#and i will do EVERYTHING i can to give my time my work my heart to others

[bueckets]

Textbook Chemistry | Preview

Pairing: paige x tutor!reader

Description: What you thought would look good on your resume turns out to be a weekly exercise in restraint, where Paige Bueckers treats biology like a game she can win through sheer charm, and you try—try—not to let her get under your skin. She’s got no notes, no shame, and apparently no real fear of academic failure, just endless confidence and a talent for turning even the most basic study session into getting under your skin—in all the right ways.

Preview WC: 3.1k

The library is way too quiet. The kind of quiet that makes your own breathing sound deafening, where every shuffle of paper or tap of a pen echoes like a gunshot. It’s the kind of silence that should be perfect for studying. Should be.

Except Paige Bueckers is sitting across from you, and Paige Bueckers doesn’t give a single shit about studying.

Instead, she’s leaned back in her chair like she’s lounging courtside instead of being one bad test score away from academic probation. She’s got her long legs stretched out beneath the table, sneakers tapping lazily against the floor. Her hoodie—way too oversized for someone whose entire existence is dedicated to agility and precision—is slouching off one shoulder, and she’s twirling a pen between her fingers like she’s dribbling down the court with a shot clock winding down. The sleeves are bunched up just enough to show her forearms, strong and lined with faint muscle from years of training, but the only thing working right now is her mouth.

Grinning. Smirking. Teasing. Doing everything but reading the goddamn textbook in front of her.

“Alright, Paige,” you sigh, pushing your notes toward her for what has to be the third time. “We need to focus. You will fail this class if you don’t start studying.”

Paige doesn’t even blink. Doesn’t move an inch beyond a lazy stretch that makes her hoodie ride up just slightly, flashing the waistband of her shorts. Her smirk deepens like she can feel you noticing.

“Yeah,” she drawls, tilting her head, “but then I’d have to take it again next semester. Which means more quality time with my favorite tutor.”

You stare at her. She stares back. The kind of look that feels like a staredown before tip-off except way less athletic and way more are you seriously this insufferable?

She holds the eye contact, easy as anything, while you struggle to remind yourself that she is only your student, not a professional flirt sent to ruin your life. Her eyes gleam in the dim library lighting, playful and sharp at the same time. Her lashes are unfairly long, brushing against her cheeks when she finally blinks.

Your heart rate picks up. Not from that. From the academic crisis happening right now. Obviously.

“You’re not failing on purpose, right?” You narrow your eyes suspiciously.

Paige tilts her head, pretending to ponder, lips pursing slightly. “Hmm. No, but if I did, would that be kinda cute?”

You groan dramatically, dragging a hand down your face. “I am this close to committing academic misconduct and just taking the test for you.”

Paige gasps. Actually gasps, pressing a hand to her chest in faux offense. “Wow. I knew med school was intense, but I didn’t realize you were out here ready to commit federal crimes.”

“That’s it,” you announce, pushing back from the table. “I’m done. I quit. Find someone else to teach you about mitochondria.”

You barely make it an inch before Paige reaches across the table and hooks two fingers around your wrist, tugging you back down like you weigh nothing. Her grip is firm, all strength and control—like she’s grabbing a rebound, like she’s got her hands on the game ball in overtime. Your pulse jumps again, this time definitely because of that.

Her fingers linger for a second longer than necessary before she releases you. But she’s still watching you, expression softening just slightly around the edges. “C’mon, stay,” she says, voice lower now, like a secret. “I promise I’ll actually pay attention this time.”

You cross your arms. “Oh? And what changed?”

She leans forward this time, elbows on the table, chin propped on one hand. The lighting catches the sharp angles of her cheekbones, the curve of her jaw. She’s smiling, but it’s something different now—something slower. 

“Figured out that if I fail,” she murmurs, eyes locked on yours, “I won’t have an excuse to see you anymore.”

Your brain does a full system reboot. Error. What the fuck did she just say?

“Wh—Paige.”

She just winks, sinking her teeth iinto her bottom lip for half a second before her grin spreads, slow and satisfied. “What? That was cute, right?”

You grab your pen and point it at her accusingly. “You are so goddamn lucky you’re good at basketball, because if you had to rely on your brain—”

“I’d still get by,” she interrupts smoothly, shooting finger guns at you. “People tend to go easy on the charming ones.”

Your mouth actually falls open. Not on purpose—just an involuntary reaction to the sheer, unbelievable audacity of this girl. She’s failing biology, hasn’t written down a single note, and still has the goddamn nerve of a mathlete coasting through an easy A.

You snap your jaw shut, you refuse to let her see how flustered you are. You refuse. “Okay, charming one, then explain the process of cellular respiration.”

Paige squints, lips pressing together as she sucks in a breath through her teeth, nose scrunching like she’s really trying to make something shake in that head of hers. “Uh… it’s when cells… respire?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, inhaling slowly through your teeth. “We are so, so fucking doomed.”

She just laughs, kicking her feet out beneath the table, accidentally knocking her knee against yours. “Relax,” she says, her grin widening. “You love tutoring me.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah,” she nods, completely sure of herself. “You totally have a little crush on me.”

You let out a dry, incredulous laugh—one of those sharp, breathy ones, all eyebrows raised and head bobbing. “Yeah, sure.”

She shrugs, tapping a finger against the open page of her biology textbook like she might actually start paying attention. Then, without looking up—

“Nah, I know.”

You blink. Paige blinks back.

The air between you tightens like a taut shoelace, pulling, pulling—dangerously close to snapping. You could be the bigger person here. You could roll your eyes, let it go, return to the noble pursuit of keeping Paige Bueckers from academically imploding.

But something about the way she’s looking at you—too smug, too sure—strikes a competitive nerve in you. And you’re not about to lose anything to her. Not a game, not a staredown, and sure as hell not a battle of wits.

So you shift in your chair, tilting your head, letting your lips curl just slightly. “Oh, you know?”

Paige leans back again, arms crossed, shoulders loose. She’s cocky, sure, but there’s something anticipatory in her gaze—like she knows you’re about to challenge her and she’s thrilled about it.

“Mhm.” She nods, casual as ever. “Crystal clear.”

You hum, feigning thoughtfulness, tapping a finger against the open textbook. “Wow. Must be nice. I thought you struggled with retention, but here you are, remembering things that have literally never been said.”

She gasps. “Rude.”

“You’ll get over it,” you deadpan.

Paige, of course, does not let it go. She tips her chin up, meeting your gaze with something wicked and playful tangled in the blue of her eyes. “Okay, fine. You don’t have a little crush on me.”

You exhale, relieved.

“But you definitely think about me when I’m not around.”

Your breath catches. Paige sees it. Her grin stretches wider, knowing, smug.

Oh, you are not letting her have this.

You scoff, shifting back in your chair, fighting the warmth creeping up your spine. “Paige, you are in my life solely because you can’t pass basic biology. I think about you in the same way people think about a fire alarm that won’t stop beeping.”

“Ah, so constantly?”

You scowl.

She beams.

“That’s fair,” Paige shrugs, stretching her arms over her head, and the movement makes her hoodie ride up again, flashing a sliver of tanned stomach. “I am pretty unforgettable. Even when I’m annoying.”

“Especially when you’re annoying,” you mutter.

Paige smirks, but then, as if sensing your growing frustration, she sighs dramatically, rolling her eyes and dragging her textbook closer. “Alright, fine. I’ll study.”

You narrow your eyes. “For real?”

She winks. “Scout’s honor.”

“Paige, you were never a scout.”

“Prove it.”

You sigh but relent, watching as she flips open the book and actually—miraculously—starts reading the page in front of her. You take a sip of your now-cold coffee, reveling in the small victory.

For a blissful forty-five seconds, Paige is silent. Then—

“So, like,” she starts, “mitochondria. That’s the powerhouse of the cell, right?”

You pause. Blink. Lower your coffee. “Yes?”

Paige throws her hands in the air. “Let’s gooo. I’m a genius.”

You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Paige, you have three weeks until your exam. We need to cover way more than that.”

“Okay, okay,” she soothes, putting her hands up in surrender. “Next question.”

You flip to another page, glancing up briefly to make sure she’s paying attention.

She’s not.

She’s looking at you.

You pause, caught off guard by the way she’s watching you—not with teasing amusement or lazy smugness, but with something softer. Warmer. Curious.

“Paige,” you warn, shifting uncomfortably.

She blinks, then grins again, but there’s something slightly less sharp about it now. “Nothing, nothing,” she mutters, shaking her head, flipping a page in her book. “Just thinking.”

You hesitate, unsure if you want to ask, what about? But you don’t.

Instead, you clear your throat, turning your attention back to the book. “Okay. Explain the process of osmosis.”

Paige tilts her head dramatically. “Is that, like, when you just chil through life and things come to you naturally?”

“Oh my god, no,” you deadpan.

She grins. “Damn. Thought I was onto something.”

You sigh, rubbing your temples. “We are so fucked.”

Paige just laughs, bright and easy. “Nah. You’d never let me fail.”

She says it like it’s a fact. Like she knows, without a doubt, that you’d never let hers fall behind.

And the worst part is she’s most definitely right.

She twirls her pen between her fingers, spinning it effortlessly like a basketball rolling off the tips of her hands. It’s hypnotizing, actually—the smooth rotations, the lazy way her fingers flick with just enough control to keep it from dropping. She’s been doing this for the last ten minutes, and not once has she even pretended to read the page in front of her.

Meanwhile, you’re hunched over your notes, taking deep, steadying breaths. You tell yourself you won’t let her test your patience today. You won’t get dragged into her game. You won’t—

“Paige,” you say, voice strained.

“Hm?” she replies, still flipping her pen effortlessly.

“Please read.”

Paige hums noncommittally. Turns a page without reading it.

You inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth. “Paige.”

She finally looks up, resting her chin on her palm, eyes bright with amusement. “What? I’m absorbing information. Through osmosis.”

You close your eyes, count to three. Consider what your life would be like if you had literally any other tutoring assignment.

“You are so lucky you’re athletic,” you mutter, flipping the page back to where she was actually supposed to start reading. “C’mon. Photosynthesis. What do you know?”

Paige stretches her arms behind her head, her hoodie riding up slightly—distractingly—before she drops back down with a smirk, looking at you like she’s about to deliver the most groundbreaking scientific revelation of all time.

“Plants… make food?”

Your eyelid twitches.

“Correct,” you deadpan. “And they do that through—”

“The power of love,” Paige interrupts, placing a hand over her chest. “And sunlight.”

You grip the edge of the table. Consider flipping it over. “Yes. Because that’s what biology is. Disney magic and good vibes.”

Paige grins. “Exactly.”

You open your mouth—probably to unleash a scathing lecture about the sanctity of science—when a shadow hovers at the edge of the table. You glance up—because you always have to glance up when people stop by your study sessions with Paige—and find a girl, probably a freshman, clutching her phone like it’s a sacred artifact.

She shifts on her feet, looking like she’s debating whether she should even speak to Paige. You can already see where this is going.

“Uh, sorry to interrupt,” the girl says, eyes darting between you and Paige, before ultimately landing—unsurprisingly—on Paige. “Could I, um, get a picture? If that’s okay?”

Paige doesn’t miss a beat. She shifts effortlessly from Slacker Paige to Cool Superstar Paige, flashing an easy grin as she leans back in her chair like she expected this. Like this is as common as someone asking her to pass the salt at dinner.

“Of course,” she says, voice warm, inviting, polished. She stands smoothly, rolling her shoulders back, exuding that same relaxed confidence she has right before sinking a step-back three.

You, meanwhile, remain seated, taking a slow sip of your coffee, already resigned to your fate as Paige Bueckers’ unofficial designated library bodyguard.

It’s routine at this point. The public adoration, the excited stammering, the sheepish thank you so much before they rush off like they just met royalty. And then Paige slides back into her chair, knocking her knee against yours like she doesn’t have an entire fan club scattered across campus.

“Where were we?” she asks casually, flipping her pen again.

You don’t even blink. “You were pretending to study, and I was contemplating my life choices.”

Paige snorts. But before she can respond, another person approaches.

You glance up again, already prepared, already so tired.

This time, it’s a guy—tall, student-athlete vibes, definitely not looking at you.

“Hey, sorry,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly nervous despite the fact that Paige is already smiling at him like they’re old friends. “Could I get a picture real quick?”

Paige grins. “Yeah, of course.”

You take another sip of your coffee. Stare blankly into the abyss.

Same process. Paige stands, poses, flashes her million-dollar smile. The guy stammers out a thanks and hurries off.

You exhale. Set your coffee down. “You done?”

Paige barely has time to smirk before two more people shuffle up, practically vibrating with excitement.

She notices your unimpressed expression and loses it, biting her lip to keep from laughing. “Okay, now it’s funny,” she murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear.

“Now it’s funny?” you echo flatly.

She grins. “Yeah. You look miserable.”

You scowl. Paige beams.

Another five minutes pass before the final wave of admirers disperse, and Paige—finally—sinks back into her chair, looking far too pleased with herself.

“I should start charging,” she jokes.

You arch a brow. “Should I start charging? I’m the one sitting here like an unpaid security detail.”

Paige grins, drumming her fingers against the table. “You could be my manager, you know. We’d be an iconic duo.”

You scoff. “We’re not even an iconic study group.”

“Yet,” she corrects.

You roll your eyes but, reluctantly, glance at the time. The session should go another thirty minutes, but between Paige’s inability to focus and her impromptu meet-and-greet, you’re pretty much out of patience.

“Fine,” you sigh, shutting your book. “We’ll pick this up next time.”

Paige fist-pumps like she just nailed a game-winner. “Let’s go.”

You raise a hand. “But—”

Paige groans.

“You actually have to study next time,” you warn, pointing a finger at her like a parent scolding a child. “No excuses. No distractions. No impromptu fan club meetings.”

Paige nods solemnly. “Of course. One hundred percent. Fully locked in.”

You squint at her. “You’re lying to my face.”

She grins. “Yeah. But I did it really well.”

You let out a slow breath, collecting your things, already knowing that next time will be just as chaotic. But, somehow, you don’t hate the idea.

You barely make it two steps out of the library before Paige falls into step beside you, hands tucked into the front pocket of her hoodie, head tilted toward you like she’s waiting for something.

You don’t say anything.

Neither does she.

But she’s still there, walking at your exact pace, still spinning that damn pen between her fingers like she’s making it her personal mission to erode the last of your patience.

After half a block of this nonsense, you finally huff. “Why are you still here?”

Paige smirks, eyes twinkling. “Wow. I thought we were friends, and you hit me with why are you still here? I think I need to sit down. That was devastating.”

You resist the urge to shove her into a trash can. “You should sit down. With a biology textbook.”

“That,” she sighs dramatically, “sounds like a you problem.”

You groan, but the corners of your lips twitch—just slightly.

She glances at you again, side-eyeing, like she’s waiting for you to say something else. You don’t. So, instead, she nudges your arm with her elbow.

“You heading back to your dorm?”

“Yep,” you say, adjusting the strap of your bag. “Where some people go to actually study.”

Paige grins. “Fun. I was gonna hit the gym.”

You pretend to be shocked. “No way. The gym? You? Unheard of.”

She chuckles. “Yeah, yeah. Crazy concept. Gotta keep these knees in top shape so I can keep playing dumb for you in the library.”

You roll your eyes, but your lips do twitch again.

When you reach the intersection where you usually part ways, Paige hesitates—just slightly. Her foot taps against the pavement, and she glances at you, like there’s something she wants to say but doesn’t.

But then the crosswalk light changes, and she just flashes her usual grin. “Alright, I’ll see you next time. Can’t wait to waste more of your valuable time.”

You shake your head, already walking away. “You are a waste of my valuable time.”

Paige calls after you, voice dripping with smug amusement. “Admit it! You’d be bored as hell without me!”

You don’t respond. Maybe, just maybe, she has a point.

Comment below for taglist. Thank you for reading.

[meleebites]

🧸 Hugs, kisses, snuggles, words. He's very warm.

🦢 "You need to stop snoring, Gorey. I'm a light sleeper." "I told you far too many times that I can sleep on the couch if you can't sleep with me!"

🍡 How many times have I answered this question? He has no nicknames for me, I call him everything in the book that isn't "babe", "bae" or "baby".

🪽 Still working this part out but damn was it ever warm and comforting. He deserved it. His soft lips deserved it. <3

🪺 "Oh, he's pretty and he's nice and I kinda wanna hug him." to "Most charming man alive, 10/10, I'd marry him and start a new family with him."

🪷 Picture a divorced middle-aged man starting a selfship blog. That's literally it.

🧊 Proper grammar, emojis (particularly hearts), no extreme tones. Has autocorrect.

🍋‍🟩 Probably something cheesy. "My beloved Kannon ♡" "MY PRECIOUS BUTTERCUP ♡"

💍 We'd get married ASAP if we didn't care about how long we've been a thing for. Asgore would LOVE to get married, as his last divorce really affected him and he wants to get back what he once had, but he'd be nervous about me leaving him like he normally is. I'm a bit less ready for marriage, as I have less experience and am younger, but I want our bond to get even stronger so nothing could tear us apart.

🪻 In source his favourite is golden flower tea. He'll drink any herbal or floral tea. He probably doesn't drink them cold usually.

☁️ We don't actually do much, come to think of it. We just coexist and breathe in each other's air. And eat. And sleep. And play games. And go on walks. And make out. And cuddle. And travel. Or something close.

🛍 He always gives me flowers. They mean a lot to him. He gives me ones that remind him of me. I mostly get him food, or I make art for him, or whatever he asks me to get him... but if he does that, he's in a great mood. He usually tells me not to buy or get him anything as he says he is undeserving of gifts. He isn't.

🫧 Skipping this one yet again as it's difficult for me.

🪼 Writing fanfiction is something I do to cheer myself up. I'm good at writing (I think) so I always have a fanfiction I'm working on. Unfortunately, I don't really share these as the contents are usually sexual and might offend some people. It's not proshippy though, that stuff's gross.

misc. selfship asks ❤︎

thank you for 400! <3 answer these asks however you'd like, but please practice reblog karma if applicable! 💌

🧸 - how would your f/o try to comfort you if you were upset? 🦢 - what's a petty argument you'd have with your f/o? 🍡 - what nicknames do you have for each other?

🪽 - what was your first kiss with your f/o like, if you've had it?

🪺 - describe your f/os perception of you before you got together, compared to what it is now! 🪷 - if the roles were reversed and your f/o was the one selfshipping with you, what would their blog look like?

🧊 - how would your f/o text you? would they use proper punctuation/capitalization, or type more informally?

🍋‍🟩 - similarly, what would your contact names be for each other?

💍 - how do you and your f/o feel about marriage?

🪻 - what's your f/o's coffee or drink order?

☁️ - how does your f/o like to spend their free time with you? 🛍️ - what would your f/o get you as a gift? additionally, what would you get for them?

🫧 - what song(s) remind you of your f/o?

🪼 - what’s your favorite way to feel closer to your f/o?

proship/comship/neutral dni

[wearysparrows]

Chariot

ao3/masterlist

Summary: Caleb fingers you in his car, but you’re interrupted by a phone call. It doesn’t seem to deter him much, though.

cw: female reader, reader is mc, vaginal fingering, grinding, pseudo-incest, caleb referring to himself as your brother, porn with feelings, light spanking, caleb being talkative because he's caleb, sex while on the phone, Zayne gets caught in the crossfire, not beta read, 5K

“You still act frugal, but your Colonel’s salary must be pretty cushy if this is what you drive.”

You sat, arms crossed, in the passenger’s seat of Caleb’s car. It didn’t fit your childhood image of him at all – freckled skin and a bright smile, hands that were tanned and deft at breathing life back into long dead machinery. Caleb had turned more than one beater into something functional enough to drive you around in. He did it for fun. A friend's car that needed work was somehow always in the lot, or something Caleb had miraculously turned drivable in his precious free time. The black interior of the Lamborghini, with its blue backlighting, felt cold, sterile. This was Colonel Xia’s vehicle, not Caleb’s car. Caleb wouldn’t drive something like this. Not your Caleb. Together, you sat parked in an empty lot, one that overlooked the bustling nighttime lights of Skyhaven below. A dry summer wind buffeted the outside of the car, unable to touch you. Caleb turned his face toward you in the dark, eyes illuminated by the cool lights on the dash. It gave you the impression of light bouncing off the dark, untouched gems of a cave. Far away. A vein that couldn’t be mined.

“It’s not an act, baby. I still am frugal. Besides, my Colonel’s salary lets me spoil you –  just like I always wanted to. And the car lets me take you places. You hate it that much?”

His elbow was resting on the console, supporting his weight. His desire to hear the truth of your opinion was evident in his tone. Caleb never wanted you to lie to him, even if it hurt. You dragged the pad of your index finger over his knuckle bones – or rather, the plating that had replaced his knuckle bones – watching as it rose and fell over them. The paneling was scratched here and there, as if it had taken numerous beatings. Things we wouldn’t tell you of. His fingers twitched under your touch. You wondered if it was a reflex, a remnant of when the arm still boasted flesh on its outside. You knew he couldn’t feel the contact. Your heart ached dully for him, filling up the space between your diaphragm and lungs. You would have shared his pain, if you could. You wanted the same pain. The same everything. Two of everything. Always.

“You make it sound like everything you do is for me. It’s not that I hate it. It’s just not you. And there’s this huge divider between us,” you gestured to the console, which was stupidly large, and felt like a wall to keep Caleb out. Or maybe one to keep you in.

 “Besides, if I said I hated it, would you really get rid of it?”

Caleb reached for your hand that was playing with his fingers, and interlaced yours with his own. The metallic chill of his touch made gooseflesh rise along the skin of your forearm. The certainty of its steel had become something that grounded you.

“It doesn’t just sound that way. It is that way.”

Caleb was quiet for a moment before continuing, holding your hand, a peculiar stillness over him, as if considering the latter half of your statement. 

“If it’s the distance that bothers you,” his thumb stroked the top of your hand, tracing the valleys between your metacarpals.

“We can close it. You just have to give me the OK.”

With how Caleb had been acting after his return, you didn’t doubt the seriousness of his statement. When you came too close, he embraced you, but warned you he wouldn’t let you off the hook if you kept going – even if you claimed it was only on a whim. Your hands could only roam so far.

I can’t promise I’ll keep my cool whenever you do that. So don’t go any further.

You wanted to see Caleb lose his cool. You wanted to see it again. 

“OK, Colonel. Enlighten me. How will you close this big distance between us in your fancy car?”

You only had a moment to catch the wry smile that crossed over Caleb’s face before you were suddenly being lifted from your seat, weightless, the blue fractals of his evol reflecting in the lights from the dash. Its sound was all too familiar, a low hum, like the air was alive with its energy. An involuntary sound of surprise escaped you, and you were deposited neatly astride Caleb’s lap. While he had been commandeering the very gravity around your body, defying laws that everyone else had to adhere to, he had adjusted the back of his seat so he was leaning back, giving you more clearance to sit on top of him. Your skirt had hiked up around your thighs, and Caleb adjusted it back down your legs, eyes still on your face. His fingers against your skin sent hot energy skittering down your spine. You wanted them inside you, all over you.

“We’ve closed the distance. Physically speaking, anyway.” 

His tone was lighthearted, but laced with something else you couldn’t quite place. Not quite hope. Closer to resignation. His hands hovered around your calves, like he couldn’t decide on where to put them, before landing on the lower half of your thighs. Both big. One warm, one cold.

“I like the car a bit better from this angle. Though I’m still not wholly convinced.”

You looked into his face as you spoke, ignoring the interior of the car. He did look good from this angle, underneath you. He looked good from any angle. There was a reason he was unfathomably popular growing up. He seemed to have shed all of it, caging himself in his singular need for your affection. You reached out to his face, and pinched his nose between your index finger and thumb. He scrunched his face up in response, wiggling his nose, before you let him go. 

“What, you’re not satisfied with my nose, either? I’m not sure I can replace it as easily as the car, pipsqueak.”

His fingers played with the hem of your skirt, slipping underneath it. His thumbs stroked your bare skin. Forbidden heat clawed its way into your stomach. You gave him an excuse for wanting to touch his face, to make it yours.

“I’m not dissatisfied with it. I just own the air.”

Caleb paused, and a little smile replaced his curious look. His eyes crinkled up at the corners. His gaze on yours was full of a barely restrained burning intensity. 

“You own me, too.”

His casual admission of ownership left you unable to find words. Your skin prickled where the calloused pads of his fingers touched your bare skin. It was too much, not enough. He was always toeing the line, testing the waters, pulling away when he saw any hint of indecision on your face. You passed your hand over the dog tags that sat against his chest, and they clinked softly under your touch. Cold, like his right hand on your leg. You had insisted he wear it in its true form, without the false skin, and he had readily complied, despite his discomfort. You preferred his true self, even if he didn’t. Your Caleb was perfectly flawed. His eyes followed the movement of your fingers as you tangled them in his necklace. He spoke gently, in that tone colored with nostalgia he often used when he recalled memories of your shared childhood – both the good and the bad. 

“You know, when you were really little, you saw a drawing of Apollo driving his chariot of the sun across the sky in a picture book I was reading to you. You asked me if I’d be able to do the same one day, when I could fly. If I could pull the sun across the sky, led by white horses. I told you I’d do my best to live up to your image of me. So I’ve got all kinds of chariots for you. This is just one. If you don’t like it, I’ll get you another. Just tell me what kind you want.”

You heard the ring of your brother’s voice, the boy you had grown up with. The one who had taken you to the arcade, paid with his allowance. He cheated with his evol to win you toys when he couldn’t win by honest means.

Just tell me which one you want, and I’ll get it for you. I’ll get them all.

You studied Caleb’s earnest face in the dim light. The soft swoop of his hair over his brow, which cast dark shadows on his eyes that betrayed his depth of feeling, and kept it locked tight, all at once. The perfect slope of his nose, freckles given by the kiss of the sun. His full lips, chapped and bitten. Even in the heaviness of the night, he was still somehow radiant. The dark space of the car couldn’t contain him. You felt yourself soften towards him, your earlier irritation at his show of being the Colonel melting under his true light. 

“I guess being the Colonel of the Far Space Fleet is about as close as you can get to driving the sun across the sky. In the modern day, anyway.” 

Caleb chuckled, a soft, boyish exhale of air. He looked up at you with adoration so clear that it made something twist hotly in your chest. It was so different from the face he had worn the first time you had seen him again. That horrible mask of indifference. That damned uniform. So divorced from the image of your Caleb that you had doubted it was really him. But it was him. A side he had never shown to you. The two Calebs spread each other's gore across the sky, curling and reaching as blood did in water.

“That almost sounded like a compliment, pretty girl. Is the sun going to rise in the west tomorrow?”

Your mind conjured the image of Caleb lashing the sun across the sky in the west, forcing it to act the opposite of its nature. If anyone could do it – it was Caleb. Nothing seemed beyond him, even now. He had come back from the dead, after all. The cosmos no longer seemed such a tall order. Not even stars could return from the land of the departed. They only left black holes behind in their wake. You fanned one hand thoughtfully across his chest, feeling his heartbeat. It quickened, then stilled, then quickened again.

“I guess that’s up to you, isn’t it?”

Caleb grinned in response to your question, a real smile, showing you his rows of white teeth. He had canines that were just slightly longer than usual, one of which was just a little crooked. You had poked at them with your fingertips as a child, pressing them deeply into your skin, and watched the marks they left with unbridled curiosity. The pain was a kind you liked, because it had come from him. He had let you explore his mouth with your fingers, his tongue chasing behind them. He had done the same to you. Once, he had stroked the back of your tongue a little too hard, and you gagged on his fingers. His eyes had gone wide, and the game had ended when Caleb disappeared in his room for the rest of the day, leaving you wondering what you had done wrong.

You wanted to lick the inside of his mouth, to press your tongue against his. The direction of your gaze didn’t go unnoticed.

“Interested in my mouth?”

His hand rose to your face, thumb parting your lips, just like he used to. You licked at it with the flat of your tongue, and heard him inhale sharply through his nose in response.

“Yeah. It looks much better when you’re not talking so much, though.”

Caleb pulled you down to him, so that you were chest to chest. His voice was soft and sweet in your ear. He was hard underneath you. He had been for some time. You had both been ignoring it. It was the standard between you, something that was never discussed. It just was.

“Really? But I was gettin’ the impression you liked talking to me. You started calling me every day, again. You text me all the time, too. You even send me cute pictures of yourself. I especially liked the one where–”

You put a hand over his mouth, not wanting to hear him tell the truth of how you had teased him over text. Your elbow was resting on his chest in order to do so, and his dog tags dug painfully into the bones of your arm.

“Shut up, Caleb.”

His voice was muffled from behind your hand. You could feel the natural wetness of his breath against the skin of your palm as he spoke.

“Do you really want me to? Or are you just sayin’ that because you’re embarrassed? It’s just me. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

You heard the unspoken words behind his statement. Caleb had already seen every part of you. He had seen more of you than people who had been inside of you. He had wiped your tears, your snot, your vomit. Your blood. None of it fazed him. He wanted it. You sat back so that you were sitting on his thighs. Your hands hovered over his belt, tugging on it, but not undoing it. Caleb watched, gaze snapping between your hands and your face. Even in the low light, you could see the new flush that colored his ears and cheeks.

“You’re making me want to push my luck, baby. Is this a test of my self control?”

You stuck your thumb underneath the portion of his belt that was held down by the buckle.

“And if it is?”

Caleb took a breath through his mouth, and his words came out a strained rasp.

“Then I’d ask if you want me to pass with flying colors,”

His hand wrapped a firm grip around your wrist, one you couldn’t deny, and guided it to press against his cock through his cargos. Even through the layers of fabric, he felt so impossibly warm.

“Or fail miserably. ” 

You felt yourself warm from your chest, head becoming so hot so quickly that you felt a wave of lightheadedness. You had seen and felt Caleb hard under your eyes and ass many times – but he had never once made a move to acknowledge it. Seeing your hand against the outline of him sent a new kind thrill racing through you. You had imagined touching him like this more times than you could count. Putting him in your mouth. Responding to his interest. But you couldn’t, then. Not if he didn’t acknowledge his want. Now, things were different. Caleb wasn’t just a boy anymore. He wasn’t the king of the playground, the star of his highschool basketball team, nor the Valedictorian of his DAA class. He was a man. A man who wanted you. Openly.

“I’d like to see you fail at something, for once.” 

You removed your hand from his grip, prying his fingers from your wrist, and worked his belt buckle open. The jingle of the metal suddenly seemed ridiculously loud in the small space of the car’s interior to your ears. When it was free, you pulled his zipper down, down. Your fingers felt strange, weak. Like you couldn’t quite get enough power in them to do what you wanted to do. The zipper caught, more than once. You heard Caleb’s breaths coming quickly through his nose, and felt more than saw the heat of his gaze on you as you worked. He made no motion to assist you – either enjoying your struggle or holding himself back – you couldn’t be sure. Maybe it was both. 

Caleb’s hands were around your waist, then, and he lifted you back into his lap, setting you squarely over his cock. The only barrier between you was that of your underwear and his boxers. He had shucked his jeans further down his legs with his evol. His grip on your waist was so tight that it was nearly painful, pressing into your bones, and he used it as leverage to roll his hips up into yours. Being with him like this – it was surreal. So much familiar, and so much was so strange. Like a shared dream. There was no hiding how wet you were when you pressed up against him like this. His eyes looked so dark that they were nearly black, the deep lilac of them nearly erased by his pupils. His thumbs lifted the hem of your skirt, hiking it up over your hips, and he looked down between your legs for the first time, as if he was finally given permission.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

You felt him twitch underneath you. Once, twice.

“Are these the ones I bought for you?” 

Your mind, having been emptied of everything except for the feeling of his newfound closeness, took a moment to recall what he was talking about. You looked down at the place where he was touching you, thumbs digging pleasantly into the muscles of your hips. It was, in fact, not the usual article. Being a hunter, it wasn’t exactly comfortable to wear anything that was less than practical most of the time. But today was your day off – and you had opted to change into a pair that Caleb had supplied in the room he had given you at his house. (At the time, you had tried not to let your mind wander as to why he had supplied so many pairs in both your size and the brands you liked. But you knew Caleb. You had your suspicions – just more things you didn’t acknowledge.) You managed a nod. You hardly managed to feel embarrassed about it, though. He made it so easy to do as he wanted, so comfortable.  Even when you were still so angry with him – because everything he did benefitted you.

Caleb keened in response, a low whine in his throat, and the flat of his palm suddenly met your ass with a soft smack. The feeling went straight between your legs. It was something you hadn’t even known you wanted from him. Now, you suddenly wanted more.

“You’re so cute. Lift up. Hold yourself over me.”

You did as he asked, too caught in the heat of the moment to argue, bracing yourself by gripping the sides of the driver's seat, hovering over him with your knees on either side of his lap. You were dimly aware that he could have lifted you with his evol, but he was making you work for it, instead. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but any reservations you had were quickly forgotten when you felt Caleb’s hands drift up the back of your thighs. He squeezed your ass, and smacked it again, like he just couldn’t help himself. It was harder than the first time, and stung more with the impression from the first still smarting. Your body tensed up all over in reaction to the impact, your breath leaving you through slightly parted lips.

“That’s my good girl.”

Before you could voice any kind of response to his praise, he was pulling your underwear to the side, his fingers finding you slick and ready for him. One and then two were inside you, giving you hardly any time to prepare or adjust. He was so eager. It was hard to believe the wet sounds were coming from his fingers inside of you. You shifted your hips back against his hand. Caleb was breathing open-mouthed underneath you, eyes laser focused on your face, watching your responses, drinking them in. His fingers were so much longer than your own, and touched you in places you couldn’t feel without him. 

“I’m inside of you, baby. Holy shit. You’re so wet. I’m the only one you get like this for, right? No one else but me. C’mon, tell me.”

It was hard to formulate a coherent thought when he was giving his all to thoroughly fucking you open with his fingers. You opened your mouth, willing at least the admittance of the truth to come out. Yes, he was the only one. Even when you had been with other men, you had searched for Caleb in the downturn of their eyes, in the largeness in their build, in the freckles on their faces, in the softness of their hair. You had never wanted anyone else. No one else could get you this worked up with just a few words and a simple touch. Caleb was the only one who aroused such strong emotion in you – anger, hatred, arousal. Love.

Just as you found your voice in the depths of your throat, the sound of your phone ringing from the console where you had placed it rudely interrupted. It was the same ringtone Caleb had chosen for you years ago, when he had been fiddling with your phone without permission, messing with your settings. After he had died, you hadn’t the heart to change it. It would have been like erasing one of his last impacts on your life. Caleb’s fingers inside you hardly paused, and you watched, stupefied, as his evol brought your phone towards you. You both looked at the caller ID at the same time. 

Zayne’s name illuminated the screen.

You saw a strange expression flicker over Caleb’s face as you turned back to him, before he schooled it into an easy smile. He pressed his fingers inside of you, as deep as they would go.

“Answer it.”

You gawked at him. His fingers curled inside of you. There was no way you could answer the phone right now. Let alone to talk to your doctor, your childhood friend. Why did he have to choose now, of all times, to call? Zayne never called. Why now?

“Caleb–”

He shook his head, eyes firm.

“If you won’t, I will. Put it on speaker.”

His voice was hard. It was the same one he used on you when you were kids, when you knew you had no other choice but to obey him. Usually for your own good. You were still hovering over Caleb’s body, and your arms were beginning to ache with the effort of holding yourself up. You pressed answer, and Caleb’s evol oh-so-kindly held the phone up to your face. Zayne’s voice came from the other end of the line, distant but palpable with underlying concern, even in his singular word.

“Hello?”

You did your best to collect yourself, while Caleb seemed to pay your struggle no mind. He only worked to bring you closer to the edge. Your thighs began to shake, your muscles protesting the position. 

“Zayne? Is everything okay?”

Your voice wavered, but you managed. Caleb palmed himself with his right hand as you spoke, a loud shuffling of fabric.

“Everything’s alright. I saw you were in Skyhaven – and in a fairly isolated area. I…was concerned.”

He sounded like he was choosing his words carefully, not asking you to reveal too much, nor revealing much about his own intentions. You were mid-wondering how the fuck Zanye knew where you were and why he had to call now, of all times, when you were at your worst, when it came back to you. You had shared your location with him when you had commandeered his unique skill set for an investigation just some weeks prior, deep into the mountains. You must have forgotten to turn it off. You didn’t have time to wonder why he was checking it after the fact. Guilt threatened to creep behind your eyes. You swallowed it away before answering.

“I’m…okay. I’m with a friend.”

Caleb’s movements inside of you became punishing in response to your words, pushing in and out, his thumb working your sensitive nerves. He smacked your ass again, and it was loud. You knew by the way he was acting that he wanted Zayne to hear what was happening. They weren’t exactly rivals during childhood – but Caleb had certainly seemed to see it that way. He made no effort to dampen the sounds he was eliciting from your body, not the slap of your skin, nor the wetness between your legs. You corrected yourself, hoping to soothe his anxieties, and implore him to give your body reprieve while you were on the damn phone.  

“I mean – I’m with Caleb.”

He was smiling underneath you, looking all too pleased with himself at your amendment. He cupped your breast through your shirt, squeezing it, rolling his fingers over the soft flesh there. His scent was everywhere around you. Clean laundry. A new day. Summer sun on skin. Freshly trimmed wheatgrass. It stuck in your throat pleasantly.

Zayne was quiet for a long moment. 

“Caleb? Your brother, Caleb?”

The reminder of just whose fingers were inside you caused you to clench around Caleb’s fingers in response. There was a flurry of movement, and Caleb shoved his boxers down without warning. You heard his cock slap heavily against his stomach as it sprang free. His fingers came out from inside of you, and one hand forced your hips down so that you were sitting directly on his cock, your underwear still pushed to the side. He wasn’t inside of you – just slipping wetly in between your legs. The other hand forced your head close to his mouth, fisting in the back of your hair, tugging. Your scalp prickled with pinpoints of lovely pain. His voice just above a harsh whisper in your ear. 

“That’s right. I’m your fucking brother. Are you going to tell him what you’re doing with your brother right now?”

Caleb repeated the word 'brother' with such vitriol that it was practically a snarl, rather than a word. The phone was still held aloft next to your face. 

“Y-yeah. My brother, Caleb. I’ll explain later, Zayne. I gotta…gotta go.”

There was another excruciatingly long silence. You would apologize later. Profusely. With excuses.

“Alright. As long as you’re safe.”

Zayne sounded wholly unconvinced, and like he wanted to say something more, but stopped himself short.

“Yeah.”

The phone dropped back onto the console with a dull thud, and you prayed upon every star that would listen Zayne had hung up of his own accord. Caleb dragged your face to his by your hair, his lips and teeth clacking into yours. He licked at the roof of your mouth, sucked your tongue, bit at your lips. Zayne’s words had set Caleb off, and his unresolved energy was practically radiating off of him in droves. His hand was on you again, pleasuring you, while bracing you by the hips with his other, sliding you up and down the length of his cock with barely controlled ardor. Your orgasm was upon you only seconds later, the anxiety of the phone call, the intensity of the situation, and the stimulation from both his cock and fingers were enough to crest you over the edge with a shuddering breath, inhaling the air from Caleb’s mouth into yours, the sweet taste of his breath your new reality.

Your arms finally gave up their valiant effort of holding you above Caleb, and you collapsed on top of him. His arms were instantly around you, his face pressed into the crook of your neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin there. He came from rutting against you with a catch of his breath in his throat and a stuttering groan, and you felt the pulses of his orgasm between you, his spill hot against your skin. The heave of his chest lifted you up and down, up and down, in time with his breath. You braced yourself against his chest with the flat of your palm, lifting yourself to look him in the face. He was still just as hard underneath you, despite having just finished. Caleb’s head followed your upward movements, and he licked a stray bead of sweat from your cheek, up the side of your face like a dog. The wetness left behind from his tongue felt cool in its absence. You smacked a fist against his chest as he lay back.

“You are the worst. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you?”

You couldn’t muster any real malice to bolster your words. Being with Caleb set your heart on edge and at ease, and he was the only one who could make your body feel as it just had. Caleb put the fingers that had just been inside of you in his mouth before answering your question, licking them clean of you. His free hand – the mechanical one – carded through your hair, brushing sweaty strands from your forehead. His expression was back into one of sweetness.

“Yeah, angel. I told you I’m the worst version of Caleb, didn’t I? I want to do all kinds of terrible things to you. Make sure you have everything you need. Everything you want. Be by your side. Wake up to you in the morning. Be inside of you. Keep you where no one else can find you. A world that’s just you and me.”

Caleb’s soft emphasis on the word terrible made it sound like he meant something else entirely. Like he was telling you his innermost, fervent dream. One that he had tried so hard for so long to make a reality. His hand cupped your face now, and you placed your own over it, nuzzling into the cool assuredness of the metal. Your voice came out barely a whisper.

“I must be the worst version of me, too. Maybe I want to hurt you more than you realize. Maybe I want you to suffer before you can have those things. Before you can give them to me.”

Caleb blinked up at you, and warmth spilled onto his face, into the ripening plums of his irises. Everything was reduced to him in that moment, and he was the pinpoint of the cosmos center as he spoke.

“Sufferin’ and pleasure – if they’re from you, they’re the same to me. Anything you give me, I’ll take it. I want it. If it’s from you, it can only be good.”

[insidekatmind]

Distraction-Brock Rumlow

Your breathing is calm, but your heart beats a little faster than usual. You're used to these missions, living on the edge, but there's something about this situation that feels off. Maybe it's the plan. Or maybe it's the fact that Steve asked you to distract Brock Rumlow, the most unsettling agent you've ever met.

"Y/N, I need you to cover for me. I have to talk to Pierce, and we can't afford for Rumlow to get in the way. You're the only one who can pull this off," Steve said to you, his tone serious but his gaze full of trust.

"Do you have any idea how obsessed he is with me?" you replied, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Exactly why I asked for your help. I need time, and you're the only one who can keep him busy," he replied, a faintly apologetic smile on his lips.

You sighed, knowing you couldn't say no. Steve is your best friend, and you trust him more than anyone else.

Now, here you are, in the hallway of the S.H.I.E.L.D. base, and Brock Rumlow is standing in front of you. He's staring at you with that look that always makes you want to roll your eyes.

"Rumlow," you say with a forced smile, "can I talk to you in private?"

He raises an eyebrow, but a smug grin quickly spreads across his face. "Sure, Y/N. Where do you want to go?"

"Your office. It's important." Your voice is steady, but your stomach churns at the thought of what you're about to do.

He leads you to his office, closing the door behind him. You sit in the chair across from his desk, trying to appear relaxed, but you know you need to keep him occupied for as long as possible.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" he asks, leaning forward with a smile that makes you want to punch him.

You improvise. "I was thinking... have you ever considered stepping out of your comfort zone? You know, doing something different with your life?"

He chuckles, a low, amused sound. "And what do you have in mind, Y/N?"

"Well," you begin, careful not to let your nerves show, "you're always so... intense. Maybe you should try relaxing, having some fun. You know, not everything has to be about work and missions."

Rumlow looks at you, visibly intrigued. "Interesting. And how do you think I should do that?"

You drag the conversation out as long as possible, talking about improbable hobbies, movies he's never seen, and even suggesting a yoga class, all while your mind stays focused on Steve. How much more time does he need?

Meanwhile, Rumlow seems to be enjoying himself. It's obvious he's too distracted by you to worry about anything else happening elsewhere.

While you continue babbling, Rumlow approaches you like a predator and caresses your cheek, smiling at you. You go abruptly silent when you feel his touch on your cheek. His hand is warm and surprisingly gentle, but his gaze is as intense as ever. "You know," he says, his voice low and playful, "you're quite entertaining when you're not arguing with me." He moves closer to you, his body only inches from yours.

You look at Brock in surprise. "Oh, really?" You whisper, hoping Steve would finish quickly. He grins, seemingly amused by your reaction. His gaze travels from your eyes down to your lips, and then back up.

"Oh, yes." He responds, lifting your chin gently. "You get all flustered, trying to prove a point, and your cheeks flush." His fingers trace your jawline, his touch feather-like. You're hyper-aware of his proximity, and you remind yourself to stay calm, to keep stalling.

"It's kind of adorable," he continues, his voice a soft rumble. "And you have my undivided attention, darling." He leans in even closer, his face just a breath away from yours. His smile is still present, but there's something different in his eyes:a hunger, a desire. Your heart quickens, and you remind yourself once more that you're doing this for Steve. Keep him busy just a little longer.

Smile. “Does the great Brock find me adorable?” you ask getting flirty, you were trying to give Steve as much time as possible. He chuckles, clearly enjoying your change of tone. "Adorable and infuriatingly cheeky," he replies, a hint of amusement in his smirk.

He's so close now, his body almost touching yours. His hand is still on your chin, his thumb brushing lightly against your jawline. "You've got quite the mouth on you," he adds, "and right now, I'm rather curious about what other uses you might have for it."

You held back so hard not to slap him and you fake a smile by biting your lip. His gaze darkens as he notices your lip between your teeth, and he moves even closer, his body pressing against yours. "Careful, darling," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "You keep biting your lip like that, and I might get a few ideas of my own." His eyes roam your face, taking in every detail, and you can't help but fidget under his intense scrutiny.

His lips hover just above yours, so close that you can feel his hot breath on your skin. "You're so tense," he observes, his body almost trapping you against the chair. "What's the matter, Y/N? Is something bothering you?" His hand slides down from your jaw to your throat, his touch both tender and possessive at the same time.

You gulp involuntarily, the feel of his hand on your throat making your heart pound faster. "No, I'm fine," you manage to say, your voice not nearly as steady as you'd like. He raises an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. "Are you sure?" he purrs, his thumb tracing a slow, lazy circle on your pulse point. "Because you're shaking."

His words send a shiver through you, and he must feel the effect they have on you, because his grip on your neck tightens ever so slightly. "And you're breathing pretty hard," he points out, his gaze locked onto yours. He presses his body against yours, his other hand gripping the armrest of the chair, effectively trapping you in his embrace.

His face is just inches from yours, his eyes a deep, dark pool of hunger. "You're usually so feisty, so strong," he murmurs, his voice a rough whisper. "But right now, you're at my mercy, all flustered and trembling." His hand at your throat moves up to cup your chin again, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. "I could do anything I want with you like this, darling."

You stopped yourself from slapping again and smiled at him placing your hands on his shoulders moving them sensually. "And do you mind this?" you whisper seductively. His expression darkens with raw lust, and he grips your thigh with his free hand. "No, I don't mind this at all." His voice is low and dangerous, his gaze still locked on yours.

His body is pressed against you, his touch possessive and demanding. "In fact," he continues, pulling your leg up against him, "I like seeing you like this. All hot and bothered, trembling at my touch."

You caress his neck to distract yourself from laughing at his statement. Steve owed you a big favor, you thought. He lets out a low, rumbling sound at your touch, clearly enjoying the sensation. "That feels nice," he murmured, his eyes half-lidded.

He presses you even closer, his body molding against yours. "You know," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear, "I think I could get addicted to this." Brock slowly runs his fingers over your bare thigh, his touch light and teasing.

"Your skin feels so soft," he continues, his voice growing huskier. "So smooth and inviting." His hand inches higher, moving under your skirt, and his hips grind against yours. "I've been wanting to touch you for so long," he admits, his hand gripping your waist. "Feeling you shiver under my touch, seeing you all flushed and panting."

His lips find their way to your neck, his tongue flicking out to taste your pulse point. "You have no idea what you do to me," he whispers, his teeth grazing your skin. "No idea how badly I want to claim you." His hand beneath your skirt moves even higher, his touch burning through you. "I want to mark you, taste you, make you mine."

Close your eyes try to calm your heartbeat with little results. You hated to admit it but his words were turning you on. He chuckles, noticing your reaction. "Can't keep your cool, can you?" he teases, his hand now dangerously close to your center.

"You can't hide it, darling," he murmurs against your skin. "I can feel it, the way your heart is racing, the way you're reacting to my touch." He moves his lips to your ear, his voice a low rumble. "You like this, don't you? The feel of my hands on your body, the sound of my voice. You like being at my mercy." "But you won't give in," he continues, shifting so that his body is now fully flushed against yours. "You won't give me the satisfaction of admitting it, will you?" He nips at your earlobe, his teeth grazing your skin.

"But I know you want me." He whispers, his hand continuing its slow exploration. "You can try to deny it all you want, but I know you're just begging for it right now." He moves his lips down your neck, nipping and biting at your skin, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. "You're so stubborn, darling," he says, his voice a rough purr. "So determined to resist."

Brock shifts his body, positioning himself between your legs. "But it won't be long now. You're trembling, panting, and I can feel the heat coming off of you." He grips your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh, and he presses his body against yours, leaving no room for escape. "Just let go, darling," he whispers, his voice a low, sensual command. "Let me take you over the edge. Give yourself to me."

You gasp softly looking at him. His gaze captures yours, dark and possessive, and he smiles a slow, knowing smile. "There it is," he murmurs. "That gasp. That look in your eyes. That's what I wanted to see." He leans in, his face mere inches from yours. "Admit it, darling. You want me just as badly as I want you." He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle and almost tender. "You can fight it all you want," he continues, his voice a low rumble. "But at the end of the day, you're mine."

His hips grind against yours, his arousal pressing against you. "And I'm going to make you mine, darling. I'm going to make you beg for it." He's practically pinning you to the chair, his body pressed against yours, his hands everywhere. "I'm going to show you pleasure you've never even imagined before," he promises, his voice rough and sensual. "I'm going to make you scream my name, darling."

“Brock” you try to stop him but your tone wasn’t very confident, your mind was foggy. He growls, the sound low and possessive. "Say it again," he demands, his body pressing even harder against you. "Say my name again, darling."

You shiver at his command, your body responding to his touch in ways you can't control. "Brock," you repeat, your voice a hoarse whisper. He grins, clearly pleased with your response. "That's right," he says, his lips on your neck again. "I want to hear you say it, darling. I want to hear you begging for me."

He begins to kiss and nibble at your neck, leaving hot, wet trails on your skin. "No more fighting, no more resisting," he murmurs, his words sending a shiver down your spine. "Just give in, darling. Give in to me." You give in, moaning softly as you cling to him.

He growls again, the sound even more primal and possessive than before. "That's it, darling," he says, his hands roaming your body. "I want to hear those beautiful sounds coming from your lips." Brock lifts you up effortlessly, carrying you over to the nearby couch and laying you down on it, his body covering yours. "You're mine now," he whispers, gazing down at you hungrily. "All mine."

[lvrgirl-inc]

Breakfast

&

୨�� Head ୨ৎ

pair. Gamer Husband!Satoru x m!reader

wc. 2.6k

genres. House husband, comfort(?), eating “motivation”, edging, whiny reader + Toru, “thank you for the meal” backshots, domestic, soft—mostly, finale. [I suggest a slight content warning given the eating discussion, though it’s not dark, I did want to give the disclaimer..!]

Gamer Husband!Satoru mlist

𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵

Gamer Husband!Satoru who’s missed breakfast more times than you can count. Constantly with the, “I’ll make some cereal later”, “It’s not that late yet—in a bit, babe.” that would earn a lecture of varying lengths from you each time.

Gamer Husband!Satoru who you’d actually had to sit down and talk to about this bad habit of skipping meals. Hand over his in a sit-down at the dinner table after you’d gotten home from work late one evening. 

Gamer Husband!Satoru who was simply over the moon for your return—treating every “Honey, I’m home” as if you’d just come back from war. Only to find out that he was, in fact, not getting that oh-so syrupy love talk that you shower him….but another lecture on his worrying eating habits.

Gamer Husband!Satoru who—if he had ears and tail—almost looked like a kicked puppy when you’d expressed your concerns. A gentle, “I know you tend to…forget. But, my love, the gas station is not a valuable source of nutrients.” Damn. Following that, he might as well have whined

Gamer Husband!Satoru who just might’ve if it weren’t for the security of your fingers giving his hand a gentle squeeze. The look of endearment he gave you wasn’t even voluntary but instinctual for whenever he caught you sticking up for him—even if it was often against his own uprooting of his complete success.

Gamer Husband!Satoru who looks at you through those snowy lashes, batting them twice, thrice in your direction before officially meeting your firm gaze. He knows you’re serious about this and that only spurs on a stronger protrusion of his bottom lip. A mumbled, “You..usually do all the cooking. I don’t really…like eating without you,” and you knew it was true. “Makes the food taste bland, every chew seems to take forever and on because all I can think about is…how you’re not there.”

Gamer Husband!Satoru who you think might have heard the way your heart skipped a beat at those honest words. Sure, you two were only talking about eating properly and not stocking up on too many empty calories, but with how he phrased it—the tender on his slight lilt as he peered in a bit closer to you—it felt like..everything.

Gamer Husband!Satoru who took his hand up from both of yours, brushing back the tresses to settle behind your ear, letting his fingers linger there before sliding them along the crest of your jaw. A dreamy breath resting on his lips as he tried his best not to just stare at you for God knows how long. It was something he did often—just observing you in complete silence. Oh, you’re inquiring the reason? 

Because your presence was loud enough to him.

Gamer Husband!Satoru who has you flush-faced and swallowing down nervously amid a reluctant, faint smile. “.. ‘Toru…you’re not focused…” you rationalized, even as your eyes were unable to keep off his. 

Gamer Husband!Satoru who gives you the doofiest quirk of his mouth corner, smiling at the obvious effect he was already having on you. “Me? Not focused? Come onnn, that doesn’t even sound like me…” he’d purr, leaning in to steal a kiss, only for his lips to make contact with the palm of your hand instead. Did he really think he was getting off that easy?

Gamer Husband!Satoru who you’d had to eventually have another, deeper conversation about the matter—or went over negations more like—winding up with the following arrangement: If he could manage to fill in the rest of the meals for himself, you’d make a point to share at least one with him.

Gamer Husband!Satoru whose idea of compromise concluded with a morning that you’d never soon forget—nor really wanted to. Sunlight dashing the bed as you lazily and groggily woke up beside your husband for once, having convinced him to sleep in with you since he typically ran off..what? Four hours? Yeah. 

  Gamer Husband!Satoru whose fluffy platinum white ruffles were always fun to scan your fingers through in such peaceful scenery. Eventually, you got up, letting your deep sleeping beauty catch an hour or two. 

Gamer Husband!Satoru who didn’t stir even as you climbed out of bed, stretching your limbs and yawning quietly before rubbing tired eyes on the way to the bathroom. From there, doing the basic cleaning routine, you made your way to the kitchen. It wouldn’t be too bad to have your first day of the deal be breakfast. 

Gamer Husband!Satoru who you eventually decided would benefit from it anyhow and then went on to unpack varying ingredients out of the fridge to prep a perfect meal to start off the day. 

Gamer Husband!Satoru who always goes for sweets. Call it fast metabolism, workout routine or what—that man could eat. So, you, as his all-knowing spouse went ahead to make him a guilty pleasure of puffy pancakes, sidelined by a tropical fruit assortment, diced nicely. Humming sleepily and waking up as you went, you prepared that, along with a small smoothie from whatever didn’t make it into the mix.

Gamer Husband!Satoru who you, after a while, assumed would be up since it’d been a tad since you started the cooking process. Easily assembling the plate that you two were inevitably going to share and deftly cleaning up behind yourself as quietly as possible just to be sure that you wouldn’t wake him if he was still asleep.

Gamer Husband!Satoru who actually had just been joining consciousness when you walked in, feeling around the empty space beside him before seeing your face and caught the aroma wafting off the tray. “You..spoil me too much..” a half-awake Satoru mumbled in that slight snag that came with his morning voice.

Gamer Husband!Satoru who definitely didn’t expect this when you’d replied to that with, “Let me spoil you some more, then.” This, referring to being leaned up on the headboard, shakily holding his fork up to his mouth, sliding the plump, syrup-coated batter off the metal with his teeth. All the while with you just underneath the sheets with a mouth stuffed full of him.

Gamer Husband!Satoru who can feel how your lips stretch around his shaft, working hard to keep up the pace that was making that delicious, wet, slurping along his throbbing shaft. Making breathy moans fall from his lips in between his chewing. “F-fuck, babe..~”

Gamer Husband!Satoru whose shirt you pushed your fingers under, splaying them out across the smooth expanse. You could feel how his stomach was fluttering in time with how he throbbed on your tongue. Mumbled carefully, pulling your hair back a bit to look up at him—cheeks still stuffed full of him in the most erotic sight he’d ever seen, “Don’t talk with your mouth full, ‘Toru..~”

Gamer Husband!Satoru who can’t do anything but whine at your muffled gibe, mostly because your moans and voice created such sweet vibrations around his already-dripping cockhead from the back of your throat. He knows you were quite literally being a hypocrite, seeing as. Not a complaint fell though. All he could do is grip the sheets that lay beside him, trying his best to stay focused on the delectable meal and not the delicious feeling of your tongue becoming reacquainted with the powerful throb that now distracted him as he picked at his food some more. Eating was clearly the last thing on his mind.

Gamer Husband!Satoru who gets a bit too close, a bit too fast. Easily leaving you to pull off with a wet pop! When you felt the telltale way his balls started to draw up close to his body, how the stream of pre had only gotten more coarse when you started to deepthroat him properly. Poor thing, he was just simply shivering from your ministrations, obviously pouting strongly when the sensation had been lost just as he was inching his way closer to an orgasm. Only for you to take his cock up into your hand, giving it lazy strokes that were a glide, thanks to the efforts of your trachea. It was so nasty. So loud. Sticky shluck, shluck, over and over as the ring you’d created with your index and thumb ran from his tip to base in that agonizingly slow pace. “Ah, ahh. Come on, ‘Toruuu..y’know you’ve gotta finish your food before you can try to get any type of reward.”

Gamer Husband!Satoru who noted your emphasis on ‘any’ from a mile away. It was a double-edged sword, referring to the actual dessert that you’d had made and well…being able to cum. But oh when he rushed to finish, swallow down the last bite and lick the plate clean—that, he held your eye contact for—all while your fingers kneaded his swollen sac in one hand and the other was still pumping in earnest as you watched him. Though, maybe you should’ve been working more on getting him to calm down from his previous denial because boy did the payback hit different when he finally set the dish down on the sheets and proudly announced, “Alll donee.”

Gamer Husband!Satoru who decided to thank you for the meal in one of the best ways he knew how—gifting you with a niiice arch in your spine, pillow prince treatment and the good length of his dick sunk into your tight heat as you needlessly poured out his name over and over. Oh my, if you had predicted he’d treat it this way, you probably would have just microwaved a corndog or something. Though, you had much bigger ‘n better things on your mind right now. 

Gamer Husband!Satoru who felt like he got bigger every time you fucked him. He didn’t but damn. With your own recoil and how you were being fucked stupid just from him leaning back a bit and pulling you back to meet his hips each time. Slick of lube dripping and making a spread between the fronts of his meaty thighs and the backs of yours, you didn’t even know what to do with yourself. And especially not when he was leaning down to press his sweaty chest against the similarity of your back.

Gamer Husband!Satoru who changed up his thrusts for a bit, driving you wild as a hand came up from your navel, past your chest and up to your throat—not choking, no, just holding you there and lifting your face up out of the silk pillowcases. Moaning into your ear, rutting into you with a deeeep grind against your prostate that had you gritting your teeth and shuddering whenever he hit it just right. 

Gamer Husband!Satoru who’s never been afraid to show his gratitude nor his submissive side. Borderline fighting for his breath as his cock took its sweet time mapping out your ridged insides in a way that had you breathless, scratching down at sheets with broken pitches. He was just so grateful for you. For making him food, for motivating him to eat properly, for taking him sooo well. Oh, he just simply adored you. 

Gamer Husband!Satoru who hasn’t shied away from talking you through it, licking a stripe up the column of your neck as he continued that sensual grind that had you seeing stars in no time. “Haah, thas’ it..uhuuuh..f-fuck, mhn..” groaned out between his thrusts in an effort to encourage you the best that he could. “My sweet fuckin’ hubby, makin’ me such..mmf- goood food to wake up, lettin’ me fuck this even sweeter ass..fuck…” the last lament before he was speeding up his pace again.

Gamer Husband!Satoru whose balls slapped up against your taint at a quicker pace as he worked you both toward climax. “T-there you go, yeahhh, yeahh, that’s the spot? Mhm? Oh, I knoww, baby..” he’d coo along, feeling how you tightened up noticeably around his cock when the crown of it swiveled its way right into your sweet spot repetitively, seemingly aiming for it. 

Gamer Husband!Satoru who most likely doesn’t even know the effect that he has on you, how he made your knees buckle and your jaw go slack, teetering on the edge of a shaking orgasm as you let out little “Right there”s and “I’m so close, so close”s. That was all the motivation that he really needed, that he’d ever really need from you to do anything. But right now, he took it as a sign to use his free hand to wrap around your underside, stroking your neglected, weeping cock in time with his thrusts that were becoming erratic and uncoordinated as his own release fast-approached.

Gamer Husband!Satoru who always likes finishing inside and who knows you love it just as much as him. Something about marking you up from the inside out that got him going real bad. So he made no effort to try and pull out, driving it home as he was ravaging your narrow channel with wild abandon, pounding you straight into the mattress and into climax. “.. ‘Toruuu, fuckin’ guh-! Cumming, ‘m fuckin’...mhn..!” weakly mewled out as your body finally tensed up, a few full-body quakes before you were finally spilling your load out over the sheets without a care in the world for the mess that you would have to clean up afterward.

Gamer Husband!Satoru who took the feeling of your cum spurting from your swollen tip as a sign that he could follow suit, going as far as to push you from a doggy position and down into a full prone bone. Completely seating himself in your boycunt as he let himself reach that pinnacle of pleasure inside.

Gamer Husband!Satoru who ground his pelvis down into you, furthering the intensity of your own ongoing climax as your fingers got a claw on the sheets beside your head. There would’ve been cartoonish swirls in your eyes had this not been your reality, so instead, they fell at a cross before rolling up and to a close.

Gamer Husband!Satoru who’s just so generously dumping ounce after ounce of his foamy strands into you, hips stuttering as he leaned his head back, letting the relief fully wash over him.

Gamer Husband!Satoru who got to listen to your needy whining come up as breathless and airy successions that gradually calmed down. Then came his least and most favorite part about your coupling—pulling out. Softened cock sliding inch by inch out of your sore hole before finally breaking away, dragging a connecting string of cum along with.

Gamer Husband!Satoru who’s just marveling at you, to which you pipe up. “Are we gonna..haah…do this every time..?” somewhere between a genuine question and a rhetorical at the same time.

Gamer Husband!Satoru who cocked his head off to the side, casting you an impish grin as he came to lay down next to you. Leaning in to kiss up on your neck, shoulders, all the way down your arm and stopping at your hand. More specifically, your ring. Placing rows of the tender contacts to the precious stone that adorned your finger.

Gamer Husband!Satoru who finally gives up an answer, “If anything, this arrangement would be sooo much better if we ate afterward. How do you feel about me cooking dinner tomorrow night?” a hopeful smile accompanying the innuendo that was too tempting to let up.

Gamer Husband!Satoru who winds up laughing in a small victory upon your murmured agreement, tugging you into his arms and peppering your face with even more kisses.

A little sweet tooth pampering got you far. Having a husband who would die for you twice over doesn’t hurt, either. At least you know he won’t be skipping any meals after this…

𓏵𓏵𓏵𓏵

A/N: Hiya, this has been pretty fun to debut with, lol. Satoru is a personal favorite, obvi but I’m so dearly excited for the next after a hiatus. Head over to this guy @lvrboy-inc , heard he’s crawling out from the ground to deliver some more fetching works while I take to B.T.S. ‘Till next time~

[blxxmingrose]

hearing june talk about their future children filled hans’ heart with so much warmth, so much love that he didn’t know how to contain within his ribs. it felt like the kind of love that overflowed, that went to every little thing they touched together, this garden, this house, each other. 

he looked on fondly at june, at how he was taking all of this in too, and the teasing made hans chuckle. “they will not be annoyed by it,” he said with a slight pout, his eyes still filled with the quiet affection that he only reserved for june. “we’ll raise them to love flowers, it would be impossible for them to hate any of it.” 

in hans’ mind, it was all so very clear—their wedding day, having their first child, having more children to fill their home with laughter—and it filled him with the assurance that everything was in its rightful place. that everything would work out to give them the future they wanted.

not because they were blessed by some supernatural being, but because they were both willing to work hard for it. a faint “i love you” left his lips as june’s thumbs brushed over the back of his hand, that feeling of safety in this shared moment cloaking him from the sun, from the heat—making the moment just perfect. 

his lips sought june’s for another kiss, a kiss that wasn’t just for them in the present, but also for their future. a promise to their children to always love each other and to be examples of love that can last forever. “and while they are little, we will keep their hearts safe too. we will love them enough for them to never question anything,” he promised, his eyes shedding tears as he thought of things past and future. “they will never, ever, have to wonder if they have our support. they always will.” 

hans knew he could not turn back time, but all he could do was to make sure they learned from what they had experienced. “they will still be our little princes and princesses, but they will be free to pursue their hopes and dreams. and we will be there to guide them. because that is love too.” he leaned in for another kiss, june’s words wrapping him up in a comforting blanket and keeping him steady. even with his cheeks stained with tears, he couldn’t help but laugh. “oh i can’t wait to marry you, my love. i can’t wait for the day.” 

june exhaled a quiet laugh, hans’s hands in his anchoring him in a way he didn’t think he’d ever get used to because it still felt like something precious, something he never wanted to take for granted. he shook his head slightly, a small smile curving his lips as he took in hans’s words, the way his husband spoke of their love like it was something he could hold, something they built together and nurtured like the flowers they grew together.

“i think our children are going to be annoyed at all youd plant analogies,” june mused, his voice dipping into something teasing. “they’ll pretend they’re tired of hearing them, but deep down, they’ll understand exactly what we mean.” his smile softened, something more thoughtful settling in his expression.

his thumbs brushed absently over the back of hans’s hands, the warmth between them grounding him. it was easy to feel safe like this, to know without question that he was loved. hans had made love something steady, something that existed not just in grand gestures but in the quiet moments too — in the way he remembered the smallest details, in the way their home had become a place june never wanted to leave.

his fingers curled more tightly around hans’s, as if holding onto something sacred. “so yes, we’ll write our story. we’ll fill it with every small thing, every quiet moment, every feeling we’ve carried between us since the beginning. and maybe one day, when our children read it, they’ll see that love is about finding someone who makes your heart feel safe.” his lips quirked slightly, repeating his own words from earlier with a quiet sort of affection. “and if nothing else, they’ll learn that their parents were absolutely obsessed with flowers.”

he let out another soft laugh, shaking his head before tilting his chin up to meet hans’s gaze again, something steady in his expression. “and or our wedding… well, you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?” there was a glint of mischief in his eyes now, something playful, something that hinted at the depth of his love in a different way. his voice dipped lower as he leaned in, their foreheads brushing. “just know that i plan on making it something worth writing about.” and with that, he kissed him again.

[uniquethingtastemaker]

As everyone knows, I bounce between fics based on my creative inspiration and rn I’m writing a Rook x Reader fanfic.

Now, this one is interesting. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this concept before…

The closest thing I’ve read is probably @solxamber’s Ruler of My Heart. It’s one of my favorite Rook x Reader fanfic of all time. She peels back the layers to Rook’s character, portraying something more honest and vulnerable. It’s fantastic. If you haven’t read it, do it now.

I read that fanfic and thought I could never even touch that level of artistry. However, I feel like I’ve come up with a solid base for something good.

I haven’t seen a lot of full fanfics where Rook feels threatened. I’ve seen some drabbles where he’s felt scared and is able to deal with the threat swiftly. However, those tend to be about MC being threatened. Even in the canon story, Rook is more concerned with the safety of others rather than himself. It makes sense considering his fantastic skills.

Therefore, the man tends to be unflappable. Even if he does feel unnerved, he covers it up expertly. He can manually adjust his heart rate and breathing. However, some people can see past the facade, like Trey. Look at the Halloween event for instance.

Rook has a weakness though. He’s a private person. He doesn’t like people knowing about his past too much. Other than what he portrays to the world, which is his more of his upbeat and over the top self, he doesn’t want people to know about him. That’s his weakness.

My fanfic idea is an observant reader. Someone that makes Rook feel uncomfortable and borderline threatened because they just guessed almost everything about him upon their first meeting. That is objectively terrifying. There’s someone who matches his level of observation. Unlike Trey, who’s low key about it, MC doesn’t know that, especially at first. They almost give away too much information. Rook deals with the situation but they both know what he’s done to intervene.

So, I plan to have the main inner conflict be Rook hesitating to trust the Reader. The external conflict will obviously be Vil. Once again, I have a strange obsession with Chapter 5. I think it’s because it’s the perfect set up. There’s so many different possible conflicts and resolutions. I also don’t have to think much in terms of coming up with my own situation and set up. It’s built in there. Work smarter not harder lol

Anyway, that’s my idea for now. Let me know your thoughts. Always love interacting with people about my works and ideas

I also have thoughts regarding Rook general behavior that might be interesting. However, I’m tired, so that’ll probably be a separate post. Let me know if you’re interested.

Tagging @es-sharezone because u love Rook lol

[channiesbakery]

jealous? —

prompt / request — dumbification with dino

pairing — reader + ex fwb!dino

word count — 1330

genre — smut [dumbification, use of slut, fingering, semi public sex, p in v]

it was supposed to be an easy, simple, no strings attached arrangement. neither you or chan had time for a relationship, nor did you want one.

or at least, that’s what you told yourself. and the no strings arrangement worked out for a couple months. but then the two of you started spending time outside of just in bed.

you knew chan’s reputation when you first started the arrangement. he wasn’t a relationship guy, and at the time, neither were you.

the minute you realized you had started falling for chan, you ended your friends with benefits relationship, giving him a bullshit excuse.

you manage to keep space between the two of you, rarely ever seeing each other despite chan always texting you, asking to meet up.

of course, you wanted to respond to him, to head over to his apartment for one last time. but you knew that if you gave in, it wouldn’t just be one more time and you’d only fall for him harder, risking breaking your own heart.

you do a good job of distracting yourself from chan and keeping your distance. until your mutual friend, seungkwan’s, birthday comes up and you’re both invited.

you manage to avoid him for most of the night, following your friend’s around seungkwan’s place. at one point, you end up talking to yeonjun, who leads you to the makeshift bar in kitchen for a drink.

chan had been looking around the party for you and he finally spots you, wearing his favorite dress of yours while chatting with yeonjun.

“hey man!” yeonjun starts to greet chan when he walks over but chan doesn’t respond to him. “i need to talk to you,” he says to you, not giving you a chance to respond as he grabs your wrist, pulling you away.

“what the hell is your problem?” you scoff as he drags you out onto the balcony. “mine? you’re the one who ended things for no reason then practically ghosted me!” chan snaps.

“I’ve been busy,” you say simply. “didn’t look too busy when you were with yeonjun,” he scowls. “what? you jealous?” you raise an eyebrow. “i thought lee chan doesn’t get jealous,” you point out.

“when it comes to you? i do,” he says, pushing you back up against the wall. his body is close to yours, not quite pressing against you just yet.

“c’mon sweets, what happened? we had a good thing going on. been missing you these past few weeks,” he purrs in your ear.

“I’m sure you could’ve found another girl to keep you company,” you shrug. “they aren’t you,” he mumbles, his lips pressing against your neck.

“why not? i can tell you still want me. the way your breath hitches, your cute little gasps, the fact that you wore this dress,” chan mumbles, his fingertips dipping under the hem of your short dress, dragging up your inner thigh.

“please, i didn’t wear it for you,” you scoff, trying to sound convincing but you knew deep down, maybe you did wear it for him.

“you wore it for yeonjun then?” chan scoffs, pulling back from your neck to look at you. “maybe i did,” you shrug.

“well if you were trying to get me jealous, it worked.” he says, fulling pressing his body against you.

“please, not everything’s about you,” you scoff but chan’s confidence never wavers. “you’re telling me you haven’t thought of me in the past weeks?” he asks, his hand moving further up your thigh as you instinctively part your legs for him.

“cause I’ve been thinking about you. you’ve been on my mind nearly every day sweets,” he says, chuckling when you grab his wrist, pushing it up higher.

“shut up and stop teasing,” you glare at him. “so bossy,” chan chuckles but brushes your clothed pussy lightly before moving your panties to the side.

“gonna let me touch you out here? where anyone can walk out and see? tsk tsk, such a slut hm?” he teases, barely pushing his fingertip inside you.

you whine in response, trying to grind down against his hand. “so needy already? only been a few weeks without my cock and the you’re this needy?” he teases.

he suddenly pushes two fingers in, making you gasp, leaning forward against his chest as you grip his shoulder for stability.

“can feel you squeezing my fingers already, are you that needy? I’ve barely touched you and you’re about to make a mess of my fingers,” he taunts as you bury your face in his neck.

“my pretty slut making a mess for me, hm?” he continues, grinding his palm against your clit. your moans are muffled against his neck as his fingers slow their movements while you ride out your high.

you feel them slipping out of you before his other hand grips your hair, pulling your head back slightly. his fingers tap your bottom lip and you immediately suck on them, your eyes meeting his as you do.

“good girl,” he purrs, pushing his fingers deeper just to make you choke slightly.

he pulls his fingers out of your mouth, quickly replacing them with his own lips. chan kisses desperately, he might’ve teased you for being needy but deep down, he was probably more desperate than you were.

everything that happens next is a blur. one minute you’re desperately making out on the balcony, the next, you’re face down in someone’s bed as chan pounds into you.

“feels good doesn’t it?” he whispers in your ear, his soft voice a huge contrast to the way his cock pounded into you.

“y-yeah- good-“ you manage to choke out. “yeah? my cock feels good? so good you can’t think of anything else hm?” he continues, sitting up straighter to grip your hips as he thrusts into you even harder.

you can only moan out in response, your brain feeling too fuzzy to come up with words. “that’s okay, sweets. just let me make you feel good. no need to think right now. I’ve got you,” he coos.

your eyes roll back as he pulls your body up so your back presses against his chest as his cock buried deeper inside you. “so pretty like this, sweets. no thoughts in that pretty brain of yours except my cock hm?” he mumbled in your ear.

“just my pretty, dumb baby,” he continues. “y-yours-“ you mumble, not realizing what you’ve said. “that’s right. mine. you’re mine,” he practically growled in your ear.

“fucking love when you’re like this. missed making you feel so good, fucking you dumb, there’s no thoughts left in that pretty head,” he continues, releasing his hold on you so you collapse back down against the mattress.

you cum around his cock but he doesn’t slow down, instead he fucks you even harder. your moans are muffled by the sheets, his fingers digging into your hips and you know you’re going to wake up with bruises.

his cum floods your cunt and he thrusts into you a few more times after releasing before he completely pulls away from you.

“did so good pretty baby,” he leans over, kissing your temple as you lay there, completely spent and limp, while he looked for something to clean you up with.

“this is the last time,” you mumble as he wiped you clean. chan just chuckles at that and you sit up slightly, raising an eyebrow at him.

“we’re not done,” he shakes his head. “yes we are,” you argue. “did i fuck you too dumb that you haven’t noticed?” chan raises an eyebrow.

“notice what? that you’re still just annoying now as you were three weeks ago?” you scoff. “no, you idiot. that i’ve fallen for you,” he says and when you look in his eyes, you can see that he’s completely serious.

“oh.” you say simply.

“yeah, oh. so when you’re done being a stubborn brat and telling me we’re done, I’m taking you out. on a real date.”

[suprababka]

OMG I'm completely in love with your writing is just so good, I already binge read all of posts, i really want to know your headcannons about cuddling stuff with the opm characters?

Hellooo!👋 Thank you, I'm really happy to hear that you enjoy what I do🥰 And thank you for the request! Of course I'll do it ;D And sorry for taking so long! As you could see, my first post with hcs was published on the 25th of December (2024)💀 But I'm planning to try to post headcanons more regularly😉 (this ask was sent on the 19th of June, chat😅) If something is not right, please let me know, and I'll fix it. Have fun!💕

Cuddling & hugs with them

A/N: fun fact: my name is Nicole (shortly, Nika)🙋‍♀️

Thanks for all the likes, comments, reblogs and following me! I really appreciate your feedback and support, guys!🥰🫶

You can check my masterlist too see more of my other works.

Prepare for possible OOC!

(Sorry if there are any mistakes!)

And, most importantly, enjoy!!!

It'd be rather awkward to hug him at first

Just imagine: you open your arms to hug him only to see his classic poker face

Double kill if he asks you what are you trying to do💀

Though he doesn't protest when you tell him that you want to give him a hug and proceed to do it

He just stands with his hands in pockets

Saitama feels like he did something wrong when you let go of him, trying to hide your disappointment and embarrassment

It's not that he doesn't know what hugs are

He just doesn't understand the idea of them

At first

You keep giving him hugs there and there, and he gets used to them

For some reason, it brings him a sense of comfort and reasurance that you're here

(so yeah, he starts to actually miss your hugs when you're not around)

Some time later, he responds to your embraces

Well, he just puts his hand on the side of your waist

(or sometimes even playfully swat your butt)

He doesn't want to wrap his arms around you and squeeze you, as he's afraid he'll overdo it and hurt you

Oh, and yes, he won't initiate hugs

Though you can expect his hand to be on your waist when you're walking together

But sadly, that's all

Cuddles is a whole new level for Saitama to complete

He likes his personal space: to sit or lay in his favourite pose, to scratch his rear, pick his nose, etc.

But he can't do that while cuddling with you

That's what he thought

But in reality, it's not so bad

You find a position that you're both comfortable with: he lays behind you on his side, supporting his head with his hand or sometimes even placing it on top of yours

He can watch the TV, feel your smell and warmth, scratch his butt, lay like he wants and do other things

A real bliss🤌✨

As for you, you love being the little spoon as well

To feel Saitama's warmth, his hot breath against your neck, occasional kisses on top of your head and sometimes even his strong arm draped over you as your personal shield from everything

The same goes to when you're cuddling in bed, reading manga together, brushing your teeth, taking the bath...

And yes, you're not going to be the big spoon, sorry

Saitama is just not a touchy partner

But hey, he has other ways to make you feel loved ;)

Another man who is unfamiliar with hugs

But it's different with Genos

He wants to be the best boyfriend for you

And he knows that hugs and cuddles are important aspects in relationships as they provide love and support for your significant other

Hence, the S-class hero spends a lot of time watching other couples, reading different articles on the Internet (even watching videos) and, of course, asking your opinion on what you're comfortable with

You tell him that hugs and cuddles shouldn't be forced, it all comes from heart

As you bump on his chest (where presumably his mechanic heart is), he raises his eyebrow a little

After he processes the information, he claims that he understands you

He doesn't really

After that, he takes some time to observe you and to analyze when and how he should hug you

For example, when you both greet each other, he'll place his hand on your waist and kiss your cheek

When you're walking together, he'll place his palm on the lower of your back

When you're feeling sad, he'll embrace you and hold you in his arms until you start feeling better

When you're both sitting on the couch, he'll wrap his arm around your shoulder

Well, you get the drill

Genos also asks Dr. Kuseno to make his arms and abs a bit softer for you..?

(somehow)

He just wants you to feel comfortable in his arms, like you're hugging a person, not a robot

But you reassure him that you see him as a human

It means to him more than you think

Some time later, you notice that your boyfriend's approach to hugging you changed

As if he started putting more soul into it

Don't get me wrong, his hugs didn't lack of affection

They just were kinda... automatic? Like, a trigger happened and then Genos would embrace you as if following a programmed scenario

But fortunately, Genos figures it out (not without your help)

Moving on, you're in full control when it comes to cuddles

Wanna be a small or big spoon? No complaints from Genos

He doesn't really have preferences

Your comfort is all that matters to him

He'll warm you up or, vice versa, cool you down with his body if needed

If you had a hard day, he'd listen to you while giving you a massage

He'll also give you sudden kisses on your cheek, forehead, hair, neck, etc.

(oh, and he'll admire your beauty while you're not looking)

All in all, Genos is a perfect partner for cuddles and hugs

He just needs some time to figure it all out <3

He's low-key touch starved and scared to do anything first

What if you're uncomfortable hugging him? Or you're not a fan of physical touch? Or..?

He's always happy to be with you and even allows himself to be a bit childish

And his inner child wants to give you a big hug!

On one of your dates, he greets you and subconsiously opens his arms to put you into his embrace

Only to stop in mid-way

What was he thinking? Were you really eager to hug him as well?

You notice Sonic's awkward attempt to hug you and pretend to just stretch

You smile and wrap your arms around him, placing head on his chest

He's surprised, but hugs you back immediately

Sonic's grip tightens around you and his nose is burried in your hair, smelling your scent

Ah, if Sonic could, he'd hold you like this forever

Just like that, you signed your death warrant

Sonic becomes your personal coala and doesn't miss an opportunity to wrap his arm around you

(he doesn't mind if you want be coala as well though)

He'll playfully squeeze you, tickle you, pepper your head with kisses, breathe in your scent, caress your curves, warm you up, and just enjoy your presence, whispering sweet nothings

Please do tell if it gets overbearing for you

Sonic will hate it if you suffer in silence because of him

The same thing goes to cuddles, obviously

He likes being both big and small spoon

Big because he feels like your personal protector (and pillow)

Small because, again, he wants to be pampered like a child

It really makes him feel loved when he's lying on top of you and you run your fingers through his hair

In one sentence, Sonic freaking LOVES hugging you and cuddling with you💕

You'll be the first to initiate hugs

And not just hugs that you give someone when you're greeting them

But a supporting, more meaningful one

You and Garou are just spending time together in the park, talking about everything

Feeling emotional and comfortable, you lean closer to your boyfriend and wrap your arms around him, sighing pleasantly

It makes him stop in the middle of the sentence and just stare at you dumbfounded, not knowing how to react and what to do

Garou has never been hugged before

Usually, if not always, when he gets physical with someone, it happens in a fight

Now he feels... warm and safe

Yeah, it's definitely better than being punched

Garou hesitantly hugs you back, still trying to get used to the feeling

When you start pulling away, he doesn't let go of you, tightening his grip on you

"Wait... Don't move, let's stay like this... at least for a little while, please," he whispers

And of course you don't protest

(you wanted to stop hugging your boyfriend because you were afraid you went too far in the first place, but seeing his reaction, you relax)

After that, you start hugging each other to show appreciation, support and love for each other

Garou gets a habit to hug you from behind and burry his face into the crook of your neck as you both stand in silence

It can mean two things: he's tired or overwhelmed and needs you to calm or reassure him

Or he's just showing his gratitude and love for you, basking in your presence

Of course, the same goes to you

Your boyfriend will always be happy to hold you in his arms when you need him

But don't get me wrong, you hug each other not only in moments of comfort

For example, when you both greet each other, you wrap your hand around Garou's neck as he places his on your lower back

(and lightly slapping your butt with another)

He also sometimes wraps his arm around you to make sure that you're here with him

This goes to especially when you're in crowded places and he's afraid you might get lost or worse

When your boyfriend feels silly, he likes to lift you up, carry you in bridal style, place you on his shoulder, supporting your legs, and even swirl you around him

Well, you catch the drift

(usually, it happens to show you his strength and just have fun)

Oh, and how could I forget to mention that he definitely swings his arm over you when you're both sitting on the couch/bench/etc.

Or he's sitting behind you on top of the bench/step with his arms around you and his chin on top of your head

Garou also loves it when you're sitting on his lap!!!

He may seem as someone who is not a big fan of cuddles, but in reality, they bring him a sense of comfort as well

Garou is always the big spoon tho

When you're cuddling on the sofa, your back pressed against his chest and his arms are encircling you like a protective shield or are gently caressing your curves

Usually, you're discussing different topics or just enjoying each other's presence in silence

When you're in bed, you lay your head on Garou's chest as his arms are around you (again)

If you're lying on one of your sides, of course your boyfriend's arm is draped over you and his face is nuzzled against your hair/neck

Alright, I think I wrote enough about Garou (and no, it's not because he's one of my favs... I hope)🫡

The main point is that hugs and cuddles with Garou are full of love and comfort🥰

Ooooh, this man loves hugs and cuddles

I believe he'll try to hug you on your first date, opening his arms broadly

And pull you into the bear hug

(if you're comfortable with it, that is)

Metal Bat melts when he feels you squeeze him in return

After that, you both start a tradition of Badd scooping you in his arms when you meet each other

Sometimes you like to press your foreheads together and peck each other's lips

He likes to briefly hug you or wrap his arm around when he can

Standing in the queue? He puts his hands on your waist and places his chin in top of your head (if he's taller than you; if not, then nuzzles his face against your neck/back)

Walking down the street? A strong arm around your shoulder can be expected

Feeling joyous? Please hug him, and he'll whirl you

You're anxious because of the crowded place? Badd is here to let you hug his arm or, again, take you under his wing

You always feel loved and secure in his arms

And Metal Bat loves holding you in his arms, patting your head, leaving soft kisses there and there, admiring your beauty, whispering compliments or just saying how much he loves you

He also likes to show off his strength and carries you in his arms/lifts you up

+ gives you piggybackrides!

Badd is really warm, by the way

In addition, his hugs feels like home, like all the worries and problems disappear

And cuddles too!

They're one of his favourite ways of spending time with you

Feeling your head resting on his chest and his hands stroking your back is a true heaven for him

Or vice versa, when he's really worn out or stressed from his hero work, he lays on top of you, burrying his face in your chest and feeling your fingers running through his hair in a soothing way

This helps him to relax

Your presence in general always brings him peace

Just like his does the same to you

That's why you both don't really have a favourite pose for cuddles, as you're both craving for each other's warmth and touch

Well, alright, you and Badd totally love it when Tama joins you two

I don't know how to emphasise enough that hugs and cuddles with Metal Bat are the best

He is your personal Teddy Bear after all :3

(yes, I'm biased towards this man and I'm not sorry)

(I swear, Metal Bat's hugs/cuddles would solve 90% of my prolems)

(chat, is it normal that I had a few breakdowns because he's not real and, consequently, will never be my husband?)

(sorry, let's move on🔜)

I believe that Amai Mask is actually not a huggy person

Yeah, he can semihug his fans when they're taking pictures

And that's all

That was until you came into his life

You'll be first one to hug him

In return, he'll just pat your head

And that's how most of your hugs will go

You don't really mind because you still feel his love and comfort when he strokes your hair or spine

Ah, the way he gently puts his hand on the back of your head and brings it to his chest when you're sad🥹

Beaut loves it when you hug him from behind, nuzzling your face against his muscular back

Or when you wrap your arms around his neck and place your chin on top of his head when he's sitting in his director's chair/work armchair

Yeah, you read that right

This man loves to show you off

And work is no exception

He demonstratively places you on his lap, one hand is around your shoulders and another is caressing your thigh

Meanwhile, your arms are hugging his neck and your cheek is pressed against his temple

No one dares to even say a word towards you

And of course he loves to put his hand on your side as you both walk down the street or the red carpet of some Gala (i.e. in the public)

(kinda possessive if you ask me, but hey, I like moderately possessive men😏)

As I've mentioned before, Amai loves it when you straddle his lap

And when it's just the two of us as well

(especially when you're sitting on him with your arms around his neck as his hands support your lower back)

Beaut likes to pull you close to him when you're showering, taking bath and chilling in the jacuzzi together

He says that he's a serious man and doesn't need cuddles

Also him: doesn't let go of you when you're going to sleep

Really, he acts like a baby and whines if you leave the bed to use the toilet or to do some other stuff instead of snuggling against him

(it stays as a secret between you)

To sum up, Amai tends to wrap his arm around you to show the world that you're his and he's yours

And he will never admit that he craves for your presence, which brings him comfort at night

But you understand everything perfectly well😏

You can forget about hugs with Flashy Flash

Alright, almost forget

He lets you cling to him but doesn't wrap his arms around you or even put his hand on your side

Like I said, he's not fan of hugging and struggles with showing affection for you

Flashy doesn't want to hurt your feelings by pushing you away from him

That's why he prefers to just stand there like this🧍

Until you release him from your hug

S-class hero believes it's the best compromise

What he doesn't realise is that you start feeling like you're annoying your boyfriend

Or he doesn't even want to touch you...

This hurts

Soon Flash notices how corners of your lips curl downwards and your eyes seem to lose their light each time you hug him and pull away, not feeling any mutuality

After a while, you stop snuggling against him

For some reason, Flashy Flash doesn't like this at all

Gladly, you both talk it out

(you're quite surprised when your boyfriend brings up this issue in one of your conversations, as you thought he didn't care about that at all)

The next time you hug Flash, a muscular arm drops over your shoulder and caresses it in a soothing way

What amazes you more is that Flashy Flash even initiates semihugs

And who would know that the S-Class Rank 10 professional hero is clingy when it comes to cuddles?

No, of course he doesn't drop his serious façade and acts like he doesn't need this sort of affection

But the way he holds you tighter in bed and moves closer to you when you're both cuddling tells you otherwise

It'd be even funnier if he preferred being the small spoon

But, oh well, he likes to your protector

What else can I say?

Flashy Flashy may be not a professional hugger and cuddler, but he's not bad either😉

Zombieman actually likes hugging you

He'll be hesitant to pull you into his embrace because he'll be damned if he make you upset by doing something you're uncomfortable with

So he asks if he could hug you on one of your dates

And you happily let him do so

Later, Zombieman just opens his arms, silently inviting to his embrace, instead of asking

He also tends to do that as a way to greet you

Your boyfriend, being the gentleman he is, definitely puts his hand on your lower back or side when you're walking in public to make sure you don't get lost

And you, being the loving girlfriend you are, cling closer to him only to feel his grip gently tighten around you

Fun fact: even though he's a zombie and his body is cold, he can keep you warm in his embrace

And cool you down as well if it's hot for you

His hugs are always tender and delicate

And of course cuddles as well

He may come off as a serious professional hero who is not snuggly at all

But in reality, it's all otherwise

Zombieman adores late-night evenings when both of you lay in bed and talk about anything, spooning each other

(ah, the way he looks at you while you're babbling about your day🥹)

Really, these evenings are everything to him

He has his beloved woman by his side whom he can listen to forever, and all of his worries melt away

What can be better than that?

You don't know it, but when you fall asleep in your lover's arms, he stays awake for a while just to simply appreciate the moment and your sleeping form

He feels like the luckiest man on Earth

And he is ;)

Anyway, Zombieman loves holding you in his arms and feeling your presence

It makes him feel like human☺️

Another hug enjoyer!

Definitely will be nervous to pull you into his arms tho

So you'll have to make the first move

And after that, King clasps you into his embrace every chance he gets

But not in a clingy way

He sees hugs as a way to support you, show his love for you, and just... feel happy, you know?

His mood always brightens when he has you in his arms, your face burried in his neck and his head is resting on top of yours (or his hands pat you)

When you share some good news with your boyfriend, he opens his arms with a broad smile, like some kind of miracle happened

(he looks like a cute, enthusiastic boy <3)

And you get pulled into a bear hug

(if you don't like these types of hugs, he won't do that, of course)

What else you should know is that King gets super shy about wrapping his arms around you in crowded places

He feels awfully awkward to take action for some reason

(both of you know that it's due to his social anxeity)

But he'll be grateful if you take the lead and at least hug his arm

When it gets less crowded, he feels at ease and can hug your shoulders

At home, hugs with him immediately turn into cuddles

Come on, he is hikkan and otaku

Of course he'd love to bask in your love

To lay his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat with closed eyes, as you sigh contentedly and play with his fair

As you could have guessed, you're the big spoon most of time

However, when you're both playing videogames or reading manga, he likes to have you on his lap and place his chin on your shoulder

The same goes to when you're taking bath together

In other cases, I believe King will be the small spoon

What can I say? He's your baby boy😚

[froggiequarium]

1k words; rafayel making nail art... for you (working on this when i'm supposed to be working on a new fic for main oops.... raf invaded my mind what can i say?)

-

rafayel noticed your little habit of constantly switching out your press-on nails every couple of weeks. infact, you often began asking him his opinions on which to use next after catching his curious eyes glued to you as you prepped your nails for the newly decided set, and he'd confidently point out the one he thought would suit the season or occasion better.

one day, after showing him the new sets you'd bought during a sale and oogling at the cute art and charms they were decorated with, he offhandedly asked if they were difficult to make.

"hm? well, i've seen videos that make it easy, but usually things look easier than when you actually try it yourself, so i just stick to buying them," you sheepishly point out with a little laugh.

and suddenly, rafayel has an idea.

in the next week or so, when its around the time to switch out your nails once more, rafayel calls you and tells you to meet him at his studio, that he has a surprise waiting for you.

curious and excited, you immediately make your way there, having no other plans for the day, mentally going through special days to make sure you're not forgetting any occasion.

though, it wasn't likely, given rafayel's nature of spoiling you with surprise gifts for no particular reason.

you make your way inside of his studio and find him in the living area, just finishing arranging some things before his gaze flits up to yours.

"well hello, miss bodyguard. you got here quick."

you take slow steps towards him, grinning.

"a certain fishy said they had something for me, i couldn't just keep him waiting."

he grins back.

when you close the distance and are standing right before him, he holds his hands out, palms facing up.

"give me your hands," he coaxes.

you do as you're told, sliding your hands over his, and he grips them gently, inspecting your hands— you don't have a new set on yet, just as he expected.

perfect.

"why don't i do your nails for you this time?"

you tilt your head.

"is this your surprise?"

"part of it."

"are you sure? i didn't think you'd be interested, and i'm used to doing it myself...."

"nonsense, let me decorate your hands for you this time, cutie."

you raise an eyebrow, suspicious at his insistence, but allow yourself to be dragged to the couch and seated next to him as he reaches for the utensils that you use to prep your nails.

"why did you have everything ready? were you that confident i'd let you do my nails for me?"

he holds up the nail clippers, moving close to begin snipping down your nails.

"its already been a couple of weeks since your last set, so i knew you'd be working on another one sooner or later."

something about the attention to detail rafayel pays when it comes to you makes your heart thump a little faster in your chest.

"right..."

he's finished trimming and filing your nails quickly before he grabs a spikier tool to push your cuticles back, trimming some as he sees fit. afterward, he's grabbing another tool and begins gently buffing the surface of each nail. when he reaches for a small alcohol wipe to drag over each nail bed, you speak up again, realizing something.

"wait, what set are you even going to put on? did you decide without me?"

he cleans the last finger, setting the wipe down beside him before reaching for the nail glue to have ready.

"give me a second."

he reaches for a little box that was hidden in plain sight behind a cup of paintbrushes on the nearby table. its a pretty blue and wrapped in a little purple ribbon. he hands it to you, and you slowly take it from him.

"this is the real surprise," he smiles, gesturing for you to open it.

you look up at him before pulling at one of the ends of the ribbon, gently unraveling it and popping the lid off of the box. you can't help the little gasp that escapes you at the sight within.

it's a new set of nails, pristine and pretty, looking like the ones that are on the pricier end of the websites you buy from.

they're a mix of pearly white and ocean blue, different images from seashells and little fish to a seahorse being painted on a few of them, embellished with small colored-pearl looking charms and some shiny gold glitter for highlight. even more, the shape of them is exactly your preference.

you're looking at them for a long time in silence due to the awe of the detail and beauty of them. rafayel watches you marvel at them, but grows too eager to hear your thoughts.

"do you like them?"

rafayel's voice breaks you from your trance and you finally manage to tear your gaze away from the nails to meet his eyes.

"did you.... make these?"

rafayel only shrugs in response.

"i decided to try it out. it wasn't the easiest thing, but it was simple enough, and i got the hang of it easily. still, i think my back is still hurting from the weird angle i had to be at to paint on such a tiny canvas," he whines, rubbing his lower back for emphasis.

you breathe out a laugh, pushing yourself forward and kissing the pout off of his lips.

"these are the prettiest nails i've ever had, raf. thank you," you beam.

his ears are bright red.

"its not that big a deal," he looks to the side, shy. the volume of his voice is lower at his next words. "besides, there's more where that came from, so its nothing..."

you nod, making a note to ask to watch him at work later. for now, you hold the box out to him, gaze expectant.

"well, i'm ready for my new nails, mister nail artist~"

he's back to his normal self at your words, pleased expression crossing his face as he snatches the box from you before picking up the glue.

"leave it to me!"

needless to say, you received the most compliments on this set than you had from the other sets you wore, everyone hounding you for which new nail place you went to this time for such a beautifully effortless result.

you were all too satisfied to turn to each of them and proudly reveal the secret nail tech, the curious gazes immediately growing stunned.

"my boyfriend!"

-

you cant convince me he wouldn't be good at nail art.... inspired by the next press-on set im going to use looking cutely painted (not ocean themed though) & it made me think ab how rafayel would definitely make you your own sets.... nail tech raf anyone???

-

[headedstraightforfrankcastle]

Random Vi headcanons

Plot: none, just random thoughts about Vi as your pretty little girlfriend <3

Disclaimer: both SFW and NSFW, not revised (please tell me if there's any mistake so I can fix it), mention of food

A/N: besties, I didn't forget about the smut! It just coming together pretty slowly because I'm working on an exam and all my strenght goes there. But it's coming, so stay tuned 👀

-

SFW:

Vi who always has a little smirk on her face because of the scar in her upper lip - her mouth is costantly slightly ajar and it makes her look as is in an endless state of are, mostly when she's looking at you

Vi who holds your hand as if it were the last safe anchor in a sea full of monsters

Vi who tries to cook for you when you don't feel like doing it by yourself, but she insists you absolutely cannot skip even one single meal

Vi who clearly makes a mess, filling the sink with dirty pots and utensils, struggling to keep up with something harder that a grilled cheese, but who keeps trying and ends up cooking a not-so-bad-but-very-personal version of your favourite dishes

Vi who later gives you the biggest puppy eyes while watching you eat, waiting fo you to tell her if she did good (you end up telling her she did even if it's a lie, because the effort that woman puts in everything she does for you is worth eating even dirt if she put it in a soup for you)

Vi who actually likes cooking with you as you teach her tips and tricks, because the way you do it without being patronising makes her feel important

Vi who insists on watching horror movies with you thinking she's good at hiding the dread

"It's just a movie, babe, no need to get scared", but she's actually the one taking her gaze of the TV when scary stuff happens. It always ends up with her snuggling in your arms saying it is for your comfort (you both know it's a lie)

Vi who loves to absentmindedly play with your hair and who's head over heels when you dye a lock of her same pink

Vi who is so messy in basically everything she does except handling you

Vi who sings in the shower thinking you can't hear her, not knowing you're actually sitting outside the door listening to her

Vi who would teach you some self-defence and love seeing you becoming stronger everyday, but will still be your scary dog privilege

Vi whose first reason to teach you how to fight is to admire you in your workout gear because your body and the way it moves is art to her - but seeing you so powerful when you hit the punching bag and knowing you can do it to whoever tries to hurt you is second place on the list

Vi who always shares drinks with you, so she's sure not to exaggerate with the alcohol and gets to have a constant contact with you at the same time

Vi who doesn't mind getting into little fights because she knows that when she comes home you'll fuss over her like a madman; it always ends up with you doing your best to mend her wounds while sitting on her lap, and she loves it

Vi who can seem like the toughest, meanest, harshest person to the rest of the world - but who, you know, has the biggest heart who she only shows to those she loves, especially you

Vi who is the best of both worlds, both strong and vulnerable, and who melts when you call her your wonder

NSFW:

Vi who likes your marks a little too much: your bites on her thighs and neck, the hickeys you leave both in places where everyone can see then and in hidded spots only she knows about (these are her favourites), the stinging red lines and half-moons of your nails digging onto her skin... the memories of you on her alter her brain chemistry in a way she cannot even describe

Vi who's a massive switch, but who's always at your service, mostly when she's fucking you dumb, be it with her fingers, her tongue or her strap

Vi who was sceptical about taking the strap from you at first, but later realizes how much she loves being at your mercy

Vi who loves making love (she stopped "having sex" with you a long time ago) while listening to a playlist you made with her and your favourite songs, humming the little tunes while she kisses you neck or eat you out, making you crazy

Vi who has you sitting naked on her knees and spends hours worship your body: caresses, kissing, the tip of her fingers tracing your curves, did I mention that you are her favorite work of art?

Vi who is super sensitive, way more than you, and loves taking her time with you before you take your time with her, so you can both finish together, her core rubbing against your until your screams of pleasure mix with hers

Vi who memorizes all your limits and knows you more than you know youreslf, but establishes a safe word anyway, just to be sure

Vi who never runs out of things she wants to do to you and who loves discovering all the nasty little things you want to do to her

Vi, with whom everytime feels like the first time, but who also is the most familiar habit

That's all besties! Hope you liked these little ideas, thank you for reading and have an amazing day <3

[copperbadge]

Hi CB! I've followed your work for a while and I'm curious - I've seen that you do many times on a repetitive and consistent manner.......how? By the love of gods, how? What is this magic? Is it inherited? Genetic? Signed, please-halp

Hey, thanks for reading! I think you may have missed a word in the ask so I am taking a best guess at what you were inquiring about, but I'm guessing you were asking about consistent and repeat ability to write and post fiction? Gosh that sounds egotistical of me but I used to be known for being prolific and I think I'm still known for, if not having the BEST prose, at least having the ability to be of consistent quality. :)

The good news is that it is neither magic nor genetic, and one of those things that anyone can achieve -- it just takes time and a bit of effort. The secret is that I wasn't always even a good writer; what I have always been is a passionate writer. My early fanfic, from fourteen to eighteen, was actually very bad. But I did it a lot. It's hard to get truly good at something if you aren't passionate about it because you won't want to do it so often that you get good at it, but fortunately I fell in love with it. And once you're good at something you do want to do it all the time!

In my teens I wrote absolutely tons of fanfic, and if you were to read it (you can't, it's not under my name and some of it is lost to the ages) you could actually see me improving, because I started out so terribly bad. We're talking "Multiple people speaking in one paragraph" bad. But I kept writing and took feedback and when I went to college I took classes (I had a kind of unofficial minor in playwriting, including having several short plays produced) and when I came back to fandom after college I was...decent. And this you can trace, if you start reading at the start of my AO3 account where all my fanfic since 2003 is stashed; you can see I used to be more awkward in my prose, my pacing wasn't as good, what I considered relevant to include for the story wasn't as polished as it is now.

So, there are almost five million words on my AO3 account, which doesn't include anything I wrote before 2003; I'm forty-five and started writing when I was just shy of fifteen. This will be my thirtieth year writing fiction in April. If you spend that much time writing, even if you don't necessarily TRY to improve, you will learn and grow. And you learn how your own creative process works and how to wrestle with that, so you become consistent simply because you gain a kind of mental muscle-memory.

The thing is, quality and consistency is nice, but it's not necessary to enjoy either fandom or fanfic, or even writing. If you love to write, that's the best thing; you will bring yourself joy. It's one reason I never even considered making a career as a writer, because I didn't want my joy to become my job. That's not to shit on professional writers by ANY means, I have several as friends and of course I admire many well-known authors. But for me, it was important to preserve the parts I loved best, and I didn't think I could do that and still try to get a paycheck from it.

So the trick of quality, consistent writing is to love it enough to do it until you develop your skills and grow as an artist. But the real trick of any artistic expression is to love it for itself, to put heart into your work, and to do everything you can to protect what gives you pleasure. Quality and consistency are nice but if you love what you do they really, eventually, cease to matter. :)

[alittlegiraffe]

Title: The Fight

The night was supposed to be quiet, simple—just the two of you and some takeout on the couch. But it had escalated so fast, neither of you saw it coming. What started as a casual disagreement had turned into a full-blown fight, voices raised, words thrown like daggers, all of it spiraling out of control.

“You don’t get it, Marshall!” you shouted, your hands trembling with frustration. “You never listen! I’m always the one making compromises while you just do whatever the hell you want!”

Marshall was pacing, his face flushed with anger, his jaw clenched tight. “Oh, so now I’m the bad guy? You think I don’t try? You think I don’t care about you, about us? You’ve been distant for weeks, and every time I try to talk to you, you shut me out!”

You threw your hands up, the last bit of patience you had evaporating. “I’m trying! But you—You’re always too busy! It’s like I don’t even matter anymore! Maybe I don’t matter to you at all!”

His eyes narrowed, hurt flashing across his face. The words stung more than he wanted to admit, but he refused to let it show. “You matter to me more than anything. But you keep pushing me away! What do you want from me, huh?”

“I want you to hear me,” you yelled back. “I want you to care about what I need too, not just what you need!”

The silence that followed was deafening. Both of you were breathing hard, emotions running high. For a long moment, it felt like the world was holding its breath.

You could see it in his eyes—the hurt, the confusion. But even then, something inside you snapped. You couldn’t stay in this suffocating atmosphere anymore. Without saying a word, you turned and grabbed your jacket from the chair, making a beeline for the door.

Marshall watched in shock as you stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind you. For a brief second, he stood frozen, unsure of what just happened. Then, his heart dropped.

“No,” he muttered under his breath, the panic beginning to set in. He quickly ran to the door, throwing it open to find you standing at the foot of the driveway, your back to him, your posture stiff.

“Wait!” He called out, his voice desperate. “Where the hell are you going? We need to talk about this!”

But you didn’t stop. You just kept walking, your footsteps echoing in the cold night air.

“Stop, damn it!” Marshall’s voice cracked, and he didn’t care. He wasn’t letting you leave. Not like this. Not after everything. You weren’t going to walk out of his life when it felt like his whole world was crumbling apart.

He moved faster, his long strides closing the distance between you in seconds. As you reached for the car door, he grabbed your arm, spinning you around to face him. His breath came out in ragged gasps, his frustration and fear mixing with something else—something he hadn’t let himself feel in a long time.

“Don’t leave,” he whispered, his voice strained. His grip softened just enough to let you know he wasn’t trying to control you—he was just scared. “Please... we can work this out. I need you.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words caught in your throat. Your anger was still there, but underneath it, you felt that familiar pull of love, the connection you shared with him.

“I can’t keep doing this, Marshall,” you said, your voice breaking. “I can’t keep feeling like I’m invisible to you.”

“You’re not invisible,” he pleaded, his hand reaching for yours. “I see you. I see everything you do. I know I mess up. I know I don’t always get it right, but I’m not giving up on us. You’re my everything.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, but you didn’t move.

Marshall took a deep breath, looking down at your trembling form. He couldn’t lose you—not like this. Not when things had already been tough enough.

Before you could even react, he stepped forward, his hands gently but firmly wrapping around your waist. “I’m not letting you walk away from me.”

“What are you—” you gasped, but Marshall didn’t give you a chance to finish your sentence.

In one swift motion, he lifted you off the ground, your feet dangling in the air, and he started walking back toward the house.

“Put me down!” you protested, trying to wriggle out of his grip, but he tightened his hold, not allowing you to break free.

“Not until you listen,” he said, his tone soft but insistent, his voice thick with emotion. He wasn’t going to let you go, not when you were both this close to fixing things.

He carried you back inside the house, shutting the door behind him with a force that echoed through the quiet night. He didn’t put you down until you were back in the living room, sitting on the couch. He kneeled in front of you, his hands resting on your knees, his eyes desperate.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice almost pleading. “I’m not perfect. Hell, I fuck up a lot. But I need you here. I need you in my life, and I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. Just don’t leave me, please.”

You looked at him, the fire in your chest starting to die down. His words, his raw honesty, hit you harder than you expected. And for the first time that night, you didn’t feel so angry anymore. Instead, you just felt… exhausted.

“I don’t want to leave,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I just... I don’t know how to make things better.”

Marshall’s gaze softened as he stood up, sitting next to you and pulling you close, his arm around your shoulders. “We’ll figure it out together,” he said, his voice calm and steady. “I promise, we’ll work through it. I’m not letting you go.”

You leaned your head against his chest, letting the warmth of his embrace sink in, the tears you hadn’t realized you’d been holding back finally falling. But in that moment, you knew one thing for sure.

You weren’t alone. And neither was he.

[urspiritualnurse]

•Pick a card. (left to right).

What roof over your head is blocking the sky?

Pile 1.

The term "I" begins to flourish and build a meaning when a child is given the space to do so.

In this pile, I see a budding you, very new to the world and your own reflection, being taught by someone whether consciously or unconsciously that their heart is your heart, their mind is your mind, their stomach is your stomach.

And since the teaching taught you that someone else is your identity and very being, I see you giving your all to that person in innocent hopes that by doing so, you are fulfilling your own needs.

Your stomach would rumble and naively you would run and feed the other person, believing their intake is what fills your belly.

When a being merges identities with another, catastrophe is bound to occur.

Doesn't matter if it's the very person who birthed you, bathed you, fed you, educated you.

You will forever remain yours.

And they will remain theirs.

And this pattern of your distorted sense of self who perceives another's anatomy, emotional need, mental pursuits, existential crisis with it all of its burden as yours.

Comes from a place of unaware hurt.

The sensation of belonging feels soothing doesn't it?

And all the crowd suggests one must belong to their own selves but what happens when you have no self that you know of?

You cling to the people you believe have a self.

You are hungry, yet the unawareness and disconnection to your own stomach leaves you in a state of repeating distress, for you can sense only your hunger but not your belly. And you repeat the sad cycle where you work hard, cook meals and varieties, run towards a person who you believe is you, or has a self that you do not, and feed them.......hoping....pleading to a power so high that the food....miraculously rests on your lost stomach instead of the ones whose mouth that you just fed.

You are thirsty, you are hungry, you are unsatisfied, you are sad, you are in need of help and support, you are in distress.......yet....all you witness is yourself repeat the miserable cycle where all that you need you find yourself giving to another......

For where is the location of your mind? For you to ever deliver a suggestion of relief.

For where is the direction of your mood, heart, spirit, and soul? For you to ever lend a hand to your own aimless self.

To feed, one must first know where the mouth lies.

You know what and where everyone else's entirety lives.

But not yours.

Until you discover your own, and connect with it.

Your hands will forever feed the mouth of another, every time the sensation of hunger rumbles in your lost stomach.

You are kind, not everyone in your place would have been so willing to give.

But your nature that was born a giver has become even more grand, so much so your aware hands cannot guide it well.

And any waters no matter how kind and quenching, if has no deep land guiding it to a direction of clarity, the waters are bound to drown what wishes to live.

Your kind heart doesn't need a dam, just a little awareness and willingness to swiftly change and alter the pace and the direction of flow.

When people say, "the world doesn't revolve around you. Or not everything is about you."

Mind you, it is.

It always has been.

It always will.

So take care of the first person you see, touch, hear, feel, connect to.

This person is the one who is bound to you by fate, tied to your flesh and bones, and is made to accompany you from birth to your death.

So yes, it is all about you.

My dear reader, everything is indeed about you.

Pile 2.

The innate creativity we all are born with, needs an environment that makes creating something fun.

But in this pile I see someone who came before you, buying a land, building a house, choosing every colors on the wall and even hand picking art to hang on those walls.

And they hold in their hands some nails, they appear rusted and unreliable and there I see you, being called by them and asked to hammer those rusty nails.

And obediently you do so, but such domineering hands and will the person holds, they stop you midway, not trusting the placement you chose, and picked apart a spot and even decided the nails placement, and then struck in the first strike by themselves.

As they urge you to continue after what they have left for you to work with.

But the nails are rusty and placed in such ways that it is bound to twist in directions that are hard for a frame to hang.

I see you doing what you've been asked to do, with diligence and intention simply to contribute and help.

But as the inevitable failure occurs, by their own misplacement and choices.

I see them blaming all of it on you, on your craftsman ship, your hands and your strength, deeming it being too much or too less, too out of control and in need of taming.

There, in you I see a withering spirit, a flower of creativity losing its colors.

As your eyes grow dull from exhaustion, and your hands tremble with anger and fear.

Your mouth itches to speak what your intelligence could gather, but....you do not.

For reasons dear to you.

And I see you never again, trying to dive in your creativity.

Sometimes creation doesn't always mean art and crafts.

It also means relationship, creating something in between two detached individuals, that brings them together.

But you do not.

The sheer idea of building something terrifies you, exhausts you.

"What is the point?" You say,

For in each released creation, there will be millions who will point out the flaws in your choices and placements.

And ones choices are a part of them.

Nobody likes hearing another reject the choices they have made.

There are million things of us that are out in the open, that we cannot hide or unrelease, such as our face, limbs, height and body structures, voice, hair, etc.

And even that we work so hard to trim and keep in check.

Because that is something already out in the open, that you cannot inhale back in, within your discreet existential pockets.

But choices and creativity, ideas, thoughts, feelings are.

They are unreleased, hidden and needs your definite yes or no, for it to ever be seen or heard by another.

So you hide.

"Being picked apart and criticized for what is seen of me is enough.

I don't want any more of me to be known."

And thus,

You live in confinement, alone even amidst a crowd.

Silent even amidst a lively parade.

But you see,

All that is in you needs a place of release.

All alone you are, and there is loneliness even worse than being someone with nobody.

The loneliness that pushes away not just the world, family, friends, lovers, but also your ownself is far worse.

For you, truly will not have anyone.

To stand infront of the mirror and find none of you reflecting back is scary isn't it?

The fear of criticism has reasonably scarred you so.

It is understandable why the thought of opening up and creating feels so jarring.

I could say to you, "leave all of those people behind who have nothing but criticism to spare." But I know it isn't that easy, for sometimes those people with poisoned tongue are often the most dearest to our heart and soul.

The thought of forsaking them or being forsaken by them, is terrifying indeed.

In such case, what else can you do?

If not, start with cleansing your own way of self speech.

I know for sure, you talk to you more than any of them ever will.

And as it is said, children pick up language, dialect and even tones from their surroundings.

And you have picked all of those, with it also their venomous way of speaking.

Clean your speech, first.

That is where you shall start.

Show and let yourself hear, what a speech delivered by kindness feels like.

Because nobody's hearing ears are a disposable empty bucket for another's vile talk to fall in.

Be generous with compliments and appreciative endearments to yourself.

You deserve it.

Pile 3.

If your world was burning, in fire ferocious and mean.

In such heated tragedy, from the smoke filled air, if emerged out a glowing hope of brush.

In sync, if the sky echoed to you,

"Whatever you shall paint, will be the fate's verdict."

What will you paint?

Anything and everything with blue I suppose, a tide, a blizzard, enormous town engulfing sea, hungry floods, rivers, ponds, rains, hailstorm.......

But I see you, dipping the brush in the color red, painting embers, erupting and angry volcano, forest fire, destructive flames......

Again and again......

As though you were once said to believe that you are a specific species, a flower so rare and in the verge of extinction, and can only survive in a weather or a land, burning with destruction.

And you live, as all should, trying to survive....and not die....not meet an early end.

So you do everything in your power, to create all of your previous environment because someone or something said, you can survive only on those conditions.

I picture a little round penguin, realizing the necessity of the cold for its kind and living from then, simply eradicating any warmth out of these lands.

Working hard to ensure, he survives wherever he goes.

Bringing in frost, in all the world's.

Regardless of the weather and breeze the specific land holds, forcing into it soul freezing blizzards so it could live, thrive, survive.....anywhere........not just live in one place and die in one.

Realizing that it wants to travel, move, see and explore, yet realizing it's own survival limitations.....

But you are not such species.

Neither are you such endangered flower.

You are a child of man, born with adaptable flesh and spirit.

No storm, no weather, no lands control you and your living.

You can thrive and survive anywhere.

But you believe you can only live in environments where you once started from.

Fire, burning world, heated violence, agitation and discomfort, struggles and teary eyes.

All of it, you think you belong there.

And you make it time and again your current reality.

For we all are indeed gifted with that said brush, whether we believe it or not.

The skies might not have declared a prophecy to us about what the brush and our hands could create and do.

But we have them in us.

So it is up to you, what do you wish to create?

You do not have to continuously live on fire.

Let the weather change, let the circumstances change, doesn't matter if for better or for worse.

Someone turning 7 if was proclaimed to bring forth disaster, should we simply stop the child from growing and changing?

Such disasters that threaten you into stopping a free spirited change are illusions meant to bring stagnancy.

No change is bad enough to be ever, locked up and avoided.

It's alright.

To try for once the color blue, paint waters that shimmers like crystals.

You are meant for more, more than what you had, more than what you have gotten used to, and more only comes when you move around, explore, for no matter how many coals you collect, 10 or thousands, if it's not something new.... a brand new discovered rock, colored pebbles, or gems even, you cannot consider the addition of the same old coal as something more.

For that is simply a cycle of repetitions.

Pile 4.

A child of man is the most moldable form of universal clay there is.

You can make anything of him.

Leave a child in the coops. He will walk out a chicken.

Whatever he is surrounded by or is told he is, he becomes.

Even if for the visible intelligence, it seems absurd to even believe.

But he indeed becomes what he is told.

Adaptability becomes curse to mankind when the one who is given the right to mold, are unreliable and distorted source themselves.

God lands a soft clay on the doors of a newfound home.

And watches from above as the owner of the place, molds the given piece into what he must, or into what believes he must.

Projecting all of who he is, the molder himself carves an image untrue to the clay.

I see in this pile, a child of man, molded as a worm with no limbs.

And he lives crawling, wiggling on the ground.

When all of his fellow kin, moves with pride, making use of their limbs and mobility.

He simply watches with yearning as the one who lives as the man they are.

Accumulates abundance, satisfaction, sovereignty, fulfilments and secure riches.

But he who thinks is a limbless worm, grows sullen with tireless, sad, envy.

What do you do when although inspiration strucks your reigning horses, but nomatter how much motivation rushes through the breed, it's worn out, immobilized legs cannot endure a mile.

Such is the case,

We think when inspiration hits we can do anything.

But for a man to write, he must have his hands in place, if not so, all the running inspiration are bound to grow tired.

Something needs to be there, a way through, like the tip of a pen, or a open end of a water pipe.

For anything to release itself, one must have a way through.

For inspiration comes to no use if you have no means for it to release itself into the open air.

And I see this pile, believing they are somehow different, taking pride in it yet at the same time grimly despising it.

Such are the sides, you believe you either are capable or incapable.

You believe you are either superior or inferior.

Sometimes we dance between both, like a fickle wind blowing left from right.

I cannot guarantee the worthlessness of standards, hierarchies.

For God, mortal, demons, spirits, also have hierarchies of their own, even planets itself loom over another with pride and the ones behind rotate with a sense of loss.

In this world, noone has to agree to what you think of yourself or what place you belong or are capable of reaching.

It is alright.

To be angry at the world for looking at you and measuring your height and reach and declaring your worth, is exhausting.

It is pointless to fight a battle you cannot win.

For your feet that walked to the place where your mind knows is a space where all gets evaluated and labeled, must be the one that is stopped and checked.

You cannot burn in rage and despair, that is the good part about being born in this labeled society, everywhere there is a written statement of what that place is.

So, when you walk towards such places that declares your worth, when it is clearly stated that very place, evaluates an individuals worth.

Who can you get mad at?

When you walk into a room where a major is inspecting potential platoons, and he says to you, "you are not suitable for war." You cannot get angry at the man who is simply declaring the specific needs that place holds.

You simply walk out such spaces.

You decide what your worth is.

And from there, don't you ever look back, or around, or up, or down.

Do not seek a direction where you can meet the gaze of someone who disagrees to what you have decided.

This fight is not worth fighting.

And dear reader, when you are inspecting your ownself, and evaluating your worth, all the anger, sadness, disappointment you have towards the world's standards and hostility towards those who can not meet it, let it guide you to become what you wished they were.

Be generous, be empathetic, be fair and have the core bones in you that stands on the belief that "all men are created equal, that such question about one's worth is in itself meaningless, that need not be asked."

Go get that bag! Go get that dream!

You child of man pretending and deluding themselves to be anything less than that.

You can and you will!

You too can hold and acquire what you see another receive and get.

For you too are a child of man.

Capable of giving and receiving.

[tacitusk1llwhore]

Can you talk more about your opinion on Mary and Arthur’s relationship? I genuinely don’t think that they could have ever worked, with Arthur being an outlaw or not, it seems more like they loved the idea of each other and even if they had ran away, that they would end up resenting one another (something that is sadly quite common in high school sweethearts who end up married)

Absolutely!!!

So before I get started, I just want to say that I don’t necessarily like Mary. Okay, I said it. It’s off my chest. Guys, don’t come for me yet. I’m not saying I don’t like Mary because she’s a woman or anything like that. It is entirely a personal opinion on why I just don’t enjoy her, and it’s absolutely debatable on the reasons I’ll be giving as to why I don’t enjoy her or their relationship.

A few things that sort of rubbed me the wrong way are the way that Mary talks about the gang and the people in it. They’re bad people, they’re murderers and outlaws, and she doesn’t have to have a high opinion of them. However, she knows that these are people who are dear to Arthur that he loves and cares for, and speaking of them to him in such a demeaning manner has to sting. In her letter to him the first time, she says something along the lines of not knowing the polite term for the women that ran with them, as if those women are beneath her or not deserving of the title of just being women because of where they are in life or what she assumes they do (this assumption of them being SWs is fair, but being uppity about it is not). She makes a few other off-comments that rub me the wrong way about the people themselves, which leads into my first point of why I don’t like their relationship.

Mary doesn’t see herself and Arthur on the same level. Again, that’s fine; she doesn’t have to, but that to me brings their relationship down a peg. If you don’t see your partner as an equal, then it won’t ever work; you won’t ever have a healthy relationship, and we can see that by how quickly they argue with one another. I mean, Arthur yells at her in the middle of the street, and she just takes it because she has said some stuff too—they aren’t this perfect lovey-couple, and I don’t think they ever were. You don’t feel that comfortable being that nasty with one another if it isn’t a staple in your relationship. They both felt fine doing that and acting like it never happened after.

This one is overdone, and it can go either way, but their relationship on her end, in the game, is completely transactional. I know, I know, but before you come after me with the “it’s a video game! That’s the point,” hear me out first. Other members of the gang, even in stranger missions, will have missions or scenes where you’re not doing anything for them: Charlotte making Arthur dinner as a thank you, Albert inviting Arthur to the gallery and hanging a picture of him, same with Charles (painter), The Nun sits and talks to Arthur, comforts him as he confides in her, even Rains Fall takes Arthur to get some herbs for his cough. In camp, you can interact with people like normal; there are even times where you can sit down and talk with the women in camp about everything, have heart-to-hearts. The only time they see one another was when she needed something, and the only way they go out on a date is if Arthur agrees to it. This is after the mission where you help her get her brooch back. I feel like this is intentional. There are no fun letters sent back and forth, no additional interactions of them just being (other than the date, which again, only was out of convenience). The only time they see one another is for transaction. Which I feel was intentional.

Them running away together could’ve never worked. Mary even says so herself. She has this wonderful idea of Arthur in her head when they’re together, but as soon as they’re apart, all of the flaws and demons he has come rushing back in. I can’t imagine how maddening it would be for her to be with someone who she knows deep down is someone she loves the idea of, the prospect of what they CAN be, not what they are. For him, it would be maddening to know that the person you’re with looks down on you, that they don’t see you as an equal, that you’re beneath them. Pushing this notion in their head, you can be better than what you are while never truly accepting you as you are, flaws and all. Not to mention that irresistible pull for him to go back to that life eventually. Those demons he does face would always be right around the corner, and giving into them even in the slightest would strain the relationship more.

There was a reason their engagement didn’t work, and Mary has every right in the world to not want to be with Arthur or be involved in the life he leads, no woman who has had the experiences and life she has would. We can see how that works out with Molly. Their relationship is built on idealistic versions of the other and transactions. They miss the nostalgia, that first love. Not to say they don’t have love for one another because it’s very clear they do, but not the love that’s going to weather any storm. Mary and Arthur have such a complex relationship, and I love to talk about it, but I don’t like them together as much as I may get flamed for that. They would, as you said, absolutely end up resenting one another because of these issues. They would never have truly worked out as much as I wished for the both of them.

Loved this ask!

[nmakii]

after all this time, you and i

— for @nanasesgirlfriend. even though you want to, just try to never grow up.

— just the admirations of nanase, a lovesick boy, on his girlfriend’s birthday

sighs… how to write ab nanase…

12:00.

“happy birthday, darlin’!” nanase hugged you from behind, pulling you into his chest as he falls back into your bed. you squeal from the sudden pin down as you squirm in you boyfriend’s grasp.

“eek, niji!” you gasp, all before laughing out loud. “thanks…” you hum, curling to his side and kissing him. he snuggles his head on top of your’s as he pulls out his phone.

you turn your head to see what he could possibly be doing, and you see that he’s opening up his instagram, posting an adorable birthday story filled with pictures of you, as ‘the most beautiful thing’ by bruno major plays. he knows how much you love to be shown off after all.

he posts it, and your phone goes off from his story mention. you look up to him, cheeks flushed, and he grins like a golden retriever. his meaty fingers move to untangle the messy strands of hair caught in your face, and he cheekily moves once again. now with you beneath him, and his face nestled on the nape of your neck, breathing in your scent.

“…i love ya, darlin’…” he murmurs, his head popping up. his eyes gleam, reflecting your appearance, as his pupils dilate at the very sight of you. “i love you too, niji.” you hum back.

you finally manage to claw nanase off of you, and he pouts. but he understands, nonetheless. “i’ll see ya tomorrow. y’should get some sleep, ho‘kay? i bet my girl’s gonna get swarmed tomorrow!” he jokingly boasts, skipping over his syllables. you frown, eyebrows creasing from disappointment. “you’re not sleeping over? why not? it’s my birthday, niji…” you whine, using the tone you know makes him give you what you want.

and it works; your tone makes his heart break, he wants to just forget what he was gonna do and sleep over instead. but, he’s gotta! it’s for your surprise! he mentally reinforces himself as he prepares to say the one word that he hates saying to you.

“…no, i can’t..! i’m sorry, baby!” he apologizes. he’s weak when it comes to you. he’s really never said no to you before. “just wait ‘til tomorrow, darlin’! i got a surprise for ya! i promise i’ll be there when ya wake up!” he compromises, his sweet smile enough to rid you of your disappointment.

“hmm… ho’kay, if you say so…” you shrug, “you should get home then. it’s dangerous to walk home at midnight, y’know?”

at your warning, nanase nods. “yep! i know! but, i can handle myself, don’tcha even worry, baby!” he gives you a final goodbye kiss.

you frown as he starts to move off of you. “alright, i’ll see you tomorrow, niji… i love yaaa….” and he stands up, leaving you alone in your bed. “i’ll text ya when i get home. i love ya too!” he waves goodbye before finally leaving your house.

you look out your window, and see him walk to his house, which is quite literally, just across from you’s. you see him standing on the grass, taking out his phone. and, you receive a notification from nanase.

niji 💗: im home!!!! ill see u tomorrow ily 😣

you laugh at the notification and text back.

hehehe i see u rn. ilyt 💗

at your text, nanase looks at your house accusingly, looking up to what he estimated to be your bedroom window, and waves hello, hoping you see him. and though he can’t see it, you wave back.

after making sure he makes it into his house, you fall back into bed, excited for tomorrow and for what surprise your boyfriend may have planned for you. your excitement is so evident, that you just pass out on your bed. you don’t even realize you’ve fallen asleep.

it isn’t until you wake up that you’ve realized. nanase’s face hovering your’s, and everything. “mornin’ darlin’! time to wake up!” and, you’re more than startled when you wake up.

“niji..?!” you yell out, almost accidentally punching him. thank the heavens that you didn’t. your heart rate spikes up, before slowly crawling it’s way down. and, as you finally process everything, you check the time.

11:30.

you sit up, and notice a large box sitting on the floor beside your bed. “what’s that?” you ask him, pointing to the large box. “oh, this? this is yer surprise!” he proudly boasts, picking it up and placing it in your lap. “open it, why don’tcha?!” he excitedly encourages, his blunt fingernails tapping on the cardboard box.

you do as instructed, and open to see a beautifully decorated cake. frosted in a baby shade of your favorite color, the edges are piped with white frosting using an open star piping tip— white, purple, and pink iridescent beaded sprinkles cover the top, and a hastily written “happy birthday, princess” fills the empty space.

you frown with endearment and sincere gratitude, as you try to hold back the tears in your eyes. and, you can feel your heart ‘flutter’ at his actions, as he’d say it. nanase notices your expression, and frowns. “wh…what? ya don’t like it..?”

“no, no..! i love it! it’s perfect!” you quickly move to correct him. and nanase smiles, relieved that you love it. “whew! i took a train allllll the way to kyoto, so that hiori could’a helped me out! i’m glad you like it!”

huh. so, that’s why he was gone without notice after school two days ago.

you laugh at his silliness, and kiss him. “thank you, niji… you don’t have an idea how much this means to me…” you hum against his lips. his eyebrows raise in interest, and he responds, “uh-huh? you’ve got no idea how much you mean to me, darlin’…”

, and your heart sky rockets.

into the moon. you can’t believe how unbelievably lucky you got to meet nanase, much less date him.

both of your hands move to the sides of his face, and pull him in for a kiss, careful not to ruin the cake sitting on your lap. he gratefully accepts the kiss, and returns it in full.

when you finally pull away, your forehead rests on his, covered by his headband. “i love you.” you mutter against his lips. but those three words hold so much more than just their definitions— they carry words of gratitude for always staying by your side, apologies for when you were too much and over-emotional, words of longing to express how you want to stay with him forever; all of it.

“i love ya too, dear.” he smiles back. this was what you loved about nanase.

no matter what would happen, you knew he’d always come through for you.