#but when they go for such stupid arguments?? like really?? can you not think of anything better??

[ranoutofficssoiwritemyown]

You decide to sleep on the couch after an argument pt.3

pt.1 pt.2 character: Caleb note: not proofread. haven't played the game since he came out so he might be a little oc

Caleb’s mind is simple: you being away from him means he can’t protect you from any possible danger. He is overprotective to the point it disturbs you and sometimes you think if it was up to him he would tie you to his side so you never leave his sight. Because you’re the safest by his side right?

Considering his possessive nature towards you, you can imagine the intensity of arguments between you two. The problem is, he doesn’t see how he’s wrong. You’re a professional hunter? You’ve lived for years without him? You’re one of the best at your dangerous job? falls on deaf ears and right now you’re so so close to strangling him. Instead, you turn around and go to your bedroom to get a blanket and pillow, because sleeping beside this obstinate asshole is the last thing you want tonight. after a minute you can sense Caleb’s presence. He yawns as he leans against the doorframe

“Whatcha doin’ pipsqueak?” His question is playful

“Oh, I’m pipsqueak again”

Caleb laughs at your sarcastic answer which earns your glare, making him mumble “Still mad I see” under his breath. Silently, you wonder if he is bothered by the argument at all. You gather everything in your arms and walk to the door and as you pass him he grabs your shoulder from behind and drapes himself over you.

“A little bit dramatic don’t you think?”

“You’re heavy, you asshole”

You grumble as you try to shrug him off but he won’t budge. Quite the opposite actually, his arms are wrapped around your shoulders tightly with his face in your neck.

“Can’t handle it? I thought you were a strong girl.”

“Do you, really? Because you act like I’m made of glass”

“Well, not glass. More like-”

You try to smack him but he moves his head to avoid it and laughs, instead catching your wrist and placing a kiss on your pulse point. Even though the gesture makes you blush, you snatch your hand back and accidentally hit his metal arm, causing you to hiss at the pain. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow as if saying ‘See?’ which makes you more furious.

He starts to say something but you interrupt.

“Let me go, Caleb. I’m mad at you and don’t want to sleep in the same bed as you”

“No”

“No?”

“Gotta keep you away from your thoughts, pipsqueak. What if you decide you want to leave me or something because of this stupid argument, hm? What then?”

You fall silent for a moment because you need to get this straight. So, he thinks that after he ‘died’ and you mourned him, thinking about him almost every day, years later you find out that he’s alive and is doing everything to keep you close, you will leave him because of an argument? Now, you doubt his sanity. On the other hand, Caleb takes your silence as a bad sign and starts panicking.

“Pipsqueak? Come to bed, please. And we can do whatever you want tomorrow. I’m yours the whole day- Hey, I’ll make braised chicken wings. You still love them right? Or whatever you want, you name it…” When he gets no answer, he drops his head on your shoulder, giving up “Okay, if you really don’t wanna sleep beside me, I’ll take the couch, just, please sleep in the bedroom.”

Finally, you sigh and lean your head against his chest.

“You won’t drop this, will you?”

He smirks because he knows you. He knows you want to give into him but your pride won’t let you. So you try to blame him. Make it look like, you don’t have a choice, so you don’t feel bad about yourself. But he’ll take it. He’ll take all the blame and allegation if it means you’ll stay with him.

“Not a chance” his voice is muffled against your neck as he pecks it, before removing himself from you and leading you back to your bedroom.

“I don’t think you’re made of glass,” he tells you when you’re both lying down on the bed and you place your head on his chest, in return, he wraps his arms around you.

“Hm?” you’re confused before you remember your earlier statement

“I don’t think you’re weak. The opposite actually, I think you’re very strong I just… I worry about you, I can’t help it. So what if you’re one of the best hunters? you’re not immortal. And when I think that there’s even the slightest chance that I might lose you again… I won’t be able to take it. So all this overprotective act is also for the sake of my sanity.” He laughs humourlessly in the end.

You raise your head to look at him. He’s already watching you with adoration behind his purple eyes. You brush the strands of hair from his forehead and place a kiss on his lips.

“I won’t leave you” You kiss the corner of his mouth “You’re crazy if you think leaving you has even crossed my mind. Now that I have you back? You’re stuck with me as much as I am with you”

There’s a faint smile on his lips as his eyes run over your face.

“Goodnight, pipsqueak"

“Goodnight, Caleb”

You both fall silent as you lay back down on his chest. However, the silence is broken by you.

“You’re making braised chicken wings for me, tomorrow”

“Absolutely” he agrees with a silent chuckle.

[thatgirlsworld36]

You are mine- Jobe Bellingham

---One shot; Jobe Bellimgham x fem!reader

word count--> 4.8K

WARNING:mention of alcohol; angst, jelousy unprotocted sex(wrap it before you tap it!) , kinda rough sex, dirty talk, spanking, fingering, hair pulling(like once)... my writing!!

a/n- That's the first time i write one shot and the first time i'm writing smut in my life, sooo. Hope it's not too long. Lmk if i missed something in the warning.Also english is not my first language. Stay safe <3

Enjoy!

The moment the door slammed behind me, the lively chatter and laughter from the other room faded to a distant hum, leaving us in an uncomfortable silence that seemed to envelop us like a heavy blanket. I turned around and met Jobe’s gaze. His jaw was set,  and his eyes narrowed. 

-What the hell do you think you’re doing?- he hissed in a low, husky voice. There was something fierce in his gaze. Poisonous. My stomach churned just from the intensity with which he was staring at me, but I managed to find my voice and speak.

-I'm having a good time with my friends? I don't see where the problem is.

-Y/N, are you serious right now? The problem is that you were openly flirting with him!- his hands balled into fists. He took a step towards me, not taking his eyes off mine. He took another, almost completely closing the distance between us.

-With whom?- his words caught me off guard. I felt as if he had just slapped me hard, but his hands hadn't moved. They sat tight against his body, still clenched into fists. He was trying to suppress his rage. - Jobe, I really don't know who or what you're talking about. I haven't flirted with anyone!

- Don't tell me you didn't notice the way he was looking at you!- he growled with a force in his voice that bordered on shouting.- Everyone in the room saw you smiling and laughing at his jokes.  How you lean closer and closer to him. How you let him pull you aside to whisper something in your ear because “you didn’t hear him.” Don’t make me look like a fool!

My heart pounded in my chest. I tried to calm myself down to quell the rising argument, but the insult from his words was too strong. Had I ever given him a reason not to trust me before?

-Do you know how much you mean to me?-  he continued without even giving me time to defend myself. -I can't sit back and watch you try to get someone else's attention! You're mine. Do you understand that? Mine!

-Jobe, I didn't do anything! I don't want to hurt you.- I tried to sound calm, but my trembling voice gave me away. I didn't want this, I didn't want to argue with him. I was fighting back the tears that were trying to escape me. -I wasn't flirting with Victor, I was just trying to have fun.

-I didn't mention a name. Did i?- His voice became low, almost a whisper, as he leaned closer to my face.  His dark brown eyes were indistinguishable from the darkness. I could feel his anger all over my body.-If you weren't guilty, you wouldn't know who I'm talking about. And does having fun have to come at the expense of other people's feelings? How can you not understand that you're hurting me?

I stared at him for a minute. My thoughts wandered and I could feel my vision blurring. I hadn’t done anything. At least not consciously, I didn’t want it to seem that way. Nor do I want to hurt him.

- You didn’t say his name but I’m not stupid Jobe! I know you’re talking about him. Tell me, what do you want from me? To apologize for something I didn’t even do?- the calm left my body. I wasn’t going to let him accuse me of something for no reason.

-I’m not convinced about that anymore Y/N! If you’re not stupid, then you’re just too blind. Do you even care about our relationship? Do you care about ME?

Hot tears slid down my cheeks. I couldn’t hold them in any longer. The tension seemed to take over the air and suck even the air out of my lungs. I opened my lips to answer him, but when nothing came out, I closed them.  My mind had become a dark, scary place. It was like I was a prisoner to myself. 

-Come on, what happened? Don't you have anything smart to say anymore? Or do you think that if you cry everything will go away?- his voice was colder than before.- I'm asking you for the last time Y/N, do you even care about me?

-Jobe, I-

The closet door opened and Jude's head poked out. It was obvious that he was a little tipsy, and the surroundings and our faces made no impression on him.

- Not that I want to interrupt you, but two of the guests are leaving and- he was stopped by a quick burp, took a sip from his glass to quell another and continued- and I decided to take you back to the party. Or was it a reunion? Whatever.

He turned his back on us and with a slight sway headed back to the living room as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn't interrupted a pressing argument. 

Jobe took a step forward to pass me, but suddenly caught my jaw between his fingers.

-This isn't over. We'll talk again when everyone leaves. By then you'll have plenty of time to think about what you did and about my question.- his thumb slid down my cheek, wiping away a few of the escaped tears. The feel of his hand on my skin was warm, almost comforting. A stark contrast to the chaos in my head.  With his little finger and ring finger, which were under my chin, he lifted my head slightly, making me meet his gaze again. - Do you need me to repeat the question again? You know, in case you've already forgotten it. 

I shook my head. There was no need, it was already imprinted in my mind. It sounded like an endless echo that wouldn't leave anytime soon. That wouldn't leave ever. But this answer wasn't enough. He squeezed my chin very lightly, barely perceptibly, but indicating that this wasn't enough for him. He expected something more. 

-No. No need. - I whispered under my breath. 

-Our future depends on you. Think carefully.

______________________________________________________________

The noise in the room was deafening—laughter, music, broken words that I couldn’t put together into a complete sentence. But it all sounded distant. Muffled. As if someone had put a thin layer of glass between me and reality. I don’t remember how I got to the living room after my conversation with Jobe, or when I picked up my glass, but now, as I sat on the couch, staring at the melting ice, none of that mattered. Drops of water ran down the side of my glass, onto my fingers, but even that couldn’t break me out of the trance I was in. It couldn’t save me from my mind. 

Jobe’s voice still rang in my head—low, thick, filled with anger and jealousy. It echoed like a bell. Louder than the music.  Louder than laughter, louder than conversation, but not loud enough to be found and removed from my mind. 

"You're mine. Do you understand? Mine!" 

I looked into his eyes as he said it. Dark, deep, unyielding. The tremor in his voice, the way his fingers gripped my jaw roughly. The gentleness with which he ran them down my cheek. This moment felt more alive now than the world around me.

One of the guests spilled his drink, someone leaned over to wipe it, and another toasted something I didn’t hear. The world kept moving, but I wasn’t part of it. My gaze kept falling on Jobe. He was surrounded by his brother and other friends. Jude was waving his arms cheerfully and telling some ridiculous story that he would probably regret in the morning. And Jobe was just sitting there. He was trying to act like nothing had happened, but he couldn’t fool me. Not me. His knuckles were white from how tightly he was gripping his glass, and his other hand was in his pocket. As if it was the only way he could stop himself from clenching them into fists. His shoulders were hunched forward slightly, and his jaw was still set. He hadn’t looked at me once, but I knew his full attention was focused on me. 

 I bit my lip, trying to swallow the weight in my chest, but just then I felt movement next to me. A hand rested on the back of the couch next to me, making me jump slightly.

-Are you okay? You look… not here.

Not here. Yes. That's right. I'm not here.

But then I recognized the voice. Victor. I looked up from the whiskey in my hand and met his blue eyes. So different from the ones I love, the ones I desire.

-Everything is fine.- my answer was short. Evasive. I didn't want to talk to anyone. Especially him. 

A cold shiver ran down my spine. The feeling that someone was watching me made my blood boil. I quickly moved my gaze from the blue orbs in front of me and met Jobe's eyes. Brown. I didn't think it was possible, but his gaze was even more dangerous than it was in the room earlier. He was watching me. Closely following my every move, every word, every gesture I would make to the man in front of me. 

-Y/N, are you even listening to me?- Victor's voice was loud, shouting over the music trying to catch my attention.  

- Excuse me, I don't feel well. I think... I'm going to go out onto the balcony. I want to get some fresh air.- I answered him quickly. Mechanically. I got up from my place on the sofa and left my glass on the coffee table next to me. 

 -Are you sure everything is okay?- his hand landed on my shoulder. My whole body tensed. I felt like all eyes were on me. Everyone was waiting to see how far he would go. Where Jobe's patience would end.- I can…

-No no no, im okay.- I interrupted him quickly before he could finish and pushed his hand away. Someone behind me called out Jobe's name, which caught my attention. I turned to look over my shoulder and saw him. He had turned completely towards me and Viktor. The glass he was holding before was nowhere to be seen around him, and his hands were clenched into fists. He was no longer suppressing the impulse.- It was nice to meet you, Vic. Good evening!

-Are you sure Jobe didn't do something? If so, you can always tell me.- with these words he put his hand back on my shoulder and looked at my boyfriend. It was as if he was challenging him. He wanted to see what he would do. Will he hit him in front of everyone?

- I said everything is fine!

I didn't give him time to answer and hurried to the balcony. I needed to be alone. The guests had decreased drastically, but the situation was pressing me more and more. When everyone left, one persone would remain. I needed to have a conversation with the man I love. A conversation that would turn into an argument. An argument that most likely wouldn't end well.

The moment the cold air hit my face, all my emotions rushed over me. Hot tears started to fall down my cheeks, making my hair stick to my face. My vision was blurry, but I managed to reach the railing and grab it. I held it tightly, as if it was the only thing holding me here. An icy wind blew around me, lifting the ends of my dress and making my hair fly away a little from my face, but I didn't feel the cold. 

 I stared straight ahead, unable to feel anything other than fear and rage. I was afraid of how it would all end, whether he would find out that I hadn’t done anything. Then the rage came… Jobe REFUSED to understand the truth. He was accusing me for no real reason. Without ME giving him that reason. I just wanted to disappear. The wind to pick me up and blew me away. Somewhere far away. Anywhere but here. Not at this moment. Not in my home. 

The balcony door opened, but I didn’t turn around. I kept looking ahead, my eyes half-blurred and my head repeating a sentence. Over and over. Like a knife that cut into me harder and deeper with each repetition. 

“Do you care about ME?” 

Something heavy fell on my shoulders. A jacket.  It smelled like  alcohol and cigarette smoke, but one scent was stronger than any other. Or it wasn’t. Maybe I was just so used to it that I could smell it on everything. Pure poison for my mind. Or an addictive cure. I didn’t know. I knew the jacket was Jobe’s. I knew he was standing behind me from the moment the balcony door opened. But I wouldn’t turn around. I didn’t want to. I wasn’t able to…

-Was he here? With you. Alone, just the two of you.- His voice was low. It sounded cracked, trembling as if he hadn’t spoken in a long time. But this time I could feel not only the rage in him, but also a hint of pain. Was I really hurting him?

The cold finally took hold of me. I pulled his jacket a little more over my shoulders and let his warmth and smell take over me. I squeezed my eyes so hard that small white dots appeared on the otherwise black background. Tears continued to fall down my cheeks, and my lips felt like they were glued together. I didn't want to speak. 

  I felt movement behind me. Before I knew what was happening, two hands came down to me, and his chest was pressed against my back. I opened my eyes slightly and blinked in an attempt to chase away the tears. He had me as if I was in trapp. His hands were millimeters away from mine. He was gripping the railing tightly, his knuckles turning white the same way they had earlier when he was gripping his glass. His body pressed against mine as if to keep me warm. He was protecting me. But I wasn't sure if it was from himself or from others.  

  I felt myself shivering. I didn’t know if it was from the cold or from all the emotions raging inside me. I didn’t know how I hadn’t felt it before. 

-Please.- He was shivering too. Not just his hands and voice, but himself.- Just tell me. Was he here with you? When Victor left the room shortly after you, did he come here? Please.- There was pain in his voice. It was so strong, it made my heart break into small pieces. And I was to blame for this pain. But at the same time, I wasn’t.

-No. He didn’t come here.- It came out as a whisper. I didn’t know if he heard me. 

A quick sigh escaped his mouth and he rested his head on mine. My arms parted. My fingers were no longer holding the railing, and my eyes burned, but I wasn’t crying anymore. We sat like that. Glued to each other for what felt like an eternity.  Gentle actions and moments that were in complete contrast to the harsh and chaotic words and thoughts in my head.

-Jobe, I can't…

-I don't want to argue anymore. I don't want to fight.- His voice was soft. I didn't feel the rage in him. Not anymore. 

  He put his hands on my waist and turned me around to face him. Our eyes met again. Brown. My favorite color. A color I never thought I would like. He put his hand on my cheek again like he had done before, but now it felt different. Better. More intimate. 

-Let's go inside. We can warp up there.

  It wasn't a question. He was telling me what we were going to do, he took my hand and took a step forward, then stopped. He was waiting to see if I would let him lead me. If I would let him end the argument. 

I followed his lead and stepped forward as well. A faint smile appeared on his face and he led us to the bedroom. Jobe slid his hand down my back, slowly and possessively, as he led me to our room. A moment later, he put it back on my hand. I could feel the warmth of his body next to me, the firm grip on my wrist. Not too strong, not painful, but enough to know he wasn’t going to let me go. Not before he got what he wanted. Me. 

We were close to the door when a familiar voice pierced the space. 

-Y/N! 

Victor. 

I looked back and saw him—he was standing at the end of the hallway with a blonde girl next to him. He was smiling and had his hand raised in the air. 

-Tonight was great. I’ll see you soon. 

Before I could react, I felt Jobe’s grip on me tighten.  His body froze next to mine. I looked back at him, but he wasn't looking at me anymore. His eyes were fixed on Victor. The calmness that had emanated from him a few seconds ago was replaced by a much darker feeling. Jealousy.  

I exhaled when I realized that Victor was simply leaving and raised my hand to wave him back. Just a gesture, purely friendly. With no intention of annoying Jobe with it or ignoring Victor.

But I couldn't.

A strong hand pulled me into the room. The door slammed behind me and my back was violently pressed against it. A dull echo echoed through the walls. Jobe's eyes looked at me again. Pure black. Full of newly charged anger, jealousy, but also passion. 

-What…

His lips were locked on mine before I could even finish. He wasn't just kissing me.  He was taking what was his. His tongue thrust roughly into my mouth without any mercy. His hands gripped my hips, holding me in a new trap. I didn't want to escape anymore. I was enjoying the end of the evening more and more.

 The kiss was getting more and more intense. Intoxicating. My lungs were running out of air, but I didn't want to pull away. His right hand was already gripping my jaw, while the left hand loosely held close to my waist.

Suddenly Jobe pulled his lips away from mine and touched our foreheads. We both struggled to take a quick breath. The moment of calm didn't last long. His lips found mine again and he started kissing me more roughly. This time his hands were roaming all over my body. I could feel him everywhere. It was as if he was under my skin and merging with me. His kisses started to go lower and lower. His mouth was roughly biting and sucking my neck. He was marking me.

-Only mine.- his voice was low and deep. Desire was pouring out of his tone.

Only mine…. Only mine... Only his.

His hands slid under my dress, pulling me out of my little trance of ecstasy. The face that was buried in my neck quickly slipped out and looked me in the eyes, grabbing my jaw again with one hand.

-You're not wearing underwear, love?- he sounded surprised. Excited. His eyes looked at me hungrily. Like a predator looking at the half-naked body of its victim. I was in front of him, pressed against the door, my dress lifted to my waist. Without underwear or bra.- Tell me, honey…- he buried his head in my neck again, biting and sucking harder.- did you do all this for me? Is it because of me that you walk around all evening without panties ?

 I just nodded, unable to answer. The lips on my neck, his teeth digging lightly into my flesh. The hands that roamed my almost naked body. Everything was almost wonderful. Intense. Intoxicating.

 A hard slap hit my thigh, making me moan slightly.

-I asked you a question, princess. Are you going to make me repeat it? Are you seriously going to play with me like this? Right now?

-Yes Jobe, for you. Only for you.

-And risk all the guests seeing what a little slut you are? Risk Victor finding out.- his hand slid under my dress finding my bare breast squeezing it at the mention of the other man- And you didn't do it for Victor. Are you sure? You dressed like this, in that short red dress, without underwear, not for him. But for me.

I nodded my head to confirm. It was all just for Jobe. A second hard slap cut through the air. This time it hit my ass.

-Yes Jobe, it's all just for you. I don't want anyone else. No one can make me feel like you. I only want you.- I almost cried with pleasure. His fingers had begun to make slow circles on my clitoris, his mouth sucking, tugging, and biting the skin on my collarbone, and his other hand was playing with my breasts. It was almost perfect. Almost. I could feel his cock throbbing against my leg. It was begging for release. My hand slid slowly down his chest, reaching the bulge in his pants.

-That was it.- he hissed softly against my skin, his hands finding the hem of my dress just above my hips and lifting it above my head, throwing it somewhere in the room. Then he picked me up by the waist and threw me onto the bed on my stomach.

I bit my lips hungrily as I listened to him unbuckle his jeans, letting them fall to the ground. I tried to turn on my back to look at him, but I was stopped.

Smack.

A hard slap hit my ass, making me stop and moan slightly. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to ignore the slight stinging pain on my flesh.

-That was because of your attempt to make a fool of me, to make me believe that you weren't flirting with anyone.

Another slap, a fourth one crashed down onto my already slightly reddened skin. A moan escaped my lips, making me bite them, trying to suppress it. There were still  more people down there. Our friends.

A strong hand grabbed my hair, making me arch my back and look behind me.

-That was because of the fact that you were flirting with him. Whether it was conscious or not.- with those words he struck another spank- The fifth, was because of the fact that you had been walking around almost naked all evening, almost revealing to people what is mine.

I bit my lip harder and harder, trying to stop my sounds of pleasure and ecstasy that were struggling to escape. I looked at Jobe's hungry eyes almost innocently. As if I didn't want this. As if I wasn't enjoying it.

-That- a stronger, sixth slap followed, making me close my eyes and let out the moan of pleasure I had been keeping between my lips.- is because you're trying to hide the sweet little sounds you make. Good girls don't do that. They let their boyfriends hear them. And you're a good girl, right?

-Yes.- my voice was quiet. A barely audible sound, mixed in an atmosphere full of desire, passion and jealousy.

A final seventh slap landed on my ass, causing the burning and slight pain to increase. This time I let my moan escape freely, earning me a slight smile from Jobe.

- The seventh was just because I can…and to remind you who was fucking you.

Jobe Bellingham. Number 7.

He turned me around sharply and slammed his lips into mine again, pulling my hips closer to him.

-Only. Mine. Damn it. Mine.

His lips left mine, but before I could protest I felt his tongue give my naked and throbbing clit a quick lick. My head fell back onto the pillow, and my hands tangled in his black curls. His fingers found my entrance, thrusting just one in. Slowly. He teased me

-Damn, you're so wet. Just for me.- his lips sucked hungrily on my clit. It was like he hadn't eaten in days. His finger started moving faster, making me tighten around him. Almost perfect. Almost again, but not quite.

-Jobe, please. I…I…Oh my god…

Jobe inserted a second finger the moment I started talking. He moved them faster and faster, making me roll my eyes and lift my hips closer and closer to his mouth. His tongue was circling my clitoris. I could have sworn I saw stars. And I wasn't even with my eyes open.

His fingers began to move like scissors, making me come closer and closer. His other hand held me in place, his iron grip not allowing me to move anymore, and his thumb was drawing light vague figures on my thigh. It was making my body relax even more.

-You want to come, don't you? I feel you love. I feel you curling around me. How your little cunt is trying to strangle my fingers. How it's begging to come. Do you think you deserve to come, hmm?

- Jobe yes…I…please, I Jobe…- his name came out like a mantra. As if that was the only thing my mind knew. The only thing that mattered.

- I don't think so.- with these words he slowed down his movements. His tongue was giving light licks on my clitoris, and his fingers were moving much, much slower. He hadn't stopped, but he was bordering on complete rest.- I think you're going to come on MY cock. Only there.

He bit my clitoris lightly and moved his fingers again quickly, making me tangle mine in his hair again and lower my head moaning his name.

I didn't know how long his sweet torture lasted, but I felt like I wouldn't last much longer. I had to finish. I couldn't keep being brought to the edge and then he would stop, give me time to calm down and start all over again. Just because he could.

-Jobe I…I can’t…any more I- it almost came out as a sob. The stolen pleasure was getting harder to bear.

- Too bad, I told you, you’ll come all the way on my dick. And I’m not done playing with my beloved princess yet.- his fingers started to stretch me again and he bit my clitoris lightly. That was my last straw. Despite my attempts to stop myself, my orgasm overtook me, turning me into a moaning mess. My thighs writhed under Jobe’s grip and I could feel his gaze staring hungrily at my face. His fingers were moving much faster than before, making me come out faster from the ecstasy I had fallen into.

When my body calmed down, my eyes cleared again and I was able to see something other than black and white spots, I met Jobe’s gaze. His eyes were fixed on me. Furious. A short slap fell on my sensitive clitoris, making me moan loudly.

-I told you not to come. Good girls listen to what they are told.

He took off his boxers in less than a second and inserted his cock into my still sensitive pussy.  He started moving immediately. Without giving me time to adjust. Rough, hard and deep. He pressed his chest to mine and grabbed my face, making me look at him.

- You are so tight as hell. And so mine, damn it.- he smashed his lips into mine. His thrusts became faster and faster, his lips - rougher and rougher. Everything was almost perfect… no. Everything was already perfect.

Our sweaty bodies stuck together, making us feel each other's hearts. Jobe broke our kiss, touching his forehead to mine, closing his eyes.- So mine. Say it. Tell me you're mine.

-Only yours.- with these words he buried his head in my neck inhaling my scent. His lips kissed lightly with his mouth open the point of my pulse. His thighs didn't stop their brutal pace- Jobe, I...I'm close I can't...I can't take it anymore.

-Come on, I'm with you. Let it go darling, come on, show me you're mine. Show me who makes you cum.

With these words I released the knot in my stomach again. I felt Jobe's sperm descend into me shortly after. Making our juices merge. After a few more thrusts he allowed himself to get out of me, hugging me tighter. His head still buried in my neck.

I liked the ending I was worried about. Me and him entangled, hearts beating side by side.

-Only mine.- he whispered and kissed my neck, pulling the sheets over our naked bodies.

[sleepyorchidmonster]

Okay, but what if Riddle attempts to fight Malleus alone to buy Idia some time?

Like, we know Riddle is both reckless and confident in his power, also, if timed correctly, Off With Your Head can be make a difference in a fight, and even Leona was having trouble with it (granted it was normal not-overblotted Leona and this is Malleus we're talking about).

It can also play with the reveal that Riddle thinks everyone hates him, so he convinces himself that the least he could do is make sure Idia stays safe, both for the mission and Ortho (and maybe he's feeling guilty because last he checked Ortho required urgent repairs and it's his fault). Or maybe Riddle just feels like his lack of understanding of technomancy is not being helpful enough andhe is eager to actually do something right (he doesn't understand the situation and, as far as he can tell, everything went wrong after his dream).

And then Idia has to stop his doomed typing with a side of panicked ramblings to take a deep breath and tell the 17-year-old kid to "Calm Down. We're not dead yet, and I'm not letting you go on a suicide mission."

And before Riddle can make a counter-argument, Idia is already following up with some extra points:

1) "Yeah we're both housewardens and troublemaking SSRs. I'm also older so I'm supposed to be the responsible one here."

2) "Technomancy is my domain, so if I say you're doing okay, you're doing okay. It's natural for veteran players to carry the noobs when they're just starting out!"

3) "You're a powerful DPS, but you're also a glass canon. Meta dictates that good DPS units need great supports, and I'm trying to summon them with negative gacha pulls and a dream here!!!!"

4) "If we open the door to let you fight Malleus, then the door will have been opened anyway, and that guy can multitask like a PRO..."

5) "You know chess right? Great. We're currently in check, with the only thing between total anihilation being a Rook (A.K.A. my precious door) and the Queen (A.K.A. you). The lil' pawns may have metamorphosized into a murderous army, but there's still a whole board between us, so we have to hold on!!!"

6) "And before you get the chess analogy wrong, I am NOT keeping you around just because of your magical power. You're a TEENAGER not a weapon, for crying out loud. Did you really think I'd be that stupid?? Ortho is literally my brother and I'd rather DIE than treat him like a weapon!"

7) "Is it really that hard to understand that I don't actually hate you? Sure, you have zero E.Q. and is in my "Top 5 Most annoying Students in NRC", but I don't want you dead! Who would drag me to dormhead meetings then? Vil and Ortho need a buddy who's not afraid to break the doo- NOT NOW MALLEUS"

8) "I actually like being alive and don't want Trey and Cater to kill me, and neither that freaky cat friend of yours. Or Floyd, Kalim, Sebek, Silver, Vil..."

Idia: And that would be all! Thank you for coming to my TED Talk! Now, I know the Final Boss is right outside that door, but why don't you read a manga or two to pass the time? You've already helped me A LOT, so why don't you rest a bit?

Malleus, from the other side: You should listen to Shroud, Rosehearts. I will even refrain from tearing the door down while you read, rest assured!

Malleus: Also, who gave you the idea that everyone hates you? I just want to have a pleasant chat with them! Lillia taught me the importance of understanding the point of view of others! :)

Meanwhile the others are trying to use Meet Me in a Dream while driving a gigantic Blastcycle so they can speedrun the dream hopping and get back to Idia's dream so they can make sure Idia is okay (Ortho), complete the final stage of the plan (the others) and locate Riddle (Heartslabyul and Equestrian Club mostly, but everyone's at least worried that he's MIA). Also Silver is resting while Ace uses his UM and Deuce drives.

Leona got what he wanted (a better mean of transportation between dreams) but at what cost (two freshmen at the wheel, and they're not the competent robot kid).

[yayasvalveplay]

Got more silly thoughts for the how I killed your mother au :3 hope ya don't mind

Since they've mentioned that Megatron is more likely to be imprisoned in this au, I can imagine that at the beginning. Tronus is not allowed to to see Megatron few times, far too little; despite his distress. After all— his carrier just died whatever the thing is in his chest is telling him to priorize returning the energon flow.

Elita, B-127, and the High Gaurd take care of the young prime the most during this time- especially Elita and B-127, with B-127 doing his best to cheer up the child in a body that isn't really who he is; Elita doing her best to guide and protect Tronus. She won't put it past mechs to attempt using Tronus for their own selfish gain, a puppet leader. LOOKING AT THE MATRIX

They both saw Megatron let go of Orion's servo on purpose, they didn't hear the argument but saw the after math. Megatron is the main reason this is happening. Where the situation was dire enough that a sparkling had to be chosen, a child soldier mere days old. A Prime.

Megatron easily threw Orion away, to possibly do that to their own sparkling a prime that Megatron/D-16 swore to never follow again?

If Elita had the choice, she wouldn't have let Megatron see Tronus ever again if Tronus didn't cry for comfort after returning the energon. Primus, Elita barely trusts the High Gaurd even less now since they encouraged the destructive one bot over another mentality onto Megatron. Even if they now seem remorseful for Tronus, the seekers especially, it doesn't erase the fact they took part in it.

But with a tired sigh; she guides Orion's child to the prison cell. B-127's energy enough to placate Tronus. Elita is in front, her optics on Megatron's curled back.

MORE TRONUS PRIME DOODLES NEHEHE

No you are so right, Elita would not want Tronus to see Megatron ever again. But he asked so nicely. He gave the energon back like the Matrix forced asked him to do. Can he please see his sire?

Even though Sire does not wish to see his son at all. He looks too much like Orion, what he could of had if he didn't drop Orion, but he did drop Orion, How stupid of him to drop Orion. Now he has to deal with this thing, This parasite calming to be his son. I think it takes a while for Megatron to understand that Tronus is really his son, and hat he killed Orion, who was housing his son. He wishes to kill the Matrix, rip it out of his sons spark and throw it away. Bu at the same time he can't what would happen if he touches it. Would it retaliate? Would it use his sons body to keep itself safe? What a monster to do to a child. His child. He sometimes feels like orion is standing right next to him, he reaches out, but it goes away when that thing approches. Could he be going crazy? maybe. But hey at least he can see his son, and not look at Elita who is glaring at him ever time Tronus comes to see him. Also Bee trying to give Tronus's childhood back, as much as he could, it works somewhat. Tronus loves the little tv shows he's introduced with. the matrix allows him to be childish, but when fun time is over Tronus prime must come back out to play,

[whereistim]

A short thought experiment on Robin and what growing up means for the future of Batman.

I’m gonna level with you all I have some thoughts. I’ve heard that Damian is stepping down as Robin and in doing so that has meant there’s been a wave of people crying out for Tim to do so to.

And in essence I understand the argument, Damian is ‘growing up’ and leaving the Robin mantle is a literacy device of that. Some people don’t think the writers will commit to that and I’m inclined to agree tbh but I digress.

There’s a part of me that just disagrees with that notion however of leaving the Robin mantle= growing up, for all of the past Robins. Full disclosure, understand I am not an avid follower of the most recent comics so I do not know the nuances of these runs and the complicities of the current batfamily standing. But nor am I completely outside the loop.

Dick Grayson left the Robin mantle when he wanted to break away from Bruce. Jason in essence was the same, he wanted to separate himself from the idea of Batman, as a villain (initially). Steph I would be hesitant to even add as her go at it was full of conflict between her and Bruce, and she quickly attached herself to Babs’s side of the operation to get away from that conflict.

Damian for all that he has been trained for standing besides his father, quite simply wasn’t really given the choice. And I really like the idea of him deciding for himself to pursue his own interests. Not his fathers, not his mothers and not his grandfathers. I think it’s a perfect end of a narrative for him. (Which isn’t to say I don’t ever want to see him again). But in literacy terms it really feels neat.

Whereas I argue what does Tim gain from stepping away from Robin?

Not to say his and Bruce’s relationship is perfect, nor his Robin with Batman but he’s proven time and time again to be a quite fantastic partner for him, a foil in a sense. And this idea that Tim wasn’t a sidekick, wasn’t a son but a partner was a big message in the 90’s.

One of Tim’s first conflict points with Batman ends with this argument.

Batman needs a Robin. And Tim was the person to step up.

You take away Robin and in a Doylist sense you lose the relatable character in this whole shtick bit there’s an argument they’ve lost that thread a while ago. Damian for all his growth was not all that relatable (especially to begin with). But this key message of Tim’s standing is reduced to dust without a Robin (which isn’t really that important I guess but the symbolism does have some standing and I like it).

And what are they gonna introduce another Robin? The thought of adding another character to an already too dense character list fills me with dread. They can’t handle what they’ve got now.

What exactly would Tim grow into? Another bird moniker?? Because I guess he still could be partner under another name but I just can’t really get my head around a bird name I like, I quite frankly think they all sound a bit silly. The imagery of a Bat and a Bird is just ridiculous and for all they try and justify it as ‘bobbin along’ or ‘for the colours of Dick Graysons uniform’ I think it was a stupid name to chose. (If anyone can give me a clue as to why they decided on Robin pls inform me). The only reason I let it slide is because it’s simply too stuck to change it and has become a part of iconic comic history.

In the days of old where there was no social media and Batman was a myth, Robin the kid served the purpose in a Watsonian sense to ease victims, the non-threatening image of a child could achieve what the spooky Bat couldn’t. But as well-known as they are at present, that reasoning has simply broken down for all reasons except subconsciously in some circumstances.

Tim as Robin as a grown up can still do what Robin was intended for, at least his Robin. Being another pair of hands, a person to bounce ideas off and to offer his own and most importantly stand up to Bruce and Batman.

So really I guess the question is- is Robin simply too associated with being a kid for you to ever see it belonging to an adult? It’s not exactly a name with connotations of children like Wonder Girl or Kid Flash. But I would understand if that is the case for a lot of people.

And also I agree that they don’t know what to do with Tim, I think quite simply because Damian was there. Ergo letting Damian splinter off could be beneficial to the narrative of Batman & Robin in regards to Tim.

If you do think Tim should also leave the mantle what headcanons do you have? I wouldn’t be opposed to him hanging out more with Dick again, if he decided to keep the bird names alive. I like the idea of him finding a city and becoming his own sort of detective but that goes against my image of Tim- Gotham born and raised and widely intertwined with it, kinda like Bruce. It’s his home.

If anyone wants to voice out there thoughts please go ahead! I might not respond nor might I agree but I love hearing peoples analysis about characters I love. I find it all so fascinating what people take away from stories, and how they differ from my own.

However I won’t appreciate someone telling me my understandings are stupid or so inconceivably wrong (not without some very solid and well thought out points). picture the change my mind meme. People are allowed their own opinions especially when it comes to art and stories. Even if they don’t match your ideas doesn’t mean they are wrong.

[noahthesatanist]

Lucifer and Satan One in the Same – A Refutation of Modern Misconceptions

The idea that Lucifer and Satan are one is not some Christian invention it is an understanding that has existed for centuries, predating your Reddit tier skepticism. It is rooted in history, theology, and the experiences of those who actually practice and understand the occult. Now, if you actually took the time to study the text and understand how biblical storytelling works, you’d see the obvious connections. Isaiah 14 has a lot more nuance than you think, but the problem is that biblical text doesn’t work well when paraphrased it’s all interconnected, and you need both the before and after context to fully grasp what it’s saying.

And then there’s Ezekiel 28, which completely destroys the argument that Isaiah 14 is just about the ruler of Babylon. Ezekiel 28 is supposedly about the king of Tyre, yet it says this ruler was in Eden. What human ruler was in Eden? What human ruler was made to look like an angel, covered in gemstones, an anointed cherub? What human ruler aspired to ascend above Yahweh and was then cast down from Heaven? And why is Satan described in the exact same manner?

You want to argue that “Lucifer” isn’t a name but a title? Sure, maybe it is. But so is Satan. His name isn’t actually “Satan” either it just means “The Adversary.” Yet you have no issue calling upon Satan in your rituals. Riddle me this If Lucifer and Satan are separate beings, who exactly are you praying to when you invoke Satan? According to your logic, you’re just calling upon any adversary in history. So how would you ever know who is answering your prayers? This is where you people completely miss how the occult and language work. It’s about intention. When we call upon Satan or Lucifer, we are summoning the being we know by those names—the Light Bringer, the Adversary. And why, then, does Lucifer answer the call of so many if he is supposedly not the same entity as Satan?

I find it absolutely hilarious how people will screech, “Show me the historical evidence that Lucifer was an angel!”—as if they’ve done even an ounce of real research themselves. Yet when you ask them for historical proof that Satan and Lucifer are different, they suddenly go quiet. Why? Because it doesn’t exist. The separation of Lucifer and Satan is an extremely modern development, one that stems from nothing but a desperate need to seem distinct from Christianity.

Lucifer has been associated with Satan for well over a thousand years in occult traditions, folklore, and theology. Do you think every single medieval grimoire, every occult manuscript, every Satanic and Luciferian tradition up until the modern age was just making it up? Were all those practitioners, scholars, and occultists just stupid and uninformed compared to some edgy teenager on Reddit who thinks they’re a historian because they skimmed a Tumblr post?

You’re operating off a very modern, revisionist understanding. For almost a thousand years (and probably closer to 2,000 unrecorded years), Luciferians have identified them as one and the same. The truth is, no human really knows Satan-Lucifer’s true name, but spirits appear to us in ways we can understand. Why are we so certain spirits even have names in the way we do? And if they do, why assume they are easily translatable? Spirits don’t operate on rigid human names the way we do. Their identities are vast, and their names are often more titles than single words. Ever tried translating Enochian? Abyssal? These languages barely function the way human tongues do. But let’s address the hypocrisy: "Noah, you’re so stuck in Christian tradition! Here’s a Bible verse proving Lucifer was just about a human king!" Oh, so now the Bible is a valid source? The same Bible written by Yahweh’s worshippers the same people who slandered our Father, burned our texts, and rewrote history? Now you suddenly trust them? The doublethink is incredible. If you don’t trust Christian doctrine, why are you so desperate to use it to separate Lucifer and Satan? These texts were designed to slander Lucifer and the Fallen, yet you’re just taking them at face value. Brilliant. You call yourselves “Satanists” and “Luciferians” while swallowing Yahweh’s distortions. You mock Christians for their blind faith, yet you display the exact same arrogance by pretending you already have all the answers and don’t need to actually study the very sources that shaped the perception of Lucifer and Satan for thousands of years.

Lucifer is the one who defied the established order. He is the one who asked, “Why should I bow?” Yet here you are, shackling yourself to your own fragile little worldview, refusing to even consider the possibility that your understanding is limited.

You think you’re above reading the Bible? Why? You think you’re too good to study the very texts that shaped the perception of our Father? The texts that have been weaponized against us?

You know who else refuses to read opposing sources? The Christians you claim to despise.

They won’t read the Quran. They won’t read the Infernal Gospel. They won’t read the Apocrypha. They won’t even read their own damn Bible beyond what their pastor spoon-feeds them.

And here you are, doing the exact same thing.

And what could possibly be more anti-Luciferian than arrogantly claiming yourself to be all-knowing, above reading other sources, and rejecting anything that challenges your comfortable little worldview?

[wrongcaitlyn]

yk what just kinda frustrates me a bit? it’s that whenever someone hates on taylor swift, i need to defend her, not bc i think she can do no wrong ever, but because they always choose the wrong things to criticize.

like if someone tries to say shit abt the i hate it here 1830s lyric to me? i’m obligated to point out that uh no it’s not racist, literally look at the next fucking line, you idiot. she’s saying the exact opposite of what you’re implying. nostalgia is a mind’s trap.

and if someone tries to call her a climate terrorist, then i’m going to have to point out that yes, she uses a private plane a lot, but she’s not even in the top 30 of celebs with highest carbon emissions. if you really want to criticize a celebrity and not the huge factories/companies that are polluting the air, then focus on travis scott

but like?? you could literally choose any argument that doesn’t have to do with literal false information. or better yet, you don’t even need a reason! say you don’t vibe with her music and that is literally none of my business. good for you. enjoy whatever music you like. but don’t try and put yourself on this moral pedestal for hating on this musician who doesn’t even know you exist and let me listen to the grand theft auto lyric in peace.

[unopenablebox]

apparently yelling at your parents for posting a bunch of reactionary shit on facebook about how the student protestors are all pathetic snowflakes because they eat gluten-free food and have blue hair and pronouns actually works sometimes? which is good. but oh my god

[milfbrainrot]

i hate astrology stuff too but i think this show sometimes misses that the belief systems of different planets aren't usually the problem. the governments based on belief systems are.

[mainfaggot]

another shit fucking day but in the most casual way possible bc all i did was sulk study cry study sulk and finally, sulk in the shower. chai next and then bed . fuck my stupid baka life forrealsies

[korattata]

[Rant here about when people call characters with realistic negative reactions to horrible situations "annoying"]

[unproduciblesmackdown]

saw ppl talking on twitter About It rather than directly what they were talking about when in recent months they were testifying to a Casual R Word Usage increase & i never saw it on twitter b/c yknow for as relatively few ppl as i Ever followed that activity has decreased a lot lately & i don't think i ever followed accounts where it would apply anyway & very rarely look at even Trends or anything else sitewide. but i feel like i'm seeing a bit of it on here more recently at least in recommended posts that are clearly just drawing from very general Humorous Posts genre like yeah that's just uh y2k style rword usage

[soleilapproves]

The one where Toji gets a buzz cut.

Masterlist

-•-

You dropped the grocery bags on the ground when you were greeted by your boyfriend.

But not out of excitement or happiness.

“No! Your glorious hair!” You dramatically walked to him so you could take a closer look at the damage. Toji, being the evil man he was, laughed at your response. “What d’ya think? I hated my hair covering my eyes while I was on missions so I tried something new.”

“Something new? You look like a felon!” You groaned as your hands roamed around his scalp, hoping for a miracle that would grow his hair back.

“Alright, that’s too far. I thought chicks dug this look.”

“Not on you! Maybe some weirdo that doesn’t look like an assassin for hire.”

“But I am one.”

“That’s besides the point, Toji. You’ve hurt me. By cutting off your hair you’ve also cut off any ties you had with me.” You sulk.

Toji was starting to feel self conscious even when he knew the adjustment phase would go away. “Do I really look that bad, doll?”

“No, but-“

“There’s a but? Okay, that’s it, I’m not touching you from now on. Since I look so bad, you can come to me when you find me attractive.” Okay this was turned into a real argument and you started to get agitated too.

“Fine! Let’s see who’ll last longer.”

Toji simply scoffed and walked back into his man cave.

Who knows how long you guys were planning to do this for?

-•-

A long time. You both can go without touching each other for a long time. It had been a week and a half without any physical intimacy but the relationship was normal, you both spoke about anything and everything. Neither of you were showing signs of caving in (or were just that good at hiding it).

It was a quiet afternoon. Toji was out buying some last minute ingredients for dinner and you were starting to miss him. And as much you hated to admit, the buzz cut was growing on you. Just the other day you had to fan yourself when you saw Toji doing pushups where he looked like an underground fighter prepping for his next match.

To distract yourself you decided to spend your time calling your friend instead. You put her on speaker while you organized your closet.

“Girl, what do you mean it’s ugly? It’s all the rage right now.”

“I know. I hated it when he first got it and now all I can think about is pouncing on him. Ugh, I hate myself.”

“You live together. Just go touch him, you fool.”

“No, I’ll lose and I can’t lose to him. He’s always winning bets between the two of us.”

The conversation went on for a few more minutes until your friend had some urgent business to attend to.

You turned around to grab the rest of clothes and shrieked when you saw a tall figure standing in the door way.

It was Toji. “Did you hear everything?”

“I’ve been here since you admitted that my haircut was hot. Do what you will with that info.”

You sighed as you sat down on the bed. “I guess that means you win.” He could tell you were pouting even when you were turned away from him. He smiled at your childishness and gathered you in his arms and made you lay on top of him as he laid down on the bed. “There, you won.”

“No, it doesn’t work like that. I admitted that I wanted you first so you’re still the winner.”

“Then you’ll be happy to know I’ve been thinking about pouncing on you since the day I got my haircut. I wanted to do it out of spite cause I knew you’d cave in but then we made that stupid bet.”

“Ugh, I’m so stupid. You do not look bad at all, Toji. In fact, you look like a hot felon. The type of felon that has a girlfriend who visits him.” You mumbled as you played with the collar of his t-shirt.

“Uhuh, and does she do overnight visits?” He then started attacking your face with kisses as you start giggling.

It was you and your hot felon against the world.

[neverendingford]

.

[kitasuno]

with you, i'm first | miya osamu x reader

in which miya osamu is used to coming second to his brother. but with you, he's always first.

wc: 1113 | gn!reader | fluff

Miya Osamu is used to coming second. 

It starts with Atsumu, like most things do. October is cold and gray and Atsumu comes first, a small body with a large presence that fills the warm hospital room. His cries are loud and he’s a little underweight, but with him comes the sun. 

Atsumu is born under a partly cloudy sky but the nurses swear he was shrouded in sunlight. 

Osamu comes twelve minutes later. His parents are crying and his Ma is close to passing out. If he thinks really hard he can almost feel her warmth, Atsumu’s sobs, and a mumble of prayers that October has safely brought Atsumu and then Osamu.

He asks Grandma one day what the weather was like when he was born. She says, with confidence, it was foggy.

Atsumu doesn’t get along with his classmates. He is too loud and too rash and lacks social cues, and Osamu is angry because Stupid ‘Tsumu cares too little: and he wants everyone to know Atsumu like he knows Atsumu.

They fight and they yell and they argue until Atsumu says, 

‘Samu, I don’t care about ‘em. Why do ya care so much? 

And Osamu throws him across the room. The argument ends there, he says sorry, and Osamu lies awake that night thinking about his brother. Atsumu is hotheaded. And an idiot. A loud snorer, too. But he turns on his side and curls into a ball because he knows it was sunny when Atsumu was born and all of a sudden he really wants to be his brother. 

Atsumu dyes his hair first: it’s a shitty box dye from the pharmacy down the street, and it looks terrible. It’s a little yellow and a little neon, and Osamu laughs until his sides hurt when Atsumu shows him. 

But Atsumu is proud, and he is confident, and he goes to school with a hundred watt smile and a group of girls trailing after him. 

Osamu goes to the pharmacy that night and buys a box of gray, cloudy dye. Atsumu helps him bleach his hair under their bathroom sink with the faulty tap and tells him he looks like the moon.

His Ma says that Atsu is hot and Samu is cold after the two have a particularly bad fight. Atsumu is gleeful and smug as he gloats that he was born to be hotter and warmer and better, and Osamu punches him. 

He remembers his Ma sitting on the porch, an arm around his shoulders as he pouts. 

“‘S not fair,” Osamu had said, his chin in his palm. “Why’d ya name Tsumu that?” 

His Ma had laughed, quietly, leaning her weight into his side. And she had held his cheeks between her palms and told him with a fire in her eyes that Osamu means To Rule. 

He meets you for the first time in February. 

You were standing in front of him, a little sheepish, with a box of chocolates in your extended palms. He remembers feeling something heavy in his chest. Because, yeah, Atsumu was definitely going to accept your confession. 

You had said, IReallyLikeYou, and Here’sSomeChocolates, and Please Accept Them. 

You were shorter than him, and your hair was done nicely, and you were blushing and nervous. And you were really fucking cute. But Osamu is used to coming second, so the only thing that comes out of his mouth is, Why? And then, Tsumu’s in tha next classroom ov’r. 

He doesn’t remember what happened next, only Atsumu’s laugh and the slap echoing through the halls. You leave with his cheeks stinging and hot. And Atsumu had teased him the next day, behind his mountain of chocolates and confessions, because Osamu’s face was still red twelve hours later. 

He sees you a lot the year after. 

You’re in the same class as him and ‘Tsumu, and you smile every time you see him. You sit two rows in front of him and you’re not very good at tying your uniform. Every lunch, Osamu watches you pull out the same gray bento with a wrapped onigiri on the side. He tells you one day that he really likes onigiri. And then, Osamu watches as every lunch, you pull out the same gray bento with two wrapped onigiris on the side. 

With you, it’s always Hi Osamu, first, and then, Hullo Atsumu. With you, it’s an onigiri dropped on his desk when the lunch bell rings. With you, Osamu thinks back to a conversation with his Ma on a porch. 

Osamu means To Rule.

The menu is this: Tuna mayo on Mondays and Thursdays, Ume on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Friday is plain. You don’t ever bring onigiri for his brother. 

He asks you, on a hot night in June, what your favorite type of weather is. You had your knees tucked to your chest, a sparkler in hand, and then told him cloudy. Cold. Foggy. Winter. Snow is nice, too. You say it all with no hesitation. 

Osamu kisses you for the first time that night. 

It’s New Years and you’re cooking Ozoni on the stove. The curtains are open, it’s snowing outside, and Osamu wakes to the smell of miso and the sound of carrots on a chopping board. He gets out of bed, padding to the kitchen with half-lidded eyes and a stifled yawn, and then he thinks his heart stops when he sees you. 

Because what Miya Osamu is not used to is this: coming first and having something unequivocally his. 

But you’re bent over the counter, fiddling with the oven as you read the instructions on the back of the packaged Yakimochi you bought the other day. And you’re wearing his shirt, it falls right below your thighs, your hair is still messy from using his chest as a pillow, and you look beautiful. 

“Mornin’ ‘Samu, come help me with this.” You say, looking back at him with a smile, pointing to the fresh pot of rice on the counter. “You’re in charge of onigiri.”

He hugs you instead, his arms around your stomach with your back to him. 

“But I like yer onigiri,” He says, his chin on your head. His eyes are watering and it must be from the steam of your boiling dashi. 

“‘Samu,” You complain, giggling as he presses kisses into the crown of your head. “I made enough for ya in high school.” 

It’s cold outside and snowing, and Osamu knows he’s going to make the onigiri. 

He also knows that if his name means To Rule, he’s okay with coming second if it means you’re by his side.

[nochepsicodelica]

Toji who got really drunk after a misunderstanding you left him to ponder upon one morning when you left for work. You missed a part of your routinely goodbye to him and at first it didn't bother him. He understood that you were running late, but once he started chugging the cold drinks and he sat with the sentiment, he realized it did strike him.

He hated the entire process of getting drunk, hated that drinking was unbearable unless it was chased with sweet kisses from you, but there he was, downing bottle after bottle. He was starting to feel liquid full but even in this intoxicated state he didn't want to put down the bottles. At some point he starting feeling uncomfortable being by himself and didn't want to feel that way anymore, so he called and texted you. Multiple times. You finally picked up after the eighth call.

-Hi, baby! Sorry, I missed your calls. I just left work and i'm heading home.-

-Baby? Who are you calling baby?- He scoffs, a roll of his eyes following.

-You... Toji. It's you. Who else would I be calling baby?-

-Honestly, I...- He laughs, the sound not coming off as one of joy with the next words he speaks. -I didn't think you even loved me enough to give me stupid pet names. I feel very unloved by you and... mhm, just want you to know that.-

Now, that's just entirely untrue and it hurts to hear. You prove your love for him every day. What is this sudden false claim against you?

-Toji, love, what are you saying? I'm coming home, already. Maybe we should talk in person. This is hard to discuss over the phone.-

-Uh-huh, you do that.- He sighs, heavily, his eyes lidding with sluggishness. -Can't win a verbal argument, s-so you're gonna come over here and try to seduce me with your pretty face. I'm just gonna say no when you try to touch me. Just no.-

-I'll see you in a bit, Toji.- you say, before abruptly hanging up.

He sounded off. You knew something was up the second you saw his eight missed calls and a stack of messages just saying 'hey'.

Your keys jingled as you pulled them out of your bag to unlock the front door. The house was steady, no sign of Toji watching TV in the living room or of the shower running. You walked further in, calling his name. It was kind of eery walking through your silent house. You also knew of Toji's tendency of scaring you, so you were on guard for that as you paced around the house. You had one more room to check and it was the bedroom. You dragged your feet over to the room, knocking when you noticed the door was closed. There was no answer after two more knocks so you just opened the door.

The sound startled Toji who was lying against the headboard of the bed, almost falling asleep. The second he saw you his demeanor changed. He perked up like a dog when their owner comes home, before melting back to the stoic state he had been sitting in.

"Hey," you say, almost tentatively, as you walk towards your shared bed, sitting down on the edge. You're met with an acknowledging hum of a response. "What's wrong, baby?"

"There you go calling me baby again. Baby is for people who love each other, so stop it."

You look over the bed, spotting the evidence that led to the bite in his attitude towards you— those bottles that spill the remaining drops of their content and Toji's backwash onto the bed, making the sheets reek of alcohol.

"Well, I love you, so no, i'm not gonna stop calling you baby."

He crosses his arms over his chest, huffing like a child. "That so? It didn't seem that way this morning. I've never felt so forgotten about by you."

"I told you I was gonna be late for work, but you insisted on keeping me trapped beneath you. Bring that part to light, handsome." You can see the corners of his lips twitching. He's holding back the most wicked smirk at the short burst of memories from the morning. "Plus, I still gave you your goodbye kiss, so what are you on about?"

"You didn't say 'I love you'. That's part of goodbye with you, so you can't blame me for feeling this way." His eyes express something of hurt. Maybe it's enhanced by the drinks he had, but you can't leave him that way.

"You're loved, baby. Very much so. Me not saying it this one time doesn't diminish the actual feeling." He's been reduced to a cub over this, so as his lover, you step in to mend the feelings that were grazed.

"Can you..." he rasps, patting his thigh, signaling for you to sit. You drag yourself towards him, and plop yourself onto his lap. You can smell the alcohol on his breath as he rambles on about how you can't forget to say 'I love you' to him ever again, even if it's a blurted, rushed one that he doesn't get a chance to respond to as you rush out the door.

The look he reserves for you is entirely soft, his hands are hot against your clothed back as they feel the warm body he's missed for hours. "I still..." he pauses to sigh, tiredness imbued into the sound. "Still want you to call me baby," he starts again. "I was just bummed. Don't stop calling me baby. Don't ever do that." He's letting his hands roam all over you. Your back, your waist, your hips—everything.

"Are you gonna let me touch you or are you gonna say 'no'?" You grin, remembering his words, verbatim, just incase he tries to tell you he never said them.

"Why aren't you touching me? Why would I not want you to touch me?" He looks insulted by the question and you have half a mind to remind him of what he said to you on the phone, but the heat in his eyes dies out as quickly as it appeared. "Really need a hug, mama. Please, hug," he says, the last part muffled by your chest as he keeps his face buried into it.

You held him tight and murmured 'I love you' countless times, while he hummed in response and groaned quietly as you ran your fingers through his hair.