#borous when i catch you borous

[themojavesworst]

i swear to atom when i find out who made these fucking cazadores im gonna—

YOU.

[rottiens]

⊹ ˚. BAROU SHOEI ┊ tags. . 18+, professional player barou, established relationship, afab reader, pussy inspection, oral sex (f! receiving), praising. divider creds: cafekitsune.

You are comfortable. Barou's bed has always felt that way to you. Your back rests on the soft mattress, your body sinks just a little into the blue sheets with white triangular patterns. The room smells clean as always and of the lavender spray in which Barou bathes every space in the room after he comes out of showering after a long match.

The ceiling fan makes a barely audible noise which you catch, recognizing for the first time about three weeks ago after years of spending time in his room. The window is open too, helping to keep you from breaking a sweat.

You have a pillow under your head, one on your lower back and, you're comfortable… You might even fall asleep, if of course, you weren't so excited to pay attention to him.

You crane your neck to get a better look at him and see exactly what he's doing, what he's looking for.

"Shoei…"

"Hold still," he growls, grabbing a restless foot that moves over the width of his shoulder.

"I wasn't planning on going anywhere—," you tell him, even though you know he's not paying attention to you, not to what you have to say at least.

Your stomach raises your hands with a deep inhale.

"What are you doing?" you want to stir beneath him again, acutely aware of what he's doing, or rather what he's not doing.

Every now and then you feel his fingers sinking the cotton of your panties between the folds of your pussy, other times his breath leads in hot swirls to your slit and, you know at this point your panties are soaked, dripping through them, making the material see-through.

"I'm watching." Barou replies, obvious. One thumb at a time strokes your clit in circles, the feel of the fabric kissing your sensitive area and you gasp slowly. "I can tell you like it when I do it."

"That's not—"

"Don't lie to me," he accuses you with a smile you can't see. You settle your posture again to watch, the air billowing over your heads brushes the sweat from your forehead and tousles Barou's dark strands in soft spirals. Across your 'M' shaped legs and the valley of your stomach, he gazes at you with narrowed eyes and a hunter's gaze. "You're so wet," he acknowledges, breaking the connection between his eyes to look at your pussy now.

He tosses the edge of your panties aside, the smell of sex and sweat wafts to your nose barely noticeable amidst the overpowering scent of lavender. Your breath hitches and your face feels even hotter. You know that it being summer only makes your heat that much worse.

With your pussy now naked under his nose, Barou can take a much better look at the mess he's created. His thumb helps him spread the folds apart, going up and down on the soft sensitive flesh of your inner labia.

"Hold your thighs for a moment," he commands, his voice husky.

You do so, grab the flesh just below your thighs and expand them further for him, with your feet now not on his shoulders but in the air you feel much more unsteady, weaker.

You are trembling as he squeezes your clit between index and middle fingers, as he slides a digit up your slit and your hole twitches at the sudden touch. Barou can sense your desire, noting how eager you are by the flushed hue that has taken over your pussy. Borou squeezes it, pinches it, uncovers it as if he is touching it for the first time, like a scientist experimenting. You are trembling, now harder, you call his name and regret it almost immediately.

Barou looks at you as if he hasn't touched you for days. His mouth is open, his lips wet with, perhaps sweat, his own saliva. His hair is black as if someone has tousled it with their fingers and his crimson eyes have turned dark.

"What, baby?" he asks as if he doesn't know what you want. "What is it?" he speaks after leaving a kiss on your thigh.

Your throat turns scratchy as soon as he lowers his head without losing eye contact, his tongue just a pinkish flash that you lose sight of after it sinks into you. A flat tongue lick that makes a mess of your juices, he tastes you, devours you. He takes your nectar on his tongue and swirls it around your clit, sucking and licking, increasing his stroke with each new taste.

Barou grabs your ass and pulls you further into his mouth. He raises his eyes and looks at you with your pussy in his mouth, shaking his head from side to side as he sucks on your clit.

You're not going to see him for days after today because of his practices and the big game he has at the end of the month. You know he has to concentrate, that he's not going to be distracted by seeing you in person because he can't think of anything but you when you're around, always full of devotion to you, so maybe this is his way of making you remember him, that you'll be thinking about him all those weeks until you see him again.

Barou sucks once more on your clit, your fingers loosen to grab his hair and yet he whimpers like a wounded animal. He pulls away with pursed lips from the sweet fruit he is devouring to bark— "Keep them open for me."

You do as he asks, and Barou alternates between fucking you with his thick tongue and licking your clit. Between the heat rising like an invisible fog that overwhelms you and his punishing tongue leaving you no room to escape, you have no choice but to cum in his mouth, arching your back and falling further into the trap that was him.

"Give it all to me," Barou rolls the words on his tongue, full of possession, full of egotism, proud to know that there is no one in the world who can taste you the way he does.

And this is all he will think about in the match. Every goal he scores, he'll get him closer to being with you and going home. Every game he wins, he knows it will be an orgasm he's going to give you.

"That's my girl. Drink water, you're going to give me another one."

[veldian]

Who is the best of the Tanks to cheer someone up to the least? (I know none of them should be allowed to but at least let them)

this got long sorry lmao hi

my gut reaction is that mobius is the best? ive always seen him as the gentlest; he has to get himself super high to even pretend that he's violent. he's got that old man grandpa vibe to him that makes you feel safe n he's good at making people smile. if you give him permission, he'll also give you a HUGE bear hug and a lil kiss on the head.

as long as you're not breaking down sobbing on the floor, 0 has a knack for making people laugh. if you're genuinely having a breakdown he'll probably panic and end up crying too, but if you just need a bit of cheering up then he's pretty good at it. and once you're feeling better he'll give you one of those awkward gentle arm punch things that dads do.

dala on the other hand, is much much calmer n she'd be able to soothe you out of a crying fit. that voice of hers can be pretty grounding, and she isn't intense like klein or borous might be, but she's very good at making people listen. dala also has a gentle touch and has mastered the "holding your hands and rubbing her thumbs against them" move.

klein's really not great at it but he's not exactly.. ineffective either? he's not a very nurturing person, but he'll list the objective reasons why you shouldn't be upset or explain how things always tend to pass and it somehow helps. and this is 100% my own gay opinion but when he's talking normally (ie; not top volume), his voice is very calming when he wants it to be.

8 does a similar thing as klein; telling you reasons why you shouldn't get worked up over things, but in a gentler manner. less "you shouldn't be upset and here's why" and more "this too shall pass." 8 will also try to joke a bit, to lighten the mood and maybe get a smile out. and if you catch 8 in the right mood, you might even get a hug :)

borous, as dramatic as usual, tends to gravitate towards fluffing someone up to make them feel better. why are YOU upset?? you're smart and gorgeous and you have so much WORTH to you?? how can you be sad when you're YOU?? he's very wordy and will make long lists about everything good about you and probably will end it with a clap on the back and an expecting grin, waiting for a smile in return.

THIS TURNED INTO HOW THEY CHEER PPL UP INSTEAD OF WHO'S BETTER BUT UHHH

best to worst; mobius, dala, 8, borous, 0, klein. roughly. depends on who they're talking to. different people need different things etc etc

[owlaholic68]

Fallout December Day 19

I want SCIENCE for Christmas! - Fallout: New Vegas

Spoilers for Old World Blues

As soon as her feet land on the balcony of the Sink, Lynn notices the lights. Strings of brightly colored lights are strung all along the railing. She goes inside, eager to get out of the cold air of the balcony.

“Lynn! Lynn!” Muggy screeches when he sees her. The Jukebox is playing cheerful jazz music, and various wreaths and decorations clutter the walls. “Do you have any mugs for me? Please, of please say yes!”

“Of course I do!” She says, taking a few coffee cups from her heavy bag and handing them down to the small robot. “When did you guys decorate? It looks nice in here.”

Light Switch #2 chimes in with an answer. “Just a few days ago, darling. The Central Intelligence Unit is programmed to begin holiday preparations a couple of weeks before the celebrations.”

Lynn notices that the lights of the room are a soft green. Light Switch #1 adds, “of course, we all joined in and helped. That salacious Biological Research Station even scrounged up some poinsettias!”

“The whole idea of Christmas is sedition and Red propaganda!” The Book Chute shrieks when she walks by. “How dare citizens believe in a higher power, this so-called ‘Santa Claus’ to aid them! The only one they should worship is the government…” Used to his passionate rants, Lynn ignores the machine. She’s learned to tune him out.

The Think Tank is much quieter than the Sink. Of course, that’s because nobody is there anymore. Lynn hovers in the doorway and stares at the empty space. Then she can no longer ignore the guilt rising up in her throat, and turns away. “Merry Christmas,” she whispers.

Mobius’ lab in the Forbidden Zone is much more lively. When she approaches the doors, she hears him singing. At first, she mistakes the song for a normal carol, then kicks herself when she realizes that all of the lyrics are about science and brains. I don’t know what I expected. A small roboscorpion skitters past, sporting a red and white Santa hat.

“Merry Chryslus!” Mobius says, his one functioning eye monitor tilting to look at her.

“Yeah, Merry Christmas to you too,” Lynn says, pulling a small package from her bag. “How have your experiments been going, Doctor Mobius? Did you make any progress on the Nightstalker antivenom yet?”

Mobus drifts over to her. “No, unfortunately my dear friend Borous really got clever with those little varmints. But you didn't come all the way to see your good pal Mobius just to discuss work, did you?”

“No,” Lynn admits. “I got you something for Christmas.” I'm not sure how much he remembers about Christmas, but it's the thought that counts. She sets down a small box.

Mobius perks up. “Oh, how delightful! What a quaint tradition! Coincidentally, of course, I have something for you too!”

Lynn inwardly winces. Coming from him, that could be anything. But she dutifully accepts the lumpy package he floats into her hands.

They simultaneously open their presents.

“Oh, I love it!” Mobius exclaims. Lynn had found old pictures of the Think Tank in their human forms. She had combined them together in a frame labelled ‘My Friends.’

At first, Lynn can't tell what her present is. She unfolds a heavy mass of woolen fabric in a dusty faded pink. Embroidered on the front is a large atomic symbol with the words ‘BIG MT’ underneath.

“It used to be mine, I think,” Mobius explains. “Or maybe it was Klein's?” He hums. “Actually, Dala was over my house often, and it is her favorite color. But I feel like Dr. O always accused her of stealing it from him? And it has dog hair on the sleeve, so we can't rule out the possibility of Borous. Ah, who knows. We all lived basically in the same room for months, years, at a time.”

Lynn pulls the sweater over her head. It's soft in the way that only pre-war clothing could be. The elbows are thin and worn. She catches a glimpse of the photos that she had given Mobius, and leans in close with a smile.

“Look,” she says, pointing down at the pictures. “Dr. 8 is wearing it.” Indeed, the short doctor is bundled in the sweater in the picture.

Mobius laughs. “So he is, so he is. Say, Lynn, won't you stay for some hot cocoa?” Against her protests, he whines and wheedles, finally convincing her to stay for just an hour. They curl up before a fireplace, a relic of a life that the scientist no longer leads, and trade stories and tales until the hot cocoa in her hands grows cold.

[star-spangled-bastard]

1, 10, and 27 (you can't say both are blue) for Sterling and Borous because it's hilarious. B)

1. Who's the one who's reckless and always getting into trouble while the other gotta pull em out

Sterling is without a doubt the one who would get into trouble like 90% of the time. it’s one of his talents. But I don’t think Borous would necessarily get him out of trouble. He directly contributed to most of it.

10. Which one stares at the other's booty like "damn" and how does the other react when catching them

We all know the answer to this and it’s Sterling because he’s a thirsty bastard. He also never gets caught

27. Which ones the red which ones the blue

listen. I’m not saying they would both be blue. but it’s physically impossible for either of them to be red.