#she looks so fuzzy and low quality help

[eighteenthofoctober]

Meekuu

Very much inspired by @jack0ran on TikTok, their art is super yummy, check them out!

[theshiniestgemstone]

it starts with hello- fem!reader x gideon gemstone

warnings: nosy parents

word count: ~2k

The kitchen was warm and chaotic, filled with the clatter of Tupperware lids, the hiss of sealing tape, and the constant shuffle of hands moving aluminum trays of deviled eggs and macaroni through a well-rehearsed assembly line. The women’s voices surrounded you like a cloud of perfume and hairspray—hushed gossip and occasional bursts of laughter mixing with talk of church fundraisers, whose husband did what, and how the new café on Main was already going downhill within a year of their grand opening.

You did your best to tune it out. Head down, sleeves rolled up, you focused on the task at hand: stacking boxes and counting portions. You’d been assigned a corner of the counter where you could do your work without disrupting the rhythm of the real women in charge. Your mother was in her element, deep in conversation with Ms. Amber Gemstone, the queen bee of the kitchen, who hadn't so much as glanced at you since you'd walked in.

“Three dozen in that one,” Amber instructed someone over her shoulder, her voice smooth but firm. “Mark it. I’m not having us show up to the luncheon with one tray short like last year.”

You kept your head low, fingers moving automatically as you sealed another box. It wasn’t like you to spend your day off boxing meals for a church luncheon you had no intention of attending, but your mom had a way of guilting you into things before you could make a decent excuse.

“Don’t sneak that cookie, Gideon,” Amber snapped suddenly, her voice slicing through the chatter. You blinked and looked up just in time to see him freeze mid-reach, caught red-handed with a half-lifted sugar cookie.

“I wasn’t!” He started, grinning sheepishly, already pulling his hand back. “I was checking for quality.”

Amber rolled her eyes. “Check the boxes, not the snacks.”

He turned toward the counter where you were working, and for the first time, you really looked at him. Smiling, lean, with soft strands of hair pulled back from his face and a clean but not fussy look. He looked… normal. Not stuck-up or overly polished like the rest of the sons you’d met. Just a guy in jeans and a T-shirt that had a smudge of flour near the hem.

You reached for the same cookie tray without thinking, and your hand brushed his.

It was barely a touch—just the graze of your fingers against the back of his—but it was enough to break your focus. You both recoiled instinctively, as if burned, and then looked up at the same time.

“Hello,” he said politely, like the awkward contact hadn’t just happened. His voice was low, casual, but not indifferent.

“Hi,” you replied just as quietly, equally formal. “Take two if you’re going to sneak them. Keep it even.”

There was a pause—not heavy, not awkward, just long enough to acknowledge something had shifted in the room. Or maybe just in your head.

He stepped aside so you could reach the tray, and you both resumed your respective tasks, pretending that moment hadn’t happened. But the next time your hands moved toward the same container, you hesitated for a beat longer.

Your mother’s laugh cut through the air, pulling your attention back. She was talking about someone’s divorce like it was a plot twist in a soap opera. You rolled your eyes and turned back to your boxes.

Gideon stayed near you, helping with the packaging instead of drifting back to wherever he’d come from. He didn’t speak much. He just asked where things went, handed you rolls of tape, and leaned close once or twice to read the numbers you’d scrawled on top of the boxes.

When Amber gave him another scolding glare, he grinned and raised his hands in mock surrender. “Don’t worry, Mama, I’m just being helpful.”

“You’re being nosy,” she muttered, but there was no heat behind it.

The car ride home was unusually quiet. The only sounds were the low hum of the engine and the muffled static of the radio station your mother refused to change, no matter how fuzzy it got once you crossed county lines. You leaned your head against the window, watching familiar storefronts pass in a blur, thinking about how many boxes of macaroni you'd packed and how much your lower back ached.

Your mom had been quiet ever since you left the Gemstone property. Suspiciously quiet. Which meant one of two things: either someone said something that got under her skin, or she was deep in thought about something she planned to make your problem. You glanced at her, noticing the way she tapped the steering wheel with her thumb. Always a dead giveaway.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, already bracing yourself.

She hesitated, sighed through her nose like she wanted to ease into it, and then said, “Gideon’s a good boy. You’d look nice together.”

You groaned immediately, letting your head thunk against the window. “Mom. No. Don’t even start.”

“I’m just saying,” she replied, defensive already. “It always starts with a simple hello. Your daddy said that to me and look where we are now. Twenty years later with you.”

“Daddy told me the first thing he ever said to you was, ‘Damn, little lady. You have a nice ass.’”

She gasped like she’d been slapped, her mouth dropping open before she muttered a string of curses under her breath. “That man don’t know how to keep his mouth shut. But after that,” she added with emphasis, pointing a finger at you, “there was a hello.”

You stared at her, deadpan. “That doesn’t make it better.”

“He was nervous!” she defended, as if that explained everything. “It was a different time.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, even as you shook your head. “There is nothing about that story that screams true love, Mom.”

She waved a hand, turning the wheel as she pulled onto your street. “You’ll see. These things sneak up on you. You’ll be minding your business, boxing up casseroles, and then bam—you’re brushing hands and looking at each other like—like—”

“Like what?” you challenged, eyebrow raised.

She didn’t answer right away. She parked the car in front of your house, took the keys out of the ignition, and turned to look at you fully. “Like you already know each other, but you’re just now catching up,” she said, softer now, almost wistful. “It happens fast when it’s the right one.”

You didn’t say anything, just reached for the door handle with a huff. You didn’t want to think about Gideon’s stupid smile, or how warm his hands were, or the way he lingered next to you just enough to notice. You were tired, hungry, and emotionally drained from being in a room full of casserole gossip and overcomplicated church politics.

Still… when you closed your bedroom door that night, you caught yourself thinking about his hand brushing yours. Just for a second.

Then you cursed your mother under your breath and climbed into bed.

+++

Three days had passed since the casserole assembly line incident, and your mom had been annoyingly smug about it ever since. Every little coincidence—every time the landline rang, every knock at the door—was met with a sly, “Maybe it’s Gideon!” followed by a wink and your immediate groan. She’d gone out for the evening to have dinner with some of the other church women, leaving you blissfully alone.

You made the most of it.

Hair slicked back with coconut oil and a grocery-store mask slathered thick across your face—a bright pink one that smelled like strawberries and had started to peel slightly around your mouth—you’d sunk into the couch in your ugliest pajama shorts and a faded old T-shirt. Your hands and feet, propped lazily on pillows, were coated in a pale lilac polish that had dried over an hour ago. But you were too cozy, too comfortable to bother getting up.

The only light came from the TV, where reruns of Glee played in a soft loop. You weren’t even watching at this point, just zoning out, humming lines under your breath. That is, until the knock at the front door.

You jumped so hard the remote fell between the cushions. You blinked, startled. Another knock followed, louder this time, and then the doorbell.

“Jesus,” you muttered, scrambling upright.

You half-jogged, half-hobbled to the kitchen, grabbing a nearby washcloth and frantically scrubbing your face as you crossed to the door. It didn’t really help—your skin was still flushed pink and slightly sticky, and your hair was still very much slicked back in an oily mess—but at least you weren’t full-blown gooey.

You cracked open the front door, expecting maybe a neighbor or a package drop-off.

Instead, standing there awkwardly on the porch, was Gideon Gemstone. He wore a dark coat over a white knit sweater that looked expensive and soft, like something straight out of a catalog. His hands were stuffed into the sleeves, clutching a folded item of clothing.

“I just came to drop this off,” he said quickly, voice low and a little too rehearsed. “My mom said your mom left it the other day.”

You blinked. “Seems a little late.” You glanced toward the wall clock behind you. 7:21pm. “But thank you."

Gideon’s ears turned red immediately, and his cheeks weren’t far behind.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, clearing his throat. “I, uh… I was in the area. Got a little… sidetracked.”

What he didn’t say: that he’d left the house at 3:00 sharp with every intention of dropping off the sweater, then spent four full hours driving loops around town with sweaty palms and a rapidly spiraling internal monologue. He’d gone from confident to mortified to hopeful to maybe this is a mistake and back again at least seven times before finally pulling into your driveway.

You eyed him for a moment, shifting your weight onto your heels. “You okay?”

He gave a short laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. Just… wasn’t expecting you to answer the door like that.”

It was then that you remembered your current state.

You looked down at your shiny knees and pajama shorts, the still-wet washcloth in your hand, and the unmistakable sheen of coconut oil reflecting in the hallway light.

Your eyes went wide. “Oh my God.”

He held up a hand quickly, like that would stop the earth from swallowing either of you whole. “No, no! I didn’t mean that in a bad way. You—uh—you look fine. Comfortable. I mean, it’s your house. You can do whatever you want in your own house—”

You groaned, dragging the washcloth back over your face with a muttered, “Kill me.”

Gideon chuckled, the sound soft, warm. “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

You peered at him from behind the door. “Were you hoping I wouldn’t be home?”

He hesitated. “...Maybe a little?”

The honesty surprised you.

You blinked at him, your hand still gripping the door. “You wanna come in?” you asked, more on instinct than intention.

Gideon’s brows lifted slightly, surprised, but then he nodded with a small, almost shy smile. “Sure.”

You stepped back, letting him in, silently cursing yourself for not at least changing shirts or scrubbing the coconut oil from your hair more thoroughly. He stepped over the threshold like he was entering a museum—careful, glancing around, his hands awkward at his sides.

The scent of strawberries and drugstore skin care hung in the air. You quickly tossed the damp washcloth toward the kitchen sink and tried to act like everything was totally normal.

He stood near the couch, glancing around your living room, and then down at his shoes. As you stood there in the quiet, your eyes drifted over to the TV still playing in the background. Glee was in full swing—one of the more dramatic episodes. Quinn and Santana were mid-argument in the hallway, voices sharp before Santana shoved Quinn against the lockers. The slap came a second later, and you made a small oof sound under your breath despite having seen this particular episode over a dozen times.

Gideon looked too, brows raising. “Are they… fighting?”

“Yep,” you said, popping the ‘p.’ “It’s a whole thing. Cheating. Jealousy. Teenage rage.”

He nodded slowly. “Intense.”

You turned toward him, arms crossing lightly. “You wanna stay? See how it plays out?”

His head tilted like he was pretending to think about it, but the answer was already written across his face. “Yeah,” he said with a half-smile. “Yeah, I’ll stay.”

You plopped back down on the couch, patting the seat beside you without much thought. He hesitated only a second before sitting, careful to leave just enough space between you.

Neither of you said much else as the episode rolled on—Quinn stalking off in tears, Santana fuming, dramatic music swelling in the background. But somehow, it wasn’t awkward. Not even a little.

+++

The potatoes bubbled on the stove, steam curling into the kitchen air as you stood with your arms crossed, staring into the pot like it might give you answers. Your parents were setting the table behind you—your mom humming, your dad quietly moving plates into place with the kind of efficiency only gained through years of routine. The smell of garlic and rosemary hung low and warm in the air, wrapping around you like a wool blanket.

Then came the doorbell.

You didn’t move, but your father muttered, “I got it,” and padded to the front door in his socks.

Muffled voices followed—your dad’s low and amused, someone else’s higher, almost nervous. You turned the stove down slightly and glanced toward the hallway, just as footsteps approached.

“Someone’s here for you,” your dad called, just before Gideon came around the corner.

He stood there, holding a small bouquet of fresh wildflowers—half-wrapped in brown paper, like he’d gone to the local market instead of some chain florist. His chestnut locks were a little messy, like he’d run his hands through them one too many times before working up the courage to knock. He smiled, tentative but sure, the kind of look that made your stomach flutter just a little.

“Hi,” he said. “I was wondering if you’d want to go to dinner with me?”

You blinked, eyes darting to the bouquet and then back to him. Your mom’s eyes were practically glowing as she peeked out from the dining room, doing a terrible job of pretending she wasn’t eavesdropping.

You wiped your hands on a towel and nodded slowly, heat rising to your cheeks. “Yeah. Let me grab a sweater and shoes.”

Your mother’s smirk was palpable as you passed her—she offered no words, just a look that said I told you so without ever needing to speak.

A few minutes later, you stepped outside and followed Gideon to his truck. He opened the passenger door for you like a perfect gentleman, waiting until you were inside before closing it carefully. You settled in, placing the flowers gently on your lap.

As he got in and buckled his seatbelt, you glanced sideways at him. “My mom didn’t put you up to this, right?”

He frowned, starting the engine. “No... Should she have?”

“She does that sometimes,” you muttered, smiling despite yourself. “You’d be surprised.”

He glanced at you, a small, sideways grin playing on his lips. “Considering you’re a catch, I can see why she would.”

You laughed, caught off guard. “That was smooth.”

“I practiced it in the mirror,” he teased, pulling away from the curb.

You didn’t even bother hiding your smile as the two of you drove off into the early evening light, the bouquet cradled in your hands and something lighter than air settling in your chest.

[dolljunk]

I'm going to keep it real and say I did not buy this doll for her clothing quality. I'm genuinely shocked at how low quality the pieces are for how much I paid for her, at retail cost, and how poorly made it is.

The skirt is a kind of shapeless spandex sack attached to a sleeveless bodice with an unhemmed collar and pleather tie. I probably wouldn't have felt so aggrieved if the top and skirt were separate pieces, or if the white shirt had short sleeves attached. It's not even a matter of adding additional pieces to the sleeve, but if they had just extended the shoulder area to have attached sleeves, it probably would look okay. But without them, this outfit requires the jacket to stay on.

The jacket is just papery low quality fabric and the print on it is super fuzzy and pixelated, which makes it feels low quality to me. If the print had crisp stripes, it would help the fabric not look so low grade, but right now it's not great to look at.

Also the jacket is weirdly constructed to me as it opens in the front, it requires the belt to keep it closed, but since it isn't attached to anything, the front edges don't line up well when posed. I feel like if they didn't want a fastener on the front due to bulk, the jacket should have been constructed to be like a shirt where it velcros up the back with the front attached to each other. But it just feels poorly executed to me.

The accessories are also kind of bad to me because the packback included doesn't sit well on the doll, and I can't really pose with it due to its awkward shape and size.

The shoes are also a big miss for me as it exemplifies the issue with poorly designed object heels. I really love the front of the shoes as they're chunky, gothy kind of boots with a minimalistic feel to them. Wednesday I feel like is a sleek kind of character design so they fit well in that regard.However the mismatched object heels feel so lazy to me because the cello and scorpian aren't incorporated into the shoe design, but rather haphazrdly shoved on at the back. I feel like for a good object heel, it incorporates itself with the overal shoe design. Like the scorpion tail could have wrapped itself around the boot more, or if the front had more scorpion details like claws or segmented pieces. While the Cello heel could have incorporated more music motifs around the shoe to add texture and bring it together. But instead it just feels like some really nice, yet basic, boots had the heel haphazardly lopped off and two things shoved in the back.As for why I actually got her, I love the fact she has a unique skin tone to Mattel's current range of skin tones. I often don't like Monster High dolls that are basically human dolls but Wednesday's skin tone feels unnaturally deathly, while also keeping that tanned tone to it. As someone with tanned skin, I really think it pulls off that deathly look without sacrificing her race.I also do like the facesculpt and screening for Wednesday, since these are really important aspects for a doll for me. I'm also shocked at how nice her hair is out of the box for a Mattel product. Usually I expect to deal with ratty ends or frizzy hair, but the bangs and ends are gelled really nicely and I don't feel a need to wash her hair.I also do like that Thing can grip onto Wednesday, however since I never watched Wednesday I might wipe the stitches off to make him look more like the 60s and 90s Thing.While the price and fashion quality do drag this doll down, I think the base doll is incredibly unique and I look forward to sewing her a custom outfit and maybe customising her accessories.

[primrosepurple234]

Resident Evil headcannon

The remakes are the most accurate representation of the story, due to its grounded nature and (let's be honest with ourselves, better voice acting.) But the originals are how our main characters would tell the story to Rose. this also is a very funny explanation for Wesker being one of the more intimidating bad guys on paper, but coming off as very goofy in the original timeline, Chris would definitely tell the story like that. This also explains two more things. first the low-quality graphics, it's the persons fuzzy memory. the longer ago it was, the more fuzzy it is, the other is the bad voice acting, we've all looked back at things we've said in our younger years and cringed at them

So while were experiencing the way more bloody, emotional, and heart wrenching story in real time, somewhere in the Shadows Of Rose part of the timeline, Leon asks Rose if she's ever heard the story of how he saved the presidents daughter from a cult with the help of a suave scientist and a mysterious lady in red

[charleyad]

From grainy memories to crystal-clear recollections: The magic of iFoto's AI Video Enhancer

There's something incredibly poignant about old videos. They're like time capsules, capturing moments from the past that we can revisit whenever we want. But what if those memories are fuzzy, the resolution so poor that you can barely make out the details? That's where iFoto's AI Video Enhancer steps in, turning those grainy snippets into crystal-clear recollections without missing a beat.

Let me paint you a picture. Imagine you have a VHS tape from your fifth birthday. You remember the occasion vividly—the cake, the laughter, the claps of joy. But when you play the tape, the quality is so poor that your childhood friends are little more than blurs. It's like trying to remember a dream that's slipping away. Disheartening, isn't it?

Enter the AI Video Enhancer of iFoto. It's like having a time machine, but for your videos. I came across this gem by accident, actually. A friend had been raving about it, saying it could upscale low-quality videos to stunning 4K resolutions. I was skeptical at first. Could it really bring back the clarity of my childhood without losing the authenticity of those precious moments?

The answer, friends, is a resounding yes. I uploaded that VHS footage, and the software worked its magic. The process was fascinating to watch. Frame by frame, the AI Video Enhancer was piecing together details that had been lost to time. It was like watching my past come back to life, clearer and more vivid than ever. The joy in my mother's eyes as she sang 'Happy Birthday' to me, the way my father's hand hovered over the cake, unsure if it was time to light the candles—all of these details were suddenly sharp and clear.

But let's backtrack for a moment. You might be wondering, how does it work? The AI Video Enhancer doesn't just the pixels. It analyzes the content of the video, understanding the shapes and structures within it, then fills in the gaps. The result is a video that looks like it was shot yesterday, not decades ago. And it doesn't stop at just upscaling. It can improve the frame rate too, turning a jerky, 24FPS home movie into a smooth 30FPS clip that feels more like a professionally shot film.

Now, here's where it gets really interesting. We all have concerns about technology, especially when it comes to our personal data. I know I do. But iFoto's AI Video Enhancer is built with privacy in mind. You upload your videos, the magic happens, and then the files are deleted from their servers. It's a closed loop, ensuring that your memories stay yours and yours alone.

Using iFoto's AI Video Enhancer was an emotional experience for me. It brought back the past in a way that nothing else had been able to do. It wasn't just about improving the quality of the video; it was about the connection to my family, to my roots. I found myself sharing the enhanced videos with my siblings, watching our reactions as we saw our childhood in high definition for the first time. Laughter filled the room, and for a moment, it was like we were kids again.

So, is it worth it? Absolutely. The AI Video Enhancer isn't just about technology; it's about preserving the stories we carry with us. It's about making sure that when we look back, we can see every nuance, every smile, every tear. It's about giving those old videos a new life, a life where they can be cherished, not just by us, but by future generations.

Have you ever tried enhancing old videos with technology? What was that experience like for you? Share your thoughts and let's chat about the magic of bringing the past into the present with a little help from iFoto's AI Video Enhancer.

[allthemusic]

Week ending: 7 April

I'm hurtling towards real time - or at least closer to real time than I've been for a little while with this project, and we're getting spring-like. Perhaps that's why we're getting songs about blossom?

Cherry Pink (And Apple Blossom White) - Pérez Prado (peaked at Number 1)

I'll let you in on a secret. I have known and loved this song for some time. So you are about to get a load of gushing. Because this song rocks. If you do not know it, go listen to it. I'll wait. I could listen to this song for days.

Pérez Prado, if the name didn't give it away, is a Latin musician by trade, a bandleader from Cuba, who picked up this song, originally a French track by French-Spanish songwriter Louiguy, who also wrote La vie en rose for Édith Piaf. So it's a song with an interesting history.

I listened to the original for contrast, and it's still got quite a Spanish / Latin vibe, with a clave rhythm throughout. And lyrics! I had no clue - it's a song from 1950 about young love leading to marriage and kids, laced through with a metaphor about two trees growing together. It's slinky, with its rhythm, but still reasonably sedate.

What isn't sedate is Pérez's version! Immediately we've got blaring horns, blasting out a few brash, brassy notes, before a solo trumpet cuts through, building to a peak before woozily coming down, slurring all the way and slowing down, just minutely, so that the song threatens to lurch to a stop before continuing. If you've ever wondered what a drunk trumpet sounded like, check this out.

And then we settle into a proper sexy Latin beat, with the trumpet taking over the lines that were sung in the original, and the horns forming a sort of response to the trumpet. There's also a deep, honking horn that sometimes cuts in underneath, in a way that should be comical but kind of works. I was about to say it reminds me of a bit of Mambo No. 5, and then I looked and guess who did the original Mambo No. 5 that the Lou Bega version was based off? You guessed it, one Mr. Prado.

There's one single vocalisation in the middle, which is just a man shouting "hyuurgh". Perfect energy for the song, which keeps throwing in other little, quieter segments, before coming back to its high energy, major-key refrain. It keeps you on your toes, and honestly, it's just some of the most in-your-face brass we've had for a while, and I love it.

This is a sexy song. Imagine dancing with somebody to this, doing something slinky with your hips, pulling in close to your partner on all those woozy trumpet bits and just lingering as it slows down, almost holding your breath...

Yeah, I don't need to explain myself. This is my blog.

Prize of Gold - Joan Regan (6)

Well. Following Pérez was always going to be a tough act. But Joan really makes it easy for me to have an opinion. Because this song, I hate to say, is lame.

I'm not helped here by my particular recording, which is fuzzy and low-quality, making Joan sound like she's singing in the rain. But I think even without the rain sound, she would sound kind of glum as she starts off. And fair enough, they're not super exciting lyrics. I would be glum too, if I was singing trite nonsense like this.

I mean, we open on Why do people crave for fortune, / Everything their eyes behold? / What’s the good of fame and fortune? / Love is the prize of gold. Which is a sentiment I am behind. I too think there are more important things than money. I too think that love is pretty important. And I do think good songs to get out of it - I'm thinking in particular of the Beatles with Can't Buy Me Love with its slightly garbled but definitely anti-materialist message, or even Lorde with Royals, if you want a more recent example. But those songs have one thing in common, namely that they're fun. And this song, sadly, is not.

It's just slow, and Joan sounds kind of staid and sad. She's singing about the joys of love, but she makes them sound kind of like a reliable investment, or something, as she sings about how You have to have a heart to sing to / After all your dreams grow old and how If we have our love to cling to / We have the prize of gold. I get it, it's supposed to be romantic. But dreams growing old and having to cling to your love is hardly a glittering advertisement.

It's all a very similar tune and dynamic throughout, too, and I think that's part of the issue. I liked Cherry Pink because it kept throwing different sections at me, with different moods and different speeds and different instrumentations. And you don't get that here. Here you have lyrics - which should theoretically be an advantage for this song over Cherry Pink - and yet somehow you've made a song that says less than the instrumental did.

I'm trying to see what people saw in this, and I do think that these kind of anti-materialist "money and fame isn't the answer" songs can come about in times of economic hardship. I'm thinking of the whole punk DIY ethos, here, as well as Royals, from the depths of the financial crisis. And I guess Britain was recovering from World War II, but there was maybe still a memory of financial hardship linked to the costs of war? I mean, rationing had only ended half a year ago, so maybe this is speaking to that. Or perhaps it's more of a universal theme, beloved by grannies everywhere, and I'm talking nonsense. Who knows?

I think I've made my stance clear, and the reasons for it. Not much more needs saying, except please go listen to Cherry Pink. It's so good, a genuine ought-to-be-classic.

Favourite song of the bunch: Cherry Pink (And Apple Blossom White)

[ncityprincess]

night time routine

pairing: boyfriend Johnny x y/n

plot: just a cute lil blurb about Johnny being in love with his girlfriend that may or may not be completely self indulgent. enjoy!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!!

he knew how impotant your nighttime routine was to you.

you and Johnny had been living together for a little over a year, and throughout those 365+ days and nights, he became accustomed to your little quirks and schedules. every night at around 9:00 pm, you always had the same routine: take a steaming hot shower, brew a pot of tea, sit on the couch, and finally join him in bed.

some nights your showers were relatively quick. especially if you were extra tired and ready to call it a night. other times it was your “everything shower” as you liked to call it, and it would take you much longer. you may plop on a sheet mask for extra relaxation, and maybe even beckon Johnny to join you for an impromptu spa night. either way, Johnny knew that this was your personal quality time for yourself, and made sure to give you your space.

you were both night owls in your own ways. johnny preferred to spend his evenings playing a video game with his buddies, or maybe even work on some of his latest beats and photographs. if there was a show that piqued his interest, he would binge watch a whole season in one night. your preferred method of unwinding, however, was peace and quiet. the two of you were more than happy to coexist in your cozy little apartment.

tonight was no different than any other night, although for some reason, johnny was feeling particularly infatuated with you.

he watched from his gaming chair as you sat on the couch, curled up under your favorite pink fuzzy blanket engrossed in a book. Your glasses sat low on the bridge of your nose as you leaned your head down into the book. She must be really invested in this particular scene, he thought.

your hair was tucked away to protect it from your eventual night’s sleep, and you had on one of his giant [on you] t-shirts. he always loved to "scold" you for stealing his clothes because he thoroughly enjoyed how whiny you got. “your shirts are just extra comfy!” he truly didn't mind when you wore his clothes. in fact, he loved it. it made him feel almost...territorial over you. you were wearing his clothes, making it known that you were spoken for. all his.

Johnny took this opportunity to stare intensely at you while you were distracted by your novel. the book must have really hooked you, because you could barely tear your eyes away from it as you reached for your tea cup on the coffee table.

the longer Johnny watched you, the more his desire for you grew. with each second that passed he felt his sadistic side come out. here you were, sitting so comfortably, so innocently on a quiet evening. you had no idea what kind of evil thoughts your boyfriend was conjuring up in that head of his.

Johnny felt the familiar sensation of blood rushing to his dick. he couldn't help it! you were just so intoxicating. and the best part was, you didn't even know it. you would never be able to grasp just how much Johnny longed for you. he loved every single side of you. dressed to the nines, hoodie and leggings, acne treatments and teeth whitening strips. he loved it all.

johnny's body moved on autopilot as he got up from his chair and stalked over to where you were sitting on the couch. the sound of his actions brought you back to reality, and you flashed him a sweet smile as you looked back down at the last sentence you read. you had no idea what you were in for...

Johnny kneeled down in front of the couch and remained silent as he stared at you. you looked back up at him slightly confused and wondering what he was up to. the room was silent and you let out a puzzled laugh. "what?" Johnny said nothing as he slowly pulled your glasses off of your face and placed them on the coffee table. you questioned him again as he set your book aside face down, as to not lose your spot.

you looked up at him with big eyes, completely lost and confused as to what was going on. "do you know how fucking pretty you are?" Johnny asked in a soft tone. you could sense a bit of lust laced in his voice. "I—wha—where is this coming from?" he had effectively rendered you flustered. Johnny always had a way of making you melt without even touching you.

"I get to see you all the time, in every single form." Johnny gently pulled the blanked off of your lap and climbed onto the couch and in between your legs as he spoke in a slow, even tone. "doesn't matter if you're dolled up, fresh out of the gym, first thing in the morning. you are the most beautiful woman to ever walk this earth."

your heart was practically beating out of your chest. you were sure the look on your face was dumbfounded, because that's exactly what you were right now. "John! you...you can't just say things like that out of nowhere" you stuttered softly. Johnny was right on top of you now, looking deeply into your eyes with that signature intense stare. even after dating for all this time, you still had trouble holding eye contact with him.

"fuck, even the way you say my name is so sexy."

"baby..."

Johnny continued to set his thoughts free as he stared down at you. "everything you do is so sexy to me. and the fact that I'm the only one who gets to see all of you drives me fucking insane. only I get to be this close to you. only I can touch this beautiful body. I'm the only one who gets to hear those cute little moans you do so well."

each and every word got you more aroused. here you were with your face buried into your book not even two minutes ago. now, your boyfriend had you exactly where he wanted you: flustered underneath him.

Johnny cupped your face with his large, warm hands and brushed a thumb over your plump bottom lip. "may I?" he asked softly. "please" you breathed out. that's all he needed to hear. he leaned down to press a soft test kiss on your lips. you immediately grabbed the back of his head and kissed him hard. whenever Johnny got you this worked up it was a lot easier to show him how you felt, rather than tell him with words.

johnny's tongue brushed against yours as he deepened the kiss. he rutted against your hips once before he sat up on his knees and pulled you by your thighs so that you were laid out on your back. the look in his eyes was hungry. animalistic even. he wanted you and he wanted you now.

you bit your bottom lip as he swiftly pulled your panties down and off your legs. he groaned as he looked down at your soaked core. you started to pull his shirt off of you, but he quickly caught your hands. "nah, leave it on princess." he said with a growl. his possessive demeanor turned you on even more. he continued to hold your hands at your sides as he dove face first into your pussy. you bucked your hips in response, feeling extra sensitive. you wanted to run your hands through his hair so badly as he continued his ministrations against your buzzing clit.

"mmmm babyyyy" you moaned out, rocking your hips against his face. he slobbered on your pussy, then finally let go of one of your hands to run his own against your dripping mound. he slowly pushed his middle finger into your hole and watched you throw your head back. "that's it pretty, you just lay back and let me take care of you. gonna take care of you so good." Johnny pushed a second finger into your sopping wet hole and went back licking you. he quickly moved his head side to side, eager to get you off.

he knew you were going to cum any second now as he heard you panting loudly. he punched his fingers against your g spot a few more times before you finally let out a loud wail as you came. he smirked against your pussy, slowing down his movements as you came down from your high. Johnny sat back up on his heels and watched as your chest heaved up and down. "come up here and taste how good your pussy is, pretty girl." you quickly shot up and crashed your lips against his, moaning at the taste of your cum and his saliva.

"fuck John, that was so good." you moaned against his lips. Johnny got to work on undressing himself and chuckled darkly. "hmm, that was just the beginning, baby. lay back down for me, will ya?"

thanks for reading! please consider leaving a tip if you enjoyed the story 👑🍭

[soleilnomoon]

Hiiii! :D <3 I owe you another event request that I announced.. sitting at work, yet another late evening, and dreaming of some Ace goodness. So may I ask for an ice cream sundae, donut hole, oatmeal raisin cookie, affogato and toffee? With female reader? :D If possible with the one serving the ice cream sundae being the reader? I need lotssss of caramel and whipped cream to get me through the week! Thank you so much!!!! <3

i can’t believe it took me so long, i’m so so sorry, but!!! it’s finally here *sobs continuously* so sorry bb that i took forever, but i only like to give you guys quality writing (esp with ace, i love him) so forgive me pls thank u & ily 😭💛🥺️

3.3k words, fem reader, nsfw, 18+ mdni; only a tiny bit of angst (yay), fluff!!!! and smut!!! ace needs to do better, and reader isn't as slick as she thinks she is (but lbr, when is reader ever slick). friends 2 lovers (surprise, surprise i know who am i), feat. v cute things like oral (m receiving), oral (f receiving), a lil roughplay but nothing crazy, a lil dry humping, idk other stuff probably idr anymore ૮₍˶ •. • ⑅₎ა but i had fun writing even tho the fluff almost killed me but for u i persevered! (if u see spelling/grammar errors no u didn’t <;3)

“look how we bleed from all this wanting” — ama asantewa diaka

unease is something you’re well-acquainted with — a painful, yet comforting, reminder of things that may or may not come. its slender vines wrap meticulously around each bone in your rib cage, lying in wait as your heart beats faster. it’s a pathetic, melancholic melody; a lullaby you can never escape. anxiety pours into you slowly — poisonous and haunting, tainting the lush, untamed garden that’s grown deep inside of you; one you’ve painstakingly tended to for most of your life, where your childhood dreams remain dormant, where your fears slither around in the thick vegetation ready to strike when given the chance. everything becomes fuzzy and unbearable, but you somehow manage to inhale several large gulps of air before continuing. 

it’s not easy keeping secrets, but you do it anyway. for him — only for him. today’s no different, as this is one secret you’re more than happy to keep to yourself.

contrary to popular belief, ace is much more particular about certain things than he lets on. for whatever reason, he’s adamant on keeping his birthday hidden from his crew mates — something you don’t quite understand, but respect, nonetheless. he says it’s because he doesn’t want the fuss and awkward fanfare of celebrating, but you know there’s another reason — one possibly drenched in tragedy and grief, so you refrain from asking again.

instead, you decide to celebrate with him in private; you’re best friends, after all. and after a few months of prodding, he finally concedes, giving you free reign to do as you please. a man like ace isn’t simple to shop for; you stress over his birthday gift for weeks, desperately wanting to find something unique — something that no one else would think to give him. it keeps you up for several nights in a row, where torn pieces of paper with scratched out ideas litter the floor in your room. at a certain point you scream into your pillow, desperate to get all your frustrations out before going back to sift through your failed gift ideas.

you pass out in the middle of ranting to yourself about your own incompetence, and the idea comes to you in a dream. when you wake up the next morning, you’re a little nervous but you’re sure this might be the one gift he wasn’t expecting — the one gift that he’ll appreciate and possibly cherish.

the thought of that only serves to rattle the tiny box of nerves that sits in the middle of your stomach — the lid barely attached; the contents ready to spill at the next inconvenience that comes your way. 

ace intentionally kept vague about what he wanted as a gift; he hates the idea of people scrambling around trying to surprise him, and instead keeps his expectations low. life, it seems, has helped him learn that lesson time and time again; it’s better, in his opinion, to snuff out any residual hope — the one that lingers behind all the disappointment that tends to follow him around — before it’s too late.

still, he’s curious to see what you’ve been working so tirelessly on. you’ve kept quiet about everything, and no matter how many times he tries to pry the answers out of you, you remain steadfast and keep the secret to yourself.

he's impressed, to say the least, and a flicker of excitement courses through him as he spends the morning of his birthday obnoxiously guessing what your surprise gift is. you wave him off, tell him to stop pestering you, but he doesn’t let up. there were times when you almost told him, but he has to hand it to you — you’re incredibly determined and stubborn. 

you convince him to come off of the ship with you and explore the main town of the island your crew is visiting. he knows you’re not that interested in exploring, that you’re doing all of this to distract him; he smiles to himself in secret, away from your curious and trusting eyes, unable to come to terms with the warmth that’s taken hold of his chest, pitifully churning his insides around. if he had more sense, he’d realize it’s his nerves that have gotten the best of him; but that’s ridiculous, what would he have to be nervous about?

especially on his birthday?

while he thinks he’s being stealthy by trying to hide his emotions, you catch him several times; you don’t say much about it, instead wanting ace to fully enjoy himself unrestricted. you admire the shape of his jaw when he excitedly looks around, nearly trip when you notice how sunlight drapes itself along his freckled, light brown skin, and choke on your drink when he glances over at you. the corners of his lips quirk upward, and a small, devastating, dimpled smile crawls onto his face. 

you’re rarely rendered speechless, but your inability to function properly causes you to let go of the cup in your hand — not that it matters, really. you don’t even care that the drink splashes near your sandaled feet, nor do you notice the way ace’s brows furrow together at your sudden clumsiness. a frown works its way onto his lips while you stand there stupidly, trying to remember what it is you’re supposed to be doing.

he tilts his head and briefly wonders if maybe the heat has gotten to you — you’re usually much more with it, but today you’re quieter and spaced out. when he opens his mouth to ask if you’re okay, you simply step over the fallen drink and keep walking down the street. something about your insistence on ignoring your recent faux pas makes him laugh out loud; he doesn’t mean to, but it’s just so damn funny to him.

and while you could be mad at him for the way he can’t seem to stop laughing at you, you know that the small bout of annoyance will fizzle out shortly. you can never actually stay mad at him, even if you tried — and yes, you have tried and failed several times over.

ace eventually catches up to you and that familiar teasing grin stretches lazily along his lips as he playfully grabs your arm and pulls you towards him. you steel your features as best as you can and narrow your eyes at him; the residual embarrassment from earlier lingers obnoxiously, making you stumble over your words.

or, that’s what you tell yourself, anyway.

because if he knew that it was because it’s become increasingly difficult to be around him for extended periods of time, then you’d never hear the end of it.

the problem is: ace already knows, and has known for quite some time. he never brought it up, because then you’d find a reason to keep yourself busy and stay away from him intentionally. he’s selfish and will continue to monopolize your time however way he can, especially today. you’ve never had an issue with ace touching you before, but for some reason his skin is warmer than normal — or maybe it’s because you’re still too nervous about the gift. you know that he’ll like and appreciate anything you give him, which is why you let out a soft sigh and rummage through your purse to shove a small piece of paper into his hand.

“i wanted to wait until we got back to the ship,” you say quietly, tongue suddenly much too big for your mouth; you try pulling away from him, but ace’s grip is firm, and you’re not trying that hard anyway. “but, um… happy birthday!”

he watches you curiously before glancing down at the paper in his hand; in a cute, neat script, you’ve written: birthday coupon (1 use only). and before he can ask anything unnecessary, you explain quickly, words tumbling out of your mouth in a rush.

“basically, you have my services for exactly twenty-four hours only.”

and, as ace is constantly in a state of perpetual confusion, he glances back at you to see if this is a joke or not.

“really?”

he wants to believe you, but he also knows that you’d never actually let him have his way for a day — or, would you? now he isn’t so sure.

your usual bravado leaves you faster than you can handle, so you nod a few times and finally manage to free yourself from his hold. after giving yourself a bit of space, you realize that you can think clearly now that he isn’t so close to you.

“yes,” you say lightly, hoping that he’ll buy your false confidence as legitimate. “whatever you want me to do, i’ll do. no questions asked.” you know you’re treading dangerously, but this was the best idea you could come up with. unease finds you again when ace remains quiet — a feat for him, as he’s usually boisterous and vocal about everything — but all of that doubt dissipates when a small, sly smile appears on his face as he pockets the coupon and beckons you closer.

“thanks, let’s go.”

you don’t bother asking where, because ace has already grabbed your hand and tugs you along with him. you want to tell him that he doesn’t have to hold onto your hand like that, but you decide that you deserve a bit of selfishness too. the day passes fairly quickly — you end up eating at several places with him, purchase enough sweets to put you into a sugar-induced coma, and laugh so hard you end up in tears.

he likes seeing this side of you, the part that’s carefree and full of energy; he admires how smooth and soft your skin is and thinks it’s impossibly cute that you can’t stop sneaking glances at him. you’re not as inconspicuous as you think you are, but ace doesn’t tease you about it. already he’s had you do silly things like balance on one leg like a flamingo in the middle of the shopping plaza and cartwheel as long as you can down to the pier — the latter was him testing the waters to see if you’d really do it, but you rise to the challenge and only fall over twice.

embarrassment be damned, as long as ace is happy today that’s all that matters.

when you make it back to the ship, the sun has set, bathing the ocean and sky with a pretty mixture of bright colors. you take a moment to lean against the railing to watch the sky, mesmerized by the artistry, while ace watches you and contemplates how best to proceed with you. he’s normally much better at hiding his desire and attraction, but today he’s at his limit. he doesn’t bother looking away when you feel his gaze on you; it’s always intense, having ace’s undivided attention — and while a small voice tells you that it’s dangerous to let this tension build to a frenzied state, a much bigger voice tells you to just let go and embrace whatever happens.

it's ace who grabs your arm and tugs you with him to his cabin, locking the door behind so that no one would interrupt; and it’s ace who plucks the coupon out of his pocket again, playfully waving it around as your brain scrambles as you try to guess what he’ll request next. it should alarm you that your excitement starts to build all over again when ace plops down lazily in a nearby chair, legs spread; something compels you to move closer and before you can say anything remotely foolish, ace pulls you onto his lap.

you tell yourself that it’s purely for the sake of ensuring he has a memorable birthday, but the truth won’t let you off that easily — not when you shamelessly straddle him as your skirt rides up your thighs; not when you thread your fingers through his hair and tugging on it impatiently; and not when you softly press your lips against his and mumble something along the lines of, “hurry up and ask.”

it’s refreshing seeing you take initiative like that, so ace tosses the coupon onto the floor unceremoniously before gripping your hips firmly. that warmth from earlier comes back in full force, and suddenly you’re wondering why the both of you are still dressed. he doesn’t hesitate when he runs his tongue along your lips, and you, in response, roll your hips forward and grind down hard against his stiff cock. a dangerous game, you know — you know — but you can’t help yourself; not today, anyway.

it's you who kisses him first — clumsy and rash, but after a moment, your lips move against his with more certainty; he guides you with his tongue, heat shooting up your spine, making you pliant and eager. each time he kisses you, you have to remind yourself that it’s not another dream, that it’s actually happening. and even if, after all of this, you both go back to pretending you’re just friends, you’re sure you’ll be fine.

maybe.

you don’t dwell on that thought though, and focus on the way ace keeps rubbing his hands along your thighs — slow and tortuous, the callouses on his hands rough, but welcomed on your skin. you’re panting and whining softly, the heat radiating off his body stifling, but also addicting. he’s not sure how much longer he can hold back, and you somehow get the hint when he bucks his hips against yours, your panties already damp with arousal every time your pussy rubs against his cock.

there’s a slightly dazed look in his eyes when you managed to climb off of him without your legs giving out, and it’s his own selfishness that drives him to watch you as you take off your clothes without prompting. is it adrenaline, lust, or the intoxicating effects of ace’s presence that has you in between his legs and on your knees. when he realizes what you’re about to do, he opens his mouth to tell you that it’s not necessary, but his argument dies in his mouth and fizzles out completely when you unzip his shorts and pull out his cock.

ace inhales sharply as a warm breeze slips in from the open window and tangles itself around both of you; and, although the moon hides sleepily behind a few clouds, some of its light filters through, giving you an ethereal glow as you run your tongue along the length of his cock before wrapping your lips around the tip. it’s not often that ace finds himself powerless in front of someone, but you’ve rendered him weak beyond comprehension. you suck and swirl your tongue around, dragging it along his slit and licking off the precum that leaked out.

it invigorates you — watching him through your lashes as your hands wrap around the rest of his length, twisting and pumping mercilessly, every stifled moan giving you the encouragement to keep going. you inadvertently rub your thighs together, pussy slick with your wetness, but, surprisingly, you don’t feel ashamed about it — not when you take more of ace’s cock into your mouth, relaxing your jaw and letting him have free reign for a bit. ace juts his hips forward, feeling only a tiny bit remorseful when he sees you gag, but the determined look in your eyes tells him that you refuse to back down.

when you feel like you can’t breathe, you lick down his length and massage his balls, earning a string of unintended, slightly incoherent curse words from ace under his breath. it’s a sensitive area — and, try as he might, he can’t help but moan your name out loud, his breathing growing unsteady, making you all the more delirious and obsessed. your teeth accidentally grazes his skin and he tugs on your hair more forcefully than he means to, startling you but not for the reasons it should.

his voice is low and gruff when he speaks again. “y/n… behave.” which is all he really needs to say, because while it was an accident, something forbidden swirls around your lower abdomen, making you bold and somewhat reckless. before he can say anything else, you suck on his balls, melting his resolve and small bout of annoyance.

he wants to ask if you’re trying to kill him, but he partially knows the answer to that already. goosebumps prick his skin as you look at him equal parts mischievous and full of adoration. he’s not sure why, but he likes that he’s only ever seen you look at him like that.it makes all of this that much more intense, and he knows that after tonight he can’t go back to being just friends with you.

it’d be impossible.

you take his cock back into your mouth again, bobbing up and down, his girth still a challenge, but you take it in stride anyway. and its when you suck on his sensitive tip again that ace’s restraint finally gives out; you feel him jerk underneath you, and his cum is thick and hot as it spills into your mouth. he half expects you to spit it out, and even through that post-orgasm haze, he’s amazed when you swallow it all.

with his face flushed — from the force of the orgasm, from how he can’t seem to keep his eyes off of you, especially after you lick some of his cum off of your lips — ace runs a hand through his hair before standing up and pulling you to your feet. he kisses you again, sloppy, yet domineering; your hands work on tugging the rest of his clothes off quickly, and it doesn’t take long before he has you on your back thighs clamped around his head as he devours your pussy.

nothing can compare to the high you feel right now, hips rolling forward, shamelessly tugging on his hair roughly, moaning his name louder than you mean to. anyone passing by can hear you, the walls are thin enough, but you don’t care now. his tongue glides along your slit, your arousal spilling onto his tongue before he flicks it against your clit.

something about the way he’s handling you — as if you’re able to take whatever aggression he tosses your way, especially when he slides his fingers inside of your pussy, finger-fucking and enjoying how you’re falling apart underneath him — makes you that much more reactive to him. and when he sucks on your clit — merciless, just like you were being with him a short while ago — you don’t hold back.

your cries are music to his ears, and he knows he should tell you to keep it down, but he also likes how loud you’re being. almost as if he wants other people to hear that he’s the one making you writhe around on his bed like that. the orgasm is sudden, brutal, and life changing; a blinding light practically incapacitating you, momentarily robbing you of your vision. your chest heaves as you try to gather your thoughts; a lightheaded feeling takes over, making you shiver, your sweet whining only makes him want to keep torturing you with his tongue.

but he refrains, for now.

after pulling back, you both look at each other for a moment before you pull him down for another kiss — this one tender, sweet, and slow. ace lets himself fall further under your spell, not wanting to ask if you complied with his selfish whims because you wanted to or because of his birthday coupon. and if he did ask, you know, deep down, that you’d tell him it’s very obviously the former — that it wasn’t only his selfish whim, that you were equally to blame for letting things escalate like this. not that it matters much right now, since all you can think about, is how you don’t plan on leaving his bed for the rest of the night. and how you know you’ll be plenty sore once he’s done with you later on.

[shotorozu]

hello!! i saw that your requests were open and wanted to ask if you could do single dad! atsumu suna and sakusa falling in love with reader, like it's sort of a meet cute (or not) but the reader falls for them and the kid and happiness lskfjsdfk have a great day!!

single dad! falling for reader

character(s) : miya atsumu, suna rintarou, sakusa kiyoomi (haikyuu!!)

legend : [Y/N = your name] they/them pronouns used, timeskip au! (because,, single dads.)

headcanon type : fluff, crack and angst if you squint (x reader)

warning(s) : mentions of the character’s ex wives, the ex-wives being jerks for multiple different reasons and ways (so,, be warned. for negligence, not very detailed hitting, and cheating, but not on reader)

note(s) : me, writing for haikyuu?? wow, a surprise! also, it’s been a while since i’ve written for haikyuu so if i don’t get the characterization correctly— ESPECIALLY FOR SAKUSA, i’m sorry in advance.

»»————-　♡　————-««

miya atsumu

at first, his marriage was happy. miya atsumu— successful in his 20s, basically set for life, and with a head strong wife that gave him a wonderful daughter

he was elated when his son, genji came into this world. he wouldn’t swap him out for anyone else. and it was all good, really

until he started spotting marks on genji’s delicate skin, and he even found a large bruise on his shoulder when he was changing his shirt! he almost passed away seeing that

genji would also have a sudden fear of being alone in the house— even when his mother would stay behind to take care of him

but why though? genji’s only 4! what could’ve happened to him? he doesn’t recall hiring any babysitters.

he finally found the answer one day, when he found out that his head strong, intense wife— has been physical with him!

basically, all the love for his wife flew out the window, and he filed for a divorce— and of course, he won custody

and he assumed that his love life would stop at that— and it didn’t sound terrible. all that mattered was that his son was safe, and happy again

but this is where you come in

you work at a toy store, a small business toy store really, that sold the highest of quality only

and atsumu took genji to either replace, or fix the toy he broke a few days back. the place was recommended to him by shoyo— who also had a kid of his own

you’re just two years younger than him, eyes full of determination and care, practically the complete opposite of his ex-wife.

you put up a good conversation with him, while you fixed the toy— the two of you talking about the mutual friends, and that ‘this place should be a lot more popular.’

and also, his son did happen to take a liking to you. he seemed joyous in your presence— compared to how he was with his ex-wife

and from that moment on, the two of you would only become closer— especially when a bunch of his son’s toys started breaking magically

before atsumu knew it, he harbored something for you— the absolute angel you were to the both of them

“‘m sorry for the inconvenience,” the faux blond scratches the back of his next “didn’t know genji here was a ‘lil clumsy weasel,”

you laugh, and genji’s just staring at you with amusement, “it’s fine, genji could break his entire toy box— and i’d still fix it anyway.”

so this was the nerve wracking part, “to make up for it, would you like some coffee later? i could treat ‘ya.”

“is this yer way of askin’ Y/N—”

“shut yer mouth for a sec— uhm,” he looks at you, sheepishly

you laugh, “miya, i wouldn’t mind honestly. but i’d assume you’re busy as it is.”

“not at all!” atsumu replies, “i’ll just, drop off genji first. say yer thanks to Y/N,” atsumu looks at genji, encouraging him to say his thanks

“,,thanks for fixing my toys, Y/N.”

“no problem, genji.” you smile at the two of them when they move to leave the store, fixed toys in hand— as they wave at you before parting

“oh, Y/N?” atsumu calls out,

“yeah?”

“call me atsumu— from now on.” his cheeks are tinted pink, and he can feel genji’s eyes on him.

“oh, uhm. yeah! i’ll see you later, atsumu.”

so yeah— the two of you went out for some coffee, and before he even knew it, he was in love.

it might take him a few months to realize it though

suna rintarou

i can’t imagine him having kids for some reason 💀 but if he were to have any, he’d definitely have a daughter

rintarou himself, didn’t think he would have kids at at all, really. but the moment he was able to meet asuka— his lovely little daughter

he was hooked. he seemed a little awkward at first, not very used to caring for a child. but he was actually decent at his job

he’d sneak into his daughter’s room to hold her when she was upset— even when his wife was too knocked out to realize it, and he’d show her picture books

since she liked them a lot, even when she can’t coherently read a straight paragraph yet.

it started to concern him when he realized how little his wife was involved in the development of their daughter.

she started acting different, a little bit after she didn’t have to breastfeed asuka

and then, that’s when it happened.

“i literally can’t believe you,” he speaks when he’s packing his things, “we have a child together.”

his soon to be ex wife is on the floor, begging him to stay— but he doesn’t care. “look, the idea of you cheating wasn’t very surprising. i don’t care anymore, really. but the fact that you’ve been neglecting asuka for your selfish needs is low. i hope you’re ashamed of yourself.”

his words are so much different that his lenient, calm self. which only solidifies reality

so he leaves with asuka, not caring about the sobs that left his soon to be ex wife’s mouth.

and even though he was still angry at his wife for not being there, he’d never let it show to asuka

he’d still show her picture books, he’d still sit down and watch miraculous ladybug with her— even when she doesn’t understand it all completely

and speaking of picture books— he decided that he needed to buy more for her

so he took her to the bookstore, and he didn’t really know what he was doing. he bought all those previous books when asuka was still a newborn

now it’s a little fuzzy on what he should be looking for. colors, right? he needs a picture book that has plenty of colors.

and that’s where you come in. you’re youthful, despite looking not that far off his age, you’re humming to yourself as you fix the bookshelves

“uhm,” he calls out for your help, and you look at him in recognition “need any help? what are you looking for?”

there’s a helpful glint in your eyes, and it reminded him of what should’ve been in his ex wife’s eyes. “my daughter, likes picture books. and,, i don’t know what i’m doing.”

she’s basically a replica of him, same eye color, and same hair color. but her eyes are much more rounded, youthful.

“cute kid,” you smile when she coos at you, “the children books are this way, follow me!” you exclaim, moving to navigate your way to the children’s book isle

so it seems to be that you really know what you’re doing. most people would’ve recommended picture books with a lot of words, or just no words at all

but you’ve found the books that made asuka exclaim in happiness.

and although it’s not very obvious that rintarou’s caring to his child— he is, and you could tell. despite looking lost, and sometimes bored when you’re explaining the books.

so every 2 weeks, the father would return with his daughter, after he got back from volleyball— and you’d help them pick out on certain books.

rintarou assumed he’d never take a liking in anyone again, but,, here he is. and he doesn’t know how you’ll react to that.

but it’s worth a try— he’d try and get your number when he’d see you again

the next time you see him, the middle blocker’s alone. and he tells you that he needs more picture books for asuka, since she’s staying over at his volleyball friend’s house for a day

“Y/N,”

“yes?” you turn your head, meeting his stare. he looks well,, himself. like how he first sought out for your help a few weeks back

“,, could i get your number? y’know, just in case asuka wanted worded books in the future. you’ve helped a lot, so,,”

you smile, “is this your way of hitting on me?”

he didn’t think it was that obvious, “what?— i mean,” he fumbles to reason out, feeling a bit more awkward. because yes, he’s asking you out but,, he has the power to make things more laxed, y’know?

truthfully, you don’t know much about him. you know a lot about his daughter, sure! but you don’t know anything about her biological mother, or what happened, or why she’s not taking asuka to the bookstore

but you chose not to ask, out of respect. he’d tell you some other day. “i’m just teasing,” you smile, moving to get a small piece of paper— writing your digits on the paper, and placing it in his pocket

“i’d like to see you again,” you smile, “say hi to asuka for me.”

the middle blocker left the store in content, absolutely sure that asuka would love to see you again even when she can’t form proper sentences.

sakusa kiyoomi

didn’t think he’d be fit to be a father— but here he is

though he seems cold, he does take responsibility, and he does love and care for his child, seina

it’s not like he’ll be posting pictures of his child everywhere— i mean, even if he had a different personality, he still wouldn’t be posting his kid everywhere

but he does cherish seina, like his life depended on it. he’d still silently watch her cross out word puzzles in a messy matter, he’d silently listen to her talk about her favorite pastries

he loves her!

so that’s why it made him mad, when even after 4 years of seina being born, her mother made little to no effort in spending time with her

doesn’t matter if it was a simple gesture like tucking her in, or showing up to a birthday— she just,, never did.

it was almost as if she was ignoring seina, which causes some distraught on the child’s behalf— which passed on the negative feeling to him

like,, seina wasn’t an unbearable kid. sure, she acted up here and there, that’s an issue kiyoomi has been trying to fix on his own

but it was nothing too concerning, and it was containable. but his wife treated her like she was absolutely unbearable

and it was super strange because, she’d act normal around him, but would barely acknowledge her own daughter’s existence

so what did kiyoomi do? he confronted her, of course.

and no— his wife wasn’t cheating, and nothing tragic happened that would’ve caused her to be this way

she was just,, lazy

“so.. you gave birth and stopped caring for her? is that it?” furious was an understatement, considering that his wife forgot to make her daughter breakfast

which caused her to sneak out of the house, and ask for some breakfast from some nice neighbors.

“look, if you want nothing to do with her, just say that. i’m taking seina, and leaving.” so yeah now he’s a single father.

to say he didn’t love her was too quick, a part of him didn’t love the fact that his wife loved him, but didn’t show any sign of affection towards her daughter.

he knew it was going to fade away anyway. his feelings for his unofficial ex wife.

and i don’t think he’d plan on seeing new people, since now these days— people just like the idea of being with him

which meant that most people would’ve been scared away, or turned off if they really sat down in a conversation with him

besides the point, kiyoomi was taking his daughter to the bakery again— as she was craving new pastries, and wanted to go to the new bakery that just opened near by

and kiyoomi was like “why not ig” and took her there— but then, this is where he’d meet you for the first time

you were one of the bakers, and it’s not like he was going to pay attention to you— until you did something even HE couldn’t do

“papa, whyyyy” the whining sounding painful in his ears, as his daughter clung to the display of pastries “can’t we get moreeee??”

“seina,” he sighs, “no, we can’t.”

“but—”

“papa, you’re no fair!” her bottom lip trembles, and he could almost FEEL the judgmental stares of the other customers in the bakery

and this is where you come in, “is something the matter?”

“papa won’t.. get me more!” she stares at the selection of pastries, “i’ve been so nice but.. it’s no fair!” her eyes tear up

“don’t cry,” you bend down to blot her tears away with a tissue, “y’know, he probably has a reason, but you’re in luck— actually!” you maneuver behind the counter

you come out from behind, presenting a fresh batch of pastries— that were just right to his daughter’s liking, to the point that it shut her up entirely

“they’re on the house, today’s our opening day, so it’s the bakery’s treat!”you state in a warming matter, grabbing a paper bag to place the pastries in

kiyoomi stares at you, observing you quietly— you could feel his cold stare, even though he’s wearing a medical face mask, that covers about half of his face

you blink, not knowing what is going through his head, and you gesture to his daughter to take them

you clearly don’t know who he is— and that gives kiyoomi some sort of relief, compared to the other customers that are murmuring to each other “sakusa kiyoomi’s here with his daughter! is this what he does in his free time?”

kiyoomi takes the paper bag, giving some sort of non verbal acknowledgement, before he takes his daughter’s hand and leaves

“bye, kind person!” seina calls out to you, which catches you off guard— this causes your coworkers to coo at the girl’s words

“didn’t know sakusa’s daughter was so cute!”

and you’d assume that your interactions with the quiet stranger and his daughter would end at that, but no! life is full of surprises.

the tall masked father comes in again, a little bit before closing time— you were absolutely beat, your back feeling as if boulders were glued to the back, and your feet burning from all of the rush

“oh, what could i do for you?”

he stays quiet, but a small presence sticks behind him, and peers up to you. the face is familiar to you, so you wave “hi there! it’s nice to see you again.”

“i wanna say thanks.” her rounded eyes practically shimmer when they lay themselves on the pastries again, but she shakes her head “for the pastries! they’re very tasty.”

“i’m glad you like them, what was your favorite part of the pastry?”

“the filling! twas yummy!” she gives a toothy grin, “tell me, where ‘dya learn to bake like that?”

kiyoomi stares at the scene unfolding before him. it was.. new. unfamiliar— he hasn’t seen his daughter act like this with anyone else— besides him and his team mates. so, he simply watched.

seina babbled and babbled, much to the your amusement— and the other staff members. you listened to her with your full attention, your interest never wavering in the slightest

it’s a bit later, kiyoomi holds a tired seina in his arms— you expect him to leave the bakery, his daughter’s wishes been fulfilled, and he wouldn’t have a reason to stick around

but then he presents to you a large stack of cash “for the pastries. my,, daughter really liked them.”

your eyes widen, “sir! i told you, the pastries were on the house!” you shake your head, “either way, i can’t take this! it’s too much for some pastries!”

“no, seina insists. in fact, she’s entirely why i’m here.” his tone stays consistent, but even with the mask— you could tell that he’s smiling. “she’s well,, everything. if she’s set on something, then she’ll do everything to achieve her goal.”

you smile at the statement, “thanks for bringing her here sir..?”

kiyoomi hesitates to tell you his name for a moment, an unfamiliar, yet familiar pound in his chest rises— he chooses to not figure it out right now, considering that it would be too soon to pursue a romantic relationship.

but, if his daughter brought him here, then it must be for a reason. “kiyoomi.”

“right,” you smile, “thanks for coming here, kiyoomi. you can give me a call, if seina wants any more pastries.” you write your number on a piece of paper, and hand it to him

he doesn’t reply, but he does take the piece of paper anyway— keeping it in his pocket

and for once, he thinks that he doesn’t hate having to go to the bakery weekly., because there’ll be a warm presence there to greet him— and of course, seina.

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own hq!! and it’s characters. haikyuu!! belongs to furudate haruichi, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission :))

[lance-space-mommy]

I'm Sure You Regret Kidnapping Me

Midoriya was never one to miss school. Even if everyone made his life at Aldera Junior High hell, he still managed to show up. Midoriya’s presence was expected to say the least. When Midoriya didn’t show up for school, everyone knew something was wrong.

The teacher announced Midoriya was missing and there would be an investigation held. Any information about who was the last person to see him would be vital. They were hoping students would come forward to help.

Before that could happen the projectors in every class turned on and all other devices were shut down. Teachers were freaking out. They knew it wasn’t a power outage as the screen was on, but they didn’t want to accept the other possibility; That they were in the middle of a villain attack.

A slightly blurred video started playing. It was fuzzy, but everything could still be clearly made out. On the screen were two teens seeming to be in the middle of something serious. One looked around their age while the other looked like they were in high school. The younger had short brown hair and mysterious markings on his body. The older person had long, dark blue hair twisted into a braid. She had very flashy jewelry as well as stunning piercings.

The teacher was trying to take control of the laptop, even stepping out to ask other teachers if they were having the same issues. The school speakers also didn't seem to be working as they weren't getting any messages from the Dean of the school.

"This is taking too long," announced the girl, running her fingers through her bangs.

The guy sighed in defeat, looking at some object in his hands. "Shit, you're right. We need-."

The two looked at each other, seeming to both come to the same conclusion. Either they forgot something or realized what they needed to do to accomplish their goal.

The adults and the students didn't understand what was going on. For all they know, they were being pranked. They didn't know the people they were watching and whatever the duo was doing wasn't clear. Bakugo was unamused, his arms crossed as he glared at the screen. A couple of students were talking amongst themselves with hushed voices.

The two rush out of the room and the camera switches to the next room they enter. They are in the hallway now and the area they are in is humongous but low quality. The halls look like they never got past the spackling faze. The drywall was exposed along with spackling paste covering cracks and screws. The corridor was long and tall, showing it was a big hallway. They rush to a cracked door and the camera switches.

Aldera Junior High turns into a trainwreck when they see Midoriya appear on the screen.

The two look nervous upon entering, staying wary.

That got the teachers and Midoriya's classmates to freeze. There was no way the push-over crybaby Midoriya made people uneasy. Soon the school was just as nervous as the duo on the screen was.

"Midoriya?" called out the girl bravely, her voice very soft.

"Hey, Midoriya. We uh-," stammered the boy, looking at the girl for encouragement.

The girl opened her mouth to speak, only for no words to come out. She had to retry, finally managing to speak for the boy. "We need your help."

Midoriya on the other hand was crying, seemingly in pain as he was clutching his clothes. He was covering his face as well so no one could see what his expression was.

The guy nodded even though Midoriya wasn't looking at him. "Yeah, you're the only one that can... you know. Uh- is there anything we can do to make you feel better? So we can get you to help-."

Midoriya snapped his head upwards, his eyes red from crying as tears stained his skin. His lips trembled as he screamed at them. "Somebody sedate me!"

The two leaped back, terrified by Midoriya. Meanwhile, back at Aldera, everyone was wide-eyed with dropped jaws. There was no way Midoriya actually scared them. There was something about the unhinged screaming that sent shivers down their spines.

Midoriya never raised his voice, let alone glared at the people who bullied him relentlessly. There was no way Midoriya was absolutely losing his shit on people who wanted to actually help him. There was also something about the look in his eyes that freaked them out. Midoriya was currently held hostage, and two that were with him were also hostages. Midoriya was probably breaking under pressure. That was the scary part, Midoriya was pushed past his limits every day and he finally hit his breaking point. Midoriya was losing his shit.

"Woah, woah, woah! Izuku, I know you probably want to stab someone right now... but we gotta get out of here," sympathized the guy, stepping over.

Midoriya glared at the guy, jabbing a finger at him. "Don't patronize me! Unlike you, I feel like I'm dying. You got a quirk, use it."

People back at Aldera swallowed hard. The way Midoriya spat the word 'quirk' at the duo gave everyone chills. There was a lot of hatred dripping from Midoriya's tongue as he spoke. As much as Bakugo and his two lackeys hated to admit it, they were slightly bewildered.

While Bakugo was more stunned by Midoriya being bitter and attacking them for having a quirk, Fujii and Yasui were two other things to deal with. Fujii was shocked Midoriya could hold so much anger despite his claim he felt like he was dying. Yasui was taken aback by the fact Midoriya was being bitchy. He was clearly lashing out, defending himself while knocking the two off their high egos.

The two deflated a bit, looking at each other with a shameful look. The girl stepped forwards, bowing her head. "Look, Midoriya. We are sorry for what we said before. We were wrong."

Midoriya struggled to his feet, breathing heavily as he grabbed his gut. "Oh please, do tell. What were you wrong about?"

The girl raised her gaze to look Midoriya in the eyes. "Everything. We should have listened to you. We wouldn't have gotten into this problem if we had listened to you. Clearly, we are useless even with quirks. We shouldn't have said those things about you because you are quirkless. You're smarter and stronger than me and Ogami combined."

Back at Aldrea, you could hear a pin drop from the silence that washed over the group. The occasional noise of disbelief escaped someone's throat. There was no way that someone was bowing before Midoriya and sucking up to him. They were taking the blame and complimenting Midoriya. They were apologizing for treating him poorly because he is quirkless.

Midoriya stepped towards them, glaring at them. "Well, thank you for growing a brain Maeda, and stating the obvious. Also Ogami... I'd like to hear it from you too."

Ogami swallowed hard, bowing as well. "I apologize. What I said before was out of line. Clearly, we can’t do anything right. Besides… our quirks don’t offer us any advantage. We need you.”

Midoriya smiled, letting out a refreshed sigh. “Yes. You do.”

Bakugo stared at the screen, amused. Midoriya wasn’t playing nice and he liked that. The resistance and the lack of empathy coming from Midoriya was unmatched. Midoriya wasn’t going to tell them it was okay and forgive them. Midoriya wasn’t going to pat their shoulders and dismiss their previous fuck-up's with forgiveness. Midoriya wanted to rub it in their faces and make them wallow in their own self-incompetence. Bakugo loved it.

Midoriya made his way to the door, still clutching his abdomen. Maeda went to help him, but Midoriya shoved her off. “Don’t act like you care now. You had no problem leaving me to die back there before.”

Maeda raised her hands in defense. That was the final message before Midoriya started throwing hands with the two. No one at Aldera would’ve gotten to that point. Hell, they’d probably never gone back to him in the first place. At Aldera, the majority would rather die than admit they'd been wrong for the past two years.

A couple of Midoriya's classmates all exchanged a knowing glance. Midoriya was pissed and wasn't trying to hide it. Midoriya probably tolerated everyone that bullied him because no matter what happened, they never switched up. The group was stubborn, but they weren't fake. They weren't going to act like they magically care or go behind his back. Maeda and Ogami had proven they weren't trustworthy to Midoriya.

Midoriya reached the area they had been in and he looked at what they were doing. Midoriya squinted at the machine before turning to them.

"You both are idiots," remarked Midoriya as he crouched.

The two turned light pink as their eyes were torn away from Midoriya. When they heard him messing around with the small machine, they ignored their embarrassment and tapped into their curiosity. Midoriya was messing with wires and cords like it was common knowledge. Suddenly the door flew open.

Midoriya rose to his feet, tossing the machine aside as he had deactivated the security scanners. "Let's go."

Midoriya cracked his back before letting out a shakey breath. He looked through the door to see another endless hallway. Stepping through, Midoriya leads the way. The two follow closely behind, almost cowardly from the foreign area. Midoriya looked unbothered, making his way through without a care.

The trio's heads all snapped to a room where a crash could be heard. Midoriya is the first to move, grabbing the door handle and throwing open the door. An altercation between a doctor and a kidnapped child could be seen. The kid was kicking, crying, and attempting to scream. Unfortunately, the ducktape seemed to silence the child. Midoriya's blood boiled as he shouted out.

"Hey! Get the fuck off of them!"

The person jumped, staring at Midoriya. Maeda and Ogami hid like the cowards they were, staring at each other with wide eyes. The duo couldn't believe Midoriya had the balls to do such a thing.

Back at Aldera, the entire school was in a fit of despair. The teachers all watched in horror as Midoriya just pulled a suicidal move. Midoriya was not in good health judging by his prior cries of pain, he was in no condition to fight nor protect himself. The students were on the same page, but also equally as worried for the child who had been attacked. It seemed that whatever was going on in the mysterious place was a traumatizing nightmare.

Bakugo was undeniably stunned. Midoriya had guts and he wasn't surprised. He had always been that way since they were little kids. He always threw himself in the middle of a fight to stop it. What had caught him off guard was the anger on his face and the fact he dropped the f-bomb. Midoriya rarely cursed and when he did it wasn't anything serious. Midoriya was beyond serious and Bakugo doubted Midoriya had thought past the confrontation.

The villain threw the kid to the ground and turned to Midoriya. "What are you doing out of your cell?"

"You call what I was in a cell? Consider it a cardboard box," taunted Midoriya, staring at the person with a bored expression.

"Why you-," grunted the man, pulling out a gun and aiming right at Midoriya's face.

Midoriya didn't waver, blinking slowly as he crossed his arms.

Teachers covered their faces, feeling dread pool in their stomachs. Students followed suit, looking away in fear of the villain pulling the trigger. Bakugo refused to look away, knowing this interaction wouldn't be cut and dry. Besides, the blank look on Midoriya's face was hard to look away from despite it being so haunting.

A couple of Midoriya's other bullies watched, curious about how this would go down. Midoriya wasn't known well for defending himself so how was going going to get himself out of a gun being aimed at his face.

"Wow, merchandise like you shouldn't go to waste... but if you're planning on being difficult I can easily find someone else to replace you," sighed the villain, cocking their gun.

Midoriya tilted his head to the side. "I think that's the nicest thing I've ever been told. Being quirkless and all... I wouldn't consider myself merchandise that shouldn't be wasted."

The villain cursed themself, their gun seeming to shake a bit. "Dammit. How in the hell did a quirkless fuck like you manage to get out?"

"It's no hard task really. Even with all the shitty injections you gave me, your attempts of trapping your cattle here aren't too complex," sneered Midoriya, swallowing hard.

"If you keep running your mouth like that, I might just send a bullet between your eyes," threatened the villain steadying the gun again.

Midoriya shrugged, staring him in the eyes. "I wouldn't mind. It would probably be the first scary thing you'd do."

"Oh? Do you fear death? Is it because you're quirkless? With how you talk to me I bet you think you can make a difference in the world," ridiculed the villain, smirking as they thought they hit a nerve.

Midoriya remained quiet, his eyes twitching a bit. The villain stepped forward, the gun clearly aimed at the spot between Midoriya's eyes. "Is that what you fear? That you'll amount to nothing? Or frightened you'll disappear from the minds of others before you make something of yourself?"

Midoriya shook his head, letting out a quick chuckle as he let his face fall, void of emotion. "No. I'm not. I am happy because I want to die. I want to return to nothing."

Silence followed. The villain felt their eyes widen, their hand trembling a bit. The child on the ground stared up at Midoriya in shock, everything they just experienced being too much to process. Midoriya's teachers covered their mouths. They were horrified by what they just heard even though they should've been aware they were part of the reason why. Midoriya's classmates paled, listening to the undeniable truth. They should've taken their words, taunts, and bullying at face value. Their actions hurt people and actions have consequences. They actively hurt him, excluded him, and offered no sense of safety his entire time at this school.

Bakugo listened in horror. At this point, even if he hadn't suicide-bated Midoriya, he had been the main tormentor. His lackeys felt just as guilty. They had sided with Bakugo and have been arguably worse in certain cases. They were the ones to announce his quirklessness at Aldera when they all got accepted into the school. They would the ones to laugh and encourage others to be just as guilty by being bystanders.

The villain lowered the gun, his excitement at being in power vanishing. How could they be in power when they were doing exactly what their victim wanted them to do?

Midoriya suddenly lashed out, sending his fist into the villain's nose. The villain flew back, crashing to the floor. The villain was knocked out, unconscious.

Bakugo's jaw dropped. Midoriya's other bullies' jaws dropped. Midoriya's classmates' jaws dropped. Midoriya's peers' jaws dropped. Midoriya's teachers' jaws dropped. Everyone's jaws at Aldera Junior High were dropped.

People exclaimed their disbelief that Midoriya did a one-shot on the villain. People were hyped up, freaking out. People were crapping their pants at the information Midoriya packed a deadly punch. The school was in chaos mode with this information.

Midoriya stuck up his nose in disgust as he rubbed his knuckles. After making sure the villain was out, Midoriya rushed to the child's side.

Midoriya easily took off the ducktape, caressing the child's face like a worried parent. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

The kid didn't bother responding, rushing into Midoriya's arms to hug him. Midoriya yelped at the weight suddenly put onto his injury, but quickly hugged the child back. The child was trembling and Midoriya simply supported the kid's legs around his waist and picked the kid up. Midoriya bent down and snatched the villain's belongings before locking him in the room.

Midoriya turned his head to look at where Maeda and Ogami were hiding and pouted out his lip. "Aw, were you so scared you had to hide?" Midoriya suddenly shot them an angry glare. "Fucking cowards."

No one could disagree with Midoriya. When you compare the two both possessing a quirk and Midoriya alone without a quirk, they did seem cowardly. Midoriya got the out of the area they were originally contained in, took the lead, saved a child, and did all of that while being in immense pain.

Midoriya tossed them the key. "I'm assuming you are capable of opening locks right?"

Maeda caught the keys, nodding. She wasn't about to talk back, Midoriya knocked out a villain with one punch. For a while, the live stream wasn't anything interesting. The four made their way through the halls, freeing more and more people.

Even if the stream wasn't as interesting, the suspense was still at an all-time high. The school full of teachers and students was still anticipating an attack or another villain. There was no way this whole situation would be this easy.

Eventually, their group was up to fifteen people and was making their way through the halls. Eventually, Midoriya reaches a room and unlocks the door with a keycard he stole. The person who kidnapped him and the leader were seated in that room. Midoriya walked in a closed the door behind him.

It seemed as if time slowed down for the group back at Aldera. There was this new kind of fear that consumed them. The unknown ending of the finale. While none of the knew if these were the remaining people, the decor of the room Midoriya was in gave them the impression whoever was in there was of high authority. Midoriya was once again alone, purposely closing himself off from the group because of the kids present. Midoriya was clearly slowing down a bit as time progressed because of his injuries and pushing down his own issues for the sake of everyone else.

"I should've known you'd be a firecracker," scoffed the kidnapper, crossing his arms. "You put up a nasty fight."

Midoriya smiled innocently. "I really hope you enjoyed the broken arm and concussion."

Bakugo raised a brow, slightly surprised Midoriya fought back. Maybe Midoriya wasn't taken by surprise. If he was taken by surprise, his kidnappers clearly sucked at kidnapping. He didn't believe Midoriya could fight in an intense situation like an active kidnapping despite he had watched Midoriya win after being in a standoff with someone armed with a gun.

The leader laughed, tilting his head back for dramatics. "Aren't you entertaining! Never would have thought a quirkless teen in this day and age would have this charisma."

Midoriya's face scrunched up in disgust. "You really are a freak... Tanji Susumu. I know you've been watching, you do realize this is the end for you right?"

The leader revealed as Tanji Susumu, chuckled, "Well... I may just let you all leave without a fight if you care to sit on my lap for an hour or two."

Students were appalled by what they just heard. While it was no surprise this sicko was a pedophile, his bluntness about it was revolting. It was equally as disgusting to say that to Midoriya like it was an offer. He knew the option was to fight or to sexually please a pedophile.

Midoriya stepped forward, a faked looked of surprise on his face. "Oh, so we are negotiating now?"

Tanji smirked, seeming to believe Midoriya was considering it, and got excited. "Yes, we are."

The adults in the room grew nervous. They were blind as a bat and failed to notice the clear strain in Midoriya's smile and the hatred in his eyes. They were terrified at the thought Midoriya would give in. Bakugo knew better, Midoriya threw around emotions and words to mislead his opponent only to strike them down when they were distracted.

"Let's just make something clear," began Midoriya mysteriously. Midoriya walked forwards slowly, his smile dropping into a scowl as he spat, "I wouldn't fuck you if your dick were made out of gold."

Midoriya's tone sent shivers down everyone's spine. Bakugo smiled, genuinely fond of Midoriya's expanded vocabulary and harshness. He wanted to watch Midoriya kill this bastard. All the teachers grew excited, seeing that Midoriya never once considered taking up the offer. Midoirya's classmates were all shaking in anticipation, uneasy about what was to come.

Tanji seemed far too excited about Midoriya's abrasiveness and patted his lap in excitement. "Woohoo! You're one mouthy cunt aren't you?"

The kidnapper grinned, nodding at Tanji in agreeance. Midoriya's frown deepened as he stepped forward. Tanji continued to laugh as if Midoriya's words were the most amusing thing he's ever heard. Midoriya grunted as he sent his foot out, kicking Tanji in the throat. Tanji flew back in his seat, the air knocked out of him. His frantic breathing could be heard.

"Cunt likes to kick!" shouted Midoriya spitefully.

People jumped, yelped, cheered, and froze upon Midoriya's attack on Tanji. The bastard of a man had really gotten on everyone's nerves so no one was complaining. In all honesty, many were more impressed with how powerful Midoriya's leg was. His kick was high and fast. Many also were too busy wrapping their heads around what Midoirya had just said.

The kidnapper approached ready for round two. Midoriya narrowed his eyes and faced his body to the man. Midoriya moved forward and sent another kick to a lovely spot in between his legs.

"Get some!"

The kidnapper fell to the ground, reaching for his manhood. Midoriya stood over him mercilessly.

"Ugly bitch!"

Jaws hit the floor with Midoriya's aggressiveness. There was something so hypnotizing about it. The kick to the balls and the shouting gave them heart palpitations. They were all super excited about the fighting. After all, Midoriya was clearly winning. Some of the teachers were still trying to get over the fact Midoriya cursed like there was no tomorrow.

While many of the teenagers were excited about the fighting, they were extremely curious about where it all came from. He never showed an ounce of aggressiveness and his physical abilities in the gym never seemed to change. Midoriya never showed this side to himself so many questions they had would end up going unanswered.

Midoriya stepped on the two villains on his way to the back wall where he grabbed two knives. "You underestimated the wrong quirkless person. I hope you die a painful death."

The two groaned, struggling to get up. Tanji looked up, clutching his throat. "If you were my son, I’d beat the shit out of you."

Midoriya turned around to look at where Tanji pathetically struggled while gripping the knife. "And if I was your son, I’d slit my throat first." Midoriya flicked his wrist, sending the knife to rest right beside Tanji's hand. "Try harder."

Warry glances were exchanged. Bakugo swallowed upon seeing Midoriya's precision. Midoriya had always been seen as competition in Bakugou's eyes, but now he was serious competition. Where Midoriya's desires never wavered before, he now had the physical strength to support his goal.

Some people were freaking out that Midoriya was dangerous. Some people were amazed by his knife skills. Some were cheering for him for telling off the guy. Everyone would rather die than be that pedophile's child.

Midoriya walked out, closed the door, and punched the security panel, sealing the door shut. Letting out a deep breath, Midoriya turned to the group that had been anxiously waiting.

"Okay, let's find where they kept our things and get out of here."

The group found the storage room. Midoriya called the cops and the group all made their way out of the building. The live stream continued, but they could no longer see what was happening. Eventually, the live stream ended when the cops arrived.

When Midoriya arrived the following week after leaving the hospital and taking a mental recovery, he could immediately tell the difference.

There were a lot fewer insults as he went through his day. The underclassmen no longer whispered to one another as he passed them in the hall. His teachers treated him with respect and took him seriously. If he had a question, they actually answered it. If he had a concern, they listened.

It wasn't until Midoriya was in his second year of UA that he found out about the sudden change in behavior. He always believed it was because they knew he had been kidnapped.

Bakugo and Midoriya were munching on some spicy curry when the conversation came up. Midoriya swallowed his bite before speaking. "What did the teachers tell you when I disappeared for a week?"

"Well, they announced you were missing and there would be an investigation held. Before that even happened, the dumbass villain broadcasted you all escaping like an idiot," revealed Bakugo, scoffing before stuffing his face again.

"What! Oh god. So that's why everyone was acting weird," groaned Midoriya, covering his face in embarrassment.

Bakugo made direct eye contact with Midoriya and bluntly commented, "Half the fuckers were scared of you. The other half was all shy and guilty. Besides, you beating up the idiots and shit-talking everyone was funny."

"You think so?" inquired Midoriya, a timid smile on his face at the hidden compliment.

"Shut the hell up you damn nerd!" roared Bakugo, throwing a spoon at Midoriya.

"Wha-chan!" yelped Midoriya as he swiftly dodged the fork.

(The end! Did anyone notice my two references? One from Neon Genesis Evangelion and one from Ozark)

[koishua]

𝐋𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 ━━ 𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆

listen to winter bear by v.

kicking pebbles down the empty street on a night where only the moon is awake to accompany you through your thoughts that float by like wisps of cloud, briefly there and not the same as seconds before. you ponder over scrolling through your contacts list to call your friend to fill the silence you for once do not want to remain in, but as your thumb briskly swipes up to go through the meaningless names, your eyes catch one in particular that makes you feel breathless.

should you? in a dazed stupor, you click right at the center of the name lee heeseung. it rings two times, the call picking up three heartbeats later. his voice resonates the way you imagine a sunset to sound like, soft, sweet and melancholic. 

“you called.” he sounds pleasantly surprised, relief crawling up his skin upon hearing your sigh over the line. he questions why you would be awake at this hour of the night, though he doesn’t press further on the matter, opting to smile to himself under the secrecy of his covers, “is everything alright?”

you nod to yourself, later on realising that he could not see you. “yeah,” you let out a chuckle as you plop on the bench right on the sidewalk in front of his window. unbeknownst to you up until you take a look at your surroundings, your own two feet had brought you to heeseung, “i just wanted to hear your voice. why did you pick it up? it’s late, you’re usually fast asleep around one.”

he tosses the sheets off his head, standing straight and leaning against the headboard behind his pillow, “i was thinking about you.”

the boy on the other side of the line, so close from where you stood and yet so far away, hears your chimes and even through the less-than-real quality, he feels his heart soar, “are you still having troubles sleeping?”

“actually,” you begin, “yes, i was.” 

the cold nips at your fingertips and nose, both numb from having spent so much time uncovered in the breezy autumn weather. despite the obvious struggle, you keep one of your hands out to hold the phone closer to your ears and the other one deep in your pocket.

“do you want me to help you go to sleep or something?” you hear the faint sound of shuffling from behind the line and snap your head up towards the light that had flickered on inside his room, his silhouette casting a shadow on his thin curtains.

a smile forms on your lips with ease, the stretch of your cheeks feeling stiff, “could you sing a little, please?” 

not before long, you hear him take a deep breath and start singing in a low tone, careful to not disturb the other tenants of his house. “she looks like a blue parrot. would you come fly to me?”

it feels so much like a drape of a warm and fuzzy blanket over your shoulders, the way his voice resounds. his voice feels like a dream you never had, one that you would give everything to see, even if it was just a single time. it’s everything you imagine a loving hug, a gentle caress, a kiss on the crown of your head and a hand patting your back in a steady rhythm to lull you to slumber to feel like.

“she looks like a winter bear. you sleep so happily. i wish you good night.”

you are so in love with him; his voice, his smile, his laugh, his humor, his sweet remarks, his thoughtful nature. you are in love with everything he is in this moment of time where he sits on the edge of his bed, singing a lullaby for you at three in the morning without any complaints and being the most angelic thing you have ever met in your life.

“imagine your face saying hello to me, then all the bad days, they’re nothing to me with you.”

“heeseung?” you call his name with a content expression, feeling much calmer and mind at ease, serene and satisfied. he hums in response, “is everything alright?”

“yes, heeseung. thank you, i owe you one.” he laughs, a sound that brings so much tenderness to your heart. he clears his throat and you see his tall figure pace languidly around the space inside his room, “don’t mention it. sleep well, i’ll see you tomorrow.”

an unsaid i love you passes between the two of you in a conversation not one of you has the courage to speak of, silent and shy, opting to let small actions pass the message on in hopes of having it reach each other.

“good night, heeseung.” you put an end to the call, watching the light inside his room die down before making your way back to the safety of your own bed that must have been waiting for you for hours by now. with numb hands, you continue walking.

the chill feels oddly nice.

[writing-on-the-wahl]

What Are The Odds Part 5

(Finally)

So fun story I wrote a continuation MONTHS ago but then realized I needed more to happen before that scene…. So i wrote this… PART 5 🤗

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

—————

The knock sounded at the door several hours after Hero had shut herself in the guest bedroom. She’d tried to fall back asleep, but their conversation and her childish flight from the room had kept her from slipping into a peaceful rest.

“What?” The word was harsh and sharp. Apparently it hadn’t been long enough to let her anger dissipate.

“Make a list of things you want my sidekick to pick up from your apartment.”

Hero’s heart sank at the unspoken message: you’re going to be here for a while.

Her back slid down the door as she sank to the ground, running the odds of surviving a jump out the penthouse window.

0%

Shocker.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she pressed her hands against them, hard.

If only she hadn’t asked Villain to kidnap her.

If only she hadn’t gone to the gala.

If only she hadn’t stumbled across those files.

If only, if only....

But the only odds she could see were in the future. There was no point looking back.

She ran the odds of Villain killing her today.

7%

Not bad.

She ran the odds of him catching her if she tried to escape today.

96%

Not great.

Hero sighed and pushed off the floor to find a pen and paper.

She had a list to make.

—————

Hero shifted from foot to foot in the entry of the Villain’s penthouse apartment as Sidekick gave Villain all the updates on the campaign and how many points Politician had lost in the polls thus far due to his association with and donations from Billionaire. Villain was leaning against the kitchen doorframe, a satisfied smirk growing with each bit of news. She couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes kept flitting to her.

She’d avoided speaking to Villain all day, hiding in her room and ignoring his frequent attempts to lure her out with the promise of food and company.

Unnerved by the attention, Hero focused on the bag still clutched in Sidekick’s hand. Her own hands were uncomfortably empty as she stood there, unsure if she was supposed to be overhearing the conversation.

As Sidekick switched to discussing the declining quality of Politician’s speeches, Hero checked the odds of Politician winning, then couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. Serve him right.

The hair on the back of her neck prickled, and she ran the odds a certain golden-eyed villain was looking at her.

Yep.

Her heart fluttered for the briefest moment before she remembered why she was here. The smile fell from her face.

Hero shifted backwards, wondering if she should just return to her room and come back for the bag later.

Villain caught the movement and lifted a hand to cut off Sidekick’s breathless spiel. “Thank you, Sidekick. We can continue this in the morning.”

She nodded in understanding as she looked between Villain and Hero before extending the strap of the bag towards Hero. Hero slid the strap of the duffle onto her shoulder, shifting under its weight while Sidekick assured Villain that no one had seen her sneak into the apartment. Hero wasn’t sure how anyone could not see her in her six-inch stilettos and bright pink pencil skirt, but she kept that to herself.

Thanking Sidekick, she began to turn back down the hall that led to her room.

“Why the shampoo?”

Hero froze, the blood draining from her face at Sidekick’s query. She’d made sure to specify on her list that Sidekick bring her drugstore brand shampoo and conditioner.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Villain looking on with raised eyebrows as she mumbled something about liking the way it smelled. Heart racing, she excused herself to take a shower.

She placed her bag on the bathroom counter and pulled out her vanilla-scented shampoo, pretending not to notice expensive salon-brand shampoo in the guest bathroom.

Sometime later, she cracked open the bedroom door, her rumbling stomach relieved to find it unlocked. She slipped down the dark hall in socked feet, passing the the living room, where the half open door spilled the colorful lights from the TV into the hallway.

She kept her eye on the living room as she turned into the doorway of the kitchen.

Where she promptly collided with Villain.

Hero stumbled back against the doorframe, grasping the edge of the wood as her heart raced.

“Running away?”

The low voice sent a shiver down her spine, and her eyes shot up to where Villain’s face hovered mere inches from hers. One hand rested on the doorframe above her, trapping her in.

“No! I was just going to the kitchen.” She glanced beyond him towards the granite countertops, mahogany table, and her least favorite chair.

Villain was looking down at her with an inscrutable expression on his face.

Hero dropped her head, cheeks burning with shame as she remembered all the times Villain had knocked on her door today, offering food, sending Sidekick for her clothes…

He was unexpectedly considerate.

And she’d given him the cold shoulder all day.

She wasn’t angry anymore. She just felt hollow.

In truth, she hadn’t really been angry; she’d been afraid. Politician had made it very clear what would happen if she revealed what she’d stumbled upon. But it was easier to be angry than afraid.

“I’m sorry I was so angry,” she whispered, studying her fuzzy blue socks. It was the best she could do.

“It’s okay.” Warm fingers softly tilted her chin up. “I promised not to press you for answers and then I did. I’m sorry.”

His face was sincere, his voice regretful. Warmth spread through her.

There were questions she wanted to ask, odds she knew she should run. But all she could think about was the way his hand slipped from her chin to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Vanilla.”

“I- what??” Hero’s brain struggled to make sense of Villain’s quiet comment because somehow he was standing even closer than before.

“Your shampoo.” He fingered a strand of her long hair. “It’s nice.”

Her stomach was a menagerie of butterflies as he continued to twirl her hair between his fingertips.

She drew in a sharp breath as his smoldering eyes met hers.

His handsome features softened. “Hero…” the quiet murmur faded as his gaze moved down to her lips. His other hand slid up her shoulders and into her hair, gently cradling her head as he slanted his mouth down towards hers.

Hero leaned forward, and her eyes fluttered closed as the distance between them shrank.

A cold rush of air greeted her as Villain abruptly shifted away, his hands falling to his sides.

His voice was flat as he gestured to the kitchen. “Dinner is on a plate in the fridge.”

Then he strode past her, his bedroom door shutting with a deafening click in the silence he left behind.

It was a long time before Hero was able to drag herself to the fridge and collect the perfectly arranged plate of food.

Taglist:

@im-a-wonderling @shieldmaiden-of-gondor @watercolorfreckles @distance-does-not-matter @onestopheroxvillain @lolafaiy @chaoticgoodandi @1becky1 @tobeornottobeateacher @himynameisorla @superherosweet @brekker-by-brekkerr @crazytwentythrees @great-day-today @sunflower1000 @ill-eat-you-if-you-cross-me @selectivegeekwithstandards @chibicelloking @trantolette @sapphiques @jinpanman @genesissane @wish1bone1 @amongtheonedaisy @distractedlydistracted @kitsunesakii @glitterythief @jinx1365 @cherrychewingbrat @in-patient-princess

✨ Special thanks to @im-a-wonderling and @shieldmaiden-of-gondor for reading/editing ✨

[pa-panda-heroes]

heya! how about a scenario where shiggy accidentally hurts the reader with his quirk and like, freak tf out? angsts with lots and lots of fluff, please! ty! ♥︎

Okokok imma do my best for my first angst!! Also I added Dabi because I got a request for him a while back and I’ve wanted to write him for a bit, now <3 hope that’s okay!

I think this was a bit longer for a scenario but... I enjoyed writing it so :>

Warnings: language, mentions of violence(? Eh...)

Tomura/Dabi accidentally hurt reader with their quirks!

Tomura:

It happened accidentally. You knew that. Right? It wasn’t his fault, but his damn quirk’s fault, the one that he never asked for and the one that never allowed anyone to get close. Rather, he never let anyone get close because of it. He’ll admit he was always proud of its destructive capability as a villain, but now that it had hurt you, he wish he’d never boasted to a soul.

Twenty-three times. He had called you twenty-three times. And twenty-three times you didn’t answer. What was he to do, now? There was no stopping the decay borne from his fingertips once it had set in, and considering you wouldn’t answer your phone... it didn’t look good. Kurogiri had whisked you away before Tomura could even utter an apology, which looked to him as though Kurogiri did so in order for him not to witness your death. Kurogiri told him something about a doctor, but Tomura figured him a liar.

He couldn’t breathe. You shouldn’t have been hurt. Literally. Tomura hadn’t so much as touched you with a single finger; if anything, he was trying to protect you from the stranger grabbing you. It happened so fast, all he remembered was his quirk activating and the stranger vanishing before he heard your cry of pain and saw the skin of your arm drying out, much like he had done to that hero at U.S.J. He couldn’t tell, but it somewhat looked as though the decay was limited to just your bicep. That could’ve been hopeful thinking, of course, and he knew it.

So he sat there, all alone and hunched over on the couch in the bar, with misery and dread coursing his veins, accelerating his blood pressure to concerning levels. He had nothing to look at but his shaking palms and red shoes as he tried to even out his breathing - to no avail. Then, he felt the weight of someone sitting next to him, and instantly recognized how far the cushion next to him sunk in. And yet, he couldn’t look at you.

“Thanks for that back there,” you say quietly, afraid to startle him, but you recieve no response. “Y’know, I’m not sure what would’ve happened if my knight in shining armor hadn’t showed up!” You knew he felt guilty. Why wouldn’t he? But he shouldn’t. You wanted to convince him of that.

“Didn’t go far, huh,” you hear him mumble, nodding his head to your bandaged left arm next to him. There was no life to his voice and before you can say anything, he speaks again. “It won’t happen again. You’re not coming around anymore.”

“Hey, wait! That’s not your-“

“I’m the leader, and I say so! You can stay in the League, but you can’t... be close to me. You’ll get hurt.”

You stand up in defiance and put your hands on your hips in defense. “I’m not leaving you! First of all, I can take care of myself. Second, look at the League. We have a bloodthirsty serial killer and a cynical pyromaniac constantly lounging about, and you’re worried about some one-in-a-million freak accident happening again?” Patience was key with Tomura, and you knew that, but he could be stubborn and unreasonable, and when it came to you, stubbornly, unreasonably protective. “Besides, with the world as it is, I could get hurt doing something as mundane as taking out the trash, like I was when I was attacked!”

He finally looked at you, the look of a whipped pup on his face and while you knew he wasn’t doing it on purpose, you felt guilty for raising your voice at him. You sigh quietly and sit back down next to him, reaching for his hand and settling for his knee when he yanked it away. You snuck your arm around his shoulders and plopped your cheek on his shoulder, knowing all too well he would welcome it despite his standoffishness - and he did. Tomura didn’t pull away or push you off. But he hid his face. Your fingers on his left shoulder rubbed at it, his clavicle prominent enough you almost cringed at how thin he was. Your other hand on his leg idly toyed with the seam of his jeans, not having anything better to do.

“I’m sorry.” It was unclear as to whether he was apologizing for hurting you, or for demanding you keep your distance from him. Either way, it was undoubtedly genuine and soft.

You sat up straight and hugged your leader and lover from the side, gliding your fingers through his hair as you gently guided it to you. He hesitated slightly before burying his head into your chest and latching onto your ribcage for dear life, muttering the weakest “Don’t go, please,” anyone has ever heard. The desperation and vulnerability in his voice elicited your arms to wrap around him in a tight, warm embrace, your chin digging into his hair when you peck it, again and again and again. You stifled a giggle at how soft and ticklish his hair felt, electing to gently shush him.

“I just told you, didn’t I? I’m not going anywhere, even if you tell me to. I love you, silly.”

Dabi:

Dabi let out every curse known to mankind - and then some - as he rushed over to you, the bastard thugs the two of you had been after now burning alive and falling to the street. He would have sworn on his life you were not within range of his flames, and yet here you were, on the ground clutching your burnt leg and cringing away the searing tears of pain. Maybe you didn’t see him readying the attack and charged in? Maybe one of those thugs diverted his attack? He wasn’t sure.

“Y/n-“

What little color he had in his face drains completely, and his fingertips are already trembling.

“Dabi, I’m fine,” you tried to assure him. “It’s not that bad! I’ll just need a little first aid.” It hurt like hell, a white-hot, pulsating pain, you couldn’t lie. You just weren’t going to tell him that. It stretched from just below your knee to a hand’s length above your ankle and covered only the side of your leg, thankfully. The affected area was an awfully dark pink and honestly, it was hard to look at.

He practically scoffed at you. “Y/n, you’re fucking burnt. Don’t tell me that shit.” From the look on his face, it seemed bad.

That was the most cross he’d ever been with you, despite his brash and vulgar nature, and you couldn’t help but retreat a little as he knelt down to you and pulled his phone out of his pocket to make a call. “Y/n’s hurt, get us to the bar or something.” He grabbed your leg - surprisingly gently - and seemed to examine it. He paused as if to listen to the other end. “She’s burnt, does it matter? Just get us the hell out of here.” He must’ve called Kurogiri, as the next thing you know there’s a warp tunnel summoned next to you.

You tried standing on your own to leave, but the burn decided it didn’t want you to do so, and so you dropped back to the ground and bit your lip at the shockwaves of pain crawling up your leg. Dabi said nothing and helped you up himself, grabbing your arm and side to help you walk through the warp. Once through, he set you down on the couch, still eerily quiet, and left you there. The pain was so bad at this point, you began to think you’d faint, your head feeling fuzzy as tears run down your cheeks.

The stapeled villain returns with a bucket of ice water, towels, and what looks to be a first aid kit. But he stops for a second when he sees you hunched over with a death grip on your knee and the seat beneath you, and it takes all he has to hold it the fuck together. He’s unreasonably angry, and he’s not sure why. He wants to tell and scream, maybe at you, maybe not, he’s not sure. His quirk’s only quality was destructiveness. It was damaging not only to his enemies but also to his own body - and now, you.

He hurt you. Accident or not, he hurt you. The lump in his throat was suffocating.

Dabi knelt down and soaked a towel in the cold water before wringing it wordlessly, then gently tapping it to your leg and pulling back when you hiss. He seemed to notice it but didn’t outwardly acknowledge it and contintued to use the cold towel on your burn. As more time passed, the more convinced he became that it was a second-degree burn, meaning the second layer of your skin, the dermis, was badly burnt. He had no doubt it would scar, and at the thought the breath was pulled from his lungs. Dabi muttered a curse and suddenly rested his forehead against your knee, his right hand holding the cool towel to your leg.

“I’m sorry. It’s all my fault, fuck.” His voice was low, and if you looked hard enough, you could hear that it was forced out through a tense throat. He was nearly in tears, wasn’t he? He wasn’t an overly emotional person by any means, but the fact that his quirk hurt you, with its history, it hurt worse than if you would’ve left him for a hero. He hated himself. His quirk didn’t have a single redeeming quality, and he began to think the same of himself.

“Dabi, don’t, okay? I’ll be fine, really.” You can’t help how weak your voice sounds, being in so much pain, but you nonetheless plant a hand in his hair and rub his scalp.

Dabi lifts his head to look at you, and the look in his eyes isn’t something you’ve seen before. His free hand comes up to rest on your thigh, and you can feel it shaking. “It might scar, y/n. Don’t you get that?”

You huff. “So? If it does, I’d be pretty cool with that, all puns intended,” you try to giggle at your own pun and can practically feel him rolling his eyes, “Besides, I’d kinda match you, wouldn’t I? It’ll be like a couple’s tattoo sort of thing!”

He rests his chin atop your knee and a look that only be described as a pout crosses his features, but he says nothing and you can only smile. Dabi deadpans when you say nothing, forcing yourself to beam at him with bright eyes and a smile. “You’re a weird one, ya know that?” he muttered.

“You’re even weird for falling in love with me,” you teased after he began to work on your leg again.

“Pfft.”

[brown-little-robin]

A little gratitude list for tonight:

I got my fuzzy sweater I always sleep in back! It was in the laundry room for two days and it was low-key a little stressful but now it’s back and I’m happy :)

Actually that’s why I’m doing the gratitude list

It made me so happy I went: you know what? I should make a gratitude list. So here it is.

I went on a walk with my parents today and it was lovely. A twilight ramble around the nearby Catholic university campus with the pretty architecture & sculptures

We saw 2 woodchucks and picked some blackberries

I got to ramble a bit about Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood (my latest anime) to Dad :)

Mom and Dad have decided to go to bed earlier and that has improved MY sleep habits because it’s stressful for me to go to sleep when other people are awake, apparently. I need an hour or so of Alone Time before I sleep. So now I’m more rested!

I skimmed through the book of Hosea today and it was Exactly what I needed. I’ve been going through a low point spiritually (listless and gluttonous...) and it was so wonderful to hear God saying: look. Straying and sinning is wrong and it’s hurting you but I still love you. Come back with repentance. I have so much love for you. And by the time I reached the end my own soul was singing along with the book, “Take away all iniquity; accept what is good... we will say no more, ‘Our God,’ to the work of our hands. In you the orphan finds mercy.”

Chocolate chocolate-chip cookies!

Yesterday, a cousin came over and she brought her NINETY-YEAR-OLD Singer sewing machine and helped me sew a cloak that has been lying in pieces for over a year now. I started it with her and then the pandemic hit and also we didn’t have a sewing machine strong enough to get through the fabric I chose. (why did I choose the extremely thick brown fabric with the half-inch of fluff on it?? oh yeah, because it’ll look AWESOME when it’s done and be SO warm.) But the half-inch of fluff means that we had to shave the edges of the fabric with our sewing scissors in order for the sewing machine to get through it without tangling itself up in the fluff. We looked like we’d decimated a sheep by the time we were done. But WORTH IT. And it was such great quality time.

[aminiatureworld]

A Sea of Fragment VI

Word Count: 3.964

Warnings: Slight violence

Author’s Note: I’m back! This chapter was so enjoyable to write, I missed this series so much! Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Also yes I did see the 2.1 trailer. Scaramouche’s JP laugh my evil beloved.

After your little interlude of conversation with Scaramouche you had succumbed once more to the blinding heat that was enveloping you. Having little sense of the world around you, waking up to bits and pieces of movement only to be stolen away by the darkness again, you found yourself completely disoriented by the sight that greeted you when you finally woke up.

You were in a tent, that much was sure, though beyond that you weren’t really aware of much else. The bed that you were lying on, though slightly damp, was clean, and the top cover, which remained underneath you, was folded over neatly. There was a large table next to you, filled with what could only be medical equipment, as well as a dresser, a chair, and a bench, presumably there for medical purposes. However the high quality material of everything, the tent, the sheets, the pillow, made the whole room seem much too fancy to be a simple hospital tent.

You weren’t sure how long you lay there, too afraid to move in case the world started swimming again, when what could only be a medic walked in. The Fatui emblem was embroidered neatly above his breast pocket, but otherwise he seemed completely, almost unnervingly, normal. The only other thing of note was the Anemo vision strapped to his arm.

“Ah I see you’re awake. Good, I didn’t want to have to call the head medic in again, since she made it perfectly clear already that your case didn’t need her specific supervision. Still, when my lord Scaramouche came in shouting, she couldn’t very well say that, ignoring how banged up you were at the time.”

“Scaramouche was here?” You asked, head still slightly fuzzy.

It probably shouldn’t have been a surprise to hear that, after all you weren’t the one walking to the medical tent by yourself considering the state you were in. Still the image felt like an odd one. You figured he would’ve found someone else to do it for him. Letting this information rattle around in your mind you mutely listened as the medic asked you to hold out your arm for pulse checking, barely listening to his halfhearted small talk.

“Your pulse seems to be evening out a bit,” he finally said. “Good, you were going berserk for a little bit there. We even had to call in a healer, didn’t want you to die. Thankfully the healing seemed to help, my lord was saying something about your state being magic induced, and we were worried that there would be no effect.”

“Thank you for your concern,” you replied, knowing full well that this level of treatment was likely the result of being dragged in by a Harbinger. Still, you couldn’t help but feel somewhat grateful.

“It’s nothing. Better have you alive then a dead body on our hands after all.”

“Fair enough.”

“Still, you’ll have to take care. Your iron levels were also somewhat wonky, so we’re going to give you a week’s worth of pills for that. Come back in a week and if everything seems alright you’ll be good to go. Okay?”

“Alright.”

The medic nodded before walking out. Feeling still exhausted you flopped down on the bed. A breeze seemed to be blowing outside and a part of it came in through the slits in the tent. Letting the wind fan over you, you closed your eyes. Soon enough your thoughts swam into incoherence and you were dragged down into the realm of sleep.

 “My lord.”

Scaramouche jerked his head up from the papers he’d been half heartedly studying. Seeing the medic in front of him he immediately stretched himself up a little taller. At least this wasn’t something completely worthless.

“I assume you’re here to tell me about the condition of the person I left with you.”

“Yes, they have just woken up. Their vitals are no longer in critical condition, and they appear to be alert.”

“Good. That will be all.”

“Yes my lord.”

Scaramouche waited until the medic had left before letting his thoughts roam. You were awake, you were finally awake. Though he wanted to deny it, the relief that flooded through him made it all too apparent how worried the Harbinger had been. When you’d first woken up in his tent he had felt worried, yes, perhaps even slightly frantic. Still, he had assumed that that would be the end of it. You collapsing again had made his blood run cold in a way that rarely, if ever happened. He was Scaramouche after all. The Balladeer, the Harbinger who had no room for mercy in his heart, no time to worry about the lives of other people. After all, does the winter blizzard care about whose house it destroys? Certainly not, it only has to fulfill its goal. Yet he had cared about what was happening with you, even more than that, he’d been worried, perhaps even terrified.

Acknowledging these things left a bitter taste in Scaramouche’s mouth, but he wasn’t idiotic enough to try and deny it. Somehow you had managed to become noteworthy to him, important enough to draw such a reaction out of him. Was this some despicable side effect of your ability? No, it was unlikely. There was no use in looking for excuses or denials. What the Harbinger had to do now was figure out what to do with his predicament. He ought to crush it, to treat you as he would any other low-level lackey, he ought not to have brought you over to his personal section of the medical tents, should have had someone else carry you to the general wing. Those sorts of regrets were too late now however. He had acted out of pure panic, hadn’t even thought of the strict hierarchy that ruled all the lives of those who lived under the Tsaritsa.

Not did your aberrant status help, you who weren’t from Snezhnaya, who had no sense of authority, who had no true place amidst the Harbingers. You were merely there, a shadow that Scaramouche had hoped to command who had instead appeared to have manipulated him in some way.

Yet he couldn’t get rid of you, not now. You were still needed in some capacity, needed to tell him of the layout of the village, the location of the artifact, you had said it was a mirror. Besides, Scaramouche still wasn’t entirely sure whether or not Signora would want to inspect you, having brought you to Scaramouche’s attention in the first place. It certainly wasn’t out of the realm of possibility; Signora had a habit of going where she pleased, deriving satisfaction from the ability to draw irritation out of her fellow Harbingers. The mere idea of her sauntering in to inspect you brought a sour sort of taste to Scaramouche’s mouth. Now more than ever he loathed his coworker’s antics.

Still something had to be done, though what was still up in the air. Pondering this Scaramouche stood up. At the very least he ought to look after you, though whether this was tied into the emotions that roiled in him or simple logic he wasn’t yet sure of. At the very least there would certainly be more talking if he didn’t look on you than if he did. If there was anything that the Fatui loved it was erratic behavior. After all those who could be swayed into doing illogical things were certainly much easier to manipulate. No, better for him to make an appearance, to say that he was concerned you were on the verge of death which would have ruined his plans. This excuse in mind he stood up, urging his inner thoughts to silence as he walked out of the tent and into the afternoon sun.

The image he was greeted with upon entering your, or rather his, tent was all too reminiscent of how you had first looked in that forest where he had first met you. Face pale, a slight sheen of sweat visible on your brow, slicking your hair against your neck. Though your eyes had almost immediately snapped open upon hearing the voice of the medic they were unfocused, and for a moment it seemed as if you were squinting to make the Harbinger out.

It was a pathetic image of a person, and a mix of disgust, pity, and worry swept over Scaramouche. Silently hoping that he himself would never look so weak he sat on the only chair in the room, dismissing the medic with a wave of his hand, keeping his focus on you the whole time.

“So,” he began when you two were finally alone, “you have been saved from the teeth of death. If I had known the spectacle you were going to cause I would have never asked you to do such a thing.”

“Most visions don’t go that way,” you replied, voice husky and cracked from lack of use. “It was, it was because of the mirror.”

“You mentioned that before. This mirror, I presume it’s what we’re looking for.”

“I won’t look for it anymore,” your voice seemed to tremble slightly. “Even if my vision it was terrible. It warped the space around it, even from the future. If you were to get into the same room as it, were to try and touch it, I, I don’t know.”

“We must get a hold of it. If it is the Tsaritsa’s wish we would sacrifice a whole reserve for it.”

“How can you say such a thing?” you replied, voice quiet. The dispassionate tone sent a lance through Scaramouche, and for a moment he found himself unable to reply, knowing full well the answers he ought to be giving you, the total loyalty demanded by the archon he served.

“Still,” he finally continued, “you have showed me that you’re certainly not strong enough for this. From now on I will no longer provide you information about this mission, nor will I ask you to do anything to bring it about. All I need is a report about what you saw, if you wish you can write it yourself. There are other things that you would be better suited for.”

“What things? I don’t think you understand. I’m the only one who has seen what could happen, what seems very likely to happen based on the fragments that were lined up in front of me. The best outcome I saw was that you were unable to find it. The worst,” you took a deep breath in, “the worst outcome is that the village goes up in flames.”

“Ridiculous,” scoffed Scaramouche, feeling irritation rise up inside of him. “I thought you would be grateful to hear that you wouldn’t be required to look into the future again, instead you insult me, insult the Fatui.”

“I am glad that you aren’t going to try and force me into the future. I don’t think you could truly convince me to anyways, but I’d rather not fight about it. Still, I want to be there, to make sure that this doesn’t happen. I have to know what’s going on.”

“You don’t have to know anything. I don’t owe you information or position, you’re only here at my pleasure.”

“Yes! I am only here because you forced me to be here, only here because you asked me to do something I didn’t wish to do. And now you take the advice I give you and trample all over it! Why, why are you acting so irrational?”

“You’re the one acting irrational!” Scaramouche shot back, feeling a wave of panic shoot through him. The idea that you had managed to somehow divine the odd emotions that he was currently experiencing seemed unlikely, but that you could sense something was out of place was alarming. “I just need the report,” he pressed, feeling his voice raise in irritation, wanting this to be over.

As you stared at him, silence being your reply, the thoughts that whirled inside the Harbinger’s head seemed to get louder. Why was this suddenly so complicated? All Scaramouche’s career he had easily ordered his way around and over people. Deals were only made with other Harbingers, who quickly stepped aside to let the Balladeer do his duty. Never had someone simply refused his orders. The idea that you would do so, would turn down something so easy and to your benefit, was absolutely infuriating.

“I would like to rest a little more,” your voice finally broke through the thick silence. “I’m tired.”

“I would have gone a long time ago had you just listened to me,” Scaramouche pointed out.

“Please,” you shot him a look, “I’m not in the mood. I don’t want to fight either. I really don’t. It’s the last thing I want to do. I wanted to thank you in fact, for bringing me here rather than letting me lie on the ground or trying to slap me awake or something. But, but you just, you never listen. That’s what makes it so hard, what makes all of it so hard. You never listen so how, how are you ever supposed to hear me?”

The plaintive tone of your voice struck another blow, as Scaramouche found himself suddenly, suddenly what? He found himself leaning out of his chair, the urge to walk over to you so intense it seemed to steal the breath from his lungs. He wanted to do something, though what he wasn’t entirely sure of. To apologize? To demand? To scold? To, to console? What a stupid thing to do. Yet all these things he suddenly wanted to do. Of course he couldn’t do nay of these things, couldn’t push you any farther, couldn’t pull himself back. All he could do was lean forward, as if that might in some way convey what he was feeling.

“Is there something you want?” You asked.

“No,” Scaramouche stood up. “There is nothing more I wish to say to you.” What a lie that was.

Making his way over to the tent flap Scaramouche stopped. Quickly, almost in rebellion with his mind, he turned and walked over to you. Taking your wrist he pressed his fingers to it.

“Your pulse is still irregular,” he noted.

Spinning around and walking out of the tent the Harbinger fought the urge to scream at himself, scream for such an irrational act. Yet part of him wasn’t thinking about that at all, was instead marveling at how warm, how comfortable your hand had been in his own.

 It seemed like an hour had passed by the time your pulse managed to right itself, though surely only a few minutes must’ve passed. You held your wrist in your other hand, staring down at it, as if willing the scene that had just passed to reappear before you. What was that, what in Teyvat was that? You couldn’t make heads or tails of it, could barely acknowledge that it had indeed happened at all. Scaramouche, the Harbinger, the man who had only moments before been berating you, that Scaramouche had walked over to you and checked your pulse, held your hand in his, if only for a moment. It seemed laughable, seemed so surreal as to have been a dream, yet it had surely happened.

Of course maybe to him that had been a completely normal thing to do. After all, the medic had told you that your pulse had been irregular. Surely Scaramouche would have noticed that too. Perhaps his self-righteousness had caused him to want to make his own judgement on the state of your health. Still that didn’t stop your heart from leaping into your throat the moment it had happened, hadn’t stopped you from feeling like you were, for very different reasons than before.

You cradled your wrist, still able to feel the slight pressure his fingers had exerted on it, as if he had somehow branded you. His fingers had been surprisingly soft, not at all rough as you had expected it. Perhaps that was only natural, you knew that he sported no sword hilt, and there were no sharpening stones in his tent, meaning in all likelihood he was a catalyst user. Still, it was unexpected. His fingers had been surprisingly gentle, his palm with which he held your hand was soft and warm. You wondered for a moment what it would be like if he were to hold your hand properly. A small part of you wondered if you might yet do so in the future.

Almost immediately you shook yourself violently, willing those thoughts out of your head. Even now the idea of doing something so domestic, so intimate, with Scaramouche seemed odd, almost heretical. He was a Harbinger, a bloodthirsty man, one who evidently had no problem with a village going up in flames. And yet, and yet…

You sighed, lying back down on the bed. You should sleep, you were exhausted. Everything was going fast, oh so fast. You couldn’t keep up, couldn’t keep up with your feelings, with Scaramouche’s logic. All you wanted to do was block it out, to sleep. As you closed your eyes one final coherent thought floated through your head. He had, despite it all, not asked you to do it again.

 You never realized you were dreaming until about halfway through your dreams. Even then you had no power to stop them, they pulled you along, like a riptide, waiting to drag you down into their depths.

You weren’t exactly sure how you got into the village, the all too familiar landscape. It was hot, and your thoughts seemed to melting along with your legs, as you tried to run towards the now blazing rooftops, yet found yourself hardly moving. Yet you kept moving forward, intent on something, though on what you weren’t sure of. Something very important to be sure. If only you could reach it.

Reaching some sort of back you shinnied your way between the burning. The flames licked at your clothes and at you, but you couldn’t feel them, they certainly weren’t any hotter than the rest of you. In fact the only side effect that seemed to be happening was how close the walls were becoming, so much so that you were barely getting through. Still you kept going, and eventually you found yourself out of the seemingly endless tunnel.

There were a few men in the distance, men who seemed to be barreling towards. Unease spiked through you, somehow you knew that whatever happened they shouldn’t catch you. Yet another part of you dismissed them as no important enough. No, this wasn’t how you wanted it to go, there was something else. As you thought that they seemed to suddenly fade away, or perhaps it was that you had suddenly found yourself somewhere else.

Walking down this road that seemed so busy and so desolate you found yourself in field. Not questioning the black sky above you, the fact that there was a field in the middle of a tiny village, you approached a figure in the middle of the field. Somehow you already knew who it would be.

You had never really thought about the space that Scaramouche took up before. He was simply there, a man, a Harbinger, a person. Just there. Now however he seemed all too small, almost puny. His head was turned to the side, so much as to be unnatural. A slight dribble of blood pooled from his mouth, and his eyes stared with the glassy intensity of the dead, the kind of stare that would forever haunt. You seemed to float above him, high, high above. Yet you wanted to lower yourself, to shake him, to see if he was just pretending. Everything felt glassy and distant, like a play that you were part of but not actively participating in. Soon enough he’d pick himself off the ground and start yelling at you. Soon. Yet someone was wailing in the distance, and for once the voice seemed eerily familiar.

 You opened your eyes, at first seeing nothing before the cloth ceiling of the tent finally revealed itself to you. Lying there, not daring to sit up or roll over or do anything, you replayed your dream. Before it had seemed so distant, so disconnected from you. Now however it close, all too close. Your back was sticky with sweat, and the sudden heaving of your chest, cause panic to flood through your mind, revealed how truly shaken you were. You had seen Scaramouche dead before, had seen his fallen frame in your visions. It had been so different then however. Then he had just been a Harbinger, just been a demanding man. Now however he was, something. Something else.

All this time you had worried about your feelings for Scaramouche, worried that they were just some figment of imagination that stemmed from your visions of the future. Perhaps that was partly the truth, perhaps those visions had indeed provided the fuse for your emotions. Yet somehow you had lit them, or more aptly somehow Scaramouche had. The image of him lying there, dead on the ground, filled you with such distress that it seemed liable to drown you. Even if these feelings were somehow made up, the result of some imagined Scaramouche in the future, some need to line yourself up with some possible path, they were still real. Painfully so, if this was a sign of anything.

Finally sick of lying in one position you sat up. Though the tent was opaque enough you could see little bits of light through the slits of the tent, and the slightly warm air had the distinct feeling of it being at least midday. Standing up you made your way, somewhat hesitantly, over to the flap of the tent. You needed to see Scaramouche, if only to try and convince him again not to go through with such a ridiculous plan. You needed to make sure that your dream didn’t become a reality.

Walking through the tented hallway you quickly ran into the same medic as before, this time pushing a tray with food on it.

“Oh good you’re up,” he said, voice slightly bored. “Maybe you’ll be able to leave tomorrow then.”

“I need to talk to Scaramouche,” you said, words tumbling out and running into one another. “It’s something of the greatest urgency.”

“I’m sorry but my lord isn’t here.”

“Isn’t here? Then, he…”

“He went off on a mission, he said if you were ready to leave before he came back to move you back into your tent tomorrow and to wait until he returned for further instructions.”

“He’s gone?”

“Yes.” The medic replied, seemingly slightly impatient.

Turning around you fell right back onto the bed. Ruining the hospital corners you ripped the blanket over your head, willing it to block out all the light. You needed to get out, you needed to go find him. Somehow you knew it wouldn’t be that easy. Even if you wanted to you doubted the medics would cross Scaramouche’s orders to keep you here until tomorrow. Even more so you had no information on what exactly he had done, though you were almost positive that he had gone to the village. Even if he hadn’t though you had to go check, go make sure. What he was doing was madness, running into a situation without fully comprehending it, what in Teyvat was he thinking?

Anxiety welled up inside you, consuming any and all thoughts you might’ve had. In their place was fear, pure distilled fear. Fear for the Harbinger that you didn’t want to die, and fear for the future that might not come to pass after all.

[bunnysuit-femboy]

End These Games

Armin x Reader

Word Count: 3.0k

Warnings: fingering, exhibitionism, mentioned masturbation - slight dub con

Summary: Reader has been watching her boyfriend play this stupid game for nearly an hour. She is in desperate need of some attention, but he is still ignoring her. Guess she’ll have to force him to pay attention to her by offering something he could never say no to.

Notes: I got inspired and wrote this in one sitting. Also, I don't know shit about Skyrim but... enjoy!

You never understood what was so intriguing about Skyrim. It was a low quality game about being an adventurer in a dangerous world. It was fun, sure, but not that much fun. It wasn’t fun enough to completely ignore your girlfriend after begging her to come over to your house. Nothing should be that much fun.

You watched from Armin’s bed as his fingers moved skillfully over the keyboard. His screen showed the game as his avatar maneuvered through the snowy woods. He talked into a headset, asking his friends where they were for the fight and where they were going next.

You had been watching your boyfriend for the last ten minutes, your face set into a permanent frown from boredom. You loved seeing him happy, but you preferred when his happiness was tied directly to you. Whether you were making him happy from the thing between your legs or from the words coming from between your lips, you didn’t care. You just loved making him happy.

You disappointedly threw your phone to the bed and slid to the edge. Armin didn’t notice anything in the room had changed, so you continued. You moved to his chair, placing your hand delicately on his shoulder before whispering sensually to him.

“Can I join you?” You asked, sweetly, your voice barely audible to the game-obsessed boy.

“Yeah,” Armin said quickly, moving back on his chair to give you enough room to join him. You grinned before swinging your leg over the boy.

He was used to you joining him while he was gaming, but never like this. He was used to you sitting on his lap, facing the screen and watching him play. You would even flick his fingers during stressful battles, much to his opposition. You would laugh as he playfully cried out, trying his hardest to keep his avatar alive on the screen, fighting battles with both you and the enemies from the game.

But, you now sat on him backwards than what he was used to. You straddled him, your chest close to his as you snuggled your face into the crook of his neck. He had his arms around your body, his fingers still moving across the keyboard. And, your arms were pressed in between your’s and his chests, bent at an awkward angle.

He continued to play, despite his initial confusion. He still talked to his friends through his headset and moved his avatar around the map. You thought sitting on his lap would be enough to calm your anxious heart, but you needed more from him. You didn’t like sharing your boyfriend’s attention with an inanimate object.

Inanimate objects couldn’t compare to you, they couldn’t make him as happy as you could.

“Armin,” You whispered into the soft skin of his neck.

“Yes, baby,” He said into the side of your head, giving a single peck to the hair above your ear.

“Remember when we first met?”

Armin smiled to himself because of course he remembered the day he met you. It wasn’t too long ago, but even if it had been a hundred years ago, he would have remembered it like it had been yesterday. He felt pity looking back on a version of himself that didn’t know true happiness yet, but he also felt warm and fuzzy remembering a time when everything you two did was new.

“Yeah,” Armin said with a grin, “I remember.”

The first time you had met Armin was purely accidental, a series of fateful events all leading towards the love of your life. You were invited to the event because of your close relation to Sasha, since you helped her study for her chemistry final exam. She wanted to pay you back for helping her get a good grade, so she invited you to Eren’s apartment for a small get-together.

At said get-together is where you met Armin.

You were awkward at first, sitting on Eren’s couch as they all played games on the tv. Sasha offered you excessive amounts of alcohol, to which you mostly accepted. Then, you drunkenly talked to everyone in the room, finally finding your way out of your own shell.

You made your way to Armin, the one person in the room you wanted to talk to more than anything. Ever since you walked into the spacious apartment, you found your eyes drawn to the blonde boy. You wanted to hear anything he could say. You wanted to be near him, you didn’t have to touch, just to feel his presence was enough.

That night made you certain that wishes came true. You talked endlessly with the boy - about anything and everything - and you even got his number before he dropped you off at your apartment. He went home thinking about you and you went home thinking about him.

It was the beginning of a cliche love story, and you liked that. You liked the boy so much that you even thought about him for the rest of night, with your hand in your pajama pants and panting breaths escaping from between your lips.

You leaned back from the boy, making eye contact with his blue eyes. You took in the sight of his up-close face, something so familiar yet so extraordinary at the same time.

“I think about that day a lot.” You smiled tiredly at Armin.

“Oh,” He said with perched eyebrows, “Why?”

You had directed the conversation to exactly where you wanted it. He was exactly where you wanted him to be. The prey making his way to the predator’s trap.

Your cheeks flushed and you looked away, feigning shyness, “No, it’s embarrassing.”

“I doubt it is.” Armin grinned. “Just tell me.”

“You promise not to make fun of me?” You tilted your head, smiling like a schoolgirl. Armin nodded, his mind no longer occupied on the game behind you. He’d rather talk to you anyway. “I have to hear you promise.”

“I promise I won’t make fun of you.”

Your grin was now gone, along with your feigned innocence. You leaned closer to the boy, your chest now flush against his own. Your hands found a new home on his sides, your fingers grazing over his ribs, feeling every bump under your fingertips.

You leaned your mouth to his ear, whispering sensually, “I masturbated to the thought of you that night. After meeting you, it hurt me, just how badly I need you - it hurts.”

Armin’s entire body fell into shock. His stomach tensed under your hands and his breathing came out ragged and broken. His lips were parted slightly, letting his breaths escape.

You knew him well enough to know what was going through his head. You knew he imagined the imagery you set before him. You knew he was thinking about you, lying all pretty on your bed, one hand down your pants and the other covering your eyes. As if you were ashamed to be unknowingly aroused by the idea of him being inside you.

He thought about the desperation in your voice as you confessed to him and he was suddenly hyper aware of your hands on him. You were so close to him, situated on his lap in the perfect position for him to hump up into the air and touch something. Something he suddenly needed as well.

“Oh,” Armin's voice came out as a whisper, “You did?”

You bit back your smile, “Yeah. I still think about it to this day. When I’m lonely. When you’re busy with class. I just think about you, and what I’d let you do to me.”

“And what would you let me do to you?”

Snap. The trap closed around the prey, much to the predator’s delight.

You looked intently into his eyes, “Whatever you’d give to me, I’d take it all.”

Armin’s thigh twitched at the sound of that. He thought about how many inches separated his cock from your entrance. And, his heart rate accelerated when he realized that it was only a few inches, maybe two or three. It would take one strong move and he could finally hear you moan out for him. But, he instead decided to work slowly.

One of Armin’s hands suddenly came to your arm, not even the slightest bit interested in the avatar running around a seemingly empty village behind you. He had his fingers wrapped gingerly around the plush of your bicep.

“Seriously,” Armin asked innocently, “You’d take anything?”

“And everything.” You stated with a glint of desperation in your voice.

Armin moved his arm under your own, his fingers now resting on your hip. You felt your chest tighten with the movement. You knew where his fingers were headed, and your heart couldn’t take the suspense of the moment.

“And,” Armin asked with a curious tilt of his head in your direction, “When do you want me?”

“All the time,” You whispered back to the boy.

It was exactly what he wanted to hear. He dragged his hand along the soft skin of your thigh, fingers digging into the skin and leaving temporary indents.

“And,” Armin said while he watched your eyes intently, “Would you let anyone else touch you this way?”

“No,” You said, “Only you. I only want you.”

Armin loved the thought of you subconsciously comparing everybody else you’ve ever been with to himself. And, he loved knowing they could never come close to him at the top of your mental list. He could even die happy knowing you would never leave him because you know that nobody would ever make you feel the same way. It didn’t matter how he treated you - though he treats you amazingly - he could destroy you mentally and you’d still come crawling back to him at the end of the day.

Armin brought his hand under the opening of your sleep shorts. His fingertips now played with the lacy fabric of your panties underneath. Even physical contact close to where you wanted it caused your core to throb desperately for more.

“Kiss me.” Armin demanded, insinuating a trade with his words. With every good kiss you gave, you’d get something you want in return.

So, you leaned forward and kissed your boyfriend. Your body moved closer to him with each second of the kiss, your back arching and your chest brushing up against his own. Your fingers, still on his sides, now dug into his skin, your nails leaving behind shallow marks to his soft skin.

The room, once filled with the sound of Armin’s mindless conversations with his friends about dragons and taverns, was now filled with the sound of lips smacking together desperately. You then pushed your tongue into his mouth to which he whined hopelessly onto your lips.

Armin’s hand made its way over the lacy panties under your shorts. His fingers brushed against your clothed core. Your boyfriend’s body lit with satisfaction at the knowledge of just how wet you were from only kissing him, sitting on his lap, and talking about how much you needed him. The wetness was already on his fingers, soaking through the thick fabric of your panties.

His fingers brushed the sensitive spot that needed him most and you moaned quietly to his mouth. His lips ate every whine you gave while his fingers brushed further into the sensitive area.

You moved closer to the boy as your hips tried to get even closer to him, desperately bucking into his hand as he teased your entrance. Despite the lack of space between you two already, you tried to connect further to both his body and hand. You wanted to feel everything he felt, you wanted to feel his body heat on top of your own.

Armin had now completely forgotten the game behind you. He wasn’t bothered by leaving his avatar in the middle of a random tavern that his friends had decided to meet up at. And, his friends weren’t bothering him through the headset, instead they all sat quiet on the other end of the call, patiently listening for your moans.

You didn’t know about the boys’ interest in your moment with Armin. And, Armin was too deeply indulged in you that the thought of muting his end of the call never crossed his mind. The boys’ made sure to mute their own ends though, right when they heard you say that first sentence of masturbating to the idea of him. They were sure the moment would progress and nothing was better than free porn, especially when the free porn was moaning so desperately into their ears.

You bit your lip, trying to quiet down your panting breaths, “Can you touch me more?” You whispered the words onto Armin’s lips. “I wanna feel you inside me.”

Armin nodded against your face, his lips finding yours before doing as you pleased. His fingers slipped past the wet fabric of your panties, pushing them to the side. His calloused fingers brushed the soaked area under the panties, dragging out a mostly quiet moan from between your lips.

“In, in,” You said desperately to his mouth, “I want them in.”

Armin smiled against your lips, “Be patient.”

You nodded and felt as his fingertips brushed delicately against the area. His fingers teasingly played with your throbbing core, only making the wetness problem worse. His middle finger leaned up towards your entrance, using the collected slick to enter without much trouble at all.

You let out a high pitched moan at the feeling of something being inside. You lazily kissed Armin’s mouth, leaving wet kisses down his jaw, neck and onto his collarbone as a silent thank you. He openly accepted the gratitude, moving his head up to allow more kisses.

You brought your hips further down, widening your straddle as best you could on the small desk chair. You opened yourself further, hoping the boy would get the memo of how badly you needed a second finger in with the first without you having to say it out loud. But, you knew Armin better than anyone, and you knew he loved to hear your hopeless pleas even if he knew what you wanted already.

“Please,” You whispered into the skin of his neck, “More.”

He listened to your pleas this time, whether because you asked so nicely or because he truly wanted to give you more, you were unsure. But, the logistics of the situation became irrelevant when he pushed the second finger into your entrance. You felt the pressure of the fullness of both fingers and let out a soft moan into his hair, trying to muffle the noise.

“I wanna hear you,” He said as he pushed the two fingers in and out of you, “If you want me to continue, tell me.”

“Please,” You cried out to him.

He loved seeing you so desperate. He loved watching just what a small part of his body could do to you. Whether it be his fingers or his tongue or even his half-hardened cock pressed against your ass while you make breakfast. He loved hearing just how badly you needed him, and only him.

You normally try to stifle your moans, hoping not to disturb a silent peace in the room. But, when Armin told you he wanted to hear you, he meant it as a bargain. If you were loud and desperate for him, he would give you something to be loud and desperate about.

And, loud and desperate was exactly what you were. You pushed your hips into his hands, trying to suck his fingers up further than what he was allowing. You let go of that mental filter in your mind and let your moans come out as they came to your throat. You sent each whine into the sensitive skin of his neck, to which he proudly continued pumping his fingers in and out of you.

The lewd noises coming from beneath your shorts could be heard throughout the entire room and even through the headset. The boys on the other end heard each squelch of your pussy, and mentally stored the sounds in their own heads. They could also hear your moans, and your desperate curses as Armin curled his fingers inside of you, finally letting his fingers hit your sweet spot.

“Armin,” You whined his name out, “I-I’m-”

“You gonna come, baby?” Armin’s voice asked sweetly, contrary to the crude words he had spoken. You nodded your head fiercely against his neck, in silent response to his question. “Then, come.”

And with that final word, you let yourself release on his fingers and in your panties. He rode out your high, letting his fingers stay put for a few moments while you tried to catch your breath against the skin of his neck. You gave the boy sweet kisses to the soft skin, silent thank-yous for what he had done for you.

“Baby,” Armin whispered as he pulled his fingers from under your shorts.

“Mhm,” You mumbled against his skin.

“Want me to fuck you?” His voice was once again sweet for such a crude question.

Your eyes snapped open, “Right now?”

You lean back and look at the boy in front of you. His blue eyes were darkened with a newfound lust from your shared moment. And, you could see he was smiling innocently, despite having just pushed you to climax only a few moments ago.

“Yes,” Armin said, “Right now.”

You nodded before nearly throwing yourself from the desk chair and off of his lap. On your way back to his bed, you ripped your shirt and shorts off before throwing yourself on top of his comforter. Once on the bed, your panties and bra made a dramatic exit as well, sliding off of your legs and arms.

Armin rose from the chair and quickly ripped the headset from his head. With the force of throwing his headset, they unplugged from the computer, much to his friends’ disappointment. Armin walked towards you, taking his clothes off as well and letting them mingle with your own on the floor. He then joined you on the bed, pulling you against him in one swift move and kissing you passionately.