#not just different from what we are doing right now. but different from what we have been doing for the past centuries

[catmask]

meowdy! looks like our move to a new apartment is not going to be so peaceful after all - our old apartment is currently leaking sewage water and we have to evacuate four people and two cats! donations are appreciated, but im opening an emergency sale + commissions too! (more under the cut)

KO-FI SHOP SALE + EMERGENCY COMMISSIONS ARE OPEN!

DISCOUNT CODE IS 'LEAK' IN ALL CAPS

so for this section, i'm going to break down everything thats happening + when things will come off hiatus! i'm hoping that everything will be set up in the new place by JUNE 1st, so that is the hard deadline i'm setting to start all functions up again as usual.

WHAT'S HAPPENING?

two years ago, my fiance and i were offered emergency housing when we (very suddenly and tragically) became the parents to his orphaned little sister. both of us are only 26 and had to move 8 hours from where we had been living at the time, so the housing we had was the best 2 people with few connections and no established jobs could find within a single weeks notice.

since then, we have been saving up and working to finally have a proper place to live. and we did so! at the beginning of this month we found an apartment where all of us can move to. we have a friend staying with us who is helping with the move as well.

i really wanted this move to be seamless - basically, you wouldn't have had to know it was happening. we were going to pay double rent for two months while i would stream and work from the old place, and begin sleeping at the new one. its expensive, but i didn't want my real life to trouble anyone here.

unfortunately this is no longer possible. the old building we were staying at had a pipe begin to leak, then eventually flood our entire apartment. this has been a reoccurring problem the landlord hasn't seemed to find a solution for, and it's led to a biohazard where we were planning on slowly moving from - leading to an immediate and emergency evacuation for the safety of everyone in our family.

SO... STREAMING?

will be back online as soon as possible! we moved out our tech as soon as we could due to fear of water damage, and it seems like everything is A-OK. we just need to rebuild my desk and sound proof the new room, so this will probaaabbly be back online within a week? im just going to take the week off to make sure everything is set up and there are no bugs. (digital. digital bugs.)

LAIKA'S COMET?

for the sake of not losing my buffer crazystyle, i'm pausing laika's until JUNE 1st. but i'm going to post one more page right now to leave you guys on a cliffhanger because i think it's funny. (the ko-fi will still update as regular as i finish pages! tbh, in between moving i am going to be drawing.... a LOT... it's like my only self soothing activity i have access to right now </3)

SHOP STUFF?

you basically won't notice a difference. orders go out every 2 weeks anyway, and literally the day before this happened we completely caught up to date. that + all of the goods we had were already moved over because (similar to the tech) we were worried about water damage, so nothing will be yucky... (i dont know if i can say the same about our furniture or clothes ; _ ; )

FINAL NOTES

while we did manage to get out with emergency bags and a weeks worth of outfits + things to sleep on + cook with, we have no real means of knowing the extent of damage until we bring things out of the apartment and clean them here. thankfully *most* things appear undamaged, its largely the flooring and the smell that are unliveable... walking through puddles of sewage water and having to wear a mask to breathe is not really liveable conditions.

however, considering this move is sped up way faster than planned, and i wont be able to work during it - any sales or donations are hugely appreciated. ; w ;

i'm sorry to ask for help like this, and its only if you are comfortable to do so!!! i can work hard, so i don't mind doing a little extra art to make money, this is just if you feel okay to help out and would like to.

if you read this far, thank you so much - hopefully next time i will return with good news - and maybe a new apartment tour...?

[hot-patootiee]

Part 2 of this. And can you tell I had issues with my ex? Like holy shit I’m having flashbacks writing this.

Nancy stands up and walks over to Eddie though, and gently pushes him towards the door.

“Go fix it.” She demands.

Eddie makes a confused sound as he is gently pushed out of the house, having to push open the door or be squished into it.

…

When Steve’s doorbell rings again, he’s getting a little annoyed.

He swings open the door and Eddie is there.

Steve begins to close the door.

Unfortunately he is forced to deal with his feelings, so Eddie puts a hand on the door and pushes it open.

“Did you think we were dating?” Eddie seems almost accusatory in his tone, which immediately annoyed Steve.

“What do you mean by ‘think’ Eddie? I asked you out, you said yes.” Steve was still trying to shut the door in Eddie’s face, but he looked more angry than sad. “Unless this is some sort of strange apology and declaration of love, I don’t wanna hear it.”

“It is! It is! Just don’t close the door.” Steve furrows his brows and lets the door swing open.

Eddie stumbles in, tripping over the entrance and nearly falling into Steve.

Steve stares at Eddie, waiting.

“I thought you were just experimenting and I’m so sorry for thinking your confession was a joke.” Eddie says sincerely, shifting slightly on his feet in discomfort.

“You think everything I do is a joke. Everyone does! Poor little Steve Harrington gets hit in the head too many times and now is incapable of a coherent thought.” Steve finishes with a self deprecating laugh. His eyes are shining and Eddie can see the rage festering in them, the resignation transforming into simmering anger.

Eddie opens his mouth to refute it, but is cut off instead.

“Was kissing me a joke too? Am I too stupid to know?” Steve moves into Eddie’s face, crowding him before pulling back suddenly. A strong gust reminds Eddie the door is open and anyone close enough could hear them.

“No, no of course not. Shouldn’t we close the door?” Eddie suggests.

“You’re the dumbass who didn’t close it. There is no we in that.” Steve sneers at Eddie’s implication at Steve being incompetent.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Eddie murmurs, pushing the door hard and letting it swing shut. His shoulders are hunched, as if he was trying to placate Steve by making himself smaller.

“I thought you were different, I put up with everybody else calling me stupid all the time, because most of them are children, and I thought you, my boyfriend, was different. But, apparently, you think I’m too incompetent with my own feelings that you need to make the judgement for me.”

“I thought you were joking.” Eddie repeated, Steve was honestly beginning to hear the needle on the vinyl from how many times Eddie had been repeating himself.

“And when I kissed you, was I still just joking?” Steve probed.

“No, can you just let me explain for a second?” Eddie spat his words out quickly, knowing if he went slower Steve would continue to yell at him.

“No, because you’re charging in here with some half cocked apology to try to fix something, just because someone else pointed out that you should. You need to feel better, so you came over to apologize, without considering that I’ve been wallowing in my house for days because of something you did. Actually fucking apologize because you feel bad about putting me in pain, not because you want to stop being uncomfortable with your own actions.” Steve lectured, he massaged the bridge of his nose slightly in an attempt to alleviate his own frustration.

“What do you want me to do? How do I fix this?”

“Those are questions you have to answer yourself. Maybe apologize with something that screams ‘sorry for thinking our entire relationship was a joke’. If you come here with some fucking flowers or chocolate and think that that’s adequate, I will break your fucking guitar.” The wrinkles in Steve’s brow just became deeper as he threatened Eddie. His muscles trembled slightly as he reminded himself of how angry he was.

Eddie nods, looking slightly resigned.

“Oh, and your fucking behavior should change, treat me like a goddamn person. I pulled your ass out of hell, I’ve proved myself to be capable a thousand times over. Treat me like I am.” Eddie couldn’t help but focus on how Steve’s hands shook.

Eddie nods and begins to pull away from Steve, looking sad as he slowly moves to the door.

“What are you doing?” Steve looked genuinely puzzled, prompting Eddie to stop with his hand on the doorknob.

“I’m leaving, I didn’t think you’d want me here.” Eddie shrugged, looking a lot like a kicked puppy as he whimpered. He then began to turn the doorknob to exit the Harrington house.

“What did I just say about making decisions for me?” Steve has his hip cocked and his hands resting on his waist in his signature annoyed mom look. Eddie freezes, unknowing of what to do.

“Come on, go to my room and wait, I just need to run the dishes.” Steve shoos Eddie, who quickly scampers up the stairs and slipped inside Steve’s room. He was unsure of what to do so he waited at the foot of the bed, sitting on the edge of it.

He isn’t sure how long he waits, but Steve finally pads into the room.

Steve pushes Eddie onto his back. Crawling inbetween his legs.

Eddie opens his mouth to express his confusion, but is interrupted by a firm “scooch” which spurs Eddie into backing up into the headboard. Steve follows quickly behind.

Steve tucks himself into Eddie’s collarbone. He settles easily, even though Eddie is still incredibly tense.

“Tell me the other thing you came here to say.” Steve demands.

“Oh darling I like you so much. I’ll stay with you forever, I’m so sorry for leaving.” Eddie rambles, like the floodgates holding him back had been released.

“Again?” Steve said quietly, barely louder than his breath.

“I like you a lot, Steve. I got the biggest crush on you. Never thought you’d ever like someone like me. I don’t deserve you.” Eddie ends with a damn near whimper, but Steve’s resolve didn’t change in the face of Eddie’s words.

“You’re right, you don’t. You left me and you were planning on leaving me again if I didn’t accept your apology. It’s been days and all I want is to be with my boyfriend.” Steve’s voice slowly tampered down to a whisper as he spoke.

“I didn’t think of it like that.” Eddie murmured shamefully.

“Yea, no shit.” Steve snapped.

“I’m sorry.”

“Your formal apology better be fucking amazing.” Steve countered playfully.

“I’ll do my best.” Eddie pauses for a second. “What if it’s not good enough?”

“Then I break up with you.” Eddie deflates slightly. Steve continues though. “I can’t be with someone who doesn’t value me or respect me, I’ve made that mistake before.”

Eddie felt his stomach sink, but began to brainstorm on how to make it up to Steve.

Btw El and Will are making Brownies for Steve rn.

PART 3 IS HERE

Omg I’m such an ass, pt 3 coming soon if I’m harassed enough to do it.

Also, psa if you fuck up big, you need to actually show you’re sorry. Don’t apologize to make yourself feel better, apologize to make the other person feel better. Make an actual effort to not repeat your past actions. If someone doesn’t accept your apology, remember you aren’t entitled to their forgiveness. No matter how much society tries to act like you deserve it for simply apologizing.

Also if it isn’t evident, I was forced to accept a lot of apologies when I didn’t want to.

@stripey82 @genderfluidbitch @mensch-anthropos-human @c4tharsys @scoops-aboy86 @breealtair @raleighrox @wannabe-edgy-grandpa @flustratedcas @shoujo-wizard @polysdoitforscience @exasperatedsighohmy @piemaker93 @tinyplanet95 @skepticalqueen @sharingisntkaren @scarletyeager @crypticcrytid @midnightskeeper @wheneverfeasible @ancientwormcivilization @fucjinf-whatever-dude @estrellami-1 @queenofshenanigans @grilledcheesehasfeelings <- get out of my walls

@ellietheasexylibrarian @live-laugh-love-dietrich @turinspeachjam @me-ig7 @revevivant @motherofpirates @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @samsoble @legalmenace87 @thehanwen @bigspongey @thedragonsaunt @newagemyth @pentapoctopus @my-hyperfixations-hell-blog @bumbledoubletea @blackbirdflyflyfly @what-if-a-dragon @reddiandbyler4life @i-think-i-thunk @gregre369 @fiddledeedee85 @ladykailitha

Rest of the mentions will be in the comments because fuck there is a lot of you.

[b0kevi]

Okay so I loveddddd your writing of the let’s make out headcanons!!! Can you do a version where the character says it to the reader? Your writing is so good and you write the characters reallly well!!

the house wardens + jamil saying “let’s make out” every time YOU do something hot

summary: every time you do something attractive the housewardens can’t help but say ‘let’s make out’

trope: established relationship, suggestive themes, hurt/comfort, reassurance

info: name calling, cursing, self doubt, they/them pronouns, gender neutral reader, not proofread

characters: riddle, leona, azul, kalim, jamil, vil, idia, malleus

w/c: riddle: 373, leona: 398, azul: 346, kalim: 338 jamil: 366, vil: 424 idia: 424, malleus: 388

a/n: tysm! I always get worried i’ll mischaracterize someone but I really appreciate that <3 also sorry this took so long! I started a new job

Riddle

doesn’t know how to ask, will make up an excuse

gets shy and full on blushes

“we should make out.”

“w-what?” you accidentally painted the leaves instead of the rose.

“rule 879 states to make out with your partner when the sun is facing east after the first set of painted roses.”

you blinked. you were still working on the first bush of roses, you only painted three while there was still a lot more to go.

“we haven’t finished yet.”

riddles ears slowly turn pink. “it’s practically done.”

you could tell it was a lie but he looked so cute trying to justify his reasons.

“y’know you don’t have to make up stuff for us to make out, you could just ask.”

his whole face starts to turn a different color, “I did not make that up! it is the queens rules and I must follow them!”

riddle would never admit he was in fact making it up because you looked absolutely stunning, he loved spending alone time with you. the two of you were painting the roses, riddle was going to reward you with dessert but he couldn’t wait. you just being there, painting was making him flush and wanted to kiss you badly.

you laughed then grabbed him by his bow tie, pulling him closer to your face.

“well then, who am I to question the house warden? go on, you’re not going to break a rule aren’t you riddle?” you smirked as you fiddle with the ends of his bow tie.

riddle moved forward before he could process anything. his body moved faster than his brain so he lunged back, flustered.

“w-wait! ahem. it’s also the queens rule to do it in private… someone could see…”

“hmm what if it was the rule to do it in public? would you do it?”

“absolutely not! I don’t want to hear it from ace or trey… please let’s just go inside before I change my mind…” riddle was already rushing inside hand in hand with you, using his other hand to hide his red face.

“you’re the one that said it was a rule, you’re going to break that rule now mr. roseheart?”

he sighs, you’ll be the death of him.

Leona

nonchalant king

it’s not a suggestion, you ARE making out right then and there

there’s nothing more attractive to leona than you claiming him as your own.

he’s always been second to everyone and everything. but seeing you like this?

“we’re going to make out.” it’s not a question, he’s demanding it.

leona was waiting in the botanical garden for you, enjoying the quiet when he started hearing students near by. he tried to ignore it but he suddenly heard your voice, he wasn’t super interested in the conversation until he heard his name.

“you’re really dating leona? I bet he buys you whatever you want right?”

“what a gold digger. you’re only dating him for his money. plus he’s a prince, you hit the jackpot.”

“too bad he’s the second prince, not much going on. you should have tried for malleus.”

leona was getting pissed, he was going to march his way over there until he heard your booming voice.

“you’re lucky I don’t slap the shit out of you two. it’s none of your business, but for the record I am not dating him for his money. I couldn’t care less and he’s still a prince who has more class than you.”

your face darkened as you stalked close to them

“I’m dating leona for him, he’s the most sweetest and thoughtful person I know, and he knows how to treat people right instead of taking out his jealousy on other people.”

you were defending him, leona knew you could defend yourself but you were also defending him.

leona could have easily stepped in before the whole situation started but seeing how things played out, he’s glad he didn’t.

“is there a problem here?” leona was towering over the two as they were about to continue. shutting them up they shook their heads and left with a scoff.

“babe I’m sor-“

“we’re making out. now.” leona tugged you behind a tree, leaning down to attach his lips to yours, leaving you no room to deny, caging you in his arms.

leona is acting like a starved man by the way hes devouring your lips, leaving you no time to think.

“that was kind of hot herbivore.” it was extremely hot to him but he’s just going to show you how attractive he found you defending him was. just wait until you get back to his room.

Azul

full of bull

also will make an excuse, says it’s his payment for doing smth for you

“y/n dear, could you meet me in my office to discuss something.”

what did you do now… you don’t remember doing anything wrong.

you were helping out in the lounge since it was busier than usual.

once azul closed the door shut,

“I propose a deal. we make out right now and later.. and I’ll give you the day off tomorrow with some of our newest drinks that i know you love.”

honestly, azul has been stressed all day and is just throwing out random ideas to have an excuse to make out with you.

he’s not going to just straight up ask, this is a give and take world.

“uhm, but it’s still pretty busy out there��“

“I assure you they’re capable of running things for a few minutes. or hour..”

you were his escape and he needed it badly, it was a madhouse out there. he usually could handle it but it also didn’t help how attractive you looked while taking peoples orders, persuading them into buying more than what they came for.

“please my pearl, remember that time I babysat grim? you still owe me for that.”

that one time that happened two months ago that you’ll never let happen again.

you remember azul used that the last time he wanted to make out with you, but you weren’t going to rain down on his parade just yet.

you knew azul was just going to keep persuading you until you agreed. he would never outright say he wants to kiss you no, he has a reputation to uphold.

you sighed, wrapping your arms around his neck and smashing your lips against his.

he let out a squeal from shock, he didn’t expect that.

his face flush from that embarrassing noise he made but held you close, deepening the kiss as he felt his stress melt away. he’s not planning on letting you go anytime soon, the outside world can wait and deal with themselves.

Kalim

he just loves kissing you, you don’t have to be doing anything and he’ll still say it

will get pouty and pepper you with kisses until you agree

“let’s make out!”

"kalim... we're supposed to be studying right now."

"we have! don't I get a reward for studying? sometimes once I finish jamil gives me a treat!" kalim has been staring at you for the past 20 minutes.

you promised jamil to study with kalim and make sure he gets his work done but its not going so well.

"okay but you only answered two questions then started staring at me."

"you look so pretty! your serious face is so cute, how am I supposed to focus when you look like that! I want to make out with you!” he doesn’t give you time to say anything, kalim is already pouting and putting his best puppy dog eyes while peppering small kisses across your face.

“pleaassseee, just a small break then i’ll do my work! i promise!! pleaseee let me kiss youuu” he whines as he wraps his arms around your neck, practically on top of you while leaving sad kisses on your cheek.

“I need my daily y/n kisses or I can’t make it throughout the day! i’ve been deprived for so long…”

“I gave you a morning kiss, a kiss when I saw you, a kiss when you asked for one, a kiss when I left…”

kalim furrowed his eyebrows, “that doesn’t count! I need my daily make out kisses, completely different!”

you laughed at his kicked puppy look.

how could you say no to that face?

sighing you state, “alright. just for a minute then if you get an answer right i’ll give you a reward.”

“kisses reward?”

you nodded, “kisses reward.”

he giggling as he won, he slams his lips towards yours. playing with your hair as he deepens the kiss, he smiles every time you make little noises. kalim absolutely loves to kiss you silly and will do it every chance he gets.

Jamil

he just needs a break

usually says it at his breaking point so it’s really rough and quick sometimes

“let’s make out.”

it caught you so off guard. Jamil had pulled you into a storage room, you were carrying some paperwork you had to turn in but they soon were scattered from how quickly jamil pulled you in.

“w-what? babe I-“

“please, it will be quick I just…” his hand cupping your face as his lips brushed against yours, muttering against them

“I need this.” he murmured breathily before pressing his lips firmly while running his fingers through your hair.

“you looked so hot earlier,” he pushed you against the wall, gently squeezing your hip while traveling down kisses to your jawline

you didn't know how to react. it was rare when jamil showed pda especially this passionate in public. well you two were stuck in a closet but still anyone could walk in at any moment.

“you putting kalim and the others in their place.. you were so assertive.” his lips never leaving an inch away from you, “very hot of you.” he smirked as he looked up at you through his eyelashes.

he loves seeing how flustered you get because of him. he may not show much interest in public but that’s just because he’s a private person and loves teasing you when you two are alone.

he loves your little reactions.

“I-I just wanted them to give you a break”

“I appreciate you so much.” jamil sighs between your lips, rubbing circles on your hip while deepening the kiss.

jamil knew he should get back to his things but you were so addicting. how could he leave you right now?

he groans as he pulled away to look at you, smirking at your blown out expression

“let me show you how much I appreciate you, later tonight.” he winked before getting one last kiss then picking up your papers, leaving the room to turn in your work as if nothing happened.

jamil was completely unfazed unless you looked real close but you were red the rest of the day, clearly not thinking straight.

you will never get used to this side of jamil.

Vil

hear me out, he's secretly a freak

stress reliever

“are you sure it looks good?”

“my dear.. we’re not going out. we’re making out. right now.”

“w-huh?? but my outfit… is it not, or my makeup?”

the two of you were getting ready for date night, you had bought a new outfit for this occasion that you really liked but now you weren’t so sure if it looked good now.

vil on the other hand couldn’t look away. you looked absolutely radiant and you’re over here having second thoughts? please, he obviously needs to show you how good you look.

“my love you look stunning, there’s no need to worry.” vil was kissing you all over, you had some lipstick stains but he wasn’t going to tell you about that yet.

“baby.. we’re going to be late to our reservation..”

“we can reschedule or go somewhere else.”

vil couldn’t care less, he needed to make out with you now and show you how much he loves you.

“v-vil you’re going to mess up our makeup…”

he leans down, leaving more stains scattered across your neck and collarbone as he smirks against your warm skin.

“good. you look even more divine like this.”

he guides you to his bed not once breaking the kiss as he sets you down

“you’re perfect love, this outfit compliments you so well and you’re makeup looks even better now~” he smirks, caressing your face looking at you longingly

you turn to look at yourself through the mirror to see all the lipstick stains he left. you blush over how much of a mess you look.

“v-vil! I can’t go out like this! it’s going to take another 40 minutes to take this off and redo it.”

“why not? I think you look breathtaking, why not show everyone your beauty?” he mused, still trailing kisses over you.

“vil your makeup is messed up too” you state as you try to fix the smudges around his lips but he keeps diving back down into you.

“does it look like I can right now darling? right now I need to show you how much you mean to me. we can go out another day, I have all I need right here.”

vil cages you down before roughly yet gracefully devouring your lips.

he’ll do whatever it takes to make you feel comfortable in your own body just as you make him comfortable enough to look like an absolute mess in front of you, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Idia

he would mumble it, thinking you didn't hear it

he didn’t mean it! (he totally meant it he just doesn’t know how to ask)

"we should totally make out..."

"okay."

"wh-HUHH?? y-you heard that?? I-I didn't mean it!”

you were helping out idia with some equipment he needed to fix. you picked up a couple things from watching him tinker plus this was a great opportunity to spend time with him.

idia wasn’t in the best mindset today so he kept messing up and getting frustrated when it still wasn’t working right so you wanted to give it a try to help him out. you fixed it just like that in seconds.

he watched you in shock. not only did you fix in on the first try but the face you make when you’re focused was just too much for him.

a strand of hair fell in front of your face, he wanted so badly to tuck it behind your ear but that would be totally cringe otome vibes.

“idy you can ask if you want to, I won’t judge.”

the tips of his hair are pastel pink as he fidgets with his sleeves.

“w-what the… can I exist and restart.. there’s gotta be an autosave before this…” he murmurs mostly to himself under his breath

even when he really wants to kiss you, he still gets in his head so even when he wants to, you have to initiate it.

you hold onto his hands and kiss his cheek. “no need to restart. this route is perfect.”

he gasps while looking at you with full blown out eyes, staring at you like you just deleted his saved file.

“you’re an ultra rare SSR…”

you laugh as you place your lips to his. you couldn’t get enough of this dork.

idia fiddles with the ends of your shirt as he ease into the kiss. you’re too good to him, he doesn’t know how or why you picked him but he’s beyond grateful.

and just like that something flipped inside him, he curled his hand around your neck before taking the lead. he still has self doubt so he’ll slip up but when you encourage him he grows confident.

leaving you two breathless with his hair full pink with blue accents. he smiles at you before kissing your temple then diving back into your lips, holding your hand with his free one to ground himself, letting him know this is okay and he’s doing good.

“I must have crazy gacha luck to have pulled you..”

Malleus

you breathe and he’ll say he wants to make out

100% whip, simp, yearning man

“child of man. I believe we should make out.”

“hmm?”

the two of you were taking a nightly stroll that you usually do mostly every night when you can.

it was a peaceful night, you would share things that happened during the day or whatever popped in your mind as you held hands.

the conversation soon died down into a comfortable silence as you took in sight of the night sky.

malleus was too busy staring at you to appreciate the night. the way the moonlight hit your face just right making you eternal which made his face feel warm.

he wanted nothing more than to take your breath away if you’ll let him.

“I would very much like to kiss you. I want us to have a make out session and leave you breathless to show you how you make me feel every time I lay eyes on you.”

your face heated up with every word malleus spoke.

you stopped walking to process his request. malleus is a gentleman so will only make a move if you’ll let him, if you don’t want to he’ll understand. he will get pouty but wants nothing more than for you to be comfortable.

he waits patiently but has that longing look in his eyes with a hint of desire.

“o-okay.” you nod, still flush as malleus steps closer, one hand caressing your face as if you’re a piece of glasswork then dipping down to capture your lips.

he pulls back to see your face then dives back in. each time becomes longer than the previous kiss. he sure was making you breathless.

you finally had to pull back to get some air but malleus goes down to nuzzle your neck, occasionally leaving kisses.

“you are absolutely ravishing child of man. what you’re feeling is how I feel every time you’re near, and I adore it. I would want nothing more than to leave you sweet kisses and show the world my queen.”

you don’t know what makes you more breathless, malleus’s words or his kisses.

“you sweet talker, get over here.” you needed to shut him up before you exploded. you pulled him down and smashed your lips to his.

malleus was in paradise.

﹒⭒﹒⭒﹒⭒﹒

a/n: that scenario has been on my mind for leona but the others idk what to do T-T sorry if this is short! have a great day/night !

[rafesangelita]

♡ when rafe finally let’s his friend have a taste..

warnings: dealer!rafe, heavy teasing, both rafe and barry are bullies in this, threesome, oral (f. receiving), praise, groping

a/n: i know the celebration req says topper and barry, but i want to slowly start introducing barry to this blog so i excluded topper in this one.. don’t worry though, topper will be in another fic this week ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

“we won’t be here for long, alright? i don’t wanna hear you whining while i’m doing business, got it?” you hummed, rafe’s words going in through one ear and right out the other as you followed him up the steps to barry’s trailer. despite having been here plenty of times already, you couldn’t help but get shy and hold onto rafe’s arm whenever barry opened the door and flashed you a wink while giving you a full view of that gold-glinted smile of his as you brushed past him to get inside the cluttered living room. “lookin’ pretty as always..” he drawled, motioning for you to take a seat on the dingy sofa.

glancing at rafe, he gave you a nod before him and barry walked into the kitchen and started discussing their profits. you already knew the drill at this point; sit pretty and watch whatever old movie barry’s shitbox of a tv currently played until you grew bored and bothered rafe to take you home. losing count of the minutes you had been in the same spot, you sighed out loud in hopes of rafe hearing you. barry caught it first, his eyes flickering up to where you rested your cheek on the armrest of the couch. you looked heavenly just lying there, your babydoll dress fanning out around your thighs.

“i think someone’s ready to go home.” he laughed, drawing rafe’s attention away from the scale in front of him. “ignore her, she’s only going to keep on with her shit—” rafe didn’t even get to finish his sentence before he felt the sheer material of your dress brush against his arm. “can i sit here, please?” he hated how sweet you sounded asking him, an annoyed huff leaving his lips as he hastily brought you down onto his lap. “don’t go touching nothing.” he scolded just as you had reached for the journal they were doing their math and inventory in.

barry snorted, shaking his head as you retracted your hand, pursing your lips together before leaning back against rafe’s chest. sitting on the couch wasn’t any different, considering rafe still acted like you weren’t in the same room with him while you fiddled with a loose thread on the collar of his shirt. you only took five minutes of his negligence before wrapping your arms around his neck, whispering a small ‘please touch me, ray..’ as barry’s heated gaze raked down your figure. “what did i tell you?” rafe said through gritted teeth, shrugging you off of him.

“you see what i have to deal with all fucking day? she could never keep her hands to herself.” rafe cursed. barry laughed, both of them finding amusement in your needy tendencies. you shrunk in on yourself, feeling your cheeks heat as they continued teasing you, each insult topping the other until you couldn’t take it anymore, your eyes brimming with tears as you got up and ran away to barry’s room in the back. “aww, where are you going?!” rafe called out, rolling his eyes as you shouted back at him. “leave me alone!” you plopped down on the mattress, bringing your knees up to your chest.

barry cleared his throat as their laughter eventually died down, both of them sitting in silence with nothing but your sniffling sounding from the other room. rafe sighed, now feeling a little bit bad for making you cry. “what do you say we give her all the attention we could spare right now?” at this, barry’s head shot up in his direction. “we?” he repeated, his eyebrows pinching together in confusion. with a curt nod, rafe leaned forward. “you’re always saying how bad you wanna know how she tastes like, right?” barry waited for the man in front of him to say he was kidding but it never came.

“let’s go make her feel better.”

the last thing you expected was barry and rafe to walk into the room, both of them circling you as if you were caught prey. within minutes, rafe had you seated between his legs, your back resting against his chest as barry looked up at you from your inner thighs. “look at him, baby, he’s wanted to do this to you for so long..” rafe whispered, hiking your dress up around your hips so barry could get a clear view of your bare cunt. you swallowed nervously, having never been touched by anyone else except rafe. “don’t be scared, sweetheart, i’ll take such good care of you.” barry pressed a soft kiss to your folds before locking your thighs in over his shoulders.

rafe watched his business partner carefully, his cock growing hard at the sight. finally running his tongue up and down your slit, you gasped when you felt barry flick the muscle over your sensitive bud. “shit—” he laughed, his stubble tickling your skin, “you taste so fucking sweet, doll, me and your boyfriend here might have to fight over you.” rafe smiled before cupping your tits through your lacey bra, a small sting of pain making you whine as he roughly groped the flesh. “nah, we won’t have to fight. she can take us both.” you moaned, your hips instinctively moving away from barry’s mouth.

“don’t try to run from this, sheep, i’m gonna have you screaming for more in no time.” you squirmed, hiding your face in rafe’s shirt as barry worked skillful circles around your clit. squeezing your cheeks together, rafe forced you to look down as barry continued making you whimper. you felt yourself wanting to reach down and pull barry’s hair, the pure unadulterated pleasure making you dig your nails into your skin. barry saw you making crescents in your flesh from how hard you were clawing at yourself, his hands coming up to place yours on his head. “you could pull, ‘pretty, you won’t hurt me.”

threading your fingers through his hair, you let out a cry once he slipped his tongue inside your entrance, the tip of his nose nudging against your clit. rafe rolled your nipples between his fingers, his jaw falling slack as you trembled from barry’s ministrations. “i want you to cum and think about us sharing you,” rafe groaned, “..think about us both filling you up.” you breathed in, feeling yourself fall over the edge as rafe praised you for being so good for them. you nearly shrieked when the band in your tummy snapped and barry did nothing to slow down on your poor cunt.

“bear!” you squealed, pulling his head away before overstimulation can set in. looking down at him did nothing but turn you on even more, the sight of the pussy drunk expression on his face making you whine. barry couldn’t get enough, and now that he had a taste of you, there was no going back. rafe shifted his weight behind you, his cock poking your back as you leaned against him in defeat. “why don’t you return the favor, baby? you suck him off while i pound you in for whining when i told you not to.”

thank you nonnie for celebrating with me ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

[minalover]

alright friends and enemies, gather round, it's time to talk.

first of all, looks like we're a little fuzzy on the term gaslighting. so, to refresh your memory:

Gaslighting is a form of manipulation that often occurs in abusive relationships. It is a covert type of emotional abuse where the bully or abuser misleads the target, creating a false narrative and making them question their judgments and reality.

good. now that that's out of the way.

i got triggered by a post today, floating around the side of the fandom that doesn't cross my dash that often, that i didn't expect to hit that hard. see, that's the thing about triggers. most of the time, they're not big, scary, overall concepts. most of the time, they're very small. very specific. words, actions, tones. and i didn't expect this one to hit me. but it did. so hard that i've been trying not to cry for the past hour or so and inspired me to write this down. because it's unbelievably clear, due to the behavior over the last few days, that we need to talk.

eddie's behavior in the kitchen fight in 8x17 was not abusive. point blank. and calling it so is disingenuous. this was a painful and very realistic fight between two people who love and support each other and, due to outrageous circumstances, cannot fight clean. eddie cuts buck to the quick. buck does the same to eddie. the hand on the shoulder and pointer finger is the same behavior we've seen from eddie multiple times, ranging from goofy (bachelor party) to vulnerable (post-tsunami) to supportive (when buck comes out to eddie). this one was done in rage and grief. of course it doesn't look the same. of course it feels different. (from a cinematographical perspective, if they had wanted it to read as abusive, they would have shown it to us. but they didn't. so make your own conclusions if you're able.)

eddie does not have a history of violent or abusive behavior. if you're about to lean on the he almost killed a guy in fight club, yeah. he did. are you also talking about lena bosko, who got him into the first club, in the same way? do you want to talk about how eddie was using it as the world's worst coping mechanism to avoid grief? or how he immediately worked to save the man's life, call for help, and quit? no? okay. you know how else i know he doesn't have a history of violent behavior? because no one is afraid of him. not his son, not his aunt, not his parents, not his coworkers, not his girlfriends, not his wife. so go ahead and wrap that up.

eddie bringing chris and pepa home wasn't love bombing. again, let's go through definitions - [l]ove bombing is an attempt to influence another person with over-the-top displays of attention and affection. so just right off the bat, not the same. what eddie did was apologize to buck in the way he can hear it. we've been talking about love languages and, even though they come from a heteronormative and religious place, they're still helpful in this conversation here. eddie is always supporting buck with words and buck is always supporting eddie with actions. in this moment? eddie realizes that what buck's been struggling with is that lack of family (shown to the audience as the lack of family meals compared with pre-bobby's death). so to apologize and show his love, he brings family together to share a meal. just because it didn't sound like an apology to you doesn't mean it didn't sound like one to buck.

just because it isn't racist to you doesn't mean it doesn't come from racism. as we walk through white fragility 101 together, there is a difference between hey you're racist and hey that thing you said comes from a racist and problematic place can we break it down. holding a character of color (chimney and, in this case, eddie) to different standards than white characters (bobby and buck) is derived from racist ideology whether you intend for it to be or not. so take a step back and look at why you seem to be reacting in this specific way to this specific behavior by this specific character. i can't ask you to unravel every implicit bias you've ever been taught, but i can ask you to take a look at your actions if a bunch of people are pointing it out.

there is gaslighting happening here, but not how you think. the way some folks in this fandom have been posting and reacting to the buddie 8x17 kitchen scene have truly made me second guess everything i'd been seeing. the constant, vitriolic reaction to something i didn't find that upsetting made me go back and watch again and again. did i miss something, am i not able to see it, what's going on? and, here we go kids--what's happening here is gaslighting.

it is a covert type

of emotional abuse

where the bully or abuser misleads the target

creating a false narrative

making them question their judgments and reality.

finally, let's look at what you're specifically not saying. by saying that eddie is abusive, that it looked like he was going to come after buck with a knife, that buddies are sick for romanticizing the behavior (which i haven't seen but okay we'll go with it for now), you're implying that the people who support (or don't actively stand against) eddie's behavior in this episode are no better than abusers themselves. that's your underlying message. by spinning his non-abusive behavior as abuse, taking that narrative for truth, and putting everyone who doesn't agree with you on the opposite side of that argument, you're calling us abusers. and i, frankly, take issue with that.

i need you to understand the difference between uncomfortable and unsafe. i need you to understand that this was not inherently romantic, but emotionally vulnerable. and i need you to understand that clinging to your morally superior high horse will not save you in the real world.

if you want to come yell at me, by all means. anon is off, so you gotta do it with your whole chest. i'd much rather talk about it. i'm here to do white fragility 101 if you need it.

[kxsagi]

I just saw the manga panel... I am definately not okay...

“𝐛𝐮𝐡! 🤍”

a/n: you will be now!

also baby name credits go to you yumi <3

you find him exactly where you expect to. on the living room floor. 

half-covered by a fuzzy white blanket, hair all messy and sticking out in different directions, your 9-month-old baby boy, seishu, asleep on his chest like a tiny backpack worn wrong-side up. there’s a pacifier dangling from seishu’s mouth, the TV is playing a paused video of some baby sensory thing with ducks and bubbles, and nagi is out cold. 

you fold your arms and lean against the doorframe. 

you’d asked him to watch the baby so you could do dishes. now you’re doing dishes and laundry and checking on your two sleeping boys. 

but you can’t even pretend to be annoyed. 

because your heart flips every time you see nagi like this. one arm around his son like a reflex, hand spread wide across the baby’s back, hoodie all scrunched up from baby drool and tiny fist grabbing. seishu’s cheek is squished against nagi’s chest, mouth open in pure peace. 

you tiptoe over and crouch beside them. 

“sei,” you whisper, brushing his bangs off his forehead. 

he groans quietly. “mm… i was just resting my eyes…” 

“sure you were.” 

his lashes flutter open, and he gives you that sleepy, lazy look that still makes your chest flutter. then he glances down at seishu. a soft smile spreads across his lips. 

“he knocked out mid-wiggle,” he whispers. “couldn’t even finish the episode.” 

you laugh. “he is your son.” 

“’course he is. look, he sleeps like me, too.” 

as if on cue, seishu lets out a tiny snore. 

you melt on the spot. “he’s been trying to say ‘dad,’ by the way.” 

“really?” nagi’s voice perks up a bit. 

“mhm.” 

your son shifts slightly in his sleep, letting out a soft babble. “buh.” 

nagi blinks. “... buh?” 

“yep. that’s you now.” 

“buh,” nagi repeats, like he’s trying it on. “kinda sounds like a pokémon.” 

you giggle. “you do kind of function like one. sleeps a lot. slow movements. powers up with snacks.” 

he leans over and nudges his face into your shoulder. “you forgot the strongest trait: cuddle attack.” 

“weakest defense, though.” 

“shh,” he whispers dramatically, as if seishu can hear you. “he’s listening.” 

your son stirs again and lets out another, softer “buh.” 

nagi beams. “okay. that’s it. he’s officially my favorite person.” 

“you say that every day.” 

“and i mean it every day.” 

you laugh and lean against him, kissing the top of his head. “you’re so soft now, you know that?” 

“you saying i was mean before?” 

“no. you were just... effort-efficient.” 

“i still am,” he mumbles. “this position’s max comfy. baby on chest. blanket. you here. TV paused on ducks. ten out of ten.” 

“what about diapers?” 

“what about them?” 

“he peed.” 

nagi’s eyes open just a little wider. 

you raise an eyebrow. “rock paper scissors?” 

“lazy people don’t play games,” he says. “we negotiate.” 

“fine. change him and i’ll warm up the bottle.” 

he pretends to think. “… do i get cuddles later?” 

“only if the diaper goes on the right way this time.” 

“no promises,” he mutters, but he’s already shifting the baby gently off his chest with the skill of a seasoned expert (and also someone who’s been peed on three times this week). 

you watch him carry seishu in one arm like he weighs nothing, murmuring, “c’mon, little guy. let’s get you into something less soggy.” 

your son blinks blearily at him and drools a little. “buh.” 

nagi’s whole face softens. “yeah, yeah. i know.” 

he disappears down the hallway, and you grab the bottle, smiling to yourself. 

you hadn’t expected parenthood to suit nagi so well. he’d once told you he thought having kids sounded “kinda exhausting,” back when you were just dating. he hadn’t been wrong. there are messy nights and long cries and spit-ups on every shirt you own. 

but somewhere in the middle of it all, he fell in love with it. 

with you. 

with the way seishu clings to him like he’s home. with the sleepy “buh” babbles that mean “dad” even if he’s not saying it perfectly. with the quiet joy of being the soft place his baby always wants to be. 

a few minutes later, nagi returns, holding a much more refreshed, very alert seishu in his arms. 

“he tried to roll away during the change,” he informs you. “almost wiped shit on my shirt.” 

“language!” but you can’t contain your laugh. “did he succeed?” 

“barely dodged. god-tier reflexes.” 

seishu wiggles in his arms, reaching toward you with grabby hands. 

“mama,” he mumbles. 

nagi’s jaw drops. “what?! he says that correctly?” 

you grin smugly. “i win.” 

“nah,” he says, sitting beside you and plopping the baby between you both. “we both win.” 

you pass the bottle, and seishu latches onto it happily, nestled between two warm bodies who love him more than anything. 

and just before his eyes start to close again, he lets out one last little sigh. “buh.” 

nagi grins. “that’s my boy, seishu.” 

you smile because love, it turns out, sounds a lot like “buh.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[madebycloud]

not a lot, just forever

jinx/powder x reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: the love between parent and child is truly not just a lot… but it's forever. (requested by anon). warnings/themes: fluff & slight angst, found family, domestic, parents au, vulnerability, wife!jinx words: 1.6k notes: happy mother's day :)

The day hasn't been going great.

Apparently Isha got into a bit of trouble today at school while she was playing with the other kids.

You're both sitting on the couch, Jinx on one end, and you on the opposite.

“Should we give her a lecture?” you suggest. “Let her know what she did was wrong?”

Jinx scoffs at your suggestion. “A lecture from both of us? you're really gonna make her feel guilty just for being a kid and screwing up?”

“I don't know!” you retort. “What do you suggest we do, then? just let it slide? it wasn't a minor thing she did. She could have seriously injured one of those kids.”

“It's... not that bad.”

“Not that...not that bad?” you repeat and stare at your wife in disbelief. “Have you lost your mind? she got suspended for two weeks! I don't understand why you're being so...so...lenient.”

“I'm lenient?” she says. “I just don't think a lecture is going to be of any use, especially if she doesn't think she did anything wrong.”

“She doesn't think she did anything wrong,” you say slowly. “Because you have been spoiling her rotten.”

“So she has a few special privileges.”

“A few? you're literally spoiling her, Jinx. She's turning more and more disobedient each day! You're just allowing her to do whatever she wants!”

Jinx glares at you. “So what? I'm letting her have her fun, unlike those uptight school teachers that get mad because a ten-year-old girl got a little too rough on the playground.”

You groan. “You need to stop feeding this behavior. This kind of thing would never have happened if-”

“-Oh, here we go,” she interrupts, rolling her eyes.

“I was going to say, ‘if we had just talked to her like normal parents’” you continue. “No one is calling you a bad mother. But you do realize that you need to set boundaries and actually tell her no once in a while.”

“Boundaries?” she repeats, scoffing. “You don't think I know how to set boundaries?”

“I just don't think you know the difference between being a parent and being a glorified-”

“I swear, if you continue with that sentence-”

“-Can you just stop?” you ask. “Can you, for one moment, just quit arguing and really listen? you realize that we're talking about Isha, right?”

She doesn't reply and simply averts her gaze, sulking.

You soften your tone, hoping that maybe this time, she'll actually listen and understand. “I'm not attacking you, Jinx. Isha was suspended. Suspended. Because instead of just playing a normal game, she decided that roughhousing was the way to go. And now that she's here, it hasn't fazed her at all-”

“I know that.“

“Then why do you still act like she did nothing wrong? if you act like it's not a big deal to her, then she's going to do it again.”

“...I know.”

You see her body slumping into the couch cushion. “You know, you're a good mother. I really think you are. But sometimes.... you let her get away with a lot.”

Jinx avoids eye contact but nods, her hand reaches to her shoulder and she picks at a loose thread on her shirt.

“I'm not talking about the times when she's staying up too late or she doesn't want to finish her vegetables. I'm talking about the fact that she's acting out in school,” you see her glance at you before looking away again, “she's doing things that kids her age really shouldn't be doing.”

“I'm...” she mumbles before burying her face in her hands. “I have no idea how to do this.”

That statement stuns you silent.

She admitted it.

Not as a joke. No sarcasm, no snark, just her...actually realizing how out of control things have gotten.

With all the courage you can muster, you stand up and kneel in front of her. You slowly reach out, take her hands into yours, gently pull them away from her face, and then kiss both her hands.

You feel her body tense at your first touch, and it's a good thing that she's refusing to look at you too because you can't look at her either. 

You're scared of looking into her eyes and seeing hatred or disgust... because what if this is the last straw, and she's just done?

But at the same time, you want to know, you need to know.

You take a risk, slowly letting your gaze travel from her knuckles to her wrist, to her arms, to her shoulders, to her collar, and then finally you look up.

And instead of the rage that you were expecting, you immediately get a jolt in your chest.

She's crying.

A few lone tears are making their way down her cheeks, but her eyes are red, and there's an undeniable quiver to that bottom lip.

She... she's looking at you with those eyes, and you can tell, you can just tell, that Jinx is holding herself back from looking away. She's holding that little thread of composure together as fiercely as that fraying thread on her shirt.

And all of your words, every thought, and all of the frustration you may have had, it's all gone.

You can't feel angry at her, seeing those tears in her eyes. If anything, you feel angry at yourself. For making her cry, for making her upset.

“Jinx-” you start, but any other words you had are swallowed down when you realize that saying her name is enough to make her eyes leak even more.

“...I'm... I'm sorry, I... I just-” she mumbles, choking back a sob, “I just.... I was scared. I still am. I...I don't know what I'm doing... I....I really.... really don't.”

“Don't apologize. That's not what I want,” you say. “This... parenting thing...it's confusing. For both of us. It's not like we can ask anyone for advice...”

“I just.. I wanted to be better than him,” she whispers. “I just want to do the right thing. I...I want to be a good mother.”

You sigh and let go of her hands, turning to sit next to her on the couch and pulling her into a hug. She drops all of her walls, and she clings to you, burying her face in the crook of your neck.

“... I'm.... I'm trying. I'm really, really f-f-fucking trying...”

“We're trying,” you repeat, your hands rubbing circles gently along her back. “We are. We're trying our best, we really are… we're both trying to do the best thing for her. We're both scared of making mistakes.”

She doesn't respond vocally, but you do feel her nodding.

“We just... we just need to be honest,” you continue. “We need to be honest with each other, and... and we need to be honest with Isha.”

“I'm sorry…” 

“Please stop that. Stop saying sorry. I know you just want to spoil her, to give her the world. You... you just have trouble saying no... and setting boundaries. We both do.”

“We suck at being adults and we suck at being parents.”

“We're both a little childish ourselves,” you say and you feel her nodding again, “and our poor kid is growing up with us, what a terrifying thought.”

She pouts. “... yeah,” she mumbles.

“Yeah,” you echo. “We both need to work on that,” you say, bringing a hand up to wipe the last tears away from her cheek. “You give her the whole moon, and I… I hold her hand and remind her that her feet are still on the ground.”

She snorts at that and even lets out a small laugh through her tears.

“We're not perfect,” you go on. “We're far from it. We've both got things to work on. There's no... there's no rulebook. No manual to follow. No way to... no way to do this whole ‘parenting’ thing except for trial and error. We're going to mess up. It's inevitable. We need to mess up, because this is new.”

Jinx's grip on you tightens even more.

“We will mess up. We will fight. We will argue, but... but we will never give up. We will never stop trying to do what is best for her. For Isha.”

“For our daughter,” she adds.

Your heart almost melts after hearing those words.

“For our daughter.”

Just then, you hear the sound of a door opening to your side. Both your heads turn, and you see Isha standing in the doorway, holding her blue stuffed bunny.

“Oh, hey sweetie,” you say, as soon as you see Isha come into view “come.”

She slowly walks towards you, never letting go of her beloved bunny. She climbs into your lap along with Jinx, sandwiching herself between you two.

Jinx reaches out to hold her, while you pull up her bunny to brush a few loose strands of hair out of her face. She leans into Jinx, and you can see Jinx's expression soften considerably.

“Hey...” Jinx says, and in spite of her watery eyes, she offers a smile to the little girl.

“We'll talk to her later,” you tell Jinx. “But for now…” let this moment remain unbroken.

She nods and ruffles Isha's hair, drawing a giggle from her.

Isha then cuddles up in your combined arms. 

Jinx gives you a look. A look that you can't quite understand the meaning of at first. But then you see the corners of her lips turn up, just enough for you to catch a ghost of a smile.

She looks... content. Like this is how it's supposed to be.

A family.

You're a family.

You're a family, and you're going to stay that way, come hell or high water.

You don't need a mansion. You don't need riches or jewels. You don't need fame or glory.

You're happy with just being here, with them.

You will never, ever, ask for anything more. Because this is enough.

All you want is for this to last.

Not a lot, just forever.

[pagesfromthevoid]

Tagging in here for the Bob discussion. But imagine after a few times together he gets the confidence to be on top but he is a complete service top (still whiny though)

You’re so right, anon. So very right (this got. Very away from me).

The first few times, he’s so awkward. He’s worried he’s not doing it right, or he’s bad at it. He’s so timid and awkward, and he waits for you to make the first move because he knows what he wants but he doesn’t know what you want. What if you don’t want him touching you there? Or what if he does something you don’t like but won’t say anything so you don’t upset him? So he lets you make the choices.

But after —let’s say, the fourth, fifth time (and a few shattered windows because, well, turns out he doesn't know how to control his powers just yet when he's worked up) —he realizes that…you want him just badly as he wants you. Actually, you might be even more desperate than he is, honestly. Because you’re the one being patient with him. You’re taking everything by his pace; stopping when he needs to stop. Only touching him when he’s made it clear he’s okay with it. While he’s the one “in control,” it’s not really control —you’re just you, and you’re willing to take it slow and take care of him over yourself instead.

And now all he wants is to give you everything.

You’re lounging in his bed one night, reading one of the books from the stack he got from the library. Bob isn’t in the room; he’s been with Bucky and Walker most of the evening, doing god knows what (jokes on you, he was getting a terrible pep talk from both of them on how to do this). Bucky was helpful; gave some relatively functional advice. However, Walker kept repeating to use the alphabet, which was…not great and even Bob knows that. They did make him put on a less baggy tee shirt; something about having confidence in his own appearance would translate into the room.

He missed his sweater.

You only look up when the door opens because there’s a shift in the air; not a bad shift. Just...different suddenly. You put the book aside as he walks in, hands behind his back. He looks a bit rigid; stiff, uncomfortable.

“Where’s your sweater?” You ask, though it’s hard to complain when you can see the veins in his arms properly.

You don’t mind the baggy clothes; he’s comfortable and you find that’s what is most attractive. But it would be a lie to say you’re not pleased to see the lean muscle that he has under this shirt. Outside of being intimate, it wasn't often that you got to see him exposed in any way —even if it was just a t-shirt instead of a sweater.

“Uh, Bucky and Walker took it,” he explains but that sounds bad so he explains further. “Training. We were training and they didn’t want me to train in it. It’s…weird, right? The shirt? I’m not used to wearing things that are so…I don’t know, tight?”

You just hum, tilting your head to the side as you look him over. He looks down some, feeling like he’s being ogled (well, he is. But he's still not used to you staring at him like this).

“I think you look good,” you offer, sitting up properly now. “Not that I don’t like what you usually wear —I like whatever makes you feel good. But I'm not going to pretend that I don't like being able to see more of you whenever I get the chance."

"You do?" He asks, and you can't help but laugh a little. "I'm not much to look at —,"

"Wrong," you quickly interrupt, slowly standing up. "There's a reason why I like to take off your clothes —I like taking my time because I don't get to see all of you often." You pause for a second, taking a moment to consider how much more you could tell him without making him uncomfortable. "It's something that only I get to see. I like to enjoy that."

Bob is staring you down, definitely short-circuiting because neither Bucky nor Walker advised him on how to handle anything you just said. How is it fair that you’re just so…good to him?

But then...he takes a step forward. You don't move; that shift in the air suddenly makes sense and you let Bob decide what he's going to do now. His hands clench into fists a few times, trying to coax himself forward.

You take just barely a step towards him —not even an inch. Something instinctual; something gravitational. Then his hands are on your hips, and his lips are on yours, and he’s pushing you towards the bed. It’s the first time he’s initiated a kiss without outright asking. You melt into the touch, sighing into his mouth as the back of your knees hit the edge of the mattress.

Sometimes you forget that Bob is incredibly powerful. He was, after all, created to be stronger than all of the Avengers combined. He doesn't particularly like using his abilities, but when his hands grip your thighs and lift you up, you gasp in surprise.

"I want to make you feel good," he practically breathes into your mouth, and even though he's the one leading, his voice comes out begging. "You always take care of me —let me do that for you."

You nod frantically, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him into another kiss, but he only let's you get a quick peck in before he's pulling away. You whine a bit, sitting up on your elbows to complain —but you can't find anything to complain about as Bob is slipping his shirt over his head.

It's not the first time you've seen him shirtless. But it's the first time he's taken his shirt off himself, without prompting. Usually he wants to wait until you ask, or you're the one playing with the hem of the shirt and trying to get it off. But the confidence in his movements is both amazing and distractingly attractive, and you're staring unabashedly with lust blown pupils and kiss swollen lips.

Your eyes trail over his skin —the freckles and scars that letter his collarbones, the flush that's spread from his throat down over his chest. Down to his abs and following the V that leads below the waist of his sweats —which are straining from the hard on that's hidden beneath.

"You're staring," he teases, and it's a shaking sort of tease —like he's unsure of if he should be speaking.

"You're hot," you confess, but it's not really a confession at this point.

You've told him he's hot before —he doesn't believe you usually. But the little grin on his face suggests that maybe today, he does.

"You're too good for me," he counters as his hands slide up your thighs and over your hips. Then he's leaning in closer, pressing his lips to your jaw and peppering kisses over your skin.

You buck slightly at the touch, chasing it, and he immediately gives in and slips his fingers beneath the waistband of your leggings. You suck in a breath, and he pauses, but you lift your hips in response, a silent plea to continue. He doesn't hesitate and pries your clothes off of you, tossing them to the floor, before settling between your legs on his knees. You move to take off your shirt but he stops you, one hand holding you down.

"Don't," he warns, puling away to look down at you. "Let me do this for you."

You watch him for a moment but nod, pulling your hands away from your shirt. Bob's hands are slow —not teasing, not purposely at least —dragging up your hips to your waist, pushing your shirt up as he goes. His fingers trail along your ribs, just grazing the edge of your bra. You briefly wonder if he'll try to take it off or if you'll need to do that yourself —but he settles on pulling your shirt over your head first.

Your skin is warm and soft against his fingers, and he's watching as your chest rises with each breath you take in anticipation. You're still sitting up on your elbows, waiting, watching, when he leans down and pulls you up against his chest. One hand is bracing your lower back as the other fumbles with the clasp of your bra.

Confidence doesn't matter when it comes to bras, because they're evil, he decides as he sighs in frustration. He almost caves into the embarrassment, worried he's ruined the moment. But you reach behind your back with ease and unclip it, and toss it away. He wants to complain, and you can see he does, but you wrap your arms around his neck again and pull him into a messy kiss.

It's all teeth and tongues, deepening each second his hands grip you tighter. Then he's laying you back down, dragging his lips from yours to your jaw. Then down your throat. One of his hands holds your hip, but the other is trembling as it approaches your breast and tentatively squeezes it. You hum in response, and his mouth is on your nipple now, grazing it with his teeth.

Between the biting, the sucking and the pinching, you're aching for more. But the sounds he's making —the moans when you sigh his name or tug at his hair —are almost as satisfying as an orgasm itself.

Though you certainly wouldn't refuse one or two of those.

Perhaps he can read your mind, or maybe he just knows what he wants —it doesn't really matter —because he gives your breasts one final squeeze and nip then trails his mouth down your stomach. The closer he gets to you, the more fidgety you become. You can feel his lips smile against your skin.

"It's okay," he promises, breath fanning over your thighs as he parts them slowly.

His fingers are trembling slightly, pressed into your thighs just enough to leave marks. Like he's scared that if he lets go, you're going to pull away from him. But he shakes those thoughts from his head, shifting down the bed until he's sitting on his knees on the floor. You're about to argue, to ask him what he's doing, but he wraps his arms around your thighs and yanks you down the bed until your legs are over his shoulders. You gasp, and his nose just barely presses above your wet core.

He groans, pressing his forehead into your thigh, fingers tightening around you. "God, you are...you're so wet."

"I told you," you sigh, running a hand through his hair, guiding him to look up at you through his lashes. "You're hot. This is hot. Everything you're doing is just...hot."

He melts into you, taking a moment to ground himself in your touch. "You have no idea how much you do for me," he admits, pressing his lips to the inside of your thigh softly. "But I'm...I'm going to try to show you."

"Oh, Bob, you don't —,"

But you cut yourself off with a gasp, fingers tightening in his hair as he buries his face in between your legs. Your hips move involuntarily, chasing his tongue as it swipes through your folds. He doesn't stop you, only presses his tongue flat against you before he sucks on your clit.

You suck in a breath, begging him to keep going. He nods as if he trying to respond, but he's groaning instead as he slips his tongue into you. Your thighs tighten around his head, hand guiding his head and mouth exactly where you need him to be. The hands holding your hips drift away, one disappearing entirely while the other glides just between your folds, one finger pressing into you slowly.

"Oh-oh," you sigh, involuntarily clenching around his one finger. "Oh, god, more —please —you're doing so good.."

He pulls his mouth away, just slightly, so he can see how you react as he slips a second finger inside you —curling up slightly. His eyes are glossy, face smeared in your juices, and you think this is the hottest thing you've seen in your entire life.

You cry out his name, back arching off the bed as you beg for him to go faster. He pulls out, just briefly, and you swear you hear him groan again. But you're too distracted by his fingers pressing up into you once again to notice any sounds that aren't the sounds of him finger-fucking you and him whining as he sucks on your clit.

You're so close —can feel it teetering on the edge when you manage to open your eyes just enough to watch him suck at your clit as he continues his rhythm. His other hand —the one that had disappeared —is in his lap and you understand his own whimpering now. While he's ruining you —burying his fingers so deep inside you, curling up and into that spongey spot that causes you to cry —he's jerking off at the whole experience.

And that tips you over the edge, pressing your heels into his shoulders as he furiously pumps his fingers in and out as you ride out your orgasm. You're crying out his name, begging him to stop because it's sensitive —fuck, your nerves are on fire —but he knows you don't actually want him to stop. It feels so good —the wave after wave of your orgasm washing over you before you hear him cry out himself, his body jerking against yours as he cums all over his hand.

You've collapsed on the bed, breathing heavy, and he's laying his forehead against your thigh. Both coming down from this, trying to catch your breaths.

When you've finally come to your senses —a solid five minutes later —you pull him up to lay beside you, pushing his hair out of his face. He's smiling at you lazily, hand laying against the base of your throat to feel your heartbeat.

"Have I told you recently how hot you are?" You ask, brushing your nose against his. You can smell yourself on his breath, and you're about to kiss him again when he says,

"I think I might start believing it soon."

---

Bob Taglist: @ilovemarvel12 @myrrh-dock

[motorsportbarbie13]

One New Voicemail

your relationship with lando through voicemails.

(no warnings, just pure fluff. i'm kind of obsessed with writing these. would anyone want to see different drivers??? 1.2k words.)

First Date  “Hey you. I know I just dropped you off and you’re probably not back up to your apartment yet but I just wanted to tell you that I had the best time tonight…”  Lando winces at how lame that sounds, dragging in a breath before letting it loose.  “I’ve never been axe throwing on a first date before but uh…I’m glad you still have all ten fingers.” He laughs softly, shaking his head.

“Anyway. I know I said it already, like…5 times but I had a really fun night. Like, best first date ever. So, I was hoping that maybe we could do it again. Soon? Yeah…soon.”  He pauses, the butterflies in his stomach taking flight at the thought of seeing you again. “I’m in town for another week before the next race. Maybe tomorrow? Too soon? I don’t know, I just can’t get you off my mind and I’ve just dropped you off.”  Shit. He was down bad, wasn’t he?  “Text me?”  Another pause.  “Okay. Bye.”  Click. 

First Kiss “Hi. Um. So, that just happened, didn’t it?”

His voice is breathless, like he just ran up several flights of stairs before hitting your contact in his phone.

“I’ve been wanting to do that ever since I saw you in that bookstore. I nearly chickened out that day, almost walked right past the shop window but…” 

Lando shakes his head, smile tugging at his mouth. 

“Fuck, I am so glad I didn’t. Because that was the best first kiss I’ve ever had. And then you gave me the best second kiss. And third…” 

The words hang in the air, silence stretching out as he grins stupidly out at the London traffic in front of him. 

“Okay. Anyway. I just wanted to make sure you knew how much I can’t wait to kiss you again. Bye.” 

Click.

When You Make It Official  “Hi baby. I uh…just needed to say goodnight to my girlfriend one more time.” 

Lando giggles. 

Giggles. 

“So…you’re my girlfriend now, huh?” You can almost hear the smile slide across his face in the way he sounds. “Jesus, I was so nervous. Felt like I was 15 years old again. I’m so glad you said yes. Never a doubt in my mind…” 

He snorts, rolling his eyes. 

You both know that’s a lie. 

“I wish I didn’t have to go to Spain so early tomorrow. Fucking media duties. Do you think maybe you could get Friday off? I want you by my side this weekend. I’m going to buy you a ticket as soon as I get back to my flat, okay? Okay. Bye.” 

Click. 

When He Wins “Fuck. I didn’t even check to see what time it was back home. I’m so sorry, I hope I didn’t wake you.” A pause. “Probably not because you didn’t answer. That’s good.” 

Lando sounds flustered. Like he can’t quite gather his thoughts into a coherent string. 

“I won!” 

Laughter. 

“I won and the first thing I thought when I saw that checkered flag was ’God, I wish she was here to see this.’ I hate being on opposite sides of the world from you. I haven’t heard your voice all fucking day. Is that pathetic? How much I love hearing your voice? You know what? I don’t care. Hearing you say my name is my favorite sound. Sue me.” 

Someone shouts Lando’s name off in the distance, just loud enough for you to hear. They tell him it’s time to celebrate and take a team photo. His response is muffled and then louder, directed back at your voicemail. 

“I wish you were here. I need you here for my next win, okay? Promise me? Okay, call me when you get up, I don’t care what time it is.” 

A pause. Almost like there’s something else he wants to say. Something heavier. 

“Okay. G’night.” 

Click. 

When He Misses You “Hi, baby.” He coos, voice tired. Sheets rustle in the background and he’s silent for a few moments. “I’m sorry I missed your call earlier. You’re probably out with the girls now, yeah? I hope you’re having a good time.” 

Silverware clinks in the background. The hiss of a can opening. 

“It’s been…fourteen days, six hours, and twenty-nine minutes since I kissed you and it’s really fucking annoying. I miss you so much. Triple headers suck. Can you come to Brazil next week? I’ll fly you out here. Please?” 

A sigh that borders on a groan. 

“I really fucking miss you.”

Deep breath. 

“Okay. I hope you’re having fun. Call me when you get in, no matter what time it is, okay?” 

Click. 

When He Realizes He Loves You “Hi.” 

It’s a breathless whisper. 

“I uhhhh…” 

Lando scrubs his hand over his face as he walks down the sidewalk. 

“I know it hasn’t been very long and fuck, I hope this doesn’t scare you off. I probably shouldn’t be doing this on voicemail. I was going to say it when I kissed you goodnight but I lost my nerve.” 

His feet whisper over the pavement, filling the silence. 

“IThinkImFallingInLoveWithYou.” 

The words are quick. Jumbled. And then he’s muttering something under his breath. 

“No. Wait. Fuck. Not think. Baby, I know I’m in love with you.” 

Silence. 

“I’m so head over heels in love with you I can’t even think straight.” 

His footfalls get louder, as if he’s running. 

“And I’m a fucking idiot for not saying it to your face. I’ll be at your door in thirty seconds…” 

Click. 

When He Gets Down On One Knee “I can’t believe you actually said yes.” 

Lando huffs a laugh. 

“I thought I blew it, when you didn’t say anything after I asked. I genuinely thought you were about to turn me down. Scariest ten seconds of my life. And then you were crying and yelling and hugging me…The poor cat was terrified.” 

The Ferrari’s engine purrs to life in the background. 

“I just ran out to get some champagne for us but I wanted to hear your voice. I can’t believe I get to marry you. Holy fuck, you’re going to be my wife.”

A beat.

“I’m going to be your husband.”  

He sounds overwhelmed. Like he can’t quite wrap his mind around the sentence. 

“I’m so glad I went into that bookstore that day…I love you so much. I can’t wait to call you Mrs. Norris.” 

Click.  

The Night Before You Marry Him “I don’t know how you’re asleep right now. I feel like I’m going to vibrate right out of my skin.” 

The sheets rustle softly in the background. 

“You looked so pretty tonight in that dress. Every time I looked at you, I thought my heart was going to explode. I can’t ever get enough of seeing you with my ring on your finger. The wedding band I put on you tomorrow is going to look so fucking good next to it.” 

Lando draws in a deep breath, settling deeper in the sheets. 

“It’s weird sleeping without you. These traditions are stupid.” 

You can almost hear the pout on his face. 

“What am I going to do without your ice cold feet to jolt me awake at 3 in the morning?” 

A laugh. 

“I still can’t believe I got you to agree to marry me. I’m the luckiest guy on this planet, you know that? I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.” 

A pause. 

“Can we have babies soon?” 

Another pause. Longer now. 

“I can’t wait for you to have my babies. Lets get to work on that tomorrow night.” 

He says it like it’s final. Like he’s been waiting to say that to you for as long as he’s known you. 

“Okay. Love you, soon-to-be wife. Bye.” 

Click. 

[avonsdrabbles]

The most significant lesson I ever received in Literature classes was that everything is actually about abortion.

My regular teacher was out for the day, so the “this guy works here but nobody quite knows what he’s supposed to do” substitute was in for her. His name was Mr. Moony. I suspect, knowing more now, that Mr. Moony was the special education coordinator for gifted and talented students. But that’s all besides the point.

The only thing that mattered about Mr. Moony for this story is that every student knew you never learned anything when he was in, because he was always batshit insane. He would completely disregard plans, throw them away, and tell us to do something different.

When he came in, we had just finished reading Waiting for Godot. We were well on our way to an AP Lit exam, tired and worried, and we had a practice essay coming up based on this play. And he said, “you’re all burnt the hell out, so I’m going to write an essay for you.” We all cheered because, hell yes, a lecture day. We didn’t have to do shit. We could all tune out and stop caring.

And then he started going.

We were enraptured. This man deconstructed the two act play into a masterpiece, quoting ancient literature on theology and God, as well as personal details about the author, to reveal to us all that, actually, Waiting for Godot was the author’s roundabout way to show the anguish behind the politics of the pro-life/anti-choice movements, and the author’s criticisms of abortion.

He went on for a half hour, writing faster than we could really keep up with. By the end of his rant, we were all nodding along. At the end, he slammed his hand on the board and shouted “ABORTION” to really make his point.

“So, do you all think that’s what this story is about?”

The majority of us nodded, myself included. And this man looked at us, scrunched his face like Kermit the Fucking Frog, and went, “no the fuck it’s not. I made all that up.”

There was a beat of everyone feeling like their time was wasted. Some students very frustrated because they were trying to take notes and just realized it all was fabricated. One or two who were angry about being woken up to him shouting abortion.

And then he looked at us. “How many of you only believe it’s about abortion because that’s what I just told you to think?”

Quite a few raised their hands.

“Then I did English good.”

The rest of the time of class was spent with him teaching us various styles of analysis, though sadly my amnesia has claimed most of this part from me. I remember my belief in English being entirely shaken at this point. But at the same time, I also got what he was saying, and it opened my eyes to new things.

There is no right answer in literary analysis. There’s just answers people want to hear, or answers that are compelling, or answers that aren’t those things. The answer that Waiting for Godot was about abortion was not something all of us wanted to hear, but he made the answer sound compelling — and so we were riveted.

My next essay I wrote for that class was about the setting of the play, and how the entirety of Waiting for Godot centers on the anxieties of losing the modern family — and even modern life as we know it — to technology, and via that idea, the climate crisis.

I got a 100%. My teacher highlighted my (thankfully anonymous to the class) essay, particularly because the first sentence was “compelling,” due to my absence of proper grammar rules; I’d started it off by just saying, “trees.”

That was the day I really knew I loved English — not just enjoyed reading and writing, but genuine love of playing with the language. And it’s this love that I try to instill into my students.

The biggest misconception in public schools is that literary analysis is about proving you can be right or wrong about a book you read

Literary analysis isn’t about the book

It’s not even about being right

It’s about performing an investigation and presenting your case to the jury

It doesn’t matter if your defendant killed that guy or not. If you can convince the jury he didn’t, you’ve won

And the incredible life skill of spinning bulletproof bullshit out your ass with a handful of facts and a prayer is soooooooo much more valuable than anyone’s ever gonna tell you

[captain-huggy-bear]

Congrats on 1000 queen!! 🥳 can I request “The kid(s) are out...” with jack 🩷

I hope this is okay? Went silly and sweet with it, but not feeling super confident with it! 1000 Followers Celly Finished Requests are currently closed while I work through current ones <3 Writing Masterlist

You know he's up to only the most delightful mischief when you spot Jack leaning against the doorframe to the living room, cheeky grin tugging at his lips, hair a mess, big t-shirt that the kids' got him last Father's Day hanging off him. The t-shirt Ellen had insisted you get 2 sizes too big because it would be comfy and daddy was always achy after a game. It didn't matter that she was getting older now, she was still a massive daddy's girl and Jack spoiled her rotten.

"The kids are out at Luke's..." Maybe it says a lot about your marriage after two kids and plenty of long roadies that you don't jump to sex, that your first thought isn't that you have the house to yourself to absolutely ravish and maul your husband...instead...

"Sundae station?" The way you perk up on the sofa, wide eyed and eager as you look over at him has Jack laughing before closing the distance, hands reaching to tug you up to standing. Maybe it says a lot that Jack's first thought isn't sex either, but exactly the same as yours.

"Sundae station." You practically squeal and suddenly Jack's looking at the girl he went on that first date with, silly and youthful and sweet. The girl that had spent the last few years acting so mature, so proper because she was a mother now and mum's couldn't have sundae stations without little grubby hands stealing all the ice-cream and then keeping you up all night because sugar. The girl that had turned into his wife, into a woman he loved, but God, sometimes he missed seeing you shed that weight, the mantle of motherhood for a second.

He's already got it laid out for you in the kitchen; bowls of different toppings, a million sauce options to choose from, squirty cream, cherries, even bananas in case you want a banana split.

There's something fulfilling for Jack in the way that he gets to serve you, pretending he's working in an ice-cream shop at each part of the station until you have a massive, perfectly crafted sundae with all the trimmings. It helps that you laugh at the silly valley accent he puts on and that he feels like he can shed the 'dad' skin for a minute. That he can just be the husband, your husband.

You both love being parents, but God, is it nice to just be Jack and Y/N. To be a couple. A duo again for a moment.

He doesn't even ask before the Notebook is put on, you don't need to gesture or ask for him to make room for you on the sofa, curling under his arm as you both eat ice-cream and watch the first movie you'd ever watched together. It feels intimate in that quiet sort of way that being known feels, when someone makes you feel special and important, seen.

"God, it's so nice to eat what we want and not have to share, right? When was the last time we didn't have to share our sundaes?" You don't even wipe at the cream around your mouth or the sauce on your cheek, Jack's fingers reaching out to wipe it clean like he often has to do for Carter.

"Mmm, maybe back in 2029 when you were pregnant for the first time? They're ice-cream thieves, babe...we've raised ice-cream thieves." He spoons the last scoop of his ice-cream into his mouth, leaning forward to put both your empty bowls on the coffee table. You move with him, refusing to not be tucked into his side, comfy and cosy.

"Not even just ice-cream, Carter stole my apple slices yesterday..." You complain, face planting into Jack's neck when he finally settles back down. You'd been really craving those apple slices too, crispy, fresh...perfectly cut...and then Carter had come in from hockey practice and immediately eaten them with a 'thank, mum!'.

"Why didn't you say? That's at least 2 minutes in the penalty box for theft of apple slices!" Jack's gasp is offended on your behalf, even as he jokes about it, fingers sliding into your hair and scratching at your scalp in a way that has you almost purring like a cat.

"I just love them so much, y'know? And he pulls that face of his, the one he got from you, all pouty and big eyed..." Carter might be 13 now, he might be a teenager with those ridiculous mood swings, but he was also your baby and the spit of Jack sometimes.

"You mean this one?" You pull back to see Jack pulling the exact face. Bottom lip pouty and full, big blue eyes wide and sweet, the sort of face you'd never been able to resist when he pulled it, made 10 times worse when your son decided to pull it too. Both boys had you wrapped around their fingers.

"Yeah, I hate it." You huff, hiding your smile into his neck again and Jack just laughs because he knows that's not true...just as much as he knows both of you would willingly share your ice-cream sundaes for the next 50 years so long as you had your two babies.

"You hate it because you love it so much, baby."

[prosypepper]

hi mootie, here’s a good morning forehead smooch 💋

i’m looking for a f!plus size x toji fic 🥀 my obsession with his grimy ass has came back ten fold.

maybe something along the lines of being his ‘bestie’ (let’s be so fr this man has NO friends.) and he invites u to the beach so he doesn’t have to go with just shiu or sum like that…

sees u in a revealing swimsuit n goes bonkers. OR MAYBE kinda like a comfort bc reader doesn’t feel good in the suit…

even if u choose not to write this it still felt great to get out of my system, ily pls don’t go bald mwah

BABE MY LOVE I WAS SO HAPPY TO SEE U BACK ON THE DASH!!! I MISSED YOUUUUUUU!!!!! also i have some thoughts………ur so smart.

a/n: smut, comfort of insecurities, plus size fem reader, this is lowkey SO BAD and im so sorry but i wanted to do this for u 🫶🫶🫶 18+ mdni!

“where have you been hiding that?”

toji whistles when you walk out of the bathroom you’d been forced to share for the weekend, sleazy grin on his face from where he’s sitting on the bed.

“you’ve seen me naked like four times,” you retort, climbing onto the bed beside him to rummage through your bag of clothes, “also i’m changing. i look disgusting.”

toji’s taken aback by your statement, utterly dumbfounded at a pretty thing like you saying such harsh things about herself. he’d never denied how attractive he thought you were, always flirting and riling you up when he had the chance. hell, you guys had even fucked before, albeit on all sorts of drugs, but now?

toji thought you looked better sober. you’re the first girl he’d ever thought that about, too, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

“disgusting?” he repeats after you, word tweaking into a question.

“yes, disgusting. gross, ugly, nasty, whatever. i hate this stupid bikini but i didn’t have the cash to buy a new one,” you complain, still angrily shoving through your bag and getting angrier when you didn’t find anything to cover up with.

“babydoll,” toji coos, smoothing a hand over your back, “what makes you say that?” toji’s voice is dropped lower, concerned, almost. it was so unlike you to say such a thing. toji didn’t care for many people, but you’d been there for him in the most trying of times, there was no way he’d let you think that about yourself.

especially when he was about to lose it at just the sight of you.

“i just..” you sigh, slumping your shoulders, “i don’t know. i just feel so gross now, like nothing looks good on me and i just feel so ugly. like i’m surprised you’re not embarrassed to be seen with me—.”

“woah, slow down,” he interrupts, taking a breath to collect his thoughts, keeping the soothing hand on your back. “you’re.. damn gorgeous, y’know that. i tell you all the time.”

“yeah but that’s different, we’re friends, plus we only had sex when you were drunk or whatever so obviously you have to be in an altered state to wanna—,”

“stop.”

you’re shut up immediately, looking at toji confused, because why did he care so much? the both of you hold eye contact before toji’s eyes flicker down, causing you to do the same—down his chest and torso, right to the tent in his swim trunks.

“toji!” you laugh, shoving his chest—and toji just grins. cocky.

“that’s all you, babe.”

“you’re so gross.”

“show me how gross you think i am.”

“toji!”

“yeah, baby, scream my name just like that.”

there’s barely room for you to get any words out with the way toji’s stretching you out on the counter of the bathroom. you’re teetering on the edge of the marble, the only thing holding you up are toji’s arms and the desperate grip you have around his neck.

fifteen minutes ago you were complaining about your looks.. and now, he won’t even give you the chance to complain. your bikini bottoms are pulled to the side and the top is resting below your tits, showing all of you off to him.

you’re beautiful like this.

“so fuckin’ pretty,” toji mumbles, looking down at your blissed expression—eyes glued shut, eyebrows knitted together, mouth dropping open and closing with miniscule whimpers. “hold on tight, doll.”

without much warning, toji picks you up with one motion, holding your legs around him with strong hands. a slew of words come out as you try to tell him he’s going to drop you—but you never hit the floor. he’s still for a moment as he slides himself allll the way in, practically stabbing your cervix, you’re sure.

“fucking—pleaseplease, wait,” you babble, not used to the stretch of toji’s cock inside of you, “too much—it’s, mmph—toji.”

“too much, gorgeous?” he chuckles, cute name slipping off his tongue naturally, laughing more when you nod quickly. yet he does anything but pause, bouncing you up and down on his length like you’re weightless.

“sorry, pretty. can’t help myself.”

[k4rinaviiz]

ʚɞ sukuna x fem!reader. grumpy x sunshine. reader described as girly. based off this tiktok.

You and Sukuna have been dating for a couple of months now. None of your or his friends expected it. I mean, you were like sunshine, and he… well, let's just say not sunshine.

Nonetheless, no matter how much people talked, you were still one of the healthiest couples on campus. You handled the pleasantries and made sure Sukuna was not ripping people's heads off, while he made sure people were not trying to use your kindness against you.

Here you were, sitting in your guy's favorite fast-food place after classes had finished. You too had grown to enjoy the same food with your spent time together. This time was no different, you had both ordered burgers and drinks. He paid of course. You sat near the window with the hot summer sun leaking in the gold liquid.

You didn't miss the side glances that workers gave to the two of you. Just like how your personalities were opposites, so were your styles. He was tall, and muscular, and had tattoos. You on the other hand wore light colors, frilly clothes, and bows. You didn't pay any mind though, instead sending a small smile to the worker who brought out your food.

“When did they have pickles on them…?” he muttered in his usually grumpy voice. You looked up from your own burger, your eyebrows rising in confusion at his words. Leaning forward in your chair to get a look at his meal, and low and behold there was the one food he despised most.

He looked towards you with a scowl shadowing his face “You could ask them to remake it…” you suggest but there was clear hesitation in your voice. You both knew you hated any sort of confrontation, even though he usually did it anyway. This time he just let out a low grumble, crossing his arms “They’ll just end up messing it up again.”

You didn't say anything, instead soundlessly pushing your burger. The right order, towards him. “here we can trade.” you shrug, your voice showing him how happy you were to do it. He stared at you for a moment, he knew no matter how long you two were together he would never get used to your, small selfless acts. “You would really do that for me..?” his voice filled with skepticism.

“yeah, of course.” you nodded quickly. That sweet, slightly lopsided smile he loved so much was spread across your face.

You both started to eat in comfortable silence, you really didn't mind the messed-up order or even lack of conversation. What did surprise you was when he quickly blurted something out "If anyone ever hurts you, you come to me.”

honestly sukuna and sylus are like the same person to me so I just kinda had to write this… even if I lowk should be doing work.

Anyway tell me if you like it, all feedback is appreciated.

@k4rinaviiz please do not repost, translate or copy my work. all my work is originally mine.

[the-attaarmadhaj]

The thing about Mormon missionaries is that, yeah. Most of them are extremely sheltered kids trying to do their best to be good how they were taught. I rarely see much of them, I think I walked past a few in my hometown a few years back? It was easy to tell they were christian missionaries of some sort because they were American (you could tell from the accents), dressed smartly, and carrying bibles. But all I really remember of it was how excitedly they were chatting about being in a different country. I don't think they go to where I'm from often, it's kinda middle of nowhere and it's just half an hour either north or south by car, or 20 minutes by train, to a couple major cities, so most of them likely end up in one of those and branching to our town only occasionally if they're trying to be extra diligent and proactive in what they were told to do. So, looking back, they were just kids, a couple years younger than i am now, excited to be abroad, trying their absolute best to be good. Just makes me angry at the Mormon church tbh. They should have had the opportunity to explore our town without all the rules they gotta follow, have the opportunity to actually fully indulge in their excitement.

I couldn't offer anything at the time, I was maybe 14 or 15, and they were heading the opposite direction to us, away from the town centre (where the train station is) and towards where more of the houses are (and also, funnily enough, right past where we got a jehovas witnesses centre and a quaker hall right next door to each other which is something I chuckle about whenever I think about it, because thats about as different from each other as two branches of christianity can get, and theyre next door neighbours). But I like to hope that, even with all those rules they gotta follow, they were able to gain something positive from their visit to our town, even if it was only a taste of what a medium sized town in the UK can be like.

But yeah, be nice to them. They're basically kids.

[sidemari]

• Bun in the oven •

Some texts about you telling them that you’re pregnant and some headcanons about how they’re during the pregnancy. 

Characters included: Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, Keegan P. Russ, Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick, König, Nikto and Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem!Reader 

TW: Mild angst, mentions of abortion and insecurities, implied smut. But everything works out in the end. 

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

You call him from the corner of the room, that nervous smile on your face. Soap knows right away that something big is coming — he feels it, like he senses danger on the field… But this time, it’s something different. Something good.

“Johnny… Do you remember the night you came back home after being away for so long due to that mission?” You tested the waters by avoiding telling the truth right away.

“Yeah… How could I forget that night?” He smiled warmly, his mind flashing with the images of that day. “What about it, hon?” 

“Well… You know we got carried away and…”

“And…?”

“We’re having a baby.” You finally share your secret. 

He blinks. Once. Twice. His usual playful smile disappears for a second, replaced by a stunned look, as if he’s trying to decode what he’s just heard.

“Are… are you serious?” You nod, and he… explodes with joy. He literally lifts you into the air with a surprised cry, almost laughing and crying at the same time.

“Oh my God! We’re going to be parents?! Aye, fuck, baby, is this really real?”

He kisses your forehead, then your belly, even though it hasn’t even changed yet. He murmurs a bunch of sweet things in that warm accent — promises, plans, dreams. And then he whispers very softly, just for you to hear:

“I swear I will be the best father in the world… to our baby. And the best man to you. Always.”

When the morning sickness starts, he becomes your personal bodyguard against any suspicious smells: “What the hell is that in the air?! It smells like poison, honey. Close that window!”

He researches everything about pregnancy and becomes the most emotional “expert” on the planet. He sends you messages like: “Did you know that the baby already has little fingers today? LITTLE FINGERS, BABY!”

He talks to your belly every day, telling them about his missions, his friends on the team, and asking if the baby prefers soccer or rugby: “If you kick now, it’ll be rugby, okay?”

He starts to become obsessed with photos. He takes a thousand selfies with you and your belly, even while you’re sleeping. 

He refuses to let you carry anything, literally: “Not even the bag. Not even the remote. Let me carry it, honey.”

He massages your feet every night, and even develops a ‘military relaxation technique’ just so you can sleep better.

He has a hospital bag ready with 30 unnecessary things, like three types of chocolate, a teddy bear, and a mini speaker to play Scottish music for the baby.

He’s always reminding you how beautiful you are, even when you feel uncomfortable and insecure. “No matter how big your belly is, you’ve always been the love of my life, and now you’re carrying our little miracle. And no, I don’t give a single fuck about those stretchmarks. You’re nurturing a life inside your womb and your body is adapting itself because of it. I still think you look damn hot and I’m forever thankful that those pregnancy hormones shifted you into a little insatiable thing.”

He gets touchy-feely, sometimes hugging you in the middle of the night just to say thank you. 

He makes up nicknames for the baby while he’s still in the womb, like “Little Soap”. 

He gets really emotional during the first ultrasound. He holds your hand tightly and tries not to cry… but fails miserably.

He makes special playlists with soft Scottish music, movie soundtracks and even records himself talking so the baby can hear at night.

He buys miniature army clothes, but also absurdly cute ones, like animal costumes, because “he needs to have style in the nursery”.

One day he shows up with a crib set up in the middle of the living room just because “he wanted to see if it would look nice in natural light”.

He learns to cook your favorite foods (even if it turns out to be a disaster) just so you can eat what you want safely.

He keeps notes with the dates of the first times: first kick, first time their heartbeat was heard, first photo of your belly. He’s creating a secret “dossier” of love.

He swears he’s going to be the most present father in the world. No matter how much life changes, he will always be there for you two. 

It was a quiet night at home. The sky was clear, with a million stars shining through the open window. You were sitting on the couch, with a cup of hot tea in your hands, and Soap was lying next to you, with his head on your lap, apparently tired from the intense mission of the day. The conversation was calm, but you knew it was time to tell him the news. He was so focused on caressing your stomach as you played with his hair, that he didn't notice how nervous you were.

"Did you know you're going to be the best dad in the world?" You said softly, feeling your heart race. Soap looked at you with a crooked smile, his eyes shining with evident affection.

"I have no doubt about that, love. But what do you mean, best dad? If I'm not, who will be, huh?" You laughed, but you were feeling overflowing with happiness. Suddenly, the moment was there, and it was as if time had slowed down just so he could hear your words.

"Well… I can't say who's going to be the best father, but you're the best for me, and… Our daughter is going to be very lucky." There was a pause. Soap stood up quickly, looking at you, confused, as if he hadn't quite understood. His eyes were curious, but his smile stubbornly wouldn't leave his face. 

"Wait… What?" He asked, his eyes shining even brighter. You laughed, feeling the heat rise to your face. 

"I… we're expecting a little girl." Soap's eyes widened for a moment and he was silent, processing the information. When it finally sunk in, he leaned forward, with a dazzling smile.

"A little girl?" he repeated, his voice full of disbelief. 

"Yes, a little girl," You said, your heart almost jumping out of your chest. "You're going to be the father of a little girl." And then, he simply laughed. A genuine, happy laugh, one of those laughs that seemed so honest that you felt your soul warm. He stood up from the couch, holding your hands tightly before he jumped close to you, not caring about the teacup that almost fell to the floor.

"Are you sure about this? A real little girl?" He asked again, his eyes shining with happiness.

You laughed then, finally, the feeling of nervousness disappearing. He was more excited than ever, and his happiness was contagious.

"I'm sure!" You answered, laughing along with him, the two of you hugging each other tightly. "We're going to have a daughter, Soap." He ran his hand over your belly, still not fully believing it, but with a sparkle in his eyes that didn't fade. 

"I promise that I'm going to be the best dad in the world. It's going to be a pleasure to watch our little girl grow up." You leaned back against the couch, feeling your heart beat faster. 

"I know you will." And as he continued to rub your belly, smiling like a fool and in that moment, you were more certain than ever that he was the kind of father who would do anything for her. 

Keegan P. Russ 

You hadn’t planned to tell him like this. You wanted something elaborate, symbolic… maybe a candlelit dinner, a note written in your nervous handwriting. But there, sitting on the couch, with his hand resting on your thigh and his eyes intently watching a movie, you felt the right moment — a comfortable, intimate silence, just the two of you.

“Keegan…” You began, your voice low, almost as if you were keeping a precious secret between your lips. He turned his face to you right away. He always did that — when you spoke, he listened. With his eyes, with his whole body. It was a habit of his to offer you his total presence.

“Is something wrong?” He asked immediately, already with that protective look that always came when you hesitated.

“No… it’s just...” You took his hand and brought it to your belly, as if that would be enough. Maybe it was. For a moment, he didn’t understand. He looked back at your face, at your eyes filled with unshed tears, at his hand under your still flat stomach, but which held a secret growing in silence.

“Are you...?” He didn’t finish the question, but his eyes said it all. You nodded, with a shy, uncertain, but hopeful smile. The air between you changed. He didn’t say anything for a second too long — but you saw it. His shoulders relaxed as if he had been waiting for this news without knowing. His eyes watered, and his mouth opened slowly, a whisper coming out between his lips:

“Are we becoming a family...?” The way he hugged you that night was different. It was a protective, reverent grip. As if you were made of porcelain. As if the most important miracle of his life was inside you — and it was.

The focused, meticulous soldier appeared in a new form: in nutrition spreadsheets, reminders on his phone with alarms for his snacks, vitamins, and appointments. He went with you to all of them—even when he was exhausted, even when he had just returned from a mission the day before. He sat next to you, held your hand, and listened intently to every word the obstetrician said.

Keegan was the type of person who didn’t say much, but showed it all through his actions. He learned to cook healthy meals even though he didn’t know how to cut a tomato properly at first. He would run his hands over his belly before bed every night, with a caress that felt like a silent prayer.

And when the symptoms got tough — the nausea, the aches, the bloating — Keegan didn’t run away. He showed up with tea (and if you refused to drink them, he’d force you to, saying it was for the good of the baby you were nurturing), warm blankets, and concerned eyes. He sat on the floor beside your bed when you didn’t want to talk. He was just there and it was enough. 

Sometimes, during the night, he would wake up just to check if you were still sleeping well. He would run his hand over your forehead, carefully adjusting your position, as if he could protect you even from nightmares.

Keegan, during your pregnancy, was as firm as steel and as gentle as a cozy blanket. He became your safe haven, your silent and constant guardian. He slept with his hand on your belly, talked to the baby when he thought you couldn’t hear, promised he would be there, always, that he would take care of you, that no one would ever hurt you both. 

You found him in the kitchen, cooking your latest craving: berry pie.

“Baby,” You called, leaning against the door frame. He looked up immediately, a small smile forming when he saw you there.

You walked over to him slowly, your heart racing, and pulled out the small pair of blue booties you had bought that morning.

“For when he gets here.” You said, placing the booties in his hands. A cheesy way to reveal the gender of your baby, yes, but those booties were just too cute for you to ignore. 

Keegan frowned, confused at first — until understanding dawned on him. He blinked a few times, in disbelief.

“A little boy?” He asked, almost in a choked whisper.

You nodded with an excited smile. He laughed softly, shaking his head as if he was still processing it. Then he pulled you slowly closer, resting his forehead against yours before spinning you around slowly and carefully to not make you nauseous.

“My little boy… Our little boy!” He murmured, his voice cracking with joy.

When the time arrives, Keegan is incredibly calm on the outside, but inside he is a whirlwind of emotions. He has never been so scared and so happy at the same time. He held your hand through every contraction, whispering “You can do it,” “I’m here,” “It’s going to be okay” like a mantra — as if his voice could protect you from the pain. When he heard the baby cry for the first time, his eyes filled with tears instantly. He tried to hide it, but the emotion overflowed in his eyes and in the way he smiled at you and when he held his son for the first time. He was completely mesmerized: his big fingers touched the little body with the greatest delicacy in the world, as if he was afraid of hurting his own son. 

Keegan refuses to sleep while you rest. He sits in an armchair with the baby on his lap, just observing every little detail of the newborn. When the medical team came back and found him with the baby sleeping on his chest, and you sleeping in bed, they said it looked like a scene from a movie. 

He talks to the baby even though he knows he doesn't understand: "You have your mother's eyes... And you'll be strong like her too." 

Takes pictures of the tiny feet, of the baby grabbing your finger, of you breastfeeding him, bathing him and sleeping with him and keeps them all in a folder that only he has access to.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick

You realized something was wrong when you woke up with an upset stomach for two days in a row — and without having eaten anything heavy. The smell of the breakfast you loved started to make you nauseous… and that was the first warning sign. Kyle even jokingly commented: “Are you abandoning me in our sacred coffee ritual?” — and you forced a smile, pretending you weren’t worried. A few days later, you realized your period was late. A week. Then ten days. And then fifteen. And then, sweet fear hit deep in your chest.

You bought the test by yourself, on a quick trip to the pharmacy, and hid it in your purse as if it were a state secret. On a cold, slow morning, you took the test while Kyle was still sleeping. The silence in the bathroom was almost deafening as you waited the five minutes that the package indicated. Two lines. Two lines that changed everything. You stood still for long minutes, in the same position, holding the test with shaking hands and teary eyes. You didn't know whether to laugh or cry. You did both. The first thing you thought was: "How am I going to tell him?" — and right after: "Will he want this with me?" 

You tried to plan a cute way to tell him. A special dinner, a little box with the test and a note. But anxiety got the best of you. You told him in a simple way, on a normal afternoon, when it was just the two of you, sitting together. He noticed something different about you, and when you shared the secret you were carrying alone, time seemed to stop.

He was sitting on the couch, his eyes softly focused on you as you walked slowly toward him, your hands clasped in front of you, as if trying to contain your racing heart. He could tell right away — you were nervous.

“Are you okay, love?” He asked, his voice low, full of affection.

You nodded, but your throat was dry. You took a deep breath, then walked over and sat down next to him. His hand came naturally to yours, his warm, firm fingers wrapping around yours as if to say ‘I’m here, talk to me.’

“Kyle…” Your gaze met his, and there was so much tenderness there it almost hurt. “I’m pregnant.” For a moment, the world seemed suspended. His smile froze mid-smile, his eyes wide with surprise. You saw the emotion building there — first confusion, then a wet gleam in his eyes, as if he’d just heard something sacred.

“Are you… pregnant?” He repeated in a whisper, as if he was afraid to break the moment.

You nodded, with a small smile. His answer came in the form of a soft, almost breathless laugh, before he pulled you into a hug full of warmth and reverence. He held you as if you were made of glass, but at the same time with such intensity that your heart seemed to fit into his.

“We’re going to have a baby… Fuck’s sake!, that’s so amazing...” He whispered against your neck, as if he still couldn’t believe it. 

“Kyle… No swearing around the baby.”

“Copy that.” He smiled. “I'll be here. Every step, every beat of this little heart… I want to live it all with you.” After that, he placed his hand lovingly on your lower belly, as if he could already feel the new life you had started together. And in that moment, between soft smiles and slow kisses, the whole world seemed to fit between his arms.

He became obsessed with learning everything: he read medical articles, downloaded three different pregnancy apps, and asked the internet if certain strange food cravings were normal. 

He created a ritual: every night, he would lie with his head on her belly and whisper stories, just to “familiarize the baby with his father’s voice.” He would always say proudly: “Our baby will be born hearing the most beautiful accent in the world, honey.” 

He was so protective, but in a sweet way —  accompanying you to every appointment, carrying healthy snacks in his bag, and talking to doctors like you were a secret agent on a mission. 

When your belly started to grow, he bought funny “Loading… Baby 50%” T-shirts and forced you to wear them just to see your grumpy little face. No need to tell him they look awful, he’s already taking pictures of you. 

One day, he found you crying watching a random video of a stray dog being adopted and he just sat down with you, hugging you tightly, and getting emotional too, without even knowing why. 

He insisted on putting the crib together with his own hands. He made several mistakes, got his fingers stuck, and cursed the manual — but in the end, the crib was perfect.

When the contractions started, he went into military mode in 0.1 seconds. He grabbed the hospital bag, checked the checklist, warned everyone and took you to the hospital as if he was on a mission.

During the birth, he held your hand the whole time, letting you crush his fingers without complaining as he kept murmuring something along the lines of “Breathe with me. I’m with you.”

When the baby was born and cried for the first time, he cried too — the kind of silent, emotional cry that comes from deep in the chest.

He was paralyzed for a few seconds when he saw the baby in his arms, with teary eyes, whispering: “We did it. Look… we did it.”

You waited to find out the baby’s sex until the birth. It was a huge shock when the obstetrician said that a little boy had been born: “Hell yeah!”, he celebrated. “My little boy,” he murmured, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Our son...”

König

He finally returned from that mission that seemed to have no end. 

You call him by name with that soft voice that makes him feel weak to his knees. He notices something in your tone. The blue eyes fixed on yours with attention… and a hint of anxiety. “Was ist passiert, mein Schatz?” (“What happened, my love?”)

You take a deep breath, smiling with a nervousness that he immediately picks up on — and you finally say three words that change everything: 

“I am pregnant.” For a moment, he freezes. Not with rejection. Not with anger. But as if the world had gone silent. His eyes widen slightly, he takes a step back as if he’s been shocked, only to then approach you again with visible hesitation in his hands. The mask covers half of his reaction, but his eyes say it all. Pure vulnerability. The doubt of whether he deserves this. The desire to believe he still deserves to be happy. 

“Is it… mine?” He asks, his voice lower than ever.

“Of course it is, König!” 

When you say that — of course he knew it was his — König lets out a shaky sigh and puts his hands on his head, walking a few steps as if he doesn’t know what to do with his own body. Then he stops and he comes back to you. He kneels and he hugs your still-flat belly, pressing it against his face with an almost religious reverence.

“Mein Gott (My god)… you gave me a new life.” He murmurs, his voice hoarse and muffled.

Then he looks down at you, with teary eyes — the intimidating giant now looking like a lost, happy boy — and says something you would never forget:

“I never thought I would have something so precious. I will take care of you. The both of you. Even if the world falls apart… you will be safe.” 

In the first few months, König is on constant alert. Every moment of nausea, every different expression on your face, makes him stop everything to check if you are okay. 

He obsessively researches pregnancy in silence, on his cell phone, reading scientific articles, forums, and even mothers' groups — all in secret, with his eyes fixed on the screen as if he were studying military tactics. 

He tries to cook for you (with… variable results), just because he read that certain foods help with morning sickness. 

When your belly starts to grow, König starts talking to you when he thinks you are sleeping. He lies down next to you, his head resting gently on your belly, murmuring in German with a sweetness that seems unthinkable for such a huge man. "Dein Vater liebt dich sehr, mein kleines Wunder..." ("Your father loves you very much, my little miracle...") 

He starts to accompany you to every medical appointment as if they were a mission, paying attention to every comment from the doctors and nurses as if his life depended on it. 

When your belly is already heavy and your steps are slower, König starts carrying you to any place that involves stairs. Literally. He doesn't even ask. He just picks you up with the greatest care in the world, as if you were made of glass. 

When you start having false contractions, he goes into a state of absolute focus—the hospital bag has been packed for weeks, the routes have been planned, the emergency numbers are posted on the fridge. But despite this, he is always kind, always calm with you, even though he is seething with nerves inside.

He has internal crises of insecurity, but he never burdens you with them. He writes everything down in a hidden notebook, as a way of letting off steam. 

You find him on the balcony, the sky tinged with gold by the sunset. König’s back is turned, still, silent, as he usually does when he’s thinking too much. His large hands are resting on the railing, his broad body almost blocking the light. He turns when he hears your footsteps, and his soft gaze immediately lands on your belly with an almost reverent affection.

You smile, and he responds with that shy little smile at the corner of his mouth, his eyes still seeming to search for more signs that you’re okay.

“What did the doctor say?” He asks in a low voice, waiting for each word as if they were sacred.

You walk towards him, slowly, feeling your heart beat faster — not from nervousness, but from excitement. Then you take one of his hands and guide it to your belly.

“She’s fine,” You begin, looking into his eyes. “And yes... I said she.”

König’s eyes blink, as if it took him a second to process.

“She...?” He whispers, almost in disbelief. You nod, smiling even wider.

“We’re having a little girl.” His breath catches for a moment. His blue eyes — usually so restrained, so trained not to show too much — shine with immediate moisture. He kneels, letting his forehead touch yours while his hands wrap around your belly with a delicacy that doesn’t match its size.

You run your fingers through his hair, feeling him snuggle closer, his arms around your waist as if he wanted to protect the two of you from the entire world.

“She’s already so loved, König. By me… and by you.”

“I… I don’t know if I’m ready. But I’ll give everything. Everything. For both of you.”

“You’re already everything she needs. And everything I need too.” 

Nikto

The truth is that you found out you were carrying his child only in the third month of pregnancy. The missions, your dangerous job, the obligations, plans and goals, your own complex relationship with Nikto… all of this was too much for you to handle. The days became weeks and the weeks became months as you just ignored the symptoms, thinking that the nausea and exhaustion would pass. But they remained very present, and your suspicion only increased.

You took a pregnancy test, which came back positive. And to be sure, you also took a blood test some days after and then, an ultrasound, which finally revealed the baby's gender: a little boy was coming into the world. You did all this without saying a word to Nikto, fearing that he would hate the news. You weren't stupid, you knew he would soon realize something was out of place. Your body was changing, your symptoms were still present, and you even avoided exposing yourself to any kind of risk, as much as possible, unlike before.

He suspected the possible reason why this was happening, but he never forced you to admit anything. Not until you were ready.

When you told him the news, at first he reacted with silence and a hard look, trying to process the information. He’s not the type to show emotion easily, so you thought he was angry or indifferent… But inside, he would be conflicted. Part of him would feel vulnerable — the idea of ​​having created a new life would hit him harder than he expected. Another part would be on edge, worried for your safety and that of the baby, since his world is too violent for something so innocent.

But he wouldn’t shy away from responsibility. He just wouldn’t know how to show he cares in the traditional way. You’d see him more protective, more present, but also more silent. His love would be shown in actions, not words.

The base was silent that night—just the hum of the generators and the occasional sound of boots echoing in the hallway. He was sitting at the table, cleaning his weapon with the meticulous precision of always, his mask pushed up to his forehead, revealing those hard eyes… but that always softened when they landed on you. You walked in slowly, your fingers intertwined in front of you, your heart beating fast.

He noticed it instantly. He dropped the metal piece on the table and watched you silently. Not like a soldier, but like a man. Your man.

“Are you hurt?” He asked, standing up immediately, his tone low but attentive.

You shook your head, taking a deep breath before speaking.

“It’s not that. But… I need to tell you something. And it’s important.”

His eyes narrowed. He crossed his arms, his body firm as steel, but his gaze… almost nervous.

“I’m pregnant, Nikto.”

The silence that followed was as thick as the darkness outside. He didn’t answer. He just stood there, motionless, as if time had frozen. What did you expect? A scream? A sigh? A “how did that happen?”?

None of that came.

He walked towards you, slowly, as if he were stepping on unknown land. He stopped so close that you could feel the heat of his body. His gloved hand rose to your face — it hesitated in the air for a second — and then landed with a delicacy that no one would ever imagine that man was capable of.

“My son?” He murmured, his voice so low that it seemed like a secret between you and the universe.

Son… And he even had guessed the baby gender right.

You nodded, tears in your eyes, but smiling.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, there was something there. It wasn’t fear. Or anger. It was… instinct. A raw kind of love — unconditional, protective.

"How do you…" You hugged him, and that took him by surprise. It took Nikto a few seconds to hug you back, but when he did, he stroked your hair with affection. "How do you know it's a boy?"

"Is it?"

"I mean… yeah."

"Perhaps it was just my intuition." He kissed the top of your head, wanting to protect you from the world.

“You will not leave my sight.” His voice had returned to its firm tone. “I will take care of you both. From now on.” And then, for the first time since you met him, Nikto knelt down, making himself vulnerable before you. Lifting your shirt, he pressed his lips to your slightly swollen belly, so gently that it barely seemed real. But it was. It was his promise. No pretty words. Just presence. Just surrender.

Nikto was already a controlling person by nature, but from the moment he found out about your pregnancy, he became a constant shadow by your side. He checks safe routes before you go out, monitors the environment where you sleep, and leaves discreet trackers on everything you wear “just in case.” He doesn’t say, “I’m afraid something will happen,” he just acts—as if he could take on the whole world for you and the baby.

He’s not the type to say, “You look so beautiful carrying my son” but out of nowhere you find a soft blanket on the couch, hot tea on the table, or maternity clothes in your size neatly folded on the bed. When you ask him if that was his doing, he just answers curtly, “Maybe.” But if you insist, he might say, “I like to see you comfortable.” (And he looks down, because that was the most vulnerability he could show that day.)

If you’re lying down and you let out a whimper of pain or discomfort, within seconds he’ll be there, kneeling beside the bed, pressing his hands firmly against your back. He never comments anything, he just keeps going until he feels you’ve relaxed. When you say a weak “thank you” he’ll give you a quick nod and maybe — just maybe — press a kiss against your forehead before leaving the room.

At night, when you are dozing on the couch or in bed, he will slowly come over and, if he is comfortable doing so, he will rub your belly while speaking to the baby in Russian. They are short, almost military phrases, but sweet in his own way: "Your mother is stronger than anyone. You will get this from her." Or even: "You will not know war. I swear."

Even with all his confidence, he sometimes stays silent for long periods, staring at you from afar. When you ask him, he ends up saying something like: “I don’t know if I’m cut out for this. I only know how to fight.” It’s at this moment that you see his most human side. He’s not afraid of war, but he is afraid of failing you. And when you hold his hand and tell him he’s already doing more than enough, he doesn’t respond. He just squeezes your hand tightly — and doesn’t let go.

Simon “Ghost” Riley 

Hot and intense nights became common when the pressure of the world became great enough to suffocate you both.

You sought refuge in sex, night after night indulging your most primitive and sinful desires as a relatively effective, but twisted, way of enduring the horrendous reality of serving the country.

Even though you knew that being careful was relatively far from being part of your routine, you felt the world fall apart when the first symptoms began.

Nausea, fatigue and insecurity had become part of your essence and the fear of the future permeated your soul.

You tried to hide your pregnancy for as long as possible, not wanting to tell Simon, much less your team members.

Bringing an innocent life into the hell you lived was a senseless act. Then why did you feel so much love for someone who hadn't even been born yet?

You were almost four months pregnant when, during a mission, you fainted for no apparent reason. You weren't taking care of yourself enough — eating little, sleeping little and keeping so many secrets to yourself... It came as no surprise to anyone when your body couldn't handle all of that.

"Stay with me... Hey! She needs medical help!" Ghost shouted, looking around desperately, protecting your body as if you were the most fragile thing in the world at that moment.

Your consciousness slowly returned, and you realized that you were being carried by him to a safer place.

"I'm sorry." You stammered, feeling guilty for having interrupted the gathering of such important information.

"Don't apologize. I've never seen you so pale and weak like this, not even on worse missions." You were finally in a calmer place, still alone with him, and before other people entered the room to check on you, you decided it was time to tell him the truth.

"Simon, I..." You hesitated, wondering for a moment if being honest with him was really what you wanted.

"You...?" He encouraged you, squeezing your thigh affectionately, as usual.

"I... I'm pregnant." His eyes widened, and his grip on your thigh tightened, almost hurting you.

"What...?" He mumbled to himself, slowly fitting the pieces of the puzzle together and everything made sense — your extreme sensitivity to the tastes and smells that you usually liked, your endless naps, your hurried and unannounced trips to the bathroom, your lack of complaints about cramps, almost as if you hadn't had your period that month... It all made sense, and his head almost exploded.

"How did I not notice?" He whispered, pulling you close, hugging you tightly as if he wanted to protect you from all the evil in the world. "How far along are you?"

"Almost four months." You mumbled against his chest as he stroked your hair lovingly. "I think it was on your birthday..." 

That night... That fateful night.

"How are you feeling about this?"

"I... I don't know what to think..." Your hands involuntarily went down your body, caressing the slightly swollen belly due to the life that was developing there. "But I love them so much already..."

He smiled against your hair, hugging you tighter, a genuine happiness slowly forming inside his heart.

"I'm scared, Si." You admitted. "I'm scared of bringing them into this world only to suffer and see horrible things like the two of us."

"Hey, don't say that. Even in hell I found you. I found someone worth fighting for and waking up to everyday. Life isn't all bad, you taught me that yourself." You didn't answer, but he understood what you meant.

"Regardless of your decision — whether you’re keeping them or not — I will support you and stay by your side. Until my last breath." And he kissed the top of your head.

You couldn't muster the courage to abort that life. They were the fruit of the love between you and Simon and they were the best thing you had.

So you decided to keep it, to face the consequences of your acts, to carry the responsibility of bringing a life into this world. 

Months passed without you wanting to know the baby's sex, until Simon convinced you to investigate it.

"Guess." You murmured against his lips, your hands cupping his cheeks.

"Hmm, I have a feeling it's a girl." He secretly longed for one. You guided his hand so he could feel the baby moving, kicking you weakly every now and then.

"It's a girl! We're having a little girl, Si!" His heart fluttered with joy.

"Bloody hell, love... Fuck, I love her so much already. I can't wait to finally meet her."

He has a habit of murmuring sweet nothings your swollen stomach as his fingertips caresses the skin of your belly.

He doesn't let you lift a finger to do almost anything and he even asked captain Price not to allow you to leave the base for any more missions. He couldn't bait to lose both of you.

He helps you with your craving and pregnancy pains —  his massages are divine and melt away any tension you may be feeling.

Close to delivery, when you can no longer bear the weight of your very own stomach, he holds your belly gently with both hands, slowly freeing you from the weight of your little girl for a few seconds — seconds that relieve you absurdly.

Actually cries when he sees his baby for the first time — she's just so tiny, all wrapped around a blanket and her baby clothes, her foot is barely the size of his thumb and she's a little carbon copy of him in appearance. He's utterly glad you decided to keep her over five months ago. He couldn't imagine a world where you three didn't exist anymore.

He is completely disarmed by his daughter. He can face any enemy without hesitation, but if she cries in the morning or asks for something with that look in her eyes, he simply melts.

Protection is his second name. He checks locks, cameras, and sleeps lightly, as if he was still in the field. But the truth is that he just wants to make sure that nothing will hurt the two people he loves most in the world.

As your husband (fucking finally, right?), Simon is silent… but constant. He doesn't need big words; he shows it with actions. Coffee ready, blanket pulled up in the middle of the night, arm around waist without saying anything. He is simply perfect.

[huntingcupid]

LOWKEY — L.R

I don't really give a fuck about all the "he said, she said" bullshit so pick your poison love, let's go somewhere a little more exclusive

⌗ LARA — fem!reader, angst, fluff, silent animosity, no actual arguments, tension, swearing, dream academy mentioned, predebut - touch time line, 7thmember!reader, cyber bullying, etc...

⌗ SYPNOSIS — due to you being quiet and kept to yourself during dream academy, you unexpectedly made yourself seem like a mean girl, making the person you liked which is lara also have a secret animosity towards you

⌗ CUPID — warning missy and mitra are mentioned...ew, anyways request by @artistwitchgirl here ya go babe

you've been lurking around instagram for an hour now — until a message popped up on your phone, it was from a womans account, her bio read of being some producer and scouter — it sounded like a scam obviously yet you still opened the message

“do you want to be the next generation of idol’s?, today is your lucky day hybe has chosen to scout you, if interested send a 1 minute video of either a dance, song (with no backtrack) or rap, thank you very much” you tilt your head wondering how they even found your account, either way you didn't want to get scammed so you closed it

you didn't think about the message for a good week, there it sat in your inbox unopened since you first received it — it's not like you're untalented, and oh you only live once

you sigh defeatedly, setting up your phone to record yourself singing — you rewatched the video almost hundreds of times scared that you might have just did all this for a scam text — you clicked send and it was sent

you power off your phone, hands clammy and very much nervous, “it's just a video” you mutter to yourself trying to calm your nerves

ding, your phone vibrates with a notification just a few days after you had sent the video — you open it seeing the woman had responded, “can we have you in a video meeting later by 12?” you type and erase your response, eventually ending up sending a simple, “yeah of course!”

you take a cold shower, getting ready for the meeting wearing your favorite shirt that you barely even wear, doing your makeup extra pretty, the clock ticks each tick getting closer to 12, you anxiously open your laptop waiting for the woman to send the link

you tap your finger on the table, until you see the notification pop up, you click the link joining the meeting — two other people were in the meeting, the woman you had been talking to and some dude who looked quiet professional

throughout it they were speaking about what you are gonna join and how and where you needed to improve — and to be frank you didn't understand half of what they are saying you just smiled and nodded

well until they told you when you are gonna fly out to la, your eyes almost pop out of your head — you barely left your apartment now your gonna move to a completely different place almost thousands of miles away

you take a minute to let the words and decisions sink in, thoughts flood your mind of the worst case scenarios, what if i fail, what if i get into a accident, what if-

“y/n?, you there?” the woman's voice cuts through your train of thought, you blink and open your mouth to speak but your afraid of what you might say

“yeah, uhm I'll get my things packed and we'll fly out in a week right?” you mutter almost like it was a secret, “yeah, we will have one of our staff's pick you up when you get dropped of at la” the explanation continues

after the meeting the weight of your decision finally settles in, suddenly your packing away your life not sure of how this may affect it — you're ready to try it obviously

your shitty part time job that you got the quit was the best part — the plane ride was smooth and you didn't think about what may happen for maybe an hour or two

when you arrived you got picked up by a woman her name's aliyah, aliyah explained further where you'll be living and just what the woman you spoke to on Instagram said as well

when you made it to the house you finally met the other girls who had gotten scouted or auditioned to, “hi!, I'm karlee” the shorter korean said, “hi I'm sophia” the filipina one followed, there you met 7 girls, karlee, sophia, adela, megan, emily, daniela, ezrela and lexie — they helped you get familiar with scheduling and how to get around the house

after maybe a month or two you got introduced to more girls, and then the unthinkable happens

when the management had formed a group of 20 girls they announced how you were going public under the dream “dream academy” you however didn't like this

you had continuously asked the management if you were gonna compete or was it a competition yet they denied, now you're gonna go against the girls you had lived with for months?, this is absolute bullshit

you wanted to quit right away, especially when you realized how much you have grown to like lara, in a romantic way, the indian was talented, nice and so confident — you never really got close to her due to the fact you were scared to

for the next few weeks you tired your best to distance yourself from the rest, creating a barrier, as the show starts you got introduced to the world, you had a pretty big fan base, you always silently liked and commented on posts by the other girls, supporting them thru a anonymous account

the first group mission rolled around, you were grouped in the omg group, you did pretty well

what you failed to realize was lara's growing animosity towards you the rest of the girls had been talking about your strange behavior how you're very quiet and almost looked like your judging others

“yeah like why does she always side eye us?” lara chimes in as the rest of the girls nod in unison, “it's like if you hate us just say it?, don't be a bitch about it” adela follows

the door clicks as you enter the house, silence floods the living room as the girls look around keeping quiet — “hi” you mutter as the rest just wave, not lara though she rolled her eyes and went to her shared room, you follow up going to your room too — you knew something was wrong, the way they seemed to fake their reaction towards you spoke louder than their words, that night you talked to ezrela

“can i ask you something?” you said, the smaller girl nods smiling at you, “am i being a bit too off? like do i seem like a mean girl?” you follow for a moment ezrela stopped — her eyes wandering in the room trying to formulate a nice enough answer, “y/n, i don't know how to put this but the rest of the girls see you as maybe a bit of a bitch” she replies softly, you tilt your head confused and somewhat guilty of why they feel that way, you had acted way too distant making you seem so out of touch

the camera crew approached you and ezrela, and you went dead silent only nodding and hugging the shorter girl

two weeks in eliminations started — adela was first to go, making lara a bit upset — even more upset at you as you had the highest votes she didn't see you as deserving as the rest, yes you were talented but your attitude seem to tick her the wrong way

the night adela got eliminated you cried, you weren't close but seeing how much she worked hard and how loved she was by the rest made it hurt — and hearing the silent chatter around you made it worse, words like “y/n doesn't deserve it” or “she should've been first” made its way back to you — you couldn't help but feel lonely, feel unworthy, you stayed in your room until you heard faint rustling outside your door

“y/n can we come in?” sophias voice came through, “sure” you replied wiping your tears and composing yourself, “hey” you softy mutter, sophia, megan and emily came in

“we know you've heard what we've said about you, and we want to apologize for that” they explained which you nod to, “I'm sorry for being distant too, i just don't want to get attached” the girls understood, you started tearing up feeling so guilty about how you have acted — “y/n don't cry” sophia softly whispers hugging you, you haven't felt so safe in so long you four made up and they helped you make it up to the rest too

the last one was lara who refused to even talk to you — it was mission 3 near finals only a couple of you were left and it didn't make sense for you not to make it up to her

every elimination you felt scared maybe your next, maybe she is, you felt so vulnerable, how the management just recorded as you and the rest of the girls slowly got your mental health wrecked — you often talked to missy about your experience, since you had no one to run to

finally it was the finale — one by one the girls got picked it was the final spot only you, ezrela, marquise and emily were left, your hands shaky feeling nervous

“your final member for katseye is — y/n!” the announcer blares you crouch feeling happy and so proud, tears start flowing as you hug the others saying how proud you are — making it to the line up manon hugs you immediately as she mutters something about how grateful she is, “fuck i didn't expect this” you giggle as daniela laughs along with you

yet your eyes followed her, followed lara — she didn't hug you but only congratulated you from afar, after the event you went to stay at megan's house eating and celebrating

“we really are in a girl group now” you murmur as you and megan lay in her bed, “yeah, what the fuck is happening” she replies softly laughing — “missy told me we will be moving in a separate house in a few weeks” you mutter which megan hums to, “that'd be nice, god this journey wrecked me”, “me too” you replied

during the weeks you didn't have anything to do, you juggled working in a small local café and still training a bit, improving your dance and singing — during these days you reflected on how much you've grown as a person

the day you had to move in with the rest of the girls was the best — you were roomed with megan and lara which seemed a bit to targeted, knowing missy knew about your relationship with lara, you bunked with megan often sharing clothes with her

meetings were called about your upcoming debut — the girls got transformed some getting their hair dyed and some getting it cut, lara got this red fiery color which highlighted her features so well, you got a layered haircut with a dark blue dye

“okay miss fine shit” megan jokes which you laugh to, “yes miss ginger” you replied as you two giggle — you were in awe at how beautiful the rest were, yet you can't seem to peel your eyes off lara, how she looked like an actual goddess — manon noticed and teased you abit

“you are so gay” manon says, looking at lara too, you gasp, surprised with her words — “can't I just appreciate how a woman looks?” you tried explaining which manon only sarcastically nods to, “okay fine!” you mutter next defeated

the filming for debut was one of the best experiences ever, very tiring but fun — you got the hang off a building in the music video which was so amazing, it garnered quite a lot of views but when touch got released you really skyrocketed

the song garnered over 100 million streams in spotify and a few million on youtube, during this katseye was starting to promote in different countries starting in korea

that's until the documentary dropped — you didn't want to watch it nor promote it, yet seeing the hate you and the rest got was so draining, lara however got the most disgusting remarks ever, which made you boil in rage — you've addressed multiple times on weverse that you had no beef with anyone especially lara, despite this lara still got bullying allegations and non stop racism

during this you were in japan — promoting touch, the girls were out exploring tokyo as you and lara decided to stay in the hotel room, you heard faint sobs and coughing from the restroom, you didn't want to peek knowing she needed her own time

but as her voice grew louder and her sobs seemed to not stop you decided to enter, knocking and going in

“lara?” you ask as she sat on the ground head down hugging her legs covering her face — “what” she hissed, “lara you shouldn't take anything personally, don't mind them” you mutter sitting next to her,

she stood up abruptly and went to her bed, laying down muttering something, “lara, you are so beautiful,” you murmured, sitting next to her lying form, “why are you lying?!, you probably think the same way they do” lara snaps, sitting up as her tears continued flowing a moment, you were stunned, and quickly, you got upset

“lara i don't fucking know why you think i hate you but i don't, i care about you so fucking much that i want you to know what they say doesn't matter!, whatever those freaks on the internet say or do you'll always be pretty and talented — i know that, you're such a wonderful person and it hurts to see you cry” you heave, breathing heavily lara was shocked to say the least, “so don't fucking push me away now, hate me for as long as you want but I'll always love you and support you” you follow

a beat passes by and you two were silent, lara looks at you with this newfound interest — she slowly got close to you and hugged you tightly her head resting on your shoulders as she murmurs thank you's — her voice was small and vulnerable something you have never seen lara been, minutes pass with you two stuck in this predicament, the weight of the hate she got slowly faded replaced with your warm embrace

lara lifts her head up looking into your eyes, searching for something — her hands flew to your nape, soon connecting your lips together, it wasn't rushed but it felt fast, her lips tasted like cherries and were soft like clouds you melt deeper into her touch, your hands on her waist guiding her closer

“I love you,” lara mutters as you two pull away, needing to breathe. lara never looked better her lips swollen and her hair tousled — as her hands were on your nape, “I love you more,” you replied

it felt weird, that after months of animosity and how far you two were from each other just for it to be fixed with a simple comforting gesture — its crazy how lara hated your guts but now is gripping your body close to her

wc: 2.4k words