#not sure what it means but i'll keep it in mind

[minalover]

When Maddie's morning cup of decaf is interrupted by a persistent knocking at the door, she just knows it's Buck. Buck, her beloved baby brother, her pearl of great price, the biggest pain in her ass, having what is, no doubt, another crisis about his love life. Is it Tommy? Is it Eddie? Is it Taylor Goddamn Kelly?

Who knows. Truly.

She slowly pushes away from the kitchen table, forever grateful that her toddler, who would not have slept through this incessant banging, is already at school. Her belly, now at just over eight months, tilts her forward, causing her to waddle like a penguin across her living room and towards the noise.

She grips the handle and starts talking before she even opens the door.

"I told you, Buck, you've just gotta tell him--"

But it isn't Buck.

"Eddie," Maddie says, slightly louder and more shocked than she intended. "It's like, 9:30 in the morning, is everything okay?"

Taking him in, he doesn't look okay. His hair is wild, like he's been running his fingers through it over (and over) and over again. His cheeks are tomato pink and he's almost vibrating.

"Maddie. Hi. Hello. Good morning."

"Good morning, Eddie," she placates, putting on her best toddler-about-to-have-a-tantrum voice. "Would you like some coffee? It's decaf."

"Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Decaf's good."

He grabs his hair (again), pushes it out of his face (it wasn't in his face), and barrels through the front door and toward the kitchen.

By the time Maddie makes it back there, Eddie's standing and staring blankly at the coffee pot.

"Can you let me just--I'll just sneak in here--"

"I kissed Buck."

Maddie flops down on one of the chairs at the island.

"Okay, you wanna run that by me one more time?"

Eddie flings himself around, luckily catching himself with his hands on the other side of the little table from Maddie.

"I kissed him! He was taking Chris to school, and I walked up to Chris and I grabbed his head, like I do all the time, and kissed him on the top of the head, like I do, all the time, but then I just..."

With the patience of every saint in the communion, she waits for Eddie to finish his sentence.

"I grabbed his head. And I kissed him."

"On the lips?"

"No. On the forehead. He's tall. I keep forgetting."

Maddie takes a loud breath. Not as deep as she'd like, but the oxygen is good. At least that's what Chimney says when he has to deal with buckandeddie at work.

"Okay. And how do you feel about that?"

Somehow, Eddie's cheeks go from tomato pink to pomegranate magenta.

"I don't know, I mean. I. I think Buck will be unbelievably cool about it," Eddie rambles, speed increasing while his oxygen is definitely decreasing. "Like he's cool about everything. Christ, what was I thinking just moving back into his house that I abandoned, oh God, Maddie, does he think I abandoned him? I never wanted to, I never meant to--"

"Woah, there, Eddie, slow down." She's pretty sure that her brother's about to feel some kind of way if Eddie spontaneously combusts in her kitchen.

Eddie's breathing heavy, chest and shoulders cascading up and down with the air he's shoving in and out. His eyes are wide and, if Maddie's not mistaken, there are tears growing in his lash line.

"Eddie?" Maddie questions gently, moving her hand over his, a symbol of support in the echoes of his mind. "I think we might need an answer to that question."

"Which question?"

"How do you feel about it? That you kissed Buck on the forehead?"

She watches as he schools his face into something loud, and then quiet, and then dark. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. Doesn't open them before he speaks.

"Like I want to kiss him again."

He opens his eyes, big and brown and full of tears. They meet hers, and, by the way his face is swimming in her vision, hers might match.

"Oh, Eddie."

"I know, Maddie," he continues frantically, pushing his free hand in and out of a fist on the table. "I can't ask that of him. I moved back in with him and he's been so unbelievably--"

"Cool," she adds on a laugh. "So you said."

"Maddie," Eddie groans.

"Eddie, Buck has never been cool. Not a day in his life. Especially not about you."

He freezes in his shoes, fist halfway curled open like some sort of claw.

"What do you mean?"

"Eddie. Come on. He's crazy about you. I've known it from the beginning."

His face, wide and open, apparently needs a little more information than that.

"Look, I called his crush on you before he'd even moved out of Abby's house!"

If it's possible, Eddie's mouth is now open wider.

"Maddie... I can't... have this enormous crush on him. Be... in love with him. He's my roommate, and my best friend and I can't lose him. I won't. I refuse."

"Oh," she scoffs, "so you're just gonna swallow this down forever?"

In an instant, Eddie goes smaller than she's ever seen him before. His voice is small too.

"If I have to. He can never know."

"Uh, it's a little late for that," Chimney interrupts from the dining room.

Maddie and Eddie both snap their heads up towards the voice. But instead of Chimney they see, it's--

"Buck?"

Eddie's hand is still in Maddie's, but his voice is now directed to her little brother, standing wide-eyed behind Chimney, shoulders slouched like he used to do when he'd had a bad day at school. She pats his hand and pushes off the table, waddling over to her husband.

"Buck, why don't you and Eddie sit and have some coffee. There's decaf in the pot."

She watches as Buck moves through the room, brushing her across the shoulders as he passes, but eyes never once moving from Eddie.

As she and Chimney back up a little farther into the dining room, she hears her brother's voice.

"Did you mean it?"

"Did I mean what?"

"Well, all of it. Any of it. Did you mean what you told my sister? Did you mean to kiss me this morning before you left the house?"

"Eddie kissed Buck?!" Chimney whispershouts into Maddie's temple, as she brings a hand to his upper arm to slow him down. They're not eavesdropping, no of course not. Just. Enjoying the view from their dining room on a beautiful morning where they each have a few hours together. Of course.

"What if I do?" Eddie starts again.

"What if you do?" Buck questions back.

"Mean it."

"Then I'm gonna need you to kiss me again. And aim a little lower this time, would you?"

Maddie grabs Chimney by the arm and drags him all the way back to their bedroom, lest they bear witness to a secret that's definitely not theirs to tell.

[wwinterwitch]

safe haven – bucky barnes

summary: bucky goes back to you after the void incident pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader word count: 3.7k tags: thunderbolts* spoilers!, vague void experience on purpose (for the full x reader experience), sam is back and he's pissed, fluff and fluff and more fluff (love is in the air people!), comfort, kissing, things get heated at the end but no actual smut is included (i think i'll make another part exclusively for the smut lovers, so the people that don't read smut can still enjoy this part)

please reblog and/or comment in you enjoy!

all masterlists | marvel masterlist | previous part

You gasp, snapping back to reality after...whatever the fuck just happened, trying to catch your breath in hopes of easing your headache and slow your heart rate. The broom you were using to clean up your apartment lays on the floor next to you, everything looking the exact same as it was when you left.

It cannot possibly be another Thanos situation, right? That time it felt like you just blinked, but now it feels like you've been gone for long tortuous hours. That time your roommate almost had a heart attack when you knocked on the door of your shared apartment because she thought she’d never see you again. And you certainly don't remember anything about experiencing the blip. Now...now you wish you could forget what you saw back there.

You were forced to experience the most traumatizing memories playing in a loop over and over again until all you could do is sit in a corner and cry as you beg for the images to go away. A horrifying display of the darkest moments of your life. The times you felt more unhappy and hopeless. And every time you thought you’d managed to escape, you’d just end up in yet another memory.

But somehow you're back in your apartment now. Everything looks the exact same and it seems like no time has passed.

Still, even when it seemingly feels like you're safe, you can't help but feel uneasy. The thought of what you saw is still very much present in the back of your mind, replaying over and over again, taking over your senses and clouding your judgement. 

What if this is just another trick and you’re about to experience another horrible memory? You look around your apartment, too afraid to move, expecting to see something that confirms that you’re still stuck in this never-ending nightmare. That you’ll have to stay in this place for the rest of your life.

The unexpected buzzing of your phone makes you jump, snapping you back to reality as you frantically search for it. Quickly spotting it on top of your dinner table, you keep wondering what the hell is happening as you read Sam's name on your screen.

“WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN? I'VE BEEN TEXTING YOU LIKE CRAZY,” you hear him shout on the other line as soon as you picked up, sounding incredibly agitated.

“I'm sorry, I...I don't exactly know what happened,” you mutter, staring outside the window in hopes of seeing something out there that might give you any clues of what is going on. To your surprise, you can see a few ambulances speeding past your street and you can spot a large cloud of smoke in the distance. 

Bucky and the others are most likely involved in that commotion. You can only hope that they’re okay, still having no updates. You can’t really tell how much time has passed since they left, so you can’t know for sure when Bucky is going to show up.

“The entirety of New York just went black,” he explains. “It just looked like darkness.”

“What?” you ask in disbelief. “I don't remember anything about it. I was just cleaning up my apartment and then somehow I was in...I don't even know what it was. It was like purgatory or something.”

“What do you mean?”

You sigh, not really wanting to go into too much detail about the stuff you had to witness. Honestly, you wish you could just forget it. “It was like being tortured, Sam. I don't know what it was, just that it was awful. I was cleaning my apartment and that's pretty much the last thing I remember before waking up in that place.”

There's a brief silence and for a second you thought perhaps the call was disconnected, but you suddenly hear Sam's voice again. “Oh, you have to be fucking kidding me!”

“What happened?” you say, evidently confused.

“Put on the news,” he sighs, muttering something else under his breath you can't quite hear correctly. “I gotta go, but I'll talk to you later, okay?” he says in a ruther rushed voice, sounding both pissed and worried. “Take care.”

“Sure. Bye, Sam.”

You hang up the phone as you sit on your couch, TV remote in your hand as you search for any news broadcast that's on. As soon as you find one, you stare at it in disbelief. There, in the middle of a street, is Valentina giving some bullshit speech you don't really care to pay attention to, and behind her stands the entire group of people that were in your apartment just seconds (or minutes? Hours?) ago, joined by a blonde guy you have never seen before.

They look exhausted and visibly confused to be in front of so many cameras. Bucky and Yelena look particularly pissed. But what matters the most to you is that they're all alive.

The next thing that really catches your attention is the text on the banner beneath the image. 'Introducing the New Avengers'.

What the hell is really going on right now?

The broadcast finally ended, and it doesn't take Bucky that long to arrive. All he wanted to do was to get away from Valentina and all the press that just kept taking pictures of him and the others. He barely even acknowledged the rest of the group, leaving as soon as possible. All he wants right now is to see you and make sure you're okay. He knows you're probably safe– of course you are, but he won't be calm until he's standing before you to make sure you really are unharmed.

He walks inside your apartment and immediately walks towards you, grabbing your face with both of his hands as soon as he's standing in front of you, frantically scanning your face for any sight of hurt or discomfort. It's almost as if you were the one out there fighting.

“Are you okay?” he asks, slightly out of breath, still not letting you go.

“Yes, I'm okay,” you reply with a reassuring smile, and he immediately pulls you in for a hug. “How are you?”

“Uh...as good as I can be.” 

His arms are still tightly wrapped around you, not wanting to let you go any time soon. Yes, he’s holding onto you because it’s a huge relief to confirm that you’re safe, but it also brings him an enormous amount of comfort, which is what he was craving ever since he stepped foot into the void.

“What kind of answer is that?”

“I don't know. It's been a lot. I was so worried about you.”

“I was so worried about you!”

He pulls away just enough, and you almost want to roll your eyes at the playful smirk on his face. “Don't try to make this a competition.”

“I won't make it a competition because I would obviously win,” you reply, exasperated. “I wasn't the one who was out there fighting...what was the guy's name again?”

“Sentry.” There’s a brief pause, his expression hardening considerably. “Were you there too?”

You get even more exasperated because you still don't understand shit. “Where?”

“The void.”

Realization hits you right there. The entirety of New York being consumed by darkness as Sam explained over the phone, the horrible things you had to see...of course a place like that would have such a fitting name. It felt exactly like it. You just felt empty and alone.

“So that's what it was. And the entire city was experiencing the same thing?” you ask, still in complete disbelief at the idea of one person having that much power. It certainly is a terrifying and dangerous ability to have. 

Then, after a quick pause, you realize Bucky had to experience that too, immediately hating the idea of him having to endure that. "Were you...?"

Bucky notices the shift in your expression, offering you a weak smile. “Yeah, we were all there.”

You don't know what to say at first. If you thought you had a hard time in there, you can't even begin to imagine the horrors Bucky was forced to watch over and over again. It breaks your heart to think about it. Even when he has made a lot of progress when it comes to healing from his past and learning to forgive himself, it doesn't mean the pain and guilt are not there.

“I'm so sorry,” is all you can say, feeling completely useless at that moment. Sorry doesn't make it better in any way.

“It's okay. It's not like this is the first time I've been there.”

His last statement absolutely crushes you. If you could find a way to take all of that burden off his shoulders, you'll do it in a heartbeat. Still feeling completely useless, you decide to pull him in for another hug, because at least that’s doing a little more than just saying you’re sorry.

“I wish I could do more to make you feel better,” you whisper, feeling his fingers gently running through your hair in an affectionate manner, kissing the top of your head.

“Being here with you is more than enough,” he whispers back. “You are more than enough."

“Oh, please don't make me cry now,” you warm him with a soft giggle, feeling like a few tears might actually come out any second now.

The sound of Bucky's laugh makes you feel just a hundred times better about the entire situation involving that stupid void, loving to hear it under such circumstances. It's impossible not to feel overwhelmed right now. That place really left you feeling like an emotional mess.

You move back from the hug just enough and Bucky takes that as his opportunity to pull you in for a kiss. The type of kiss that makes your knees weak and leaves your mind completely blank. A kiss you see in a movie with fireworks adorning the night sky, right before the end credits roll. One that feels like he's been dying to give you a kiss since he closed the door of your apartment before New York was consumed by darkness.

A kiss that shows you he really does mean it when he says you are more than enough.

“I'm really happy you're okay,” he mutters right after the kiss, resting his forehead against yours, eyes still closed.

I love you. That's all you can think of in this moment, and it takes everything in you not to say it out loud because how fucking insane would that be? To not even be an official couple and already say such a thing? Perhaps it wouldn't be so crazy given you've been best friends for so many years (and you've had a crush on him for most of them), but still. It's just too soon. Too weird. Too intense.

The fucking void really did numbers on you. Just get it together, please!

“I'm happy you're okay too,” is what you say instead, which sounds appropriate. And not weird. And not intense at all.

You offer to make him a snack after all that happened, forcing him to take a seat when he said he could do it himself. As you prepared a few sandwiches, he tried to explain as much as possible about everything that's been going on.

“So Bob doesn't remember anything?” you ask once he's done, just as you're handing him a plate with two grilled cheese sandwiches.

“Apparently,” he replies, right before leaning over the counter to give you a quick kiss as a way of thanking you for the food.

“Well, that's probably for the best, right? I mean if the Sentry part returns, it's only a matter of time until the Void part wants to have a bit of fun again too.”

He practically devours one of the sandwiches, looking like he hasn't eaten in centuries. “Probably,” he says nonchalantly, clearly more focused on eating. It's impossible to blame him for it, especially considering everything he's been through today.

You can't help but smile at the image of him eating the sandwiches like he's been deprived of food his entire life. So much so that he can barely hold a conversation.

I love you. It's like you just couldn't hold yourself back from wanting to blurt those three little words once again. Like it's physically impossible to hold them in. It doesn’t matter if he’s saying cute things to you or if he’s eating like a caveman. You love both sides of him. 

But you can't say it. You can't be weird.

Instead, you try a much more appropriate approach once again. “You're so cute,” you say with a smile, moving closer to run a hand through his hair affectionately. Then, you suddenly remember something that you two haven't discussed yet, and your 'I'm-so-down-bad' smile turns into a 'just-thought-of-the-best-joke-ever' smirk. “Might as well start calling you the cutest Avenger, huh?”

He turns to look at you with a soft grin on his face, immediately shaking his head. “Please, tell me you didn't see that.”

“Oh, but of course I did!” You take a seat next to him on your kitchen counter, getting more comfortable to continue teasing him. “The news called you ‘The New Avengers’. Who would’ve thought!”

“It was all Valentina's plan to save her ass.”

“So you guys are not going to accept the title?”

“We are, but we still need to have a few meetings to set some rules if we plan on working together…and boundaries.”

“Oh, don’t act like you’re so irritated by the idea! I can tell you’re starting to feel more comfortable around them.”

He’s completely silent for a few seconds, knowing he can’t lie without you noticing. “Okay. They might be growing on me.”

“Awwh,” you reply, but not with the intention of making fun of him. “I thought they were very nice. And I'm glad you're making new friends.”

“You're never gonna stop teasing me about any of these, aren't you?”

“Well...yeah, but I actually mean it when I say I like seeing you meeting new people,” you reply, changing your tone and demeanor to let him know you're serious. “And yes, I'll tease you about the whole Avengers thing, but that doesn't mean I'm not excited to witness this new chapter in your life.”

You begin gently caressing his arm as you offer him a sincere smile. “You deserve it. You deserve to be recognized for your kind heart and your willingness to help others,” you continue. “I'm so proud of how far you've come. And I'm sure Steve is proud of you too.”

The mention of his childhood friend brings a melancholy to his expression that is both sad and beautiful to see. It shows he still deeply misses him, but has learned to think of him without breaking down. It's the type of expression you have when you've finally found peace with the fact that someone you love is not around anymore...not entirely around, at least. He'll always carry a part of Steve Rogers with him.

"Thank you," he says, genuinely meaning it. 

I love you. Those three words threaten to make their way into your conversation again, but this time it's not you the one fighting back the urge to say them.

But It's just a little too soon, right? Last thing he wants is to make things awkward between the two of you. So he decides not to say anything, just like you have decided twice already.

You smile, standing up from your seat. “Finish eating, okay? I have to clean the mess the New Avengers left in my living room earlier.”

“Yeah, you'll have to get used to that, unfortunately.”

“Like I haven't had to deal with that before,” you joke, hinting back at all the times you had people like Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton randomly showing up at your place.

Bucky stays in your kitchen while you finish brooming until you’re sure the floor of your living room is impeccable, familiarity slowly setting in after everything that happened today. You could faintly hear Bucky having a phone call with someone, but you couldn't quite make the words out over the music you had playing on your own phone to make the cleaning much more entertaining.

You go back to your kitchen to throw away the dirt and dust you collected from the living room, just in time to see Bucky standing up to wash the dish he used, sandwiches long gone.

“I just got a call from Sam,” Bucky says as soon as he notices you, his tone letting you know it wasn't exactly a pleasant conversation.

“What did he want?”

“For us to immediately backtrack and not go through with the whole Avengers thing.”

“Yeah, he called me just as it was airing and he didn't sound too happy about it. What are you going to do?”

Bucky sighs, exhaustion visible in his demeanor. “I'll talk to him later. I don't think anyone in the team feels like backtracking right now. Most of them looked pretty excited actually.” You can't help but smile, which makes him let out a soft chuckle. “What?”

“You said 'the team'. I just thought it was cute,” you shrug, crossing your arms across your chest. “I should invite them for a pizza night or something. Get to know them a little better. And meet this Bob guy too.”

“You'll invite John?” he asks, half-joking.

“Please don't call him John,” you immediately reply, squinting your nose in disgust. “I'll have to warm up to him...very slowly. I still feel like punching him in the face when I see him.”

“That's fair,” he agrees with you, perfectly understanding where your discomfort with John Walker's presence comes from. Perhaps that might explain some of the reasons as to why Sam seems so against the idea of this team being a thing.

You notice Bucky walks towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Even when the possible pizza night sounds exciting, I kind of just want to think about the two of us spending time together alone,” he says, grinning mischievously. 

A shiver runs down your spine when you feel his fingers near your neck, gently pulling the fabric of your hoodie to the side, exposing more of your collarbone. He places a few kisses there. Slow and careful.

“Perhaps I can stay here with you for a few more days?” he suggests, right before leaving another kiss on your skin, using his other hand that’s firmly placed on your lower back to bring your body closer to his.

“Of course you can stay,” you reply in a soft voice, trying not to let it show just how much his actions are affecting you.

He practically hums against your skin. “Do you want me to stay?” he whispers, definitely making you shiver now that his metal fingers are tracing lazy patterns on your skin, underneath your hoodie. What a teasing piece of shit.

It’s almost impossible to speak now. “Yes.”

His fingers trail further up your spine, but not that much higher. Just enough to allow you to feel his touch in a slightly different place, making you crave for more. A silent reminder that he can just move his fingers wherever he pleases, but he deliberately chooses not to grant you that pleasure.

“Then say it properly.”

It’s not a suggestion or a plea. It’s straight up an instruction. And he sounds like he’s absolutely certain that you’ll do exactly as he says. 

And you do. “I want you to stay here with me.”

The kisses on your neck continue and it feels like a reward, so you just stand there and enjoy it, allowing him to worship your skin with his lips until you're practically trapped between his body and the counter.

You can feel your cheeks burning red, the warmth spreading to the rest of your body with each kiss. “Don't you want to take a shower?” you try being a voice of reason, your brain just doing whatever it can to help you feel less nervous.

“Why? You're thinking about joining me?” he whispers against your skin, which immediately makes you regret ever opening your mouth because what the fuck is wrong with him and how does he dare to say something like that?

Okay. To justify your growing nerves, you've technically never been fully intimate with Bucky yet. You've been pretty close because a girl can only hold back for so long, but the two of you have been mainly focusing on your emotional connection and that one is just so mind-blowingly special that there hasn't been a need to immediately jump to the physical aspects of your relationship.

But oh, is he tasting your limits right now...

“How you even have the energy right now is beyond me,” you comment again. You're not against the idea of something happening, but your nervous brain gets the best of you so you find yourself blurting out random things yet again.

Finally, Bucky moves away just enough, a playful smile adorning his lips. “I'll always have the energy for you,” he replies, and the implication behind his words has you blushing even harder.

You immediately hide your face in his chest while he wraps his arms around you, laughing at your reaction. “I hate you,” you mutter.

“No, you don't.”

That's true. You really don't hate him at all. It's actually quite the opposite, but you can already picture him walking out the front door if he hears you say how you truly feel about him. The thought of daring to confess you love him is a thousand times more terrifying than the idea of having sex with him for the first time.

You look up, smiling up at him when he kisses your forehead. “No, I don't.”

“Glad to see you're agreeing with me for once in your life,” he comments playfully.

“Don't push it,” you warn him, making him laugh once again.

“How about I take a shower like you suggested and then we take a nap together,” he suggests casually, still keeping his arms around you. “I think we can both use a little sleep.”

“Yeah, a nap sounds good.”

“Wow, two in a row! What has gotten into you?” he jokes yet again, trying to get you to stay in his arms when you start to push him away after that little comment, but he doesn't put up that much resistance, so you're eventually getting away from him.

“You're insufferable,” you comment in an obviously fake tone of annoyance, right before leaving the kitchen to head towards your bedroom.

“And you're beautiful,” he replies with a genuine smile, following after you.

[everrinsly]

life with rin vibes.

the utter objectification of rin's biceps.

biceps with rin. fluff. slight nsfw. very suggestive. fem!reader. | not proofread.

more reads!

~~~~~

Your first mistake was attempting to keep Rin company while he exercised—

"You wanna watch me, baby?"

He kissed your forehead softly before moving around the basement, collecting the scattered dumbbells from his sets the day before.

"Y-Yeah, I-I can keep you company," you stuttered, cheeks warm. Because even though you've been together for two years, he never failed to make your heart flutter.

He hummed. "You might get bored. You wanna watch something?" he asked, glancing back at the TV mounted on the wall.

"Mm... it's okay, Rin, I'll be fine—"

(Such lies).

—so now, you were here. On the floor, your back against the foot of the couch.

You should’ve looked away.

You really, really should’ve.

But the sight of Rin working out made you crumble—sweat glistening down his neck, sleeves shoved up over his shoulders, and those arms (let me repeat, those arms) were on full display as he curled the dumbbells like they were nothing.

Thick, veined, flexing with every movement.

You eyed him through your lashes, pretending to scroll through your phone, cheeks red, thighs pressed together like that might help the intrusive thoughts crawling through your mind.

(It didn't).

You bit your lip. The taste of your strawberry chapstick graced your tongue.

Rin didn’t speak. He rarely did during workouts. But you knew he was aware of you. The smug, silent... dangerous... kind of aware, like he could feel you watching him, soaking in every contraction of his biceps like you were starving.

And god—you tried not to imagine what it would feel like to sit on them. To grind on them. To ride—

(You failed. Miserably).

Your face burned hotter, red as a beet.

“Something wrong, baby?” he asked, finally. Casual, like he didn’t already know exactly what kind of nasty filth you were thinking.

You looked up quickly, snapped out of your trance but the feeling of heat in your core still lingering. “N-No.”

His eyebrow lifted, teal eyes scanning from your eyes to your bitten lips. “You sure?”

You nodded. "Mmhmm."

He didn't believe you.

He set the dumbbell down with a soft thud, stretching one arm behind his head—his bicep flexed, bulging, perfect. And fuck, you looked again. You couldn’t not (like it'd be rude to not stare).

Rin tilted his head.

“You’ve been staring at my arms for ten minutes,” he said, voice low and deep. “You wanna say something, pretty?”

You shook your head furiously, tucking your face behind your phone again.

He smirked.

“I’ll say it for you then, yeah?”

You froze. Well... shit.

“I know you think about it,” Rin said, voice dropping to that teasing hush that made your stomach twist. “Don’t pretend you haven’t imagined what it’d be like. Sitting on them. Grinding down. Making a mess while I flex for you.”

Your phone slipped out of your hands.

God—he loved watching your cute, flushed face scrunch up, so he continued.

"You're wet. Aren't you, baby." It wasn't posed as a question. It didn't need to be. Because he knew and you knew. It was a fact.

“I—!” you gasped, utterly mortified. “I d-didn’t—I mean, I—!”

He laughed softly, rising to his feet and stepping towards you. He towered over you now. You couldn’t even look at him.

Rin crouched down, tilting your chin up with one finger, his other arm flexing just barely. Taunting. Teasing.

"You think they're the perfect size too, huh? Perfect for riding. Because my thighs are just too big, right? Too big for your tiny pussy to get off on? So you wanna rock on my biceps instead, isn't that right, pretty baby?"

Holy shit.

You short-circuited, brain stopping completely, all mushy and melting.

He leaned in closer, nose brushing yours, glazed eyes trailing down to your lips.

“Sweet little thing,” he murmured. “So shy, but you’ve got the dirtiest imagination.”

Your face was on fire.

“Maybe...” he whispered, leaning in just enough to brush his lips on yours.

You held your breath.

“I’ll let you test that theory after I finish my sets. So... be a good girl and keep watching me."

[bratbarzal]

for your valentines event ³⁾ "you've been teasing me all this time about being single just for you to get stood up?" "....." "move over, you're lucky i'm hungry." with quinny ❤️

✩‧₊˚ bratbarzal's valentines event!˚₊‧✩

"you've been teasing me all this time about being single just for you to get stood up?" "....." "move over, you're lucky i'm hungry." with toxic!quinn!!! ALOOF!QUINN TRUTHERS THIS IS YOUR MOMENT!!! this came to me in a fever dream last night tbh and escalated so hope you enjoy once again I took creative liberties with the exact wording (I didn't want it to be too much like the nico blurb) and I'm not sure this fits the vibe of the prompt but I saw I'm hungry and my mind went to one place!! and I don't even think this mentions valentines but what can you do it's may!!! (post requested blurbs within a normal response time you say??? who do you think I am?) I'm not great at writing smut but I did my best and my best is probably taking things too far with random interlinked plot dotted throughout

warnings: 18+ MDNI!! smut!! the filthy kind tbh - dom!quinn, oral (fem!receiving), fingering, squirting, slight/light/barely even spanking if you want to be dramatic lol, degrading comments maybe, brief mentions of previous sexual encounters, quinn is a menace and a dirty talking tease :) ~cheating but not really it's a first date with no labels that's going nowhere and reader and quinn have history. he's an asshole :) but I'd let him do unspeakable things also

4.7k words!!

The last place you expect to run into Quinn Hughes is in the middle of a bar.

The venue is too crowded to be somewhere he would usually visit - rowdy guys in the corner watching the baseball on the TV, even though you're not sure it's even live, a couple pool tables occupied with the kind of people who would recognise him in a heartbeat - and maybe that's why you chose it in the first place.

But you should have run for the hills the second you saw Elias Petterson and Brock Boeser on your way in. You should have known it would only be a matter of time before Quinn himself showed up, and that you would have no chance of escaping before he saw you.

"Was gonna offer to buy you some fries to share," he comments as he slides into the booth beside you, his eyes assessing the rest of the bar as if he's trying to gauge who might notice him talking to you. "But Petey said you were meeting someone,"

God, he can be such an asshole when he wants to be.

You haven't seen him for weeks, he's been ignoring your texts for weeks, and he can't even look you in the eye?

This is exactly why you keep telling yourself that you're done. This is exactly why when you mention him to your friends, they roll their eyes and tell you to just block his number and move on.

But they haven't seen the parts of him you've seen - the parts you so desperately cling to when he's cold like this.

"I am."

"I don't see anybody."

"He got held up at work."

"Of course he did." he scoffs, "You're being stood up. You're lucky I'm hungry though, I'll save you the embarrassment of sitting here on your own."

"Just because you're an asshole who ghosts girls the second things get serious, it doesn't mean Justin is."

"You don't have to get protective, sweetheart," he purrs, glancing down at you in a way that shouldn't make your throat seize, "Just saying, it's the oldest trick in the book. I was gonna sit with you but if you're gonna be snippy about it, I'm sure Justin will turn up eventually."

Asshole.

You couldn't be more thankful for the buzz of your phone on the table, pulling you from the depths of Quinn's gaze as you glance down, Justin's name flashing on your lock screen.

Quinn quirks a brow as he looks down, too, watching as you swipe into the message.

I'm here.

And then you glance to the entrance of the bar, relief flooding your system at the sight of him - not a sensation you ever thought you'd be feeling when you agreed to meet up with him after months of him asking.

But you're supposed to be getting over Quinn Hughes.

Justin is sweet, and you suppose he's attractive in a cute sort of way. He doesn't make your head spin, or your heart pound, or your stomach swirl into knots, but you're not supposed to want that, so he's the next best thing.

You edge past Quinn without sparing him another glance, hoping it hurts him in some way - hoping he at least feels something at your feigned indifference - and you proceed to spend the rest of your night unable to shift that hope.

Every time you force a laugh at one of Justin's attempts at a joke, you hope Quinn hears it.

Every time you try to flirt, you hope he sees it.

Every time you lean over the table when the two of you move over for a game of pool, you're hoping Quinn's watching.

And you think it must be the karma that comes from craving his attention that has you colliding with somebody else on their way back from the bar, their drink spilling all the way down the front of your top until it sheers out a little, and you excuse yourself to the bathroom to go and try clean up.

You really hope he didn't see that.

You're thankful it was vodka soda and not cranberry, the stain easy to shift with a little water and a blast of the hand dryer, and you're shrugging the top back on when you hear the rap of knuckles against the door.

"Yeah, sorry," you call out, shuffling towards the entrance, "I'm finished, it's all y-,"

Quinn stands on the other side of the door when you swing it open, hair astray like he's been running his hands through it endlessly, and his stature imposing.

“What are you doing?” You ask as he crowds into your space, backing up until you’re both in the bathroom, and he’s reaching back to lock the door behind him.

“Told you, I’m hungry,” and the look in his eyes confirms just that - dark and dangerous, a stormy swirl of greys and greens that make your breath stutter, the intensity sweeping straight through you.

He advances on you slowly, your feet stumbling back until you can steady yourself against the bathroom counter, and his gaze drops agonisingly down your body, lingering way too low for any sort of friendly admiration - because that's what he'd said the two of you were too many times to count, just friends.

You feel goosebumps rise as Quinn's head tilts, his eyes meeting yours just as the calloused pads of his fingertips graze the soft flesh of your thigh, just below the hem of your skirt.

"You wore this that time we fucked in my car after a game," he mutters, pushing ever so gently until his hand slips beneath the fabric, "Did you think of me when you put it on?"

"No," you gulp, your tone entire unconvincing.

The guys had all gone out after a win, and Quinn had texted you his location - meeting you outside the bar so that the rest of his teammates didn't see you and him together - and had driven you out to some random parking lot, had you crawl over the centre console into his lap, and had pushed this exact skirt up until it bunched at your hips and he could watch himself disappear into you.

It was so hot and sticky that you remember swiping little jagged finger marks against the fog on his window, and you wondered the next day when you saw him and he pretended that none of it happened if he had just wiped them away.

You'd remembered the incident as you were getting dressed, earlier, smoothing your hands down your hips and picturing the way his knuckles whitened as he took the skirt into his grip.

You don't get how he can so easily pretend the two of you are nothing when he remembers, too.

"So you wore it for him?" He doesn't push any higher, but his hand forms an authoritative grip around the back of your thigh, squeezing until they part by instinct, and he uses the leverage to slot his own leg between yours so that you can't fully close them again.

He knows how to work you like it's second nature to him.

He brings his other hand up to shift your hair back over your shoulder, clearing a path from your neck to your collarbone where he can trail his knuckle along the smooth skin just to make you shudder.

You shake your head, again, an unconvincing response, but what else can you do? You're too breathless to speak when he crowds into your space like this, and all you can smell is his cologne, and all you can feel is anticipation of his touch.

"Does he know you like being kissed right here?" His thumb presses down on your pulse point, the pressure firm in a way that makes your spine stiffen, and he tilts his head again as you meet his eye, his smirk condescending and so so sexy.

"We haven't kissed yet," you blink slow, trying to shake the daze he's put you under.

"Ahh," the grin Quinn gives now gives a flash of teeth, and you gulp at the visual it brings - said teeth sinking teasingly into the plush skin of the thigh he's still holding, and it's only then that you notice how his hand has moved, how his fingers are now curled into the leg of your panties. "So he's not taking care of you?" And then he pulls, and you gulp as you feel the fabric fall in his clutch, loosening once they're not flush around your hips anymore and dropping when he's pulled them down enough.

"Quinn," you warn, and he waits, to give him credit - his dark eyes narrowing in on yours, pupils blown, his tongue swiping out against his lips, and it takes you back to another night, a few weeks back.

Quinn turning up at your apartment late, his game having gone into overtime and then a subsequent shootout, and he looked exhausted - hair a mess, eyes sunken, shoulders slumped. The team had lost, and the first place he thought to go was to you, and maybe this was the delusion your friends kept warning you about when it came to him, but it had been the first night things between the two of you had been slower and softer.

The way he kissed you was different - it wasn't a rushed fumble into more, it was intentional and tender, he took his time advancing it into something more, and when he finally backed you into your bedroom, the two of you laid together far beyond the two rounds he managed before tapping out.

He let you stroke at his hair, and kiss at his skin, and see him beyond the cold and unattached version of himself he so often gave to you. And he didn't leave until the next morning.

And sure, that was the last time you saw him, and every text you've sent him since has gone unanswered, entirely, but you can't help but think something changed that night.

Something he doesn't want to acknowledge, now.

A loss of control, or a surrender to his feelings.

You can only hope it's finally the latter.

And because of that blind hope, you can't bring it in yourself to push him away - not if this is the only way he's going to let you have him, teasing and detached.

You swear he sees the moment you give in, when something shifts in his gaze, and he slowly, tormentingly drops to his knees before you.

He looks up at you from the lower position, palms caressing your thighs as he pushes them both up, your skirt following his ministrations and bunching at your hips until you're bare to him, and it's only then that his eyes shift - somehow you feel the intensity of them as much as they stare at your very core than you had when he was looking back up at you.

"Please," you whimper pathetically as he admires the way your legs part even further without prompting, the way your body crumbles and you lean back against the counter, arching to reveal yourself to him entirely.

"Look at you," he mutters as he brings one of his hands to the apex of your thighs, using his fingers to swipe through your folds and pulling them back to show you the sticky mess that now coats them, "So wet, already."

"Quinn,"

"For him?"

You shake your head as he repeats his actions, running his fingers from your entrance and bumping them teasingly against your clit, looking up at you again with a raise of his brow, prompting a further response and pressing lightly at the bundle of nerves until you answer.

"For you," you breathe, your hips stuttering forward to try and increase the pressure - but he knows you too well, anticipates your impatience and lightens his touch even more. "Only you."

"Good girl."

You gasp the second his mouth makes contact with your core - tongue pressing flat between your folds until he can lick a firm stripe upward, his lips closing sloppily around your clit until he sucks it into his mouth, the pressure of his kiss divine and mind-numbing.

Your feet stumble a little against the floor, and he braces his hands against your hips, pulling them firmly against his face so that he can hold you in place, and all you can do to maintain your balance is curl your fingers into his thick hair, pulling and tugging as you please - as he pleases you.

And God, you can't believe you thought you could just give this up. He's so good. So fucking good it's insane. And you really considered leaving things alone with him, for what - some nice guy from work who barely knows how to flirt with you?

Quinn's fingers curl into the soft flesh of your hips, the pressure firm enough it'll probably bruise by the morning, and he's nipping and licking at your pussy like he can't get enough - the sound of it alone is obscene enough to make your legs feel like jelly, and you're pretty sure you're going to collapse if he carries on like this.

You tug a little harder on his hair until he parts with a wet pop, the sound making your throat go dry so that all you can do is pant down at him in response.

And his eyes are clouded over, entirely, a hunger you've never seen before taking over him. His lips are parted and slick, and his chest is heaving like he was depriving himself of breath, and the sight of it takes your breath away.

You heave yourself up onto the counter behind you, parting your legs again and leaning back a little onto your hands - all without saying a word.

You don't need to say anything, though. Not to Quinn.

He's diving straight back in as soon as you're situated like a man starved, and from where you are now, you can shuffle into him a little, grinding against his tongue as it works against you - works inside you, even, and you slap a hand to your own mouth in a last-ditch attempt to conceal the moans and whines before they carry way beyond the locked door of the bathroom.

Quinn's displeasure with that fact is obvious when he pinches and smacks at the side of your ass, his hand shooting up until his fingers curl around your wrist and he tugs it away from your mouth, pulling away from your pussy to glare up at you from between your legs.

"Don't you dare," he huffs, "I'm putting in the work, I wanna hear how much you like it,"

"But Quinn-,"

The press of his finger into your entrance cuts you off, and the squeaky, surprised moan you let out seems to echo off of every wall, heat creeping up your neck as you hear how pathetic you sound as he pushes the digit all the way in, pressing as far as it will go into your spongey walls until your back is arching and he's straightening up with it still inside you.

"You think you can hide from me?" He asks as he crowds back into your space, your faces level and his other hand coming down onto the counter beside you. "You think I don't know how to make you scream for me?"

He presses another finger into you, and the slow stretch of your walls around him has your eyes fluttering shut, your head lulling forward until it bumps into his, and your clammy foreheads press together. He shakes against you with a dark chuckle, allowing you a moment to adjust until he's thrusting them in and out, stroking up until he presses into your g-spot.

You haven't been with anybody since you were last with him - you haven't been with anybody since you were first with him, however many months ago that is, now - and you're pretty sure he knows that, for as much as he's been teasing you about your date.

"You think you can walk around in this skirt, bending over pool tables, looking this pretty, and I'm just gonna sit back and watch you with another guy?"

"No," you whine, your hips bucking and your hand reaching out to clutch at his shoulder, nails digging in through his shirt until you hope they leave a mark, too. You hope there's something left behind to remind him of this tomorrow when he wants to pretend you don't exist, again.

"No, that's right," he patronises, his lips nipping at your jaw when he leans in and brushes the bridge of his nose against your temple. "'Cause you're mine, aren't you?"

You nod frantically, chasing something more from him, as if he could possibly give you anything else - your back arching until he retracts his fingers, ignoring the instant whine you give only to push three inside, your mind going blank at the pressure of it all.

"Oh my God," you throw your head back, giving him access to the front of you, your neck bare all the way down to the low cut of your top, and he takes full advantage of the space.

You can't even bring yourself to care about marks, as stupid as it is to let him touch where someone else might see - and there's a voice in the back of your head that tells you he wouldn't risk it, anyway.

Quinn doesn't want anyone talking, not about you.

He'd rather keep you some dirty secret confined to the back bathroom of a dingy bar, the front seat of his car in the middle of some random parking lot, or the privacy of your apartment on the other side of town.

But that was before Justin, who's voice carries through the thick wood of the bathroom door accompanied by a few bangs and a call out of your name - and Quinn is the first to react, his movements more vigorous and intentional.

You grab at his wrist in some weak attempt to slow him down, but he won't budge, and then you're too consumed by how good it feels to actually get him to stop.

Your jaw goes slack as Justin calls your name again, and you can't move, can't breathe, can't blink without your space being consumed by Quinn.

"Are you good? You've been in here a while, your shirt isn't ruined, right? You can cover up with my jacket if you need to!"

You press your hand to your mouth to try and conceal the moans he's eliciting from you, his pace unrelenting as your eyes go wide, and you hate how much it spurs you on to see him enjoy this.

“Tell him you’ll come in a minute,” Quinn mutters into your ear, his fingers relentless in their movements as they curl inside you, his palm firm against your clit.

“I’ll come-,” you squeak, arching into his touch as his lips press wet, hot kisses into your neck, “I’ll come out in a minute!” You call, a little steadier though still breathless. "It just needs to dry off a bit!"

“Are you sure you don’t need my help?” Justin calls through the door, and you feel the vibrations of Quinn’s groan into your skin.

“Tell him I’m helping you just fine,” his mouth moves against your jaw, the low hum of his voice carrying all the way down to the base of your spine in a persistent, dizzying vibration. He starts to shake his hand with his fingers still inside you, and the pressure inside you builds to the point you think you might burst, your thighs trembling and your hips stuttering against him. "Go on, tell him you're all taken care of,"

"Tell-," you stutter mindlessly, your only thought to repeat him, not even considering what you're repeating. "I'm-,"

Quinn chuckles darkly against your throat, his teeth nipping into the sensitive flesh - and you swear you can feel him everywhere. He's relentless, he's unforgiving, he's determined to get you to come with Justin on the other side of the door, and you're in no fit position to stop him.

"I'm fine," you call out in one last attempt, praying to whatever god is up there that he finally gets the hint and leaves.

There's no way you can be quiet about this.

"Alright, I'll get you another drink!"

"You're gonna need one, aren't you baby?" Quinn asks, his grin smug and his tone teasing as he parts from your neck, your faces level again as he juts his chin to catch your drooping gaze, the pet name doing little to rouse you from your stupor as he draws you closer to an orgasm. "Gonna make you come so hard it fuckin' drains you," he promises, "Gonna make you walk back out there and sit in a mess in your panties while you talk to him, and all you're gonna think about is this."

"Quinn," you cry out, the mind-numbing pace of his fingers rubbing into your pussy bringing tears to your eyes, and your bottom lip pops out in a pout as you try to chase him for a kiss. "Please, please, please," you beg as he evades you, keeping up the fervour with his hand. You need something to occupy your mouth so you don't scream out, and he hasn't kissed you yet - not tonight, not properly.

"You think you've been good enough for a kiss?" he taunts, his fingers curling inside you just when you're at the brink, "You think that a naughty girl who's letting me fill her pussy with her date standing just outside deserves a kiss?"

"Yes," you whine, "Quinn," and plead, and you bat your lashes in one final attempt at convincing him, your eyes watering, lips trembling, spine tingling as he considers it for a brief moment.

"Come," he commands, "And then I'll kiss you."

You groan, throwing your head back as he brings his other hand into the mix, swiping at your clit with a feverish speed until you really feel like you're about to scream, gripping onto him for dear life as his three fingers plunge all the way into you, to the bottom of his knuckles, his touch pressing against the deepest part of your core until you fall apart.

And it's a mess.

The counter becomes slippery beneath you, your thighs coated in your own slick, and the way you hear Quinn remove his fingers makes you wince more than the feeling, itself.

He's still looking down at your pussy when your vision comes to, blinking away the white spots in your eyes until all you can see is him - in a daze at the way you can feel your walls contracting still, missing the way he had them filled just seconds ago.

You think you're shaking all over, too weak to move - to lift yourself onto your legs, to even lift your arms to do anything about how bare you are to his hungry glare - and you're struggling a little to catch your breath, if you're honest.

You feel hot all over, too. In your head, on every visible surface of your skin - and you can't tell if the flush is from the physical activity or the sheer mortification of the fact you just squirted in front of him.

Your last shred of dignity probably disappeared as soon as that drink fell into your lap, there's no use in denying it now.

And just as he said, Quinn bends to retrieve your panties from where they hang from one of your ankles, bending your leg to slip it in the other side and pulling them up until you can shimmy your hips into them despite how wet you feel all over. He puts one hand down beside you on the counter once they're in place, his gaze lifting to meet yours, a little lighter but stormy, nonetheless, a million unspoken thoughts swirling behind those cloudy irises.

"You said you'd kiss me," you mumble, feebly, leaning into his touch when he pushes a strand of hair back out of your face.

"Did I?" he smirks slowly, those same eyes now tracing your lips.

You nod, your tongue swiping out against them in preparation.

He hums, teasing as he leans in, and he brings his free hand up to your mouth, hooking one of the fingers that had just been inside you against your lips until they part, pushing the digit in until it's pressed against your tongue, and you close your lips around it by instinct.

He watches as your cheeks hollow, satisfaction in his stare, and the slight upturn of his lips causes your chest to puff with pride, opening your mouth again so that he can slot the other two fingers in.

"Maybe you are a good girl," he mutters, and you nod, humming around the taste of your own release until he pulls his fingers out with a pop, using them to grasp at your chin and pulling you forward until your lips collide.

It's almost like he's trying to chase the taste of you, his tongue licking into your mouth and then he's actually sucking at yours, your hands clutching at the chest of his shirt to keep him close, letting him do whatever he wants for as long as he wants, because you're trying to get your fill.

Him using you like this seems better than the alternative - him ghosting your for days or weeks at a time, making you feel like you don't matter to him in the way he matters to you, or that he'll never feel the same way.

But there's something desperate in the way he kisses you - you think that's why he tries to deprive you of it, like you'll be able to read him through the taste on his tongue.

And you get a little greedy with his affections, probably, your hands sliding down until they meet his belt, and he pulls away before you even realise, stepping back completely so that you can't reach and running a hand through his already messy hair.

"Or maybe not."

"I just thought-,"

"You really are naughty, huh?" he chuckles, "What were you gonna do, make him wait out there all night while you tug at my cock? Get on your knees for me while your sweet little boyfriend buys you drinks and sits alone?"

"No," you pout, "He's not my boyfriend, he's just a guy from work."

"Just a guy you're using to make me jealous."

"Don't flatter yourself," you scoff, suddenly finding the nerve to stand up to him - the smirk he sends your way a touch too deep, and lasting a second too long. "I didn't even know you'd be here. Not everything is about you."

"Not what you were saying when my face was just between your legs." He shrugs as he takes another step back, and the grin you found so sexy mere minutes ago now makes you want to smack him as you watch him retreat. "I'll see you around, pretty girl, don't forget to clean up after yourself before you go back out for your date."

He winks before he leaves completely, leaving you alone in your own sticky mess, feeling dirty and used just like you always do when he disappears.

You find yourself wishing he stayed as you shuffle completely off the counter, pushing your skirt back down and grabbing some paper towels to clean the spot you were just sat on.

He'd stayed that night in your apartment, and you really thought things might change after.

But you should know by now things will never change with Quinn.

Especially when you head back out into the bar and find him speaking to Justin, shaking his hand with the exact same one he'd just used to bring you to a screeching orgasm, a crooked smirk stretching across his lips as he glances at you out of the corner of his eye before he leaves for the night.

Especially when he texts you moments after, your screen flashing with his name until you press through and read, He'll never be good enough for you.

And especially when you're answering the door of your apartment to him again a week later, falling back into the same pattern and letting him charm his way back in, no matter how shitty you feel when he disappears afterwards.

[myfanfic-urfantrash]

Asking them if they'd let you get them pregnant

Cw: pregnancy talk, death mention(its blade come on), a little suggestive

Part two is here.

Part three is here.

Part four is here.

A/N: this isn't omegaverse in the slightest it's just pure crack. I live to make them suffer :3c

-------

Neuvillette is so confused when he hears the question it makes him pause in his work. Get him pregnant? He sits there quietly trying to process everything before turning towards you his brows furrowed. Was this your way of asking to have a child together? All he knows is that based on both of your anatomy he wouldn't exactly be able to get pregnant and tells you as much.

But you ask him if your bodies could would he carry your children and he finds himself lost in thought again. It takes a few minutes before you begin to see his ears and cheeks begin to turn pink. He clears his throat turning back to his work nodding once shyly. You nod at his answer before leaving him with the cryptic words "it shall be done"...what?

Wriothesley is used to your crazy questions at this point but this one really takes the cake. He nearly spits out his tea all over his desk choking a bit and coughing at the question. His voice is hoarse as he asks why you would want to get him pregnant but you don't elaborate just asking him that if you could get him pregnant would he let you.

He stares at you with concern over your mischievous grin before giving you an uneasy and questioning "No?". He runs a hand down his face asking if this was your way of letting him know you want kids together. While he certainly wouldn't mind having some with you he'd definitely prefer if you adopted rather than whatever it is you have in mind. You simply tell him it's too late before walking down the stairs leaving him to his work as he sits there losing his mind. "Too late"?! What do you mean by "too late"?!

Wanderer looks at you in a mixture of disgust and disappointment wondering if you had hit your head on the way back from the market. He openly asks which is emptier your brain or your wallet. You brush him off handing him some of the groceries to put away clearly focused on getting his answer.

He waves a hand in the air deciding to humor your stupidity. "Sure." He rolls his eyes waving a hand in your direction. "If you can manage to find the technology good luck." He sighs. As if you could ever- "I already have it." Huh?

"Wait." He laughs in disbelief, you must be pulling his leg. "I was just joking." "I'm not." And with that you walk off to the bathroom to put away the rest of the supplies you purchased. The bag of grain slips from his hands and thumps to the floor at his feet. Huh???

Albedo just responds without looking up from his research bench that that's impossible for the both of you at the moment based on both of your anatomy. Now it's your turn to be confused just what did he mean by "at the moment"?

"It's just as I said: at the moment. I currently do not have access to some of the materials needed to make that possible so you will have to wait until I do." And he just keeps on working as if he didn't drop the biggest bomb on you ever. You were only messing with him but as you sit there thinking about it that honestly sounds really nice.

So you ask him if he'd be alright with being pregnant as he still has plenty of research to do. He answers that he might not be able to conduct experiments on Dragonspine for some time but he can always do his research at the headquarters or at home if need be.

"Although..."he pauses thinking about this a little more. He would have to limit ingesting any potions he makes and the like in order to not hurt the baby. "Hmm..." he stands up taking a large book filled to the brim with various experiments he has done and wants to do and flips through it. "This is needs a bit more thought than I imagined. I'll have to go through my notes and plan out what I can and cannot do if I were pregnant. So give me some time." You don't have it in you to tell him you were only joking.

Jing Yuan takes the question in stride believing this to be one of your typical silly questions to keep yourself entertained. He moves his star chess pieces lazily around the board as you play together. He confidently says that should you be able to beat him in the next three games he'll gladly carry all of your future children.

Now he says this just to motivate you to play a little differently perhaps so he can have a few easy wins but he's pleasantly surprised when he actually loses the next three games. He laughs at how determined you were to beat him and jokes that you must really want him to bear your children even though you both know he can't get pregnant.

"Yes you can." "Excuse me?" He blinks a little stunned by your confidence but he quickly recovers and laughs thinking you're joking. It isn't until you lift a pair of fruits he knows from a foreign planet that can alter ones anatomy he begins to click the dots together. "OH! So you were serious. Well then..."

He takes one of the fruits for himself examining the odd fruit and its pleasant mouthwatering scent. He teasingly takes a bite of the sweet fruit licking the spilled juices off his lips and chin and wrist keeping eye contact with you.

"I hope you'll take good care of your darling general."

Blade simply grunts out a "No." and begins walking away as soon as he hears the words from your lips. He's done with you for today. Of all the foolish questions to ask him. But you follow after him determined as ever to have him answer any and all of your inane questions.

He's made at least two rounds around the Stellaron Hunter base before stopping in one of the common areas that's fortunately void of anyone but you two. He finally acknowledges you as you look at him with the biggest wettest puppy eyes you can. Why is he here? Just to suffer? He pinches the bridge of his nose feeling a headache coming in that he wishes was from the Mara honestly.

He knows you won't leave him alone until you get an answer so he groans that unless it's written on Elio's script that it ain't happening. So imagine his shock when you confidently say that it is on the script pulling up your phone to show him.

Even more so when his own phone he barely uses vibrates and he opens it up to show his own piece of the script that does in fact say that you get him pregnant. He's stiff as he walks off with you following behind humming a simple happy nursery tune. Death could not come soon enough...but at least it's you.

[inlovewithfionaapple]

things i should've said sooner

warnings: angsty for a little bit

wc: 685

part two

leah stared at the blank text thread like it would fill in the answer for her.

it had been two days since she'd sent i miss you. i'm sorry. no answer. no read receipt. just silence.

it was what she deserved.

she didn't hang out after practice. she didn't joke with the others in the locker room. she went home, laid in bed, and thought about y/n. about how she used to hum under her breath when she was bored. about how she always ordered two straws with her milkshakes. about how she used to look at leah like she was more—more than a footballer, more than a headline, more than what leah sometimes felt she deserved.

and leah had lost all of that because she was scared of being seen.

no more.

she opened up her notes app and started typing, rapidly, before she could change her mind:

i've spent the last 48 hours thinking about all the things i wish i'd said to you on that rooftop. things i was too scared to admit, even to myself. that i love you. that i want you. that keeping you a secret wasn't about shame—it was about fear. but not of you. of losing everything i've built. of people turning the most real thing i've ever felt into a headline.

but now i've lost you anyway. so what was the point of being scared?

if you never want to talk to me again, i'll understand. but if there's even the tiniest part of you that wants to hear me say it to your face… meet me. please. one last time. just us.

she copied the message, opened their thread, and hit send.

then she waited.

she waited through dinner she could not eat. through a match she could not focus on. through the slow, torturous hours of uncertainty.

until finally—delivered changed to read.

her heart missed a beat. and then—three dots. she straightened up.

then came the reply.

y/n: where?

her fingers shook as she typed:

leah: the field behind your old school. the bench beneath the willow tree. tomorrow. 7 p.m.

another long pause. then:

y/n: okay.

the next evening, leah got there early. the willow tree swayed gently in the late summer breeze, and the grass was still warm from the sun. she sat down on the bench, wringing her hands, rehearsing what she'd do—how she'd beg if she needed to, how she wouldn't blame y/n if she turned and left once more.

then she saw her.

y/n. hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, sloppy bun of hair, wary but shining eyes. leah stood up before she could react.

"i didn't think you'd come," leah said.

"i almost didn't," y/n said. "but i kept hearing your voice in my head. and i wanted to hear the real thing."

leah stepped closer, her heart racing. "i meant what i wrote. i've been using football, using fear, because it's safe. but safe never made me whole. you did."

y/n swallowed hard, looking at her. "so what now, leah? you say all the right things and we go back to pretending?"

"no," leah said, her voice quick, sure. "no pretending. i want to be with you. really. totally. publicly, if you'll permit it. i'll take the headlines. i'll take the fallout. i don't care anymore. i just want you."

y/n's eyes filled. "do you mean that?"

"i do." leah's voice cracked. "but i understand if it's too late."

y/n didn't say anything for a long time. then, finally, she stepped forward and opened her arms, taking leah into the kind of hug that said: i've missed you too much to be angry forever.

"i'm scared too," y/n whispered. "but maybe we can be scared together."

leah nodded into her shoulder. "i'd rather be scared with you than brave without you."

and as the sun dipped low behind the school, stretching out long shadows across the field, they held each other like they had the time they lost—and maybe even a future they could still build.

[greeniegirl23]

"Take Care.." (Sick! Alastor x Reader)

A.K.A Alastor trying to fight being ill.

Also inspired by @degenerativeficdisease latest post. Go check out

https://www.tumblr.com/degenerativeficsdisease/782930143572377600/to-break-a-fever

---------------------------------

"Alastor for the love of fuck, go sit down!!" You yelled at him for almost the hundredth time.

"Never!!" He protested, voice ladened with stuffy sinuses and thick static while he attempted to sit upright at his mahogany desk.

Alastor was stubborn, this much you knew. On a daily basis, it was hard to change his mind about little things. Especially if he didn't agree with them for whatever reason, but you didn't know how truly headstrong he could be until today. When he woke up with a fever of 104.3, (and the only reason you knew that is because you damn there shoved the thermometer down his throat..) refusing to rest but instead, trudge through the illness like an idiot. Which is why you were yelling at him as he attempted to get dressed for the day at the pace of a drunken snail.

You've been trying to get him into bed for the past two hours, but every time he refuted you with some bullshit response. "I don't need rest darling, I survived through the Yellow Fever pandemic--!" He coughed violently. You could literally hear the gross phlegm in his lungs as he hacked like an old smoker before sniffling. "..I'll be fine."

Honestly, he didn't even know how much he believed that at the moment. In Hell, everything was worse, including illness and getting sick. He wouldn't dare tell you, but he knew that you knew that he felt like shit. Every movement was agonizing as he put on his typical attire. Muscles aching with every move, his eyes could barely stay open, he felt delirious really and had resorted to breathing through his mouth because his nostrils were clogged with mucus.

"Yes you will be," You sighed, pressing your fingers tips to your temple in frustration. "But not if you keep going at this rate. Seriously, you look terrible."

He's expression was irritated as he looked at you with puffy eyes and an exhausted face. "I haven't the slightest idea what you mean..."

"Don't be difficult Al."

"But it suits me so well!" He tried to sound upbeat and smarmy as usual until a loud microphone feed back made you jump, heavy static spiking in volume in a row of four.

"Fucking hell! What was that?!"

Alastor rolled his eyes. "Have you never heard a man sneeze before?"

"That was a sneeze?" You replied. "It sounded like mating call of something ungodly.."

His loopy eyes squinted at you. "Never say that again.."

"Only if you get into bed and rest. You cannot go around like this. Especially sneezing like that, you might mesh frequencies and blow up a radio or something."

"I'm afraid my powers don't work like that darling."

"Whatever!" You yelled, grabbing him by his arm and dragging him back towards his plush king sized bed. "I don't care if you still want to work, it can wait."

"But--"

You immediately cut him off by firmly pushing him on to the mattress. Later on when he was better, he vowed he'd get revenge on you for having the audacity to touch him, let alone push him, but at the moment he could care less. Sinking into the mattresses plushness, allowing it to cradle his aching bones from this accursed fever.

He let out a groan of pain? Relief? He had no idea as he allowed the mattress to embrace him.

While he sat there melting in the best and worst way possible, you went over to his dresser and pulled out some of his pajamas, throwing them next to him you told his shadows to help him change while you were going to go downstairs and get some essentials.

As soon as you made it to the lobby. You made sure to inform Charlie that Alastor wasn't doing well today and that whatever work he had to do would be late.

Of course she agreed and told you to take as much time as he needed. After that you went into the kitchen and got started on some soup. You know he was a stinker for flavors and food made from scratch, so you did it the long way and managed to make some very tasty venison, rice, and vegetable soup. With just a bit of Southern kick, it would help with his congestion.

A quick look into the pantry and you got some other things too. A pitcher of ice water, some cold meds, a few of his favorite snacks like coffee pecans and minty-lemon candies he'd gotten from one of Rosie's tea parties last week.

Together with the help of his shadows, you brought the things back to his room only to find him sprawled on the bed like a starfish.

He had moved all his blankets to the foot of the bed, despising them because of the chills that wracked his body. The sheets and his pajamas were already a sweaty mess as he breathed heavily with his night shirt unbuttoned. If it wasn't for the fact that he was such a pain, you might have thought of this moment as cute or even hot.

But no, now wasn't the time for that.

Immediately you moved him aside to set up his pillows behind him, propping him up so you could feed him something before the meds. Foggy with fever, you heard him mumble "No maman.." the exhaustion evident in his voice. "Can't stay home..Gotta be at the station before one."

"Oh Alastor.." You hummed. Pressing a hand on his cheek, hoping that he'd snap into reality. It always made you sad to realize that deep down he was just a boy that made mistakes and missed his mother. The only person who could ever get through to him, who he ever truly loved, and would never see again.

Part of you wondered just how long had Alastor been a showman. Not just as a career or even a hobby, but as a way of life. He was a showman to the hotel, to Charlie, to his friends, hell, even to you sometimes. But you couldn't help but think if he was always a performer, even as a child. Did he put on air for his Mother? Was she the only one who ever knew who he really was?

These questions plagued your mind as you placed a cold rag on his head. He moaned at the relief, had you been in a cartoon, you were pretty sure you'd see steam coming off of his person as he drifted in and out of consciousness.

"Alastor? Alastor wake up." you called for him, shaking his shoulder. As much as you hated to wake, he needed to eat. Almost irritatedly, he blinked his eyes open. "..Darling.?"

"Yeah it's just me." You smiled, genuinely. "Come on and sit up, I made some food for you."

Taking a deep breath as if to prepare himself. Alastor used what little strength he had to prop himself up against the pillows more comfortably. Holding the bowl of soup in your hand, you scooped up a bit with the spoon to feed him. But much to your surprise--really, why are you surprised at him by this point-- Alastor instead took the bowl out of your hands and proceeded to drink from it as if it were a cup. He didn't stop to chew the chunks of meat or veggies, he didn't stop to blow it because it was still hot. Nothing. He quite literally just took it and swallowed it all. Leaving nothing behind except for a few grains of rice in the porcelain.

You blinked once. Twice. Then thrice.

"Alastor why did you?-"

He held up his hand somewhat limply, sniffling. "It's bad enough I have this damn fever and unforsaken chills, but I die twice before I allow you to feed me as if I were a helpless child. Besides, I am rather tired."

Something about what he said sent a stab in your heart. While you kinda understand him wanting to go back to sleep, the thought of him still putting a distance between you and his vulnerability still stung.

Instead of making a big deal out of it. You just placed the bowl back onto the serving tray and poured him a glass of cold water and giving him the meds. "Here, drink this and take these. It should help you feel better soon.."

Same as the soup, Alastor seemed to take the water happily, swallowing both it and the meds in one go. Before scooting back down into bed, still panting but not as much as before. Finally closing his eyes to go back to sleep.

"I'll take this stuff downstairs and leave you be for now." You stated, loud enough for him to hear and give you an ear twitch in response.

His expression was soft as he drifted off, seemingly cozy as he possibly could be in this state. With one arm draped over his stomach while the other laid in the open space of the bed.

Wondering if he knew that he had somewhat hurt your feelings, you had only taken about five steps away from him before a group of shadows had taken away the used dishes, while Alastor's doppelganger snatched you up and placed you right beside him on the bed.

You swore you heard a sleepy chuckle when you shrieked from getting plucked off the floor like a chicken feather, but when you were dropped by his side, you were surprised on how naturally he clung to you.

One leg draped over your body, his arms around your waist, while his head rested snugly on your bosom. There was nothing sexual about this, even calling this intimacy was a stretch, but you couldn't help but allow your heart to beat just a little faster. Swelling with love and adoration for him, something you always had that you thought he never noticed.

"Um Al?"

"Mmn..." Is the sound be made as he nuzzled into you more. Completely at home where he laid.

"I have to--"

"Stay." He mumbled. "You stay.."

You huffed. This asshole knew you couldn't say no to him, not while he was like this or even ever. So like a lady with a pet cat, you accepted your fate and stayed where you were. Allowing Alastor to finally fall completely asleep, with you following behind not too long after. Sleeping soundly in his bed, limbs tangled and hair messy, but it was okay.

Because you both felt right at home.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 184 (Making Time For Friends)

Before the end of his first weekend back home, Ash was playing fetch in the yard with Gord when two of his classmates at Brindleton Bay School came to visit. Scotti Holiday and Arun Kalani arrived in the afternoon, greeting their friend with warm hugs.

"Our parents said you were home and we had to see it for ourselves," announced Scotti, the eldest daughter of Travis Scott and Summer Holiday. "You don't look more like a Landgraab after a year in the city."

"Uh thanks...I think?"

"Same old Ash Landgraab," she mused. "It's good to see you again, Ashy."

"My Aunt Hazel doesn't even call me Ashy anymore," he said.

"Speaking of name changes, did you hear this guy changed the spelling of his own name? Now he's A-r-u-n, but before you left he was A-r-r-o-n. Who does that?!"

Arun, the eldest son of Zoe Patel and Mitchell Kalani, scowled. "My mom said when I was born she felt like she needed to make the name on my birth certificate sound more Brindletonian, but she spelled Aaron wrong, too! My name is the one she wanted me to have in the first place, Scotti."

Scotti Holiday was still a mean girl, especially as she inched closer to teenhood, but Arun Kalani wasn't exactly a great influence, either. As soon as he walked inside to use the bathroom, Conrad caught the little klepto trying to steal some artwork off the family's wall.

"Arun Kalani, the precinct isn't going to need to keep an eye on you, will they?"

Arun grimaced, foiled in the thrill of the steal. "No, Captain Gordon. I'm sorry."

Lavender kept to herself while Ash hung out with his friends, doing yoga in the backyard until Gord interrupted her for a hug. (Backed up on laundry don't mind the mess!)

Gord knew Lavender disliked large groups, and even though the friendly dog loved scritches from any stranger willing to give them, some of his favourites came from the girl he'd loved and protected from the day she was born.

Lavender loved all the pets. Even Queen Cupcake, the most aloof of the bunch loved Lavender's attention, and she was often content to spend her time after homework and violin practice hanging out with her four-legged friends.

But she also made time for her closest human friend, Barrett Hecking, who came by to hang out after school sometimes. Even when it rained, Lavender convinced him to cloudgaze in the mud.

"The rain keeps hitting our faces," he complained, but he followed her lead as she told a story about the skies leaking water to keep all the strays happy.

"Do you think the water knows when it has to fall?" Barrett wondered.

Lavender thought about it, pursing her lips into a curious grin. "I think so," she agreed.

It was still raining when they went inside, and Barrett didn't want to put away his umbrella. "Is your roof leaking?"

"That's not the roof. My baby brother's room is upstairs."

"So then why is it raining?"

"It's not raining that hard in here. You probably don't need your umbrella."

"I just put the blue streaks in. They'll wash out!"

"It's cool your dads let you put dye in your hair. My parents say I'm too young."

"We're the same age."

Lavender shrugged from the kitchen table. "That's what they said."

And the kids weren't the only ones making time for friends; Heather was at home with Emi Kudo when her sister Hazel popped by unannounced.

"Sorry it's been too long since I've been around. The cafe's really busy and so is getting everything ready for Alex's mayoral campaign."

"Has anyone declared to run against him yet?"

Hazel nodded. "That's why I'm here. J Huntington, who runs Bay Landgraab Security, filed papers the other day. We need volunteers to canvas and door knock to make sure J and his heavies at the security company don't intimidate people who plan to vote for Alex Goth."

"I'll help however I can. J's guys can't intimidate the whole town, can they?"

"We hope they can't."

Hazel glanced at Emi, whom she'd never met before, and Heather remembered to introduce them. "Emi used to be a vet tech here in Brindleton Bay, but she moved to Evergreen Harbour before I bought the clinic. Her husband did the recent remodel! She's out for her dog's annual checkup and to thank me and Holly for suggesting her son audition for the San My Ballet Company."

Hazel offered a friendly smile as the women moved to the sofa. "Wow, that's amazing. Congratulations!"

Emi nodded proudly. "Thank you. He moves to the city in a few weeks and he'll be staying Uptown with a family who has two girls at the ballet school - Johnny and Eva Zest. We met them over a teleconference before I flew out, and both Charlie and his twin brother, Oliver, said they recognized him from a few comedy roasts on Simflix."

"We know Johnny and Eva," said Heather. "He's my son's great-uncle on his father's side. They're great people with great kids. Charlie will be in good hands in the city."

"Johnny's a funny guy," Hazel agreed warmly. "I wonder if Charlie will dance with Ash's friend Pearl."

Heather nodded. "I don't know anything about ballet, but I know Pearl has a pending offer of admission to the company when she turns thirteen. I know how headstrong her mother is, so I don't doubt Pearl in the slightest. What a small world it would be if Charlie and Pearl ended up dancing Swan Lake together someday."

"Layne and I don't want Charlie to feel any more pressure than the pressure he already puts on himself. But we know he's in the best place to build toward his dream, and we can't wait to see what he does with the opportunity."

Heather and her family made all the time in the world for each other, but made time to nurture their friendships, too. As spring slowly creeped toward summer, the Gordons' lives were blissfully full. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

NOTE: I was feeling like I had missed an opportunity to change the spelling of Arron Kalani's name to Arun when he was a baby because his his mother is Zoe Patel (and Arron always irritated me with the two r's, anyway, I know BS reason), but @matchalovertrait gave me the idea of him embracing his name's original spelling now that he's almost a teenager himself. I loved the idea so Arron is, from here on out, officially Arun Kalani!

[satorupi]

❦ pairing! ⭑ collegestudent!satoru x collegestudent!reader

❦ sum! ⭑ satoru just hates seeing his hardworking gf stressed to the point of tears because she can't wrap her head around something she's working on. he tries to leave you be for long enough but makes everything better when it looks like it gets to being too much ˙⋆✮

❦ cw! ⭑ sexual themes, established relationship, f!receiving oral/cunnilingus, fingering, stress themes (?), foul language (mild), might count as comfort sex so i'll list it too, eatergojeatergojoeatergojo!!

next in queue! ⭑ exhusband!nanami x wife!reader

it’s just a little past 10 pm and you’ve been hunched at your desk for god knows how long. birds have long resigned for the day, the street lamps cast long shadows on the pavement outside. that and your own lamp are your only source of light save for that emanating from your screen in a steady stream of blue. the prolonged blue light exposure is sure to give you eye sensitivity with how long you’ve been staring, fixed on the same jumble of words for the past 10 minutes.

your mind feels all fogged up and your brain feels like it’s just taking up space in your head being useless. the headache building has actual claws, pulsing behind your eyelids as a heavy, weighted throb.

you might actually freak out if you keep sitting here but what other option do you have?

this shit is due next week, you’d let your anxiety and procrastination win this time and look at where you are now. the clock ticks louder with every second you waste not getting it. you can feel the burn of tears hot behind your eyelids—annoying, stupid tears. other people got this just fine, and here you were about to cry over it. you don’t realize you’ve been biting the inside of your cheek till you taste that slight metallic tang, blinking rapidly to get your thoughts in order.

he notices all of this, of course. had been trying to keep from saying anything, knowing how dire it was for you to get a bit of this done. but you look like you’re a moment away from tears, and what kind of boyfriend would he be leaving his darling girl to suffer?

“alright, now,” the bed springs creak with his shifting as his weight eases off, crossing over cool hardwood to get to you, hands smoothing over your hair from behind. “been at it for hours.”

you close your eyes and breathe out a slow breath, willing the rise of irritation down. not at him, of course – but you can’t help but feel all volatile right now when your frustration level is already this high. you’d kept a calm head, you hadn't cried. you’re sure all his niceties and placation would undo you.

you shake your head. a warning. a please don’t, even if little part of you wants him to.

“baby. come take a break.”

“god, satoru. can you not?” the words are like the crack of a whip, sharper than you’d hoped for them to come out. the halt of his hands running over your hair has the growing ache of guilt in your chest settling deeper, punching through your ribs. “i just..” your head tips to look up at him, glad for the angle that staved the building flow on your waterline even if momentary. his brows are furrowed a little, head tipped, eyes so filled with tenderness and concern that it makes your skin prickle.

“i didn’t mean it like that,” you mutter, softer this time. “the assignment just..” you cut yourself off, breathing slowly. “i’m not mad at you, it’s the assignment. ‘m sorry.”

he'd showed up to keep you company through the grueling hours, been the absolute sweetest checking up and you and you’d snapped at him for no reason at all. your whine is low in your throat, sniffling gently as his fingers begin to circle your temples. “i feel so stupid. i’ve been sitting her for ages, you saw—” your voice hiccups a little, nose scrunching to fight the tingling, “and nothing’s even sticking. then i’m mean to you f’no reason.”

satoru hums, hands slipping away from you just to brace on either armrest at the side of you, spinning the chair so that you’re facing him so he can actually see you. “not mean. just a little overwhelmed, princess.”

he coaxes you up into his hold easily with a slight dip to your height in the chair and a tap to your hip, “come on up.” it’s an easy shift out the seat, arms banding around the back of his neck, legs around his hips to cling like a koala like you always should be – where you feel safest.

a whimper muffles against his neck as his hands sweep up and down your back over the soft cotton of the shirt you’d stolen borrowed, kissing the side of your head as he rocks you in his hold.

“you’re taking a break with me.” leaves out the whether you like it or not. “you’ll catch up, baby. i’ll help you catch up after you take a break.” never mind the fact that you’re in different majors -- you don’t question him though, just nodding against his neck. maybe a nap with him is all you need to feel better.

you end up in bed of course, but there’s not much napping going on. soft kisses and massaging your temples turned to hushed reassurances and the gentle coaxing of your body to the sheets as he swore that he’d make you feel better.

satoru didn’t need a bio degree to know that orgasms were good for stress.

tee high over the softness of your abdomen, thighs parted -- satoru’s on you like fire to kindling.

his teeth skim over the softness of thighs he’d gotten between, settling your legs over his shoulders at a better angle. all the teasing had done was work you up a little more, pulling mewls and slightly irritated calls of his name as he continues to deny you. all he does is grin, biting down on the same spot again before kissing it better. “jeez, have some patience.”

and when he does give you what you want? yeah, he’s intentional with everything he does – including this. his mouth is everywhere--slow, deliberate, like he's trying to replace every unkind thought you had about yourself with the sweet, grounding drag of his tongue over the soppy fabric. you’re already high strung from all the teasing, hips jolting upward just to be leveled by the gentle but firm press of his hands, lips smacking a kiss over your clothed ones just to make you squirm. “toruu..” you sigh, all high and reedy, brows creasing. “quit teasing. i thought you wanted to help me.”

he makes a sound against you that sounds something like agreement, licking through the panties till the cloth feels a wetter with your arousal and his saliva, need reaching it’s peak. you’re near ready to bed again, really. “i am helping. see?” his lips pucker to blow cool air over where you’re hottest for him, needy clit throbbing at all the attention as your breath hitches. you’d so get him back for all this, but for now all you can do is moan softly, hand lowering to thread your fingers through his hair. he wouldn’t deny you too long of course, never could.

he pulls the fabric aside with a tug, first sweep of his tongue against your bare cunt slow and devastating. you gasp, fingers tightening in his hair, and he groans into you like he’s the one being touched instead. his tongue flattens and drags and long stripe from your entrance to the needy bud tucked at the apex of your folds, lips suction there till you’re curling your toes from how good it feels. you tug on his hair to get him a little closer, thighs spread around his head, hips lifting in little bucks to feel more of his tongue greedily. a light smack to your inner thigh has you yelping softly, hips falling back to the sheets with just that.

“i have such..” satoru pulls away from you with one last slurp to gather your honeyed slick on his tastebuds, shifting a little so he can get his hands back down to your inner thighs, “an impatient girlfriend. so very impatient.” shiny gossamers of slick and spit connect your cunt on his mouth and he just grins, tongue dragging over the softness of his damp lips to snap them.

his thumbs swipe near the side of your folds, parting the slick swollen pair to expose more of you to his sight. his staring is unabashed, half dopey pussy drunk smile already spreading, head dipping to drag his tongue through the exposed pink. he loves it when you’re spread like this, when he can see every little flutter, how you clench around nothing. “missing my tongue already. just greedy.”

his eyes follow the rush slick that leaves you just from that, and you swear his pupils dilate a little more. satoru runs his tongue along his inner cheek and you don’t have much time to react before he’s spitting directly onto your folds with a soft, throaty sound of pleasure, watching it drip and mix with the rest of your slick in a sticky mess.

“so wet for me..” he mutters, voice almost reverent as he watches the way your cunt clenches around nothing in the dimly lit space. then he’s back on you, mouth messy and ravenous, tongue tracing circles over your entrance, then pushing in, curling and stroking as though he’s trying to memorize the feel of your insides. his nose nudges your clit, his thumbs stroke the edges of your lips as he feasts on you.

“d-don’t stop—hnng, toru--” you whimper, fingers threading tighter in his hair, hips grinding without any rhythm at all. satoru’s clear hum of pleasure reverberates through you, hands pulling off you – one finding place on the upper curve of your ass, the other moving a shorter distance up to your clit. familiar tips of his middle and ring finger circle your bud momentarily just till he’s pulling his mouth back again to free up your core, both sliding lower till they’re prodding your wet entrance. your pussy welcomes the intrusion almost eagerly and you keen loudly into the cool air, thighs shaking, calling out his name. “oh fuck,” he huffs, tongue dragging a slick path up your slit before latching onto your clit again, sucking with obscene wet pressure. “listen to her,” he pants, voice thick with arousal, “she’s so noisy for me, baby.”

lips wrapped around your clit and lengthy fingers inside you to the knuckle, you’re not sure you know a better combo. the sound of his fingers pumping in and out of you is downright nasty, sappy wet sloshes as he intrudes and pulls back out over and over again mixing with your breathy moans in the air. you’re not quite sure what you’d be upset before about this now really.

his lips suction around your clit again while his fingers scissor you open, sweet spot giving to the press of his fingers. he massages and curls his fingers into the spot relentlessly, solely breathing through his nose as he works you now. no time for pulling back when he needed to make his sweetheart cum, right? the twitch and growing weight in his boxers doesn’t go unnoticed, subtly humping into the sheets this whole time – this was about you, his boner is really the least of his concerns.

“g’nna make you cum..” he sings in a low voice, fingers fucking into you a little faster, tongue moving over your clit in fat wet swipes. the slick slosh of your juices floods his palm, heel practically humping the underside of your bud. “mm, you wanna cum right? wanna make a mess on my face?” his jaw and wrist is a mess with you, the sheets are surely a little soaked and he isn’t letting up for anything.

“uh huh. i wanna cum..i wanna- oohmygodddsatoru!—fuck!“ the tension that’s been hot and heavy curling in your gut finally snaps, tug his hair hard enough that you’re sure some strands pulled free (oops). your thighs shudder around his head through every bit of it of your orgasm expression twisted in the prettiest way, feeling his eyes on your face, mouth angled to let you finish right in his mouth. his own sounds are throaty, not so subtle humping getting jerky as hot ropes shoot against the front of his briefs unbeknownst to you. each pulse is sharper than the last, squeezing his fingers until he groans against your cunt, the vibration sending another shudder racing through you. he licks at you tenderly through all the pleasure, only amplifying your high, free hand keeping your thighs open when you’d tried to close them to run away from him.

when his fingers finally leave your spent heat and his tongue isn’t on your body, he's breathing as heavily as you are down where’s his cheek is smushed on your thigh. languidly licking at his fingers to savor your taste a little longer.

jaw wet, eyes glazed over. dopey ass grin spready on his pretty mouth. “not thinking about that paper now, are you?” god you love hate him.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. 　

cool baby wipes to the heat between your thighs and around his mouth has you two clean enough and cuddling for a good couple minutes after the orgasm he’d gotten out of you. quick change of his briefs too.

“10 minutes then we get back to work, hm? i’ll try to research and summarize.” even if the terms would probably have his mind all jumbled. didn’t matter though. “we’ll get some ice cream.”

you hum, shifting to nuzzle closer, thigh slipping between his two to get tangled up with him just a little more. he’s warm and he smells as good as he usually does – you can’t help it.

and if the ice cream wasn’t enough incentive for you?

“i’ll give you something better than my fingers if you get at least two more pages done.”

note: switched to all lowercase bc shift f3 wasn't being consistent </3

[cheollollipop]

4:27 A.M. | lee haechan

genre: fluff.

wc: 704

author’s note!

i keep having dreams about haechan. totally normal! anyways, please enjoy.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

The kitchen is cold, but not unbearable. Just enough to make me wish I'd grabbed socks. I pull my hoodie sleeves down over my hands and stare into the open fridge like something life-changing is going to appear between the orange juice and leftover tteokbokki.

It's exactly 4:27 a.m. I know because the microwave keeps flashing it at me like it's daring me to explain myself. I settle for a slice of cold watermelon and a fork when I hear soft footsteps behind me.

"Watermelon?" Haechan's voice is rough with sleep, deeper than usual.

I turn, caught mid-bite. "You caught me."

He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes squinting under messy bangs. "You always come down here like a fridge ghost at ungodly hours?"

"Only when I can't sleep." I jab the fork into the fruit and gesture vaguely. "Didn't want to wake you."

He walks over anyway, dragging a chair out with a lazy scrape before dropping into it. "You didn't. I rolled over and the bed was cold. That woke me up."

Something about the way he says it makes me pause. Not accusatory, just stating a fact, like "your absence was noticeable".

I pass him the plate wordlessly. He digs his fork in and takes a bite, chewing slowly before nodding like it's the most profound thing he's ever tasted.

"So," he says eventually, mouth half-full, "what are we thinking about at this hour? The void? Aliens? The meaning of love?"

I laugh, soft and tired. "Actually... yeah. Kind of the last one."

He raises an eyebrow. "Love?"

I shrug. "I don't know. It just hit me, you know? How weird it is. How... quiet it can be."

He watches me, chewing slower now. "Go on."

"I used to think love was supposed to be big and loud. Fireworks. Running through airports. Speeches in the rain." I twirl the fork in my fingers. "But lately it just feels like... this."

He tilts his head, eyes narrowing a little. "Like... watermelon at 4 a.m.?"

I nod. "Exactly. It's not the stuff you see in movies. It's small things. Like someone sitting with you in a kitchen when the world's asleep. It's sharing fruit even though we're both half-conscious. It's..." I trail off.

"...missing the warmth on the other side of the bed," he finishes, voice quieter now.

"Yeah."

He doesn't say anything for a moment. Just forks another bite and chews slowly before setting it down, looking at me like I'm a puzzle he doesn't mind taking his time with.

"I don't think love's supposed to be one thing," he says finally. "But I think when you stop searching for fireworks and start noticing the way someone remembers how you like your rice or lets you play your sad playlists without judgment... that's when you know."

My throat tightens.

"I think I keep waiting for something to go wrong," I admit quietly. "Like this is too good. Like I'll blink and you'll be gone and I'll realize I imagined all of it."

He's quiet, and then he gets up. Slow, sleepy, and walks the few steps around the table to stand in front of me. His fingers gently lift my chin until I'm looking up at him.

"You didn't imagine this," he says, steady and sure, even with sleep clinging to his voice. "I'm here. I'm real. This—" he gestures vaguely between us, "—is real. And I'm not going anywhere."

I try to blink away the sting in my eyes. "But what if it changes?"

"Then it changes," he says. "But I'll still be here. We'll figure it out. You don't have to be scared of something just because it's good."

He reaches down and slides his hand over mine, fingers curling between mine without needing to be asked. "I don't need big," he adds. "I just need you. Even if it's half-asleep and slightly unhinged in front of a fridge."

I smile, leaning forward to rest my head against his arm. "Love is weird," I mumble.

He presses a kiss to the top of my head. "Yeah. But so are we. So it works."

And just like that, I don't feel so restless anymore.

[palamedesnutz]

[beargregor]

Chef greg delivery just for you. it's a wonder I hadn't bearified him yet, he's my fave greg too 🔪

gays literally only want one thing (to be chopped up and eaten by a depressed man) and it's fucking disgusting

[todayisafridaynight]

So Allegedly Infinite Wealth is 100 hours... not that you can't already spend that long on the games if you really want to, but I'd say it's the first time that could be said to be the base experience rather than a time only hardcore completionists are likely to get.

Yokoyama was talking at length about wanting to make the game worth the price tag since the team is incredibly conscious about the value of the players' time and money. They essentially feel they owe players ten times what they paid, so they're aiming for "an enjoyable 100 hours, but also an unforgettable 100 hours."

If they pull it off, I personally think it'd be 100% worth it and not just a "well other studios are doing it so we can get away with it too" price hike... I'm at least happy to know that's not the intent, and I'm intrigued to see how everything pans out and what the ratio is between story and side content

oh yayaya i saw that article this morning!!! 100 hours is actually so unfathomable to me in terms of an rgg game- i mean y7 was At Minimum around 45~50 hours but when i think of other RPGS that easily dip into 70's and 100's of hours, i'm not too surprised to see LAD start to climb towards those numbers now. it'd be such a jump in rgg's terms tho, so i'm TRULY curious to see where the nearly doubled gameplay hours comes from..

i really appreciate yoko's respect not just to RGGS but also to its customers: they want to make a great product, but they also don't want to sacrifice what they want to do to do that in the process

[weirdo-with-a-nametag]

If you're my friend... I think about you a lot.

[goldentigerfestival]

Forgot to post this earlier but I did in fact comb the entire Vesperia script to determine how many times he uses ま/まあ throughout the game, along with a few other phrases he uses repeatedly. This counts all of main story, every single sidequest, and every single skit in the game.

Final counts were:

ま/まあ: 280

Ma/Maa; translates to "well". He uses this at the beginning of a sentence usually, but it's sometimes in the middle. "Ma" is usually more quick and snappy. "Maa" is more thoughtful and/or prolonged. Obviously it can vary based on context, but that's the general breakdown.

んじゃ and any variants: 133

Nja, along with variants such as "ja", "soreja", etc. Variants are counted when they're all used to express "let's get going", when they're about to head off ("ja" could be used in a sentence such as "ja/but then, why is xyz like this", etc). They encompass translations such as "well then" (let's get going implied. includes "so then", "then" "alright then", and so on), "we should be off", "let's get going", "let's go", etc. (not to be confused with 行こう(ikou), 行くぜ, (ikuze), and other similar versions of this phrase. That can also mean "let's go", but any instances of Yuri using that particular phrase was not counted because it wasn't a variant of, specifically, んじゃ, which is also his most common "let's go" ja variant).

おい / おいおい: 66

Oi/Oi oi; translates to "hey"/"hey, hey", though "oi" is more or less an accepted word in English nowadays.

おっと: 12

Otto (not to be confused with "oto", referring to sound); an expression of surprise that can translate roughly to "whoa there" (which is the most common translation I do see for it and what I'd use in most cases too, context of course varying). The reason I included this one despite it being so seemingly low in number is because it's not a particularly common expression, much less one used multiple times by a single character? It's so rare from anyone else, which is just a regular thing relative to Yuri and his dialogue/speech (i.e. most characters sparingly use phrases repeatedly, as compared to Yuri... as you can see lol. Other characters use these words/phrases, but nowhere near as regularly, if regularly at all).

Realized along the way I should've included やれやれ (yare yare, "good grief", "oh dear", "oh boy" etc), but by the time I realized I should have in case it was an interesting count, I was too far into the script to be able to handle going all the way back through it LOL.

No. No, I am not joking that Yuri used ま/まあ 280 times throughout the course of the game. That is to say, it could be more if I missed any, but on the assumption I didn't, that's where it stands.

Why do I love this so much? Because it's a very specific character quirk of a character I adore. I'm very fond of his repetition. Thank you.

[linagram]

[ meet the prisoners! (t2 edition) ] prisoner 003: ishizu shun

.. that moment when shun was supposed to be voted innocent even in canon too, so i knew that he will turn out like this, but i'm still disappointed in him. oh well, at least he gets a cool t2 design.

(Warnings: Shun's relationship with Kei became more toxic and it's also mentioned that the way he acts now makes female prisoners uncomfortable, mostly because of him thinking that he's allowed to do anything now since he was forgiven)

General info.

T1 Verdict: Shun was voted innocent and now he is sure acting a lot more confident because of that. Shun was so happy to hear that the guards have forgiven him, that must mean his crime really wasn't a crime at all, right? Oh, he has two more trials to go through.. Oh well, he still believes that he will be forgiven this time too. Shun already knew that he was in the right and now that he was forgiven, he won't just let the guards change their mind so easily this time. Why would they even change their mind actually? He did nothing wrong. He knows that. Thanks to his verdict, he got a new outfit, a different hairstyle and a lot more freedom than he had before the second trial.

T2 Personality: Shun is so thankful to the guards for understanding him. He just wanted to save the person he loved, of course, he would be voted innocent! He's acting like a completely different person now, he's more talkative, he smiles more often and he doesn't find this place that scary anymore. However, it's not really a good thing, because Shun has also started to ignore other prisoners' personal space and now they find him even more creepy and annoying. According to Asahi, now Shun never shuts up and he is constantly trying to make people pay attention to him (even more than Riku). Also, even though he was uncomfortable with Eiko's flirting and told her he's taken (despite his ex leaving him), now he's more than okay with her acting that way and even gets sad if she doesn't "give him enough love". His comments about other women in Milgram are also weird and they just try to avoid him and for a good reason. There's also another person who can understand their pain and that's Kei, because Shun's relationship with him is so, so much worse now. And for some unknown reason, Shun's memory is much better now. He almost never forgets anything anymore, he remembers names and dates perfectly well.. The way he talks is also a bit different now, he sounds more confident and people almost never hear him stutter anymore. However, if there's even a slight chance of him not being forgiven this time.. yeah, he will start acting just like his past self or even worse. 

T2 Relationship dynamics:

Oh, how the tables have turned. Now Kei is the one who's uncomfortable with the way Shun is acting, but it's impossible for him to avoid or ignore him, since Shun and Eiko are the ones who help Kei leave his cell and he has to depend on them all the time (unless Reina has the time to help him). Shun claims that now he's simply acting the same way Kei did before being voted guilty, so what's wrong with that? Shun constantly tries to make Kei pay attention to him and gets upset if Kei's reaction isn't as emotional or interesting as Shun expected. Kei is forced to act like his T1 self around him even if he obviously has no energy for that, but Shun doesn't really care about his feelings. Shun doesn't see him as a person and just sees him as someone who can make him feel good about himself and that's it. Shun knows well that Kei felt the same way before T2, so.. yeah, he thinks none of this is his fault.

Shun and Eiko get along so well now! Good for them! I am so scared. They're basically acting like a couple now. A couple of besties? A couple of lovers? Eh, maybe both. They both help Kei when he's not feeling good and they make sure he gets to leave his cell as often as he can, he can't just sit there all day! They just care about him so much! Eiko was actually surprised to see Shun change so suddenly, but she also thinks he's always been this way, it's just that the guards finally gave him a chance to show his true self. She doesn't mind though, she likes that side of his too.. probably. That's what Shun likes to hear, at least.

Yurika hates him. That's it. Okay, okay, fine, Yurika hates him not only because she's tired of him awkwardly trying to flirt with her and also him being into animanga and games and her being forced to act as a maid is basically a nightmare to her, but also.. why was he forgiven and she was voted guilty? Her crime is actually more understandable than his, she killed her stalkers because she was tired of feeling in danger all the time because of them! She doesn't know much about his crime, but seriously? Him "killing someone to save the person he loved"? Don't make her laugh, this guy is delusional. Fine, she'll play by this prison's rules, but only if this guy gets voted guilty this time too.

Music info. 

Milgram cover: I Love You. YOU DON'T KNOW HOW MUCH FUN I'VE HAD WHEN I REALIZED THAT THIS SONG FITS HIM SO WELL. Like, obviously, the lyrics, but also the theme of giving someone so much love even if it's not the kind of love they need, denying how bad your situation actually is, thinking everything is okay AND ALSO THE CAKE. THE CAKE. AND LIKE IT BEING A METAPHOR AND AND- NO LISTEN I CAN RAMBLE ABOUT THIS FOREVER so anyway yeah he gets ily as his cover (also it's so fun to imagine him doing the rapping part like i actually think it would sound good??)

DECO*27 Cover: THIS BAD BOY CAN GET SO MANY DECO*27 SONGS AS HIS COVERS. It was actually so hard to choose a song for him, like there's so many Deco's songs that fit him, but I went with Cinderella, since I think it has his vibes and it also has that "Innocent!Shun" energy I was looking for. Also, ironically, I've almost went with a completely different song until I decided to give him Cinderella and Kei got the song that I originally wanted to use for Shun.

Different Vocaloid producer cover: Oh well. Oh well, I've already mentioned this before, so I don't think we have to wait until T3. He gets Tailor Shop on Enbizaka by mothy/Akuno-P. Oh boy, I sure hope it doesn't reveal anything about his crime, haha.. It does. His whole crime was heavily inspired by that song

His T2 Trailer Voicelines:

"Ah, hello there! Hehe, I'm so happy to see you two~.. Hm? Yes, I know I saw you yesterday, but.. I'm just so grateful.. You really did forgive me.. Ehehe, don't worry, I'll show you how pure my love was this time too~ Eh? My love for.. Who?.. D-does it really matter?"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW ME??"

His T2 Song Trailer Voiceline:

"Who cares about her anyway?"

Trivia:

Yes, he actually thinks he will be voted innocent this time. And the third time too. But who knows, maybe he's right.

His second image color was chosen because of his hair color, not counting the highlights.

Eiko was the one who cut his hair to make it easier for him to see.. well, everything around him. He's most likely agreed to that only because it was Eiko who suggested it and he just wanted to spend more time with her. 

When the guards have asked him what kind of new outfit he wants to get, he said that he wants to get something that Kei would wear.

Funnily enough, both him and Aimi now have MVs that share themes with the Canongram prisoners with the same numbers as them: Aimi gets a cute-looking MV with balloons and Shun gets a MV with an obvious video game theme going on.