#because you're comfortable and you're eating together

[bluzebub19]

I have a request for how the Arcane characters (Viktor, Jayce, Jinx, Vi, Heimerdinger, Ekko) look so that the reader can access their cuteness. Maybe they are doing or saying something to the reader and the reader suddenly starts hugging and petting them, calling them cute. How would they react to this?

Note: So... I'm the only one who thinks Heimerdinger is really cute. Why aren't there fanfics with him? Mysteries of life..

Arcane characters being called cute by their s/o while they're working

Writer's note: Thanks for requesting! It took longer than I expected because I kept deleting some of the dialogue from how cheesy and cringe it sounded lmao. Heimerdinger is not on my list of characters I write for, but I figured I'll write him this one time. I hope you don't mind that I also added Mylo, cuz why not?

Request/s: Open!

Warning/s: Get a dentist. This is some tooth-rotting fluff. Not proofread and english isn't my native language.

Character/s: Viktor, Jayce, Jinx, Vi, Ekko, Heimerdinger and Mylo

● Viktor tends to get lost in his work, mumbling equations or sketching out blueprints for his projects. You find this incredibly endearing, but not when he gets so absorbed that he forgets to eat or sleep.

● If you suddenly hug him or call him cute, he’ll freeze in shock at first. He blinks up at you as if you just said something in a language he doesn’t understand. Then, his cheeks will flush a light pink, and he’ll chuckles softly. “Cute is... not a term I hear often. But thank you."

● Over time, he grows more comfortable and secretly enjoys the affection. He may even lean into it, but he’ll never outright admit it. Instead, he might deflect with a shy smile and, “You should focus on more important matters."

● Yeah no, that's a sign for you to keep doing it.

● Jayce is the golden boy—confident, charming, and ridiculously handsome. He likes to appear professional and put-together, but you know him well enough to see through that exterior to the dorky, hardworking man beneath.

● When you hug him out of nowhere while he cooks and call him cute, he blinks for a second but chuckles as he turns to look at you. “Cute? Babe, I’m going for ruggedly handsome and sweet here. But I'll take it."

● Still, he's flattered and loves the affection you give him. And unlike Viktor, he's not afraid or shy to show you he wants more of it. He might pull you closer and say, "You're one to talk." He's a romantic and albeit cheesy guy.

● Now, you probably might be thinking about why and how is he cooking, but that's for another headcanon! (I just realized how I'm not even sure whose side am I on. Can he cook?? Cuz I feel like he can. But I also see him burning food-)

● Jinx, as we all know, is pure chaos, always working on something explosive or messing around. She has a habit of humming and singing off-key to herself while she works, which makes you think she’s oddly cute in her own... quirky way. To be honest, it’s hard not to find her enthusiasm contagious, even if it’s a little dangerous.

● One day, you catch her doing exactly that while painting her trademark designs on one of her grenades. The sight just makes you smile as you walk up and wrap your arms around her, telling her, “You’re so cute when you’re focused like this,” or something of the sort.

● She’ll throw her hands up and turn to look at you, trying to play off your compliment as a joke. “Woah, you might be crazier than me!" She grins and laughs softly, before making her voice sound more gruff, "Ya buttering up the author nightmares with your mooshy stuff!”

● But after her initial over-the-top reaction, she’ll soften. “Fine, soak it all in.” She shrugs and continues working. But deep down, she really loves the affection and she's getting more and more attached to you. You're giving her the kind of love that she thinks she never deserved in her life, so she really appreciates these little things you do. She might even snuggle up to you later, claiming it’s to “soak in all this ‘cute’ energy.”

● Oh, by the way, she'll make this happen a lot more often. By how, you ask? Well, by doing the same thing to you, of course! It becomes a little challenge betweem the two of you who calls the other one cute first and catching them off guard with it.

● Vi is all tough love and sass, but there’s a soft side she shows only to the people she really cares about. You notice this when she’s being protective or just in those peaceful moments when you're both alone together.

● If you call her cute, she’ll raise an eyebrow and smirk. “Cute? Babe, I think you’ve got the wrong person.”

● Later, she’ll definitely tease you about it, saying something like, “So, how’s it feel dating the cutest person in Zaun?” or "Am I still cute?" with a playful grin. She'll be teasing you and making you smile with that while she's half naked and flexing her biceps (she knows you love them), or when she just got done with a fight and is still holding her gauntlets.

● She loves it, don't let that teasing fool you.

● Heimerdinger is an adorable bundle of wisdom and fluff. You often catch him rambling about science with such enthusiasm that you can’t help but smile. Look at him! He's just adorable!

● One day, as he’s showing you a tiny contraption he just finished, you can’t help but reach out and pet his fluffy head, saying, “You’re the most cutest genius ever.”

● Heimerdinger chuckles, his mustache twitching with amusement. “Ah, well, I suppose I do have a certain charm about me, don’t I?”

● He pretends to be unaffected, but you notice the way his tail swishes slightly when you hug him. “I must say, your affection is quite... energizing! Perhaps I should study its effects further.”

● From then on, he might start subtly seeking out your affection—like casually leaning into your hand when you pet him or “accidentally” bumping into you while working.

● Ekko is talking to you about his plans for the Firelights while sketching upgrades for their hoverboards.

● You were quietly admiring him, the way his eyes light up and the focused furrow of his brows, when you suddenly blurt out, “You’re so cute when you’re focused.”

● He freezes for a second, then looks at you with a mixture of surprise and amusement. “Cute? Me?” He grins, a soft laugh escaping. “You sure you’re not talking about yourself there?”

● He rubs the back of his neck, trying to act nonchalant, but the smile gives him away.

● “You’re not getting away with saying that,” he teases, leaning in to nudge you lightly with his shoulder. He goes back to doing his work before playfully adding, “But if you keep looking at me like that, I might just start believing it.”

● It's these little things that matters. These moments, even if simple, it gives him hope and motivation to make the world a better place. The way his eyes soften when you look at him in that moment, and how he lets his guard down just enough to show you he cares — it’s clear that, while he teases, he loves the attention, and he loves you even more for it.

● Dude's got lines fr fr

● Mylo has always been the type of guy who had a sarcastic, sassy remark ready. We all know that from how he treated Powder.

● When you suddenly hug him and call him cute, he freezes for a second, unsure of how to react. “Cute? Me?” He scoffs, trying to play it cool, but it's very obvious he's a bit flustered by it. “Out of all the compliments you could’ve picked, you went with cute? I’m more like... cool, and handsome.” He throws a dramatic, exaggerated pose, trying to hide his nervousness.

● Despite his teasing, there's a small, pleased grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He tries to act nonchalant, but the way he keeps glancing at you shows how much he’s secretly enjoying it.

● “Seriously, though. I’m cool, alright?” he continues, trying to regain his confidence. “I don’t do cute. But, uh... thanks. I guess.” He says softly as he shrugs, clearing his throat.

● Later on, when no one’s watching, you might catch him glancing at you from the corner of his eye, a small smile on his face, clearly still flattered.

Can you guys guess which is my favorite based on how long their headcanons are

[parfaitblogs]

i have more than enough ❀ s. reid x reader

in which the holiday season is achingly difficult to get through, when you are spencer reid, who believes he is no longer allowed to enjoy them. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: hurt/comfort tags: established relationship. post prison!reid. word count: 2k a/n: and for my final act? the parfaitblogs special (post prison reid fic to a searows song). merry christmas from australia because it IS the 25th here!!! this is the end of my christmas advent calendar!! i had soo much fun writing these stories thank you to all that requested ♡

❄︎ advent calendar masterlist

He does not deserve a Christmas. 

Perhaps that is the only thing that runs through Spencer Reid's mind the second the Halloween decor filtered out of the stores, reindeer mugs entered them; while candy canes and Santa hats adorned every little item, and Christmas trees lit up every corner of every mall.

No matter what state he traveled to, he couldn't escape the festivities of the holiday season. He's pretty sure he's the only person who wants to. 

You waited for him. He feels immensely guilty for just how much waiting you've had to do all year. Waiting for him to go to trial, waiting for him to get out of prison, waiting for him to let you in again. 

Waiting, waiting, waiting.

You're waiting again. A Christmas tree that blandly sits empty and undecorated in the corner of your shared apartment; a Christmas roast you aren't sure if you'll even cook takes up too much space in your fridge; gingerbread cookies you promised your friends weeks ago remaining unbaked. 

He knew you were upset about it. His Christmas loving girlfriend forced to mute the celebrations of her favourite holiday because he couldn't find it in him to be excited about it. 

He didn't know how to fix it, really. 

You had tried everything to get him back into the Christmas spirit he's had for the past three years you've spent together. Baking with him, picking out the very Christmas tree that leaves the room smelling like a pine forest together, Christmas shopping for the presents he had no will to buy for his family and friends. 

Nothing had worked. 

"Spence?"

Sitting awkwardly at his — now — very minimally decorated desk, his head lifts from the papers in front of him, eyebrows frowning towards each other as his eyes land on you.

"Hi," he murmurs, putting the pen in his hand down in an effort to give you his full attention. He was getting better at that, these days. 

"I finished dinner," you tell him, fingers fidgeting with one another; a recent habit he had noticed you'd developed in the months between his arrest and release. "If you want to come eat."

He doesn't, but then again, he never does. And despite how awful he feels, he feels even more so for what he's putting you through, and the guilt that chews away at him is enough to will him to do small things — like eating — for you. 

"Yeah," he breathes out, and stands up from the desk, following you silently over to the meal sitting at the edge of the kitchen bench you had cooked for the two of you.

Silence overwhelmed you two as you ate, as it usually does. Sitting curled up beside one another on the couch, sharing a blanket and yet still feeling so distant from each other regardless. 

"Did you call your mom?" you ask him, and his fork pauses in the plate. 

Right. It's Christmas. The time for calling family members and sharing love for them during this supposed to be joyous time. 

"Not yet," he shakes his head. "I'll... get to it. Before Christmas is over."

"You have a week," you remind him, though it isn't to be passive aggressive at all. You genuinely wonder if he's forgotten the date of Christmas that has quickly crept up on you both.

"I know."

You stare silently at the coffee table after a short nod to his words, and you wrack your brain for things to say, just to keep him talking.

"Can I give you your gift before Christmas day?" 

He lifts his head, and you feel his eyes transfix on you.

"If you want."

You want him to want it too, but you aren't sure if that's a reasonable wish anymore. 

"I do," you nod, and quickly finish up your food, before you stand, and leave the room altogether. 

He places his plate next to yours on the coffee table — he'd remember to get to cleaning those later — just as you return, a square shaped brown paper gift in your hands, a purple ribbon tied in a bow around it. 

"You got me a square?" he asks you, and your heart warms at the teasing tone in his voice. He's trying. 

"Open it," you press, instinctively shaking his shoulder with both hands pressed up against it. 

"Okay, okay."

He's meticulous in pulling the plain wrapping paper off, and you almost want to open the gift for him. 

"Did you make this?" he asks you as he carefully pulls the square apart in front of your eyes, though he does already know the answer before you have a chance to start nodding your head. 

A Victorian Puzzle Purse situates delicately in his hands. Hands that pull it apart ever so slowly, taking note of every little drawn and painted detail on the paper, opening it up to a letter that he spent two minutes reading through — confirming that he was not only reading it once through. 

"Do you like it?" you ask him, almost hesitantly. 

"Victorian Puzzle Purse's were how lovers would communicate for Valentine's day," he says, instead of answering your question directly, as he neatly folds it back up into the intricate origami square it was originally when he pulled it out. "Sorry," he quickly adds, his eyes landing back on you. "That wasn't an answer. I do. I like it a lot."

"I know it isn't much, but I don't want to overwhelm you with gifts this Christmas. I'm honestly not even expecting anything big. We can just order food in and watch movies or something this year, if you'd prefer. You just have to promise me you'll at least let me put mistletoe up outside our bedroom, because it's kind of become tradition and... sorry."

He's staring at you, half dumbfounded, half in awe, as you realise you were rambling instead of sitting in the moment of him enjoying something seasonal, but you can't even find it within yourself to be frustrated at it. For he is letting a small smile grace his lips, and you're leaning forwards with a smile of your own, and for a second or more, he is not the shattered prison man, and you are not his distanced girlfriend. 

"You can put mistletoe outside our bedroom," he says, and you're breaking into an even wider grin.

"Really?"

"It's tradition."

You light up enough for there to be no need for a decorated Christmas tree in your apartment anymore, and you're threading your fingers through his hand to drag him up off the couch. 

Your gift to him remains on the coffee table as you lead him over to your bedroom door, prompting him to stay still, as you disappear to find the piece of familiar fake greenery. 

"Mistletoe!" you present it to him, and he takes it from you habitually, using the pin you also hand him and pinning it above your heads on the doorframe.

"I think we need to buy a new one," he says, hands dropping back by his side. His eyes are trained on you, but your own head is still tilted back, inspecting the faux plant. 

"I think we need to buy a real one," you answer conclusively, finally dropping your gaze to him. 

"Next year," he confirms. "Tradition complete?"

You shake your head. "The tradition ends with a kiss."

Hesitation follows your words, and you instantly regret them. 

It wasn't that you didn't kiss, or weren't intimate in any way. It's simply that it was on occasion now, and almost always motivated by something more important than a silly mistletoe tradition.

"It's okay," you cover your unwelcome disappointment with a smile. 

He ignores your reassurance. "It does end in a kiss, you're right."

"But we don't have to," you mumble.

"Yes," his hands encase your waist to do nothing more than to pull you closer to him. "We do."

"Not if you don't want to."

"Did I say that?"

You open your lips to respond, but the words die on your tongue. 

"What did I do to make you think I don't want to kiss you, angel?" he's frowning now, and you feel guilt settle in your chest. 

"Nothing, really. We just—um—don't kiss... as much. Anymore. Which is fine, by the way, and I can understand it. You're under no moral obligation to kiss me. Obviously."

His frown deepens. "I think we're experiencing a bout of miscommunication."

"What?"

"I thought you didn't want to kiss me," he explains, and suddenly, you're mirroring the confusion on his face. 

"Why would I not want to kiss you?" you ask him, incredulously. 

His shoulders slump at the question, and you force yourself not to fill the silence that follows.

"Prison," he replies, quietly. "I didn't think you'd really even want me once I got out of prison. You don't initiate anything anymore, either. I just assumed."

"I didn't initiate anything because I was waiting for you to initiate stuff."

"I can see that now."

"I didn't want to rush you," you tell him, as earnestly as possible. "I know prison was a lot, and you still haven't told me everything that happened, but I wanted you to not rush yourself. Or... us, I guess."

He swallows the lump of emotion that lodges in his throat. "I thought you were disappointed in me. Or—well, scared of me."

"No," your heart shatters, and you're sure he can hear it in your voice as your hands instantly cup his cheeks, fingers brushing over his cheekbones. "No, oh my God, Spencer."

"You shouldn't use the lord's name in vain. It's Christmas," he jokes, weakly. The smile you give him is weak, too.

"I was terrified for you. I was so worried about you in prison, and—and what they were doing to you in there. But never of you. Not a single part of me will ever be scared of you, sweet boy."

"I'm scared of me," he whispers, and his voice cracks in a way that has tears welling in your eyes. "I think differently, you know."

"And that automatically means I should be scared of you? Or makes you any less deserving of love?"

His silence is enough of a response. 

"I love you," you settle on telling him. "No matter what baggage you came back to me with. You deserve so much love, and I hate that you have been through so much. So much so that you believe yourself undeserving. You are not. You never will be. I will spend the rest of my life proving that to you, if I must. Or as long as you will let me."

"Forever," he replies, and you feel his hands close over your own on his face. "I will let you forever."

"Thank God. It'd be kind of embarrassing if I say all this and then you were to break up with me tomorrow," you say, and his cheeks stretch beneath your hands as he huffs a laugh.

"I won't break up with you."

"I wouldn't let you, anyways."

"Oh really?" his hands slide down to your waist once more. 

"Yeah," you confirm with a small nod, your own hands dropping to his neck, interlacing behind it, as you draw his head closer to yours. "You're stuck with me."

"I have not a word of complaint," he replies, and he's close enough that you feel the words tattoo your lips. "I love you."

And then he's kissing you, and there is an overwhelming amount of neglected feelings you had been missing poured into you, from his soul to yours. 

It was a kiss so unlike what you had grown used to in recent months. Fingers dug into your waist as a violent reminder of what you mean to him, and for the first time since May, you believed it. 

When he goes to pull away, you barely give him time to get air before you're chasing his lips again, and he tugs you impossibly closer with a laugh that vibrates against your face. 

You kiss him until your hands go numb behind his neck, and your legs begin to ache, and your waist is sure to have bruised in the shapes of his fingertips. Chest heaving and eyes full of more adoration than you think one human can have for another, you meet his gaze once more.

"Tradition complete."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[sidneywasfound]

WHY NOT BOTH...? | Lando Norris x Oscar Piastri x Fem!Reader 🎁

Pairings: Oscar Piastri x Fem!Reader, Lando Norris x Fem!Reader,

Warnings; Lando being jelous because of Oscar and Reader,Reader being a brat,Smutt,Hair pulling/grabbing,threesome,Unprotected sex,Dirty talk,Oral (f recieving),Handjob,A scene inspired by the movie 'Challengers' hehe.

AUTHORS NOTE; MERRY CHRISTMAS GUYS, I know it's Christmas Eve,but I'm gonna give you the christmas present now ♡

English is not My first lenguage this may have some mistakes hehe

⋅°₊ • ୨୧ ‧₊° ⋅

You and Oscar don't have any kind of Shyness when it comes to Public displays of...love?...You used to get Comfortable in his lap while he was sitting on the couch,both watching tiktoks in his phone. All this kind of affection really Made Lando upset about the situation between You and him,At first you were flirting with him, and now you're sitting on Oscar's lap?. It is the last year christmas party that Max organized, everyone was chatting,eating something from the snacks,dancing...but lando was watching you both,laughing together,talking...He knew that Oscar did it secretly, but every time he laughed he hid his face in your neck to pretend he was trying to hide his laugh, but he is clever and Lando knew it,he just wanted to find a stupid excuse to feel your neck and Vanilla scent on his face and lips.

Later,People started to celebrate, dancing and doing parties stuff. Almost all the lights in the huge house were off except for some party lights. Lando lost sight of them, since Yuki had invited him to the karaoke that was in the other room. After a while he saw them,Sitting on the big couch, She was on Oscar's lap kissing him Passionately,With one hand resting on Oscar's cheek and the other grabbing the hair from the back of his head,pulling him wildly towards her while their tongues moved in each other's mouths, Oscar stared to move his hand towards your inner thigh making you lower your kisses to his neck and play with the hem of his sweatshirt. Lando was freezing,watching You and Oscar like some kind of fetish, Fascinated with the movements of your tongue, wishing to be the one who is kissing you aka Oscar Fucking Piastri.

Lando decided that this was enough teasing for the night,and when You went to the kitchen for a beverage he approached You ."Hey,are you busy?" Lando said leaning on the kitchen countertop,You looked at him in surprise as you poured yourself some coke."Are you that desperate...?" You said,and god he was dying,It was a pretty common thing of you,You were never with someone just to be with someone, You emanated superiority and power making yourself seem unreachable,and that made Oscar and Lando die to be with you,looking like two chihuahas humping to your leg for attention. "i'm not desperate." Lando said trying to be tough. "And why were you spying on me while i'm kissing Oscar? Or maybe you were spying on Oscar ? Don't worry, I'm not judging!" She said mockingly,a thing that also put the two of them in a shy and submissive mood. "Of course not!,but i'm done of being with him one day and me the next, is this a joke to You?" Lando said grabbing your arm and making eye contact with you ."maybe...If You guys stop being such bitches to me, we could make an arrangement between us..." Lando looked at you confused, "just...Okay Lando, I'll wait for you in the room upstairs... let's finish this quickly..." She went up the stairs and lando stood in the middle of the kitchen surprised.

Lando decided to wait a little before going upstairs,He had to mentally prepare himself to fuck her so good that she would have to stay with him for the next few days. He sat on the couch,beside Oscar and Charles. Oscar looked at him sideways in confusion and started using his phone. Instead Charles decided to talk to him "are You okay mate? You look kinda weird and nervous" Charles said with sympathy and his thick accent. " Yeah mate,just a tough night,isn't?" Lando says joking "Yeah,sure" Oscar says unexpectedly with pride without taking his eyes off the phone. Now Lando really wanted to hit him, "sure,Yuki beat us all at karaoke, it seems that he has a hidden talent!" Charles says innocently "You two should compete sometime,To see who is the Best and toughest of you haha!" Charles said naively,while Oscar and Lando look at each other smirking with pride in their imaginary competition.

Finally Lando decided it was time to enter the room,She was lying on the bed with her clothes disheveled,She was barefoot, a strap of her top fell revealing a part of her bra,Her skirt was a little raised, revealing her panties between her legs,Her hair was messy,Her breathing was Messy,making her chest rise with each breath, and making her tits press against her tight top. "Fuck,You are going to kill me..." Lando said feeling the bulge in his pants grow. He approached her kissing her desperately "Wait Lando...stop..." She said as he kissed her neck "what's...wrong?...?" He said in between Kisses,"We have to wait for Oscar...",She said making lando stop abruptly,moving away from your neck to look at you. "W-wha-?",he was interrumped by the sound of the Wooden door opening."My God, You gorgeous...teasing me all the night wha-..." Oscar came through the door, paralyzed with the view of your legs wide Open and Lando between them."What is Lando doing here?!" He said upset. She pulled Lando off her and sat on the edge of the bed. The two, Dazed, without asking quickly went to sit beside her, leaving her in the middle.

"it's just...i love You guys so much!..and...I can't resist having just one of You..." She said with a fake pout."Well,You have to decide...You can't keep teasing us like this..." Oscar said,putting a hand on your thigh. She remained silent,She raised her head looking at Oscar and approached his face,Their breaths touched, she caressed his cheek lightly,He put a hand on her waist. She brought her lips closer and made them touch Oscar's,With their mouths half open,Slowly and slightly she began to put the tip of her tongue in his mouth,making him grab the back of her head to kiss her Passionately,Her tongue played his tongue, while he devoured her lips making obscene noises. Lando was dumbfounded,Looking at Oscar with jealousy while she lightly touched his inner thigh. She slowly separated from him while he looked at her enamorated with his mouth half open, leaving a thread of saliva between their lips.

Lando was silent ,thinking that he had already lost his chance until she turned to him. She came closer and started kissing him desperately, in a completely different way than how she kissed Oscar. Lando brought her closer to him, putting his tongue in her mouth and kissing her lips that let out soft moans. She started to put a hand under his shirt but stopped and separated from him, staying back in the middle. The two looked at each other waiting for her to decide, but she remained silent without saying anything.She looked at them flirtatiously smiling,"Why not both?".She began to take off her top, revealing her bra that they were wanting to see so bad. Without hesitating any longer, the two coordinated at the same time to kiss her neck on both sides,She moaned and grabbed both of their heads, lifting her head to give them space.

She started kissing desperately Oscar while unbuckling Lando's pants. From one moment to the next, Oscar appear between your legs lifting your skirt to kiss the Slim fabric of your underwear. You let out a moan that echoed on Lando's lips making him harder,You put your hand in his pants to take out his member stroking it. Oscar pulled down your underwear to give a lick to your cunt. You moaned lightly after this, moving your hand faster making Lando whimper too. Oscar started to move his tongue between your folds,Licking your clit and sticking his tongue as deep as he could. Lando lowered his hand to your cunt to start rubbing your clit,Leaving Oscar with less things to lick. You moaned as you kissed Lando with your hand squeezing and moving up and down his length. "I-im ah..." Lando couldn't finish his sentence when he felt his orgasm coming, leaving only a very pornographic moan. Staining his abdomen and a little of your hand. You grabbed Oscar's hair and pulled it, moaning as you felt your orgasm coming "ah Oscar!..." Luckily you didn't finish so you pushed him towards you, leaving him on top of you, making his member touch your crotch.

"Come on Lando...if you position yourself correctly I can suck you off..." You said while kissing Oscar but Lando was defeated on the side of the bed "Calm down guys, I already fucked her yesterday...I'm exhausted" Oscar laughed and you blushed when you heard that. "H-hey!,I just wanted to include you know..." Lando looked at her "Well next time we do this I'll fuck you." Oscar lined up and slowly entered you, letting out a moan from both of you. "Wait...again?,You're okay with that?" Lando looked at you pretending to stop and think,While Oscar began to thrust into You making You moan, And cling to his back "As long as I can enjoy watching you get fucked this good then I don't care." Lando said watching as Oscar rammed into you wildly,You just rolled your eyes."looks like The little slut's game went wrong" Lando said mocking You."She was trying to make us jealous and now she's like the obedient whore",Oscar said thrusting you faster.

You felt the wave of pleasure pass over you and you moaned as you felt Oscar finish inside you.The three of You lay on the bed face up, both of them lying on her tits, The music of the party was loud but isolated."Do you think this relationship will work?" She said, Lando and Oscar looked at each other. "If we continue like this, I hope it lasts forever" Oscar said laughing,You and Lando smiled, you were about to talk when you heard a familiar voice outside the door.

"Yes and I hope You guys clean the room and the sheets after this!"no other one but Max Verstappen shouted at them from outside his room.

"shit" The three of them said seeing all the clothes thrown all over the room.

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Tags: @that-one-little-soybean

[machisneedle]

hiiii! can I request some hcs (fluff + smut) for chrollo (or any other troupe members) if they have a husband/wife from meteor city (who he grew up with)?

im just rlly tired of ppl constantly making the pt k!snap their s/o’s tbh😕

ty!!!!!

Ofc I can !! <3 also I agree with the kidnapping part , I struggle to find good troupe content that isn't grr yandere zaddy kidnaps you. No hate to those who like that though !

phantom troupe members w a S/O they grew up with !! 🕷️ྀི` .

✧ characters in this are chrollo , feitan , shalnark , pakunoda

✧ content : headcanon format , fluff , smut / not safe for work content , fingering , oral , p in v ( chrollo , feitan , shalnarks part) , angst / death on pakus , also I don't really know how to write male or gn reader so I just did fem !! I hope that's ok.

!! Minors, please do not interact with this post !!

Chrollo 🕷️ྀི` .

✧ growing up with chrollo before the incident with Sarasa's death would be quite sweet tbh , staying up late together , talking about finding new tapes to perform and dub over. You were always a constant in his life , which was comforting for him.

✧ after the trauma of Sarasa's death , It just made him need you around him more. that need for you to be safe lasts into his adult years. This man is so protective of you , not in a cliche get away from my girl type way , no its in the way that your safety is on his mind alot. Especially with the line of work he's in. Probably keeps a troupe member with you at most times when he's not home , just in case.

✧ with the fact you grew up together , you already knew the troupe before it existed , so it would be something he couldn't really hide from you.

✧ I'm a firm believer in that chrollo is suffering from insomnia or some disorder that is similar. like this man is never asleep first when you're both in bed , when he finally puts his book away to sleep you can feel his arms snake around your waist as he breathes in your nostalgic scent. He doesn't get many times to relax nor to be so close to you due to the troupe, but he enjoys these moments more than anything , It brings him back to a simpler time.

✧ you both visit meteor City quiet abit (i'd also like to think you got married there) , seeing you pass out new clothes and food to the kids who live there warms his heart , it makes him remember why he fell for you in the first place.

✧ you were his first time and the only woman he wants to pleasure. I feel like growing up with him makes being intimate just that much more passionate , he fucks you like he might never see you again (which is a possibility If he isnt careful enough with protecting you , the reality makes his heart ache.) . Whispering the dirtiest but softest praises into your ear , acting like he isn't making you moan so loud under him , your voice might give out.

✧ this man eats pussy SO well , after the first time he eats you out your just stunned for a second , like what magic did this man just cast on your pussy to make you feel this good. He probably read a book about it or something. Also defo would eat you out because he likes it not for anything in return , your needs come first for him.

✧ about seeing you helping out the kids in meteor City thing I mentioned. when your home be ready. He doesn't have a breeding kink , but the thought of you taking care of his child and doing motherly activities makes him so happy he can't help but want to get you pregnant the second you close the front door. Get ready for a long night , he has stamina , and he won't be stopping till you're absolutely full of his loads. He'd whisper to you how "I should of done this so much sooner , my darling" or "feeling you this raw is pure bliss... like I'm fully claiming you in body and mind."

✧ 100% into cock warming you while reading a book. No one will change my opinion.

Feitan🕷️ྀི` .

✧ when you first met him , he avoided you like the plague. Honestly , at first you thought he hated your guts. Whenever you hung out with him and his friends , he'd refuse to reply to you but he didn't mean it in a rude way he just didn't want to embarrass himself around you because of how bad his english was.

✧ phinks eventually told you why he wouldn't talk to you , which made you feel somewhat bad ? To communicate with him for a while , you used a pen and some paper you found in the garbage heeps writing down what you said to help him learn some English.

✧ the first time hearing his voice is SHOCKING , he wrote down how he didn't want to because it sounded bad but you thought his voice was soothing which you told him , making him a bit more comfortable around you.

✧ As he grew up , he got more reserved but you didn't care sticking to him like glue , he could complain as much as he wanted saying you where wasting your time being around him or that it's too dangerous for you to stick with him but his words never held any malice more concern that you would get hurt by something or his actions but he'd never admit to having such 'weak' thoughts.

✧ like chrollo , he's another protective boy , but he doesn't trust anyone else with protecting you but himself. Would break someone's neck for looking at you in a way he didn't like , oh and don't even get me started if someone tries to hit on you because they think he's just some short loser who got lucky... let's just say later that night you will hear some screaming coming from the basement (aka where he does his work).

✧ you definitely know about the troupe , he's probably the only one who will outright tell you before you can ask. I mean , he literally tortures people... when you move in together , he literally can't hide it , so he's just honest with you. Another thing if the screams from the basement freak you out and you complain he probably will be grumpy about it , but he will line the walls down there to make it not as loud.

✧ for feitan knowing him from childhood will 100% be the easiest way for him to be comfortable around you , feitan just doesn't like people to be honest but your company is actually enjoyable for him.

✧ another cute thing I can imagine is him trying to teach you his native language like you taught him some English. You telling him you love him in his native tongue... the things that does to him.

✧ both of your firsts times are with each other. Honestly , sometimes you doubt he would have ever even had sex if it wasn't for you. Your first time was... not the best because you both had no idea what to do really , but after that mess of a first time , he definitely went to chrollo or phinks for advice. Another thing is not to make fun of him for it , it would really hurt his ego and he'd probably avoid you for a couple weeks.

✧ he is still a total sadist don't get me wrong but with you he's softer , he can't bring himself to hurt you alot. The worst he can do is bite you or slap you , anything else makes him feel icky because it reminds him of his work too much. He still finds your tears really hot though , and will overstim you just to see them.

✧ the first time he finger you , it was surprising how good he was with his hands (for a torturer , I guess you have to be). He's so unfair when he fingers you , he hits spots so deep you see colours then he'll pull back just near your climax saying he didn't say you could finish yet with a dumb smirk on his face as tears threaten to fall from your pathetic looking eyes.

✧ probably doesn't want kids even if you knew him that long his opinion wouldn't change , if you asked he'd say "no. I dont like kids" but really , he didn't mind kids he just didn't want to bring more kids into a world like this.

✧ super random but has eaten you out in your period before , he doesn't think it's a big deal... like he's around blood everyday ? What difference does it make.

Shalnark 🕷️ྀི` .

✧ he definitely mocked and teased you a lot when you were younger. Stealing your shoes when you where acting on the stage with everyone else or messing up your cute braids in your hair , but he never meant it in a mean way , it was his weird way of showing he liked you.

✧ probably the only one out of the guys to realise he had a crush on you as a kid , would cope by being even more of a little shit to you till he went to far one day and actually upset you , which led to admitting he was only mean to you because he had a silly little crush.

✧ this man is sooo clingy to you , he gives pathetic vibes like you can't leave this mf alone for a couple hours without getting messages like , 'babeeee I miss you (˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )' and 'come homeeee pretty please ? ｡°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°｡' (yes I believe he uses emoticons). When he's busy on troupe work he's calling you every hour it feels like , feeding you some lies about being on a work trip.

✧ he wouldn't be honest about the troupe with you. You know all the members as you grew up with them , but he thought leaving you in the dark was better. If you asked too many questions , he'd probably tell you you're being delulu. he doesn't want to lie to you but your safety is too important to him and he knows he isn't like feitan and chrollo , he can't always protect you.

✧ he's not yandere , but he is a bit obsessed with you , having cameras in the rooms in his house so he can watch you when he's lonely on a mission. He wouldn't take advantage of the fact he can see you without you knowing , if you started to change clothes or something , he'd turn the screen off. If he wanted to see you naked he'd literally just ask for nudes or look at old pics you sent him.

✧ your first time was... Good ? Shalnark actually knew what to do , mostly from how much porn he's watched to prepare for the day he finally got to do it. Side note he also made you finish during your first time.

✧ he's such a service top when he doms , he struggles to tease you because of how needy for him you sound , can you blame him though when you look so pretty under him ?

✧ whenever he is busy on work for the troupe but he misses you , he always ends up calling you even if you're in public , whispering sweet praises into your ear through the phone asking you to go to somewhere private because he misses you. "Baby... please ? It's been a week and I'm so needy for you" his whiney voice would beg at you , he was too cute to deny.

✧ he loves seeing you in really girly lingerie. It makes you look so innocent that he feels bad for having such perverse thoughts about you.

Pakunoda 🕷️ྀི` .

✧ while you were trying to catch an injured kitten to help it , crawling over the heep of trash it ran over , you saw a blonde young girl you soon learned who's name was pakunoda holding it , softly stroking its fur as it snuggled up into her. Her caring and nurturing personality has been known since the day you met her.

✧ you two were like two peas in a pod , always cheering her on in the audience when she was on stage with the rest of her friends acting out the tapes. It was so silly , but you both had made a pinky promise that when you grew up you would get married.

✧ after Sarasa's death , she abandoned you to focus on the troupe. She left you with a kiss on the cheek and a "I promise when we grow up , I'll find you... and I won't stop till I do." Being forced out as she looked at your form , hands shaking tears forming and soft begs for her not to leave.

✧ you had no clue how she did it but after you left meteor City and moved to yorknew she found you , waiting for her felt like waiting for glue to dry and when she came back she refused to ever leave you again.

✧ she isn't possessive I'd say , but she does sometimes check your memories to make sure you don't do anything bad when she isn't around. She doesn't worry about your safety as much as the others also because no one knows your her s/o but you both.

✧ she told you about the troupe after you demanded an explanation for her leaving you , though she didn't explain her nen ability to you yet mainly just because she doesn't think you're ready for that.

✧ got you a cat called ophelia , it reminds her of how you both first met and she also likes for you to have company when she's busy.

✧ you weren't each others first times , but with how loving and passionate it felt like it was your first time , you would never forget the feeling of her nails running down your spine as she whispered sweet nothings into your ears , leaving lipstick marks on your jaw.

✧ she doesn't like strap-ons , Likes to think her hands and mouth are enough to make you fulfilled , but if you ask her to use a vibrator on you she wouldn't mind.

✧ LOVES when you sit on her face , her nose is built for grinding on as she eats you out. If you were worried about crushing her , she'd spend a good couple minutes lecturing you about your weight was nothing to her and if she did 'die' being crushed by you , it would be a perfectly fine death for her in her mind.

✧ you would only learn about her nen ability when she found out she was the one to have to go get the boss. She had called you after telling the troupe about you , then explained the situation , asking you to go to the location of the troupes base incase this was the last time she could contact you.

✧ after she got kurapikas chain around her heart , she already knew her fate. After the deal went well getting the boss back , she came to the troupes base. Your wet eyes looked at her as you ran to her , falling to your knees , hugging waist. She felt guilty knowing what she was about to do. she ended up using a memory bullet on you instead of one of the troupe members , you deserve an explanation after you spent most of your life waiting for her.

✧ after her death , you kept her gun , keeping it as your last reminder of her you could bare to keep around yourself. Every once in a while , someone in the troupe would send u a message from a random number to see if you were okay the first year after. You were also set for life as everything she had went to you , but it never filled that hole in your heart.

✧ that promise of marriage never happened , huh ?

Omg I got abit carried away on pakus LOL. But I hope you enjoy <3

[captain-huggy-bear]

Scratchy

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: MDNI 18+, smut - lil' spicy, lil' racy, lil' bit of Lottie is feeling touch starved and it shows 😅 Not for the kiddos at all! Get off my lawn!

Summary: Quinn will do most things to make you laugh, his favourite thing about growing out his beard is the fact that it's a weapon of mass destruction when breaking that laugh out of you. It also makes you a little weak at the knees and hot behind the collar too which is a bonus.

Notes: I haven't kissed someone in 3 years, okay? I miss the scratch of a beard and Quinn has such a good beard at the moment, leave me alone! Don't judge me, just enjoy the fruits of my imagination.

Also Merry Xmas/Happy Holidays for tomorrow, this is my present to you all :) xx

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

It's a still sort of evening, the sort of dim, cozy quiet that only ever seems to happen when the night is dark, and you've made your way back to Quinn's apartment after a date to the silence of his apartment.

The lights are low, but warm because Quinn had changed all the bulbs to a soft amber after you expressed how much you missed the warm glow of the old street lights from your childhood. You're curled up underneath Quinn's arm on his white sofa, both of you pretending you're watching Home Alone but really it's just white noise as the two of you cuddle up together. The TV taking a background role to the two of you, the main actors in this play.

Technically, you should consider getting your shoes on, grabbing your jacket and going back to your apartment, the clock ticking closer and closer to 11pm, but you both know that's not going to happen. It's a Saturday and Sunday means no work for you, Quinn has a bit of a gap before he has another game, and there's absolutely zero urgency or desire from you to leave the spot you're in. You've never been more comfortable.

Every date night goes the same way. Quinn picks you up from your apartment, bringing flowers to the door and wowing over your outfit. Looking at you like it's the first time as he calls you beautiful or pretty or any other compliment he can think of, before taking you to dinner somewhere the two of you have been wanting to try. Dinner is always fun, the two of you bantering back and forth, feet hooking together under the table, and hands twisted together on the tablecloth whenever you're not eating. Then Quinn always asks if you want to come back to his for a movie, every single time you say yes as he helps you into your coat and into his car. Like clockwork you always end up curled up together on the sofa, something playing in the background that neither of you are really paying attention to and like always you end up staying the night, the spare toothbrush now not spare, but yours, and a couple of drawers holding your essentials for the inevitable sleepover. Sometimes Quinn jokes that you might as well move in, except it's not really a joke and you both know that the minute your lease is up you'll do just that.

Quinn's cheek is pressed into the crown of your head as you lay back together across the sofa, your legs are tangled like tree roots, one of his hands resting on your thigh that's slung over his lap, the other wrapped around your shoulders, fingers brushing soothing circles into your upper arm. Your eyes feel heavy in that soft, comfortable sort of way, not sleepy but relaxed as you lean into the crook of his neck, pressing the odd kiss to his shoulder every so often - lazy, content, sweet.

He loves moments like this, where he's not captain, just Quinn, just your boyfriend. Where he can watch the way your shoulders relax around him, feel the softness of your skin beneath his fingertips, the press of your lips to his shoulder. It's that sort of slow intimacy that has him tilting your head towards him, hand cupping your cheek as you rearrange yourselves to face each other.

"You're so pretty, baby..." It's a mumble, soft and sweet, his bottom lip poking out just ahead of his top. You're tempted to catch it between your own but don't get a chance before he's pressing his lips to your forehead, dragging them down across your temple and cheek.

The scratch of his beard tickles slightly and it has you twitching and pursing your lips to contain a giggle. That little shake of your shoulders as you try to hide it has Quinn stopping just shy of your lips, hovering in place with that delectable smirk of his that he gets from time to time (but not often enough).

"Does my beard scratch, baby?"

"Nooo..." You deny it even as he teasingly brushes his cheek against yours, purposefully brushing the bristles of his beard against your skin until you squirm in his lap, twisting yourself up and above him to avoid it. Your hands planted firmly on his chest as if that will keep him away from you and keep your skin free of beard burn. As if you're strong enough to stop him if he truly wants something.

It's not a sensation you actually dislike despite the way you scurry out of his reach, in fact, he knows you love when he grows out his beard. The scratch of it always sends little shivers down your spine, but it sets your nerve endings off in a way that always makes you giggle like a little kid. It's cute, has been since the first time he kissed you and you pulled away laughing in such an endearing way he couldn't even be offended.

Quinn doesn't let you scurry away for long, flipping the two of you until you're on your back underneath him, he shifts a pillow under your neck as he does so. A small gesture but one that speaks volumes about his priority of making sure you're always comfortable. His hands bracket your head, nose brushing against yours as he stares down at you under his lashes, big eyes softening at the corners. He's so beautiful that you think you might combust in that moment, having all his attention on you like that makes you squirm.

"You're such a liar. This doesn't scratch? At all?" He doesn't give you much time to answer. Long fingers and wide palm of his hand gently encircling your neck, thumb hitting just underneath your jaw, holding you in place as he scrapes his face against yours roughly, the scratch of his beard across your cheek forcing a giggle from your throat that has him stopping briefly just to savour it. It's one of his favourite sounds.

The reprieve doesn't last long, Quinn moves, rubbing his cheek down from your own to the sensitive skin of your neck. Your legs kicking out at the sensation, fingers grasping the back of his shirt as you laugh harder, despite all protests you lean your head away to give him more room.

"Oh, yeah, this totally doesn't scratch! Not a tickle, huh? Such a liar, pretty girl." He rubs his beard across your neck and shoulder, the sensation has your toes curling, a hand sliding up his neck and into his hair, fingers gripping tight to silky brunet strands.

"Quinn!" You laugh it out, but there's a hint of desire riding your tone, eyelids fluttering closed. The scratch of his beard, one of your guilty pleasures, a secret you think you have kept well, but that Quinn knows all about. Has ever since the first time he shaved and your eyes held nothing but disappointment that you tried your best to hide, same way he knows you love when he keeps his hair a little longer. You're terrible at poker.

"Nuh, this is your punishment for lying to me!" He stops briefly to press a kiss into the underside of your jaw, even then his beard scratches as he does it, an inescapable sensation that has your fingers tightening in his hair, "Not really a punishment though is it, baby?"

"Shut up..." You mumble it out, embarrassment riding your tone even as your toes curl and your back arches into him, a leg rising to wrap around his and pull him closer.

"Oh, what? Cause you're embarrassed? My pretty girl's embarrassed that she likes my beard?" He brushes his cheek back against yours again for emphasis, nose trailing across your cheek.

"Quuiiinnnn..."It's an embarrassed sort of whine you let out as you turn your head into the pillow behind you, cheeks warm as a squirm out of embarrassment and something like desire winds its way to your stomach.

His fingers grip your jaw, turning your face back towards him, not allowing you more than a moment to hide away from him. Quinn's lips find their way to yours, open mouthed and soft as he captures your bottom lip between his. He lowers himself down to you, body squishing yours into the sofa, hips rocking against yours in a targeted fashion. You pull at his hair as you writhe beneath him, legs trying to pull him closer, a sigh breathed against his mouth like a prayer.

"You were saying?"

"Shut up..." It's an absent sort of mumble, unable to really think of anything else to say when he's this close to you, this warm, when all you really want is for him to kiss you again.

"Is that the only thing your pretty little head can come up with right now?" He's being mean as he squishes your cheeks together, lips a breath from yours as he mimicks you, "'Quinn!' 'Shut up!'"

"You're being mean..." You pout even as the familiar burning twisting sensation stirs in your gut, even as you struggle not to wiggle your hips against him and pull him in for a kiss.

"I guess I should get off you then, since I'm so mean?" He starts to move away, your head shaking vehemently no at the illusion of distance, "Oh, no? Thought I was mean?" Quinn attempts to push off and move away from you, arms defined and strong, straightened up next your head as he pretends to pull off you.

"Stay, please?" Your legs lock around him like a vice as he attempts to back up and put distance between you under the pretence of leaving, teasing you even as he has absolutely no intention of actually going anywhere.

"Is that all you want, sweet girl? Just me to stay right," he punctuates the end of his sentence with a roll of his hips back between yours "here?" He's rock hard against you, but he doesn't really care, this isn't really about him, it's about you and all he wants is to get you off. He could care less if he cums tonight. Not when you're whining into his neck and looking up at him like you might cry if he pulls away from you right now. Clingy and needy, desperate for him in a way that has his heart. He loves the idea that its him you want, only him, that no one else can fill that space.

Your neck almost cracks with how rapidly you shake your head, because as much as you want him to stay pressed against you, warm and heavy and delicious, you're not sure if that's enough anymore. Not when Quinn's commanding your attention, domineering over you like the captain he is.

"Use your words, baby, 'm not a mind reader, can't read that pretty little brain of yours." It's breathed out against the shell of your ear, the first stop before his lips trail down the side of your neck. This time the scratch of his beard is anything but funny, a little whimper leaving your throat as he sucks a hickey into your neck, one he's determined to make stay for at least a week, next to the beard burn you're definitely going to have as well.

"Want you, Quinny" Your fingers make their way back to his hair, its grown out so far in the season, long enough for you to tug on it when his own long fingers slide between you and tap your sternum.

"I'm right here, baby." It's frustrating and even more so as you squirm because you can feel his smirk against your neck, know he's purposefully acting like he doesn't know that you want his fingers in you.

"No, want you." you try to emphasis the point without words, too shy, always too shy to say what you're actually thinking and wanting and it always gets to Quinn. God, you're so fucking cute, how you refuse to tell him even while you're rutting against him and tugging on his hair.

"Here?" His fingers slip further down, hand pressed against your belly before slipping around to your waist, grip tight but not enough to leave marks.

You shake your head again, frustration building as you try to wiggle his hand lower.

"No? Mmm.." A kiss lands on the front of your throat and down to the dip where your sternum starts, while his hand moves again this time to your outer thigh, pulling you leg tighter against his hip, "Here?"

"Baby..." your voice actually cracks and breaks and when he pulls back to look at you there are tears in your eyes, frustrated tears that get to him and make him more than a little weak for you. He loves you too much to keep teasing you, pressing a kiss to your lips before mumbling against them.

"Oh, I see, you want me here instead, huh?" Quinn presses his thigh up between your legs, pressing firm against your cunt. You really can’t help it as you roll your hips against the intrusion, the fabric of your underwear brushing against your sensitive clit with each roll. It's an attempt, an effort to find some sort of friction, some sort of relief from the desire that burns in your belly and has your panties slick.

"Sweet girl wants to ride my fingers till she gets off? I got you, baby, don't worry." He doesn't expect a response and he doesn't get one, not really, just a babbling mess of words that broadens his smirk because you’re so pretty rutting against his thigh as you lie underneath him. You tug at his hair so hard he nearly hisses, but he's taken worse hits in a game before and he'd let you pull all his hair out to hear the way you whine under him.

Quinn's mouth covers yours at the same time as his hand slides up your thigh, long fingers pushing your panties to the slide quickly. Even quicker is the way he slides one finger into you, thumb seeking your clit in double time, as you moan into his mouth, hips wriggling against his hand.

"You're so fucking wet, baby, this all for me?" He murmurs it against your lips, thumb circling your clit as he presses a second finger into you, curling them until he finds that spongy little spot inside you, the spot that has you crying out his name and gasping for air, back arching off of the sofa and towards him.

There's not much mercy from Quinn as he thrusts his fingers into you, each time determined to curl against that same spot, his lips kissing from your mouth to behind your ear, sucking and licking hickies into your skin like your his own personal Monet painting.

It’s a third finger stretching you open, eased by the sheer amount of wetness that you drip with, and the way his beard scratches at the delicate skin of your neck, creating a shivery sort of delight through you, that has you cumming so hard and so fast that you think he might have broken a world record. You're gripping so tight around Quinn's fingers that he worries he might lose circulation in them.

You whine and moan his name so loud that he’s grateful he lives alone, no roommates, no brothers, no parents. Your body shivers and rolls, tensing and relaxing as your orgasm rolls through you in waves, as Quinn works you through it, thumb rubbing your clit and fingers still working against you but more gently this time, careful of your overstimulated nerves. “Fuck, there we go, I got you, baby...look at you, so fucking pretty."

Your hips jerk away from his touch, overstimulated and overly sensitive, Quinn lets you push his hand away, drags it out of your panties and catches your eye as he slips his fingers into his mouth, sucking you from his skin. He hums like you're the sweetest thing he's ever tasted and in his opinion you might just be.

His hand, still wet from his spit, cups your cheek gently. You press your cheek into it, eyes blinking up slowly at him as he rubs soft circles there. Soft and tender as he waits for you to catch your breath and come back down from it all, as his eyes watch you for any ounce of discomfort.

“You okay, baby?”

"Mmm...?" Quinn can't help but chuckle at the way you look up at him a little dumb smile on your face, eyes half-lidded and hazy. He’d be worried if I hadn’t seen that look on your face before.

"That good, huh? Got you a little stupid, baby?"

"Mmmm..." Quinn presses soft kisses across your face. Hitting the high points of your cheeks, the top of your forehead, the tip of your nose and the end of your chin. Careful as he helps you come down from it all, you start coming too a little, worried as you call out that he hasn't cum yet and he just shushes you. Tells you this wasn't about him, that he's fine and really, he is. He's happy just servicing you tonight, he knows he'll get his reward in the morning, the soft sort of sex that's all tender and sweet, the best kind.

He eases himself off you, even as you whine about it, hands and fingers grabbing at him, trying to pull him close again, always clingy after you cum.

“Need to get you cleaned up and ready for bed, baby...'m not goin' anywhere, don't worry.” Quinn's hands find yours, pulling you up with him as he stands from the sofa.

He's gentle as he guides you and your wobbly legs to the bathroom, as he helps you undress fully and stand under the warmth of the shower. His hands soft as he washes between your legs and over your sweat soaked skin, pressing soft soothing kisses into the beard burn and hickeys across your neck, even as he smirks proud of himself, of the marks he's left on your skin, claiming you as his for anyone to see.

He's careful as he washes your hair and helps you remove your makeup that has smudged. He's steady and sure as he helps you into one of 'your' favourite t-shirts, one you stole from him and claimed months ago.

You breathe out a soft sigh when you finally curl up under the covers with him, his body engulfing yours in his arms, pulling you back tight against him. You feel safe, so utterly at peace that it doesn't take long for you to fall asleep in Quinn's arms, even as he keeps his eyes on you with a soft smile, more than happy to stay awake just a little longer, just to capture this moment for a little while.

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

gen ; 871 words of pure complete caleb fluff for my personal comfort because i can't get this man out of my head (wow roxie posting fluff? girl what happened to you)

to be loved is to be seen.

a long day passed; he's there at the door. you can smell something simmering from the kitchen, the scent of comfort filling the room and maybe getting to your head a little... it's your favorite dish. you'd know that smell anywhere. and you've always liked it best when he cooks it...

he knows that.

to be loved is to be seen.

and he's pulling you in by the waist, not quite a hug, but rather a little bit of a once-over as he leans back to take a good look at you.

there's a pause.

the look in his eyes is gentle; fond. his head tilts, and there's something unsaid, unspoken, in the air between you...

you know the words on his lips before he says them.

"look at you, all pretty like that."

it's quiet, with a little bit of a chuckle.

"welcome back, pipsqueak."

typical caleb.

and this time there's a kiss on the tip of your nose, before he reaches a hand up to fix your hair— there's a piece of snow settled into it, and he knows that you don't like that. he'd brush it out for you, leave your hair neatly.

just the way you prefer it to be.

to be loved is to be seen.

and he knows more than you think.

you're an open book to him; maybe it's scary, and maybe it's a little unnerving, but—

maybe it's nice.

no words need to be shared.

he's happy to keep his arm around you, happy to wrap you up in blankets as you snuggle together on the couch and your favorite movie is playing softly on the screen in front of you. it's snowing outside, but you barely notice it; barely care. he keeps you warm from the cold. it's cozy. your head rests on his shoulder, and he hums quietly into your hair—and it's nice.

"it's been a long day," you murmur.

you blow your hair out from your face, and he fixes it right then for you. neat; the way you like it to be.

"oh, yeah? i could tell," he says. he chuckles—a little bit of a nudge in the form of a joke.

but he smiles.

"tell me about it, pipsqueak. i wanna listen."

to be loved is to be seen.

and maybe you scoff at him, but maybe you speak as he inclines. and maybe the movie's drowned out in the background, maybe all that you care about is the soft rumble of his chest when he laughs at the stupidest joke you've ever made in your life...

because deflect with humor, right? you've always done that. and he laughs, because you want him to laugh. and he reaches up to flick at your forehead. because he knows.

"you can be serious about it if you wanna, y'know," he shakes his head. "don't always gotta put on a strong front, 'specially not with me. so hit me. i'll take you seriously."

i'll take you seriously.

a safe space.

and they're simple words, because maybe you're not used to expressing yourself—

but he knows that.

he's used to it.

and he'll push you, a little, and you trust him to.

he knows that, too.

to be loved is to be seen.

and caleb knows a lot of things—what gets you angry, what gets you sad... the things you do to distract yourself, the things you like to eat. what makes you happy. when you're happy. your favorite show, your favorite song... that one article of clothing you'd always wear if you could, that book you keep on your shelf because the cover looks nice, but you haven't gotten around to reading it yet.

and he knows when you're tired.

he knows when all you need is for him to be there beside you, he knows when you've got something to say but you don't know how to say it.

he knows when you're pretending, too. when you want someone to breakthrough that little shell of yours, and say the words you want desperately to hear...

he knows.

because he sees you.

he sees you more than anyone else has, more than anyone else does. and not just with his eyes—with his heart. he knows you. he's engraved every little thing about you into the depths of his soul and he wouldn't have it any other way, not when he can hold you like this.

not when he knows how to.

not when he knows you want it to be this way.

and it's why he has his fingers running gently through your hair, peppering soft, tiny little kisses all over your face and relishing in the giggles that fall from your lips...

to be loved is to be seen.

"i love you, pipsqueak."

a soft murmur, a kiss into your hair.

"i love you a whole lot."

he knows you needed to hear that today, too.

and he means it.

because maybe there's no one else who could love you the way that he does; so whole, so loving, so pure, so... real.

you know that, too.

to be loved is to be seen.

and he sees you, and you see him.

to you, there's no greater love than that.

an : you know, real talk......... i really am truly sorry that the nuance of the caleb/mc relationship can't be translated into more western cultures that aren't used to this, i do believe it's kind of a shame 😭 because you have to understand that it's such a beautiful thing to be seen.... and i really feel that caleb encapsulates that especially given the nature of their relationship :( just. there's something so beautiful and comforting and warm about it and i had to get this out of my system before i go to bed 😭 MERRY CHRISTMAS EVE 😭

taglist : @darlingdummycassandra @milkandstarlight @thoupenguinman @valyvinny @rafayelsheart @jellyroom2 @chemiru @ywnzn @pepprrmint @angel-jupiter @cordidy @raiyuxa @xai-mery @radiantbrilliance @pikachuzhc @interstellar-inn @pixelcafe-network @hunters-association ++ also obligatorily tagging @unluckywisher (love u)

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[glassmermaids]

THREE'S A CROWD — donaldson/zweig

𖡼 an extended version of this blurb; years of unresolved issues and feelings make for one hell of a dinner. | content/warning: angst, some awkward dialogue icl, reader also played tennis and went to stanford, thoughts of cheating and/or emotional cheating I guess? | wc: ± 3700

𖡼 thank you @diyasgarden for proofreading this for me and giving me the encouragement to actually post it, you are a literal angel ilysm

You don't think you've ever been this nervous in your life.

In all honesty, that was an exaggeration. You could think of a few moments that rivaled your current situation; the day of your graduation, the night you scraped together the courage to finally kiss the boy you had a crush on and later on the first time you found yourself naked underneath him, the day of your wedding.

All of those times, it felt like the world was trying to swallow you whole and eat you alive, like everything around you was rapidly crashing down and you had no way of controlling it.

That same feeling has overtaken your body now; your chest feels constricted as you take labored breaths, but you ignore it as you wipe one of the many surfaces in the house for the umpteenth time. You could probably see your reflection in every tabletop by now, but you needed to do something to keep yourself occupied.

The whole day had been like this, up early in the fear of not having enough time to prepare. The morning was spent deep cleaning, and after that, you had started preparing the very meticulously thought out menu for the night. You had been on your feet the whole day, to the point where Art had grown increasingly worried.

He finds you in the living area, wiping at one of the photos' frames, eyes distant and anxious as you stared into the picture. Your efforts are interrupted by a hand placed on your shoulder, effectively stopping you on your self-destructive path.

You turn around to find your husband's warm yet almost pitiful eyes, sparing you a comforting smile. "Everything's already perfect, y'know," he says, hand smoothing down your arm before he grabs ahold of your hand. You sigh softly, shoulders deflating as the tension leaves your body at his words and his reassuring touch.

"I know," you say softly, "I'm just a little nervous." He smiles again, almost as if the notion of you being nervous is hilarious to him. "Don't be," he simply says, "It's just Patrick."

It's just Patrick. Now it's your turn to laugh, shaking your head as you let the words settle in your unnerved mind. "Right," you agree, "It's just Patrick." Art nods as he notices your now much calmer demeanor, hand giving yours another loving squeeze, and he takes a moment to really appreciate your outfit for the night.

The dress fits you like a glove — a gift from your last anniversary, he notices — and the low neckline places attention to the beautiful diamond necklace also gifted by him. You had chosen a pretty pair of kitten heels to match, he knows because he remembers them laying next to the bed this afternoon, but you've since switched to a pair of bunny slipper seeing as you've been on your feet almost all day. He smiles at the sight, scoffing a laugh when he sees you wiggle your toes in the slippers.

"You look beautiful," he compliments you, reveling in the way you turn shy at his words.

The intimate moment is interrupted by a knock on your door, and at once, Art can see and feel the tension return to your body as your shoulders go rigid and your hand squeezes his. Art checks his wristwatch quickly before his attention returns to yours again. "Everything'll be fine," he says softly, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead before he urges you forward.

You make your way to the door, taking a few deep breaths before you open the door with a bit more force than intended. Infront of you he stands like a dream, or maybe an hallucination, holding a small bouquet of flowers with an unsure smile.

You're absolutely beaming, he thinks to himself, watching as a smile stretches across your face, ear to eat. "Pat," you breathe before you're moving to wrap your arms around him in a greeting filled with so much warmth. He feels his heart ache hearing the nickname you've bestowed onto him so many years ago.

He reciprocates your embrace immediately, welcoming your embrace and taking the moment to enjoy the smell of your perfume and body lotion; sweet vanilla and cinnamon. He tries to ignore the standoffish, almost indignant look Art gives him from behind you, still standing in the threshold with crossed arms.

You pull away, and Patrick immediately misses your warmth, the type of warmth he's embarrassed to say he hasn't felt in a long time. You usher everyone inside, accepting the rather cheap, store-bought bouquet from Patrick with a genuine and thankful smile and soon everyone is sat around the dinner table engaged in what could only be described as awkward small talk.

It saddens you in all honesty, the way things now seem so strained between you all. You were obviously expecting a little bit of tension because there would obviously be after all these years of no contact, but you had underestimated to what extent that tension would be.

You can't help but reminisce about how things used to be between you; when the heat of summer would suffocate you in Art's dorm room as you all sat spattered around the floor with a half finished six pack and only each other's company to keep you entertained.

You've been together for as long as you can remember, starting out as long-limbed, awkward teenagers at the Mark Rebellato Tennis Academy who somehow found each other at a really crucial time and never really separated after that. You remember the night's they'd sneak themselves into your dorm room and you'd spend hours talking about anything and everything until they were inevitably kicked out by your bunk mate when it got too late and she grew tired of your hushed whispered. Some of those nights you'd end up talk about how you imagined your futures would look like.

And as you grew older, your friendship only flourished further, no longer awkward teenagers but confident young people who knew exactly what they wanted from life.

It was clear Patrick simply wanted a comfortable life like the one he was accustomed to since birth. He wasn't willing to work or it, and figured his talent would be enough to get him by and keep him relevant without having to grovel at his parent's feat. In short; he wanted the life his family had provided him, without his family providing it for him.

Art wanted what everyone around him wanted for him; to do good in school and tennis, to reach great success in his career, be able to make some money off of it, and then finally settle down and reap the fruits of his hard work.

You were hungry for your place among the best. You wanted to fully showcase the potential everyone had seen in you from a young age and to establish yourself in your abilities, prove to yourself and everyone else that the opportunities given to you were not in vain and make a name for yourself.

It all worked out for the most part, you suppose.

The reverie you find yourself in is broken at the sound of your husband's voice, shortly followed by the sound of his knife slightly scratching against the porcelain plate as he cuts at his steak. "You still playing, Patrick?" he asks, not really looking at him until the words leave his mouth. Patrick nods, mouth full as he quickly chews, not having expected Art to ask him anything seeing as the conversation had been kept afloat mostly by you.

"Yeah," he finally speaks, and Art hums, his mouth pulling to the side the way it always does whenever hes about to say something snarky or sarcastic. "And how's that going?" he quickly follows up. You can see the way Patrick pauses, utensils frozen in his hands before he's raising his head once again with a smile. "It's going," he says, turning to you before he continues. "I think I have a chance at the Open."

"That's great, Pat," you say excitedly, smile so wide is almost looks like it hurts. Your hand touches his upper in a quick squeeze to show him your excitement. It's an innocent gesture, but because Patrick is an emotional masochist in that way, his mind fixates on the feeling of your hand on his skin, warm and soft.

He returns the smile you give him, not as enthusiasticly but just as genuine, smile lines visible. "Thank you," he says, hands finally continuing to cut at his food. "You retired though, right Art?" he asks after a short while, now looking Art square in the eyes. "Yup," Art replies, popping the p a little too hard. "Why?" Patrick asks, "you still had a few good years in you, we all know that."

"I just didn't wanna play anymore," Art stated plainly, "I wanted to be home with my family more. Tennis isn't the only thing I've got going on." Patrick can't help but laugh a little at a jab so obviously being thrown his way, nodding in defeat and understanding before his attention now turns to you. You squirm a little under his now undivided attention.

"What about you? You still play?" he asks before he brings a cut up piece of steak to his mouth. You sputter a little at his question. "I kind of reached the end of my career I guess?" you answered, shrugging dismissively. "I've won a few slams, signed a bunch of brand deals. It was fun, but that's not my goal anymore," you continued.

"What is your goal now?" he asks, eyes gawking your every little expression as if he's trying to engrave it in his mind; from the way you nervously bite at the skin of your lips as you consider his question or the way your neatly manicured nails lightly drum against the table as you think. He looks at you if he'll never again get a chance to look at you upclose after tonight.

In a way, he already knew what your answer would be. His mind goes back to a few months ago, a sports magazine he had been paging through while staying the night at some dingy motel when he found the article of you inside. Like some lovesick teenager, he had spent close to an eternity staring into the pictures of you displayed in neat boxes between the chapters of the article. It felt like the first time in years he had allowed himself to really look at you, after what felt like a lifetime of trying to run away from you and your ever looming image.

The second last paragraphed had covered the same topic that had now been brought up at the table.

What are your main goals now after your early retirement? the question had laid in italics, catching his attention so much so that he had brought the magazine closer to his face as he laid in bed. Ironically, your answer had been the exact same as it is now.

"I feel like I've already proven myself in my ability. I just want to settle down, focus more on the domestic side of my life," you answered with an almost shy smile, shrugging again. Patrick hummed, smiling at how similar you and your husband's reasonings were. "Damn, you guys have changed," he says to no one in particular as he continues stabbing and cutting at his food. "I remember there was a time both of you would've been willing to play till you physically couldn't anymore, all in the hopes of 'becoming something', being the best. Especially you," he says, pointing his fork at you, "And now you're playing house." The words taste unnaturally bitter in his mouth, so he spits them out at you in a sardonic tone.

"But it's nice," he says, a futile attempt at defusing the situation, "that you wanna settle down, yknow? Really cute." A silence settles in the air after that.

The rest of the dinner goes surprisingly smoothly, albeit much more awkward than ever before thanks to the added tension of Patrick's brash words.

When all the now empty plates were being taken to the kitchen, Patrick quietly excused himself to smoke and you had directed him to the patio before you made your way to the kitchen where Art had started with the dishes. You watched as his broad back flexed and moved as he worked, your hand not resisting to come up and rub between his shoulder blades to relieve the tension that you could practically feel radiating off of him. He sighs at the feeling of your hand, quickly drying his hands before turning around to face you.

"Hi," you say "Hi," he returns, eyes briefly scanning over your features. "You alright?" he asks, hand comes up to squeeze your upper arm. "Yeah," you say softly, "I'm just hoping he had a nice time." Art's face scrunches a little but he quickly fixes it, humming in understanding as you once again get lost in your thoughts.

"I really think he hates us, Art," you say with after a few moments, looking up at him with eyes that looked like they were on the verge of tears. "He doesn't," Art says very assured, hand moving from your arm up to your cheek as his thumb quickly wipes the one tear that managed to escape. "He doesn't hate you," he continues. "I'm more inclined to say he hates me," he adds with a sad laugh, but you couldn't really find it in you to laugh. You move your head to place a kiss to the inside of his palm before you wordlessly made your way onto the patio.

Patrick doesn't notice you at first, only when the click of the sliding door closing rings through the silence. You spare him an awkward smile as you rub your arms to try and shield them from the biting cold of the outside. Wordlessly, you move until you're standing next to him, a silence loaded with everything left unsaid filling the space between you. His cigarette, half smoked, now hangs from the side of his mouth, secured by his teeth as he starts digging into his pockets until he pulls out a smushed packet of cigarettes. He opens it and offers the pack to you, to which you softly shake your head in decline, giving him an apologetic smile.

"I don't smoke anymore," you say softly, watching the way his eyebrows raise in suprise before he's haphazardly stuffing the packet back into his pants with a huff of laughter. "You really did change," he comments more to himself, making you furrow your brows at his town.

"I don't think that much has changed, Pat," you reasoned, voice uncharacteristically small as his words settle deep in your stomach like bile. "You're making it sound like we've turned into these horrible people." He spares you a look as he takes the half smoken cigarette out of his mouth, huffing out a cloud of smoke as he watches you intently. He not so subtly gives you a complete once-over, eyes going from the top of your head down to the bunny slippers that you were still wearing, having forgotten to change them. He huffs a small laugh at the sight.

"Why did you invite me over?" he asks, ending the question with your name. It shocks you how foreign it sounds from his mouth. You don't even have time to reply until he continues. "Is this some sick joke between you and Art? Bring poor old Patrick over and show him how much better things are going with us? How much better our life is without him in it?"

"No, Patrick, of course not," you retort, not even giving the statement a chance to settle in the air. "Then what is it? Why am I here?" Patrick asks, voice rising slightly in frustration as he raises his hands in the air, the cigarette between his fore and middle finger already died out. "I just wanted to see you Patrick, is that so hard to believe?" you ask, voice raising slightly as the irritation now settles in your body. He laughs at your question, and it makes you want to slap him across the face for finding anything funny in your frustration.

"What's funny?" you finally ask him. "You wanted to see me?" he repeats mockingly, shaking his head at the mere thought of it. "Yes! I wanted to see you, Patrick! I've always wanted to see you," you say defeatedly. "It can't be that hard to believe, I mean—" you scoff, "—You're completely estranged from us. You never call anymore, nor do you answer my calls. I invited you to our wedding, and you didn't even have the fucking decency to show up!" There's hurt in your voice, but it's overpowered by the immense anger. "What makes you think I would want to come to your wedding?" he asks, and it's like someone threw a bucket of ice water on you. The words hurt more than you could imagine, coming from who you consider one of your closest friends.

"What?" you ask, voice small and now absent of any anger, but an overwhelming sorrow takes its place. "You threw me out! You two found each other, forgot about me and all of a sudden it was just about "your perfect careers" and "your perfect relationship". I didn't fit into that mold but you were just to scared to tell me that. So you lead me on until I'd leave on my own acord." The words sound smaller and more far-away the more he talks, and you have to take your focus away from your own internal turmoil to notice how the tears seem to sit shallow in his eyes.

It's unnerving seeing him in this state, you believe you've seen Patrick cry atleast two times in all the years you've known him. The reasons are long forgotten, memories corroded with time, but the hollowness that had formed in the pit of your belly at the sight of him so broken was an unforgettable feeling. You feel it now as you stand in the wind, staring at Patrick who was desperately waiting for you to say something, anything.

"There was never a mold, Patrick," you find yourself saying. "That was never the intention, yknow. To make you feel like you didn't fit into our lives anymore. If me reaching out meant anything, it's that I always wanted you in my life. In our life." He says nothing, and for a moment your mind drifts to Art. Wondering if he was still in the kitchen washing dishes. If he had maybe heard the commotion by now. If he heard it and just decided to stay out of it and allow the two of you to verbally lash each other out on his patio.

It's always been left unsaid, but he knew you and Patrick had a different bond. You became close to him first before you ever even warmed up to Art. You had always gravitated towards him, because you were in many ways just like him. Art tried not to think about it for too long because inevitably the question of why him and not Patrick would pop up and he'd lose sleep for a few days.

Patrick's notion was so far off and he didn't even know it. He didn't know how much he actually fit in, or atleast how much you had wanted him to fit into the so called mold you had created. He was deeply threaded into every part of your life and being in a way he wasn't even aware of. A few years ago, when Art had proposed to you, you had thought about the possibility of inviting Patrick and it made your heart flutter. His seat ended up being empty on the day of the ceremony. When the conversation of kids had came up, you thought of Patrick being able to see your children grow up. The possibility that his children and yours could be friends like you were.

It was unhealthy — to be so attached to someone who apparently wanted nothing to do with you anymore, but you couldn't help it. At times it even felt adulterous; thinking of another man that much while being in such a happy and practically perfect marriage.

"I really enjoyed the dinner," Patrick speaks up suddenly, although his voice is soft and devoid of all the earlier anger. He ends the sentence with your name, but it still sounds so foreign coming out of his mouth, like poison he'd rather regurgitate than keep in his system. "Please, Pat," you beg. For what? For him to stay? To stay in your life and play part in the fantasy you had of your perfect life where all of you could be together forever? You don't even know yourself.

As quiet as ever, he throws the already dead cigarette on your wooden flooring of your patio, watching as it falls perfectly between two floor boards and onto the ground before turning his attention to you once again. His big hand grabs the side of your face so softly, fingers curling to the back of your head in an almost protective nature. He presses a kiss to the side of your head, lips lingering there as he takes in the smell of your shampoo. He pulls away slowly and looks down at you with sorrow eyes, but you can't find it in you to look at him in fear of bursting into tears.

For good measure, or maybe because he's greedy and wants one last taste of you, he presses another kiss to the side of your head before he's retracting and leaving you outside in the biting cold. You hear the sliding door close with a click before he makes his way back inside and then back outside to wherever he had come from. To your own disgust, the thought lingers that you wish he had kissed you one more time.

[possibilistfanfiction]

arcane prompt "hospital"?

[jinx deserves the world, also it's nice to let cait use her girlboss disposition for good sometimes, yknow. ao3 here.]

///

you hand caitlyn a cup of black tea she probably thinks is beyond shitty; it's all they had at the cart in the courtyard, and you still have no idea how to make proper tea anyway. still, she smiles — small, and residually scared, but genuine — in thanks. she's been crying, you can tell: her eyes are red-rimmed and the sweater of vi's she'd thrown on in the middle of the night is rumpled around the sleeves, like she'd used them to wipe her tears.

'she's going to be okay, right?' you look at vi's still, bruised form in the bed. 'they didn't, like, tell you really bad news while i was gone or something.'

caitlyn steadies herself. 'no,' she assures you. 'she's going to be just fine.'

'okay,' you say, and you trust her because she loves vi and because she's a doctor, and mostly because at this point caitlyn wouldn't lie to you. you scoot your chair forward and lace your fingers together with vi's hand, the one without an iv taped into it, and squeeze gently, just a hello. the doctors had explained that she's on a lot of medicine to keep her comfortable, plus the anesthesia from her surgery, so she's not going to wake up until midday at the earliest. but just in case she can feel you, you want her to know that you're there. you remember coming out of the worst sedations, medication that was wrong for you or just way too high a dose, to vi slumped next to your bedside, her big, strong hand steadfast around yours. 'did you see her x-rays or medical history or something?'

'i didn't intend to,' she says in way of an answer.

'ah.' you fiddle with vi's fingers. 'gnarly, huh?'

she puts her tea down on the small table near the bed and runs a hand through her hair before she scrapes it up into a messy ponytail. 'i knew, in theory,' she says. 'we've talked about things, of course. i'm able to help take care of when her chronic back pain flares, and how she really should have a surgical repair on her bad shoulder. but, i just, well. i suppose i comprehend the breadth of it now, more completely at least, the details in a way i can understand.'

you don't know; you don't ever want to know, not like that. vi still has nightmares about prison, still doesn't eat enough sometimes, still refuses heating pads and advil sometimes after a hard shift. 'yeah.'

'and i suppose, too, that it's hard to know how much she's hurt, even if it's so much less bad now.' she shrugs, helpless, and looks at you. 'i just love her.'

it had been terrifying, to get a call in the middle of the night from the fire department: vi had been in a building when it collapsed, and she was hurt and it was, potentially, very bad. you're not sure who they'd called first — you or caitlyn — but she'd texted you a minute after and offered to pick you up so you could both wait at the hospital while vi was in surgery. it had taken two hours before her dad came out and explained that vi had some internal injuries that still needed more fixing in surgery, as well as a few bruises and scrapes, but she would recover fully with time.

'you should move in with each other,' you say.

caitlyn pauses for a few moments, but then she lets out a quiet laugh. 'how long have you been holding that in?'

you shrug. 'you guys have been together for two years. i know vi wants to.' you don't mention that you hack into caitlyn's person email on occasion, just because you like to be nosey; you don't mention that you'd seen her and vi send property listings back and forth the last few months. 'i know she hasn't said anything to me because she doesn't want to upset me, or make me think like she's choosing you over me, or whatever.'

caitlyn considers it calmly. 'she would never do that, you know.'

'yeah.' you do; it's the thing you know most in the world. 'i also know that she's scared that if she doesn't help me at much, i'll have another episode.'

that, caitlyn has no response to.

'i've talked about this a lot in therapy.' you squeeze vi's hand, just in case she's listening too. 'at first i couldn't manage any of it without her, for sure.'

vi had spent her first month out of prison visiting you in your tent in the scariest part of town, not pushing, just bringing you food and warm clothes, comfortable blankets; she'd sit with you for hours if you'd let her, even if most of the time you talked to voices only you could hear and saw things she never would. finally, you agreed to go to the hospital with her, and from there it was more months of getting clean, and trying different medications, and really lame group therapy, and coming to terms with your diagnosis. vi was there as often as she could be, clean-cut for once while she went through the fire academy. you don't remember many details, but when you'd finally gotten released, she'd brought you to this small, rundown one bedroom apartment that she'd made as nice as she could. the first night you were home, she fell asleep in bed next to you in less than a minute, a few tears on her cheeks, seemingly of their own accord. it's always been a measure of love you'll always be a little in awe of.

'but, like, i remember my meds on my own now. i have a system.'

caitlyn's smile is honest-to-god proud. 'that's no small feat.'

you try to act nonchalant, but she's right: most of your medications have side effects that require other medications to off-set, and it's a nightmare if you don't coordinate them properly. 'and, like, my graduate program is going well, and i have friends, and i like climbing. i feel, not good, i guess. maybe i'll never feel good. but i feel real, and most of the time the world feels real too.'

caitlyn lays her hand on top of yours, and vi's.

'anyway,' you say, clearing your throat so you don't cry. you run your free hand through your hair, grown out some now after your "interesting decision," as vi had said, last year during a meltdown. 'vi can move out, and ekko can move in to our apartment. he's —' your boyfriend? your best friend? your favorite person, other than vi?

caitlyn smiles gently. 'he is.'

'he knows what to do, if i need help.'

'and i know you want to live with vi, and i know she wants to live with you.' even though you invade their privacy by checking emails, you'd never spill the beans that they've both individually been looking at rings. 'i can manage, without her there as much. i don't think either of us ever thought that would be our reality, which is why vi hasn't brought it up. i know she's still scared, probably forever. it was scary.' you take a big breath and then let it out; when you'd first gotten your diagnosis, it seemed like you would never get to be a full, independent person, and then it would be a death sentence. 'but i want to try. i can try.'

caitlyn squeezes your hand, and vi's too. 'i believe you will do wonderfully, in both my professional and personal opinion.'

'oh. really?'

she nods. 'you haven't had a full blown episode in over a year. i see you manage your days, and your impulses. clinically, you're actually a great patient. personally, you're a pain in the ass sometimes, but not because you're unwell.'

'just because of my stunning charm and incredible sense of humor? my flair for the dramatic?'

'something like that, sure.'

you laugh. 'thank you, so so much.'

she rolls her eyes but she's still fond of you, especially in the early morning light. vi's eyes are both bruised blue, but caitlyn had told you that surgeons had finally fixed her broken nose after it broke again this time: you're pretty sure vi hasn't been able to breathe properly since she was, like, twelve. at the very least she'll snore less, so a win for all of you. 'we found a house we want to put an offer in on,' she admits.

'yeah?'

she nods. 'it's not too far from your place, and it's right on the park.'

you scoff, just for posterity. 'fancy.'

she's unfazed by this point. 'we — well, vi was going to tell you, but i know it's fine if i do. we know you and ekko want to keep your current place, and i'd actually like to sit down with both of you and see if there's any way i can assist with your rent or other budgetary items.'

you're definitely, 100% about to cry, all of a sudden.

'she is so proud of you, for even being able to consider pursuing increased independence.'

you sniffle.

'but, the brownstone we're looking at also has a fully finished basement, with a bedroom and a small living area, its own bathroom. we've planned for it to be your space, whenever you want it, for any reason, for however long you'd like to stay. a night, a year. you will always have a home with violet, which means you will always have a home with me too.'

you have to do your deep breathing: sometimes kindness, especially given freely, is what makes the world slide most off-kilter. there are always voices telling you that you don't deserve good things, that caitlyn, and vi, and ekko, and vander, and even caitlyn's parents, when you go over to their giant ass mansion for celebratory dinners or parties, are lying to you. but you put your head down against your joined hands and count to ten, whisper it aloud, and then sit back up. caitlyn is waiting patiently.

'how big is the house?'

she laughs, heartily, and pulls out her phone to show you pictures and specifications. it's beautiful — not that you'd ever expect less of caitlyn kirammen — but she also tells you the plans she has to decorate, and your chest aches with a happiness so tinged with grief when she casually explains things vi wants in each room too. it's a life you never dreamed you'd get to have, and you know vi has probably been having total menty-b's about all of this, but she deserves a home more than anyone you've ever met.

'it's fine, i guess,' you say, after caitlyn finishes showing you their plans for the patio and yard.

caitlyn laughs. 'up to your standards?'

'could use more neon.'

'keep it confined to the basement, and you've got a deal.'

'ugh.'

'the only request i have is that you not blow it up.'

you pretend to contemplate. 'that's reasonable, i guess.' you look around at all the monitors proclaiming your big sister's strong heart and lungs and brain, despite it all. 'vi's gonna be so relieved that we don't have to have a heart to heart when she wakes up.'

caitlyn looks at the still planes of vi's face adoringly. disgusting, still. 'she'll be difficult enough as it stands, i'm sure.'

'total pain in the ass.'

////

you spend the first night after vi moves out in your apartment with ekko, and you fall asleep with your head tucked into his chest, safe still, even now. that weekend, you haul a duffle bag of your stuff — clothes, toiletries, a quarter of your lab, a few cans of spray paint — to vi and caitlyn's new house. neither of them are home yet, vi stuck grumpily on desk duty for the evening and caitlyn's meeting running over.

but your key turns in the lock, and your favorite snacks are stocked in the pantry. eventually, they both get home, and they're happy to see you, and caitlyn laughs at the improvements you've already done to the walls of the basement. vi ruffles your hair and you bully both of them into ordering tacos like you want, even though they have plenty of things you could cook at home. caitlyn is polite enough to let you curl up with vi on the couch, just for tonight, and you fall asleep, safe and warm, there too.

[jakesyluslly]

sylus 𖹭 my headcanons

SFW

𖹭˙ his love language is physical touch. even when you're watching a movie with him, you can't focus because his breath tickles the back of your neck, he runs his big hands over your stomach and places soft kisses on your skin. at the end of the movie you can't understand what you're watching

𖹭˙ he does things he would never normally do because you ask him to. he let you put cute stickers on his motorcycle and helmet, he didn't even take them off. he even lets you put makeup on him (of course no one is supposed to see him) he has a soft spot for you, he can't say no to you

𖹭˙ he takes care of you like a baby. if he could, he wouldn't let you take care of anything, he would take care of everything himself. he helps you apply your nail polish, sometimes he even does your manicure because you bleed your cuticles. he kisses you after every move, he places tender kisses on your skin

𖹭˙ he never leaves you alone during your period. he can only imagine how painful your cramps are, but he does his best to make you feel better. he whispers sweet things in your ear, strokes your hair, makes you rest your head on his broad chest, caresses your stomach, his touch is gentle, kisses the top of your head, inhales the scent of your hair, makes the room smell nice, does whatever you want

𖹭˙ he enjoys preparing food for you, he makes you taste what he makes with his own hands. he puts effort into it, he looks at special recipes and thinks about them. he looks at you when you sit at the table and start eating, he tries to understand your thoughts about the food from your facial expressions. when he is sure that you like it, he just watches you during the whole meal

𖹭˙ he loves you as you are, he doesn't try to change you. he loves your childish side and your emotional side. he embraces you as you are with your scars and traumas. even if he can't take your pain away from you, he knows he can share it with you. he always shows his support for you

𖹭˙ he enjoys even the most ordinary moment with you. for him it doesn't matter where he is or what he is doing. even the simplest things become meaningful to him if you are with him. sometimes it's walking down an empty street, sometimes it's lying in bed. as long as he feels your breath on his skin, nothing else matters

𖹭˙ sometimes he wakes up before you and watches you quietly. he smiles as he looks at your peacefully sleeping face, gently brushes your hair out of your face, takes your hand and kisses you up to your wrists. he does it all slowly, without waking you. he realizes that he can look at you for hours, a smile appears on his face spontaneously

𖹭˙ you feel that he protects you even with his gaze. he envelops you with his eyes, he watches your every move carefully, he is always alert to his surroundings. in crowded places he brings you closer to him by wrapping his arm around your waist, he doesn't want anyone to touch you even accidentally

𖹭˙ you have cats that you feed together, and this is one of the moments that has meaning for him with you. you look with happiness in your eyes at the cats feeding their hungry bellies, and he looks at you. he feels himself drowning in the beauty of your heart. as you watch the cats, he approaches you from behind, hugs you and kisses your shoulder

𖹭˙ some days you both make little dates for yourselves on the balcony. he takes you in his arms and wraps you in a blanket. he makes you feel so comfortable and safe that you can behave however you want around him, you can tell him anything. he listens to you, he really listens. his eyes never leave you, from time to time he leans his head down and kisses your cheek, whispering “sorry for interrupting, it's hard to resist you. please keep going.”

𖹭˙ he spoils you, a lot. he likes to see you wearing the accessories he bought you, and that pushes him to buy you more gifts. your house is full of huge bouquets of flowers and stylish accessories for you. “i buy everything i think will look good on you. and the problem is, i haven't found anything that doesn't look good on you.” he says when you say you don't need more gifts

[thezombieprostitute]

My Sun

A/N: Written for @the-slumberparty's December Daze Challenge.

Prompt: it's too cold, stay in bed.

A/N2: Reader is female. No other physical descriptors used.

Warnings: Smut. Please let me know if I missed any!

Winter was well known as a time for more sleep. Unfortunately, as a King, Harald was not allowed to sleep. There was always work to be done. While his people had plenty to eat during the warmer months, they often looked to him to make sure they would have plenty to eat during the harsher months. There was also the upcoming solstice celebrations to prepare for.

He sighs, resigned to the work he has ahead of him, and moves to leave from under the furs. He don't get very far as your arm has a tight hold on him around his middle. He tries a few times to gently remove your arm without waking you but each time it doesn't work.

He feels you chuckling against his back. "Why are you trying to escape me, my King?"

"I would never leave you by choice, my Queen," he admonishes. "But there is work to be done."

"It's too cold," you gripe. "Stay in bed with me."

"You are a temptress," he jokingly complains as he turns underneath the furs to face you.

"And you are warm," you purr against his chest, making him chuckle.

"If I am warm, it is because of you. You are my sun." He kisses the top of your head. "My warmth," another kiss, this time on your forehead. "My light," another kiss, this time on your nose. "My comfort in the cold of the world," he proclaims before kissing your lips.

"Then why would you leave our warm bed? Stay with me," you plead.

His hand trails down your front, reaching your mound. He feels how wet you are and grins, "I think my Queen needs some attention." You moan into his ear, confirming his assertion.

"What kind of king would you be if even your queen is left wanting?" you tease.

"Then I shall have to see to your every need that none can say I am lax in my duty," he smiles.

He gently pushes one of his large fingers into you, making you gasp. "You're so wet already, my love. Makes me wonder what kinds of dreams you were having."

"I dreamt of you, my husband," you confess. "Dreamt of our first time together and how insatiable we both were."

"Mmm, we were both so fiery," he remembers. He removes his finger, making you whine, and rolls so that he's on top of you. "But while age may have tempered things, I promise, me fervor for you will never fade."

You feel the truth of his words in both the hardness you feel against your legs and in the passion with which he looks at you. Rather than telling him this, though, you meet his ardor with your own. Wrapping your arms around his head you bring his lips to yours while opening your legs for him. He welcomes your passion by groaning and kissing you in return as he lines himself up with your pussy.

"You're so wet already," he grunts, "I believe I could just fill you in one thrust."

You moan at the idea, encouraging him. He thrusts into you and you gasp in delight, wrapping your legs around him. When you start to kiss his tattooed shoulders he takes that as his signal to start moving, making you both groan appreciatively.

"So warm for me," he grunts. "My love is always ready for me to take her. Always ready to warm me during these cold months."

He hits a spot inside you that has you frantically asking him for more. He increases his pace and you arch your back in pleasure. He alternates between kissing and sucking on your nipples and your moans and whines become needier.

"How could I not love a woman such as yourself?' he continues lavishing you with praise. "So strong yet so soft for me. The most intelligent person in any room you walk into. A spirit as fiery as the sun itself." He groans as you squeeze around his cock. "All of that and you agreed to be mine. I am the luckiest man who as ever walked this world."

Between his words, his kisses, and knowing exactly what spots to hit, your quick to reach your climax. He follows only after he's certain you're satisfied. Both of you exchange gentle kisses, caresses, sweet nothings.

After a few minutes Harald grumbles, "I should get to work now."

"That would be ill advised, husband," you smirk. "You're covered in sweat. Should you leave the comfort of the bed now, you will feel even colder and fall sick."

"You are truly devious, my love," he teases. "Like the sun in winter, so bright but withholding your warmth. How am I to leave your arms now?"

"Not all the blame is mine," you counter. "If you'd truly wanted to get to work, you would have."

He sighs, "you speak truly. But what man in his right mind would ever leave your side? I am only human."

"No, you're no mere human" you smile. "You're my husband, my love, my king."

"And I'll stay in your arms as long as you'll have me."

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly;

[canongf]

thinking about bucky’s softer middle in the trailer aka the tummy he has because we are married and he is happier and healthier and i’ve been feeding him

[langernameohnebedeutung]

not blaming Lowell as a character but I think his arrival in the show & his popularity as a character is part of the reason why Flight Of The Living Dead is not remembered as one of Liv's most bi-est episodes.

[barnbridges]

the thing is that bunny's weight, laziness, bad humor probably all can be tied to that he's in a comfortable relationship with someone that keeps him down the respectability line.

[secondpersonpoetry]

hi! heard the released “Merry Christmas, Please Don’t Call” (which i’ve seen you’ve heard live, if i’m not mistaken!!) this morning and i don’t know if there’s really a particular vibe/dynamic/ship hrpf-wise (personally haven’t yet been able to put my finger on it) that quite relates but the lyrics have been rotating in my head all day and i was wondering if you had any thoughts? hope you have a good one! <3

OH ANON HAVE I EVER SEEN IT LIVE!!! and the second that song came out i zoomed it straight into my fic playlist and unfortunately there are so many guys this could be. right now the one that's resonating is, of course, the golden boy and his haunted ghost themselves: mcstrome.

i am thinking about connor, specifically, after the stanley cup final. that game seven. how angry he was, how loud the silence when they told him he won the conn smythe. how close he's come before and again and again lost. there's nobody else to blame but himself. he's in the empty room and he knows why (1)

at!! your best!!! you were magic!!! oh, golden boy. connor the anointed, of course. at the very beginning of his career we always knew he was something special and who wouldn't have fallen in love with him? weren't all of us a little bit dylan strome in awe of the generational talent? we were all bathed in radiant light just by being in the vicinity (2)

don't even tell 'em that you know me breaks my heart (3). in terms of building a narrative i think i've said before there is a universe where connor/dylan were together before the draft and to protect both of them, dylan breaks up with him. connor says i love you and dylan says i don't. because he doesn't, you know? he loved connor. he loved davo. he can't be in love with connor mcdavid, first overall pick of the edmonton oilers. i'd rather be hurt forever than have to watch us try to make this work and destroy us.

and after connor mcdavid left the otters, dylan strome captained them to a memorial cup win. what a haunted home, eh? to be captain of the team you and your best friend were on, only now he's left you? don't call me to tell me about your rookie season with the oilers--we both know about your broken collarbone. don't call me to tell about becoming the youngest captain in franchise history when i stepped into the shoes of your captaincy here. don't call me. (4)

narratively: dylan's the one who broke connor's heart and his own but by god it wasn't easy. we both know what happened, you went first overall. please don't make this harder on me. please don't call.

this verse can be about the weight of dylan having to live up to connor's standards and always being measured by him. i would just like to bring up the connor stepping stone chart for absolutely no reason as well (5)

we are, at long last, at the potential future of now: dylan strome, happy, smiling, thriving on the washington capitals. connor, on the oilers. i'm not yours, dylan can say. haven't been for a long time. it took some time but i made this. please don't call and ruin this for me, stay out of my life. i don't want you or need you (6)

[p.s. this took a while because when i received this ask i was a) immediately possessed to write this verse by verse breakdown i had never thought of before and then b) immediately plagued by the idea of making you a little graphic (above the read more) and finally got to do it after banging out all the actual lyric thoughts two (?) weeks ago. emerging two and a half hours later from the fugue state of GIMP with 37 layers in this bad boy hope you enjoy!!!]

[dilfdicks]

★ thinking about how moving in with sex addict satoru is simultaneously the best and worst decision you've ever made in your life.

because on one hand you get to spend the quiet parts of life with the man you love. you get to share space with him in a domestic setting, fall asleep with him at night only to wake up to him in the morning. you get good sex as often as you want it, take-out nights and tv marathons that aren't on the table when you don't live together.

but on the other hand, even the simplest of things has satoru bending you over the nearest surface and sinking deep into you. of course when you moved in, he made you cum in every room of the house as a way of christening it—but you didn't expect him to then insist on making you cum on every surface the house has to offer.

you can't buy new furniture without satoru laying you back on top of it and eating you out for an hour minimum.

you can't make dinner without ending up with your face pressed against the countertop as you're split open by his cock.

you have to give up on keeping the bed made, as you never make it more than a few hours before he's throwing you on top of it to fuck you stupid and ruin the fold of the sheets.

you can't shower without his fingers plunging into you under the scalding water.

you can't sit down without satoru insisting his lap is much more comfortable—why not cockwarm him while you're at it?

oh and you think you get a moment of reprieve when he goes away for missions? nope—because after so long of 24/7 access to the best dick you've ever had, you find when he's gone that your fingers just aren't long and learned like his are. your toys don't bite at your neck with each thrust. you can't cuff yourself to the bed. you can't cum without him.

and suddenly you have to come to terms with the fact that you too, are addicted to satoru gojos cock.

[webism]

pornstar!toji who is known for being easy with his scenes. he's there for a good fuck and an even better paycheck: it doesn't matter who, or where, or how... if he's being paid he will do it. he doesn't mind getting nasty, and so he's often booked for more exotic scenes. he fucks good, and he fucks a lot.

pornstar!toji who is strapped for cash one week after an unfortunate loss on the horses, and takes the first scene offered to him. a vanilla fuck with a new-to-the-scene pornstar with potential... at least that's what his agent, shiu, tells him. he's confused on what potential he's hinting at until he rocks up ten minutes late to the shoot and lays eyes on you, already naked and on the stage bed. you have a look to you that makes a man like toji feel obliged to drop to his knees.

pornstar!toji who is already harder than he has been in a long time when shiu clarifies that when he called you 'new to the scene' he meant it: this is your first porn shoot. and though you're not a virgin, toji has the honour of taking your first time on camera... and god does he love the thought.

pornstar!toji who is greeted with a small smile and a soft 'hello' from you, shy beneath his gaze as if you aren't naked and soon to be stuffed full of his cock. he watches your eyes shift, from his piercing eyes to his beautifully scarred lip to the gorgeous tone of his body, all the way down to his awfully large cock. he can tell you're nervous, worried about taking all of him on film.

pornstar!toji who isnt good with gentle comforts, but still wants you to feel at ease with him. so, despite his instructions for a simple fuck scene, toji attacks you with deep kisses first, gets you used to the burning heat of his body against yours. and when you're melted enough against his skin he trails down and eats you out for a long twenty minutes. production would try and stop him, but he's already tipsy on your taste and the moans leaving your lips are, frankly, made for porn.

pornstar!toji who revels in the way your back arches off the mattress—he'd accuse you of putting on a show for the cameras if your hips weren't bucking up against his face in an almost primal need. he can taste it on you, the genuine lust, the way you drip wet on his tongue and still grab at his hair for more. and when he gives you more—when he finally slips his cock into you—he can't help himself from groaning out something needy. he's the silent type, letting his costar take center stage, but god can he not keep quiet feeling your walls wrapped around him.

pornstar!toji who has never had an issue with porn before, but with your legs wrapped around his waist, your eyes locked onto his as he pumps in and out of you with white hot need, he finds he hates the thought of anyone else seeing you like this. he's not a possessive man, he shouldn't feel this way, but he does. even the watchful stares of the cameramen piss him off, and he finds his hips moving faster and his cock nestling deeper inside of you just to show them that he's the one pleasing you.

pornstar!toji who can't help but kiss you as you both cum in unison. he ruins the shot, the cameras cant see your orgasm face when he's swallowing your moans like they're sweet wine. he's surprised his pay doesn't get cut for it.

when pornstar!toji does get paid, it's the first cheque in a very long time that he doesn't blow the same night it comes through. because he doesn't have time to go out and waste his money: he's at home fucking his fist to the film you made together and mentally degrading himself for being so pussy whipped. he strokes himself in time with his own thrusts in the video, and tries so desperately to recall your taste on his tongue, but its fruitless. he's agitated and sexually frustrated and keeps reloading your personal pages to see if you've filmed with anyone since him.

pornstar!toji who becomes so lost in his own mind that he starts turning down shoots with other actors—shoots with good pay. he's done everything under the sun, done all the hardcore porn and weird fetish content but now that he's gotten a fresh taste of plain passion sex with you, he can't stomach anything else. he'd say your name, he knows it—and it doesn't help that he hasn't been able to reach orgasm for a week without thinking of you.

pornstar!toji who, after three weeks of pure misery, decides to make a move. he doesn't do dates or romantic nights on the town. he doesn't do flowers or sweet nothings or eye contact even, but he finds himself contacting shiu and threatening the poor man in hopes of your real name, your address, anything.

and you, late one evening fucking yourself on your fingers to the brink of frustrated tears because they're not his cock. even more disgruntled when theres a pounding knock at your front door, and after cleaning yourself up a little you swing it open to find pornstar!toji stood in the rain outside. and you can only take him in—his heavy build and desperate eyes—before he's crashing his lips against yours, walking you into your own home and kicking the door shut behind him.