#i'll need one but i just got no clue

[mikodrawnnarratives]

Second pass at young kira, which imma start calling CASPIAN cuz im trying to add more elements to her that make her MY OWN oc rather than a rewritten character. She's not quite there yet but I think she's getting there as I plan out my rewrite.

Not that it matters tooo much since when I write this story it's going on ao3 but i'd like to make her as original as i can

anyway kira in my rewrite very intentionally hides the parts of her that make her identity as half werewolf half vampire obvious, including her white hair she got from her mother. Still working out the kinks to that part of her character but it's something that she bonds with August over! Hair dye. August keeps his roots (and hair in general) very blonde, avoiding becoming a dirty blonde as long as possible, while kira hides her other hair color.

I like playing around with what blue, purple, and red could symbolize in Kira's character and stages in her life so you can see me experimenting with that. Brighter more vibrant blues are for Kira before her life was changed for the worse. Ashy gray is for when she's not her happiest, regardless of the stage in her life, ash gray blue for when her parents were killed, and vibrant red is similar but for her life afterwords, the hairpins being the exception (as of now. might try to get clever with em later). Eventually I think I'll draw her future design that settles in between with a lovely purple, maybe leaning on the red, but without the ash. BUUTTT we'll see.

first pass at Young Kira redesign below

Experimented with her uniform, kept her messy hair covering her eyes, and i think i kept the same colors? I also gave her face more of a square look, more shapes in general and I think i accomplished making her look younger

ALSO

INCORPORATING DIFFERENT NOSE i like it

[tagarilaghost]

I SWEAR CELEBI'S THINGY IS COMING SOON BUT I REALLY WANTED TO POST THIS ALRIGHT

yeaah... future trio got me too...

and Darkrai is there too, because of course he is.

hey look i drew a cute Drifloon :D

...ignore the rest

whatever started at Darkrai doodles ended in brainrot of future trio + darkrai and I'm blaming @scribz-ag24 for this

[agapestricken]

margaret atwood, alias grace; slightly modified to say 'her' instead of 'his.'

[emmybeearts]

What a lovely couple :)

Request for @we-dont-talk-about-potato-nonono of their lovely OC’s (Click for better resolution)

[onrainynights]

the fact that I might be about to go from being almost completely financially dependent on my parents to being able to support myself fully is unbelievable like. what. how did I get here. I'm not complaining by any means but part of me honestly thought I'd never get to be independent and if I get this promotion I WILL cry about it. oh my god.

[tmblrog]

the best part of being a functional alcoholic is that no one knows im a functional alcoholic. hell yeah i'll finish off the rest of your beer! thats probably the fifth one i've had today! hell yeah people blame any odd behavior on my mental and physical disabilities and offer me sympathy drinks! hell yeah i'll probably die before im 25 but at least it'll be fun!

[drysauce]

how do i say wyjebałem się na ostatniej prostej in english

[ravenousarts]

Got to paint my new fender today and I'm super happy with how it came out :)

[lordsardine]

.

[eraserbread]

MEAN NANAMI, I BEG. He's so annoyed with his wife!! I'm talking hair pulling, (loving) slaps, all of it. I need you to write this I think It'll save me

i'm taking any reason to make kento call u nanami baby, im not sorry. also... who let her out of the house? (≖_≖ )

kento's in from work, exhausted to the bone, and thoroughly peeved. it's a long story, and he doesn't want to think about it anymore, so the first thing he does is phone his savior.

"dear?" he calls when you aren't at his beck and call immediately. the house was quiet... a bit too quiet for his liking. there isn't any comforting music playing, no comforting smell of dinner on the stove, and more gravely -- there's no you.

but, he gives it another try.

"nanami, baby?" silence. he's fuming.

that's all it took, now the straw is broken over the camel's back.

in your defense, you didn't think he'd be home right at 6. he usually takes his time on his commute back, but he got off a bit early today and didn't tell you. it's your biggest mistake to date. you failed at the one thing he expected of you.

so, you are definitely thoroughly surprised and a bit flustered when you come back home in the car he bought you, flushed from rushing home from a friends place, to see him right in the entryway, fist tightened against the handle of his briefcase.

"ken, i'm so sor-

"hope whatever kept you so long was worth it."

"it was just-" you pause, turning around to click the door shut and locked. with your back turned you make a small, pained face. he drops his briefcase.

"i'm waiting for the excuse..."

"i just got caught up at my friends, we started watching a show and I... i wasn't paying attention to the clock. i should've been home hours ago, I know. I'm so sorry, I'll get right to working on dinner, let me just..." you're all over the place, sliding off your own shoes and shedding your outside clothes. the only thing on your mind was 'what can I make him that takes the least amount of time?'

salad? no. ken would be even more pissed if you handed him a plate of raw vegetables and called it dinner.

omlettes? stew? chicken?

a million options come to mind, and you're not even thinking when you pass right by him and into the kitchen to begin. he just... watches you, shifting so he can keep a constant, deep glare on your back.

"hope you're not forgetting anything." he bites, then drops his briefcase, making quick work of his tie.

then, it fucking dawns on you and you're scurrying over your feet to help him shed his day away. but, you're too late. he already has his fingers tangled in the buttons on his shirt and isn't even looking at you anymore.

yeah, you're an idiot.

so, he has you by the hair, huge fist wrapped tight as he walks you to the bedroom. it's hard -- impossible, really, to keep up with him, so he's doing most of the dragging.

"i hope you see just how upset i am with you." though he's seemingly upset, his voice is still as soft as a whisper, clueing you into the fact that he doesn't actually hate you, but he'd fuck you like he did.

"i know, i'm so sorry. so-

"shut up." he doesn't even flex the single arm that sends you stumbling into the bedroom, needing to steady yourself across the footboard. it's still unmade from this morning, too. your stomach drops.

"just what have you been doing all day?"

he wants an answer. he expects an answer.

"I just - I..."

he waits, raised eyebrows and expressionless. you swallow back a lump, holding your breath as you try and gather your thoughts.

"surely you weren't at her house all day?"

"it was a high school friend, I had to." now, you're begging. for him, for mercy, for more. all of it. ken never gets too mad at you -- not like this. you can see it in his once-kind, welcoming eyes. they're shadowed.

"present yourself to me over the side of the bed." he begins, looking down as he pulls his belt off, whipping it through the loops and letting it drop in a shattering clang.

you don't move for a second, staring open mouthed at him like a fish out of water.

"need i repeat myself?" his tone goes completely left, treating you like an annoying student who wouldn't take no for an answer. he's holding it a bit louder, breathing heavily through his nose. "chest to the mattress. Now."

that gets you going in 2x speed, heart hammering cruelly in your chest as you rush to the bed, keeping your clothes on as you rest your front against the mattress. it's instinctual when you bury your face into the sheets, not wanting to see his disapproving face anymore.

you'd let him do anything to you if it means he'd wipe that look off his face.

"you remember, don't you?" he starts, unbuckling and letting his work pants pool around his thighs once they fall. there's no waiting for a shaky answer, he continues. "few weeks after I proposed, I told you what I needed from you... the one thing I always needed. what was it?"

it's like a fucking quiz. you suck at tests, and he told you a lot back then. "uh-

"you're not stupid." suddenly he's behind you, taking a grab of your ass under your loose cotton skirt. it's too long to pull up like he wants, so he waits. "the one thing."

"dinner?" then, he spanks you and it takes every ounce of willpower you have not to choke out a surprised cry. he's never shown you this side before... you love it.

"shit! i'm sorry, so sorry."

"i work five days a week, nine hours a day... everything you ever glanced at, I've given you. cars, this big house, this fucking skirt on your ass... it's mine. the one thing I've always wanted in return is your comfort after my long day."

you could cry right now, you're so mad at yourself. "so sorry, ken... i'm so sorry, i knew that."

"sorry is nice, but it won't make me feel better." he decides, then leans down to yank your ankle length skirt high above your waist. somewhere inside of him, he debates gagging you, but wouldn't want to miss your pretty cries. so, he decides against it.

he reaches, dragging two fingers through your cunt, swimming in the fact that you're already so wet for him. he was afraid his mood would turn you down, but if anything, you're weeping for him.

now, kento would never hurt you, really. but, he will and is about to fuck you black and blue. after all, you're the naughty one -- just you. he won't tell you his shitty day filled him to the brim with unkempt angst and he had to expel it.

you're whining under his touch, rising to your tippy toes to try and chase it once it pulls away. little did you know, you're trying to chase the quick little slap he lands right over your needy cunt, sending you crying into the mattress.

you're so turned on, it's scary.

but, when you try to turn around to see if ken's just as affected, he closes his hand around the top of your head and pushes you back into the bed. he's got a socked foot pressed into the mattress next to your hips, giving him the perfect alignment to ease inside of you ever-so-kindly, not giving you any clues to the way he's about to,

ravage you like a beast.

"oh, thank you. god, thank you. thankyou, mm."

"hate when you annoy me... just don't be annoying - fuck."

"this 's why i married'u... gonna -- mmf, fuck. I'm gonna make you limp, 'f you're not pre-mgh-gnant now, u're gonna be."

"need to hear you say... lemme hear it, n-nanami, mm, sweet girl."

"iloveyou." you squeal into his hand as he pierces you fully on his cock, feeling the throb and ache of him flooding your insides with him. it leaks and drips as he takes you through it, sneaking a few fingers in your mouth to play with your tongue.

he's panting like a heathen behind you. it's the most you've heard him speak in one sitting in... forever. it's the most expression he's ever showed.

if you could hear his thoughts right now, all you'd hear is s symphony of:

lovelovecomfortprettycomfortingbeautifulselflessselfishinterestinglovingcomforting

you're his everything. but most of all, you're his entire idea of comfort and safety personified. even when he's fucking you halfway to death, he stops to kiss your tears away and tell you,

"'m sorry for bein' so rough. thankyou for takin' it. love you s'much.."

lucky you

[lunar-fey]

$26.30/300

after officially 4 full weeks i am going to be back to work tomorrow! however, i do still need to pay bills before i'll have my first paycheck, specifically by monday, may 5th! i've lowered the goal just a touch since some meds can wait until after i get my check, but if ya'll can still spread this/help out it would be greatly appreciated!! thanks so much for the help thus far!!

please help your local disabled trans man being fucked over by its job

howdy! i'm nate and i currently work as an in-home caretaker for elderly and disabled folk! however, around 2 months ago my longterm client passed away very unexpectedly which left me without work for 2 weeks.

after that i did get a new client, but last monday (march 31) i got a call (at fucking 8:30 am. woke my ass up.) saying i didn't need to come in bc her daughter (who was in the process of moving in w her) is taking over as her caretaker. which like. fair.

BUT between the fact that she was always in and out bc of doctor appointments (also very understandable), and the fact that it has now been another week and a half since i've had hours to work, on top of the initial 2 weeks i was out, i'm uhhhhh hurtin a bit.

i've been checking with the manager every like 2-3 days to make sure there still aren't any clients i can take, literally just called today, but as of now i'm just sitting around with bills to pay and no way to get an income for who knows how long. SO.

IF you'd like to help out and you want something for your money there aint a lot i can offer, but i can do tarot readings, i can kinda draw (very slowly bc my hands r fucked up), do a bit of graphic design, write, and idk if you wanna pay me for something else send me a message and we can figure it out.

links below ˅˅˅

ANYTHING HELPS but for now. lets get through the month

$0/350

[gojoux]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐀𝐘 “𝐋𝐄𝐓'𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐎𝐔𝐓” 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐈𝐌

Gojo. Geto. Sukuna. Nanami. Choso. Toji. Megumi. Itadori. Yuta.

◈ — 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎

“Say no more.” He'd grab your face in an instant and press his lips against yours. He would immediately get touchy all over your body, and for not even a few seconds, he's already slipping his tongue in, savoring your taste with hunger. He'd pull away for a moment before devouring your lips with his own, your mouth would be invaded by his tongue once more before pressing you against the nearby wall.

◈ — 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎

“You want to make out? Alright, love. Let's go somewhere private, we can make out there as much as you want.” He'd place his hands on your wrist and lead you toward the bedroom. His lips would immediately find yours, soft but deep kisses at first before it gets heated. He doesn't mind if you want to be on the top or him on the top. Rest assured, he's not giving your lips a break either way. “Now I know what you need to do to convince me.”

◈ — 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀

His body would shiver with excitement as he looks down at you with a hungry look. “Come here,” he reaches for you and grabs your body, “You want to make out, do you now? My, my, are you in the mood for me.” He tilts your head with his finger and starts trailing kisses on your neck, nibbling your skin with his teeth, licking and sucking, and doing whatever he wants until he makes sure it leaves a lot of his marks. His mind is filled with dirty thoughts, “I hope you know what you're getting yourself into.”

◈ — 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

“Right here? Right now?” Nanami's eyebrows would elevate at this request. “I should have expected it from you.” He sighs and loosens his tie before leaning back on his chair saying, “I can spare some time for you, love,” as he pats his lap, gesturing you to sit with him. “Let's make it a good one.” He'll place a hand on your cheek and the other on your waist as he kisses you slowly, with no rush, he likes to take his time savoring your lips.

◈ — 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎

He would look at you confused, “What's that?” He had no clue what making out is and he's not familiar with the term. Once you explain it to him, he'll nod and hold your waist, initiating the kiss first. “Like this?” He'll kiss you more. “I think I can get used to this.” His kisses slowly become deeper, letting out a few hums of satisfaction here and then. His touches would become bolder as well once you give him the cue. He's never done something like this but he seems to enjoy it with you.

◈ — 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

He'd raise a brow after hearing your request out of nowhere. “So you want to make out, huh? Are you feeling needy?” He'll tease you for it. “Now come here, I'll show you just how good I can be with my lips," he'd speak to you in a seductive tone while looking at you with a sly smile on his face. He'll kiss you all over your face until it's damp from both of your wet lips after the kiss while his hands eagerly caressing and groping your body. He won't stop even until you're breathless.

◈ — 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈

He'd turn a bit red at your sudden question. He is a little surprised with your forwardness but he's not against it. “What did you say? Do you want to make out with me?” He doesn't mind if you kiss him. In fact, he'd like it if you did because he's been wanting to do that with you for some time already. Megumi starts off shy with a few pecks, focusing on your lips and what gesture you like. It's surprisingly hard for him to stop kissing you once he's warmed up.

◈ — 𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈

“Eh? With me?” He points at himself. You'd smack his arm which makes him let out a short playful laugh, “Okay, okay, let's do it.” He'd kiss you eagerly, he really wanted to experience kissing someone ever since he was single, and now that got the chance to make out with you is more than a dream come true. He'll circle an arm over your shoulder and the other around your waist, pressing your body closer to him as he focuses on kissing you.

◈ — 𝐘𝐔𝐓𝐀

His face would turn red and his cheeks would be flushed. He'd look at you with surprised eyes and then he'd nod slowly. “O-of course, let's make out.” He'd say your name in such a soft way, the most romantic tone he's ever spoken to you with. After a few seconds of looking deeply into your eyes, he would lean closer and test the water with a few soft pecks before the kiss got deeper. He doesn't really know where to place his hand so he just holds your waist as he pulls you closer.

[venomvalley]

Hii! I know you’re probably busy and everything, but I thought I’d give it a try.

I wanted to ask you if you could write a sevika fic where her gf/wife (or if you want more drama, her bestfriend 😼) is ovulating and is needy, and sevika decides to help her.

I’m sorry if this isn’t quite something you’d like to write, if you don’t you can just skip over it, luv ya🫶🏻

THIRD PHASE

sevika x fem!reader | 2.5k words

TAGS: 18+! pre-time skip sevika, just besties being besties, club bathroom sex, slight scent kink, fingering and oral (both receiving)

NOTES: funny coincidence is that im also ovulating so this is exceptionally horny. do not say i didnt warn u

“This is bullshit.”

You collapse against the back cushion of the booth with a frustrated sigh, tapping your empty glass on the top of the table. Sat in this claustrophobic club for three hours, neon lights flashing, music so loud a migraine teases at the base of your skull, and absolutely no pretty girl to show for it.

On your right, Sevika passes you a half-full bottle of tequila with a pinch to her brow. Three drinks deep and she's barely tipsy. “What the hell are you talking about?”

You grab the bottle and set it in front of you, hands wringing tight around the neck. “All these people, and not a single one appeals to me.”

You're elbow-deep in a hormonal dilemma of disastrous proportions, chained to the nature of your menstrual cycle. Third phase: ovulation.

In other words, you're really fucking horny.

“I wonder why. You've been in a shit mood all day.”

From the corner of your eye, you glare at her—one of the very few people you can call a friend. Met each other back when Vander and Silco still ran the Undercity, and bonded over revolution and shit childhoods and causing trouble for the Enforcers.

It’s just Vander now, and the two of you are older and wiser and still attached at the hip. Loyal to the end. You prove it by fighting like an old married couple a month away from stabbing each other to death.

“Fuck you, Sevika.”

By the mercy of Janna, you wish you could fuck something. Woke up this morning with a second pulse between your legs, underwear soaked through, thighs slick and sticky, and your hand accomplished nothing. You tried. Three different times before leaving for your bartending job.

The need followed you throughout the work day. Every woman that walked through the door fell victim to your scrutinizing eye. You wouldn't dare leer at them, but did you sneak a quick glance or four when they looked away?

Well. You're only human. And your human brain has been stuck in a thought loop of sexual fantasy and craving pussy since you opened your eyes.

A smack to the table snaps you back to the thrumming bass of the club and the warm body beside you.

“Hey. Did you hear what I said?” She leans in close to scream over the music, breath fanning over your ear, and you tense up to suppress a sudden shiver.

“No fucking clue.” You don't dare look up at her, eyes staring a hole through the bottom of your mysteriously full glass.

You need to get laid as of yesterday.

She rests her forearm on your shoulder. Weighs your right side down to bring you closer, and you could scream at the brush of her chest against your bicep.

“Got word of a raid at Basher's shop, so we're meeting tomorrow at Vander's to hear the plan. You in?”

When you turn to face her, you’re close enough that you almost brush noses, and under zero circumstances do you follow the plush curve of her lips. You definitely don't notice the way her tits fill out her shirt, or how pretty she is beneath the neon lights of the club.

Oh.

Ohhh no. That's not good.

You nod your head. “I'll be there.”

She smells like tequila and cigarettes and the wind from the docks. A bit sweaty from running around outside all day.

It shouldn't be hot. It really, really shouldn't be, but it is. Gods, it is.

Which is exactly why you make a quick escape, scooting out of the booth to make a beeline for the bathroom. You almost drown yourself in two handfuls of ice cold water, bent over the sink to calm yourself down. Droplets get everywhere—they run down your neck and arms, wet the leather of your boots, pool up on the edge of the sink.

You're going insane. Actually, certifiably insane. Never before have your hormones driven you to this point.

New plan: grab the nearest consenting woman you can find, drag her into the nearest secluded alley, and eat her out until she either cries or faints. Maybe if you ask nicely, she'll reciprocate.

Unfortunately for you, the first woman you lay eyes on when you open the bathroom door is a very stern-looking Sevika. She blocks your path, squinting down at you. The only person in your life who knows how to make you feel small, submissive.

Her gaze on you heats up your blood, makes your heart race, and you attempt to squeeze by her only for her to sidestep at the last second. She backs you into the bathroom with a large, pressing hand against the center of your chest. Closes then locks the door with a frustrated growl.

“What the hell's gotten into you?” She steps forward until the toes of her boots kiss yours. “Tomorrow's important, and I—we need you there.” She leans in close, hissing, “Get your shit together.”

For a second, you think you might pass out. Wanna kiss her so bad your knees threaten to buckle.

But she's right, and who better to vent to about your hormonal woes than your closest friend? Maybe she can introduce you to a pretty girl that's just your type.

She turns to leave, and you grab her by the wrist, centering her attention back onto you. “Alright, okay. Fine.” You inhale deep, arms stretching away from your sides. “I'm horny and I really need to get laid but but I can't do the whole ‘strangers’ thing like everybody else can, and I need to eat pussy so bad that I might actually cry.”

You expect some sort of reaction. Irritation or disgust, but she looks at you like you’ve just explained the entire history of cast iron cookware for the past four hours.

“… That's it.”

“What do you mean, that’s it?”

Her eyes roll toward the ceiling, searching for patience in its water-stained pattern. “You don't fuck strangers. Fine. But you could've asked me.” She shakes her head, blows a breath through grit teeth. “Would've saved me a headache.”

Are you hallucinating? You might actually be hallucinating. There's no way you're actually having this conversation right now.

“How was I supposed to know you'd even be willing?”

“You ask. It's sex. Natural. No big deal.”

Makes sense. No harm in letting your friend finger you in the dingy bathroom of some random club so you can finally move on with your fucking day.

Actually, that sounds pretty great right about now.

You sniff, lips twisting into a pout, foot tapping over the floor. “Okay. Then this is me officially asking.”

The easiest decision of your life happens next: meeting her halfway in a desperate kiss. You groan into her mouth as her hand finds the curve of your back, pressing you flush against the toned planes of her body, your tits squishing together.

Yeah. This is exactly what you fucking needed.

You reach up, curling your arms around her neck, tongue licking into her mouth. She tastes like the bitter bite of tequila. Kisses like she fights: ruthless, practiced, mean. Tenders your bottom lip between the blunt edges of her teeth, presses hard enough against your lips to bruise.

But there are better uses for her mouth, for the slick heat of her tongue. You slide a hand between your bodies to yank at the buttons of your pants, and she takes half a step away to help you. Wastes no time turning you around by the shoulder, shoving you face-first onto the counter beside the sink. You reach back to lower the fabric over your ass, breathing ragged, heart thumping against the wall of your ribcage. So needy you actually start to tear up.

Her hands sear the sensitive flesh of your thighs as she reveals your cunt to the chill of the room, pants and underwear caught around your knees. Her thumbs spread the cheeks of your ass, your labia parting with a wet pop.

Behind you, she coughs out an incredulous laugh. “Shit. You weren't kidding.”

“Sev, just—”

“Hush. I know.”

You already know you've made a mess, can feel the sticky string connecting your clit to your thigh. A trail she follows with the flat of her tongue, and your vision whites out for a second at the initial sensation of her hot mouth. She kisses your pussy like she did your lips, thumbs catching on the indent where your thigh meets your ass to open you up for her.

Your forehead thumps against the counter, head freed from every single thought but one:

need to cum need to cum need to cum

And you would be humiliated, mortified if not for the way her tongue licks a steady, perfect rhythm over your clit. A thumb slides into your cunt with a wet squelch, gives you something blissful and thick to clench down on as all-consuming heat curls and coils in the pit of your belly.

When your legs begin to twitch and shake, you pin her in place with fingers fisted in that stupid little ponytail at the back of her head, blunt nails digging into her scalp. Chest heaving against the counter as you pant and whine and groan.

She hums against you, thumb beginning to thrust in time with each pass of her tongue over your clit. A messy eater, vocal in a way that sends vibrations thrumming through you.

It doesn't take much longer for the coil inside your belly to snap, for your whole body to tense up, a loud moan trapped in your lungs. Synapses firing, stars bursting behind your eyelids.

Finally.

Your knees buckle as the last of your orgasm washes over you, and she holds you up with a hand on the back of your thighs. Sucks your clit into her mouth.

Too much.

With a startled whine, you shove her face away from you, thumb catching on her lower lashline. She jerks away, the loss of her hands leaving you scrambling for purchase atop the counter.

“Shit, that was my eye.”

You find your footing, shooting her a glare over your shoulder. Her fist rubs against the offending socket, frown deep-set on her face.

“Not my fault you kept going.”

Fixing your clothes is a challenge when your legs threaten to give out, but you manage. She's ruined you. Way too good at that to only experience it once—should be a crime, actually.

“Excuse me for being nice.”

“Nice? You tried to kill me.”

She rises to her feet with a scoff then brushes off the knees of her pants. “Ungrateful. There are much worse ways to die.”

You frown at her, shoving her back toward the wall. “Thanks for fucking up my afterglow.”

“You're welcome.”

Her lips stretch into a grin, the lower half of her face glossy beneath the lights, and you wonder what you taste like on her tongue.

Fuck it.

You kiss her again, forcing a grunt from her chest when her back meets the rough brick. She cups your face in both hands, fingers cradling your jaw. A sharp contrast to the way she sucks on your tongue, nips at your bottom lip, grinds against the hand that you shove down her pants.

She does, in fact, taste like you. Musky, slightly bitter from the tequila. Best thing you've ever had in your mouth.

Your fingers slide beneath the hem of her underwear, combing through the coarse curls on her mound before parting the lips of her cunt.

Soaking wet.

You pull away from the kiss with a teasing laugh, nose brushing against hers. “Oh, you liked that.”

“Shut up.”

She rolls her eyes, sucking in a sharp breath when you slide two fingers into her, insides stretching with a soft squelch. Hot, velvet heat clenches around you, and you moan against the pulse of her neck, breath hot against her skin.

“Can I eat your pussy?” A desperate, sucking kiss to her lips. “Fuck, I'll beg if you want me to.”

She exhales a heavy, stuttering breath. Shoves you to your knees with both hands on your shoulders. Need consumes you once again as you gaze up at her, two sets of hands working to undo her pants.

The first sight of her, bare and glistening in front of your face, leaves you moaning, cussing under your breath. Puffy clit, plush labia framed by a thick bush the same color as her hair. You’re pissed that you’ve never done this before now. Look at what you could’ve had.

You grab at her hips, tugging her closer as you lick her from hole to clit. The salt-musk taste of her leaves you groaning, makes you shift your position to wriggle your tongue inside her and fuck, you could probably cum again right now.

Above you, she groans low in her throat, presses a palm to the back of your head to keep you still, your nose shoved against her clit. Hard to breathe like this, your whole world narrowed to a pinpoint, senses overwhelmed by her—her taste, her smell, the tense muscle of her thighs beneath your hands.

You replace your tongue with two fingers, licking your way up to her clit. When you latch your lips around the bundle of nerves, thrusting into her wet heat, her hips tilt into your hand, head thumping against the wall.

“Fuck,” she huffs, breath stuttering, “that's it.”

She's all groans and grunts as you work her up to orgasm, pussy fluttering and tight and so wet around your fingers that she leaks into your palm. Intoxicating. Best you’ve ever had, and you don’t think too hard about the history between you, but you know that it makes her taste even better.

She comes with a ragged gasp, hips grinding against your face, insides clenching tight and rhythmic around your fingers. You fuck her through it, moaning into her skin as her hand forces your head even closer.

In the next moment, she pushes you away with a hiss, muttering something unintelligible under her breath.

You pull away from her with a wet pop then take the time to suck your fingers clean. “So, uh. Not to make this weird, but we should do this again sometime.”

She gazes down at your kneeling form, breathing still labored as her fingers button up her pants. “Well. You still have a few more days of this, right?”

A smug grin creeps onto your face, mimicking her own expression as she holds out a hand to help you up. “Baby, this is only the first.”

“Still need help?”

Something warm finds a home in your chest at her low-lidded eyes, and you’ve never realized how pretty they were until now. Icy grey, shimmering beneath the low light of the bathroom.

So you scoff, placing dramatic hands on your hips. “If you can handle me.”

She pushes you toward the sink with a huff, voice tinged with irritation as she says, “I’ve had ten shitty years with you. I can manage another week.”

But when you glance over your shoulder, ready to argue back as you turn on the water, all you see is a teasing smile.

[thegoldencontracts]

Aishiteru—I Love You

—♡ Whispered confessions of love in a language you really should have realized the both of you could understand.

—Characters: Leona, Ruggie

—Warnings: Reader is a bit dense, in case that's not your thing

—Notes: So, uh, I really did mean it when I said I'm back on my bullshit ww (in the voice of someone who surprised even herself); Anyways TIL male lions roar before mating ahahah guess which section that's gonna come up in (difficulty impossible)

Leona Kingscholar

It was very, very stupid to love someone who would so obviously never love you back. A prince of majesty untold with the bright, sharp green eyes of a predator and beauty that watched both his brains and brawn.

But you loved him. Maybe not. Maybe it was just infatuation, a mix of chemicals influenced by hormones bound not to last, but you didn't care.

And he... he tolerated you. The lion was a difficult one to get a read on, apathy masking all the depths of his emotion.

He thought you were scrawny, you knew that much, for he always shoved a packet of snacks into your hands when you spoke, claiming you "needed to get some meat on your bones".

He thought you were troublesome, as he said repeatedly when he helped you with those stupidly difficult homework assignments. There was a magic he seemed to work into his every word, one that made seemingly mind-numbingly complex concepts become clear as day.

And his henchman thought you were stupid.

"Seriously, Kantokusei-kun, you're denser than a pile of rocks..." The hyena beastman had muttered as you accompanied him to Leona's resting spot. "I'll leave you two to do your thing."

Leona was there, tail flicking lazily and hair perfectly disheveled.

"Herbivore," he said, adjusting his mane. He wasn't asleep for once. In fact, he had no hesitation as he stood, pawing at your shoulder. "You're late."

Huh?

"Late?" you asked. "To what?"

"We always meet around now," said Leona simply.

...Did you? Was it, like, something he kept track of?

Leona roared lowly. Was he angry or something?

"Did I do something wrong?" But he just laughed.

"Don't play coy with me, herbivore," he said. "I think both of our intentions are clear by now."

Was he trying to pick a fight with you? Oh, god, you were not surviving this unscathed. But- But you hadn't even said you loved him! You couldn't die without getting this off of your chest?

But you also couldn't put your feelings out there in the open to be so easily rejected...

You had a solution. Just pick a different language, easy as that!

"Ti amo," you said. If you died staring at his beautiful face you would die happy.

But again, Leona just smirked.

"Took you long enough," he said. "I was startin' to think you were just playing around."

Right. He must've thought you were insulting him! After all, he probably wanted to fight, right?

"It's, uh, not an insult," you admitted. Silence.

"...I know."

What.

"What do you mean, 'you know'? It could very well be one!"

Leona, for once, seemed visibly incredulous.

"Do you need to go to the hospital or something? Get your head checked?" He looked over you scrutinizingly. "Your vitals are alright. What's goin' on?"

"Well-"

"Are you tryin' to say you have bad taste or something?" he said, letting out a self-deprecating chuckle. "Guess you'd be right about that."

"I mean, you don't know what I said! How do you know it's not an insult?"

...

Leona's eyes narrowed.

"Do you think," he said. "That a prince like me doesn't know a basic phrase like that?"

Leona was royalty. Right. Royalty. Who usually had to learn countless languages for diplomacy purposes.

Holy shit, you were stupid. And screwed. Very screwed.

"Thickheaded and a coward," he huffed, though his voice softened. "Got no clue why I like you."

Wait. He liked you?

"Why do you look so surprised?" Leona said. "Thought I made it obvious."

He really didn't. Then again, maybe you weren't the best person to decide what was and wasn't obvious, considering you couldn't figure out that a prince would understand a well-known Italian phrase.

"Well, um." you said. "I love you too!"

For a split second, you could've sworn you saw his cheeks flush darker, before he nodded.

"Yeah," he said. "I figured. Now c'mere."

Without letting you protest—not that you would've—he pulled you onto the bed with him.

"After dealin' with your thick head, I definitely deserve a nap."

But even someone like you could notice his tail was gently wagging.

Ruggie Bucchi:

You loved Ruggie Bucchi.

You loved his smile, his greyish-blue eyes, that dirty blonde hair of his that was just so easy to ruffle. You loved the way he would beam whenever he managed to score easy money or food, the way he endured everything life threw at him with a smile.

And there was his odd brand of kindness. He gave you bits of food he scored when he could, always insisting it was just "to make sure you'd owe him later"—but the time where he collected his debt never came. Every chance he could, he brought back food to share with the children back home. Your subconscious took note of each and every instance, whether you wanted it to or not. And each time, it seemed as if this bottomless pit of romantic pining somehow managed to get even deeper. Perhaps that was an oxymoron. Oh, well.

You doubted he loved you back, though. His gifts were friendly, and as was his smile. Nothing more. Those flushed glances you noticed were mere figments of the imagination. Ruggie Bucchi was a pragmatic individual who most certainly did not care for your affections.

So you kept them hidden. You tried, really, you tried. But the thing about romantic feelings was that they were impossible to keep suppressed.

The scene was a stereotypical sort; the two of you beneath a tree, splitting a sandwich. A light breeze.

This was where all the confessions happened, you thought. You sternly reminded yourself to act normal.

"Shishishi, this is good! Where'dja get it from?" He asked.

I love you so much, you wanted to reply. But you held your tongue. Act normal, you reminded yourself.

"I-I made it myself," you said. He beamed, little canines and agh hewassocute-

Damnit. You really couldn't take this anymore. But you couldn't bear to say those three words aloud either.

But what if there was a compromise?

Something other than English. A language he couldn't speak.

"Wǒ ài nǐ," you muttered. I love you, in Mandarin hinese. You'd heard it in a song once. Admittedly, it was a bit intense of a phrase, but still. It wasn't like he'd understand, anyways.

Ruggie stiffened, eyes going wide as saucers.

"What did you say, Kantokusei-kun?"

"Wǒ ài nǐ," you repeated, because it you still weren't satisfied with saying it once. "Just something in another language. You wouldn't understand."

You didn't mention Mandarin, in case he tried to translate.

"Uh-huh," said Ruggie, looking pointedly away form you.

Wait. Did he... think you'd insulted him?

"It wasn't anything mean, I-"

"I know."

His voice was still curt and clipped, red creeping up his cheeks.

"So," Ruggie said. "Do you know what that means?"

"Well, yeah, but-"

Ruggie cut you off with a flick of the wrist, before looking down, quiet as a mouse. After a few seconds, he spoke, slowly.

"Kantokusei-kun," he started. "Did you know," he cut himself off with a nervous shishi. "-That I can speak ten languages?"

"You can?" It was odd how Ruggie wasn't immediately taking the chance to brag about it, honestly. Or mention the skill's use in soliciting job opportunities.

"One of them is Mandarin," he said.

Oh.

Welp, you had a nice run. It was time to dig yourself into the nearest hole!

"Welp," Ruggie said, red-faced and apparently having had his fill of earnest conversation for the day. "That was awkward. Seeya! Don't be so tasteless with your jokes next time, okay?"

"It wasn't a-"

"Seeya!"

You sighed. Seriously? He thought you said it as a joke?

Maybe he was just uncomfortable and wanted to play it off. Yeah, probably that.

But the next day, you noticed the sandwich he brought you as 'payback' was shaped like a heart.

[nikkento-writes]

Babysitter - Part 2

Pairing: dad!Toji x babysitter!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~3.8k

cw: age gap (reader is 21, Toji is in his 30s), explicit language, cheating, pregnancy, smut – PIV sex (doggy style)

Summary: You deal with the aftermath of your summer babysitting job turned adulterous summer scandal.

Author’s Notes: Thanks for all the kind words and support on Part 1 of this! I hope you enjoy part 2, and who knows, maybe I'll write a part 3 one day lol. Thanks for reading! Divider credit to @/fic-dumpster.

Taglist: @scorpiosugar @diegojeanne @f4irygard3n @cvixmei @soniiyi - more tags in the comments

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You blink away the tears in your eyes, holding the pregnancy test, hoping that somehow, you’ll blink away the second line indicating that you are indeed pregnant.

“No way.” Chiyo waits for you outside the stall, the apprehension in her voice apparent.

“Yes. I’m…” There’s a lump in your throat you have to swallow before you finish your sentence. “Pregnant.”

Your best friend’s silence on the other side only makes you panic more, but you don’t blame her. What can she really say to make any of this better? To stop your world from turning upside down?

She whispers your name quietly, at a complete loss for words. Then, she clears her throat, sounding as if she’s fighting tears herself. “I’m going to buy you a melon pan. Just…wait for me here, okay?” It’s the only consolation she can offer you in this moment, huddled in a public restroom of a convenience store; you appreciate the effort, nonetheless. You wait for her to leave, completely alone now. As soon as she’s gone, you sob into your hands.

It's not that you oppose being a mother. You’ve always imagined handing a positive pregnancy test to the love of your life with the biggest smile on your face, excited to raise a family together. Ideally, this would have happened sometime in the future, once you’ve established yourself as a full-fledged adult. Not like this: twenty-one years-old, less than a year until graduation without the slightest clue what you’re doing with your life. Worst of all, the father isn’t your husband, a boyfriend, even a friend. It’s Toji Fushiguro, the dad of the little boy you babysat over the summer, the husband of the kind woman who hired you. You still haven’t forgiven yourself for your adultery, the guilt eating away at you since the start of that lecherous summer fling. And now, you have this pee-on-a-stick to remind you how incredibly reckless you were to get involved with him in the first place. How undeniably irresponsible you were to have unprotected sex with a married man. Sure, it was the best sex you’ll probably ever have in your life. But was it worth it?

You wrap the pregnancy test in toilet paper, tossing it in the trash bin. Knowing that no good will come out of sulking in the 7-11 bathroom any longer, you finally exit the stall, washing your hands clean at the sink. Your phone vibrates in your back pocket as you stare at your reflection in the mirror, fixated on your belly, wondering what it will look like round and full of life. It buzzes again, snapping you out of your trance. When you check to see who’s messaging, you almost drop your phone out of shock.

Somehow, someway, the universe has it out for you. Because in the most perfectly disastrous timing ever, Mrs. Fushiguro decides to contact you.

~~~

A week later, you’re sitting on the train, heading to the Fushiguro household. Your stomach is in knots, both from anxiety and from the morning sickness. Sweat beads on your forehead, skin sticky against your clothing in this hot weather. The closer you approach your destined stop, the more and more nervous you get, almost convinced to call the whole thing off.

Believe it or not, Mrs. Fushiguro did not contact you to confront you about the dirty deeds you did with her husband. Instead, she messaged you in dire need of a babysitter once again. She spares you the details, asking if you could meet her in person to better explain herself. And for whatever reason, you agree.

You haven’t come up with a solid plan yet on what you want to do about your little predicament. So far, the only people that know are Chiyo and your parents, who, after the initial shock of it all, have been surprisingly supportive. They advised you to take the rest of the term off, which you were able to get arranged quickly through your school. This gives you several weeks to decide what you need to do. With one issue resolved, it leaves you with the next, and the most pressing: whether or not you should tell the father. The last thing you want is to break apart the Fushiguro family. You’re fully prepared to raise this baby as a single mother, which, with the help of your parents and best friend, seems doable. Besides, you’re not even sure if you want Toji to be involved considering his complete lack of interest in his other child, Megumi. Despite that, you believe that as the father, he has the right to know. Can you gather the courage to actually tell him?

Still lost in your train of thought, you hop off to walk to the house. When you arrive, you spot Mrs. Fushiguro already outside, leaning against her car in the driveway with little Megumi in her arms. They both smile upon seeing you, warming your heart. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself for whatever is to come. 

“Hello Mrs. Fushiguro,” you greet her, bowing politely, too shy to meet her gaze. “How are you?”

“Doing really well. Thank you for coming on such short notice.” She lets her son down, who steps towards you until he’s hugging your knee, cooing. “I wanted to talk to you in person about my complicated situation.”

“Is everything alright?” you ask, unable to resist kneeling down to meet Megumi at eye level, making funny faces at him.

She giggles. “Oh, everything is great! The divorce finally went through and I’m living with my new boyfriend now, who’s been the absolute best, especially with Megumi.”

You make a shocked expression, mouth agape, exaggerated for the kid’s entertainment, though you’re pretty much stunned yourself. “Divorce…?”

“Yeah! Toji and I have been separated for a long time now. I’m sorry I didn’t mention that over the summer. You’re still so young after all, no need to rope you into adult things.”

You almost bust out laughing at the irony, but you hold your tongue, continuing to listen to her.

She sighs, flipping her long, beautiful hair behind her shoulders. “That being said, I still care about the guy. I mean, he is the father of my child. Without me or Megumi there on a regular basis, the whole house has gone to shit. It seems like he’s actually taking this divorce pretty hard. So, I want to hire you as a babysitter for my ex-husband. Just for a little while until he can get back up on his feet.”

Another shocked face, which makes Megumi laugh while dread sinks into your chest. “Babysitter…?”

“Babysitter, housekeeper, whatever you want to call it. You did such a wonderful job with him over the summer, even while you were taking care of Megumi! I don’t know what you were feeding him. Whatever it was, he was definitely a little bit nicer when you were around.”

Lewd flashbacks replay in your mind of Toji eating you out sloppily, slurping up all your pussy juices in every room of the house. You focus on the ground, too ashamed to look at her. “Mrs. Fushiguro, I don’t know if I can do this.”

She squats to your level, reaching for your hand, holding it gently in hers. “I know this is a lot of ask. You’re the only one I can rely on for this. Please.”

A sense of déjà vu hits you. There’s desperation in her tone and it tugs at your heartstrings the same way it did when you first met her a few months ago. It doesn’t help that Megumi is now squeezing the index finger of your other hand, eyes full of curious wonder, grip surprisingly strong for such a young child. Would she be pleading with you like this if she knew the truth about you, Toji, and the baby? Even though they were separated during this whole ordeal, it doesn’t make what you did any better; you still decided to do it regardless of their marital status.

Maybe you can use this opportunity as a way to atone.  

You finally look at her, giving the most convincing smile you can muster, trying your best to ignore the wave of nausea washing over you. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

~~~

Mrs. Fushiguro asks you to start at noon the following day, giving her enough time to notify her ex about your temporary employment. When you use the set of keys she gave you to open the front door, you step inside cautiously, not sure what to expect. You’ve been dreading this impromptu reunion all night, wondering if you could even face him.

It’s a mess inside, heaps of dirty laundry scattered all over the furniture, fast food wrappers and empty ramen bowls littered on the kitchen counter. There’s a stench lingering in the stale air in here and you almost think the worse, but Mrs. Fushiguro had warned you about this. Seeing it in person is more heartbreaking than disgusting. Toji really is taking this divorce hard. It wouldn’t be right to burden him with more life-changing news, right?

You begin by gathering all the trash into garbage bags, flattening any cardboard to recycle. By the looks of it, he’s been living off junk food and protein bars for the past month. The refrigerator is near empty, aside from a questionable take-out container in the very back, which you end up dumping along with everything else. You make it your next task to get groceries after you load the washing machine.

When you return from the store, Toji remains absent. Nerves prevent you from leaning against the bedroom door to listen for any signs of him in there. His ex-wife mentioned that he goes out to gamble at the horse races whenever he’s short on cash, so it’s likely he’s there. Still, you’re anticipating his return, mentally preparing yourself for how you’ll behave around him. Given your current circumstances, you are serious about turning over a new leaf. No more funny business with him. Absolutely not.

It’s near dinnertime now and you’ve miraculously accomplished tidying the house and doing his laundry all within a few hours. You even managed to cook soup for dinner, full of hearty beef and fresh vegetables, something to provide nutrients compared to the processed food he’s been consuming lately. You’re stirring the pot when you hear keys jingle from outside the front door. He comes in, clad in a tight-fitting black shirt that accentuates his muscles and grey sweatpants that don't leave much to the imagination. A plastic bag is slung behind his shoulder, clearly from a convenience store. Despite his concerning diet, his physique is still impressive as ever. Just one glance at him has you fluttering below your belly, replaying the erotic memories you share together. You turn to face him, standing up straight, feigning confidence while you fret internally. He looks at you, brow raised slightly, a small smirk forming on his lips.

“Hello sir,” you greet him, bowing politely. Acting as if he’s a total stranger and not the man who rocked your entire world over the summer, now with evidence to prove it.

He sets the bag on the counter, revealing a couple of ramen packets inside. “What’s with the formalities?” he asks, grinning. “If I remember correctly, you were screaming my name nonstop the last time you were here.”

Heat rushes into your cheeks instantly, not surprised by his vulgarity, though still embarrassed. You clear your throat, trying to stay strong. “I’m here to work. Nothing else.”

He walks towards you, his stature casting a daunting shadow as he steps closer and closer, towering over you. His voice is low, borderline threatening to a point that has you trembling. “So you don’t want me to fuck you anymore?”

You swallow hard, composure wavering. “That’s right.”  Even you don’t fully believe it when it comes out of your own mouth, how can you expect him to?

There’s a strange look in his eyes, almost like he’s disappointed by your response. He turns his back to you, mumbling something about taking a shower. You watch him enter his bedroom, hearing him clear as day before he shuts the door with a dull thud. “I guess you don’t want me either.”

~~~

A week into being Toji’s live-in housekeeper, the two of you figure out a routine together that involves minimal interaction. You wake up in the morning to cook breakfast, eating it quickly and leaving the rest for him while you go out. You use this time to go for a walk, meet with Chiyo or your parents, do some grocery shopping, or just sit at the nearby park, enjoying the sun with your baby, who grows little-by-little each day.

Toji is usually gone the whole afternoon, either working out or gambling, so you’re able to do chores back at the house, like cleaning his room. He doesn’t return until dinnertime when tension seems to be at its highest. A big reason for that is because he’s made it a habit to eat right after his shower, shirtless and with his legs crossed on the floor, displaying a perfectly visible outline of his manhood. It’s distracting, to say the least. Chiyo mentioned the other day how you can have an increased libido during the first trimester. That’s definitely proving itself now.

Aside from the half-nakedness, something else surprises you about him. The two of you mostly avoid conversation with each other, eating in silence at the dining table while sneaking furtive glances whenever you get a chance. But he never fails to mutter, “Thank you for the meal,” before washing the dishes at the sink, retreating back into his room when he’s done. It’s the tiniest act of consideration that makes you wonder what’s going on in his head.

Tonight you sit across from each other as usual. You just finished eating the chicken katsu you made for dinner, along with a couple of side dishes you prepped earlier in the week. His abs look especially spectacular today and you find it harder than usual to stop peeking at them.

“You’re gonna burn a hole through me with the way you’re staring,” he says, chewing his last bite.

Shit, caught red-handed. You quickly look down at your empty bowl, mumbling an apology. “Sorry. I just…I can tell your hard work is paying off.”

“Yours too. The house has never been cleaner. And the food has never been better.” He’s looking directly at you, a genuine smile on his face. “Thank you.”

It’s no good. Your hormones are raging, sexual desire courses through you, all from that stupidly handsome grin and a silly little compliment. How did you ever think you could resist him?

You stand up, grabbing everything from the table. “I’ll do the dishes,” you offer, walking them to the sink, trying to calm down.

It’s no use, though. He sees right through you.

He gives you only a minute alone before he follows you, caging you between his big arms, your back to him, his mouth hot on your ear. “Let me help you.”

You let out a frustrated huff, already unraveling from his proximity. The smallest jut of your hips and there it is, his erection pressed to your ass, throbbing and even more massive than you remember it. “Toji, we can’t,” you whine, not making any attempt to separate yourself from him.

He slides his hands around your hips, pulling you in closer, rubbing his rock-hard cock against you. “I know you want it. I know you want me.”

And he’s right. You do. You want him with you, around you, inside of you. In all the ways he’s had you before, in new ways he’s never had but you’ve fantasized about. There’s no denying it anymore. You want him. You want him so fucking bad.

He takes you right there at the kitchen sink, bent over with your grip tight on the edge of the counter, pounding away at your wet, needy cunt. Neither of you bother to remove your clothes completely, Toji’s sweatpants shrugged down his thighs just enough, yours pooled around your ankles, soaked panties at your knees. “Fuck, Toji!” you moan, sticking your ass out to meet his thrusts.

His fingers find your clit, rubbing slippery circles around it. “Say it,” he grunts, increasing the pace.

Drools leaks out from the sides of your lips, too fucked out to process what’s he’s asking you. “What?”

“Say you want me,” he demands, massaging your swollen bud so deep, you feel it all the way down to your fucking toes.

“I want you. I want you, Toji!” you respond breathlessly, squeezing him tight with your orgasm.

“Fuck, I missed you. Missed my good girl.” He continues to fuck you, slowly now, relishing every second of being inside you. “Always so fucking creamy for me, fuck.” He pulls you up to embrace you from behind, fingers still pleasuring you, his other hand at your chin to face you towards him. The two of you kiss passionately, lips smacking, tongues swirling. So sloppy and wanton that it puts you on the verge of another orgasm, completely succumbed to pleasure.

You sleep with him in his bedroom after several more orgasms and a big one of his own, wrapped comfortably in his arms, with his cock and creampie inside you the rest of the night. For the first time in a while, you’re oddly at peace.

~~~

Your reckless decision making has led you into another troublesome scenario. Fortunately, you haven’t had any morning sickness the entire first week of your employment at the Fushiguro household. Unfortunately, it decides to come back today. There’s no way you’ll be able to make it to the bathroom near your room, so you have no choice but to hop out of Toji’s bed and run into his, clutching onto the porcelain bowl until it’s all out. You rinse your mouth off at the sink, hoping Toji didn’t hear any of it. But you know all too well by now that luck is never on your side.

He’s sitting up against the headboard, watching you come out of the bathroom. “Did you just puke in there?” There’s a hint of concern in his normally blunt tone.

You nod, bending down to retrieve your underwear and pants off the floor, avoiding his gaze.

“Are you sick?” he asks, the worry even more obvious now.

Shaking your head, you respond, “No, I just…I’m feeling a little nauseous, that’s all.” You walk towards the door, still not willing to look at him. “There should be leftovers in the fridge, so help yourself to breakfast. I’m going to lay down.”

He calls out your name. “Wait – ”

You ignore him, closing the door shut behind you, letting the tears fall down your cheeks as you retreat into your own bedroom, muffling your sobs into a pillow. After your wild romp last night, this bout of morning sickness has swiftly brought you back to reality. You’re still harboring the secret growing in your womb from the man who gave it to you to begin with.

There’s a firm knock on your door, startling you. “Hey, it’s me.”

In this split-second, you decide to stop with the lies and finally tell the truth. You open the door, Toji standing in front of you fully clothed in his usual attire, a serious expression on his face. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

Eyes still puffy from crying, you take a deep breath. “I’m pregnant. And you’re the father.”

His mouth parts the slightest bit, no words coming out of it. The silence seems to linger on forever. You fill it by rambling all the thoughts that have been swimming in your head the last couple of weeks. “Before you start freaking out or anything, I’m telling you so that you know. I don’t expect you to be involved. I’m perfectly willing to raise this child on my own. And besides, I won’t be completely alone. I have my family to help me, my friends too. I’ll be totally fine. This baby is going to be well taken care of, I’ll make sure of it. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I just didn’t know how. But I feel better already because this has been stressing me out. It’s all going to work out okay? I think. I hope.”

After the long spiel, he stares down at the floor, jaw tight, mouth opening and closing, unsure how to respond. Eventually, he says, “I have to go.”

When he leaves the house, you crawl into your bed, bawling until there are no tears left for you to cry.

~~~

You wake up in the late afternoon to an enticing aroma wafting from the kitchen. It’s been hours since you’ve been in bed, moping about how poorly everything went with Toji. His reaction left you devastated. While you always expected to do this alone, hearing his negative response to it hurts more than you anticipated it to.

Curious, you make your way into the kitchen, shocked to find Toji standing over the stove, stirring a pot, the soothing scent of soup surrounding you. “What’s going on?” you ask, noticing a plethora of fresh vegetables laid out on the counter, along with a big bottle of prenatal vitamins and various snacks.

He turns the heat off, covering the pot with a lid. “I’m cooking,” he answers, facing you with a grin on his face. “Bone broth is a good source of calcium. And you need to keep eating lots of veggies so our baby is strong, like me. No more of this instant ramen shit.”

“I thought you were upset,” you say, stepping closer to him.  

“I know. I’m sorry I left like that. I was shocked at first, I’ll admit it. But I started to get excited." He takes your hands in his. "I have a lot of regrets in my life, but being a father isn’t one of them. Being a bad father is. I want to change. I need to change. For Megumi. For our new little one. For you.”

Strangely enough, you believe in his heartfelt declaration. You smile at him, letting him go to stand in front of the stove, taking a whiff of the comforting aroma of the hot soup he made for you, happy tears welling in your eyes. He hugs you gently from behind, nuzzling his nose to you. “I’m going to do it right this time, okay? I know I can do it with you.”

As Toji caresses your belly, kissing you softly along the neck, you feel the weight that’s been heavy on your shoulders ease up. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

[tiredandsapphic]

PINING, MATTHEWS?

pairing ꩜ precrash!lottie matthews x fem!reader

summary ꩜ lottie finds herself oddly infatuated over the local record shop girl, the feelings mutual

an ꩜ wc 1.5k, oh medicated lottie, come home, the kids miss u

Who knew Wiskoyak would be cool enough to have a local record store. Thank gods it did, because it was probably one of the best jobs someone could have. Though if it wasn’t for your parents’ connection to the owner, you’d probably not have the job. But here you are, working part time in the perfectly dusty store.

Lottie didn't even know there was a record store so close, not until Van brought it up one day after practice. She practically forced the poor girl to visit claiming that there's more to the music world than just Mazzy Star and The Cranberries.

With her ego half bruised and a newfound curiosity, she searches for this so-called store with Van's shitty directions. She eventually finds it, tucked behind a local cafe and mechanic shop. 

When she enters, she's hit with the smell of incense and cigarettes, walls lined with posters. Faint record playing in the back, something she can't quite recognize, maybe Kate Bush? Her presence surrounded by the rows of cassettes and dusty vinyls, she almost doesn't notice you.

You're at the front counter, legs kicked up on a stool, chewing on a pen cap as you scribble in your notebook. You don't even look up.

Her so-called rich-girl aura doesn't exactly scream grunge record store— she suddenly feels very out of her element. But determined as Lottie is, with a pretty girl and a mission in front of her, she awkwardly approaches the counter.

Her footsteps draw your attention up, expecting some middle-aged guy looking for another Nirvana cassette. Your eyes widen slightly when your gaze travels up a figure in a letterman jacket, to deep brown eyes. Shit.

She smiles at you right away, her discomfort clearly on her face and now you feel the sudden need to make it all better. "Hey," is what you start with, mirroring a warm smile as you look up.

"Hi, I— uhh, to be honest, my friend kind of bullied me into coming here, and I have zero clue what I'm even looking for." She explains in a voice that makes you melt. She's sweet, but god she's fidgety, weirdly nervous. It's like watching a candied tragedy.

Laughing softly, you throw down your notebook, leaning forward on the counter to give her your undivided attention. Lottie's face is now feeling more warm.

"Oh yikes, I see," you raise your brows in a soft teasing way, "well I can help with that. What do you like?" And the question is so genuine, it's like you actually want to know, not just because it's your job.

She fumbles for a moment, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, the smallest crease in her brow. It's adorable. 

"I think Mazzy Star and Fiona Apple— but I also really like The Cranberries before a game." The tall girl admits and you nod along, slightly smitten by her taste. And a wave of realization runs over you.

"A game? Oh wait shit, you play for the Yellowjackets." You exclaim and it takes her back a bit, then an embarrassed smile grows on her face. "I'm guessing that the friend that bullied you into coming here is Van?" 

Lottie laughs and nods, "Mhm, that's her. She speaks highly of this place— and you, apparently you're ‘the girl that knows her shit’. Honestly I didn't know it existed." She admits, her eyes on you the whole time. You just chuckle.

"Yeah, a lot of people say that. It's my little heaven, I really only got the job because I know the owner, and of course, know my shit." You admit and stand up, smoothing down your clothes as if you were trying to look presentable. "Also I can totally work off your taste, it's good." You smile and she flushes, you can't help but flush as well.

"I'll feel less like a lost cause, thanks." Her footsteps trail behind you as you walk towards one of the aisles. "I'm Lottie by the way." She adds, if not a little awkwardly.

You give her a smile and tell her your name, which makes the girl beam just a little more. Lottie eyes you as you flip through some shelves, admiring the determined look on your face.

You start to pull out some albums, making small comments, even little music facts. Lottie's knees suddenly feel so weak.

You stop yourself mid word vomit, painted nails gripping a The Cure vinyl. "Oh my god, I've been rambling for the past 10 minutes on music, I'm sorry, you must think I'm a dweeb." You laugh, your cheeks feeling hot.

"No—" she adds, maybe a touch too quick, "not at all," she laughs softly, "it's cute, please, I don't think I've learnt this much about music before than now." She says as if she wasn't looking at you instead of the vinyls the whole time.

You look at her as if she just proposed— your heart certainly feels like she did. 

"Okay, good, because I haven't even shown you half of it yet." You grin and she just nods, more than happy to watch your fingertips skim the vinyl spines as you talk.

You probably talk for way too long, but the lack of other customers and her personality becoming less nervous just makes something click. She makes small jokes that have you laughing, and your job just becomes much more worth it.

At one point she skims over, standing in front of a small section that's labelled 'staff picks'.

"Careful. That section's dangerous. You might leave with a personality." You say casually with a teasing look.

She just blinks at you then laughs, and you walk over. You grab a vinyl off the wall. "Actually, here, I think you'll really like this."

And you hold out an Alanis Morissette album. "If you don't like it, full refund." You say half jokingly, but you're too confident in your music match making skills. "Perfect before a game too."

Lottie's deep gaze flickers from you to the album for a few moments before she takes it, her fingers brushing yours. Your internal record player skips. 

"I'll take your word for it." She nods, clutching the album like it's holy.

It's not even then that Lottie goes to cash out, she still trails by as you show her more, even sharing your own favourite artists, which she locks in her mental diary.

You eventually walk over to the counter to ring her up, almost saddened to do so. You wanted her to stay longer, so did she. Though her short trip evolved into something much longer.

Lottie keeps glancing at you during checkout. She's got that flustered soft fidgeting, biting her lip, her fingers twitching by her wallet, clearly wanting to say something but chickening out. 

So, while she's distracted digging through her bag, you build up the courage to make a move— sorta. You grab a post-it note, scribbling your number and writing 'Call me if you want more dangerously good taste. Or a date. Whichever.' and tuck it into the sleeve of the album.

You look back up and slide her the album, taking her money, as if you hadn't just did the boldest thing you've ever had the courage to do.

"Thanks, for all this." She says as she grabs the vinyl off the counter.

You just nod, "any time, I know this was your first time here, and I really hope it's not your last." 

Lottie smiles, her internal circuit malfunctioning. "I'll have to make sure you're on shift then, next time." She says softly before whispering a soft goodbye.

Your heart thumps as you watch her leave, blinking like you've just had the rug pulled from underneath you. You immediately bend over the desk like you've been shot in the chest, your hands on your face. You don't know whether to throw up or celebrate.

Later that night, after a long shift haunted by thoughts of the tall athlete, you lie on your bed, sprawled out like a coming-of-age movie.

Then your landline rings, coming from your cluttered desk beside your bed.

Your heart stops, it could be anyone, but your chest knows.

"Hello?" You answer after the second ring, finger fidgeting with the twisted wire.

"Hey, it's— uh. Lottie. From earlier." Her voice is a little shakier on the line.

"Oh. Oh, hi." Suddenly the wire of your landline is very intriguing, acting as if you weren't the one who asked for this.

"So. I found something in my record sleeve." She says, open ended.

"Oh. Yeah. That." Total deer in headlights. "Was that okay?"

She laughs at your tone softly, "More than okay. I was wondering... if maybe I could take you up on the offer." 

"Which part?" You're nearly breathless.

She pauses, "Well, preferably both, but the mostly second part." 

"Good, I was mostly hoping for that part." And suddenly your world flipped, for the better. 

You clutch your pillow tighter, the idea of a date with her no longer just a dream, but now a promise.