

.

A 1% difference...?

DURING THE "RIVALRY"

You tried to talk to him, tried to pinpoint why he suddenly cared so much about "beating" your class in test and exam scores. Sure you didn't know him that well, but at the same time? You knew it wasn't in his nature to care about this kind of thing.

Honestly you didn't know anyone who would actually care...

It was just test scores, just showing how well the two of you taught a class...he wasn't trying to show he was a better teacher right...?

Sure the students praised you more but that was merely cuz he was stricter with his teachers. Apparently he threw someone out the window?? At least that's what you heard in passing...

In any case, you couldn't think of a logical conclusion as to why he suddenly wanted to have this sudden rivalry. But you wanted to find out.

You tried to talk to him, knock on his door a few times a month to talk to him, giving him his favourite food. Heck you even gave back the chalk you accidentally on purpose forgot to give back to him.

But he was dry with his response, looking away when you tried to talk to him or heck even smiled at him.

YOUR SMILE WAS NOT THAT BAD.

This became such a habit the other teachers noticed. They already noticed how kindly Dr Ratio already treated you compared to the others when you first joined, and when he became more cold and dry to you they noticed more.

You could see their lingering stares as the scholar once again shut his book with one hand and walked off without another word to you. You tried asking the other scholars but they weren't sure what was going on either. None of them have dealt with this so-called rivalry.

You knocked on his door once again, to which he slowly opened. Being accustomed to the soft knocks that came from your hand.

"Ratio!! I brought you some Stargazer cake!!"

"....many thanks [Name]"

He muttered, taking the plate from your hands.

"So I just wanted to-"

He shut the door in your face...again. Does he have a thing for not letting people finish or are you the lucky one?

CURRENT

"And that kinda brings us to here? But yeah, I'm not sure why he started the rivalry"

"Perhaps it's to hide something~ Something he doesn't want to tell a certain someone yet"

"What? Hiding something...what could he be hiding"

"That he lo-"

"That's enough Aventurine."

You snapped your head up to the source of the voice, as the gambler leaned his head back to look at the new addition to the room."

"Doctor~ Funny to see you here again, good to know your interrupting habits and not letting someone finish their sentence doesn't only apply to your cru-"

"...Shut it gambler...I need to have a word with you"

Aventurine chuckled, as he stood up and placed the cards down on the middle of the table. Telling you he'd be right back as the two of them went into another room.

You sat there, for maybe a minute or two. Until curiosity hit you like a brick. You knew they were talking about you. Or at least, that was most likely, and if you were right. Then that means the duo were chatting about Ratios behaviour...surely a small listen wouldn't hurt?

You slowly walked over to the room, careful to be quiet as you listened to the conversation.

"And what makes it so hard, Doctor? Just tell them. You can't keep using this whole rivalry thing to buy you time"

"You don't understand...it's easier said than done...besides, I'd rather make it more special. I can't just go out there and tell them in this situation"

"What would flowers and a more romantic setting do?"

"Make them feel special...make them hopefully feel the exact same way I felt when I realised I loved them"

FINALLY FINISHED IT!! I got my computer fixed a bit ago but still struggled to find the words to continue but here I am >:D Hopefully this was worth the wait sipadgpsirp

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Riding a Vaquero. || Alejandro Vargas

Rating: E Words: 2.4K~ Pairing: Alejandro x F!Reader CW: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. crack + smut, piv (protected), oral sex (m!receiving), throat fucking, cumming (f! and m!), swallowing cum, praise? ('that's it'), Spanish terms of endearment (nena, mamacita, vaquerita + caballito). other tags: crack, one night stand, dating app, flirting, roasting/mockery/slander of Alejandro. summary: You meet Alejandro on a dating app. Despite roasting the crap out of him he still lets you ride him :) a/n: Inspired by my "It's a Match!" fic... but very loosely and also it's so much fucking worse. + Thank you to @loveandplanet for helping me write this because I was struggling, my goodness.

Friday night. 5:30 PM.

You just got home from work and threw yourself on the couch before even making yourself dinner.

You're tired and bored and sort of... lonely.

The perfect cocktail of emotions to make you dip a toe back into the dark, cesspool of a lake that is the only dating app you keep on your phone: Tinder.

Slowly, you begin swiping away on the pictures of men on your screen.

Most of them are gym bros, there's a few nerds... You're pretty sure they're great, they seem it, you're sure they'd offer wonderful company and conversation over a quick meal...

But for the sake of what you're looking for, they might as well have a sign stamped on their face reading "[ Boring ]".

Boring. Boring. Boring.

That's when you see him.

Alejandro.

A handsome man, older, with crow's feet, and deep laugh lines, and a broad nose, and a bit of grey already creeping onto his beard... or maybe it's just the lighting? Either way, he looks... delicious.

So, you scroll down to read what his bio has to say.

A soldier, originally from Las Almas... 6ft tall... And a good cook... Looks like you've just caught yourself a two-in-one... A dinner and... if his bio is anything to go off of, a one night stand.

Although that bio...

You find yourself swiping right and in an instant, your phone displays a 'It's a Match!' screen, signalling that he liked you back.

You open your DM with him and carefully type a message:

you:

"Do you know your bio has a typo? You wrote horse twice."

His reply was surprisingly quick, almost like he was already in the DM screen as well, waiting for you to reply:

Alejandro:

"I know. I did it on purpose so people would DM me to correct me." "Pretty sure it increased the amount of women reaching out to me." "Women like you."

Cocking a brow, you can't help but scoff. Of course, he uses that typo as an ice-breaker!

No wonder he answered so quick! He was already anticipating you'd call his attention to his typo...

Sitting up on the couch again, you shift your weight and sit into a more focused position, leaning forward, before you type out an answer.

It has to be witty. It has to be funny. It has to catch him off guard...

...

you:

"That explains it." "And now that I got that out of the way..." "Is your forehead really that big or is it just the angle?"

You set your phone down on the coffee table in front of you and bite your lip, hoping that your comment wouldn't have pushed him too far...

A couple of new messages pop onto the left side of the screen in a row, causing you to lean forward to read them.

Alejandro:

"Excuse me?" "I bet you wouldn't say that to my face."

Trying not to giggle, you carefully grab the phone and type another reply:

you:

"More like say it to your forehead you mean?"

You wonder if you're going too far.

He's the first and only interesting guy you've found on Tinder today, the only one that you didn't deem boring upon one glance of their face and bio...

What are you even doing, making fun of him like this?

What if that just causes him to unmatch and block you?

What if-

Alejandro:

"I've never in my entire life been spoken to like this." "Other than when I was a boy pissing off my sisters." "And I hate to say that I sort of like it."

Your eyebrows raise and your eyes widen, feeling like you somehow just caught the biggest fish in the lake by blindly throwing in the lure and reeling it back out when you decided you should.

Sheer fucking luck.

you:

"I have more of those if you'd like." "Can keep going all night just making fun of you."

He paused again for a moment before replying with:

Alejandro:

"And you wouldn't run out of things to say?"

you:

"I'm sure I wouldn't."

Alejandro:

"And what would I have to give you in return for this to happen?"

you:

"Cook me dinner?"

Alejandro:

"Sounds like this was all a ploy to taste my food."

Taking a deep breath, you look around your room aimlessly, trying to hold back from saying the first thought that popped into your mind at reading that message...

But you can't help it.

And, hey, nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?

you:

"Maybe it's not just the food I'm planning on tasting."

Alejandro:

"Oh." "Maybe I'd like that."

you:

"Doesn't scare you?"

You almost patted yourself on the back for making a joke about his profile's stupid little 'if you think you're into something that scares me' line.

Alejandro:

"I'm an army colonel. Of course it doesn't scare me." "It just intrigues me." "You sure do look like you're starving. Who am I to deny you?"

Stifling a scoff and a bit of a groan, you reply with:

you:

"That line sounded straight out of a porno."

Alejandro:

"Haven't even cooked you dinner and you're beginning with the insults?" "You don't waste any time, huh?"

you:

"No and neither should you."

Alejandro:

"Then how about you let me cook you dinner right now?" "No stalling or wasting any more time."

Biting back a smirk, you shake your head in amusement.

you:

"Sounds good to me." "Address?"

-

"I was right, wasn't I, nena [babygirl]?" Alejandro asks as he looks down at you as you crouch before him in his kitchen.

You look up at him through heavy-lidded eyes, muffled sounds escaping your lips as you keep your mouth stuffed with his cock.

"That's right... You really were starving..." He cooed as he looked down at you, his voice carrying a pleasant growl and gravel to it.

Your head is pressed nicely against the cupboards of his kitchen, as he carefully prepares pico de gallo for the tacos he's making the two of you for dinner.

You hadn't expected to end up in this position so soon after driving up to his house, a small 1-store casita with wooden frames and details and a wonderful little tiled patio out back.

You had expected some flirting, some jokes, you roasting him...

Instead, you had somehow ended up pressed against the kitchen counter with his tongue deep in your mouth and his hand up your shirt, fondling one of your breasts...

And now, here you were, perched on your own heels, with his big cock slowly and repeatedly bruising the back of your throat as you moaned softly around it... While he cooks dinner for the both of you like nothing's happening.

It's almost infuriating, how calm he seems, how he looks down at you with those stunning brown eyes of his, and a smug little smirk on his lips...

And yet, he also looks absolutely breathtaking, standing there in a charcoal grey button-up, the first few buttons popped open to reveal a generous speckling of chest hair and a golden crucifix and a few other chains resting over his pecs…

And the way the sweat pools on his brow, and slips down the side of his robust neck, and disappears under his collar…

The light of the setting sun, warm and orange toned, filters through the windows and illuminates his small home, warming it, and reflecting off his sweat, and shining so bright on him.

It almost doesn't get better than this... letting him fuck your throat against the cupboard while he cooks you a meal which, by the scent, will be delicious, proving he wasn't lying about being a good cook...

Setting your hand on his hip, you tap your fingers on his lower back, gesturing him to go deeper into your mouth.

He picks up on the signal and thrusts harder into your mouth, causing you to choke and gurgle around his large shaft, some saliva slowly slipping down the length and disappearing in the generous bush of hair at the base.

"Mmmm, you like when I make you choke, huh?" He coos as he wipes one of his hands on a tea towel and then grips your hair, protecting your head from bouncing back on the hard wood of the cabinet.

Then, his other hand holds onto the edge of the counter, fingers curling and tightening around it, to keep him upright, before he starts thrusting more decisively into your mouth.

Your eyes roll in delight as he bullies his way deep into your mouth in a more consistent and violent pace, his own head falling back and allowing him to grunt and groan as your throat tightens and constricts around him.

"¡Ay carajo! [Ah, fuck!]" Alejandro groans as he pulls your head closer to his crotch, burying your nose in the coarse hair at the base of his cock, keeping the tip buried deep inside your mouth.

Sputtering and gurgling around him, your hands find a perch on his hip, on either side, but, rather than pulling him off, you hold onto him, close and against you, your nails digging into the muscles of his ass cheeks through the fabric of his jeans.

Your tongue laps up at the underside of his cock just as it begins to throb, Alejandro groans above you, leaning his head on the upper cabinets as he slowly floods your mouth with his tangy cum, which slowly slides down your throat as you make an effort to swallow around him.

With a long exhale, Alejandro licks his lips and looks down at you as he slowly pulls his softening cock from your mouth, letting you finally catch a proper breath too.

"Your mouth is very talented, mamacita." He compliments you, a smirk already forming on his lips again, his hand reaching down to help you wipe some drool off your chin.

"Thank you." You reply with a chuckle and push yourself up to your feet, side stepping him as he tucks himself back into his jeans and resumes making you dinner.

"So... What were you saying about having a lot more insults to tell me?" He quips and smirks at you.

"Well, first of all, I could still see your forehead from all the way down there,"

-

You break the kiss in favor of carefully rocking back and forth on his dick, buried balls deep within your slick cunt.

His large hands grip onto your hip and thighs to continue moving you atop him, making your clit grinding against his pubic hair in a way that made you squirm and whine.

His head is leaning back on the back of his couch as he watches you make yourself feel good, overstimulating your sensitive clit with the help of the coarse hair on his pelvis, and feeling the tip of his slightly curved cock rub against your g-spot.

"You like that, hm, vaquerita [little cowgirl]?" He coos at you, as your head dips back and you moan softly, before bouncing up on his cock for a moment and sinking all the way down, drawing louder groans out of you both.

It's a surprisingly slow fucking session, probably because of your bellies are full and warm with the recent meal, and you just sort of stumbled your way onto the couch afterward, for a make-out session that turned to slow, lazy sex.

Leaning against Alejandro in the low sunlight as the afternoon turns into evening and the sun sets through the window, you rock your hips against his again and again.

Your lips find his for what must be the 50th time tonight. Your tongues intertwine as you huff and moan into his mouth, his fingers digging your thighs as he squeezes you down and rubs you onto him, back and forth.

Breaking the kiss, you set your head down on his shoulder. It's almost too intimate for a first time, but it's strangely nice. His skin feels nice and warm against you, albeit a bit dewy with sweat.

Your eyes look up at him as he relaxes his head back and grunts softly, continuing to guide your hip back and forth on his, to seek out extra friction for you both, and murmuring incoherent Spanish curses and words of praise.

Slowly, you find yourself leaning forward and lick a stripe up his neck toward his stubble-speckled jawline, feeling the saltiness of his sweat on your tongue, as, even now, he's still producing more and more little droplets that slide tantalizingly slowly down his tan skin.

Then, you lick across the bottom of his jaw and around to the back of it, then, your head lowers and you lick another stripe up his neck. Alejandro reacts the same every single time, with a soft shudder and a grunt, throwing his hips up into yours.

"Oh you like that, huh, vaquero [cowboy]?" You tease him this time, using his own words against him.

The look Alejandro shoots you at that quip makes it clear he didn't appreciate your sarcasm... What a shame.

You lean back, your hands coming to rest on his thighs behind you, before you start bouncing in fervor. It drives a groan out of him, his eyebrows raising in surprise.

His left hand goes to your waist to steady you while he brings his other hand up to your lower stomach, pressing down onto it and allowing him to feel himself through your walls.

His thumb finds its way to your clit, rubbing it side to side, as you continue carefully and steadily bouncing off his lap, his own thighs having stiffened and raised to allow you and easier time.

The slaps of your ass and his thighs meeting echos throughout the living room, along with the sounds of your and Alejandro's moans.

It's a slow build-up, the both of you too lazy to actually put in too much effort into chasing your orgasm, but, steadily, and with Alejandro's thumb consistently rubbing against your clit, you find yourself reaching your peak.

Alejandro watches you with heavy-lidded eyes, leaning back against the couch and a stupid smirk painted on his lips, seeming so smug over the fact he got you to fall apart on his cock...

Only to watch you dismount from him and take a seat beside him on the couch, your body feeling too hot and tired to even remain in touch with any part of his.

His smirk vanishes and he cocks a brow, giving you a silent, judgmental look, as if asking 'What are you doing? Get back here.'.

And his face downright settles into a scowl when you mirror him by raising your own brow and ask him "You're a colonel, you've got this, right? You don't need my help.".

And, with an extra little impish smile you add, "Don't be scared, I believe in you, caballito [horsie]!"

for @lyralein , so you stop fucking bullying me because I "never write Alejandro" or whatever 🫶

[dedeinthewild]

paul aron x reader, more than friends

~ "stand there and look good"

summary : As the sun sets, Paul and his photographer share laughs and snaps, with him playfully taking pictures of her in his helmet. They post a cute "soft launch" together, leaving everyone guessing, all while enjoying their cozy, carefree vibe.

The sun was setting slowly and relentlessly over the asphalt, illuminating them for the final moments as they wrapped up the penultimate track walk of the season, along the curves of the first circuit after the long autumn break.

“That’s so trueeee,” hummed the Estonian, walking and playing with his water bottle, unable to get that song out of his head.

“Paul Aron x Gracie Abrams coming soon,” joked one of his engineers, hands stuffed into the pockets of a pair of shorts.

“Gracie could never,” replied the girl Paul always had with him, as if he couldn’t be without her.

If he was there, then so was she—physically or otherwise.

Paul smiled, turning to look at her with his cap on backward and those ridiculously beautiful blue eyes. She was a few steps behind him, phone in hand, wearing the same shirt he had on, paired with an old pair of sweatpants that had seen more action than Paul had in his lifetime.

“That’s so trueeee,” he sang again, likely the only part of the song he actually knew, a fact that infuriated and amused her to no end.

“You’re an idiot,” she said, speeding up to catch him with a smile on her face. She snatched his cap and placed it on Karl, the Estonian’s trainer.

“Better,” she said, scrunching her nose ever so slightly and glancing toward the other drivers still on the track.

Some were wearing sunglasses, others were poring over notes and analyzing strategies for the circuit’s corners, flanked by their engineers.

The amber light of the sunset made her feel weightless, with her distinctive face, slightly tousled hair from the pleasant breeze, and Paul by her side.

“I bet it will sell out in two minutes,” she said, listening to how Paul and the others were chatting about the imminent drop of his collaboration with Parc Fermé.

“You would seriously buy Paul merch?” the same engineer asked.

The Estonian turned to throw an amused glare at the man behind him as they approached the exit of the track, heading to pit lane and eventually to the F2 paddock.

They ended up sitting on the floor in the garage as Karl rambled on about something nonsensical, and the mechanics tidied up for the following day.

Everyone had a good feeling about the race weekend. Perhaps the break had helped settle some of the doubts the driver had about the next season.

“You really think I’ll sell out?” Paul asked.

“As if you don’t think so too,” she replied, raising her eyebrows slightly, a soft smile on her face as she rested her chin on her knees.

“I mean, I know I have fans, but I’m unsure about what I’ll do,” he shrugged, grabbing the cap Karl had abandoned on the table and turning it over in his hands.

“Oh, come on, don’t get all doubtful now,” she said, moving closer so their sides pressed together against the wall they were leaning on.

Paul rested his head on hers, his gaze lingering on his signature printed on the front of her shirt and the big number seventeen stamped on her back.

“Pizza, pizza, pizza!” Karl shouted, excitedly carrying a stack of pizza boxes and setting them down beside them. They stood up, already savoring the thought of a hot slice.

“We’re being way too chaotic,” the girl laughed, settling onto a stool across from Paul and helping herself to a slice.

Karl perched on the edge of the table while someone had connected a speaker somewhere, and Paul’s playlist was creating a relaxed vibe in the garage.

“I wanna do something,” the Estonian announced, appearing by the cabinet where the girl had left her camera.

“You won’t do anything with my baby,” she teased, seeing him disappear with her camera in hand, the corner of his mouth still stained with pizza.

“Trust me,” he grumbled, grabbing his helmet and heading toward the walkway just outside. “And follow me,” he added with a smile.

She made to set her pizza slice down on the box.

“Keep it,” he said.

Karl and the girl frowned, trailing behind Paul out of the garage that housed his car.

“Stand there and look good,” the Estonian joked, pointing to a spot ahead of him where the last rays of the sun were still visible. Then he handed the camera to Karl and joined her.

“What if I don’t want to?” she asked.

“Shut up,” he laughed, sliding his helmet onto her head, gently tucking her hair inside.

He fastened the straps, leaning slightly to get a better view of the clasp while she looked at him through the open visor, wondering why he wanted to take pictures of her.

He handed her the slice of pizza, smiling as he stepped back to take some shots.

“Remember, I love you,” he said playfully, watching her roll her eyes with mock exasperation.

From behind her, he snapped photo after photo, capturing every fold of the number seventeen on her back as the fallen sun darkened their surroundings, leaving the streetlights reflecting off the pilot’s blue helmet.

The pizza slice, his name across her shoulders, and that friendly air that made her instantly likable to everyone.

“Are you done?” she asked, despairing over the pepperoni cooling atop the cheese.

He handed the camera back to Karl and walked over to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders for one last photo together, smiling as he looked at her.

Not long after, back inside the garage, the helmet removed and perched on their stools, she opened her laptop to download the photos from the memory card, opening them in her editing software.

“You’re good,” she said as Paul sat beside her, finishing off what Karl had left behind.

“I know,” he replied.

She raised an eyebrow at him, smiling softly as she adjusted a few details in the photos, noticing just how many he’d taken.

Because she, who hated being photographed, was the person who appeared most often in the Estonian’s phone gallery.

“What do you wanna do?”

He grabbed his phone, crossing his arms.

“Soft launch,” he said, looking directly into her eyes.

“You know that’s what couples do, right?”

The driver shrugged, either because that’s exactly what he intended or because he didn’t care.

“You’ll reach more people, and the little guessing game will be fun for them,” he said.

“If you say so,” she replied, opening his Instagram profile and uploading one of the photos where she was alone and one of the two of them together, adding a cryptic “Guess who?” as the caption.

They posted it and sat chatting, avoiding notifications for a while as they laughed and talked about the weekend, both smiling now that Paul had clarity about his future.

By the time Karl had wandered off to find a bathroom, the two of them were sitting on the floor again, as they often did.

She leaned back against his chest, phone in hand, laughing at the comments and story reposts, while Paul rested his chin on her shoulder.

“Do we really have to guess?”

“It was about damn time, Paul.”

“I think his aim was to promote, but hey, why can’t we gossip a bit?”

”_____ will get old and wrinkly before Paulito finally decides to admit he loves her.”

“I think three comments out of five hundred are actually about the merch,” she laughed, shaking her head in amusement.

“Maybe four,” he joked, wrapping his strong arms around her shoulders, pulling her closer.

Soft launch.

But did he really need to “launch” anything?

- not proofread or anything, so there might be a few errors :)

by now you surely have that I only write friends/bfs to lovers with Paulito, but I can't help it lol

It's kinda short and I don't know if I like it, so I'll be really happy to hear your feedbacks on it!

hope you like it🍀

[storm-angel989]

Dude, what about a Valentino x Daughter! Reader where they forget the door open or something like that, and she decides to go out (she's like, 3/4 years old) and when she comes back, she's holding a random cat and wants to keep it. I think it would be pretty funny lol

Also, i love your content!! 💕

THIS IS A DOUBLE.

Because in my tiredness last night I posted to the incorrect answer <3

“What do you mean you can’t find the baby?” Valentino screamed as he slammed his hands into Vox’s desk. “Where the fuck is my daughter?

In front of him, images flashed. Inside the building, outside, all throughout pentagram city. A still screen time stamped five minutes ago of his daughter wandering out the backdoor, propped open with nothing more than a wedge of cardboard. 

“I told those fuckers,” Vox began. 

“Find her, now,” Valentino cut him off. “I don’t care what you do, I’m going outside to…”

“Daddy, kitty!” 

Both men turned around to where Reader stood, cradling a black and white cat. They both stared at her in a mix of horror and disbelief. 

“Bebita, are you okay?” Valentino demanded as he ran to his daughter.

She took a step back. “Daddy no. You’ll scare kitty.”

Valentino stared at the creature clutched in his daughter's arms. Not only was the cat almost as big as she, but it truly was being held in a toddler’s death grip incredibly well. 

“Where the fuck did you find a cat?” He demanded. 

“Outside,” Reader replied nonchalantly. “Kitty needs home.”

“Oh fuck no, kitty does not need a home,” Vox began.

An expression crossed Valentino’s face. He stood up and turned to Vox.“You’re the one who lost my daughter. You tell her she can’t keep it. And no cheating.”

Vox set his jaw and stared at his niece and her newfound companion. “Reader. Sweetheart. You can’t…give Uncle Voxxy the cat.” He knelt down and reached out as if to take the cat from his arms.

To his dismay, the cat hissed.

“My kitty!” She yelled. “My kitty!”

“You know what, fine. Keep the cat, I don’t care,” Vox said with defeat. “I can’t say no to you.”

“My kitty!” Reader sang as she turned away. “My kitty need snack. Daddy? Snacks.”

Valentino glanced at Vox with an amused expression on his face. He turned away to follow his daughter back to the elevator.

“Your responsibility now,” he said aloud to Vox. “Feed it. Clean it. And if something happens to it, its on you.”

“Fuck me,” Vox groaned as the door shut. “Fuuuuccckkkkk”

[noneorother]

The secret timeline inside of Good Omens season 2 revealed, *part1*

Part 1 l Part 2

If you’ve ever watched a ballet or an opera, you know how the rhythm in the music is used throughout to determine not only the movements of the dancers, but also when lines are sung or spoken. This is almost unheard of in television, but what if I told you it was hidden in season 2 of Good Omens? If one were to, say, meticulously cut together only the scenes set in the present day into one big timeline, you would get one long video that is exactly 2 hours 22 minutes 00 seconds and 00 frames long. An ineffable cut that is so perfect it defies all logic. (I’ve burnt a timecode into this ineffable edit to help pick up the rhythm.)

Even though there are large swathes of the second season with no music, there is a constant tempo weaving its way through the show: What if the seconds ticking by in the runtime itself was the music? Here’s an example of what I found. Behold a supercut of every single time Shax shows up, or Hell is mentioned in series 2 in the ineffable edit. They always arrive on a 6 in the time stamp (ex: 00:XX:X6).

(SOUND ON is an absolute must here, otherwise you won't hear any of the triggers)

Shax rings Crowley on a XX:X6. Shax miracles herself into the car on a XX:X6. Shax knocks on windows on a XX:X6. Shax’s big scary moment at the bookshop happens at 66 minutes exactly (lol). Crowley calls out for Shax on a XX:X6. Beelzebub starts spewing flies on a 6. People mention hell and it’s always on XX:X6 etc. etc…(Bonus: I also left in Maggie flipping the damned the double-bird on a XX:X6) I’ve also left in the only appearance of Shax or hell at all in the whole series that isn’t tied to a six: the park bench scene with Crowley. Shax seems to be off by one line, showing up on a XX:10, then back to XX:X6 on her second reply: “Bills, mostly”. I can only theorise that this scene, while technically in season 2, is not supposed to *be* in season 2 (even just judging by the trees, sun and the overcoats, it’s not summer like in the rest of the season). And it’s not only sixes! Every time I go through I find more and more little beats that line up exactly with ineffable timings. I can only do one video per post, so I’ll have to cut it up into sections, but Gabriel, doors, car horns, bird calls, Aziraphale, food, drinks, Angels, dialogue, Maggie, Nina, jokes, clocks, bells… The list goes on and on. 

Neil called this season “The bridge”

Because we all know how much Neil loves double meanings and wordplay, I just have to ponder the idea that when Neil said this season was “the bridge” between seasons 1 and 3, he meant it double-literally. First, as in the bridge Aziraphale and Crowley have to cross in order to get them into position for the second coming. We even see the physical manifestation of this bridge leading everyone in the background of the opening credits. But this season is also a bridge in the sense that it’s a musical section that introduces new ideas or material in the middle of a song. This whole season is the music that deviates from the familiar, and re-contextualizes the chorus and the verses so we can appreciate them in a new way. 

Let’s not forget that 2:22 is also exactly the same timing as this (and only this) track from the good omens s2 album (read all about the soundtrack here):

Why is this so bonkers? I think GOS2 might be the first ever “Total” series of television.

Having everything in the series timed and choreographed would actually make it a very faithful adaptation of the Powell & Pressburger film The Tales of Hoffmann (read about the movie and it’s effect on all of s2 here). If you watch the tales of Hoffman, you will realize that the entire film is actually done more like animation, with the music and vocals all performed in a studio, mixed and edited first, and then the actors came back to act out their choreographed and lip-synched parts for the cameras afterwards. The result is "Total film": a movie that feels more like a ballet, with every movement, action, and line happening in time with the music. As far as I can tell, very few films have ever attempted this, with The Tales of Hoffmann and Playtime being the only two “complete” films I could find in this style. (The Red shoes has one section, and An American In Paris has a few)

“Why would ambitious filmmakers simply film an opera? Many admirers of the work of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger have assumed that their decision to make The Tales of Hoffmann (…) was in some way an admission(…) that they couldn’t go on making their edgy, over-the-top melodramas after the rejection and interference they’d suffered, (but) there’s a case for considering The Tales of Hoffmann as one of the finest and boldest works that Powell and Pressburger produced, so far ahead of its time as a wholly “composed” film... Late in his life, Powell himself said that he thought it was one of the best films that he and Pressburger had made.” - Criterion review, Tales of Hoffmann

Here’s a simple example from An American in Paris

If season 2 *is* scripted and choreographed to line up with specific timings, I’m pretty sure that would make this the first ever “total” or “composed” season of television ever attempted. Not only does this take an ASTOUNDING amount of planning, scripting and editing finesse, not to mention a completely controlled set, it takes a real understanding of how to perform as an actor using rhythm and metre, which would go a long way to explain why all of the main actors coming back for season 2, with the exception of John Hamm, are well regarded theatre performers, (especially of Shakespeare).

I’ll leave you with one last surprise I found in the discovery of the ineffable edit: remember Aziraphale’s smile at the very end if the credits? It happens on 02:23:03, as the first step off the bridge, and into season 3.

I will have much more in the next ineffable timeline post. Stay tuned…

__________________________________________

Thanks for reading all the way to the end. It’s taken me a solid month to get this perfect. There are so many hidden cuts and jumps to take into account, and I had a frame rate issue that kept exporting to 29fps instead of 25fps, but I’ve finally nailed the ineffable timeline enough that I am confident sharing in it.

Credits to @thebluestgreen and @embracing-the-ineffable for all the support and help with editing and just general good vibes. 

[woso-dreamzzz]

Rival III

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Not many people are happy at the next Arsenal game

Neither of your parents are smiling as you stroll into the Chelsea locker room.

Usually, you're very happy to wear your 'assistant coach' jersey but it had been a battle this morning that Momma and Morsa had ultimately lost.

You don't own an Arsenal jersey but you've managed to find a t-shirt of the same red shade so you're happy to wear that instead. To rub salt in the wound, you had cried and cried and cried until your mothers had also worn red t-shirts into the locker room - although they've hidden those under their jackets.

"Whoa!" Sam says in shock, gesturing fiercely at your top," What's all this?"

"Don't," Morsa says wearily," You'll set her off again."

"She's been crying all morning," Momma says," I know when to pick my battles." She gestures to you. "But, Sam, by all means, have a shot at it."

Sam comes and kneels in front of you. She pulls on the bottom of your top.

"It's Arsenal colour," You tell her proudly.

"I see that, y/n," She says," But wouldn't you prefer Chelsea colours? You'll be sitting on the Chelsea bench."

You shake your head. "I like Arsenal," You declare and the whole locker room goes quiet," They're the best. Not Wolfsburg best but best here."

The locker room erupts into outraged voices.

"What are you teaching her, Magda?!"

"How could you, kid?!"

"You let them corrupt her?!"

"Pernille, you can't let this happen!"

"y/n, don't say such slander!"

There's lots of screaming and arguing but you're not too phased. The Not-Wolfsburg locker room is pretty boring most of them so this is a bit entertaining but gets old quickly. You glance towards the door. You know the way to the Arsenal locker room. Maybe Daan will have another juicebox for you and Katie can talk to you in her silly accent.

You nod to yourself.

You should visit them.

As the adults argue, you wander towards the door, hand on the handle to open it when you're stopped. You follow the big arm to meet Millie's face.

"Sorry, kid," She says," No wandering off this time."

You stamp your foot and scrunch up your face. "Why? Just want to see Arsenal."

Millie scoffs. "I know you think you like Arsenal," She says," But you need to stay here." She ruffles your hair. "Chelsea's in your blood."

You stick your tongue out. "I have Wolfsburg blood," You say," And I do like Arsenal. I do! I do! I do!" You're insisting so much that Millie looks horrified when you burst into tears.

Momma breaks through the crowd to pick you up, bouncing you up and down. You wipe your sniffly nose on her Arsenal-colour t-shirt and continue to cry.

Magda pats Millie on the shoulder consolingly, her fellow defender looking completely heartbroken to have made you cry. "Welcome to my world," She says," No one can say a bad word against Wolfsburg or Arsenal in our house." She gestures to her own and Pernille's shirts. "She nearly made herself sick crying so much because we didn't want to wear the tops she chose for us." She pats Millie on the shoulder one last time. "Pick your battles."

No one is able to talk you out of your fashion choice and Emma looks betrayed as you take your place on the Not-Wolfsburg bench.

You wave excitedly as the teams come out, completely ignoring your mothers in favour of the Arsenal girls. Leah grins at you and Katie gives you a silly two finger salute. Beth and Daan wave at you, as does Jill.

You wave back happily, bouncing and you think you can see the other Not-Wolfsburg girls sink back into the bench in embarrassment.

Kick-off starts and you remain excited. Normally, at Not-Wolfsburg games you get bored but you're completely engaged in this one - barely stopping to get a drink.

But, just before half-time, you retreat back to your seat. Jessie and Niamh are both there, letting you squish between them and leech their warmth.

Jessie holds your drink up and you take a generous gulp, wiping your mouth clumsily with the back of your hand. Niamh clears her throat and pulls out a you-sized Not-Wolfsburg jersey.

"Are you sure you don't want to wear this?" She asks, waving it teasingly in your face.

You push it away and tug on your own shirt. "Is Arsenal colour," You explain it to her like she's slow," That's Not-Wolfsburg colour." You smooth down your shirt. "I like Arsenal!" You spy from across the pitch, Beth scoring a goal and you throw your arms up. "Arsenal! Yay!"

The Not-Wolfsburg bench slouches lower in their seats.

●～●～●～●～

The match ends with an embarrassing draw for Not-Wolfsburg and has even more embarrassing moments when you celebrate every goal Arsenal gets.

You zoom onto the pitch, completely ignoring your mothers to race across the see Daan and Beth.

Beth catches you underneath the arms and swings you onto her hip. Daan takes one of your hands, waving it around as you're carted away to the little group of Arsenal girls shaking hands with your mothers.

"Kid!" Katie says in her silly accent (Momma told you it was Irish but you think she keeps making up words) and plucks you from Beth's arms. She shakes you around and you giggle.

She places you on the ground and you're so dizzy that you stumble around, knocking into Leah's legs, who laughs delightedly at you.

"Leah!"

"My biggest fan!" She high-fives you. "You're looking good in Arsenal red!"

Momma and Morsa both groan which makes Jill laugh.

You nod excitedly. "Uh-huh! Arsenal's so cool!"

Pernille has to wrap a consoling arm around Magda as Leah crouches down in front of you.

"Well, since your mums are Chelsea fans, they'll probably never buy you a proper jersey so, here, take mine." She strips it from her body, pulling it over your head.

It's very sweaty and kind of smelly but you love it.

You hug her tightly. "Thank you, Leah!"

Pernille sees Magda's eye twitch in outrage.

[zarla-s]

Please don't take this as me being angry or trying to be rude or anything, but this ask is... baffling to me?? For a variety of reasons, haha.

Like, I don't set out to create a "fandom" around my stuff when I do things, I just do them cause I feel like it and sometimes I get lucky enough that people enjoy it and feel inspired to create or talk about it! I'm not really trying to fill a void left by one of these "fandoms" by making a new "fandom" around things I make, I'm just doing stuff.

The idea of a stockpile of interests getting too big is also bizarre to me? Like... for an example of both things, you can watch Stamp on the Ground, it's chock full of all kinds of weird obscure interests of mine I just put in there because I liked them, and I since have many many more. There isn't really a limit to how many interests you can have!

Mentioning abandoning TF2 is also very funny to me because I kind of already did that once?? When I started drawing it again in 2023 I was coming back to it, the last time I drew anything for it was 2009. Twelve years where I didn't even touch it! Starting up again was the last thing I expected and yet here I am!

Which relates to the greater point I guess which is that my interests and inspiration don't just die and disappear, they just go dormant. They're always waiting there for the right cue to wake them up, and I can never predict when it happens. TF2 is the most recent example! But Vargas is a long-running one, I take huge hiatuses from it where I don't write or draw or think about it for a long time, but it's always there in the back of my mind. I went absolutely nuts for it around 2020 and then it went back to sleep for the most part, but I still get ideas every now and then. It's not gone. It's just taking a break.

All the things I like and make stuff for are like that. There are a few I don't see myself coming back to any time soon, but then again I thought that about TF2 and now I've made the most elaborate site I've ever made for it. I can't predict these things. What'll be next? I have no idea. MGS again? StarCon2? Ace Attorney? Or maybe it'll be something new? Who knows!

And I think describing one of those "fandoms" as crumbling and dying is a bit unfair... I don't think of it like that. I mean, I started Vargas in 2003 and I last updated it in 2021 and I'm still hearing from new people that just got into it! All the stuff I've made is still "alive" in that way. I do feel guilty in that transition period between one interest and another because I feel like I'm disappointing people who followed me for that one thing though, haha. But what can you do? Gotta do my thing! Follow where my heart leads me! Not everyone's going to be along for the ride, and that's fine.

(Those of you have stuck around through all my different interests, I appreciate you deeply <3)