#oh also i want to get more art for my apartment

[fuctacles]

<<😺😺😺😺😺😺😺

"Yes? Hello, officer? There's a man in my apartment." 

Eddie stirs awake, his surroundings coming back to him in hazy waves.

"What?" he slurs out, blinking to clear his vision.

"Oh, I was just telling the officer that I've found a man sleeping on my couch," Stephanie says with a troubled expression, hovering over him.

Over the couch that he fell asleep on.

He sits up so suddenly he loses his balance and falls back against the cushion.

"I'm so sorry, please don't call the cops—!"

Stephanie immediately shakes her hands, which are free of a phone.

"I was joking, I was joking!" she reassures him quickly. "I'm sorry." She smiles apologetically, taking a seat next to him. "I guess that wasn't the best way to wake up someone." 

"No," Eddie chuckles awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Especially not an ex-drug dealer," he huffs dryly. 

Steph cocks her head with a surprised "huh" and only then does Eddie realize what he has just blurted out. 

"Ah, shit. Am I ruining my good neighbor status?" he winces.

"Not at all," Steph shakes her head, and gently pats his knee. He zeroes his focus on her hand when she decides to rest it there on his jean-clad leg. 

"I know my nice neighbor Eddie, not the drug dealer one," she smiles reassuringly. "What made you turn around? If you don't mind me asking," she squeezes his knee and retrieves her hand to lean back more comfortably on the couch. One of her cats, Garfield, jumps on her lap for a greeting, and Eddie realizes she's still wearing her jacket. He looks at the clock on the wall and realizes it's almost midnight. 

"Sorry, I'm holding you back, you're clearly tired," she backtracks quickly, watching his eyes dart around. But Eddie shakes his head.

"Nah, I just took an invigorating nap." She laughs at that and he can't help but smile as well. "I'd assume you're tired after traveling."

"I took an invigorating nap on the bus," she smiles, petting her cat. Arwen finally decides she's not above greeting her human and jumps in next to her as well, occupying Stephanie's other hand. 

Eddie reminds himself not to get jealous of felines.

"I managed to graduate," he says and when Steph looks at him in confusion, he adds: "I dealt in high school to save money for my band, thought that was my only route. But then I did graduate, on my third try, and the art teacher pulled some strings, asked around, and told me I could go study music. The guys forced me to go for it," he smiles at the memory. "My band, I mean. They said at least one of us should know some theory," he chuckles. 

"That's very nice of them," Stephanie comments. 

"Yeah. The bastards followed me after high school too." He grins. 

"And I still haven't heard your music," she sighs wistfully. 

"I'll bring a tape next time," he promises. 

"You better."

They sit in silence for a while, only the cat's purring filling the night ambiance. 

"Want some tea?"

"I guess I should go."

They speak over each other, eyes wide when they meet awkwardly. They chuckle, and Eddie can feel his cheeks warm up.

"Or I can get us a beer? Since you're not an old lady," she offers, spotting the empty bottle on the table. "Unless you really need to go."

"Beer sounds good. Considering there are no old ladies here," he smiles charmingly, daring her to protest. 

Steph doesn't say anything, only rolls her eyes and gently nudges Garfield from her lap onto the couch cushions. She scratches Eddie's head when she passes, thankfully missing the way it causes his whole body to shiver. 

"Won't your uncle be worried where you are?" she asks from the kitchen, giving Eddie the space he needs to collect himself. 

"I told him I'd wait for you," he answers, scratching Garfield and trying to forget how good it felt when done to him. "Also, I don't have a curfew anymore. Never had, in fact. Not with Wayne."

"Lucky you." She steps back into the room, handing him a chilled bottle. "How long have you been living with him?"

"Since high school," he answers before taking a swig. "Spent a short time in a halfway house before that. My parents couldn't handle me anymore, but they managed to reach my uncle and he took me in."

"The hell do you mean 'couldn't handle you'?" Steph asks with a frown.

Eddie chuckles at her immediate offense.

"They got into legal trouble, and couldn't afford the house anymore, I think my dad spent some time in prison too. Tax fraud and shit, never cared enough to dig into it and Wayne doesn't like talking about them either. He's a better parent they'd ever be anyway."

"Yeah," Steph softens. "I'd love to have had someone like him back in the day." Then, she deflates with a sigh. "Though even the nicest people can turn out to be bigots. Not Wayne, of course!" she rushes to add. "He knows about Robin and he's really cool about it." 

Eddie sees his opening and feels comfortable enough to use it finally. 

"He better be, since his nephew is bisexual," he says with a little huff. 

"He is?" Steph picks up curiously. 

"Yeah," Eddie scratches his cheek, suddenly sheepish. "Turned out I wasn't watching Indiana Jones for the plot."

"I think that sweaty chest is plot enough," she says and they both laugh.

"Have you dated a guy, then?" Stephanie asks next. 

"Only one for real," Eddie admits. "But it's not like I've dated many girls either, though it is easier."

"A young bachelor like you?" Stephanie raises her eyebrows in surprise. "You should be swarming with marriage proposals, the way your uncle describes you."

Eddie groans, throwing his head back against the cushions. 

"What nonsense is he telling about me?"

"Only that he has a talented, smart boy in Indy, who's always helpful and protective of his friends and family. Also, he has really frizzy hair."

"Excuse me?"

Eddie picks up his head to look at Stephanie. She's suddenly closer than before, rubbing a lock of his hair between her fingers. 

"When was the last time you had your hair done?"

"Uh." He looks between her hand and her face like he'll find the answer there. "Never? Probably? At least not that I remember."

Stephanie's mouth purses with displeasure. 

"I can fix them for you. For taking care of my cats."

Eddie wants her hands in his hair so badly, but he raises his beer like a dumbass. 

"But I already got a beer," he points out. 

She shakes her head. 

"I share beers with friends for less. I'd usually buzz Wayne too, and you'd be doing me a favor because I can't focus with your split ends right in my face."

She's really playing it up, pout and all, and unfortunately, it's working on him. 

But he'd probably do anything she asked for. 

"Then, uh... Sure, I guess."

[ragnarlothcat]

random question but were you in any fandom(s) before obikin/star wars? and are you the kind of person that sets goals for new years? if so, do you have any goals for 2023? fic related or not!

I've been in other fandoms but never as involved as I am now. I wrote fic as a teenager and then never finished it (as opposed to now, of course) but never really spoke to other writers or joined communities or anything. This is way more fun!

I'm normally not a goal kind of person but for 2020 I had a goal for a sport I do that was going to be easily achievable. Instead there was a global pandemic and I couldn't go the gym for 18 months so I failed because of circumstances outside my control. I'm not saying my resolution caused the pandemic but I'm still not risking it this year. If I set writing goals there's a decent chance my hands fall off just to spite me.

I can say I want to finish one WIP though, that's not so bad 🤔 And at least one of them is short (I say, dooming myself to fifty more chapters) so I think it's achievable! Maybe I'll finish more! Maybe I'll start thirty new ones and not finish them! I am a naturally high-stress person so as long as I am not making myself miserable by accident I consider it a win.

Thank you 🥰 I hope if you have goals you reach them or at least have fun trying!

[luck-of-the-drawings]

OOH YEAH BABY ITS THE SURGERY EPISODE BABY!!! ME AND THE HOMIES NEED SOME NEW FACES FOR OUR NEW PLAN, AND WHO BETTER TO GET THE JOB DONE THAN THE TWO MOST EVIL PEOPLE WE'VE EVER HAD THE MISFORTUNE OF HAVING OUR LIVES VIOLATED BY? I MEAN IT WOULD BE FUNNY. IT WOULD BE FUNNY.

[mainmoenmomentmaybe]

happy anniversary to all the friendships where we truly thought we could make it through together

[pup-pee]

jokes @ night r not funny in the morning,,,

originally the blue was green but then i decided 2 b pan

[spasikonik]

an edek themed collage 🪲

[fuckmeyer]

hot tip: EXCLUSIVE behind-the-scenes content available to those who livechat my fic to me

[sankttealeaf]

hold . on . i just saw your bg3 artwork and i thought it was a repost but you. Made . It. NO WAY. SPEECHLESS YOURE SO GOOD??? FOLLOWED UR OTHER ACCOUNT. AM EATING EVERYTHING UP ALL AT ONCE. FIGHTING THE URGE TO LIKE EVERYTHING. oemgee tarlya… u can write.. u can draw.. WHAT CANT U DO i’m in luv 🤭🤭🙈🙈

im MULTI TALENTED B)

its both a blessing and a curse!! it also means free fanart for my fanfics and thats probably the best part. i can just. draw scenes that i like and no one can stop me !!!! (sometimes i jump between drawing SO much and writing nothing to writing SO much and drawing nothing. havent found the balance yet)

i studied animation at uni but i am not a good animator at all. id show off some work but it has my Full Legal Name on it and thats a little scary to think about

anyway thank u tumblr user yyiikes youre the best<3

(its also the main reason my first arthur x reader has reader being an artist. i am projecting. this is the life i want. my friend got me some rdr2 stamp stickers for christmas and i put the saint denis one on my sketchbook as a reminder of the fic because its got a place in my heart forever<3<3)

[fishtank32]

Please expect a serious slow down of my posting, especially fanart or drawings. I'll be getting a second job soon so I'll be busy every weekend from now on + plus my school is starting next month.

[maknaereality]

I shifted

I shifted to my nana dr for about six months (even though only six seconds have passed here, since I set the time so that one month in the dr equals one second in this reality). I'm still a little confused from coming back, but overall, I feel good.

This dr isn’t my main one but could become my main one. Before I share some details, I want to clarify that this DR doesn't follow the anime’s storyline. For example, that asshole Takumi will never meet Hachi. I'll try to keep it brief, as I don't like talking too much about my dr after all, it is real life .

I live about 15 minutes away from Hachi and Nana’s apartment, in a suburb of Tokyo. I work at a bakery and also do art. Living in Tokyo between 1998 and 1999 is a mix of nostalgia and surreal. It's hard to describe precisely. I’ve also learned to live without modern smartphones, using those old brick phones with buttons instead. This has taught me to live more in the moment, without the constant need to check social media or waste hours scrolling through TikTok, aimlessly losing time.

In this dr, I’m learning to be more independent. Thanks also to my experiences in my Kpop drs, I've learned to manage an apartment on my own here: I do the laundry, cook, manage my budget, pay bills, and work in the bakery. Oh, and I'm also studying to get my driver's license.

I’ve also started learning to play the guitar, especially thanks to Nana. Playing has always been a huge dream of mine, but I never had the chance to do it in this reality. Once, I even got emotional with joy while holding the guitar in my hands, because it’s something I’ve always loved doing.

My relationship with Hachi and Nana is really great.

Hachi is very close to me; she often texts to ask how I’m doing, how work is going, and invites me to hang out on weekends or go to the pub together. I love going out with her because she’s unashamed of anything or anyone, and with her, I never feel judged. She also has a great sense of style. Even though colorful clothes aren’t really my thing, she’s helped me find a style that suits me. I must admit, though, that she requires a lot of patience since she’s a bit naive.

As for Nana Osaki, I really love her a lot. She’s given me so much advice on some of my personal concerns, and she’s the kind of person who could listen to you for hours. She shows her affection through sarcastic jokes. We share the same taste in music. It took a little while for her to fully trust me and start confiding in me, but I understand her, and our bond has grown over time.

I’m still getting to know Shin and Nobu. Shin is very reserved, but I feel like we’ll become great friends. Nobu, on the other hand, has already opened up, and we’ve quickly become close.

Next time I shift, I’ll come back with a suitcase full of Vivienne Westwood clothes, necklaces, and rings!

[wannaeatramyeon]

Meeting Student!Gun Park for the First Time: Part 1

Part 2! G/N. 3.2k. Remember when Gun wanted to get his GED? Well. Stranger to~ Masterlists

"How old are you?"

"20."

Press X for doubt, you think, and that's the exact meme you send over on chat.

"20 like 20 or 20 like you're mid 30s and planning your mid life crisis 20?"

You know you're being rude and making a terrible first impression. It's the first day of a new school year, of a new school in fact, and for some reason the class is held on video call and you're all forced to pair off with a classmate for an icebreaker introduction.

It’s already cringe worthy and awkward enough, icebreakers must have been created as a form of torture. To add insult to injury, you're sure this guy is bullshitting you.

"I'm 20." He deadpans.

Momentarily, you’re stunned into silence. It stretches almost a tad too long before you manage to choke out, “My bad. Sorry."

Wow. You're torn between thinking that's a rough 20, this guy has easily got 40 years under his belt and oh no, when is your puberty and hormones gonna kick in like that.

And that's also the exact moment this 20 year old Gun Park takes a drag on a cigarette and you decide that it's definitely a rough 20.

"So what do you do for fun?" You probe, and you have the distinct feeling he might say something like alimony, planning his third marriage, investing in the stock market - whatever someone in their 50s might say but-

To your surprise and glee, his body language turns shifty. 

He likes to game he says, like it's a dirty little secret. Amongst other things. Mentions something about training and martial arts and you fight to keep a straight face as it turns out you were also right about investing in shares and the stock market.

Gaming, however, is what you latch on to.

"Cute. I bet I could kick your ass."

"Oh yeah?"

"Oh yes."

And this is how you ended up at 4am on a school night, playing Tekken with your new classmate and getting your ass kicked.

"One more!" You screech down the mic, after the KO sign appears on screen, mumbling something about cheating and how if you can time this combo just right-

There's a huff of laughter coming through your tinny headphones and an amused "Fine."

.

.

Dark circles under your eyes grow. It's been a week of straight losses.

You blame the sleep deprivation on Gun Park, though really you have your own stubbornness to blame.

He never tends to say much during the gaming sessions apart from the odd expletive and you rant enough after each of your defeats for the both of you.

Sometimes this will earn you a chuckle and he will snidely add that you asked for this, you were the one who was supposed to kick his ass. This would piss you off enough for another game or three in the hopes of defeating him and getting to gloat.

Which unfortunately has not happened yet.

With a sigh, you hope your camera quality this morning is bad enough and pixelated enough that your poor sleep habits don't show.

You scan over your classmates, the few that have their camera turned on and find him.

Gun looks completely fine. He looks completely fine in what must be 4k and ugh, you scrunch your nose up in annoyance.

You keep an eye on him through the class. Observe how he's usually paying rapt attention, scribbling and typing up notes every now and then.

It's impressive how studious he is.

In comparison, you're daydreaming. Thinking about lunch, other combos or characters to play to counter his own when you catch on to the back end of a sentence as your teacher mentions ‘this’ is something to pay attention to as it will be on the pop quiz.

Huh? You blink a couple times. What is ‘this’? Unfortunately she swiftly moves onto another topic.

You type out a direct message to the only person you know.

You: I missed that, what did she just say?

Gun: You should have been paying attention.

You: Fuck you man!

You see his eyes dip to the bottom of the camera screen, briefly moving as he presumably reads your message.

He smirks.

That night he kicks your ass again.

Then as consolation, reveals what will be on the pop quiz.

.

.

If Gun looked like that in 4k, nothing could prepare you for how he looked in real life.

You're setting up your laptop and notepad in the classroom, the first actual in-person session, when someone takes a seat next to you.

Initially you feel a surge of irritation that they could have sat anywhere else and chose to sit next to you, then you look at the offender and-

Hold on.

You double, triple-take-

Is that?

It must be.

Shit.

It's fucking Gun Park.

You don't entirely regret your initial comments on his looks because this guy definitely does not look 20 but goddamn he looks-

He chooses that moment, when your jaw is on the floor, to turn to you and give you a nod of acknowledgement.

"Y/N."

"H-hi." You manage, and even to your ears it sounds like a simpering fool.

He must have thought so too if the quirk of his lips is anything to go by.

The cherry on top is that you expected this guy to smell like stale smoke, instead all you get is fresh laundry and something faintly dark and heady like leather and cedarwood.

Fuck.

Control yourself, a disapproving voice in your head says. Even that sounds vaguely like Gun.

It does nothing to stop your wandering gaze, peering at him in your periphery when you think he's not looking.

After you have taken your chance to not so discreetly run your eyes up and down his form, the only thing that makes you feel better is his hair. Because yeah he might be hot, but holy shit that must be a gallon of hair gel in there.

.

.

The other thing, as it turns out, that makes you feel a lot better is that he doodles.

It’s utterly charming.

Someone like Gun Park doesn't look like he doodles, but in between lines of his chicken scratch (seriously, who can even read that), there's little stick figures.

Maybe all the time you thought he was being studious he was just drawing-

Wait. You squint at the picture.

Is this guy for real?

"Are they fucking?" You whisper, using your pen to point at the page.

He doesn't answer straight away. There's a moment of surprise as he reacts like this is another secret of his he has unwittingly let you in on before his nostril flares and his eyes narrow and you grin in response.

Your grin grows when he grits out an answer. "No. Fighting."

He doesn't call you a dumbass but you can hear it loud and clear tacked on at the end.

"Whatever, pervert." You counter. You guess if you squint even harder then you suppose they could be fighting. Although the way one is lying on top of another is very suggestive. You don't hesitate to point that out to him.

Gun closes his eyes and counts to ten.

.

.

Even without a seating plan, one forms.

Places taken by chance on the first day becomes a regular arrangement.

You exchange a few words with your classmates, familiarise yourself somewhat with their names and faces. Pieces of their backstory, why they're here studying for a GED but take your spot next to Gun regardless.

No one really talks to him, you've heard them saying he's menacing and intimidating. Yet when your first encounter of him was mistaking him as someone about to hit mid life crisis, how intimidating can he really be.

Besides, he still doodles his lewd figures that he insists are not in any way shape or form comprising sexual positions. So no, you don't find him intimidating at all.

.

.

Gun, as you have come to know, is a man of few words. He is also unsurprisingly not great at literature.

What you don't yet know is he likes to say what he means and mean what he says. His patience only extends to The Art of War, so all the flowery prose and poetry only serves to irritate him.

If Gun glared at you the way he's currently glaring at the textbook, you think you may either burst into tears or burst into flames.

Luckily you do neither of those things but you do take pity on him. Leaning over, you ask him quietly if he needs help.

He doesn't respond but the pen he's clutching in his right hand snaps in half.

Alright then.

Half an hour later, when the class empties out you ask Gun to follow you to the library.

He hesitates, and you add "if you've got time" to give him an out. In the end he doesn't take it and trudges obediently after you.

You very quickly learn that he really doesn't like literature. You're explaining and working him through the analysis and also mildly offended at the bored look on his face.

"This is a waste of time," he interjects and there's a sullen undercurrent to his words.

"Just memorise the analysis then." Exasperation tinges your tone, "That's all you need to do to pass."

He arches a brow at your words.

"They're testing your memory. So just remember what our teacher says."

There's an angry air of resignation as Gun nods, and you slide your notes over for him to copy.

.

.

Not long after, you have your first minor evaluation on the literature material.

You notice during the test that while the vein in Gun’s temple is prominent and he’s clutching his (new) pen tighter, there’s barely any pause as he fills in the answers.

A few days later, the graded papers are handed back. There's a sigh of relief from Gun.

He gives you a smile, small and genuine, eyes crinkling at the corner.

"You owe me one," you tell him jokingly though he takes it to heart and gives you a stern nod.

.

.

Gun repays his debt, with a coffee.

He places the paper cup on the desk in front of you. Logo of the coffee house to the side but still visible. It's new, expensive, and there’s regular lines around the block.

Of course it would be from there.

The issue is, who repays a debt with an espresso. He didn’t even ask for your drink of choice!

"Thanks for this thimble of coffee," you remark as Gun sniffs in distaste at your comment, placing his own matching cup in front of him and saying something about how it's the best untainted way to drink it.

Of course he would also be a coffee snob.

You tell him you usually like it with a bit more cream and a lot more sugar and he mutters that you sound like Goo.

You think that's an insult.

"Well, at least Goo has good taste," you snipe back with a grin.

Gun closes his eyes and counts to ten.

.

.

You: Are you doodling or actually writing notes?

You: Cos on camera you look very studious but I’ve seen your notepad

Gun: None of your business

You: Still drawing your disgusting pornographic stick men then

Gun: They are not-

Gun: Whatever

.

.

You: Ok, maybe that espresso wasn’t terrible

Gun: I know

You: Who’s Goo anyway?

Gun: …

Gun: No-one

You: Suuuure

.

.

You: Tekken tonight?

Gun: Aren’t you tired of getting your ass kicked?

You: >:(

.

.

You: Do you wanna go over the new lit material in the library this week?

Gun: Ok

.

.

Gun: Thanks for your help

You: :) 

.

.

Gun: You’re tired. You should game less.

You: Spoken like a coward!

Gun: Dumbass

You: Hey!!

.

.

Gun: I’ll bring you an espresso tomorrow. You need it.

You: Does it have to be an espresso?

Gun: Yes

You: …Thanks

.

.

To anyone else, the figure standing in the doorway is just smoking. To you, it suspiciously looks like they’re waiting.

It's not a crime. Gun Park can wait for whatever or whoever he wants.

What really throws you off is his smoking. You've seen him casually take one single drag before throwing the whole cigarette away. Even to you, it seems like a waste.

However, this time he smokes one all the way to the filter before stubbing it out. Then does the same to a second, and third.

Strange, very strange.

You approach him. Taking gentle steps, in case he might get spooked and bolt which is really a ridiculous notion for someone like him. Nevertheless, you keep your footsteps light, yourself clearly in view and you wander over to him.

"Hey," you say, with a somewhat forced smile. He doesn't acknowledge your greeting apart from a brief nod.

"... Everything ok?"

It's a perfectly normal question to ask but a vastly bizarre one for Gun. He doesn't look like the type of person where people casually enquire about his well being.

He must have thought so too if the look he gives you is anything to go by.

In response, he stubs out his cigarette (his fourth!) then asks, stilted and stiffly, if you want to come back to his for a game of Tekken.

At least that's what you interpret as he seems to be crazy cryptic.

"Are you interested in Tekken?"

"...Yes." You wonder what on earth this question is because did you hallucinate all those games you played together?

"Then meet me. After class." 

"Where? Here?"

"No. At mine."

"Where's that?"

"..."

He gives you another look, as if you're the one trying to coax a secret out of him despite him offering.

Gun dips forward, murmurs quietly into your ear his address and some vague directions like it's highly confidential information.

You nod along, thinking what is with this guy. 

.

.

So firstly, what the fuck.

Then secondly, what the fuck.

Don't think you hadn't noticed the designer brands Gun wears. If they're fakes, they're very convincing fakes. But you're almost certain they have got to be counterfeit when he brought you over to a junkyard claiming this is where he lives.

You've seen films like this. Granted, it's less in a junkyard and more in the middle of nowhere in America where college kids meet their gruesome ends in fantastical ways.

You never thought this would happen to you. You have sorely miscalculated. 

Is this Gun Park (if that even is his real name) going to butcher you and leave your body on top of a pile of scrap metal in the corner?

Instead of a night of gaming where you’re the one KO-ing him, he’s actually the one that’s going to chase you around wearing a mask and wielding a knife or axe?

"You’re here. Come in," Gun says, opening his front door just as your inner monologue begins to truly spiral out of control and you're considering doing a runner.

"Eh?" You grunt like an idiot, not noticing when the shack appeared nor when you stepped onto his porch, or the side eyes Gun had been giving you.

He gives you another look, likely regretting inviting you at all, and leaves the door ajar for you to either enter or turn back and go home.

.

.

"This is... nice," you lie, through the skin of your teeth.

Gun sees cleanly through your white lie and exhales a huff of amusement.

It's sparse. Peeks of luxury here and there - the extensive PC gaming rig, the entertainment system and consoles, to name a few.

Apart from that, it's barely a home.

"Take a seat." He offers, and it sounds more like an order. Obediently you sit on his sofa, feeling very much a guest.

"You're not in danger," he says, bemused at how awkward you are in his domain, how tense you hold yourself.

'That's exactly what a killer would say,' you think and when you hear a low chuckle, you realise that you said it aloud.

"Don't worry," Gun reassures and it doesn’t really help before he strides off to somewhere in his house and leaves you sitting alone.

He returns back minutes later as you’re in the middle of admiring his entertainment set up and going through his vinyl collection (because obviously someone like Gun has vinyls) with a coffee for you that looks much more milky and to your taste than the usual ones he offers. 

“Thanks.” you take your drink and return back to your seat.

Taking the first sip, you finally manage to relax. Sinking into a sofa that is much more comfortable than at first glance and you take in your surroundings a bit more.

Sort of. You actually take in Gun Park more. 

He’s casual, in a way you have never seen or even considered. Dressed in a t-shirt and grey sweatpants, hair floppy and the only styling is done with his hands running through his hair now and then to keep it back.

Even during the online classes, he is usually dressed up in an open collared shirt.

If you thought he was hot before, it’s nothing compared to now. There’s an air of domesticity, the drink he made for you cradled in your hands, and the distinct feeling that not many people have had the luxury to see Gun in his natural habitat, so intimate and vulnerable.

You wonder if this is how he looks all those nights you’ve been gaming together.

You catch his eyes, having been caught checking him out and he raises his eyebrows at your blatant staring. 

Blood rushes to your cheeks as he chuckles into his own espresso and takes a sip.

.

.

"Holy shit, I won!"

You're familiar with the KO screen. What you're not familiar with is being on the side of victory. You're usually a hair trigger away from rage quitting, from throwing a tantrum down the mic.

Finally. All your hard work has paid off. Time spent thinking of combos, attacks and defences (which would have been better spent studying) is coming to fruition.

You peer over to Gun, expect the controller he is clutching to maybe have been crushed into pieces with his freakish strength. Expected nothing except for a vein throbbing on his temple.

What you do find is-

Gun looking at you, fondness in his eyes. He's taking in your grin, letting your gloating slide.

Doesn't do more than roll his eyes when you perform a victory dance of sorts around him.

And when you get in his face to tell him that you're the winner, you're the best-

(More words are on the tip of your tongue but your gaze drops to his lip, drawn to the small smile he wears.

It sinks in.

The patience he has, the attention he gives, the way he has opened his home to you.

From the very first meeting, the even-handed way he has dealt with your insults, entertained you to the early hours of the morning on Tekken.)

Gun reaches out, tugs your hand and pulls you into his lap and agrees.

"Yes. The best."

You think it's a lie, an embellishment.

But the way he holds you - tender and precious, and the way he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours - soft, like you might break - can't be anything else but the whole truth.

(Update! Part 2 here!)

[kaiser1ns]

#. PINK BOW, MY HEART GOES POW !

featuring 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗿 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 ıllı. takiishi chika, endo yamato

fluff + slight suggestive. just you wrapping a pink ribbon bow around their bicep, the sight makes you insane.

TAKIISHI CHIKA

You have been dying to try this trend, even had a dream of your boyfriend being all adorned with cute little bows in his hair. But, now you sit in front of him with pleading hands and eyes, holding light pink lace as he just stares at you, a little blankly as he sits on the couch with his arms outstretched and the tank top he's wearing doesn't help at all. You try not to jump on top of him and start kissing and hugging him because he looks so hot, so incredibly hot.

"Please, please, please." you would never beg to a man, but right now your needs were getting the better of you, you had to do it and see it. It would look so cute, with him having a pink ribbon around his bicep. "I will let you do whatever you want, just please make my dreams come true!"

"Fine," he put one of his shoulders forward to you, not the first time you touched him there, nor would it be the last, but right now you just wanted to die. For some reason, you really loved his arms, especially at night when he was holding you close and couldn't let you go, nor did he want to. Once you enter his world, you can't leave. That was the golden rule in your relationship, as strange as it was at times.

You almost couldn't believe that he let you do such a thing, he is like a genie granting you the greatest wish in your whole life.  Quickly moving to sit beside him, unable to stop the squeaks and the giggles, you carefully placed the ribbon against his skin, smoothing it out as you started tying it into a bow. The sight of that pink ribbon on the muscles of his arms was so cute that you could hardly contain yourself.

He watched you, without any visible emotion on his face, as you fussed over getting the bow just right. To him, it was just a piece of fabric, nothing special. But to you, it was a symbol of how the most innocent and smallest things could make your heart swell with love for him.

“Oh my God, you look so cute!” you literally screamed, hands over your mouth, sitting back to admire your piece of art. Grabbing your phone immediately to start snapping pictures, capturing every moment from every possible angle. “Baby, you are just so adorable, I’m going to cry.”

He was so confused, just a ribbon can make you behave like a little kid with a sugar rush, obsessing over something as small as a bow.  “Why is this making you happy?” 

“You don’t get it, do you?” you teased, setting down your phone aside and leaning closer to him, heart beating so loud and so fast to the point it may burst at any given second. Poor Chika doesn't know that he can give his girlfriend a heart attack, just by being him. “It’s just my way of appreciating you and your beautiful and strong arms that keep me safe, day and night.”

“It’s just a bow, wrapped around my bicep.” he let out a sigh, shaking his head slightly, “It's nothing special, but if you say so.”

But you weren't paying attention to his words anymore, instead, you focused on how close you were to him now, just inches apart but you could feel the heat and the warmth radiating from his body. You wanted to do more than just look at him and without thinking, you sat on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck, resting your head on his shoulder. You didn't miss seeing the tattoo, on the back of his arm as you smiled softly when you turned to look at his face now, the need to be close to him was overwhelming.

“Why don’t we just cuddle?” you whispered, looking him through your lashes, nibbling on his cheek. If he was cute, then he didn’t know what you were. “Just you and me, and that pink bow that ties us together.” 

What magic did you put on him to soften around you? The arm with the ribbon, wrapped around your waist as he relaxed. It ties us together, you say. He smirked, then he should also tie you later, to see what's so exciting about this lace, to show you how much he loves you too.

ENDO YAMATO

It was his idea for you to tie a ribbon to his bicep, and it's probably the best thing he has come up with. Endo didn't have such sculpted and tight muscles before, yes he was strong, but now... You were drooling at the sight of his buffy and tattooed arms. He knew what he was doing, he always did. Sitting on the kitchen counter, he was between your legs and you took a deep breath — you just had to tie two ribbons to both of his biceps. How easy is that, right? Wrong. It wasn't easy at all, especially the way he looked at you, so smitten like you were the only person in his world, knowing full well you weren’t but you sure took a large of his heart and mind.

“Doll, you just have to tie them, take a photo, and make it your new wallpaper,” he says like it's that simple, yes you're going to make the photo your new wallpaper, you can't help but do it. He smiled sweetly at you, a little playful even, and you took the two pink laces from his hands without hesitation. "I'll make the prettiest ribbons so you won't want to take them off."

"Your wish is my command," you first grabbed his left hand giving it a light squeeze before tying the lace into a cute ribbon. You met his eyes for just a moment and blushed slightly as you began tying a ribbon around his right bicep. "You have very gentle hands, you know that?"

Yes, of course, you do. ”Do I? Maybe I’m just extra careful because I don’t want to ruin this perfect canvas,” you replied, cheeks warming at his compliment, trying to focus on the ribbons and not how his muscles tensed beneath your touch.

Once you were done, he couldn't resist flexing his muscles again, and you could see the lase straining, almost ready to snap. “First, let me take a photo, then you can flex as much as you want,” you said, quickly grabbing your phone. You took a couple of photos, capturing the contrast of the delicate ribbons against his inked arms. But then you had another idea. “Yamato, hug me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, wrapping his arms around you, the bows stood out even more. Only your face was visible, his was resting on your shoulder, but you smiled for the camera as you took a selfie. And just like that, you had your new wallpaper.

“You can let go now,” you teased, but Endo had no intention of letting go. Instead, he swept you off, lifting you in a bridal carry like you were some feather. “Wouldn't dream of it, sweets,” he murmured, eyes now telling you something else. “Now, how about I show you just how strong these really arms are?”

You were shocked by how easily he handled you, but you trusted him completely into letting him take the lead. His strength wasn't just physical—it was the way he could make you feel safe and excited all at once, just by telling you sweet nothings like it was his second nature. Your heart raced, cheeks getting ever redder as he carried you towards the bedroom, knowing full well that he was just getting started.

taglist :: @maruflix

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work

[wwaheoh]

“Making Lunch For Them” - Victoria Housekeeping x gnReader (Platonic)

Alexandrina Sebastiane, Corin Wickes, Ellen Joe, Von Lycaon

a/n: was hunger bungers when writing this

You had been pretty steadily acclimating to your new part-time job at Victoria Housekeeping. It was pretty fun! Apart from the whole “fighting Hollows” on the side- but with your high Ether Aptitude and company sponsored martial arts classes, even the fighting from time to time became enjoyable.

Your coworkers were all very kind. The elegant and warm Mr. Lycaon, your employer, who always aimed to uplift you and never showed any sort of malice or anger whenever you messed up or were unfamiliar with a task. The graceful, gentle Ms. Sebastiane, your senior, was always so nice to you and gave you tips and advice whenever you asked, even offering to cook you food sometime! You haven’t taken her up on her offer yet, but seeing as how well she does the rest of her duties, you could only imagine how great her cooking tastes! There was Ms. Corin, a timid girl who always undervalued her skills- even if truthfully, they were contrary to how she described them. And Ellen Joe, who was also part-timing while attending school. She tended to sleep pretty often, though it made sense, juggling education, work, and maintaining social lives.

They were incredibly helpful and as you became more comfortable around them, you wanted to show your appreciation to them. It took a while, having to subtly probe for information while not giving yourself away. Thankfully after a few questions it was easy to figure out if they had any allergies or favorite foods.

On a weekend, you rose early before your shift began, pulling ingredients from the fridge and starting up the music from your phone. Recipes written down and tweaked to fit their preferences.

After a few hours, you added the finishers and promptly put the food into storage, lunch boxes with Halloween icon stickers slapped on. Frankenstein, a shark, ghosts, and a werewolf.

Taking a shower, you donned your work attire and made your way to the location of the job for today, something not too difficult, just some cleaning and guarding the premises, the usual. Now was the time to deliver your gifts!

Carrying the lunch box with the Frankenstein sticker, you made your way through the premises to find the first victim of your gifts, Corin! You knew she was nearest to where you were stationed- and after a few minutes you found her. Turning the corner, you found the soft green-haired maid cleaning up a vase with a brush.

Approaching from behind, you called out to her, “Corin! There you are!” “Ahh!” She yelled, nearly dropping the vase before quickly getting a handle of it and setting it down before turning to you. “Ah, sorry! Didn’t know you had something in your hands.” You apologized, knowing how the maid was a little accident-prone.

“It’s fine! Uhm, what did you need?” To answer that question, you lifted up the lunch box, “I made some lunch for you all, to show my appreciation!” “Oh! That’s so nice of you, but I didn’t really do much…” “Ah c’mon! You’ve done a lot! You’ve really helped me get used to this job and are a role model!” “Oh that’s so nice to hear…” She shrinked into herself, thankfully not out of negativity but basking in your compliment, a slight giggle escaping her. “Uhm, well thank you! I can’t wait to eat it!” “Hope you enjoy it!”

With that she took her lunch, taking the lunchbox with her to a nearby suitable dining area and opening up the lunchbox.

Inside were some of her favorite foods! Small decorations and a smell that was heavenly. It wasn’t heavy- seeing as she was still on the job, a perfect portion! Her heart wobbled, thinking of how kind you were to offer your cooking to her, she was going to enjoy it for sure!

Shark-stickered lunchbox in hand, you looked through the premises, before finding the shark-girl resting her arm on one of the shelves as she dusted them off. A lollipop in her mouth as usual to help keep her up.

Just as you rounded the corner, it seemed like she already knew you were in the room. Turning towards you, she nodded as greetings, “Yo.”

“Hey Ellen!” You lifted one of the lunchboxes up and towards her. “I made lunch for everyone!” She was surprised, touched that you went through the lengths. Gladly, she took the lunch box and opened it up, chuckling, much to your confusion and worry, as she did.

“So that’s why you were asking all those questions.” “Oh! I thought I was pretty subtle about it…” “You call that subtle? Well you pretty much got it perfect, was feeling pretty tired- this should help!” Pleased to have gotten the food right, you waved your goodbyes, “I’m gonna go deliver the rest to the others!” “Seeya!” She waved back.

Going over to a nearby suitable dining area, she set the lunchbox down and opened up, the familiar smell of her favorite food filling her nose. With a giddy feeling, she dug in, already feeling her energy coming back.

With a lunch box decorated with ghost-themed stickers in hand, you made your way through the halls of the premises and to where Ms. Sebastiane was directed to maintain. You wandered back and forth, confused from not being able to find her before feeling a light grip on your shoulder. “Boo.” A silky voice whispered into your ear, an audible smile in her voice. Turning, you nearly let out a yelp- only a small one escaping you, before realizing who the hand that was on your shoulder belonged to. The very person you were looking for.

“Ah! Miss Sebastiane! I was looking for you!” She nodded as you had quickly recovered from the surprise, “Mhm, what was it dear?” “I uh, I made something for everyone! You all have been really nice and I wanted to make something to show my appreciation!” Pulling the lunchbox out, you hand your senior the box.

Taking it with a grateful smile, she opens it up, the familiar smell of her favorite food filling her senses. A small chuckle leaves her, “So that’s why you’ve been asking all those questions…” “Oh, I thought I was pretty subtle about it…” “Don’t worry, we don’t deal in undercover work apart from what you already know.” Closing the lunchbox, she drifted close and embraced you. “Thank you, it looks wonderful!” You returned the embrace, after a few seconds the two of you let go and she drifted back. “I’m going to go deliver the last of the lunch boxes I prepared!” She nodded, bidding you adieu as you left.

She made her way to a suitable dining area, softly settling herself and the lunchbox down. Opening it up and preparing the utensils, she took a bite of what you had made for her. While she usually projected gracefulness and a soft professionalism, she could not stop the squeal of delight and the smiles brought from the gift.

Going over to where Mr. Lycaon was stationed with the final lunchbox, stickers of wolves decorating the case, you rounded the corner and found the boss of Victoria Housekeeping pretty easily, with him being vacuuming.

“Uh, sir!” You spoke over the loud fans inside the vacuum he was holding, with him quickly noticing you and turning it off. “How may I be of assistance?” His rumbly voice spoke in the now quiet room. “Well sir, I brought lunch!” You both approached each other, meeting in the middle as you handed the lunch box over to him, with him gratefully accepting the gift. “It smells wonderful, I imagine this is why you’ve been inquiring so much about everyone’s tastes?” “Ah- yes sir! Though I believed I was subtle about my information gathering…” “Haha, it’s of no concern. I thank you for this meal, you must give me the recipe some time!” “Of course sir! I have it written down somewhere at home, I’ll get it to you as soon as I can!”

With that, you bid each other farewell for now, with you going to where you had been stationed and beginning your shift properly. Lycaon on the other hand had decided that now was a perfect time for a break, finding himself somewhere suitable to dine before cracking the lunchbox open once more and enjoying what you had made. It was incredibly well made, making him wish he could have seconds. Alas, as he licked his snout and attempted to get his tail under control, he hoped to try more of your cooking.

[potatoplace]

We Can Do This

Feysand x Reader

kinktober day 2 | one night stand, threesome, pregnancy

kinktober '24 masterlist | Poly!ACOTAR x Reader Masterlist

Story Summary: You meet Feyre and Rhys at your friend Emerie's wedding, and enjoy a long, pleasurable night with the married couple. A month later, though, a certain stick turns pink.

Warnings: Talk of an emotionally abusive ex (very brief), smut, smut, smut, 3k words of smut, pregnancy

Words: ~5.1k

Author's Note: ahhhh I love this one so much. I'm terrified of being pregnant and having a child to raise but if Feysand were the coparents? I miiight reconsider. Also. I am still so obsessed with these two, I don't think it will ever end. And also I wrote waaaay more smut than I planned. Like. I know it's kinktober. But this was supposed to be like a 3k word fic and instead it's 3k of smut and 2k of after smut consequences. Still. I love it!! I hope you guys like it!

18+ only pls

🤍💜🤍🩵🤍

The wedding was lovely, and the brides were so, so happy. Emerie, your closest friend at work, had gotten married to lovely, kind blonde named Mor.

Their ceremony was beautiful, complete with heartfelt vows that had you shedding a few tears, and seeing the two have their first married kiss made you long to have the same joy.

Until your brain kicked in, and you remembered that you were in no way ready to be in a relationship.

Your last boyfriend had been an absolute ass, attempting to control everything from what you wore and ate to who you spent your time with.

Emerie had been so helpful in getting you out of that relationship, managing to talk sense into your love-addled brain. You had booked it, and moved into your own apartment- the first time you had ever lived alone.

That was nearly a year ago at this point, but you were still working through your insecurities and inability to trust.

So, no relationships for you for the foreseeable future.

The dancing had already started, but you weren't in the mood to dance, especially not alone. Instead, you made your way to the bar, leaning against it with one arm while you waited for the bartender, watching your friend dance with her new bride.

"What would you like?"

You turned back to face the bartender, answering "a glass of rosé, please," and flashed a bright smile at him.

He busied himself with pouring your drink, and you barely noticed when someone else leaned against the bar, to your right.

You tilted your head to look at them, and your heart nearly stopped. The woman in front of you was so breathtaking, so absolutely flawless in her midnight blue dress. Her brilliant blue eyes met yours and she smiled at you warmly, your breath catching at the sight. Her face was a work of art, more divine than any sculptor could ever hope to capture.

The bartender handed you your wine, and asked the woman for her order- a whiskey on ice.

"Hello, my name is Feyre," the woman introduced herself, and if you thought she hadn't been able to be any more attractive, you were wrong once she spoke. Her voice was husky and low, and something in the way she spoke promised nothing but pleasure and long nights, sending heat straight between your thighs.

"My name is Y/N," you replied, doing your best to keep your voice even and not betray just how effected you were by five words.

She repeated your name, testing it on her tongue. "Absolutely beautiful," Feyre said quietly. She thanked the bartender when he passed her her drink, and she took a small sip. Your eyes catalogued the way her throat moved when she swallowed, how her tongue darted out to lick her lips. "How do you know the brides?"

"Oh, I'm a work friend of Emerie's. She keeps me sane, if I'm being honest," you laughed, and Feyre joined you, such a beautiful noise that you found yourself wanting to hear it again. "And yourself?"

"Mor is my husband's cousin, but I think of her as one of my sisters at this point," Feyre replied, and her words made your heart sink slightly.

Married.

"That's lovely, that you get along with your in-laws," you said, trying to conceal your downed hopes at a wonderful evening with the woman in front of you.

"Mm, I definitely feel lucky to get along with her."

Just as she finished speaking, a man slid up behind her, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her neck lightly. He grabbed the drink from her hand and took a deep sip, replacing it in her grasp.

"Oh, Y/N, this is my husband, Rhys," Feyre said, and the man turned to look at you.

It figures that the two most beautiful people you would probably ever meet were married to each other.

His eyes were such a deep blue color that they nearly looked violet, and his hair shined blue-black in just the right lighting. His face itself was gorgeous, those high cheekbones making him look positively regal.

"It's nice to meet you," you said, feeling more shy now with the both of them in front of you.

"I can say the same, darling," Rhys purred at you.

Their voices alone could probably coax you to climax with how heavenly, or perhaps sinful, they both sounded.

His hands had drifted further up Feyre's body, resting just underneath the bust of her dress, his thumbs stroking against the fabric there.

You couldn't help that your eyes were drawn there.

Or that's what you told yourself, as both Feyre and Rhys smirked at you when they caught your eyes, obviously having seen where they'd drifted.

Your cheeks heated, but you refused to look away from them.

That made Feyre smile coyly at you, and she placed a gentle hand on your arm. “Are you here with anyone tonight, darling?”

You shook your head. “No, I hadn’t found anyone… suitable enough.” You tried to keep your voice confident, possibly even bold, with the renewed hope for the night blooming between your thighs.

“What a shame,” Rhys drawled, eyes raking over your form. “You just might have to come home with us, it would be even more of a shame for you to go home alone.”

Your cheeks flushed further at his words, and you stepped a bit closer to the devastatingly beautiful pair.

“Maybe I should.”

Feyre turned her head to look at the dance floor, where most of the wedding party was enjoying the night. “I don’t think Mor or Emerie would mind if we slipped out of the party a bit early, do you, darling?” She asked, turning her eyes back to yours, keeping you captive in her gaze.

“Not one bit,” you said breathlessly, and that was all the pair needed to disentangle themselves and each take one of your arms in theirs, guiding you to the exit at a casual pace.

The three of you grabbed your coats, Rhys slipping yours over your arms before repeating the action with his wife. They led you to a sleek black car, and Feyre led you to the backseat before joining you, Rhys taking the wheel.

The car ride could have taken an hour for all you cared, because the moment you were buckled and moving, Feyre was on you, her lips capturing yours in a searing kiss, filled with her fiery desire, and her hands were already exploring your body over the fabric of your dress.

She squeezed your breasts, testing the fullness of them before pinching at your nipples, the sensitive buds hardening in response, all the while her mouth was making a mess of your neck, leaving bite marks and hickeys in their wake. One of her hands trailed down your abdomen, down your thigh to the hem of your dress and slipped under it, dragging up your inner thigh and straight to your core. Her fingers ran over your slit, a breathy moan leaving you as they did. Feyre’s seductive laugh in your ear had you widening your legs for her, giving her better access as your hands clutched at her shoulders, slipping between silky fabric and soft skin.

“No panties? Naughty little girl,” Feyre whispered, just as two fingers dipped between your folds, and Feyre let out a groan when she felt how soaked you were, just for them.

Those same to fingers drifted up, making small, quick circles on your clit, building your pleasure up, up, up-

The door just to your right opened, a gush of cold air entering the car, and Rhys chuckled lowly behind you.

“Couldn’t wait, sweet wife of mine?”

Feyre grinned up at him, her hand already lifting to her mouth, and she sucked your arousal off her fingers, the actions sending another pulse to your core. You whimpered at the sight of her, still slightly leaning over you, her hair disheveled from your wandering hands. “Of course I couldn’t, husband, not with such a sweet treat waiting for me between these thighs.”

Strong arms wrapped around you, and you heard the click of your seatbelt just before your were pulled out of the car, and right into Rhys’s capable hold. Feyre followed just behind, shutting the door behind her and handing a pair of keys to the valet.

Because you weren’t just at a house, you were at a high rise apartment- one with actual security, and a front desk, and a valet for christ’s sake!

You were distracted from that a moment later, Rhys’s lips ghosting across your ear as he whispered, “I am going to absolutely devour you.”

Melting- you had to be melting at this point, the heat between your thighs having built to an inferno, every inch of your skin crying out for these two strangers’ touch.

Once the three of you were in the elevator, Feyre stood in front of you, caging you entirely between the two of them. “Feeling good, darling?” She asked, running her thumb over your cheek. You nodded- you were feeling more than good. In fact, this was the best you had felt in over a year.

Feyre smiled, so dazzling your breath hitched, and she leaned in for a gentle kiss.

The elevator dinged, and the three of you left the elevator, Feyre opening the one lone door at the end of the short hallway while Rhys carried you in, making his way into another hallway and finally arriving in a grand bedroom.

He gently set you down on the bed, your feet just barely dangling off of the edge. Rhys got on his knees before you, and brought your right foot to rest on his thigh as he undid the tie of your shoe. Feyre entered the room a moment later, her coat and shoes already off. She padded across the plush carpet and crawled onto the bed, coming to rest behind you.

Feyre pulled your jacket down, uncovering the skin of your arms to the warm air of their bedroom as Rhys moved on to your left shoe, discarding them to his right once they were both removed.

“Let’s get you out of the dress, darling,” Feyre suggested, already pushing your hair aside and reaching for the zipper, slowly dragging it down your spine. You shuddered slightly under her touch, her fingers lingering along the base of your spine.

“Stand up for us, doll,” Rhys said, holding your hands and helping you up. Feyre moved the straps of your dress off your shoulders, and it slid off your body to pool on the floor, revealing that you were bare underneath.

Rhys clicked his tongue. “Naughty naughty girl, wearing no underwear to a wedding,” he playfully scolded you, bopping your nose with his index finger.

You bit your lip, nervous at your nakedness and how, well- how clothed they still were. “They ruined the silhouette of the dress…”

Feyre laughed behind you. “I know, darling, I'm not wearing any either.”

Rhys gasped in fake surprise. “Two naughty girls in front of me, hmm? How ever will I punish you…” He trailed off, eyes running over your naked form and his wife, hovering behind you with her hands on your hips.

“I know a way,” Feyre suggested, her lips hovering over your neck. “You could… ‘make’ us play with each other.”

You nodded your head without thinking- anything from either of them and your night would be perfect.

Rhys hummed, thinking it over. “That could work, sweet wife. Y/N, would you like to do the honors and undress Feyre?”

You nodded eagerly. “Yes, please,” you groaned, already turning to face Feyre, who was grinning at you, already pulling her hair to the side. You wrapped your arms around her, fumbling for the zipper for a second before slowly dragging it down, and tugged it off of her shoulders. Her dress fell to her feet, your eyes greedily taking in her perfect body.

Your hands came up to cup her chest, thumbs rolling over her nipples and eliciting a small gasp from her lips. “Beautiful,” you murmured, before leaning in and sucking one nipple into your mouth, rolling your tongue over it. One of Feyre’s hands grabbed your hair, keeping your head in place as the other pulled your lower half closer towards her, your bare stomachs resting together as your mouth moved to the other nipple, repeating its movements.

At the sound of leather creaking, you released Feyre’s nipple and turned, eyes met with the sight of Rhys palming himself through his pants, seated in a high backed leather chair in the corner of the room, with a perfect view of the bed. “Don’t mind me, girls, keep playing.”

Feyre decided to follow his order first, spinning you so that you were facing away from the bed, and she gently pushed you down onto it, gesturing for you to scoot up further until you were all the way on.

She spread your legs and crawled between them, resting on her knees and elbows and she dove in, licking a long stripe up your slit. One of your hands shot down, grabbing a fistful of her hair before you could think. Feyre’s tongue played along your clit, lapping at it a few times before going further down to taste your arousal from the source.

Her tongue fucked into you and you squirmed against where Feyre’s hands were holding down your hips, crying out in pleasure. “Please,” you begged, not even sure of what you needed besides more.

Feyre pulled away slightly, her lips hovering over your pussy. “What’s that, darling?” She asked teasingly, smirking when all you did was cant your hips up to her face. “Did you need more?”

“Mhm,” you whined pitifully, half heartedly attempting to push her head back onto you.

“If you insist,” Feyre said, pulling away from you entirely, and you cried out at the loss of contact.

“What are you-?”

Your question was cut off when Feyre positioned herself above your face, sinking down slowly to let your mind catch up.

What you didn’t expect was a tongue to lick up your cunt, and lips to latch around your clit in the next moment. “Fuck,” you moaned out loudly, your head rising up and hitting Feyre, hovering above you.

“Come on, love, open up,” Feyre coaxed, lowering herself slightly, and this time your brain took the hint, your tongue sticking out to lick at her center, the sweet taste of her costing your tongue.

You moaned into her when Rhys’s tongue returned to your clit, working you up to your peak quickly as you own tongue danced over Feyre, moving between her clit and soaked hole as Feyre’s rocking hips allowed. You toppled over the edge when Feyre’s soft hands pinched both of your nipples, and Rhys’s teeth grazed ever so slightly over your clit, the slight pain mixed with overwhelming pleasure tipping you over the edge.

Feyre’s fingers slipped into your cunt when Rhys’s mouth abandoned your clit, pushing in and out of you, stretching you out.

A moment later you heard the crinkle of a wrapper- a condom, thank god you didn’t have to ask- and Rhys’s warm body was between your legs, keeping you spread apart. Feyre’s fingers left your hole, but were quickly replaced by the thick head of Rhys’s cock, pushing in just the tip before pulling out, sing you.

You whined into Feyre’s cunt, and her hips stuttered above you, sinking down further for a moment before lifting back up.

“Are you ready for me, Y/N?” Rhys asked, hands tapping on your inner thighs. You nodded your head as much as you could, unwilling to take your mouth of off Feyre. “Use your words, babygirl,” he said, tapping your thighs again.

You pulled off of Feyre with a groan and moaned, “Yes,” before latching your mouth back onto Feyre’s clit.

Rhys chuckled when Feyre cried out again, her hands on your breasts propping her up as she came. He pushed in to the hilt, and your loud moan was muffled by Feyre’s skin, her hips still shaking over you.

She went to move off of you, but your arms came up to grip her thighs, keeping her seated on your face- it would be her throne for the rest of time, if you had your way. “Y/N!” Feyre screamed as you kept her over the edge as long as you could, tongue working furiously as Rhys began pumping in and out slowly. Each heavenly drag of his cock made you moan into Feyre’s cunt, and you knew you were in for a long night.

Feyre finally pried herself away from your face, falling back against the bed for a few seconds as Rhys continued fucking you, his pace still slow and steady, a thumb rubbing slow circles on your clit.

“Such a good girl, taking my cock so well,” Rhys praised, and your face scrunched in delight as you beamed up at him, a squeaky moan leaving your lips when he hit just the right spot.

“Oh, that was delightful,” Feyre groaned, moving so she was laying to your right, hand stroking over your stomach. “Make her do it again, Rhysie,” she demanded, looking to her husband.

“Yes, dear,” Rhys said with a smirk, angling his cock in the same way again, hitting the sensitive area once more, the same noise pulled from your lips. Feyre grinned in delight, her hand moving up to your chest slowly.

“We are going to have so much fun,” she whispered in your ear. “Are you going to be a good girl for us?”

You nodded your head vigorously, needing to please them in that moment.

“That’s good, sweet little thing. Very, very good,” Rhys said, the last three words punctuated by deep thrusts that made you see stars, your second orgasm of the night claiming you.

“Do you think we could get… five out of you?” Feyre asked softly as you came down, Rhys still buried inside of you. You nodded your head, even though you weren’t sure they would be able to. But you would be damned if you didn’t let them try. “Let’s get started on the third, then, babygirl,” Feyre said, a soft kiss placed on your lips as her hand played with your nipples.

Oh, yes. You were definitely in for a long night.

🤍💜🤍🩵🤍

Sunlight was just beginning to light the room when you awoke, tangled between two warm bodies. You blinked the sleep out of your eyes, for a moment not remembering at all where you had ended up last night, before it all came rushing back.

Feyre. Rhys. The best sex of my life.

You looked to both sides of you carefully, and after seeing that the two of them were still fast asleep, you carefully slinked out of their bed, slipping on your shoes and dress from the night before, and pulling on your coat as you made your way to the door of their bedroom. Thankfully, your keys and phone were still in the zippered pocket you had put them in the night before, so you wouldn’t have a problem getting home.

Before you left the room, you took one last look at the couple that would occupy your dreams for the next few months. You sighed quietly, and opened the door gently, shutting it softly behind you. After a moment of trying, you found the front door.

The elevator was thankfully empty the entire ride down, and the lobby was free of everyone but the front desk person and security guard. You smiled awkwardly at both of them as you left the building, feeling so, incredibly out of place.

You caught the train home, collapsing into your bed after shrugging off your dress and removing your shoes.

Last night had been perfect. It was fun, casual, and had boosted your confidence incredibly high.

As you snuggled into your pillows, you couldn’t help but miss the warmth you had woken up in, but you knew it was better this way. They were married and you weren’t ready to commit.

That’s what you told yourself, at least.

🤍💜🤍🩵🤍

The next month was hard.

You had been handed a massive project at work before Emerie had come back from her honeymoon, and you had been struggling with it ever since, even with some input from the other woman.

You had reacted poorly to a few choices that your boss had made regarding the project, both of them ruining a weeks worth of work each.

Then, your ex, George, had found where you lived, and had started harassing you there and at work again, like he had right after you’d left him.

Overall, you’d had so many reasons to not question how vulnerable and exhausted you were feeling.

It was only when you had hurled your guts up in your work’s bathroom for the third day in the row that your realized.

You hadn’t had your period in over two months. And your heart dropped into your stomach.

You were crouched over a toilet during your lunch break, peeing on a stick to figure out if you were just being paranoid.

But you knew. You knew.

And when that stick turned pink, a positive plus sign so dark and obvious you couldn’t deny it, you cried in the pharmacy bathroom stall.

You made your way back to your office once you had dried your tears, so many fears playing in your mind.

You were single, unmarried, hell, the child was a product of a threesome with a married couple. You hadn’t felt ready for a relationship, let alone a child.

But… with your hand resting on your stomach, you felt… joy. Hope. A baby was growing inside of you, against all odds. The three of you had made sure to use a condom every time Rhys fucked you, and how often did condoms really fail?

What are we going to do, little nugget? You thought to yourself, your hand rubbing a soothing circle over your still flat abdomen.

🤍💜🤍🩵🤍

Two weeks later, and you had made a final decision. You were keeping the baby.

You had also decided that you needed to see Rhys and Feyre again, to at least tell them what was happening.

But you were nervous. So, so nervous as you stood outside of their apartment building. It looked even more intimidating than the night you had first come here.

You made your way to the front doors, expecting them to open when you pushed on the door.

It didn’t budge.

“Ma’am, please state your name and who you are trying to visit,” the security guard next to the door said.

“Oh, I’m uhm. My name is Y/N, I’m here to see Rhys and Feyre, please.”

The guard flipped through a tablet, then shook his head. “I’m sorry, ma’am, you aren’t on the list of approved visitors. You’re welcome to call them and be put on the list, but until them I’m afraid you have to leave.”

Your face flushed, embarrassed with the fact that you couldn’t call the couple.

“Uhm… Would there be any way that I could just wait in the lobby for them, or you could call them for me? I really, really need to speak with them, but I don’t have their phone numbers,” you pleaded, hoping that the man would take pity on you.

He sighed. “I’m afraid that’s impossible, ma’am. You’ll just have to find another way to contact them.”

It was your turn to sigh, tears involuntarily spilling from your eyes. “Thank you, I- I’m sorry,” you said, sniffling to keep the worst of the tears at bay until you were able to turn away from him.

You wiped at your eyes as you started walking, tears pouring from your eyes as your heightened hormones kicked your panic into overdrive-

And then you smacked directly into a broad chest.

“I’m so sorry,” you cried, your eyes on the ground so you wouldn’t have to see the person’s expression.

“Hey, it’s o- Y/N?” A velvety voice asked.

Rhys.

You looked up, blinking the tears from your eyes as you took in the male. He was just as beautiful as you remembered, and you knew you made a mistake in coming here.

You were an absolute wreck, and here he was, a Greek god come to life.

“Is everything alright, Y/N?” He asked gently, using his thumbs to wipe the tears from your cheeks.

“I- I-” you stuttered, the words catching in your throat, more tears spilling over and sobs tore from your lungs. His strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest for a comforting hug.

“Let’s get you inside, hmm, darling? We can talk and get you some coffee, alright?”

You nodded in agreement, still feeling unable to speak.

He released you from his hold but kept one of his arms wrapped around yours, and guided you into the building.

This time when you entered the elevator, you noticed that Rhys used a special key on the button pad, causing the lowest button to light up, which he pushed.

The ride was quick, and he ushered you out of the door and through their front door.

“Rhysie, are you home?” Feyre’s voice asked from far away, likely a few rooms down.

“Yes, love, and I think you should come out here, I found a special someone on my way home,” Rhys called out, his hands automatically taking your jacket and hanging it alongside his. A hand on your low back guided you into a sitting room, and Feyre came out of the hallway that you believed led to their bedroom.

“Oh, Y/N!” Feyre exclaimed, obviously not having expected you to be the visitor. “This is a pleasant surprise, what are you doing here love?” As she got closer, she could see how red and puffy your face was from crying, and the tears still running down your face, at a slower pace now. “Is everything alright?”

You shook your head, but couldn’t speak, still too choked up from your tears.

“Let’s sit down, okay?” Feyre said, taking you by the arm and leading you to a couch, sinking down onto it with you. “Rhys, would you go get her something warm to drink?”

“Of course. Would you like coffee, love?”

“Oh, uh, no, I’ll have tea, please- non-caffeinated if you can,” you replied, heat coloring your cheeks.

Rhys’s brow furrowed for a moment before smoothing out, and he nodded. “I’ll be right back, girls.”

He left in the direction that you assumed their kitchen was in, and Feyre’s hand came to rub small circles on your upper back.

“Do you want to talk about it, love?”

“No, but… I need to,” you sniffled, rubbing your sleeves against your eyes.

“Okay… Would you like me to guess?” Feyre asked, pinching your side lightly and you giggled softly.

“No, no, I don’t… It’s not something that you should find out in that way.”

Rhys came back at that moment, three mugs clutched in his hands. “Alright, here’s a lemon ginger tea for you, Y/N, and a coffee for you Fey.” He sat in the chair to your left, and sat his mug down on the coffee table. “Now, why are we so lucky to see you again today, love?”

You took a sip of the tea, thankful for the warmth, and the flavor helped the the nausea that had started building in your stomach. “I’m, uh…” You trailed off for a moment, trying to figure out how best to phrase this. But really, there was no good way to say this. “I’m pregnant.”

Both of them blinked at you, confused.

“I… I haven’t had… sex… with anyone besides the two of you in almost a year and- and I know that we used condoms and it doesn’t make sense and you probably want absolutely nothing to do with me- I’ll just go,” you rambled, setting your cup down and tried to stand up, only for both of them to clamp a hand down on you.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Feyre asked, her tone… happy?

You didn’t understand.

“What makes you think we want nothing to do with you, love?” Rhys asked, one of his hands turning your head to look at him, and you could swear you saw silver lining his eyes.

“Because… I was a one night stand, and I… You two are married, and perfect, and I’m just…”

“Just what, hmm? You’re perfect too, you know,” Feyre said, and arm wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you into her side.

“That’s not-” you sighed. “I just mean that this is nothing that you could have planned for, or wanted. That’s all.”

“Actually, Y/N…” Rhys began. “Feyre and I have been trying to have a child for the last two years, with no success. We want a child, and have wanted a child for so long. Maybe our meeting you was some divine intervention, leading us to something we never knew we wanted, along with all that we’ve ever wanted.”

Tears filled your eyes as he spoke, his kind words washing over you.

“If I can be honest with you, Y/N, Rhys and I… We haven’t been able to keep you out of our thoughts in the past six weeks, we were so close to just asking Emerie for your phone number.”

The tears spilled over, and Rhys got up from his chair and scooped you up, taking your place and setting you on his lap. Feyre grabbed a tissue from the box on the coffee table and dabbed at your eyes, Rhys’s hand smoothing your hair out of your face.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Feyre cooed at you, kissing your cheeks. “Unless you don’t want the child…?”

You shook your head vigorously, strands of your hair smacking Rhys in the face. “No, I… I want to keep my little nugget, it’s just. I’m so happy,” you cried, your sobs returning in full force.

“Oh, love,” Rhys chuckled. “Everything is going to be okay. We can do this. There are three of us after all, and that means two people to help take care of you while you’re carrying our sweet little nugget, as you called it.”

They both placed a hand on your lower abdomen, and you all let it sink in.

You were having a baby.

And with the two of them by your side, you almost felt prepared.

General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff

[formulawolff]

the (not so subtle) art of a crush - t.w.

pairing: female driver!reader x toto wolff

word count: 777

warnings: toto being down bad, some teasing, sexual innuendos, one-sided yearning, yadayadayada

a/n: this was a request made by an anon (i believe!) this is also sort of a spin-off of fanboy behavior, which i absolutely adored writing. i think yearning (and well.. down bad) toto is my favorite toto to write! i hope y'all enjoy! <3

"and tell me," the driver's accent is crisp as he licks his lips, "why do you need help creating an instagram account again?"

"nothing major," a figure shrugs, fiddling with a loose thread in his wrinkled white polo, "i just want to stay in the loop. that's all."

"toto," a new voice chimes in, "you have never once mentioned wanting an instagram, or any social media really, until now. what is going on?"

"nothing major," toto wolff exhales, rolling his eyes, "you all have it, so why can't i?"

"because you're ancient?" lewis hamilton scoffs, arching a brow, "you're probably going to need a step-by-step tutorial on how to navigate the platform."

"i think i can figure that one out myself you know," toto hisses, jaw clenching as his drivers stare blankly, "if five year-olds can do it, i can do it."

"let me see your phone," george russell extends an arm, waving his fingers, "i'll get your account set up."

"i-i," the team principal stammers, heat billowing into his cheeks, "i-i don't know if i necessarily need help with that."

"are you blushing?" lewis purses his lips, a devious smirk forming as the dots connect, "mate, do you have something in there that you don't want us to see?"

only approximately one hundred and two screenshots of a certain williams driver. three or four videos. all of which were screen recordings from various interviews.

his cherished clips. ones he watched every night before he drifted off.

all of which were not tucked away into the hidden folder of his camera roll.

speaking of which, he may have to figure out how to do that. with three kids, an ex-wife, and two nosy drivers, his phone was an easy target. he probably needed to set up a passcode as well.

the lengths he was going to over a crush. a fucking crush.

well, was it a really a crush?

or more like an infatuation?

that was a question for another time. he had two drivers in his office at the moment, circling around him like vultures, eager to pick him apart.

"nothing of your interest," toto retorts, in a vain attempt to maintain his composure, "nothing, really."

"got someone's nudes in there?" lewis coos, tilting his head, "or even worse, a sex tape?"

"lewis," george brings a hand to his temple, "what on earth is wrong with you?"

"what, mate?" lewis throws his hands in the air, "i'm just giving him shit."

"shit he clearly does not want," george mutters, "toto, if you need help setting up an account, just facetime me. don't try to text me. it's much easier to explain over a call than written directions."

"or he can just go on wikihow," lewis offers, "they have guides on just about everything."

oh, really?

did they have a guide on how to navigate the unbearable weight of yearning for a woman thirty years your junior? a woman on a rival team? a crush so bad that it was beginning to snake its way into every aspect of your life? consume your every waking thought?

a crush so intense that you had already spoken to members of the williams crew?

his next target was james, whom he was planning on meeting and speaking with after the next press conference. that was in about a week's time, at third grand prix of the season.

fuck, this was embarrassing, really.

but he wanted more.

actually, he needed more.

he craved it.

he needed to gather all of the possible information and intel as he could. her likes and dislikes. her favorite foods and the ones that were so vile they made her throw up. what kept her up at night. what music she preferred to listen to on race day. what drinks she indulged in. what animals she loved. what made her so unbelievably pissed off she couldn't think straight.

he wanted to catch a glimpse inside of her mind.

all of the things that could possibly buzz around inside of that beautiful head.

really, he just wanted to learn what she was composed of.

her childhood memories, the ones she spoke of with that sweet fondness in her voice. the delicate aspects of her life that she cherished, beaming from ear to ear. the things she feared. how she expressed her love. the people she adored.

everything.

he wanted to know it all.

and following her instagram account, along with her various other socials would prove to be the first step in accessing that plethora of information.

at least it was a step in the right direction.

even if his drivers were giving him hell for it.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ taglist ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

@noooway555 @s-awturn @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @lokideservesahug @fore45fore @eattothebeatt @statuewoman @sarah10r-blog @lavenderandlace @racecardilfs @bblouifford @irishmanwhore @jhobi18 @roseandtulips @simply-the-best23

[todayimfour]

AGERE SOOS!!

BECAUSE I CANT HANDLE HOW YALL HAVE IGNORED MY BOY

And headcannons because mwah I love you 💕

I feel like he'd just describe his regression as "having some kid time"

Okay so no set age range, he's just a kid! Sometimes he's younger than others but he's fairly self sufficient.

But that doesn't mean he doesn't want to be babied!! And his regression is absolutely triggered (positively) by important people doting on him.

Grandma made cookies? "Sweet!! Thanks granny :)" Stan nodded approvingly at a repair he did? An almost silent "yuss"

He absolutely made a copy of Stan's hat out of paper and got really sad when the marker he used made the paper wet and thin so it didn't stay up right, but then he got the idea to use red construction paper and oh yeah it's coming together now!!

He's got one of those pens with a bunch of colours and uses it to doodle little ninja dudes on sticky notes, they're all cutting fruit and he leaves the sticky notes everywhere.

Also it's fun to take apart and put back together as a fidget.

"hey dudes I found this pen with like- nine different colors. I could draw so many fruit ninjas with this- like apples or strawberries or.. hey I need to look up more fruits!"

His regression isn't very noticeable if that makes sense? Like he's just so openly regressed like half the time that no one bats an eye when he does something childish because 'thats just how Soos is'

He's got a favorite cup and it's an off brand snack cup that has the spot for your snacks built into the lid. Stan bought a bunch for the store with the mystery shack logo and one had a defect so he let Soos keep it

He uses it basically every day, all the time, everywhere. "It's just so convenient!!"

Throughout the series (or I guess as summer progresses) Stan gets closer with Soos and I think this plays into Soos's regression in a positive way. Stan doesn't exactly become his caregiver but he watches for Soos, makes sure he's doing okay and draws with him from time to time.

(⁠人 ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)⁠｡⁠*ﾟ•

The board was made using PicsArt! None of the art was mine it was all found on the app!

Side note, for anyone curious, I'm still not really back from my hiatus. I'm trying to front more, I really am. Dennys is still the host for now- I was just supposed to front for a little bit and then I saw that Gravity Falls was kicking again on Tumblr so I had to make this. Have a great day/night!! -Ghostly

Tags!!! Aaa!! I have a taglist now I guess :D

@nottapossum @grauntiemotersblog