#before talking me out of my thoughts; his reminders a reassurance

[clairewritesfanfics]

Hear me out . Invincible variants with a powerfull (scarlet watch powers maybe ?) reader that's just pure chaotic evil like am talking world destroying unhinged .

She doesn't care about anything other than getting pure entertainment from the suffering of others . She doesn't care about conquering world or managing the viltrumite empire . Just wanna be out there causing as much chaos as physically and mentally possible for her .

I just know some of the variants would love to have a woman like her on their side .Well some of the others would try and do anything possible to try and tame her .

TRIGGER WARNINGS: torture, murder, violence, mild gore, mild swearing

Inside a dingy little cell in an abandoned asylum, Samantha Eve Wilkins was forced to stand by the chains on her wrists, digging into the flesh of her arms as they kept her upright. This room was empty except for her and the pulley contraption keeping her in place. There were no guards, no special machine or cameras to monitor her. The door wasn’t even locked. It was her captors’ unique way of reminding her that she was no threat. She wasn’t worth jack shit. 

She couldn’t remember how long they’ve been keeping her here. There was no clock or window, and she found herself fading in and out of consciousness far too often to rely on her circadian rhythm to tell the time. Her meals weren’t regular either, sometimes a random person would walk in and force a disgusting broth down her throat, leave for what, thirty, maybe forty minutes, then come back; other times she was left without anything to eat for so long she passed out standing. 

She thought back to where it all started, or better yet, back to who started it all–

You weren’t like anything Earth has seen before. You arrived one day and just started destroying everything. Immortal and the other veteran heroes came to stop you, but it was embarrassing how they couldn’t even land a single blow. When Immortal sought diplomacy in an act of desperation, you snapped your fingers and he was just…gone. The GDA threw everything they could, but you made quick work of them too, throwing their quantum bombs back at them and smiling faintly the entire time.

Eve and the Resistance she formed spent a year formulating a plan to defeat you. But one day, one hot and humid day, while her team stood around their makeshift war room, you appeared out of nowhere. She remembered how stiff her bones became at the mere sight of you. You were smiling at them like a child who poured water on ant hills to see “what would happen.”

“I’m not here to kill you,” you kindly reassured them, tracing a finger on one of their blueprints. “But here’s a tip: my real bedroom is on the fifth floor, not the third.” 

When it was time to finally attack, you gave them a look of disappointment. “Is this it?” 

Eve gave everything she had until the day you killed her. When her powers brought her back to life she woke up here.

“It’s truly disappointing,” your voice interrupted her train of thoughts. She didn’t even notice you coming in.

And you were here with him. Your alleged “bodyguard.” You didn’t actually need anyone protecting you, but this man followed you around and slaughtered anyone that even glanced at you the wrong way.

His eyes weren’t on her but on you. He was always looking at you. It disgusted Eve how much affection his gaze carried, like you hung the moon and stars.

You clicked your tongue. “You had the ability to manipulate matter on a sub-atomic scale and you used it for what, flying? Making pink shields? I thought I found someone who could entertain me for a while longer, but I haven’t even done much and you’re already this hopeless.” You sighed dramatically. “I guess I’m cursed to be alone.” 

The man put a hand over your shoulder and you gave him a smile–a true smile–and patted his cheek. “I’m joking, sweetie.”

Eve found her voice and snidely remarked, “You really are a match made in Hell.”

Like two meerkats, you and your lover glanced at her at the same time. He seemed displeased. But you just laughed and walked over to her. “I do like the sound of that.” You waved your hand and her head exploded. Her blood stopped before it could touch you, they remained suspended in the air like deep red marbles.

“What if she comes back?” He asked. “You killed her over a thousand times before and she recovered every time.”

“Your analytical skills require work, Mark.” The blood marbles lost their shape as they finally fell with gravity. “Think back to all those times I tortured her, I always left her with a partially intact skull at least.”

You raised your knee and then stomped down hard on the gray and white matter scattered in the blood. “But even she can’t come back without a brain.”

The truest definition of a match made in Hell. If there is such a thing as soulmates then you two are proof of that. Designing a species-specific zombie virus? Leave the spreading to him! Death games that force superheroes to kill each other? He’ll be the best enforcer ever! Stealing someone else’s dog? He has your back! He has ripped children out of their mothers’ bellies for your “experiments,” made millions kneel to your name, ravaged planets by your side–there are few lines he will not cross for you. 

NO GOGGLES, head cap, mohawk, shiesty, sinister

He doesn’t understand your obsession. He wished he could get it, that he could let go of his humanity and allow you to fill the void it leaves, but it’s not that easy to change. Even with everything he’s suffered, he still finds himself hoping, yearning for a better and peaceful world where you two can be happy. But he hides that hope, snuffing it almost as much as you do. If being a monster is what it takes to have you in his life then he will throw away everything. 

FULL MASK, maskless, prisoner 

He’s much more stringent than the others. There are limits to how many cities you can level and who you are allowed to hurt. The people who get sucked into your madness beg him for help thinking he’s a hero, but the truth is that he simply does not derive pleasure from torture. He doesn’t join in on your “fun,” usually he’s just there, watching over you. He keeps a loose leash, not because he cares about the lives of mere ants, but because even he knows the folly in being a king without a kingdom. 

FLAXAN, omni-mark, viltrumite, target

a/n: I kept humming the chorus to Evil Love while I wrote this lololol

MASTERLIST | request rules | ask box

image lifted from: https://gamerant.com/invincible-all-alternate-dimension-invincibles-fates/

[mblue-art]

BAD SANSUARY // [21] comfort for owl-bones's event !

comforting my anxious ass in his own way (starting with an affectionate head flick)

edit: adding this screenshot as reference- it's from a yt video; like i said in the tags, i checked multiple sources to make sure i got it right. but still, feel free to correct me if i'm still wrong 🙏

[onceinablueberrymoon]

intentionally by chance | husband!salesman x pregnant!reader

part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | series masterlist scenario: a month after seeing the salesman on his way to the airport, gi-hun returns to that subway station every day, hoping to find the salesman and confront him. this is where you come in. setting: takes place after the events of season 1, but before gi-hun hires the loan shark group to search for the salesman warnings: deception; pregnant!reader; no use of y/n; second person POV word count: 1.3k notes: salesman fluff! ♡ this guy’s been plaguing my thoughts for weeks now, so i had to write about him. my first fic in years! i like to think that S1 salesman is more chill than in S2. please enjoy! borders by @strangergraphics-archive

“Excuse me… Can you please help me?”

The red-haired man, who was perusing the endless options of cup ramyeon, turned in your direction, but remained planted a few feet away from you. 

“Me?” He pointed at himself.

You nodded, adjusting the items you were holding in your arms. “Can you grab me that cup of ramyeon from the shelf? I’d get it, but my hands are full…” 

The man walked over and retrieved your cup of ramyeon. As he handed it to you, he noticed your pronounced bump under your sweater and furrowed his eyebrows. 

“Miss, you’re in no condition to be carrying so much. Please, let me help you bring it to the checkout.”

With your approval, he unloaded the rest of your snacks into his arms. The two of you walked to the register, where you insisted on paying for his own cup of ramyeon. You suggested eating the ramyeon at one of the tables outside the subway station’s convenience store, but he insisted on sitting on a bench on the subway platform. 

“Is there a particular reason you wanted to eat here? It’s not the most ideal dining spot…” You slurped your noodles happily. The man ate slowly, popping his head up every so often and eyeing his surroundings carefully. 

“I’m… looking for something. Nothing you should worry yourself with,” he continued to eat his food while you gave him a skeptical look.

“Perhaps I could help? Well, as long as I don’t have to move very much,” you chuckled, patting your stomach. He gave you a soft smile before changing the topic. 

“Shouldn’t your husband be buying you food instead of you coming to get it yourself?” He gestured to your bag of snacks, and you giggled.

“My husband buys me all the food I want, but sometimes I just want to get out of the house! It’s no fun being cooped up all day,” you sighed. The man nodded in understanding. 

“It’s also nice to talk to other people, like you,” you smiled at him. He returned your smile, but then his eyebrows shot up when a sharp smack echoed throughout the platform. 

The man jumped up, his cup ramyeon forgotten on the bench. You turned to see where the noise had come from, only to find a group of students huddled around another student who had dropped their textbooks on the ground. From what you could hear, it seemed like they were holding them for a friend but couldn’t handle the weight.

The red-haired man froze for a few seconds, then sat back down, heaving a big sigh. 

“Are you alright, sir? There’s nothing to worry about – it was just some books that fell.” You tried to comfort the man in some way, but he brushed the incident off. 

“I’m fine. It just… reminded me of something,” he tried his best to give you a reassuring smile, but it didn’t convince you. “Don’t worry about me. Please eat,” he gestured to your unfinished ramyeon, “you need strength for your baby.”

The rest of your time together was pleasant, but you were still not convinced that the man’s reaction was nothing. You both finished your noodles, disposing the packaging and your utensils before parting ways. 

Once you returned home, you put the remaining snacks away and settled on the sofa. There were still a few hours before your husband was due home. You got yourself comfortable, curled up under a blanket, and drifted off to sleep.

“Rough day?”

You cracked open your eyes. All you could see was a blurry grey shape, but you already knew who it was. 

Blinking your eyes a few times, your husband’s handsome face came into focus, with his usually crisp grey suit looking a bit creased. His usual smirk graced his face as he looked down at you on the sofa.

“I should be asking you that. What happened to your suit?” You sat up and he sat down next to you, leaning his head on your shoulder.

“One prospective player became violent when he lost at ddakji for the 20th time in a row. Of course, I was able to subdue him, but it took more effort than usual,” your husband tried to press down a crease on his sleeve, but to no avail. He rested a hand on your rounded belly, gently rubbing circles with his fingers.

“How was today? I trust you succeeded in your mission?” 

You scoffed, “He was exactly where you said he’d be. I was able to have a conversation with him. We even ate ramyeon together for lunch!” 

Your husband turned to face you, an eyebrow raised. “You ate ramyeon together?” He gave a small pout, “I thought I was the only one you ate ramyeon with.”

Immediately, your face flustered as you explained yourself, “Hey, you know that I would never cheat!” Then, you scoffed, “We ate cup ramyeon, alright? Not whatever fantasy you’re imagining in that head of yours.” He laughed, pecking you on the cheek.

“Oh, but I have some exciting news,” you said with a sparkle in your eyes. “He’s still looking for you. And he’s basically gone mad trying to find you.” This caught your husband’s attention.

“While we were eating, there was a loud noise. Turned out that a kid dropped their books. But Gi-hun didn’t know that. He shot up so fast I swear I thought he was possessed!” 

Your husband seemed to take in your findings carefully, continuing his circles on your bump as if they helped him focus. 

“He wouldn’t tell me what he was looking for, but he specifically wanted us to sit on the subway platform, so I think it’s safe to say he’s searching for you.” Your husband had previously informed you that he had spotted a player he had already recruited at the Incheon Airport subway station, albeit with flaming red hair. After talking with the Frontman, he confirmed that Seong Gi-hun was indeed the winner of the 33rd edition of the Games. 

Once you shared the rest of your intel with your husband, you let out a big sigh. 

“Should I meet with Gi-hun again? It’d be useful to know his location and I could maybe gather more info,” you looked at your husband who had since sat up, but he didn’t take his hand off your bump. 

He pondered your question for a moment. “While I would benefit from knowing his whereabouts, I’m more afraid of something happening to you,” his voice sounded strained. “I wouldn’t be there to protect you and our child.” 

You leaned onto his shoulder, resting a hand on top of his on your belly. “We’ll be fine. If anything, Gi-hun was also concerned for me because of the baby,” you winked. “Maybe they’re the key to earning his trust.” 

Your husband’s lips tightened into a straight line. While he wasn’t happy that you would spend time with someone who clearly despised him, you were right — your pregnancy would lower Gi-hun’s defenses. You knew how much your husband’s schedule was impacted by Gi-hun’s constant presence on the AREX subway line. It would greatly help your husband if you could keep Gi-hun at one station while he recruited prospective players for the Games. 

Your husband kissed the crown of your head and stood up, attempting once again to smooth out the crease on his sleeve. “We’ll see. I’ll talk to the Frontman to see if we can get you any additional protection. I still don’t like the idea of you being around Gi-hun alone. If he learns of our relationship, I imagine he will use you as ransom,” he clicks his tongue, “We can’t have that now, can we?” 

You shook your head and stood up next to your husband. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. 

“For now, continue researching prospective players. I’m almost done with your last batch,” he flashed his signature smirk, which you returned with a soft smile of your own.

“On it. Rumour has it that Tapgol Park has an abundance of people down on their luck…”

[witchcraftandgeekness]

Things we (me) are forgetting about Six of crows, not in order:

• There were rumours that Wylan was caught in an affair with his tutor

• Inej killed rinca moten (the desert lizard) that Matthias claimed he never seen being defeated before. She did it in few seconds too

• Jesper and Nina had chloropellets that they used to put other prisoners to sleep stitched under their skin. And had to cut them out to use them

• Matthias had a buzzcut for whole two books and half; also, half of SoC he had brown hair and brown eyes tailored

• Kaz had lockpicks and bloody explosives swallowed for the entirety of heist, and had to regurgitate them every other hour

• When Nina was young, she wanted to go to Fjerda as an avenging warrior or a spy (foreshadowing, I guess)

• Inej used Kaz's gloves to climb in the incenerator scene

• After learning Inej's real name, Kaz asked if that's what she preferred to be called

•Kaz's pov has shown that he probably had fracture or other injury from when he jumped while carrying Inej in his arms, and it was never mentioned him getting any medical attention. My boy been running this heist like this, AND without his cane for hours

• They blew up the nation's holy magical tree (somehow I keep forgetting this part)

• Matthias gave Kaz an agressive CPR until Nina took over. So his heart probably stopped during heist? (Somebody just give him a vacation or something)

•Nina flirts/ed with Kaz (as he had mentioned himself, she just loves flirting with everybody and everything)

•Inej seems to be the ONLY one in the Dregs without their tattoo

•Matthias labeled Inej as a demon in his head as well, not only Kaz

•Matthias' middle name is Benedik. I think only his and Jesper's second names were revealed (very likely that they are the only ones who have them)

•Kaz gave Matthias the "you wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me" talk (like, literally)

•“You can’t spend his money if you’re dead.”

“I’ll acquire expensive habits in the afterlife.”

•Inej thought that Kaz "at least owes me his best imitation of a human being".

•Wylan was standing up to Kaz several times, even at times when others wouldn't (like right after the Oomen incident)

•Matthias has the coolest nicknames for everybody in general

•Kaz kinda thinks more of Inej than others do? Has more faith in her and how strong she is, if you will

•Kaz went back for the Black Tips after Inej was injured and "there was enough blood to paint a barn red" (reminder that he still has a fracture after running with her in his hands and jumping off great heightswhile carrying her)

•Tolya was mentioned in SoC ("There’s a Heartrender at the Little Palace who can recite epic poetry for hours. Then you’d wish you had died.”)

•Matthias thanked Inej personally for being the reason they made it out of the harbor alive (that's right, everybody must respect Inej)

•Kaz wants reassurance that Inej believes in him once in a while

•Everybody feels kinda good about sharing secrets with Kaz cuz he's Dirtyhands and he wouldn't judge anything

•Kaz and Inej have a series of silent signals?

•Kaz said "You don't want a look at what's inside my head, Nina dear" while wearing fucking dumb goggles

•Inej is the only sacred thing in Kaz's life, and she made him feel like a boy still believing in existence of magic

[snail-day]

This is Love, Right?

Part two of Can My Friend Join?

Next part: It's all your fault, isn't it?

Yan!SatoSugu x Reader

Sum: You're starting to grow used to Suguru, maybe evening learning to accept his love.

TW: Yandere Behaviors (Cameras, Obsession, Manipulation, trapping), Really toxic relationship, dubcon, oral (F and M receiving), Brief smut, Reader is going through it. SatoSugu (Just a warning in itself), Angst

WC: 4.7k

A/n: Listened to a random Mitski playlist and it lowkey made me depressed while writing this, expect some fluff after this one.

This is love.

You keep telling yourself that, don’t you?

Even as silent tears streak down your cheeks in the furthest bathroom—the one tucked away from the master bedroom, the one even Satoru’s Six Eyes can’t reach.

This is love.

The way Satoru leans down, his snowy white hair falling across his forehead in that effortlessly tousled way, pressing a fleeting kiss to your lips before heading out on a mission. His crystalline blue eyes, so striking they feel otherworldly, linger on you for a moment too long before he straightens up, a lopsided grin pulling at his lips. Suguru follows, his dark hair tied neatly back, though loose strands frame his sharp, beautiful face. He gives you a casual wave, the corners of his mouth lifting into a faint, teasing smile as he murmurs, “I love you.”

You’ve never seen Satoru happier than he’s been since Suguru joined your relationship. Happier than back when it was just the two of you, curled up on the couch, his long legs stretched across the cushions while you laughed at some cheesy anime. Back then, his laugh was unrestrained, carefree. The way his shoulders would shake, his hand coming up to push his blindfold up and wipe away a tear—it felt real.

You miss those days.

You didn’t cry as much back then.

But they love you, don’t they?

They still pay your tuition, still ensure your life is cushioned and cared for. Suguru, always measured and composed, suggested once, “Maybe you should switch to online classes.” His voice was soft, his tone coaxing. It made sense, didn’t it? His reasoning was sound: “There was a special grade curse at the school the other day. We just worry about you, baby.”

Suguru always seems so calm, his velvety voice soothing and warm yet guarded dark eyes giving him an air of quiet authority. You begin to find comfort in that. However, the weight of his presence feels heavy, suffocating even some days.

Satoru, on the other hand, radiates energy. His presence fills the room like sunlight—blinding, inescapable. His tall, lanky frame always seems so relaxed, but you know better. Behind the teasing lilt of his voice and his constant grin lies a man who rarely lets his guard down. The way he looms, leaning just a little too close, reminds you of the distance he refuses to let exist between the two of you.

They worry about you so much. Yet whenever you voice concern for them, they hush you. Suguru’s deep voice reassures you, as if he’s talking to a child, while Satoru’s lips curl into a too-bright smile, his hand patting your head like you’re something fragile.

They love you. They take care of you. It would be selfish to leave them, wouldn’t it?

And Satoru—he’s never been this happy.

He’s working less, smiling more. Suguru’s return has lifted a weight off his shoulders. He’s not carrying the burden of being the strongest alone anymore. You can see it in the way his smile softens when Suguru speaks, in the way his gaze lingers on him longer than it ever lingers on you.

And yet, you tell yourself:

This is love.

Still, you wonder… wasn’t Suguru supposed to be going to therapy? You think back to his promises—vague, half-hearted reassurances—but did he ever actually leave for a session? Ever join a voice call?

You don’t recall.

You try to push the thought away, like so many others. Ignore the red flags. Focus on the green.

The relationship has its moments. You’re growing used to Suguru.

Especially your drunk self—the one that gravitates toward him, curling up on his lap like a loyal dog, seeking out his touch and the warmth of his arms. He always accepts you, his large hands stroking your back or brushing through your hair with a tenderness that feels almost too loving, almost cruel. You wonder what side of yourself that is, the part that craves his affection so desperately, the part that lets the lines blur between love and dependency.

You might even say you’re learning to love him—or at least the version of him that exists in the quiet of the night. The version that pulls you close under the weight of darkness, his voice low and unguarded as he whispers, “I love you.”

It’s in those moments that he feels human, almost fragile. A man with calloused hands and a broken heart trying to mend himself through you.

And it’s hard not to wonder—are you really learning to love him, or are you simply surrendering to the inevitability of it all?

Satoru, though… he never used to cuddle at night. Even before Suguru entered the picture, he always sprawled out in his ridiculously expensive sheets, claiming restlessness from the constant hum of his cursed energy. He needed the space, he said, and you told yourself he deserved it.

Suguru, however—Suguru surprised you.

At first glance, he didn’t seem the type for soft affections, but you quickly learned otherwise. Every night, his arms would find their way around you, wrapping you in a firm but gentle embrace. His warmth seeped into you, grounding and comforting, as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck. His lips would brush your skin with soft kisses, a tenderness you hadn’t expected from him.

Sometimes, his deep voice would murmur, “Sorry we came home so late,” heavy with sincerity. Other times, his words were more vulnerable, whispered just above a breath: “I love you,” spoken in the dark when he thought you were asleep.

It’s hard not to love him in those moments. Hard not to feel your resolve slip as his presence surrounds you. His breath fans against your neck, steady and warm. His rhythmic breathing eventually syncs with yours, as if his body is learning the cadence of your every inhale and exhale.

For those fleeting moments, you almost forget the cracks beneath the surface.

Other good moments were the intimate ones, the kind that left no room for doubt about how thoroughly they possessed you.

Suguru’s lips would meet yours in slow, deliberate kisses, his touch soft and coaxing, as Satoru’s tongue worked between your legs. The wet, obscene sounds filled the room, clouding your vision and overwhelming your senses. Satoru’s tongue moved with precision, his mouth relentless as he lapped at your cunt, delving deep until your mind felt as hazy as your breathless moans.

Suguru’s fingers never faltered, rubbing tight circles around your clit in perfect rhythm with Satoru’s ministrations. Their combined efforts dragged you over the edge again and again, your body trembling and giving in to the relentless waves of pleasure.

It became impossible to think of anything else—impossible to care about anything other than the bliss they brought you. Their hardened cocks stretched you beyond your limits, filling you completely, their stamina nearly too much for your quivering form.

Suguru would cradle your face in his hands, his dark eyes soft yet intense as he cooed sweet nothings. He’d murmur praises, soothing and possessive, as Satoru pressed the tip of his cock into your overstimulated, leaking cunt. The stretch made you gasp—a sound Suguru captured with his lips, his kiss slow, methodical, leaving you no room to shy away.

Satoru’s hands gripped your hips harshly, his long fingers digging into your flesh, ensuring you stayed exactly where he wanted you. You could already tell the marks would bloom into bruises by morning, a physical reminder of their claim. Suguru, ever attentive, would turn your face gently toward the camera, his voice a low murmur against your lips. “You’re such a good girl,” he’d praise, his thumb brushing your cheek before pulling you into another kiss.

When they were finally spent, when your body gave out completely, Suguru always carried you to the bath. His embrace was steady, grounding, as the warm water soothed your trembling form. You’d lean against his chest, your body limp, lulled by the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing.

Sometimes, Satoru would join, his tall frame slipping into the water beside you. Their voices would soften as they spoke over you, discussing mundane things or recounting their mission. Occasionally, a kiss would press against your temple—a fleeting gesture, tender and claiming all at once—as you drifted in and out of sleep.

For a little while, it felt like you belonged.

And then, when he thinks you’re asleep, Satoru murmurs, “I knew you’d come around.”

You’re never sure who he’s talking to—Suguru, the man who swore to eradicate non-sorcerers? Or you, the girl who’s finally learning to love the monster who holds her at night?

It’s in these moments that you find yourself slipping out of bed, mumbling an excuse to use the bathroom. Suguru always lets you go with a teasing “Come back fast, or I’ll come get you.” You never linger long enough to see if he’s joking.

Once inside the furthest bathroom, the one that feels like your only sanctuary, you clutch the edge of the sink and sob. Quietly, so no one hears. Until your knees give out and you’re on the floor, shaking and clutching yourself.

This is love. Right?

They loved you. So why were you crying in the bathroom?

Why did each love bite feel like a brand, etched into your skin with every lingering gaze in the mirror? Why did their cum, warm as it seeped down your thighs, burn like it was searing itself into you, a mark you couldn’t erase? Why did the blank, soulless stare of the camera lens feel like an accusation, making you flinch away from any piece of technology?

Before too long, you would wipe your tears, force a smile to your lips—steadying it just enough so it wouldn’t wobble—and return to Suguru’s waiting arms. His hum would vibrate against your back as his dark hair tickled your neck. He’d cradle you close, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

“Goodnight, baby,” he’d murmur, and you’d close your eyes, pretending his embrace felt like comfort instead of confinement.

But mornings brought their own discomforts.

You found yourself rifling through the master bathroom, searching the countertop with rising panic. Where is it? The nagging thought ate at you.

Satoru, brushing his teeth beside you, glanced over with those striking blue eyes. His tone was soft, almost too casual. “What’s up, baby?”

“I can’t find my birth control,” you admitted, the words trembling as much as your hands.

“Did you misplace it? You’ve been doing that a lot lately.” He walked over, his long arms wrapping around your waist. A kiss brushed the top of your head, his voice gentle but firm. “Go ask Sugu. He’s the one who organizes everything.”

So you did. Suguru was at the desk in the living room, working through a report. From over his shoulder, you could see the numbers—charge rates, payments for missions—enough to know your schooling costs barely amounted to a fraction of what they earned in a single week.

“Your birth control?” he repeated absentmindedly, his tone light, almost dismissive. “You’ve been misplacing that a lot, haven’t you, baby?”

His words felt condescending, like you were a child searching for a lost toy.

“Where is it?” you asked, voice still soft but with a growing edge of desperation. You were five minutes late—exactly.

“Ah-ah, no need for that tone, baby,” he chided, his eyes still glued to his paperwork. “Check the kitchen counter. Your purse? Maybe your school bag.”

It took thirty agonizing minutes of searching, panic simmering under your skin, before you found it—perched on top of the fridge.

You stared at it for a moment, unmoving. You would have never put it there.

Suguru’s behavior had become harder to ignore. There were moments when his touch lingered, his eyes softened, and his voice carried a wistful tone. He had baby fever—you could tell. Maybe it was tied to the twins he lost.

You’d asked him about them once. His face shuttered, dark and unreadable, and he didn’t respond.

You tried asking Satoru, but he had simply glanced away, his usual bravado vanishing for a moment too long.

You decided not to ask again.

Some questions weren’t meant to be answered. You had a sinking feeling the truth lay buried somewhere with the higher-ups, in a place you weren’t allowed to tread.

Suguru’s baby fever didn’t fade, no matter how much you tried to ignore it.

When the three of you went to the store, you’d catch that soft smile tugging at his lips whenever he saw a child. It wasn’t the type of smile he gave just anyone—it was warm, tender, hopeful. And it was always followed by a kiss pressed to your temple. A gesture you used to pull away from, but now, you found yourself smiling through.

Sometimes, he’d suggest wandering into the baby section, his tone casual, almost playful. “Just in case. Want to see what’s out there.”

The words always made your skin crawl.

Because no matter how innocuous they sounded, your mind couldn’t help but spiral. It always went back to the hidden birth control, the misplaced pills, and the monthly pregnancy tests he insisted on. He’d stand there, watching you pee on the stick, his arms crossed but his expression almost serene—waiting, anticipating. He wanted to know right away.

You tried to shove those thoughts into the furthest corner of your mind. Tried to convince yourself it was all harmless.

Satoru, by contrast, didn’t seem to care much for babies. He never lingered in the baby aisle and rarely commented on Suguru’s behavior. But he’d hum softly, his hand clasping yours, and flash you a loving smile.

You liked to think that as long as everyone else was happy, Satoru was happy.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

Occasionally, when they left for long missions, the apartment felt suffocating in its emptiness. You’d pad softly through the vast, cold space, the silence amplifying every creak of the floorboards beneath your feet.

Your eyes darted around, searching for the hidden cameras you knew were there. You weren’t sure where they all were, or when they liked to check the footage, but you’d found one blind spot: the hallway closet.

You moved slowly, deliberately, ensuring you didn’t do anything that might raise suspicion. Even though you were alone, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

All because they loved you.

Slipping into the closet, you nestled yourself on the floor, silky yukatas hanging above like a shroud. Your laptop glowed faintly in the darkness as you opened it and began your quiet rebellion.

You searched for apartments—something small, something within your budget. Each listing felt like a whisper of hope. You lingered on them, imagining the freedom they promised, before methodically deleting your browser history. Clearing the cache. Erasing every trace.

It was a silly idea. A foolish one, really.

But for a few stolen moments, it was yours.

It didn’t seem so silly after the heated argument with Satoru when he got home.

He was already overstimulated, frustrated, and teetering on the edge of losing his patience. Those moments were the worst—when the teasing lilt in his voice faded, replaced by something sharp and mean. His cerulean eyes, usually playful and glinting with mischief, turned cold and calculating, the glow of his Six Eyes adding an eerie sharpness to his gaze.

All he wanted was release. That was all.

“It shouldn’t be a big deal,” he said, his tone flat but brimming with expectation.

Except you weren’t in the mood.

“I’m sorry, Toru, I just—”

“I do everything for you, and you can’t even provide me with a little comfort?” His words came out harsh, the grin curling his lips into something too sharp to be soft. He stepped closer, his towering frame casting a long shadow over you. His presence always felt overwhelming—broad shoulders, perfectly sculpted face framed by stark white hair, and a lean body that seemed to hum with restrained power. You swallowed hard. Did he get taller?

“I just got off my period, so it’s—”

“It’s what?” His voice cut through your hesitation, his hands flexing as if he were trying to leash himself. “Come on, baby. Just a quickie. Or let me use your mouth.”

The fight drained out of you before you even realized it.

You ended up on your knees, the cold tile biting into your skin, a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from your flushed face. His long fingers twisted tightly into your hair, guiding your head as if you were nothing more than a puppet for his pleasure. His pale chest rose and fell steadily, the faint sheen of sweat on his skin catching the light, glinting like cruel punctuation to his earlier frustration.

The tip of his cock pushed past your lips, the stretch almost unbearable as he moved with slow, deliberate thrusts. His head tilted back, exposing the sharp lines of his jaw, tightening with every wet sound that filled the room. A low groan rumbled deep in his throat, vibrating in the space between you like a growl of satisfaction.

Your throat burned, gagging and gasping as you struggled to adjust. Your hands clutched at his thighs for balance, fingers digging into the hard, taut muscles beneath his impossibly smooth skin. His hips began to move with more force, his breaths growing heavier, the faintest smirk curling on his lips as he reveled in your struggle.

His moans grew louder, rougher, until with a sharp tug of your hair, he pulled out. Hot ropes of cum painted your face, the heat of it stark against your flushed skin. You blinked through the haze, barely catching your breath, the sting of humiliation bubbling up in your chest.

Before you could even reach for something to wipe yourself clean, the sharp click of a camera shutter echoed through the room.

You didn’t need to look up to know what he was doing. You could already imagine him grinning at the screen, tapping a few buttons with casual ease. You could picture the caption as clearly as if he’d whispered it into your ear:

"Our girl is so beautiful, isn’t she? <3"

The thought sat heavy in your chest, a mix of shame, anger, and something else you didn’t want to name.

And then, as if nothing had happened, Satoru turned sweet again.

He brought you a towel, his large hands surprisingly gentle as he wiped your face. “Come on,” he coaxed, his voice softening. He guided you to the bathroom, his fingers lacing with yours, and drew you into the shower.

Under the warm water, he washed your hair, his hands threading through your strands with care. His crystalline eyes softened as he began to tell you about his mission, his lips quirking into a small smile. From the counter, he produced a small box of mochi, your favorite snack.

“You’re everything to me, baby,” he murmured, his lips brushing your temple. His arms wrapped around you, his broad chest pressing against your back. “I’m going to marry you one day. You know that, right?”

And just like that, the storm passed, leaving behind only his affection.. 

Your heart sank at the mention of marriage. With them, you knew they’d find a way to make it happen—the three of you, bound together, no matter how impossible it seemed.

After the shower, you slipped into bed, craving the comforting warmth of the sheets. It was a small solace, a fleeting moment where you could envelop yourself in something soft and familiar.

Satoru liked to cuddle during naps, and true to form, his lanky arms found their way around you. He pulled you close, his chest pressing against your back as he nuzzled into you. His kisses came next, peppered across your lips with deliberate exaggeration, loud and obnoxious.

You used to giggle when he did that. You used to squirm and laugh, batting him away as he grinned and pulled you closer.

But now, you stayed still, letting him press his kisses and settle into a nap with you.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d giggled like that. Or the last time you’d laughed at all.

On their next mission, you had exactly six hours.

Exactly six hours for a stupid idea. A fleeting thought. 

You’d planned this carefully, down to the second. When they asked where you’d be, you made some excuse about a doctor’s appointment. It was believable enough—Suguru always asked to see the summary of your visits when you got back, a habit you knew was less about care and more about control.

But this time, you lied.

There was no appointment.

Instead, you booked a one-way trip. Far, far away from Tokyo. Far enough that they wouldn’t be able to find you, at least not right away.

The States. It was the only place you could afford with the small stash of cash you’d scraped together over the years—birthday cards, Christmas cards, anything you’d managed to squirrel away without raising suspicion. You even bought a prepaid flight gift card, ensuring it couldn’t be traced back to you.

No suitcases, no sentimental keepsakes, nothing but the clothes on your back.

Before you left, you scrawled a simple note, placing it where you knew they’d find it. Just three words:

"I love you."

Ironic, isn’t it? 

As you sat at your terminal, the minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness. You told yourself a 14-hour flight wouldn’t be so bad. It was freedom, wasn’t it? The first real breath you’d taken in months.

But then, a familiar figure caught your eye.

Megumi.

He wasn’t alone—the other first-years trailed beside him—but it was Megumi’s gaze that stopped your heart. His dark eyes widened when they locked onto yours, a flash of recognition that made your stomach churn.

Your anxiety hit you like a freight train, crawling under your skin, seeping into your every bone as they walked past. Megumi glanced back at you one more time, his lips parting just enough to mouth the words: “I’m sorry.”

And then you saw it—his hand reaching for his phone, his fingers already dialing.

You didn’t have to guess who he was calling.

Your heart sank, but you told yourself it wasn’t his fault. You knew Megumi had his reasons—his own happiness to protect, his own precarious balance to maintain. He was trying to survive too, wasn’t he?

You understood. You really did.

But understanding didn’t make the fear any less suffocating.

You cried the entire car ride home, your sobs tearing from your throat, raw and uncontrollable.

Satoru didn’t even glance your way. His icy, dull gaze stayed fixed on the window, his jaw clenched so tightly you thought it might snap. The silence between you was deafening, broken only by your muffled cries and the hum of the car engine.

In the passenger seat, Suguru sat quietly, his expression unreadable. His hands rested on his knees, fingers drumming absently, as if the tension in the car didn’t weigh as heavily on him.

Poor Ijichi-san gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white, clearly caught in a situation he didn’t want to be in. He glanced at you through the rearview mirror—sympathy flashing briefly in his eyes—before he quickly looked away, the moment shattered by Satoru’s cold, piercing glare.

The car felt suffocating, like the air had been sucked out, leaving only the weight of your despair and the oppressive silence of the two men who claimed to love you.

Your brows furrowed in confusion as you watched the familiar sight of your apartment complex slip past the window. Panic prickled at the edge of your already frayed nerves, your grip tightening on the fabric of your clothes. A small sniffle left your nose, your voice coming out hoarse and broken.

“Where are we going, Toru?”

You turned your gaze to Satoru, hoping for an answer, for anything—but he didn’t look at you. He didn’t respond. His profile was cold, distant, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Your stomach twisted, guilt clawing at your insides. You must have hurt him. He always clung to your love like it was his lifeline. You must have broken that lifeline, snapped it in two with your attempt to run.

You shifted your gaze to Suguru, hoping for some clarity, but his face gave nothing away. His dark eyes flickered toward you for the briefest of moments before returning to the road ahead, his expression as still and unreadable as ever.

The car veered away from familiar streets, the urban sprawl giving way to the shadowy embrace of the woods.

Your chest tightened.

Every nerve in your body screamed as the car crept deeper into the forest, the tall trees looming like silent sentinels. Your mind raced with grim possibilities. Were they planning to leave you here? Like an unwanted dog, cast into the cold for daring to run away?

But then, just as the panic began to claw at you, your gaze caught the sight of something familiar—something that made your heart sink even further.

The tall, imposing torii gates emerged through the mist, their vibrant red striking against the muted greens and grays of the forest.

Oh.

The Gojo Estate.

“I don’t think I can trust you enough not to leave again,” Satoru said quietly, his voice uncharacteristically calm, almost detached.

He wasn’t usually the one to chide you—that was Suguru’s role. Suguru, who would dole out punishments with a sharp tongue or a chilling, parental tone, as though you were a misbehaving child. But now, Satoru’s words held a gravity that made your chest tighten.

“So,” he continued, his crystalline eyes fixed ahead, “I figured here, you could have a few more eyes on you. Maybe even enjoy it more. Who knows? You might even come around to the idea of being Mrs. Gojo or Mrs. Geto. Your pick.”

He smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“We already filled out the documentation. You’re married.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, the weight of them crashing into your chest. Your mind spun, unable to comprehend the sheer audacity of it, the sheer finality.

You felt chained.

Like a dog, tethered to their will, stripped of freedom, and locked away under the pretense of love.

They didn’t say anything as they walked you through the grand, silent halls of the Gojo Estate, and for that, you were almost thankful. The air was heavy with whispers and disdainful glances from the servants. A non-sorcerer? Their murmurs carried through the air, sharp and cutting, as though your very presence was an affront to their world.

When you reached the bedroom, Satoru’s hand guided you forward with surprising gentleness, his fingers brushing yours as though nothing had changed. He led you to the edge of the plush, sprawling bed, and you forced a small, trembling smile to your lips—a weak attempt at peace, at hope.

His bright eyes softened, and for a moment, you thought maybe, just maybe, you could reason with him.

But then his hands caught your wrists.

A light kiss brushed your lips, so soft you barely registered it over the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. The faint click of the cuffs was almost lost in the quiet, but the cold metal digging into your skin was impossible to ignore.

He stepped back, his expression unreadable.

It was Suguru’s voice that filled the air next, low and calm, like a lullaby that promised nightmares.

“You’re going to provide us an heir,” he said, his smile almost serene, even as your eyes widened in horror. “It was Satoru’s idea, actually.”

His smile deepened, almost teasing, as though he enjoyed the shock and betrayal etched across your face. “And you’re not leaving this room until you’re safe and pregnant.”

The words hung in the air, suffocating you.

Suguru’s tone carried a quiet, unmistakable happiness, as though this was something he’d always wanted. Maybe it was—he’d always longed for a child, hadn’t he? You turned your gaze to Satoru, searching for something, anything.

But all you found was the lovesick smile he gave Suguru.

Not you.

Your chest tightened as tears pricked your eyes, the overwhelming urge to scream, to sob, to lash out building inside you.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

Instead, you sat there, the cold metal biting into your wrists, the weight of their love crushing the last sliver of hope you’d held onto.

You had grown numb.

Must be from all the love, right?

[geneviveleocardius]

viktor, and his way of loving you

yes babys, arcane

viktor has a way with words, and his flirting style is sharp and witty. he’ll tease you with playful sarcasm, often catching you off guard. for example, if you ask him if he likes your outfit, he might quip, “well, it’s not terrible. you’ve exceeded my very low expectations.”

despite his often aloof demeanor, viktor absolutely melts when you lay on him. whether it’s resting your head on his chest or curling up next to him while he works, he’ll grumble about being “distracted,” but his hand will instinctively settle on your back or stroke your hair. je secretly craves the comfort and connection.

viktor loves to rile you up with gentle teasing. if you’re trying to impress him or show off, he’ll smirk and say something like, “adorable. is this your best attempt?” he doesn’t mean it harshly—it’s his way of engaging with you and keeping things lighthearted.

viktor isn’t shy about casual touches. he’ll rest a hand on your shoulder as he leans over to show you something, trace patterns on your palm while deep in thought, or brush your hair out of your face with a surprising tenderness.

viktor is reckless in his own way when it comes to showing love. if you mention wanting something or needing help, he’ll dive headfirst into solving the problem, often overextending himself. you’ll have to remind him to slow down and take care of himself, but he’ll just shrug and say, “i’ve survived worse.”

if you try to challenge him intellectually or make a point, he’ll raise an eyebrow and give a smug response like, “oh, is that what you think? fascinating. completely wrong, but fascinating.” he loves engaging with you in debates, even if it’s just to watch you get riled up.

viktor might tease and joke, but when you’re upset or vulnerable, his sarcastic edge softens. he’ll hold you close, quietly reassuring you with words like, “it’s okay. I’m here. Even when you’re being insufferable.” his way of comforting is uniquely viktor—pragmatic but undeniably warm.

viktor doesn’t get overtly jealous, but he’ll throw in pointed remarks if someone gets too friendly with you. “oh, how charming he is. do you need me to take notes, or are you already smitten?” it’s mostly to amuse himself, but there’s a spark of possessiveness behind it.

viktor’s love is as sharp and nuanced as his personality—equal parts teasing, intellectual connection, and quiet, tender affection.

viktor’s kisses aren’t rushed. he takes his time, savoring the moment like it’s the last one he’ll get for a while. a soft press of his lips to your forehead, the corner of your mouth, or your temple says more than words ever could.

when he’s feeling cheeky, viktor will give you the faintest ghost of a kiss just to hear you complain. “oh, you wanted more? perhaps if you asked nicely,” he’ll smirk before pulling you in again.

if the two of you have time alone, his kisses are deep and filled with unspoken emotions. his hands might grip your neck or your waist as if he’s afraid to let go, his lips moving with a raw intensity.

viktor loves how your eyes reveal your emotions, even when you try to hide them. he’ll hold your gaze longer than most, often smirking as if he’s read something you didn’t want him to see. “your eyes always give you away,” he’ll murmur.

viktor expresses love through action. he’ll quietly fix things, design little inventions for you, or work late into the night to make your life easier. to him, love is about making sure you’re cared for, even in practical ways.

while he’s often buried in his work, viktor treasures the moments he spends with you. whether you’re reading, talking, or simply sitting together, those quiet moments mean the world to him.

viktor loves subtle physical contact—resting a hand on your knee, brushing his fingers against yours, or tucking your hair behind your ear. he doesn’t need grand gestures; these little moments are enough for him.

viktor values your opinion more than he admits, and he loves pulling you into his world. he’ll explain his latest project with a mix of excitement and sarcasm, often teasing your lack of technical knowledge: “hmm, not bad—for an amateur.”

viktor is deeply aware of his flaws, but your understanding of him—and your ability to look past his gruffness—means everything to him.

he adores how you can match his sarcasm or challenge him in conversations. if you manage to catch him off guard, he’ll smirk and say, “impressive. i’ll allow it—just this once.”

viktor’s greatest fear is losing you, whether to time, danger, or his own mistakes. he hides this fear behind sarcasm, but it’s why he can be fiercely protective. “i don’t have time to worry about you,” he might say, but his lingering gaze betrays his concern.

viktor’s love is quiet, witty, and deeply intentional. he doesn’t always say the words aloud, but every touch, every action, and every teasing comment is his way of showing how much he adores you.

[we all know he’s in love with jayce, though]

[perpetuallyfive]

God, I'm so happy with what they did with Maddie Nolen.

I'm sure there will be plenty of people mad because obviously there was a weird backlash over a character who has sex with one half a ship, so I'm sure some people worry this will lead those people to feel justified in their initial response.

But ignoring people who can't emotionally regulate for a second, because those childish impulses aren't worth dictating the fun things a narrative can do: Maddie is SO INTERESTING as a character and she fills in a lot of the questions people seemed to have about the rest of the season.

Consider for a moment that it wasn't Caitlyn who convinced Vi to be an Enforcer. It was Maddie.

I know that some people took this line to be about Zaunites, a sort of obvious connection to the very racist idea of "one of the good ones," but since Maddie is talking about Marcus and his betrayal of the Enforcers just before this, I'm pretty sure her framing here is something else. The point she's making is specifically targeted at Vi's own beliefs and weaknesses, her desire to protect. That seems clear to me now with all we know about Maddie's capacity for manipulation.

She's not saying, "You're good, for a poor."

She's saying, "Wow, I agree with you, the Enforcers are really bad; it's so upsetting. I think you might be the only one who can change it, but only if you join us." This is what convinces Vi to do something she never thought she would.

Well, this and the fact that Caitlyn believes in her so much which, again, is information she gets fed to her directly from Maddie. It even seems like Maddie seeks her out just to say this, which on first viewing felt oddly convenient. Wow, Vi just happens to meet this naive girl who just happens to say exactly what she needs to hear to do something so out of character.

Except obviously none of it was coincidence. Everyone already knew how much Vi meant to Caitlyn and getting Caitlyn under control would require either controlling Vi or removing her from the equation. This was a push in that direction.

Then there's her more obvious role as the spy in Caitlyn's bed, there to reassure her that the Noxians are only trying to keep all of them safe. Then when Caitlyn expresses larger doubts, she's immediately ready to lay out an alternative. You could just give up, Maddie seems to whisper gently in her ear. Just reestablish things as they were before.

But she knows Caitlyn isn't going to go for that. She's not going to go back to the council as it was, because it's only going to remind her of the empty place her mother left behind. Maddie knows that Caitlyn isn't going to take this offer, which is precisely why she suggests it. She frames quitting as the only clear alternative to going along with everything Ambessa wants because she knows that Caitlyn will refuse, which leads her right back into alignment with Ambessa. She makes continued obedience into an active choice that Caitlyn affirms she's making.

Even Maddie's comments that suggest direct opposition to Ambessa — "you're our leader... I follow you" — are designed to frame herself and her true leader in direct opposition, just as Ambessa's own warning about entanglements is there to further that point. They both make a point of reminding Caitlyn that they are her true ally, isolating her further from anyone who isn't the devil and (other) devil on her shoulders.

This way Maddie and Ambessa can both tug at Caitlyn, pulling in what feels to her like opposite directions, all so that she lands precisely where they wanted her all along but with the illusion of active agency.

And look, I'm not saying my read on her is gospel, because I think they intentionally gave us enough room to really speculate and wonder about her, someone who could have been just a background nothing character but ends up being such a huge part of the second season. That's so interesting!

I especially love that she comes across as really naive and innocent, just some poor little thing swept up in the fervor, when in reality she's a true believer who has been manipulating things to go her way from the start.

[angeastrd]

. . . late night calls .ᐟ

natasha romanoff x fem! reader. fluff!

after a hard mission, all she wants to do is talk to her girlfriend

“Did I wake you up?” The hoarse voice of Natasha Romanoff is the first thing you hear in your bleary haze, as you blink, willing yourself to wake up. You stare at the unknown number on your screen – burner phone. She wasn’t supposed to communicate with you during missions.

“. . . Huh?” you mumble. Your eyes glance over to the clock; 2:14 A.M. glares back at you, as you focus back on the voice crackling through your phone. You shake your head, before seeming to remember that she can’t see you on the other side of the line. “No,” you correct, perhaps a little too delayed. “You didn’t wake me. Been up. For a while,” you lie. She snorts. She still didn’t understand why you tried to lie to her– she was a professional spy, for god's sake. She was always going to know. Still you liked to try. 

She doesn’t comment, instead admitting, “I needed to hear your voice.” She pauses. Was that too vulnerable? Sometimes Natasha worries that you may be in love with the Black Widow the world sees, and not the broken-down, morally gray Natasha Romanoff. She was a fragmented soul, and she dreaded the day that you would gain clarity of that and take your leave. Being with an Avenger already wasn’t easy work – hell, the title had at least a decade of trauma attached to it. It probably was in the contract. Being with the Black Widow? That was more trouble than she was worth.

“I missed you too,” you responded simply, and she was thankful that you were able to read in between the lines of what she was not brave enough to say. “I’m sorry for waking you up,” she starts, and before you can reassure her, she continues, words flowing now that she had begun, “I had to exterminate a target today. He was a HYDRA agent. He had a picture of his kids in his wallet,” she confesses, voice cracking as she tries to recompose herself. “You probably think I’m being ridiculous. Having more empathy for this random man than he had for everything I stand in,” she mutters. 

“I don’t think you’re ridiculous, Natasha. I’ve never thought that,” and you can picture the way her shoulders relax at your words. She had always worried that her flaws were too varied – and her strengths too lacking. “I think you’re incredibly strong, especially to feel so much empathy over someone who was not on your side. I love you,” you tack on, almost like a reminder that she's allowed to feel with you – she’s allowed to admit things and be vulnerable and it's okay. 

She clears her throat, and your heart aches for her. Long distance truly never got easier, but absence did make the heart fonder. “When do you come home?” you offer. Natashas' window of vulnerability had closed by now. But every time, that window got a little longer (for you. The S.H.I.E.L.D. appointed therapist still didn’t even have a window). 

She hums at that, and you can hear ruffling on the other line – she liked to talk to you before bed. It was her version of long distance pillowtalk. “Should be home tomorrow night.” she answers, as a yawn escapes your lips. “You’re tired,” she notes, and there's a hint of apology in her words. 

“‘M not even tired,” you mutter in protest, “I have never yawned in my life. Swear,” you grouse, and she lets out a soft laugh at your words. Your lips curve up at that. You always liked being able to make her laugh; she didn’t laugh unless it was genuinely funny. She laughed with you quite a lot.

“You’re a liar,” she chides. “And you snore. I miss your snoring,” she admits.

“That's gay,” you mumble, head lolling against the pillow. 

“So was the phone sex we had last night?” she counters, and you both delve into giggles. Even though the two of you were apart, you can tell that she muffled her laughs in her pillow – just like you did. 

“Shut up. I need to go to bed,” you mutter, trying to change the topic. You would probably never get used to how easy it was to talk to her. “Stay on the phone. Don’t hang up”

“Needy. Have I ever hung up on you?” she asks, the indulgence in her voice ridiculously evident. “One time your phone died,” you retort, before letting out a big yawn. “Tell me about the rest of your day” Mid-way through her story, she hears a soft snore crackle through the line. “Are you asleep right now?” 

“. . .” 

If you were awake, you’d be able to visualize the fond look on her face. “Goodnight. I love you. Sleep well,” she whispers. 

[rafesangelita]

♡ rafe and pogue!sweetheart!reader reevaluate their living situation now that she’s carrying a little baby in her tummy.

warnings: babydaddy!rafe, pregnancy, soooo much fluff, crying (mostly happy tears! no worries), rafe is so reassuring :(

a/n: introducing rafe’s condo to my blog.. but tanneyhill will forever be my go-to :( also just a reminder: pogue!sweetheart!reader is only pregnant in this fic alone. meaning any other works i create with her are not correlated with this one UNLESS stated so <3 you could keep up with this little universe under the ‘₊˚⊹♡ babydaddy!rafe x pogue!sweetheart!reader’ tag on this post!

“why do you look so sad, baby?” rafe joined you outside, bringing you a cold glass of water as he urged you to sit down on his lap. you were growing teary-eyed again, your gaze falling on the pink and white camper in front of you. taking a small sip, rafe held onto the glass for you while you wiped at your tear stained cheeks. “it’s just,” you sniffled, “i know we can’t raise a baby here, but this little thing— it’s all i’ve ever known..” you rested your head on his shoulder, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your thigh. rafe studied you for a moment, stroking the side of your face.

“i’ve been meaning to talk about that actually,” rafe cleared his throat, “what if we didn’t go house hunting?” his words drew your attention, a hum falling from your lips. “and stay here? i would love that,” you shook your head, “but i know it’s for the best. we barely fit in there ourselves.” rafe laughed. “yeah, i know.. someone is always bumping their head when we have sex.” your cheeks heated as you slapped his arm playfully. “well to be fair, it was just me in there before you came along,” you sighed, “i can’t even imagine that now.” you pecked his cheek.

“at first, i thought maybe we could check out some houses on figure eight..” your eyes widened, your lips parting to reject his suggestion. “but,” rafe interjected, “i know that’s not really your scene.” he reassured you. “so i want to propose something else,” both of you looked at each other, “i’ve been working on this blueprint, m’thinking we just get our house built out here. you could design the kitchen however you want, whatever would be best for you and your baking, we can put the nursery together, do the whole thing y’know. go the whole nine yards.” you swallowed thickly, tears pricking your eyes.

“you have a blueprint?” you smiled, your vision becoming blurry as rafe nodded. “yeah, you wanna see?” you whispered a ‘yes, please!’ before he guided you inside. he reached for a spot you couldn’t reach in your cabinet, unraveling the blueprint in question. “see, right here? i thought you’d like the kitchen to have big window facing the backyard, oh, and right here!” he pointed a finger, “we could have shelves built into the walls for the baby’s room, we could even have a reading nook for bedtime stories..” your heart felt so full right now, you swore it could burst at the seams.

“what’s this empty space right here in the backyard?” you held up the paper, pointing to a spot where a little white heart was drawn. “..that would be where your camper goes.” your head shot in his direction, your eyebrows knitting in confusion. “what do you mean?” you put the blueprint down, turning around while he caged you between his arms. “i think we should build the house just right out front, you don’t have to move anything, relocate the camper, none of that. i could start getting the brush cleared out as soon as next week.” you blinked, your brain trying its best to piece everything together.

“you thought of all of this in the two weeks since we found out?” your hands snaked up his chest until your arms wrapped around his neck. rafe embraced you, his eyes shutting at the sweet scent of your perfume. “i told you, you have nothing to worry about, sweetheart. i’m taking care of everything.” you breathed him in, both of you rocking softly as the wind chimes sung outside in the light breeze. you two stayed in a comfortable silence, the image of watching the sunset together on the porch of your own house with a baby on your hip flooded both of your minds.

“it’s perfect.” you looked up at him, smiling when he pecked the tip of your nose. “the three of us, huh?” rafe loved the way that sounded rolling off of his tongue. “mhmm,” you let out a shaky breath, “the three of us.”

[kuurechr]

Satoru barged into your dorm, no warning ahead of time, so he was surprised to see Shoko on your bed, slathering a face mask on you, as Nanami sat with his back against the bed, on the floor reading as his face mask was drying on his face.

"You guys are having a fun night without me?!" Satoru exclaimed, feigning pain as he held onto his heart. "I thought you were my best friends?"

"Who told you that?" Nanami grumbled, before looking over at you. "Where's Ijichi? He's late, is he on a mission?"

"Ijichi isn't going on missions anymore, I told him not to," Satoru said, sliding next to Nanami, looking over his shoulder to see what he was reading.

Nanami shut his book. "Why would you do that?"

"What're you reading, porn?" Satoru said with a scowl, as Nanami put his book away.

"Answer the question Satoru," you chided, reaching over to your dresser to take out a sheet mask for Shoko.

"He'd die out on missions. He's better off as an assistant."

"Why would you do that to him?" Shoko asked. "He'd already barely gone out on missions last year."

"Duh," Satoru mocked. "Because he'd die if he went out on a mission for a curse higher than a fourth grade. You guys know I'm right."

You huffed. "Yeah, that's probably what's best for him, but you probably didn't put it very nicely."

Satoru shrugged, evading the accusation. "He's probably stuck doing paperwork. Which means there's room for one more today!"

"There's room for you any day," you reminded him. "However, you're rarely here. And I thought you were dealing with a special grade today."

"It was a first grade," Satoru huffed. "But it was in the North Pole, so that slowed me down a bit. It's really cold there, you know?"

"Sometimes I forget you didn't get elementary level schooling," Nanami deadpanned.

"And yet somehow he's about to be a parent," Shoko commented. "How's the adoption process going?"

"Yaga's dealing with most of it," Satoru answered, leaning his head back. "I don't even know if I'll have time to properly take care of them. They're like 6 and 7? They can function pretty well on their own by then, right?"

Everyone in the room instantly glared at Satoru, and he put his hands up in defence. "Okay, okay, I know, I was kidding. You guys think so little of me. But seriously you all better be good at babysitting, especially at random hours."

"Well, you're doing a good thing," you reassured him. "So of course, everyone's open to help." Satoru thanked you, genuinely sincere before quickly switching up and teasing Nanami for what he was reading. As the two argued, Shoko closed her eyes, falling back on your bed, and it made you think.

"Hey guys?" Shoko opened her eyes, looking over at you. The boys both turned their heads to look at you, clearly pondering something. "What are you planning on doing? After you graduate. And for a while after that?"

"What's bringing that question on?" Shoko asked.

"I mean, I don't know. Obviously the adopting part is going to be a big part of it. But what are we going to do?"

"I mean, there's not many options for a jujutsu sorcerer," Satoru reasoned. "I'll just keep going on missions as I'm assigned to them. That should keep me busy till I'm old. Shoko, you're a bit different right? You're too useful to leave as an assistant but your cursed technique doesn't really put you in a fighting stance."

"Yeah you're right," Shoko agreed. "Yaga talked to me about it back when I first got scouted, actually. I'll become a school doctor. I want to get my license first though. Y/N, you're continuing taking missions?"

"Yeah, of course," you answered. "Nanami, you too?"

"I don't know," Nanami scratched the back of his head. "Sometimes I feel like I'm going to quit. This sorcery shit is exhausting. And I've only been at it for three years. How did the two of you survive for this long?"

"Well I wasn't fighting curses at age 3."

"I was." You all glared at Satoru again. "What?! I'm Gojou Satoru! Of course I was kicking curses asses!"

"Alright well, back to the kids," you said. "You've met them, right? I'm sure they're gonna be hard to get along with at first; they've been through a lot, right? God, where were they even living before? What's wrong with Toji, how could he just completely ditch them?!"

Satoru placed a hand on your calf. "Alright, don't freak out. They live in this really crappy apartment. Apparently, they left them enough money for that. But the older girl did all the chores, and helped Megumi with it. Megumi collected water from places he'd found clean water, apparently, because they couldn't pay their water bill. And the lights don't work, so I'm guessing it will freeze or burn depending on the weather. We got them out of there immediately though. They're staying with Yaga right now."

"Why can't Yaga continue to do that?" Nanami asked. "Why does it have to be you who takes them in?"

"It doesn't have to be me," Satoru answered. "It's my choice. They're with us because it was my decision. So it should be my responsibility to make sure they're okay."

Nanami nodded. Shoko chuckled. "I'm surprised Satoru. You're sounding like a good person."

"I'm going to rip that mask off your face."

"Now that sounds like Sato-! No, wait, I have five more minutes!"

You can read more of this on AO3 ! Nothing Special

[shadowuponstorm]

He is Nothing Like You

Tim and Reader have been secretly married for three years, which has done them good, considering the risks of Tim's occupation. One day, while Tim was on shift, he never expected his secrets to start ripping at the seams and spill onto the floor.

MDNI 18+ since it involves sexual activities! I might do a second part

"I've been meaning to ask you, what's the ring around your neck?" Lucy asks, trying to break the silence in the shop.

"Not that it's any of your business, but it's just a ring to me, no specific meaning," Tim responds while silently praying Lucy would end the conversation there, "Also it's safer if it's around my neck than on my finger."

"Grey wears his wedding band, and you don't see him having any trouble with it," Lucy mentions as Tim chuckles and reminds her that Luna would kill him if he ever took his ring off.

"Just let it go and focus on other important things, like that carjacker right there," Tim said, causing Lucy to jerk her attention back in front of her as he stopped the shop and the both of them get to work.

Once the carjacker was booked and processed, Tim and Lucy were on their way to get back on the road when Grey stopped them with a, "Bradford, my office real quick."

Lucy asks, "What is that all about?" Tim responds, "I don't know, just wait by the shop. I'll be there when I'm finished."

Tim enters Grey's office to see his wife, Y/N, sitting in one of the chairs. "She doesn't look pleased about something," Tim thought to himself before Grey excused himself to let the couple talk privately.

-Y/N's POV-

"Is everything okay?" Tim asked me while I got up from the seat to stand in front of him before I ask him, "Do you remember telling me when we first started dating that your dad died?"

Tim gulps before clearing his throat and answered, "Yes, why are you bringing that up?"

"I was cleaning the house up when the phone rang. It was a hospice nurse calling for you because Tom Bradford was asking for you," I responded before continuing, “Thinking it was the wrong number, I called Genny to ask her what was happening. She told me I needed to have that conversation with you."

Before Tim could answer me, Grey popped his head in to remind Tim about an old case regarding a family friend, Monica Ochoa.

"Do you need to go? I'm not mad. I'm just so confused," I said before Tim turned his head towards Grey and told him he was still on it before turning his attention back to me.

"I'll explain it later, I promise," Tim responds before I nod. Understanding his tone's urgency, I told him I'd be waiting with Kojo at home.

Hours passed before I heard the doorknob jiggle; Kojo had heard it since he had jumped off the couch to run to the door and greet Tim.

"Hey bud," I hear Tim say as his footsteps start toward the living room, bringing him into view.

"Hi," I say as Tim takes a seat next to me before he takes my hands in his.

"I haven't been honest with you about everything, and I am truly sorry. It wasn't fair of me to let you get whiplash from finding out I lied about my dad being dead," Tim responds as I notice tears brimming in his eyes, making me take my hands back and put one of them on his cheek, running my thumb along the bone.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. I meant what I said. I'm not mad at you," I whisper, reassuring him before he sighs and responds, "I know, but it still wasn't right of me. So, I want to tell you everything."

"Okay," I say as Tim clears his throat to mention, "The reason I told you he was dead is because he's dead to me. He was abusive. To me and Genny, mostly me."

Before I can ask, he says, "When I was 7, he smashed my head into a wall. Another time, he left me at Griffith Park with only a compass to find my way home, said it's supposed to turn me into a man."

"Tim," I croak out before tears started to fall down my cheeks, "Now I feel bad that you had to reopen those wounds."

"No, no, don't you dare blame yourself," Tim said as he wiped the tears before continuing, "I should've been honest from the get-go, but instead, I wanted to keep that part of my past secret to spare you from the pain. And it was about time I told you since I have to see him."

"You don't need to see him if you don't want to. Don't let this hospice situation guilt you," I respond before Tim shook his head and told me it had to do with the Ochoa case.

"I think he had something to do with it; now I have to face him," Tim says, looking like the little boy who just wanted his dad's love, which prompts me to ask, "Want me to come with you?"

"No, you don't have to. I wouldn't force you," Tim started to say before I cut him off, "I want to. You're my husband, and my vows stated that I will be by your side for every obstacle in your path."

"Okay," Tim whispered as the both of us exited the house hand in hand, preparing to battle this demon together.

We arrived at the facility and entered the room to see my father-in-law lying in his hospital bed.

"Oh, man. Never thought I'd see your face again. Genny tell you to visit?" Tom says as I squeeze Tim's hand harder in comfort.

"Wow, liver really did a number on you, old man," Tim responds before Tom tells him he doesn't have it so bad.

"Nurses here all love me. It's just no one will bring me that shot of Patron I keep asking for," Tom says as he jesters toward the apple juice, saying it's a joke.

"A cruel joke if you ask me," I thought before glancing at Tim's face to see he thinks the same.

"You always seem to have someone looking after you, even when you don't deserve it," Tim responds, squeezing back my hand.

"Something on your mind, son?" Tom asked, clearly wanting this to be done and over with.

"Remember Frank Ochoa? Lived down the street. Shot to death 25 years ago. Well, I'm sure you remember his wife, Monica," Tim responds.

"Can't say I do," Tom deflects, obvious sign that he does remember.

"Come on. You were sleeping with her behind Mom's back," Tim says, making Tom laugh, and he asks where he got that from. Tim mentions that he saw the two of them together when he was 13.

"Oh, crap," Tom says before Tim continues, "For some reason that I still don't understand, I lied for you, lied to Mom."

"Poor little Tim-Tim," Tom degrades before spouting out, "What are you bitching about? You kept your mouth shut. You did good. Now get over it."

I feel my blood start to boil in anger at the audacity, the disrespect this son of a bitch in front of me had for the man I plan to spend forever with and have children with, but I keep quiet because he seems to not care about my presence.

"You know, I found the gun that you hid in the wall. I know you killed Frank. But why'd you do it? You wanted Monica all to yourself?" Tim asked before continuing, "Ruining one family wasn't just enough for you, was it?"

Tom takes his cannula out before getting off the bed and walking towards us. "And so what if I did?" What are you gonna do about it?"

"Get back in bed," Tim grits out as he moves me to stand more behind him for safety reasons, prompting Tom to challenge him with a "Make me."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. You're right. I killed Frank. But he had it coming. So screw him, and screw you," Tom says before telling Tim to put the cuffs on him and drag him away from his deathbed like a big man.

"This isn't over," Tim responds as he grabs my hand again, and we both leave Tom's room.

"I'm sorry. You shouldn't have heard all of that," Tim whispers before entering the truck, "I have to get to the station and type up that report. I'll drop you off at home before I do."

"No, take me with you, it would save gas," I said as I explained to Tim it wouldn't make sense to do that.

After arriving at the station, Tim heads to one of the computers while I follow him. I glance over to see his rookie, Lucy, walking over.

"My dad confessed to Frank Ochoa's murder. I'm typing up the report," Tim tells Lucy as she looks at me before gesturing there were ears listening, "She's my wife, she knows."

"Wait, wife?! As in ring on the finger?" Lucy asked in shock as I raised my left hand to show her my wedding band, "We'll get to that later, but Tim, while you were gone, I brought Monica Ochoa back in."

"Why?" Tim asks as Lucy explains, "Because I knew there was more to her story. You couldn't see past the version that you wanted to see."

"What'd she say?" Tim asks again, before Lucy tells him what was confessed.

The look on Tim's face tells me we're going straight back to that hospice facility. We walk back into the room and see Tom snoring in the chair, so Tim places the shot glass and pours Patron before placing the bottle on the table, waking Tom up.

"You brought me a present?" Tom asks before Tim tells him to think of it as a push.

"You didn't kill Frank," Tim says as Tom repeats that he did and tells Tim to cuff him, "Monica confessed."

"Leave her out of this," Tom responds.

"Frank was beating her. She fought back. She shot him. She was terrified, so she ran to you. You came up with the burglary story, helped her stage the house, then you hid the gun in case the cops got too close and you needed to frame someone else," Tim says.

"He was a brutal, abusive bastard. She deserves a medal for what she did," Tom responds, making me and Tim look at him in shock.

"He was an abusive bastard?" Tim asked, testing Tom for what came out of his mouth.

Feigning confusion that was fake, Tom asked if he was like him, which prompted him to say he was nothing like Frank.

"I taught you what you needed to know, son. You're a man now because of me," Tom says before I finally let my voice be heard.

"No, absolutely not. You are not getting credit for how Tim turned out," I gritted through my teeth as Tom looked at me with disdain before asking me who I was, "I happen to be the woman your son is going to spend the rest of his life with. I'll be damned if I stand by and let his piece of shit father try to take what's rightfully his credit. You deserve nothing of the sort, he's nothing like you and he will never be like you."

"Tim, you're going to let your wife speak to me this way?" Tom asked before Tim scoffed and responds, "She's right. I'm who I am in spite of you."

As Tom sits there stunned, Tim says, "Goodbye, Dad. I hope it hurts."

We left the facility without looking back, and after we arrived home, I suddenly felt my body being moved to where my back faced the door and I craned my neck up to look into Tim's eyes.

"Thank you," Tim whispers as I look at him in confusion, "Thank you for being by my side for that. I know it wasn't easy, but you were right. I needed you there with me."

"You don't have to thank me for that, I will always be there for you," I say before Tim smiles and leans down to kiss me.

After kissing for what felt like minutes, Tim moves his mouth to be near my ear and he whispers, "I'm also really turned on by you defending me."

I laugh before asking, "Oh are you? What are you going to do about it?"

I feel Tim's hands move down to my ass before I squeak out in surprise as he hoists me up, causing me to wrap my legs around his waist and feel the outline of his dick through his jean.

"I think I'm going to give my beautiful wife a thank-you gift," Tim whispers before moving towards our bedroom and putting me down on the bed.

"Tim, you don't have to," I started to protest before he cuts me off, "Just let me do it, you deserve it."

My attention gets grabbed while I watch his hands curl around the collar of his shirt before he pulls it up off his body, which, I feel myself start to drool over my husband's abs. His hands then moved to his belt to unbuckle it before he walk up to me and get down on his knees so he can be on the same level as me. Tim pulls me into another kiss, one more passionate than the last, as I feel his hands unbutton my jeans before he pulls the materials down to my ankles to take them off, leaving me in my black panties. He then positions my body to lean back against the pillows before he moves himself to be above me, Tim asks, "Is this okay?"

Not trusting my voice, I nodded my head before Tim's fingers curled around the sides of the panties as he started pulling them down. He groans out in pleasure as he changes his position, his shoulders in between my thighs, keeping my legs where he wants them to be, his hands near the area I yearn for him to pay attention to. I shivered when I felt his breath before he placed his mouth on me, causing me to let out a shuttered moan. When I felt myself getting close, Tim pulled away, causing me to groan out in frustration, making him laugh.

"The only way you're cumming is around my dick," Tim whispered in my ear as he gets himself out of his pants and boxers while he pushes my shirt up to above my chest, showing the matching black bra.

The both of us let out a groan as Tim enters me and starts to thrust, his dick hitting all the right places. After minutes passed, the both of us came and Tim's body moves to his side of the bed as I tell him that was a great gift, making him he let out a soft laugh.

"Glad to be of service," Tim says getting out of bed and putting on clean boxers and pajama pants before he goes to the bathroom to grab a washcloth to clean me up.

After Tim cleaned me up and helped me get dressed, he got back into the bed to pull me into him so we can cuddle.

"Tim?" I said after a moment of silence, causing him to say, "Yeah?"

"I have something for you," I respond before reaching over into my nightstand and pulling out a small box, "I was going to give you this later, but now feels right."

Tim opens the box and pulls out a onesie that says, "My daddy will arrest you if you mess with me."

"Babe, this is perfect for our future baby," Tim responds before he felt his voice stop short when he sees what else is in the box, reaching in to pull out the pregnancy test, "Are you really?"

"Yes, I found out two weeks ago, you're going to be a dad, Tim," I said as Tim pulled me into a tight embrace before kissing the top of my head, "And you're going to be the best dad, I just know it."

"I love you so much," Tim whispers before pulling me into the most loving kiss a girl could ask for.

Tim may have had the worst pick in the dad potluck, but no doubt in my mind he will never treat our children the way Tom treated him and Genny.

[sinofwriting]

Engineer in Law - Max Verstappen

Words: 1,758 Summary: Max and GP are far more close than most race engineers and drivers, which might have to do with the fact that Max is dating his daughter. Note(s): Takes place in 2021. Reader is GP’s daughter. Reader is 21, Max is 23. I don’t know what GP’s wife’s name is IRL but in this fic her name is Sarah. Also, reader is only given one physical descriptor which is that she has GP’s eyes, apologies if (like me) you don’t know have that eye color, but we can imagine and/or wish! This might end up getting a part two.

Masterlist | Support Me! 

“You're happy.”

It’s not something GP normally comments on, Max’s moods. Not unless it’s to make a sarcastic comment about how thrilled he looks to be going to a press event or something of the sort, but Max is beaming like he just won a race. It’s an odd look on the young driver, an unusual one, sadly.

“I asked the girl I was seeing to be my girlfriend, she said yes.” Max’s voice is quiet and GP leans in, his eyebrows going up at the news, at the soft but excited tone the words hold.

He smiles at the younger, reaching forward and clasping him on the shoulder. “That’s fantastic, mate. Want to tell me about her?” It’s a rather stupid question because if Max didn’t want to talk about her, he wouldn’t have said anything. And GP is rather happy to sit here and listen to Max talk about this new girl in his life.

“She’s amazing, GP. I mean really smart, funny, and she never backs down. She always has a response to anything I say. And even if I’m in a bad mood, she doesn’t let me just sulk. She knows exactly how to get a response from me and she knows it. She’ll get this little smirk on her face after I snap back at her and she’s great.”

GP has to stop himself from clearing his throat at how head over heels in love Max looks. It was oddly like looking in a mirror when GP was just four years younger than him and seeing his wife holding their newborn daughter.

“I hope you're not snapping at her too much.” His dad mode is in full force, nearly shuddering as he thinks of his twenty-one year old daughter getting snapped at often by a boyfriend. He further shudders at the reminder she currently has a boyfriend.

“Not like that.” Max reassures. “It’s kind of like us in the simulator.”

GP lets out a laugh.

It wasn’t often he joined Max in the simulator but every time they did, other people would gather around to hear the pair mock argue with each other.

“Well I’m happy to hear she’s keeping you on your toes.”

—

Max is practically vibrating in his seat as he waits for GP to sit down.

“She planned a date.”

GP stills from where he was about to reach for his water.

“Like a whole date. From everything, the food, the drinks, what we watched and it was all stuff I liked and fit in my training plan.”

He watches the younger closely, hearing something off in his voice.

“I thought I missed something. Like an anniversary or something, even though we’ve only been together five months.”

GP eyes shut for a second, rage threatening to overtake him. Max was never treated kindly enough and Max had never really talked about his few previous relationships before and he can’t help but wonder if this is why. Because Max never felt truly happy in them. Always something just wrong, always on the edge.

“She just wanted to do something nice for me. Said it wasn’t fair, I had been planning most of our dates.” Max looks confused, but there’s a slight flush to his cheeks.

“Y’know, my wife and I trade off.”

Max tilts his head a little.

“I mean, we only do a date about once a month, but we trade off. I did the last one, so tomorrow, she’s planning our date. We used to do the same with vacations, but the whole thing stresses her out a little too much, so I plan them and get the travel plans sorted while she handles looking at things to do and places to go while we are there. It's a partnership, Max. It should be an equal give and take. And that doesn’t mean that it has to be you guys both are giving and taking the same thing equally, you just need to find the balance that works for you. Like you take out the trash, she does the dusting.”

“She has a dust allergy. And we aren’t living together yet.”

GP smiles, coughing to hide his laugh. “Yet, I see. And if she has a dust allergy she needs certain pillowcases and sheets, I’ll send you the ones I bought for my daughter last Christmas.”

“Thank you, GP.”

“I’m always here for you, Max.”

—

“You were out again.”

“Good morning to you as well, dad.” His daughter says, eyebrows raised even as she steps closer to press a quick kiss to his cheek before going to the fridge.

He glances at the clock, slightly miffed to see it is just after eleven am. “Closer to the afternoon.” He comments.

She signs, leaning against the counter, a Red Bull in hand, and he watches as her fingers play with the tab but not open it. It’s a habit he’s never seen from her before. “Dad,” He looks at her face at the sound. “Is me having a boyfriend bothering you that much?”

He softens a little. “No, well, yes. It’s just I don’t know anything about him. All I know is you have a boyfriend and that’s it. I don’t know his name, how old he is, what he does for a living, if he treats you well. And you're spending an awful lot of nights as his and I’ve never met him.”

Her fingers still against the can’s tab. “Is that something you want?”

“Well I’d prefer to meet him before you fully move in with him.” He gives her a look. “But yes, I would. He makes you happy.” It was a hard pill to swallow, the reason for his daughter seeming to be so happy being a boy, but that was the reason.

“Alright, I’ll text him and maybe tomorrow we could do lunch?” She offers.

“I’d like that.”

—

“I’ve been listening to Max talk about our daughter for months.”

Sarah’s lips thin as she struggles not to laugh, running a soothing hand over her husband’s back. “You said it was sweet how he talked about her.”

“Well, I didn’t know he was talking about our daughter then did I?”

His head somehow manages to drop further into his hands. “He talked for thirty minutes straight about her eyes. Her eyes, Sarah. She has MY eyes.”

Sarah can’t help the laugh that spills from her lips. “Well at least it was just her eyes you heard about.”

GP’s face screws up at that remembering the hickey he had seen high on Max’s neck last week and apparently he had some interesting scratch and bite marks as well. Those thankfully he had not seen. “Please, love, put me out of my misery.”

His hands fall into his lap and he presses his face against his wife’s neck, smelling the slightly faded scent of her perfume and her lotion.

“Oh hush.” She says, lightly swatting his shoulder. “It could be much worse. You like Max, you know Max. He’d never hurt our baby.”

GP softens, pressing a kiss to her neck before sitting straight, his back thanking him for it. “No, he wouldn’t. I just,” He sighs. “This is serious for Max and it’s obviously serious for her. She’s never invited a boy around the house that she’s been seeing. When she said lunch, I thought she had booked our usual table.”

“I know. You were all ready to go, wallet and keys in hand.”

“She let me think that as well you know.”

Sarah hums, “I wonder who she got that from.”

He smiles at her. “No clue, love.”

Her eyes give a slight roll and then she’s leaning forward. Brushing their lips together. “Max is good for her and it’s obvious that she is good for Max as well with what you’ve told me. And just think you always joked that Max was like a son. Now it’s just more official.”

“Oh my god, they’re going to get married.”

Sarah laughs at the horror and awe in her husband's voice. “I’d say don’t get ahead of yourself, but you saw exactly what I did at lunch.”

—

“Max, if you talk about my eyes one more time, I’m going to report you to HR.”

Max snickers at the older’s expression. “But, I’m not talking about your eyes.”

“She has my eyes.” GP cuts him off immediately, already knowing his defense. “We have the same exact eyes.” He holds up a finger, silencing Max. “And don’t even think of starting to list the difference between them.”

He kicks a little at the ground, faking a sigh. “Fine. Can we at least talk about you talking in the braking?”

GP sighs, but nods. “Yes, we can talk about it.”

They both fail to notice the Sky Sports camera that had been filming the conversation until much later, when Max is sitting in his driver’s room, chuckling at the broadcast that had just ended and the tweets on his phone.

“Listen to this one, Sky Sports seriously reporting that a female employee is threatening to go to HR because of Max’s comments while playing the video of audio of GP, his MALE race engineer, is seemingly joking about going to HR, is sending me. How is this a serious news source?”

GP snorts, looking at his texts with his daughter. “She just sent me this one, ‘Sky is doing nothing but proving their British bias and stupidity. How much do you think they suck Lewis’ dick for every year now?’ Honestly, they have a point.”

“More than a point.” Max says, tossing his phone to the side. “It’s one thing to say I’m a shit driver that shouldn’t be anywhere near Hamilton, but this? This is ridiculous even for them. They have the footage and audio, aired both, and are saying that it’s a female employee. Vicky is having the time of her life right now, and so are my lawyers.”

“Your lawyers?”

Max shrugs. “They’ll be working with Red Bull’s as well, but this is more than that.”

“It is.” GP agrees. “Sarah was with her when it aired. She was livid.”

“I could tell.” The driver chuckles. “My texts are filled with it. She wants to come to the next race, well, two.”

“Team home race. That’s a statement.”

His cheeks are a little pink. “She wanted to wait for Zandvoort to officially come as my girlfriend, but she wants to be with me for these next two now.”

“It will be nice to see her at both.”

[muirmarie]

a delegation of vulcans come on the ship, and the enterprise does the usual hullabaloo, tours and nice dinners and etc. the ship's pretty used to important people swinging by, so the command crew especially is a little more lax in their free time, while still being super professional with the delegation themselves.

this results, unfortunately, in mccoy and spock having one of their normal breakfast squabbles, as they do.

when they realize that the vulcans have arrived and are Watching This, mccoy about swallows his tongue, trying to remember what he may have just said.

spock, seeing this, thinks hmm, i may need to smooth things over.

HOWEVER.

the vulcans corner mccoy in his office and are very, we overheard the son of sarek earlier, and we wish to reassure you that vulcans do not normally carry prejudices against humans. perhaps, with a human mother, he carries his own internal prejudices that he may need to examine, and we will be advising your captain that commander spock speak with a counselor - a vulcan counselor - about these prejudices that he carries, one experienced in internalized xenophobia.

mccoy is staring at them, wide-eyed, wondering how he always gets himself into these messes.

that's not necessary! he says with an awkward, clearly strained laugh. i don't think i was too complimentary back to him either, it's - i assure you, i respect vulcans and your culture, mister spock and i just -

it is reasonable that you yourself may carry a low opinion of vulcans if the only vulcan you have met has treated humans with such disdain.

this is. hm. mccoy is out of his depth.

that's not what's happening here, i can assure you. perhaps if we get the captain he could better explain -

the vulcans look vaguely concerned. is our presence making you uncomfortable? we should have thought to include your captain, to ensure you did not feel -

SPOCK AND I ARE FRIENDS, mccoy shouts - shouts, unfortunately, loud enough for anyone in sickbay to hear through his thin office door.

we understand he is your commanding officer, but this - this human need to protect him when he has spoken of humans so dismissively -

IT'S HOW WE FLIRT, mccoy says, somehow even louder. JESUS CHRIST IT'S HOW WE FLIRT, WE'RE BOTH INTO IT, PLEASE GOD STOP MAKING ME TALK ABOUT IT, WE'RE FINE, EVERYTHING'S FINE I SWEAR

........., say the vulcans.

........., says the suddenly quiet sickbay behind mccoy's office door.

the door opens.

hi bones, kirk says with a wide, wide grin, a constipated-looking spock next to him. we were trying to find some lost vulcan delegates. did you all have a good talk?

mccoy, grimly, reminds himself that it is physically impossible to sink through the floor.

.....it was illuminating, the vulcan says. commander spock, did you have any input?

spock, making a fair attempt at hiding behind kirk, looks like he'd prefer to bolt.

the doctor is adept at understanding all facets of conversation, especially those unspoken, he says, studiously avoiding mccoy's eyes.

i see, the vulcan says. ....i expect to meet your father soon. do you have anything you would like me to pass on to him?

only, spock says, stone-faced, my regards.

oh, give him regards from doctor mccoy and i, as well, kirk chimes in, extremely helpfully.

i did not realize you were acquainted, the vulcan says.

doctor mccoy actually saved ambassador sarek's life, kirk smiles.

......i see. yes, a very illuminating conversation, the vulcan says. we are now ready to proceed with the tour.

'fraid i can't accompany you, i'm very busy, mccoy says, walking ALL of them out the door, spock included. have fun!

as soon as the door shuts, he sits down behind his desk and buries his face in his hands.

he only gets to sit there for about ten seconds, though, before chapel comes in. all she does is give him a wide, wide smile, and he groans. out!

(the entire ship is aware of it by the time the hour is up)

[femd-archive]

Please more on sub Kenji PLEASEEEEEEE😭😭

why of course (ㅅ´ ˘ `)

BIRTHDAY BOY

pairing: ultraman: rising — kenji sato x fem!reader

word counting: 2.4k

content warning: not proofreader | sub!kenji | maybe an occ kenji but who cares | pegging | use of toys (strap-on) | fingering (male recieving) | dumbification (kenji wants to get pregnant woops) | mention of pregnancy | breeding kink | hands-free cumming | maybe too cheesy. i just love this man TT lots of kisses and praises | aftercare and maybe other content that i'm forgetting about :/

summary: after discussing about pegging with kenji, he purchases something on his birthday. a strap-on!

side note: english is not my first lenguage, so i apologize in advance for any grammar mistakes

"Ta-da!"

[Name] glances at the gift-wrapped box that Kenji had just placed on her lap before looking up again, finding her boyfriend's excited face looking at her right back.

"A gift? For me? But it's your birthday" she reminds him, taking the box and starting to tear the paper anyways.

"Uh-huh. It's a gift for you, but technically it's still something that will be used on me" Kenji explains, making [Name] look up again, confused, before looking back at the already unwrapped box. She looks at the object with a surprised face.

'Sexy fantasy. Silicone strap-on' was what the box said, showing a picture of the product inside.

To be completely honest, it wasn't a surprise at all. For almost a month now, [Name] herself had brought the topic of pegging to the table with Kenji, excited to try it out, but also understanding if it was something he wasn't comfortable with. From Kenji's face, she could tell that he was scared, maybe even a little bit upset? But two days after he had said that he was going to think about it, one night before going to sleep, Kenji had said yes when he was already in dreamland.

After confirming it again the next day -becuase [Name] thought that he was just talking in his sleep- they began with small sessions to prepare Kenji. The first one was full of nerves.

"Is it going to hurt?" Kenji asks as he watches his girlfriend climb onto the bed after bringing the bottle of lube from the bathroom.

"Maybe a little, but I'm going to do my best so it doesn't hurt too much. I promise" she reassures him, caressing her arm as she looks into his eyes with her pupils dilated with love. "Besides" she continued, "we'll stop if you want to, just say the word. We don't have to finish this in one day. So if you feel uncomfortable, just say it, okay?"

"Won't you be angry?" he asks again, taking his girlfriend's hand in his, stroking her knuckles with his thumb.

"Of course not" she responds quickly. [Name] cradles Kenji's face between both of her hands, making him look into her eyes. "This is to make you feel good, okay? I don't want any more than that, and if you don't feel good about this now, we'll stop, okay? No problem" she nods her head at him and then leans in to leave a kiss on his forehead.

After a few more moments of reassurance, they finally began. Kenji's underwear was discarded somewhere in the room, leaving him at the mercy of his girlfriend who only looked at him with adoring eyes.

"You look very pretty, Kenji" she praised him, placing a kiss on his inner thigh. Kenji breathes raggedly, feeling the sensations of his girlfriend's caresses with every fiber of his body.

The insertion of [Name]'s index finger was slow. She looked up all the time, analyzing the gestures on her boyfriend's face while her finger sank deeper and deeper into him.

"It's all in" she announced when it really was, taking her boyfriend's hand with her free hand. She gave it a small squeeze and moved it to heer lips to place a kiss on his knuckles. "How do you feel? Did it hurt?"

Kenji lifts his head from the fluffy pillows to look at his girlfriend with dizzy eyes. "I'm fine, I'm fine" he reassures, "it only stung a little, but it was fine"

[Name] smiles, caressing his knuckles lovingly. "Okay, I'm going to stop for a bit until you get used to it and then I'll move, okay?" she watched as Kenji nodded his head. "Words, baby"

"Yeah, yeah… okay" Kenji responds, giving his girlfriend a small smile.

For his first session, Kenji managed to take 2 fingers quite well. After that, the next sessions became looser and Kenji became more vocal about the places he liked to be touched. He even almost came without hands!

So yes, the subject about pegging was nothing strange for the couple, but [Name] never thought that Kenji would buy a strap-on on his own. She looks back at her boyfriend.

"Are you sure you want to do it today?" she asks, feeling a little nervous.

"What better day than today?" Kenji asked with a teasing tone. Noticing his girlfriend's nerves, his eyes softened and he walked over to sit next to her. "Hey" he calls, cupping her face with both hands, "I trust you, okay? And I trust that you'll not hurt me and you'll make me feel good, like you always do" he reassures, smiling at her. He kisses her lips softly, condoning all of their love in that kiss. "I love you" he whispered against her lips after breaking away from the kiss.

[Name] smiles, placing another small kiss on Kenji's lips. "I love you too" she whispers. "Now come on, I have to make the birthday boy feel good" she stands with the box in her hands, and Kenji is quick to follow her with a smile.

"Wooow!" he cheers with is arms uo, before hugging his girlfriend from behind and walking together to the bedroom.

Kenji spreads kisses all over his girlfriend's abdomen, hips and thighs, while she tries to fasten the strap-on on her hips.

"Excited?" she asks with a teasing tone. Kenji rests his chin on her stomach, hugging her legs.

"Yup" he replies, placing another kiss next to [Name]'s navel. "I can't wait to have you inside me" he purrs, watching her from below with half-lidded eyes.

[Name] was about to say something, until her words were trapped in her mouth when she saw how her boyfriend took that silicone dick and began to caress it as if it were a real one.

Leaving kisses along the toy, Ken looks up again, making eye contact with his girlfriend as he runs his tongue from the base to the tip of the fake dick, making [Name] shudder

"Shit, baby…" she reaches out her hand, running her fingers through Kenji's hair.

Placing another kiss on his girlfriend's hip, Kenji speaks again as he masturbates the silicone cock. "I learned a thing or two while you were away" he declares, before -much to [Name]'s surprise- taking the entire length of the toy into his mouth.

"Ken- Oh dear. Kenji" she cups his cheek, looking at him with admiration as he begins to bob his head. "You never cease to amaze me"

"Please, baby" Kenji begged between licks and kisses, "fuck me good" he whispered, looking at her with begging eyes. [Name] smiles, amazed at how bold Kenji could become.

"That I'll do" she whispers, bending down to catch Kenji's lips on a feverish kiss. They fall into the sheets, [Name] on top on Kenji as she takes his briefs off without looking, freeing Kenji's hard cock into the cold air.

He keeps on spreading kisses on [Name]'s body as she stretchs to grab the lube bottle from the night stand. She kisses his lips once again. "How do you wanna do it, birthday boy?" she asks, uncapping the bottle and squeezing some of the lub on the plastic dick, spreading it with her hand on a jerking motion.

"I wanna see your face" he says, propping on his elbows to see her better.

"Then we'll stay like this" she shrugs, smiling at Ken.

[Name] slips three fingers with ease inside of Kenji, thrusting them in and drawing moans from his lips. "I forgot how good they feel" Ken sighs, moving his hips to slightly ride your fingers.

"Yeah? Do you like them more than my cock?" [Name] teases.

"I'll have to try it first to figure that out" he teases back.

They share a wet kiss as [Name] takes her fingers out and position herself between Ken's legs again. Aligning the dildo with Kenji's hole, she looks up at him. "Are you ready?" she asks, concern back in her eyes.

Ken props in his elbows once again, pulling [Name] closer with a hand behind her neck. "I've been ready since I said yes" he reassures, leaving a short kiss on her lips, "now please, put it in?" he reaches out his hand, taking the dildo and putting it back on its rightful place. [Name] cooperates and moves her hips to push it in, slowly. Ken throws his head back, hitting the pillows. "Mmh" he mumbles, looking up at his girlfriend with adoring eyes.

[Name] bottoms out, and her hands run up and down against Kenji's long legs, caressing them to bring some comfort at the strange intruding sensation. She moves her hands all up Ken's body, bending down to litter his stomach and chest with kisses, finally reaching his lips and kissing him softly.

"You're so pretty Ken. So good for me" praises fall from her lips as she follows her kisses on his shoulder, caressing his hips with her thumbs.

After a few moments being cuddled up, Ken kisses [Name]'s cheek to gain her attention. "You can move now" he whispers, smiling softly at her.

Without wanting to make him wait more, [Name] obeys and start moving her hips slowly, eyes fixated in the way Ken throws his head back in the pillows and moans softly at the movement inside of him. Soon, she starts picking up her pace, going faster and faster.

Ken's mouth opens, moaning without shame. He grabs [Name]'s arms that are on each side of his hips, searching for support in the sea of pleasure he just jumped in.

"Does it feels good?" [Name] asks between whispers, erratic breathing due the constant thrusting.

"So good, baby, nnngh- Please! Faster, fuck me faster!" he whines, getting a hold of his girlfriend and hugging her from her shoulders.

[Name] took a grasp of Ken's hips and did as he asked, fucking him faster. The bed moved below them, hitting on the wall softly, but who cared about that now? Definitely not Kenji, who's eyes were way back as he hugged his girlfriend, strong body easily bouncing on her hips.

The room was filled with his moans and the sound of skin slapping. His harden cock, poorly neglected, was rubbing in between their bodies, pre sprouting from the tip and making it more slippery.

After so many position changes, [Name] had finally found Kenji's prostate. He had gone silence, hugging one of the pillows as the tip of the toy hitted that spot again and again on a loop.

"You close, baby?" [Name] asks with a kiss on his shoulder, her hips never stopping.

"Yes" he drags the last letter. Ken makes an effort to prop on his elbows to look back, looking at his girlfriend with pleading eyes. "Please..." he whines, "please fill me up, nngh ~ fill me up with your babies. Please..." he keeps on begging, even reaching for [Name]'s wrist to hold onto, looking at her with those pleading puppy eyes.

[Name] gets shocked for a second, and with that, her movements also halt, making Kenji whine. "Baby, you know I can't do that-" another of Kenji's cries interrupt her.

"You can, I know you can!" he whines. "Only you can breed me...please...stuff me with your cum. I promise I'll be a good mama...please?" he babbles, tears already falling from his pretty eyes and moving down on his cheeks.

[Name] stares at him in awe. Something inside of her also changing. All of a sudden, the idea of Kenji bearing her children wasn't so bad. She smiles, resuming her thrusts back on her boyfriend as she hovers over him. "Yeah? You want my cum so bad?"

Ken nods desperately, pouting. "Yeah"

"You'll be a good mama, Ken, I'm sure you will be" she assures, hips moving faster and harder, making Ken fall into the pillows once again. He calls out his girlfriend's name between cries, hugging on the pillow like it was gonna save him from the immense pleasure he was feeling and he couldn't control it.

"Cummin'...nngh, 'm cumming" he mumbles.

"Let's cum together, hmm?" she leaves a kiss on his neck.

Ken moans out loud as he shots his cum into the sheets, dirtying them with ropes and ropes of thick cum. [Name] makes the last thrusts a lot harder, grunting in Kenji's ear, as she had just emptied herself inside him. And Ken could feel it, he swear he could! His girlfriend's hot semen filling him up, it was only a question of time for him to be swollen with her babies! He can't help but smile at the simple thought.

She falls on top of Ken, on his back, and they stay like that for a good couple of minutes before [Name] decides to get up and start cleaning up. She leaves a kiss on Ken's back and neck, whispering lots of praises and "I love you"s.

"You feeling good?" she asks, smiling once Ken had moved onto his back on his own. He smiles up at her, resting a hand on his stomach.

"Better than ever" he replies, looking up at her with adoring eyes as she cleans him up with some wet wipes. "Thank you...for all of this" he suddenly speaks, making [Name] look up at him, finding Ken already looking at her like she's his world -and she, indeed, is-. "You made this the best birthday ever. I love you"

[Name]'s heart swells with love. Bending over, she peppers his face with lots of kisses, making Kenji gigle, and finally, she leaves one on his lip, but Ken grabs her from the neck and kisses her back, slowly and softly. They pull apart, and [Name] is also looking at him like he hangs stars in the night sky. "I love you more, and I'm glad you enjoyed yourself; I loved seeing you like that. We can do it any other day, if you want"

"Uh, yeah?" Ken scoffs. "That was mind-blowing, of course I wanna do it again!" he speaks with enthusiasm, and with a lot of energy for somebody that's been fucked for an hour.

"The neccesary amount of times that it would take me to get you pregnant?" she asks with a teasing tone, laughing her head off when she sees Kenji's expression.

"Oh my god...what did I say?"

After cleaning up the bed, the bath time was filled with laughter and embarrassed grunts from Kenji's part, his cheeks and ears red because of how embarrassed he was at the replays of what he had said. Though, he had to admit...it sounded hot.

[ghostfacd]

KISS AND MAKE UP ; CORIOLANUS SNOW

summary: when coriolanus and you argue over the sudden closeness between him and lucy gray, all hell breaks loose. but he’s reminded that in the end, it’s you who he chooses, and it’s you that will stay.

warnings: reader and coryo have a toxic relationship (are we surprised?), mentions of cheating (no actual cheating involved), fighting and yelling, some ooc!coryo, descriptions may be inaccurate ‘cause i read the book like 2 years ago 😭

“I hate you!” You scream, thrashing in Coriolanus’s threshold. “Let go! Let go!”

“Oh stop making a scene, will you?” He growls out, not appreciating your lack of awareness of the eyes that were currently watching. “She’s fine, she’s fine.” He reassures the staring orbs of eyes, “stop it now, Y/N.”

His tone makes you shiver, and you stop trying to kick yourself out of his grip. He smiles contently at this, finally letting you go, but not before shoving his hands into yours. “See, wasn’t that easy?”

“Oh fuck you.” You say, but both you and Coriolanus know that you’ll be back at square one by tonight, kissing and telling him that you love him.

“Thought I'd have to drag you away and shut you up." He mutters, clearly unimpressed with the way you acted earlier. “Maybe get your shit together, L/N.”

“I would if you’d just act like a decent boyfriend for once!” You say, throwing your arms out in the air. “You know what? I don’t care; I don’t care what you do—go get close to your tribute! Go fuck up our relationship for all I care!”

You yank your arm away from his, stomping inside of the Academy with a scowl plastered on your face. Sejanus is only a few steps behind the two of you, and was going to open his mouth to say something when Coriolanus places his index finger in front of him.

“Don’t.” The boy says. “She’s just being dramatic.” He fixes his uniform, a lavish shade of red, as it was crinkled from the way you had tried to escape his hold earlier.

The next time he sees Lucy Gray, he thinks of your little upset pout and face, your yelling ringing in his ear.

Go fuck up our relationship for all I care!

“Are you alright?” Lucy Gray was cautious around Coriolanus, he was unpredictable, and scarily cunning. She had no idea what was even one of the million thoughts that ran through his mind

“I’m.. fine.” Coriolanus says, giving her a meek smile that almost makes her feel sick. Although she had to admit he was fairly handsome and she had somewhat fell for his charm and face, he still scared her regardless.

“Coryo.” Your voice makes Lucy Gray and Coriolanus both look up. You look like a looming dark figure compared to her, towering over. “We should talk later.”

And Lucy Gray watches as Coriolanus’s once emotionless face turns into a sly grin. He nods, not saying much, which was something Lucy Gray had came to learned these past few days after he had first met and given her a rose.

“Snow always falls on top.” Coriolanus whispers underneath his breath, and Lucy Gray doesn’t question it, only continuing what they had been doing earlier.

When the two of you were walking out of the Academy, you placed your hand in Coriolanus’s. It had gotten colder than it had in the morning, and you were freezing under your uniform.

He carefully caresses your hand, looking up to watch as snow slowly fell from the sky.

“So, you’re gonna tell me what you wanted to earlier?” He asks, still looking at the sky.

“I’m sorry Coryo,” you reply meekly, feeling small under his frame. “For causing a scene earlier. I was upset.”

“Upset at me getting close to Lucy Gray?” He questions, now finally glancing down at you.

“Yes! But you can’t blame me Coryo, you don’t see me getting close with my tribute.”

Coriolanus rolls his eyes, the blue orbs bore into yours. “What did I tell you? I would never cheat on you, silly girl. I’m not a monster.”

If only he knew.

You look down, embarrassed that you two were even having this conversation in the first place.

“I know you wouldn’t, which is why I’m apologizing in the first place.”

The two of you stop abruptly, your eyes reaching his despite the obvious height difference.

“I love you, okay?” Coriolanus breathes out, you can even see his breath, the temperature dropping even lower than it was before.

And although you don’t know the extent to which exactly the words coming out of his mouth are even true, you still go on your tippy toes, shivering as you give your boyfriend a kiss on the lips.

“There’s my smiling girl,” he says as he watches your eyes twinkle. “Now let’s go, I have some ideas of ways to warm you up.”

That night, snow truly, did fall on top.

[noyasmashing]

Between Lines

Sub!Kenma x Fem!reader

CW: caught jerking off, reader a lil mean, begging, kenma being a cry baby, phone smut

A/N: Kinda rushed this one tbh.. I don’t know if I’m a fan of it but I liked the idea

WC: 1,360

Kenma's quiet demeanor was a defining trait, one that set him apart from the crowd. He wasn't one to actively seek out friendships, nor did he make much effort to engage in conversations with girls.

However, you were the exception. The circumstances of how your nightly calls began was something Kenma could not recall; but it was evolved from your shared love of video games. But once the controllers were set aside for the night, the conversations continued.

Despite his reputation for silence, Kenma was an attentive listener. He found solace in the sound of your voice, absorbing every detail you shared – whether it was the latest gossip, your favorite TV shows, or the mundane details of your day. He was content with this, offering only occasional interjections or quiet chuckles in response.

When the topic inevitably turned to him, Kenma's responses were dry, stale. I mean, you tried to talk about him, but it’s like he was on a witness protection program. He always found a way to turn the conversations back to you.

You weren’t exactly sure why, as sometimes you would have to ask “Are you still there, Kozu?"

A soft "mhmm" would be his only response, a subtle reassurance that he was indeed still listening.

Tonight was no exception. The clock ticked past 10:00 pm, leaving Kenma’s room dark as he lay on his bed, phone pressed to his ear. Your voice filled the room, animated and excited as you recounted the latest episode from your favorite TV show.

"But can you believe that plot twist?" you exclaimed, your excitement palpable even through the phone.

"Yeah, it was unexpected," Kenma replied, his tone calm but laced with a hint of amusement.

As the conversation continued, Kenma found himself lying there, feeling embarrassingly aroused. Lately, he had been struggling to find release, but there was something about the sound of your voice that seemed to make him undeniably hard.

His hand started to wander lower, venturing into forbidden territory where his boxers were already dampened with precum.

"That reminds me, Kozu! What you pulled off during the last match was pretty impressive," you enthusiastically complimented him, completely unaware of the effect your words were having on him.

“o-oh really?” He asked shakily, shamelessly teasing his overly sensitive pink tip.

"Mhmm, good job, Kozu.” You chuckled, praising him once more for his gaming skills.

Now, of all times, was the worst moment to praise him like that. He was already so aroused! The tone of your voice, your affectionate words, and just your presence in general was too much for him. By now, he was shakily jerking himself off, beads of precum leaking out of his tip.

He attempted to stifle his sounds of pleasure, but his efforts were in vain as a loud moan escaped him, broadcasting through the mic. His moment of ecstasy was abruptly halted when the realization of his mistake hit him.

"Kozu?" you asked, surprised at his unexpected reaction. Kenma didn’t know what to do with himself. He could die right about now. The one time he decided to let into his urges and he gets caught!

Before he could gather his thoughts to respond, you continued with a mischievous tone, "Have you been getting off to my voice every night?" Kenma's cheeks flushed even deeper as he struggled to find words, caught off guard by your bold question.

"N-no... I just... I'm sorry," Kenma whimpered out, his embarrassment evident in his voice. Somehow, he found himself even more aroused than before. Being caught by you had an unexpected effect on his body.

He braced himself for your potential reaction—scolding, perhaps even the silent treatment, or worse. But instead, your voice cut through his panicked thoughts, softer than before, calm and understanding,

"Did you cum yet?" you asked curiously, your tone indicating a desire to help with his predicament.

"W-what?" Kenma asked, still expecting a reprimand from you, his confusion evident in his voice.

“Cum? Did you?” you asked, this time with a slightly firmer tone.

"N-n, no.. no I didn’t," Kenma told you anxiously, unable to believe you would ask him something so intimate.

“Do you want to?” you inquired, your tone still gentle, yet probing. Kenma couldn't decipher how you felt about the situation, but he responded with a shaky "yes," although it was an obvious answer.

Your light laughter filled the air, further fueling Kenma's embarrassment. "I won't stop you, Kozu. I was waiting for something like this to happen," you admitted seductively, your words sending a shiver down his spine.

Kenma let out a soft whine, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and arousal coursing through him at your candid admission.

His hand slowly made its way back down to his aching cock, ready to relive himself of this burning feeling.

"What... what do you mean?" Kenma let out shakily, running his hand over the length of his throbbing erection. God, he was incredibly turned on right now, teetering on the edge of climax with every touch.

"Oh, come on," you teased, as if he should have known what you meant all along, though maybe he did, he wasn't sure. "Do you think I spend hours talking to you even when it’s late just for fun? I like you, Kozume. I really do," you confessed, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

This time, Kenma let out a loud moan in response. You? You liked him? It was all too much for him to process.

"I want to see you," he whined, his voice filled with desperation, the sound of his frantic movements against his cock audible through the speaker, causing you to clench around nothing.

"You sound so pretty right now. I wish it was my hand doing the work for you," you remarked, ignoring his attempts at flattery.

He continued to diligently pleasure himself, while you comforted him with soft words, unwittingly encouraging his actions.

His breath became heavier, punctuated by moans and whimpers. "Please," he breathed out, nearing the edge of his climax.

"Please what, Kozu? Do you want to cum?" you asked warmly, causing him to nod his head rapidly, as if you could see him.

"Hmm?" you questioned at his silence. He let out a shy "can I?" seeking your permission for release.

"I don’t know…" you trailed off, feigning contemplation. "I’m kind of upset you touched yourself to my voice without me knowing. You're such a little pervert," you chided, and Kenma couldn't help but let out a mangled sob, his hand slowing its pace in response to your disapproval.

Hearing his slowed motions, you quickly scolded him,

"Don’t slow down if I didn’t tell you to.” This time you were much harsher than he expected. Tears began running down his burning cheeks, small apologies leaving his wet lips.

“If you wanna cum, beg," your demeanor shifted quickly, fueling his arousal even more.

He couldn’t believe you would make him do something so lewd, but he was too far gone to stop himself, "Please.. p-please [name], 'wanna cum so bad! I'm sorry.. mm sorry!" Kenma's voice came out in pitiful sobs, his desperation evident.

The sound of your tongue clicking, as if you weren’t satisfied with his pleas, only made him more desperate.

“I don’t know… maybe I should make you wait until I can touch you,” you remarked. But all Kenma could focus on was the “until I can touch you.”

The thought of you, looking at him with those pretty eyes as you made him cum on himself over and over again, was too much.

He let out more pleas and whimpers, his hips buckling pathetically into his own hand.

“I need to cum, it hurts. I haven’t in sooo long. Please, just this once.. one time,” he rambled, trying to convince you.

"Alright baby, let it out," you finally relented, and Kenma's moans grew louder as thick white ropes of cum flew out from his sensitive tip, coating his pale stomach. Small thank yous and pieces of your name left his lips as he hit his peak.

"Who knew someone so quiet would moan so loud," you remarked, a hint of amusement in your voice.