#space mom would be proud

[aboujekci]

Ever get the urge to sneak onto a golf course and plant an invasive yet endangered species of plant on the green so it can’t be removed and also will grow quickly and take over everything with zero remorse?

No? Just me?

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

I've recently decided to start yoga to ease myself back into fitness, with the intent of being back on the ice by the end of the year. Tonight was my first group class. I wa really nervous and nearly talked myself out of it. My excuse was that I was tired, had a bit of tummy ache, had chores to so, but was really because I'm feeling body conscious in both appearance and knowing that I've lost all the strength and flexibility I had prior to the pandemic.

But I went anyway. It was a beginners class and it was very gentle, and there were people of shapes and sizes there. So I wasn't really out of place in a room full of people who just wanted to do yoga.

[h20]

there is something so evisceratingly painful to be visiting your successful daycare owner mother & you see one of her clients of 3 years say hello & introduced yourself happily as her daughter, register her stark shock and confusion, then minutes later when you’re out of eyeshot of them you hear her quietly saying to your mom “I had no idea you had any children?!” While your mom just laughs and refuses to say anything more on the topic 🤩

[jrueships]

sauce is a nba yb stan guys.. guys. wait. this is huge news for the sauceboy shippers (2 and a half people). everybody stfu they're going to Make. Out.

also unrelated but this damaged me on a spiritual level and i had to damage you guys too

[inbabylontheywept]

my grandpa was a good man. and it really wasnt his fault - recreationally lying to kids is a proud family tradition - but he told me, once, that cutting a worm in half resulted in two worms.

i think he said it so i'd be more morally okay with fishing? i actually dont remember the context.

point was, he told me this, and he understimated (by a very large margin) how much i liked worms. i was a worm boy. very wormy. and after hearing that, i went home, and i dug through the garden, flipped over every rock, did everything i could to gather as many worms as i could, and then i uh.

i cut them all in half. every worm i could find. all of them. with scissors.

i then took this pile of split worms, and i put them in a box with a bit of lettuce and some water and stuff and went to bed expecting to double my worms overnight. i have math autism, so i had a vague understanding that if i did this just a few times in a row, i would eventually have a completely unreasonable amount of worms.

i was very excited to become this plane's worm emperor.

(i think i was...six?)

anyway, i did not become the inheritor of the worm crown. i instead woke up to a box of dead worms and cried. a lot. i got diagnosed with panic attacks as a teenager, but i think i had them as a kid, i just had no idea what they were. i was kind of processing that a.) i had killed what i had assumed was every single worm in my yard, and thus would have no more worms, and b). i was going to like, worm hell.

(six year babylon spent a lot of time worrying about god.)

so i kind of freaked out, and i climbed a tree, because god can only smite you if you're touching the ground (?) and i sat up there mostly inconsolable until my mom came out and asked, hey, what's up? what happened?

so i explained to her that i had killed all of the worms, forever, and was also Damned, and she took me to the compost pile, and we dug for all of five seconds and found like twenty more worms.

the compost pile was full of worms.

she then told me that a). there were more worms, and we could put them back under rocks and stuff and recolonize our yard and b). that one day, i would die, and go to heaven, and be able to talk to the worms face to face. that i'd be able to tell them all that i was very sorry, and that i killed them on accident, driven only by excessive Love, and that she was positive they would forgive me because worms have six hearts and no malice.

at that point, i think i was sixty percent tear-snot by weight, and i had no choice but to gather enough worms that i could hug them. which my mom helped with. and then after that she helped me put some worms back under each rock.

and for my epilogue: i spent a significant portion of my childhood in trees. and for many years after, even when my mom didnt know i was watching, i would catch her giving the space under the rocks a light spritz with the hose. not because she loved worms.

but because she loved me.

[the-winchesters-wear-prada]

why is it literally the thought of the older, loner butch lesbian i meet last thursday my motivation not to spam text my “bestie” today?

[obxsummer]

leave me again ii // rafe cameron

pairing: rafe cameron x routledge!reader (she/her), ex!jj maybank x reader

summary: you left the cut with nowhere to go. it’s rafe cameron that finds you and shows you the life you deserved to live

warnings: sorry jj lovers, that man does not get our girl back so sad jj and probably ooc rafe but i love it when that man is soft

navigation || part one

--

Six months.

It had been six months since any of the Pogues had seen you. No social media, no sight of you around town, no letters. Nothing.

The past six months left you to do a lot of reevaluations. You’d walked aimlessly after the group had left for the dive with nothing but your backpack and phone, no destination in mind. Until you found one.

“Lost or something?”

“Fuck off, Rafe,” Your response was instant as you continued to walk without sparing him a look. The car shifted into a different gear, you guessed by the noise, before Rafe was hopping out to approach you.

“Are you okay?” When you didn’t answer, he moved in closer and grabbed your shoulder before turning you to face him. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong?”

You stared at him with the knowledge that you probably looked like a mess with the tear streaks across your cheeks. While Rafe had a lot of issues with your friends and brother, he usually stayed clear of you. Whether that was because you were close with Sarah, or what, you didn't know.

Twisting your fingers together, you dropped your gaze as tears started to build again. “You ever watch someone you love choose someone else over you, every single time?”

The question felt like a punch in the gut to Rafe. He had. His whole life he watched his dad choose Sarah. Watched his mom choose another family over him. Watched Wheezie choose another sibling over him.

“Get in, I’ve got somewhere to take you.”

Six months ago, you hopped in Rafe Cameron’s Range Rover and left The Cut behind. You didn’t question the decision, knowing you’d worry about everyone else before taking care of yourself, and that clearly didn’t work in the past. You felt horribly guilty about leaving John B with no indication whether you were okay or not, but you knew if one of them found out, JJ would be busting down the door to Rafe’s bedroom before you had a chance to say no. 

While you weren’t sure what the original intentions had been, Rafe was so different with you after bringing you back to his new house. One he’d bought after selling Tannyhill, free from the haunting of his father and the screams that echoed off the walls, he had turned it into a safe space for himself and anyone he invited in.

Things blossomed quickly and you realized the Rafe in front of you was not the bully, coke-head addict you’d once known. He was such a gentle person, and so much more attentive to you than JJ had ever been. Whether it was making you breakfast in bed before you left for the day, or prepping a warm (actually warm, like hot water you’d hadn’t had in forever) candle lit bath, or popping an expensive bottle of wine just for you to taste, he was there in ways nobody had been. You were his girl, his only girl, and you never once had to question that.

Rafe had even invited you to sit in on his investment meetings and he was slowly pulling your name into his business so you’d have a professional background to grow into. You were steadily becoming an educated little couple in his home, something he was so proud and grateful for. He had someone to lean on for advice and give him fresh eyes on new projects with no judgment or fear of anger. The two of you soaked up your bubble of peace for as long as you could before shit hit the fan. 

Little did you know, on the other side of the island with your brother, there had been absolutely no peace. John B and JJ barely spoke, everything ending in an argument when they did. Pope was sick of playing mediator, and Kie had more of less shut down out of guilt. Sarah was still searching for you, but you’d gone ghost. Cleo was treading lightly with the knowledge that everything would explode eventually. 

So, they did what they could, and dove into treasure hunting. When JJ pulled the amulet out of his pocket in the back of the Twinkie, John B’s emotions were mixed. Sure, he was stoked that he’d found the object the group was looking for, but he wished you were here. It was your birthday, and John B was inches away from losing his shit without you.

“Dude, are you okay?” Pope asked as the group stood in the office area of the house, trying to find more information on the amulet’s inscription.

John B tossed the heavy object on the desk in frustration. “No, I’m not okay! We can find decades old treasure like it’s the easiest thing ever, but we can’t find jack shit about my sister? That’s bullshit, Pope. And you know it.”

Pope knew things would be sensitive today. Even JJ woke up grouchy, which John B told him was deserved since he caused your absence in the first place. The lack of your presence weighed heavy on the group, so Pope suggested going to visit one of your favorite beach spots. 

Little did he know what he was getting himself into.

--

“Rafe!” The house was filled with your laughter as Rafe twirled you in the kitchen lighting, your favorite song playing from the interactive speaker on the counter. The two of you had spent the day together, visiting the country club for lunch before Rafe took you shopping for something to wear tonight.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Lemme love on you, it’s your birthday” He mumbled as he pressed soft kisses into your neck, hands squeezing your hips teasingly. The soft fabric of the dress he’d picked out covered your frame, the color matching your skin perfectly. 

You hummed in content, fingers holding his biceps tightly as if your knees would give out any second. “You loved on me a lot this morning.”

“Can’t help it.” Rafe’s thumb traced your bottom lip before he kissed you softly. “You make it so easy.”

The two of you got lost in each other for a few more moments, soaking up the quiet as the orange sunset started casting through the windows. Today had been the best day you’d had in so long and you were so grateful of Rafe for giving you so much patience and love.

It had taken time for you to adjust to this kind of life. You walked in here with three outfits to your name, a busted cell phone, and a stuffed animal John B won you at the town festival as kids. And Rafe embraced every bit of it, let you keep your Pogue pieces while building you a life around it that was filled with items you needed but would never ask for, all while loving you so gently.

You climbed out of his car (technically the one he’d bought you but you refused to acknowledge that), and stepped down into the soft sand below. This was your spot, the spot you came to whenever you needed to clear your head or take a moment alone. You’d shared it with Rafe shortly after everything changed, and now, it was a shared spot that you both considered special.

Rafe moved around the car to grab your hand and guide you toward the area he had organized for the two of you. A small white table had been set up with your favorite snacks and two glasses of wine, surrounded by the fluffiest blanket and pillows you’d seen. 

“Did you do this?” You squeezed his hand tighter, tears in your eyes at how sweet and thoughtful the gesture was. Your jaw dropped as the two of you walked closer; everything was thought out down to the tiny forks you loved so much being there to pick up the appetizers. 

“Course I did, baby.” Rafe kissed your temple softly and grabbed one of the glasses to hand to you before taking hold of his own. You clinked your glass against his, leaning up on your tiptoes to kiss him deeply in appreciation.

And then everything went to shit.

“What the fuck?”

Rafe’s hand tightened against your lower back, both of you looking over to see the handful of figures standing a few feet away. Your heart went to your throat went you made eye contact with your brother, whose hand was wrapped in Sarah’s. JJ stood behind him along with Kiara, Pope, and Cleo, all of them looking at you expectantly.

“Shit,” You whispered and took a step back from Rafe, eyes meeting his in dread. His expression had hardened at the sight of JJ, all the anger rushing back when he thought about how you’d been treated in the relationship, how unfair everything had been. You clocked the frustration in his gaze and placed your fingers on his cheek to redirect his focus back to you. “Don’t. I’ll handle it.”

Rafe’s jaw ticked but he didn’t argue as you slipped your wine glass back into his hand and left his side to approach the group standing in front of you. You weren’t even worried about JJ or Kie, you were worried about John B more than anything.

“Hi,” The greeting was so quiet you almost didn’t hear yourself. How do you talk to people you disappeared on six months ago?

John B’s only response was to pull you into the tightest hug he had ever given. You stumbled with the force of his body colliding with you before regaining your balance and returning the embrace. 

“You’re okay,” He repeated the words to himself as if convincing his mind that they were true before stepping back and holding your cheeks in his hands. The smile on his face was huge, and you were so so confused. “Holy shit.”

“Hi,” You laughed quietly, placing your hands on top of his. “I’m so sorry.”

John B shook his head, his thumb brushing the random tear from your cheek. “Don’t be sorry. I told you to take a break, yeah? And you did.”

You glanced back to where Rafe was surprisingly conversing with Sarah with no anger in sight. The pit in your stomach slowly disappeared as you took them in and turned your attention back to John B. “I um… there’s a lot to catch you up on, and I want to tell you. I wanna tell you all of it, JB, but-”

“And I wanna hear it,” He reassured softly. “But someone put a lot of effort into your night and I don’t wanna steal any of it.”

You were so goddamn grateful for your brother. Pulling John B into another hug, you spared the look over his shoulder to see Kiara stomping away from the beach. You tried to keep a smirk off your face but it definitely made its way through. 

Stepping back from John B, you shared hugs with Cleo and Pope, promising that you would see them soon before you were face to face with the reason you made it here in the first place. JJ looked rough. His hair was chaotic, arms thinner than you remembered, and he just looked tired.

“I don’t want your apology,” You spoke as he opened his mouth. “And it looks like you have a girlfriend to go find anyway.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” JJ replied quickly as he stared at you. “Not anymore.”

You pulled your lips in and shrugged. “Okay. I’ll see you around, JJ.”

He reached a hand out toward you when you moved to walk away. You paused just out of his reach and looked back. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry.”

You nodded. “I know. I should be thanking you actually, because if you had said it back to me that day, I wouldn’t have found something so much better.”

And with that, you walked away from JJ and the empty promises he had always given, walked away straight into the arms of someone who would give you the world and more, if you just so much as asked.

--

navigation 

[suguae]

Haunted

part one

I tried my best to tag as many people!

The long awaited part two! I'm so sorry if this doesn't live up to your guys expectations! I really felt like so much people were waiting for a part two and I've been so busy, but hopefully you all enjoy!

You were like a shot of espresso, a ray of sunlight and one would be so lucky just to even be in your presence.

That's how he saw it at least. The gummy smile that was glued on your face as you listened to Megumi's silly stories he'd make up just to entertain you.

Wherever you stepped foot, the mood would lighten drastically.

He knew that because if you were here with him right now, Megumi wouldn't be crying his heart out begging his dad to call you. Toji wouldn't be struggling to fall asleep as he looked at your side of the bed imagining you there. He wouldn't be crossing his fingers hoping that every notification on his phone would be you.

"The princess and prince got married and lived happily ever after." You smiled as Megumi watched you close the book in awe. His cheeks were painted with a light pink, "You and Daddy?" You couldn't help but giggle at cute sleepy Megumi.

"No..." You whispered, noticing his eyes getting heavy.

Toji's eyes shifted towards you and his baby boy on the shared bed, Megumi of course having one of his fits and you never being able to say no to him. His heart felt heavy, hearing the cold truth slip from your mouth.

"You've been out of it Fushiguro..."

There he was back to reality in his cold—big office. Standing in front of him was Shiu, his best and his closest employee. "Zenin." Toji corrected which caught Shiu by surprise. Toji was proud to have his wife's last name, yet here he is using his last name.

No wedding ring? Shiu thought to himself, looking at Toji’s empty fingers. But in fact his fingers were not empty, because there sat the dark purple promise ring you had gotten him for your third year anniversary. Shiu smiled to himself, he was moving on—for the better. 

“You and Y/n are doing better, I guess?” He sighs, taking a couple steps towards his boss’s desk and plopping himself on the chair in front of him. His smile fading hearing the vague no, coming from his boss. 

“She left actually, but it’s better this way.” 

“Is it?” 

“No, it’s not.” You smiled as the soft yellow light from the candle illuminated onto your face. How Toji’s heart melted when he saw that little sparkle in your eyes. “I actually love kids.” Your eyes shifted to the little stroller after Toji mentioned how stupid it was to try to go on dates as he had a whole baby. 

“It’s been rough ever since my wife passed.” 

He remembers that look on your face when he told you how recently his wife had passed. It was the first date, he brought his son and mentioned his dead wife. There was no way he would ever see you again after that. But he was wrong because you always found your way back.

“Daddy—gumi hungry!” The little boy pouted as Toji noticed the burning smell of the food. It had been way too much now, spacing out every chance he had just to think about you.

Where are you?

Are you okay?

He wonders if you’re doing better now that you left him.

Probably, right?

Wrong.

“You need to clean this place up, it’s a mess y/n.” Your mom says entering your small apartment. The tiny cans of energy drinks scattered around the place, tissues and a pile of blankets on the couch.

She sighed watching your frail body sit up from the couch, her arm wrapped around your body and she placed small kisses on your forehead.

“It’s gonna take a while to get back on his feet. When your father passed away, it took years for me to officially realize that he was gone y/n.”

That’s what hurt the most, how long was Toji willing to take to realize? What if he forgets about you?

“Go back to your daily life, my baby he will call you when he’s ready. I see the love in his eyes.” She smiled once more before bringing you closer in her embrace.

This is what you needed.

The embrace of someone else’s while your life was slowly changing.

His thumb hovered over your contact. His hands shaking as the tears swell in his eyes. It’s been well over six months since the break up.

Toji was more than ready.

He was just afraid now, afraid of the fact that the women he had a past with moved on and would reject his return.

His thumb firmly pressing the dial button as he brings his phone up towards his ear. He could feel his throat closing and his stomach churning.

“Hello?”

<- previous next part ->

taglist: @ssc7514@utarts@my1guilty1pleasures@bangchansthings@nxxun-blog@sidelnes@khaleesihavilliard@wr4inn@r0ckst4rjk@iwishigotswallowed@ryumurin@traacy-lin@aikori6@slowlyswimmingmoon@mikyapixie@dreamlessnight@maliakealoha

[jackpotsadmon]

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[noahsresources]

IN CHARACTER CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT QUESTIONS .

send an emoji/series of emojis for my muse to answer any of the following questions in character! for some questions, there are fields italicized and bolded for you to fill in with the name of a person/place/event/etc in the muse's life. please remember to fill in these spaces in order for the question to make sense! each emoji is described in case you can't see them, and they are listed alphabetically. ♡

✈️ AIRPLANE — have you traveled anywhere that helped you discover something about yourself and/or about the world?

😠 ANGRY FACE — how easy or difficult is it for you to express your emotions? if you find it difficult, what do you think is holding you back?

🎨 ARTIST PALETTE — what are some hobbies that you like to partake in? do you think they're just to pass time or to distract yourself, or do you believe some of them potentially have therapeutic outcomes for you?

🎈 BALLOON — what is something you've created and/or accomplished recently that you're proud of?

🖤 BLACK HEART — what would you say is the darkest thought you've ever experienced? what do you think caused you to have that thought? have you ever planned on or fantasized about acting on it?

🏹 BOW AND ARROW — if there's something from your past that you'd give anything to go back in time and redo, what is it?

💔 BROKEN HEART — is there anyone in your life you wish you had a better relationship with? if so, how come? what makes this person important to you?

🎄 CHRISTMAS TREE — what is your favorite holiday and why?

🌙 CRESCENT MOON — what would you say is your current biggest dream and/or career aspiration and why?

❌ CROSS MARK — how would your life be different if [name of person] had never been in it? would it be better or worse?

⚔️ CROSSED SWORDS — do you have any skills that you are absolutely grateful you have and that mean a lot to you? how do you usually use these skills? would they come in handy if someone you cared about was in trouble?

🔮 CRYSTAL BALL — what is a core memory from your childhood that you think defines you today?

🗡️ DAGGER — what is something or someone you know you can't afford to lose? how far are you willing to go to make sure you don't lose it/them?

💧 DROPLET — are you grieving something or someone? do you feel like you lost something or a part of yourself with it/them?

😶‍🌫️ FACE IN CLOUDS — is there something you're hiding from the people you love? if so, how urgent is it for them to hear it? what's holding you back from sharing it?

🍂 FALLEN LEAVES — how would you metaphorically describe your life and the journey(s) you've been on?

👻 GHOST — is there someone or something that you feel is missing from your life? do you know if there's any way to find it/them?

🩶 GRAY HEART — what kind of friend do your friends consider you to be (mom friend, uncle friend, funny friend, etc) and why? what do you think this says about your personality?

🤝 HANDSHAKE — do family or platonic relationships mean more to you? or do they mean different things to you?

❤️‍🔥 HEART ON FIRE — what angers you the most? what triggers this anger, and how do you cope with it? what does this anger feel like, if you had to describe it?

💋 KISS MARK — if you had to share a romantic kiss with a loved one, where would you share that kiss and why? are you thinking about giving this romantic kiss somewhere other than the other person's lips?

✝️ LATIN CROSS — are you a religious person? did you grow up religious? does your faith mean anything to you today?

🩵 LIGHT BLUE HEART — what do you fantasize about the most often (generally/sexually/etc)? are there any people that are significant to or that you can see in this fantasy and why?

⚡️ LIGHTNING BOLT — how has [significant event in muse's life] impacted you? what has it made you realize about yourself? about others? about the world?

💄 LIPSTICK — have you had any romantic or sexual experiences that made you realize something about yourself?

🪄 MAGIC WAND — would you describe yourself as a superstitious person (someone who believes in superstitions)? do you believe in luck?

❤️‍🩹 MENDING HEART — how strongly do you experience your emotions? does it depend on who you're interacting with and/or the context of the situation?

🎶 MUSICAL NOTES — what song lyrics do you think most accurately describe you? your journey through life? who you are as a person?

🫂 PEOPLE HUGGING — generally speaking, do you feel very supported by the people in your life? how strong and cohesive is your support system, if you have one? do you often feel like you're at the front of the line or pushed to the side by the people in your life?

❤️ RED HEART — what is/are your love language(s)? how do you use it/them to communicate your feelings about others?

💞 REVOLVING HEARTS — who and/or what are you most grateful for in your life?

🎀 RIBBON BOW — how confident are you with your physical appearance? is there anything about it that you are insecure about? is there anything about it that you are happy about or gives you confidence? how do you think people perceive you based on your physical appearance?

🧪 TEST TUBE — if you knew you were going to die tomorrow, what is one thing you absolutely have to resolve and/or do before then?

🤔 THINKING FACE — what three emotions tend to dominate your mindset? do you know why they do?

💭 THOUGHT BALLOON — is there something or someone you find yourself thinking about more often than other things? if so, why do you think you do this?

💀 SKULL — how has [name of person] 's death influenced your outlook on life, if anything?

☀️ SUN — would you describe yourself as more of an introvert or extrovert, or are you somewhere in between? how come?

🪽 WING — if you could choose to have one superpower for a day, what would it be and why? what would you do with it?

✍️ WRITING HAND — what is one thing you wish you were better at? this can be a tactical skill, social skill, hobby, etc.

[hiraethwrote]

contents : f!reader, containts spoilers, character death, mom!reader (has a son), dealing with loss, angst/slight comfort?, bittersweet, no use of y/n wc 1k an : idk what this is, but i just really love satoru and feel sentimental about him... i am not very happy with it but it's something

“mama, i don’t remember this!”

when you turn to look up, you’re staring directly at a photo you have not seen in a long time. once it sinks in just what picture it is you’re looking at, a soft smile grows on your face before meeting your son’s gaze.

no wonder he was confused, because the slightly crinkled picture he had managed to find wasn’t of him, despite the kid being nearly identical to himself. had it not been for the fact that you knew it wasn’t your son who was staring back at you on the piece of paper, it would have fooled you too.

“‘s because it’s not you, sweetheart,” you smile. “come here,” he doesn’t hesitate to scatter over with tiny steps, before you gently lift him into your lap, resting your head on his shoulder as you look at the picture together.

you had nearly forgotten the picture even existed, hid away with other tokens of your late love.

it was a rather simple picture, one from when satoru was just a child, long before you had the privilege of loving him. standing straight and proud, a young satoru was smiling at you, a toothless grin stretching so far across his face that his eyes were squeezed shut.

“it’s your daddy,” you sigh as your son leans back against you. “i think he’s a little older here than you are know.”

“he looks just like me!” excitement carrying his words.

and he did. same tufts of white hair that were always sticking in every direction. same warm smile that greeted everyone he encountered. same kind eyes that never lied.

“do you miss him?”

you turn to look at him, meeting familiar blue eyes you used to get lost in for hours on end. “every day,” you say simply, a sad smile painting your lips.

never letting your eyes leave your son’s face, you notice how his eyebrows narrow slightly and he turns his attention back to the photo. “i wish i met him.”

“me too, baby.” it came out quiet as a whisper, leaning forward to press a soft peck at his temple. “but he’s not gone gone.”

“what do you mean not gone gone?”

“well,” taking a deep breath, sensing how your eyes slowly started to turn glossy with tears. “he lives on in me, in my memory,” you say softly. “and in you,” grabbing his soft cheeks and rubbing your nose against his, causing a delightful little giggle to fill the space. “and all around.”

“all around?” he asks, the confused line between his brows deepening.

“i like to think so. for example, on sunny days i am sure he’s in the sunlight that kisses your skin, keeping you warm and safe. and you know when the wind is blowing so loud we hear it in the walls?”

“mhm,” he nods enthusiastically.

“i’m sure that’s your dad talking,” you laugh a little to yourself. “my god, how he used to talk. all the time.”

you keep looking for at the picture, reminding you of a time where you were able to enjoy the privilege of his strong arms around you, protecting you from any potential harm. it always amazed you, that despite everything he was put through, he was still soft and kind — truly one of his many brilliant qualities that he hadn’t let the world that was so cruel to him, tarnish him completely.

“he’s also in the rain,” you say, your voice falling back to a whisper when he turns to look at you again. you capture his eyes, trying to force a smile as his big eyes stare back at you with such curiosity. “you know how you’ve sometimes seen mommy just stand outside when it’s raining?” he nods. “i miss your dad more than anything, and it makes me sad sometimes. so when it rains, i like to go outside and feel the little droplets hit my face. i thinks it’s how he shows me he is still here, comforting me. sharing my pain so i don’t feel it on my own.”

you don’t even notice the shy tear that has rolled down your cheek until he reaches his small hand to gently wipe it away. “i don’t want you to be sad,” his voice is so full of compassion, wondering how such a small person could have such a big heart — he got that from satoru too.

“it’s okay to be sad sometimes,” you assure him. “it just proves that all i felt for your dad was real.”

he doesn’t seem to understand it fully, but you can’t blame him. he’s still just a kid after all. but as time pass, he'll grow up, it will all eventually make sense to him.

“mama?”

“yes, baby?”

“you’ve said before you talk to him.”

“yeah, all the time.”

“you think i can talk to him too?” your lips instantly start to tremble in an unsteady smile.

you nod slowly before pulling him closer, pressing your cheek against his. “of course! i think he would be happy to hear you talking to him.”

“where do you think he is now?” the loaded question comes out so innocently, unable to stop how you huff a breath, trying to find the right words that would give an answer a child could comprehend.

“i don’t know,” you said honestly, “but wherever he is, i hope he’s resting. that’s the least he deserves.”

with his eyes on the picture again, he gently wiggles out of your arms. his kindness steers his hand to dry more of your tears, again causing your lips to curve into a small smile.

“if it’s okay, i think i’m going to go talk to dad.”

“say hi to him from me, okay?” he nods, flashing you a grin similar to the one satoru bore in the picture in your hands. and he runs off into the garden, standing in the exact spot you so often find yourself in.

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[amorisxx]

Snickerdoodle pt. ii

pairing: Art Donaldson x reader summary: Tashi invites you and your son to lunch with her family. You meet Patrick. And you can't stop sharing your cookies with Art. warnings: smut 18+, cheating, mentions of car sex, oral sex (fem receiving because Art is a munch), adults still acting like horny teenagers, hastily proofread word count: 4.2K prev part | next part

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

Tashi does call you. She invites you to have lunch. On them.

You say no.

There’s no way you can go have lunch with the man you just fucked in a parking lot and his wife. You make up some sort of excuse, continuing to dodge her calls for a week.

Unfortunately, your karma is fast acting because you run into Tashi while picking up Kaleb from school one day. Lily and Kaleb have grown closer this school year. In any other instance, you’d be proud of your little dude for making friends, but you can’t help but side eye him when he asks to have a playdate with Lily right in front of Tashi.

Before you can properly respond, Lily is tugging on her mom’s sleeve saying “please, please, please” and Tashi is giving you an apologetic smile. You relent because to do otherwise would make you a terrible mom. Denying your son time with his friend just because you’re avoiding the consequences of your own actions would be a new low. So, you agree to bring Kaleb over that weekend. Much to your dismay, Tashi takes the opportunity to sneak in the offer of lunch again.

ᯓ

On Saturday, you find yourself on the Donaldson’s patio while Kaleb and Lily play in their picturesque backyard. Sunlight pours over the yard, engulfing everything in a warm, soft glow. Lush greenery billows out from the ground creating pillowy grass for the kids to run around through barefoot. A steady trickle of water flows over rocks into a large pond nearby. There’s a light breeze in the air, just enough to feel refreshing.

Tashi is sure to order lunch for everyone. And despite your reluctance to show, you still bring a shiny, red tin of snickerdoodle cookies for dessert. Art took to reminding the kids to finish their food before playing and to be careful near the pond. When they insist on feeding their leftover bread to the fish, he’s quick to make sure they don’t go too far. The afternoon sun settles over him as he kneels between the two, carefully pinching off pieces of breadcrumbs to gently toss into the shimmering water. You just barely hold back a small smile at the seraphic appearance of him, and when you glance back around, Tashi’s eyes meet yours with a slight smile of her own.

Despite the serene atmosphere of their home, you can’t fully relax into your chair as you nibble on your lunch. Art peeks at the way you keep fidgeting with your dress and adjusting your watch on your wrist. He subtly tries to tap you to grab your attention, but you pretend to be reaching for another mimosa to avoid the contact. You find yourself glad to have another drink, actually, because you’re feeling more nervous by the second. You sip from your glass and graciously fall into a conversation with Tashi about your baking in an effort to ignore Art. You think that maybe you’ll feel less guilty about your attraction to her husband if you appear unaffected by him.

Halfway through lunch, you meet Patrick, a tall man with dark curls and glimmering eyes. He’d sauntered over to the table with an impish grin, taking the seat across from you. They introduce him as the player Tashi is coaching and Art’s best friend. You learn that Patrick lives in their guest house. But the way he moves about the space suggests that he’s quite familiar with their home.

Patrick talks to you about his career. Says you might’ve seen him play. You give a tight smile, tell him maybe you had.

In truth, you have no idea who Patrick is.

He openly flirts with you. Says he’s single. You don’t miss the glare Tashi shoots him. Art, however, is laser focused on your reaction to Patrick, searching your face each time he makes a suggestive comment.

You’re shaking your head in restrained amusement at Patrick when Kaleb runs to the table for a sip of lemonade. He spills it in his haste to get back to Lily, and you use a napkin to dab his chin before he pushes your hand away, grumbling mom under his breath. When he’s out of earshot, Patrick casually tells you that you look too good to have a kid Kaleb’s age.

You’re too stunned to speak. Art reaches across the table and slaps the cookie that he’s stolen out of Patrick’s hand, which makes him glare at Art, while Tashi groans in annoyance.

She massages her right temple and sighs, “I apologize for Patrick. He lacks basic home training.” He only grins at her comment.

When he pours himself a glass of sparkling champagne, she snatches it from him, muttering about not fucking up his meal plan. Patrick licks the droplets of champagne that landed on his fingers. She looks at him with disgust and continues, “He wasn’t even supposed to be here. But you know what they say. Never feed a stray cat.”

After you’ve made your way through two mimosas, you turn to Tashi to ask for the bathroom. You expect her to take you. Or simply give instructions and send you on your way, but Art stands up and says, “Come on, I’ll show you.”

You want to decline, but your bladder is screaming, so you follow him through the large French doors leading into their kitchen. You reluctantly watch the way his muscles move in tandem with his lazy stride. His gait is noticeably less stiff as he makes his way through his home. Here, he doesn’t have to be Art Donaldson ™, just Art. He doesn’t turn around until he stops at a door situated in the hallway you passed when you entered their house. He could’ve just told you that the bathroom was on that hall.

“Here it is.”

“Thanks,” you whisper and reach for the knob. Before he can say anything else, you shut the door behind you and lock it. When you think you can hear footsteps departing, you release a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

You quickly pee and wash your hands, lingering to stare at the water rinsing over your fingers. It’s not until the stream is hot enough to sting that you retract your hands, grab the hand towel and turn off the faucet.

It would be nice to just stay locked in here until Kaleb is tired out and ready to go home. But you know that would be weird at best and suspicious at worst.

“You can do this,” you whisper to yourself in the mirror. “It’s just one lunch. After this, you never have to talk to these people again.”

With a mindful inhale, you move to open the door and pray Kaleb can make some new friends.

You’re thinking about how bad of a mom you are when you almost bump into Art.

“Shit! You scared me!”

He frowns at you. “What? You surprised there was someone else in the house?” He says, voice laced with amusement.

You roll your eyes. “No, I just didn’t expect you to pop up. I thought you’d gone back outside.”

“I was waiting for you.”

“Oh…you didn’t have to do that. I could’ve found my way back.”

“Never said you couldn’t.” You think he’s standing closer to you now. “I just uh, I wanted to talk to you. You’ve been…” he moves his head from side to side, “a little tense.”

You let out an exaggerated gasp. “Really? You don’t say?”

He frowns. Like a kid who doesn’t understand why you’re taking away his cookies.

“Art, how did you think I was gonna act? After what…” you lower your voice, “after what we did,” you hiss.

His hand grasps your shoulder. “Hey.” He squeezes it. “I told you it was fine.”

You scoff. “So we just pretend it didn’t happen?”

“I didn’t say that. I told you, I wanted you.”

“And that makes it okay?” You crane your head back to stare at him.

He turns his head in the direction of the kitchen before letting out a sigh and bringing his eyes back to bore into yours. “Yeah. For me, it does.” You don’t think you’ve ever seen the intensity settled in his gaze the way it is now.

You look at him with disbelief. “Art. You’re married.”

He blinks at you.

“Your wife is literally sitting outside watching our children play.” You try to get him to see how wrong this is. “Doesn’t that mean anything to you?” You didn’t think Art could be so cold about this.

“It didn’t mean anything when she cheated on me.” His voice is steady, but there’s something undeniably hidden behind his hardened expression. You can’t place it, but whatever it is, it makes your brows soften.

“What?” You say lamely.

“You heard me.”

Your mouth opens. Then closes. That time when he’d told you he understood, he actually had. And you hadn’t believed him.

You want to inquire more, but he interrupts you. “Listen, I’m not really up to rehashing the fails of my marriage right now,” he says, reaching to grab your hand. You let him. “Just know that you don’t need to feel guilty. About anything.”

His fingers gently tilt your chin to look him in the eyes. “And know that everything we did that night was something I’ve wanted for awhile. Something I still want.”

Your eyes impulsively dart to his lips.

“Please tell me I can touch you,” he all but whimpers.

And at that moment, you know you really aren’t a good person. Because it only takes a matter of seconds for you to lean forward and catch Art’s lips as his head moves towards you. You bring your hands around the back of his neck as his arms snake around your waist. His warm hand presses against your hip before traveling up until he reaches your ribcage. You sigh into his mouth and thread your fingers through his hair. It didn’t take long for you to get lost in him, abandoning any form of restraint.

Despite the tenderness seeping through your fingertips, the kiss is rushed. It’s filled with lust and the desperation of two people, frantically trying to get as much as they can from the other. You whimper when you feel Art’s teeth dig into your bottom lip. One hand drags up to cup your breast, and the other moves to grip your ass, squeezing it. With an arch of your back, you let your head loll backwards a bit as Art’s pink tongue swirls around yours. He grunts out a small fuck when his thumb brushes over your clothed nipple and you moan. The action brings up flashes of him pressing his mouth to your breasts that night in the parking lot. You recall the way he sucked on them and played with your clit through your damp panties. The memory goes straight to your core.

Suddenly, Art pauses to glance towards the kitchen, as if weighing his options. You can feel him pressed up against you hard. And a part of you clenches when he turns back to you, grins, and whispers “fuck it” before attacking your mouth again. You let out a sound of surprise when you feel him ushering you back to the bathroom.

The lock clicks behind you as he presses you up against the door. His hands are everywhere and his tongue is following in quick succession. You’re so overwhelmed by it all that you can barely figure out where to place your hands. You settle for his shoulders as he falls to his knees in front of you.

Art spreads your legs, pressing his face into the side of your inner thigh. His nose and parted mouth travel up your thigh, bunching up the fabric of your knitted dress the higher he gets. Your stomach clenches when his hands come to caress the back of your thighs and make their way over your behind. In one swift motion, Art shoves his fingers into the waistband of your panties and tugs them harshly down your thighs.

His name tumbles out of your mouth in a gasp. He lightly hums to himself as he rids you of the extra material, and you don’t notice him place them into his pocket because your eyes are shut tight at the feeling of his wet mouth trailing up your thigh again.

When you feel a puff of warm air hit your lips, your eyes fly open, and you instinctively grip your dress to get a better look. Art’s eyes are closed as he unabashedly inhales your scent. After a particularly deep breath, his tongue comes out to lick against your folds. He releases a shaky exhale that tickles your clit. His blue eyes open up to peer at you, silently pleading for permission. You could almost laugh at the ridiculousness of him needing your permission when he’s already fucked you once and just forced himself between your legs, literally yanking your underwear down.

Still, he waits with his mouth mere centimeters from your heat, glassy eyes wide, looking to you to grant him this.

It’s possibly the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen. You place your fingers in his hair firmly and lower yourself onto his waiting mouth. The groan Art releases into your pussy resonates through your entire core. Your head falls back against the door as he begins to eat your cunt like he’s been starving for it.

He hungrily laps at your soaking entrance, dragging his tongue up to your clit and back again. He’s a messy eater. Letting your juices coat his chin without a care in the world. Shoving his tongue so deep into you that his nose is flush with you. It makes your stomach flutter. The intensity and risk of being caught transports you to a time when you might’ve hid in a closet with your high school crush. Except the head was never this good.

You’re grinding your swollen clit into his nose as his tongue fucks into your hole when he grabs your thigh, placing it over his shoulder. The position lets him shove his face deeper into the apex of your thighs, moaning against you. At this rate, you’re not sure who’s enjoying this more. You start to feel dizzy, your senses overwhelmed with the feel of Art’s tongue and the sound of his groaning mixed with filthy slurping noises. It’s obscene the way he’s switching between licking into your hole and sucking at your clit.

“Ah-Art I’m gonna—,”

“Mmhm,” he nods into your cunt. He’s lost in it. He’s gripping your ass, kneading the flesh, when his tongue dips downward. He spreads your cheeks. You jolt when you feel something hot and wet swirl around your tight muscle. You’re surprised at how good it feels, your ex would never have done that to you.

Your mouth falls open. “Oh godddd,” you’re tugging his hair, pulling his ears, anything your hands can find purchase on.

Your thighs tremble as Art mercilessly sucks on your clit. The orgasm that washes over you has you lifting your back off the wooden door, vision gone black.

Art doesn’t let up. You have to push his head away from you to get him to release your overstimulated clit. He stumbles back on his heels, thighs spread, with a giant grin on his face. His chin is glistening and his lips are swollen and red. As you work to catch your breath, you notice that the front of his pants are soaked.

ᯓ

Art sends you out first. He has to change his jeans after he basically came from merely eating you out. The thought makes you giggle.

When you get to the table, only Patrick is there. You sit down, but you must look confused because he tells you Tashi had to take a call.

You nod.

“She left pretty soon after you went inside.” He takes a puff from his cigarette.

“Okay,” you say and smooth out your dress.

He blows out a cloud of smoke and tilts his head. He smiles at you like he knows exactly what you’ve been up to.

It makes you gulp.

“Where’s Art?” He asks, eyes twinkling.

“I uh…I don’t know,” you lie. “He disappeared after he showed me to the bathroom.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Oh.”

You can’t take the scrutiny. To keep from fidgeting with your hands, you reach for your neglected mimosa and take a sip.

Patrick puts out his cigarette. He looks over to the kids who are now taking turns throwing pebbles across the pond. It looks like Lily is beating Kaleb, but he’s determined to throw his further.

Patrick’s voice cuts through the air. “Hey.” He leans forward on his elbows and smirks, “was he good?”

You cough. “What?”

He laughs at your sputtering. “Oh my god. You let him fuck you, didn’t you??”

“Excuse me!” You look at him aghast.

“Oh come on,” he slightly sobers up. “I can keep a secret.” He mimics a zipper on his lips.

Thankfully, Art decides to finally rejoin you, saving you from having to respond to Patrick’s interrogation.

He sits down in the seat beside you, placing his hand on your thigh under the table. “He’s not bothering you, is he?” But he looks at Patrick as he asks the question.

Patrick scoffs. “No, we were just talking.”

Art looks at you as if to ask you to confirm. So, you nod. “Mmhm, everything’s fine.”

He looks you over then leans back in his seat, relenting. “So, where’s Tashi?”

As if on cue, you hear the door on the opposite side of the patio open as Tashi lets out a sigh. She plops down in her seat across from Art.

“I swear if I want shit done right I have to do it myself.”

She goes on to complain about how her team had fucked up Patrick’s upcoming campaign. If you’re being honest, the conversation is the last thing on your mind right now. Their voices fade out as you get stuck in your head.

You wonder just how much Patrick knew about you and Art. Had Art told him? Had he bragged about how easy you were to his best friend? Is that why Patrick’s been hitting on you all day?

It dawns on you that Art and Patrick might think you’re just a slut. The thought makes your stomach twist in humiliation. But some part of you feels excited by the idea. The thought that you could exist as a free sexual being. God is this what happens when you’re divorced and sexually dissatisfied for years?

The sound of someone clearing their throat steals you from your thoughts. You look up to see all three of them staring at you expectantly.

“I’m sorry?”

Art chuckles at your blatant inattention. It reminds him of the way you’d zone out when the PTA meetings ran over and Nancy couldn’t stop yapping.

“I promise, we do talk about more than just tennis.”

“Oh it’s fine,” you shrug.

Patrick laughs. “He’s lying. Neither of them can hold a conversation without bringing up tennis.”

Tashi rolls her eyes in his direction. “Patrick, you shouldn’t even be here right now. Shut up.”

You try to stifle your giggle at her dismissal of Patrick. Though her words drip with disdain, they lack any real malice. And if anything, Patrick’s smile grows wider the deeper she furrows her brows. You figure their bickering must also be characteristic of their tennis relationship.

“Also, I just know he was probably annoying the hell out of you while I was gone.” She tips her glass in Art’s direction. “Art here can barely keep him in check.”

“Okay, that’s not—“

Before Art can defend himself, Patrick cuts in. “Actually, I was just asking her out on a date,” he smirks at you. “Isn’t that right?”

His smile is daring you to disagree, and you realize he’s challenging you.

You clear your throat. “Yeah he did,” you say, peeking at Art. He looks like a disapproving father. Arms folded and mouth set in a hard line. “And I told him no,” you continue. “Because right now, I’m not interested in dating. I’d rather focus on me and my kid.”

Tashi smirks. “Yeah Patrick, no one needs your parasitic ass preying on them once they’ve already ditched deadweight.” She must realize her bluntness as her eyes lift to yours. “Sorry, I’m just saying.”

“It’s alright,” you laugh. Your ex was deadweight. You find yourself staring at your clasped hands. Your amusement at her comment had been genuine, but that’s the problem. For someone that just fucked this woman’s husband, you’re a little too comfortable in Tashi’s presence. Your lack of all encompassing guilt is concerning. Maybe it’s because you’ve had three mimosas.

Yeah. It’s definitely the mimosas.

You suppose that once reality sets in, it may all come crashing down on you. So, you enjoy the feeling for now. Besides, after lunch today, you intend to never sleep with Art Donaldson again.

ᯓ

Following that Saturday lunch, you proceed to fuck Art Donaldson after almost every PTA meeting. You two find yourselves in the back of your car screwing like rabbits with your clothes halfway on or in the front seat of his, you riding him while he tries not to slam you into the dashboard.

The night you have to throw Kaleb’s booster seat into the front as Art works to pull down your pants from behind is the night you decide this can no longer go on. Or more specifically, that fucking in a car is impractical.

Art convinces you to meet him at a hotel instead. You two get the same room each time, and even though you promise that you’re going to stop, you find yourself checking into that hotel room every weekend. If not there, Art comes to your place. It becomes your regular form of self care after a long week of work.

Kaleb has to start spending time with his father anyway, so you let him have Saturdays and Sundays. If nothing makes you feel better about your son hanging out with your ex and his new fiancée, it’s being able to forget it all with Art.

Unfortunately, the guilt begins to build a home for itself in your gut. Any time you aren’t being fucked by Art, you’re beating yourself up about it, swearing that you’ll never let it happen again. Never in your life have you experienced this much anguish over something. Yet, it’s a fascinating cycle of faux repression. The way you deny yourself out of some self-righteous need to be perceived as a good person, only to eventually give into your true desires when being a good person makes you feel utterly miserable.

It’s almost the same every time. Art will reach out to you. You tell him never to dial your number again. You feel bad, so you go to apologize. Then, you inevitably fuck him. But you hate yourself for fucking him, but you do it again because his cock is the only thing that makes you feel better.

It’s utterly ridiculous.

It’s also ridiculous that you can’t set firm boundaries with him. After the first hotel meeting, you nearly cried when you woke up cocooned within his arms. It was wrong. You’d already slept with him, cuddling was too far. It was too domestic.

You told yourself you wouldn’t let that happen anymore.

Yet, here you are again, trapped beneath his muscled arm. Except this time, he’s in your bed. And his face is buried in the crook of your neck, his mouth slightly parted for his warm breath to kiss your skin. The rise and fall of his chest against your back threatens to lull you back to sleep. You fight your heavy eyelids and shuffle to raise Art’s arm enough to slip out of.

You prop yourself against the headboard and stare out of the window. The leaves are starting to lose their green hue, and some have already fallen to the ground. Fall has always been your favorite time of year. Though the change in season isn’t as dramatic as the melting of icicles going into spring, the transition from summer heat to autumn has a way of slipping up on you.

One day, it’s unbearably hot, and you’re dreaming of when the air might catch a cool breeze, and the next, you’re reaching for a jacket because, though the days are still warm, the nights are getting cooler. And then one day, you’re peering out of your window to see that the leaves have changed color, and they’ve all fallen.

When you look back at Art, his blue eyes are already staring back at you. You wonder when he woke up. He has that small sleepy smile on his face, and his eyes are slightly swollen, and he’s reaching to wrap his arms around your waist and nuzzle his head into your lap. And you glance at the leaves from the trees and realize they aren’t the only ones that have fallen.

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

a/n: let me know what you guys think of this part! I think I have about two more parts for pta!Art and reader because a bit of drama is about to unfold. *rubs hands together like an insect*

Part iii

[queenimmadolla]

𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

(eddie munson x pregnant!reader)

Summary: You and Eddie discuss your current pregnancy craving...or, in which you want something not all that common of a craving and ridiculously difficult to get a hold of, and Eddie teases you over it even though you both know he's going to get it for you.

warnings: references to baby making activities.

a/n: those damn tiktoks keep getting to me. lil drabble. more dad!eddie here. masterlist.

Pregnancy was not something Eddie Munson believed he would ever understand. Wasn’t something he thought he’d have to do.

  Until—at the very responsible age of twenty─he took to finishing inside of you and one of his swimmers took. Played hide-and-seek for a good five months before either of you knew she was there.

  You hadn’t started showing until about two or three weeks after finding out, and now at almost seven months, you had the cutest baby bump Eddie couldn’t keep his hands off, a ravenous hunger for the most peculiar things and absolutely no tolerance for the weirdest fucking things; the sound of kernels popping made you want to throw up, and so did the scent of baked goods and the ‘air on Tuesdays’ (Eddie was still trying to work that one out).

  Whatever you wanted, Eddie got you. Albeit, with tons of questions asked. Like, right now.

  It was late in the evening, chilly throughout the trailer but warm in the room thanks to the trusty space heater Eddie had had for years. The both of you had traded your day clothes for pajamas, so you were in one of his t-shirts and nothing else while he was only clad in a pair of sweats because his body temperature always ran a little on the hot side, and you were curled right up to him. Your head had been previously nuzzling into the crook of his neck, placing kisses over the tendons there and nosing along his jaw but now it was craned back, batting those pretty eyelashes up at him with pleading eyes and a pout.

  “Pleeeaaaaase, Eddie?”

  “Branzino.” Eddie repeated your request with amused disbelief.

  “It’s low in mercury, so I can eat it.”

  “Branzino.”

  “It’s what she wants!” You chirped, moving a hand to rest over your growing bump. Baby Munson, your little Penny, had recently learned she had legs and could stretch them out in there. Despite the two of you settling down, she seemed to be filled with energy; you could feel her moving around, targeting certain areas with her kicks. She’d been pretty still for a good hour or two so you thought she might have woken up from a nap. 

  “Yeah?” Eddie asked, quirking his brows with lidded eyes, so engrossed with how caring you were for his baby already. 

  Witnessing you go from awkwardly acknowledging her existence with a pat or uncertain conversation to almost always having a hand over your bump, as if to protect her from a threat while talking to her as though she was already cradled in your arms, had Eddie always so tender with emotion. 

  He was so proud and in love.

  You hummed in confirmation and when Eddie’s hand moved your (his) shirt up, you immediately grasped his wrist to place his palm over the area your baby’s foot was currently pressing up against. Eddie grinned as he felt the movement just under the warmth of your skin, firm and held surprisingly long before it retreated and he rubbed over the area as you relaxed further into him.

  “She was stretching.” He correctly deduced. 

  “Mhm, she’s been kicking the heck out of my ribcage, so I think her head is right here.” You placed your free hand over your bump, just under your left breast, “She only got active after we showered, so she just woke up.”

  Eddie felt a little guilty about that, it had probably been him railing you against the shower wall that stirred her from her slumber.

  “Sorry, sweet pea.” He mumbled, continuing to rub your belly if not somewhat more apologetic, “I’m just so excited that I can’t get your mom pregnant right now, ‘cause we already have you, and she’s just so horn—“

  Eddie laughed as you delivered a swift whack to his chest with the back of your hand, fighting a smile as he teased you through an attempt to talk to your baby.

  “Excuse me, you were the one trying to feel me up on the couch!”

  “No, I did feel you up. And if I recall correctly, which I do, it was my fingers you were cum—“

  “Distracting!” You pointed an accusatory finger in his face, booping the tip of his nose with it, “You’re trying to distract me. Branzino.”

  “Ugh,” Eddie sagged into the pillows, but the smirk on his face told you you’d be getting exactly what you wanted, like always. He just liked to give you a hard time. Banter with you was like foreplay to him. “Alright, alright. Since you must have your fish dish─”

  “I must,” You placed the back of your hand against your forehead as you fell dramatically back into the pillows.

  “And since she’s craving it─”

  “She wants branzino so badly and I’d get it for her myself but I’m utterly exhausted─no, not because we had sex,” You had immediately clocked the grinch like twist in his smirk at your mentioning of exhaustion, “I’ll have you know I probably made a good chunk of her brain today. That takes energy. Dedication. And she probably sucked the bone marrow out of me to do it, or something.”

  Eddie threw his head back and howled with laughter. You giggled along with him but tried to reason, “Okay, I’m not being completely dramatic, though! She really does steal some of my own body to make hers! I could lose my teeth, Eddie. I read it in a book.”

  The bed shook with how hard Eddie was laughing and you delighted in being the reason behind it. Once he calmed down, his head lulled to the side, cheeks red from all that amusement and warm brown hues focused on you.

  “You read it in a book, huh?”

  “Yup.”

  “Ask your doctor about it?”

  “Nope.”

  “Why not?”

  “…’Cause I’m scared she’ll say it’s true.”

  You sent Eddie into another laughing fit. When he was done with that one, he launched himself out of bed and you snuggled into the spot he’d occupied—so warm and cozy—to watch him grab a shirt and hoodie from the closet, and his jacket from where he’d thrown it on the dresser. A beanie was shoved on his head and as he wrapped the scarf you’d gotten him around his neck, he eyed you with mirth twinkling in his pretty eyes.

  “Branzino in the middle of winter.”

  “It’s what she wants!”

  “It’s what she wants.” He conceded with a fond smile, “I’ll be back after like an hour and a half of driving around to find a Greek place open so you can replenish your bone marrow with it somehow and grow the rest of her brain.”

  You hummed in appreciation, beaming at him as he neared you to lean over and get a thorough kiss goodbye. 

  “Thank you,” You mumbled shyly against his mouth.

  “You don’t have to thank me . . . but you’re welcome.” He teased.

  Driving around in the cold didn't seem all that terrible with you blowing him kisses from the bed, and his baby growing inside you. 

  That damn fish was so worth it.

[rottiens]

A LOVELY TOUCH┊ISAGI YOICHI

✮ summary. meeting his parents and being in his room for the first time allows you to get to know another side of isagi that you hadn't discovered before.

✮ tags. (18+), established relationship, unprotected sex + creampie, fem reader, petnames, sex toys, praising (that’s my girl), spit, dirty talk. divider creds: cafekitsune.

✮ wc. 4.3k

Isagi's room is just as you had pictured it in your imagination. The walls are decorated with soccer posters, of some anime with rather colorful characters and of some soccer players you vaguely recognize from having seen them on your phone. The bed is impeccably made, with a navy blue bedspread that matches the two pillows perfectly lined up on top. Next to the bed, a nightstand holds a stack of comics and manga that you fail to identify until you get close enough. In front of the bed, a wall-mounted television is connected to a playstation, ready to be used.

The room, in general, is surprisingly tidy, almost too tidy to be Isagi's. The thought that he probably cleaned neatly because he knew you'd be staying over tonight brings a smile to your face. Throughout your relationship, you had always met at your place or at the hotels he stays at when you visit him out of town, so to be here, in a space that is entirely his, sends a tingle through your stomach that stirs the hunger of your curiosity.

As you flip through the monochromatic pages of one of the manga, you hear the sound of his footsteps approaching down the hallway. The floorboards groan under his weight, and your heart pounds, as if you've been caught doing something wrong. A smile spreads across your face as you see him standing in the doorframe, his silhouette blocking the light coming in from the hallway, giving him an almost cinematic air.

Isagi mimics your smile, mirroring it as he closes the door behind him and steps into the space you now share. It is at that moment that you notice the subtle scent of sandalwood wafting through the air, permeating the atmosphere. The room, completely enclosed and with thick curtains blocking the outside light, has maintained this scent throughout the day.

"What do you think, then?" asks Isagi, with a slight tension in his voice that makes you wonder if his heart is beating as fast as yours.

Isagi's parents turned out to be even more charming than you had imagined. His mother insisted on adding another dish to dinner, even though you had offered to cook for everyone; she even offered to help you wash the dishes, while Mr. Isagi and your boyfriend continued chatting in the dining room a few feet away.

The feeling you are left with is one of warmth and comfort, like a warm blanket wrapped around you after a long winter's day. And that's what you're trying to express, albeit in a simpler, less corny way.

"…I'm happy to have finally met them," you conclude sincerely.

Isagi, who has just hung up his jacket in the closet and is now wearing only a shirt and dark sweatpants, walks up to you and wraps his strong arms around your waist. With the manga completely forgotten, your hands find rest on the back of his neck, and out of instinct, you start stroking his hair. Isagi visibly relaxes at your loving touch.

"'Yeah? I think they really liked you, I was nervous," he says, laughing softly.

"Really, you thought they wouldn't like me?" you tease as Isagi closes his eyes, enjoying your touch.

"Quite the opposite. I thought they might like you more than me," he replies, meeting your eyes again, causing a sparkle to tingle up from your belly to your ribs.

"Your mom is so nice, and your dad is so cool. I think it's adorable how they support you."

It's obvious how proud they are of their son, how far he's come. That was reflected in every topic of conversation they had tonight and in the way their eyes sparkled at the sight of him. Deep down, you're relieved to have their approval, too.

"I had no doubt they would like you. My mother loved the dessert you made too, you're cooking so much better every time."

Isagi guides you towards the bed, interrupting the conversation. He lies down first and invites you to join him with a few pats on the mattress. You crawl onto the bedspread, which stays perfectly in place despite the movement, and lie comfortably on the arm he has extended for you.

"I'm gonna stay all weekend," he says, playing with the silver "I" dangling from your neck. Your eyes instantly light up, and Isagi struggles to contain a mischievous smile that threatens to appear at the corners of his lips.

"You hadn't told me," you murmur, controlling the excitement in your voice. "I thought you had to leave tomorrow."

"'Yeah, I wanted to surprise you." His fingers fiddle with your collarbone and the line of your neck as he says it, only to finally focus his full attention on you.

He watches your reaction closely, delighted that he got this reaction in person, knowing it wouldn't be the same if he'd told you about it over the phone. Then, he leans toward you and kisses you softly on the lips, a fleeting kiss after which he doesn't pull away, allowing you to become drunk on the fresh, woody scent that surrounds him.

"We could go out tomorrow, maybe invite your parents over again and…" you start to suggest, but Isagi interrupts you with another soft kiss that instantly makes you close your eyes. Your hand rests on his chest, feeling his heart dance against his ribs, as his palm rests on your waist.

"I'd love the idea, but right now I don't wanna do anything but hold you close."

The physical contact instantly ignites your skin, and the tone of his voice alerts your senses to what might be coming. But you're still curious to explore more of his space, so you add, "Your room…" he chuckles, probably guessing what you're going to say next. "It's very organized."

"Does that surprise you?" Not really, but the attention to detail does. Everything looks impeccable, you know he's put a lot of thought into it. "I've learned a few things about keeping my place in order with Barou."

"Oh, yeah, you guys were roommates before."

"Uh huh. He wanted to kill me when he found my shoes where they were not supposed to be, or my jacket on the couch when I got home late from training."

You laugh at the mental image of an angry Barou chasing Isagi with his shoes in hand around the apartment, though you remain aware of Isagi's touch, of how his fingers gently trace lines on the skin of your stomach, which your now somewhat disheveled top reveals.

The room is enveloped in a comfortable silence, broken only by the faint whisper of the fan on the ceiling. You've settled into his chest, with his heartbeat providing a steady, soothing rhythm that almost lulls you to sleep. Yet your eyes roam the room with a newfound curiosity, lingering on details you had previously overlooked, as if you want to unravel a little more of what this space can reveal to you about him.

Near the door, the closet remains ajar, revealing a glimpse of its interior. The shirts are lined up with almost millimeter precision, but it's the bottom corner that captures your attention. Between a pair of worn sneakers and a backpack that has seen better days, a cardboard box with worn corners peeks out, partially hidden.

Your curiosity piqued, you sit up slightly, trying not to disturb the moment.

"What's that?" you ask quietly, pointing to the box with a slight nod of your head.

Isagi follows the direction of your gaze and sketches a shy smile, as if you've found something he'd forgotten. "Oh, that… it's just a box with some old things, souvenirs and such."

His answer is simple, but his tone piques your interest even more. You slide gently from his side, the mattress emitting a slight creak under your weight as you stand up. " Can I see it?" you ask, wariness mingling with growing curiosity.

Isagi chuckles softly, shaking his head with a mixture of resignation and amusement. "Sure, but there's not much, really."

You make your way to the closet and kneel down in front of the box. You carefully pull it out, surprised by its unexpected weight. You place it on the floor in front of you and, as you lift the lid, a rush of nostalgia seems to flood the air.

Inside, you find a variety of objects: a pair of soccer tickets yellowed by time, photos of a younger Isagi alongside friends you don't recognize, and a scarf of his favorite team, still vibrant in its colors. There's a small trophy, probably from some school competition, and a keychain that looks like it was purchased on his first major trip away from home. Each object seems to be loaded with history and meaning, as if they were pieces of a puzzle that together reveal the essence of who he is now.

Your fingers stop on one photograph in particular, where a teenage Isagi smiles broadly, holding a ball with his hand raised in victory. Beside him, a childhood friend embraces him with the same energy. The happiness on his face is so genuine that you can't help but smile too.

"This is adorable," you say, holding up the photo so Isagi can see it from the bed.

He gets up and comes over to you, sitting down next to you on the floor. "That was a good time," he comments, his voice laden with nostalgia as he takes the photo from your hands to look at it more closely. "We won that match by sheer luck, but it was one of the best days of my life."

Your attention is diverted to another object in the box, a small notebook with worn edges. You delicately open it, finding inside scribbles, small drawings and notes that Isagi probably wrote when he was a teenager.

"You've kept all this for how long?" you ask, fascinated by the amount of memories he's accumulated.

"Since forever, I think," he replies, laughing lightly. "I'm not one to usually hold on to the past, but some things are worth keeping. I like to remember them from time to time."

You close the notebook and put it back in the box, feeling like you've just discovered a side of Isagi you may not have been fully aware of. As you do so, something else at the bottom of the box catches your eye. It's the thick edge of what appears to be a red book. Curiosity leads you to slide your fingers along it and pull it out for a better look. The objects on top offer resistance, but without giving up, you manage to pull it out.

"Oh," Isagi murmurs as you realize that it's not a book you've pulled out, but a stack of magazines that, under the light of the bulb, reveal their true nature.

"Yoichi?" you ask, covering your mouth with your hand to contain the laughter bubbling in your stomach while at the same time showing the magazine in his direction.

"Fuck." His cheeks flush red, and you've never seen him so nervous. Immediately, he tries to snatch them from you, wrestling you with the box in between.

"Let me see them!" you laugh, louder this time, enjoying the rare sight of seeing him so distressed.

"Stop, it's embarrassing! Don't open them!" he insists, desperate, as you try to wriggle away from him, the porn magazines now scattered around you.

In the struggle, his foot buckles and he loses his balance, falling on top of you and crushing you to the floor. Your hands are trapped above your head, imprisoned, and the magazines fall open, revealing their stained pages beside you.

" Can I explain?" he says, his voice trembling between embarrassment and nervous laughter.

"Well?" you ask, biting your lip to keep from laughing again.

You watch him as he struggles to find the right words, finally giving up with a sigh. "It was a gift from a friend."

"And you kept them?" you ask, arching an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Well, yes…" he mumbles.

You laugh again, not because you're judging him, but because seeing him so grief-stricken over something he tried to hide, but which is really no big deal, is adorable. It's rare to see him in this state of vulnerability, and you can't help but enjoy his discomfort a little. Your laughter grows with his fingers starting to tickle you, and your eyes fill with tears as you beg for mercy. Finally, Isagi pulls away, sitting back on his heels, victorious as the air from the fan ripples his hair.

"It's okay, check them if you want. I'll go pee, but don't touch anything else until I get back," he says, his voice tinged with faux authoritarianism.

His words only fuel your desire to explore more. You sit back down, the magazines now forgotten on the floor, as you scan the room for something else you might discover. But finding nothing that captures your attention, you momentarily give up, remembering that you probably have missed messages from your mom asking how dinner went. Your phone, deep in your pocket, had died halfway through dinner.

"Babe, where's your charger?" you yell, heading for the nightstand. You open the drawer and what you find is more than you expected. It's a treasure trove, exactly what you were looking for to piss him off even more.

"Fuck me," Isagi mutters from the doorway, his tone a clear sign of resignation.

"A fleshlight?" you exclaim, completely shocked. There's not even any intention of joking now. "I didn't think you were the type to use toys… I thought you didn't like them."

Isagi advances towards you quickly, but you hide it behind your back just in time. He stops, measuring his next steps.

"It was a joke," he explains, his voice laden with embarrassment.

"What kind of joke?" you ask, genuinely curious.

Isagi shakes his head, trying to organize his thoughts. "The guys thought it would be funny. It was a 'joke' because… well, because I was a virgin and stuff. Now, give it to me."

Isagi takes a step forward, but you step back, finding yourself pinned against the bed.

"Did you use it?" you ask, your eyes full of genuine wonder as you try to keep your cool.

Before you can run away or have time to react, Isagi advances towards you with the speed and precision he only shows in the field. His eyes, tinged with a deep blue full of determination, bore into yours, revealing an expression you have rarely seen, a mixture of defiance and desire. Effortlessly, he manages to lay you down on the mattress, his weight taking you prisoner as he reaches for the object hidden behind your back. He teases you again with tickling, and new tears of laughter form in your eyes.

"Fine! Fine, I give up! But first…" you say with a chuckle, noticing how he raises an eyebrow tentatively, as he pulls away and is completely seated on top of you, you notice small beads of sweat forming a crown on his forehead. "I need to know if you've used it."

Isagi licks his upper lip, his heart beating rapidly. He shouldn't feel embarrassed, but there's something uncomfortably intimate about admitting it in front of you, as if crossing an invisible line.

"Yes," he replies simply, his voice barely a whisper.

"Thinking about me?"

The room is plunged into a thick, tension-laden silence. Isagi looks at you, his eyes roaming over every detail of your face.

"Yes," he confesses, his words full of honesty. You lick your lips, struggling to keep your breathing under control.

"What were you thinking?" you ask, your voice low, barely audible in the charged atmosphere of the room.

Isagi takes a moment before answering, his eyes scanning yours for any clues. Finally, he leans in a little closer, his face close to yours, and in a barely audible whisper, he answers you.

"I was thinking about you… riding me, then me fucking you sideways, toying with your clit. Fuck, I remember it so clearly," he says, his voice deeper, charged with a mixture of desire and vulnerability you've never heard before.

The confession leaves a shiver running across your skin, and for a moment, the air in the room seems to grow thicker, heavier. His words, so simple yet so loaded with meaning, make you feel a mix of emotions. All you can do is look at him, contemplate this man who has somehow become so essential to you, so intimately tied to your life that imagining a future without him seems impossible.

"I want to see you use it…" you whisper, your words full of desire, stripped of any trace of teasing. The question hangs in the air, waiting for his answer.

Isagi takes a shaky breath, and you can feel his hips push against your abdomen, letting you know exactly what he thinks about the idea. The tip of his nose brushes against yours in an intimate gesture, but then he stops, reluctantly pulling away.

"Okay…" he sighs with resignation. Though you lick your suddenly dry lips now, and silently moan at the loss of his warmth when he pulls away, your skin begins to tingle with anticipation. Before you, your boyfriend peels off his shirt in one fluid motion, dropping it carelessly to the side. The sight of his naked torso, bathed in the soft light of the room, makes your heart pound, building anticipation and tension in the air.

"Do you have any lube?" you ask, your tone anxious, straining to keep your eyes fixed on his and not on the noticeably tight bulge under his boxers as he finally strips out of his pants.

Isagi gives a slight nod of his head, gesturing towards the bedside table. "If you'd looked a little harder, you would have found it right next to that… thing."

A smile tugs at your lips as you hear him refer to the toy that way, reminding you that, while he's not completely comfortable with the idea, he's willing to experience something new just because you've asked him to. Quickly, you lean over to the nightstand, pushing aside the charger and other items, until your fingers find the bottle of lubricant. You take it and return to bed with excitement pulsing through your veins.

Your legs are folded and wedged between his thighs. You watch anxiously as he holds himself with his hands on the mattress, his back slightly arched back. The sight of the tangle of hair peeking over the edge of his boxers distracts you for a moment, intensifying the desire growing between you both.

"Take it out," you ask, flashlight in one hand, lube in the other.

"You take it out, I thought it was you who wanted to play."

The response makes you bite your tongue, so he was going to make you work for it, you conclude. Good. You set the objects aside and ask him to lift his ass up so you can fully pull his boxers out of him, his free cock bouncing gently on the spot. He was completely hard and you want to tease him about it, comment to him that if he doesn't like the idea so much why is he so hard, but you know he's been thinking about it probably before dinner and that, if he were to toss your panties aside he'd realize you were just as needy so you let it go for now. Just for your own good.

It throbs as you feel your determined hand approach with the bottle of lubricant. You drop a generous amount at the tip, watching as it slowly slides to the base, its viscous texture catching the dim light of the room. Deftly, you reach for the liquid just before it touches the mattress, catching it with your fingers in a precise gesture.

Isagi shudders under your touch, a tremor running through his body more from the warmth of your touch than the coldness of the lubricant. The sticky sound of your hand sliding up and down now accompanies the soft murmur of the fan, creating an intimate symphony that fills the space you share.

You stroke him just a little before taking the toy, Isagi grunts as you press it to the tip, he thrusts his hips up to receive you when you finally slide it down disappearing his cock completely. You dare to give it a few pumps, taking note of every reaction.

"How does it feel?"

"Good," he replies with his eyelids half drooping and his jaw clenched.

Tentatively you give another deep thrust, the lewd sound of the toy filling the room with its wet, provocative echo. Then, you pull it out completely, and you can't help but watch as his cock drips pre-cum mixed with the lube, creating a tantalizing gloss on the tip. Isagi moans at the lack of attention, his voice laden with need, but it doesn't take you long to re-wrap his cock with the plastic, resuming a rhythm you know he loves.

"You're doing such a good job…" you murmur, fascinated as you watch him lose himself more in the moment, clearly surrendered to the pleasure you're giving him.

You liked it, you must confess. The power it makes you feel to see him like this, it was just like when you were masturbating him, he could reason, but for some reason there's something different about using a toy in between, the whole new scenario has you in a thick cloud of frenzy, your movements speeding up, determined to make him cum. His brow furrows, his lips part.

"Yes? Do you like being in control?" asks Isagi, his voice husky with a mixture of curiosity and desire.

You just mumble something inaudible, caught between the intensity of the moment and the proximity of his body. Before you can add anything else, however, Isagi rises, his movements fluid and confident. His hand slides to the back of your neck, gripping it firmly as he draws you closer, his lips only inches from yours, like a promise of an approaching kiss. "You like fucking me?"

"Yeah… fuck, I wanna watch you cum."

"Do it. Fuck me harder, cmon. Use me."

With both hands on your cheeks, he traps you in an intimate kiss, a heady mix of lust and love. His lips move urgently over yours, his tongue tangling in yours as his teeth gently punish your lower lip. Isagi's moans grow louder, each one charged with desire, as he inevitably nears climax.

"I'm not cumming…" he growls. "Not anywhere else but in your pussy."

Before you can react, Isagi takes your hand firmly, pushing the fleshlight aside. With a fluidity in his movements, he gently lays you down against the bed, his body pressing against yours. One hand rests on your neck, the touch warm and reassuring, while the other descends to your clit, caressing it in slow, long circles. The air becomes thick with anticipation and desire, each brush igniting your senses and leaving you breathless.

"No more games." The determination on his face is exhilarating, it has you throbbing and clenching around his fingers stretching you.

In a moment, Isagi gets rid of your bottoms and underwear and spits on his hand to wrap his cock with saliva, his hips exerting weight on your thighs open you wider for him and then you feel the tip part the walls of your pussy, your mouth opens slightly.

"There's nothing like this pussy."

Then, with one precise movement, Isagi slides inside you, so deep it takes your breath away for an instant. The sensation fills you completely, eliciting a choked moan in your throat. He doesn't move fast, but begins to roll his hips, creating a friction that makes you shudder. At the same time, his fingers continue to torture your clit in slow, deliberate circles, sending waves of pleasure that make you arch your back, letting the moment consume you completely.

"I'm almost there… but I need you to cum with me," he gasps.

You can only nod in desperation, begging him wordlessly to keep up the pace. But, without warning, Isagi pulls out, wrenching a frustrated moan from you before you can protest. With almost ruthless precision, he flicks your clit with the tip of his cock, drawing an unexpected cry of pleasure from you. Then he lifts your leg, placing it over his shoulder in a new position that allows him to go even deeper. Without further warning, he begins to thrust hard into you, the rhythm now brutal, as if he is determined to bring you to the edge of your orgasm. Each thrust is a promise broken and fulfilled at the same time, a movement that seeks both his release and yours, as you feel yourself collapse in shared ecstasy.

"There's nothing like this fucking pussy," Isagi murmurs between clenched teeth, his voice laden with desire as his lips land on your heel with a sweetness so intense it leaves you breathless. The contradiction between the brutality of his thrusts and the tenderness of his gesture makes you feel dizzy. "Lets cum together, baby."

His words sound like a request, but his raw passion, along with the strokes that spread throughout your body, feel like a command you can't refuse, even if you wanted to. Your back arches, and an electric current runs down your spine, tangling in your insides and exploding in an explosion of colors like fireworks. A few thrusts later, Isagi is chasing you, cumming inside you as he showers you with praise and how good you always are to him.

"That's my girl, there you go," he says sweetly as he kisses your throat, moves up to your jaw and concludes on your lips with tiny kisses that he scatters all over your face, tickling you.

"Stop!" you laugh as he gently bites your cheek for the sole purpose of teasing you.

"Don't run away from my kisses, c'mere!" Isagi squeezes you against his arms, from which you can't escape, as he continues to shower you with kisses and nibble you gently in every corner he can reach with his teeth. He doesn't stop until you surrender in his arms and kiss him back as you tousle the sweaty strands of his hair.

"Let's take a shower and go to sleep," you murmur sleepily. "I'm exhausted."

"Yeah, let's do that," he says, giving you one last kiss on the lips as he squeezes your cheeks.

"Maybe we can use the toy aga—"

"Don't even think about it."

[retroaria]

ੈ♡˳ boyfriend Isagi ｡.｡:∞♡

summary: cutsey headcanons for everyones favorite egoist Isagi Yoichi (HIMsagi GOATichi) a bit of a school AU but you can add your own nuances to it ofc I just tried to be general

warnings: purest of fluff (your heart might explode)

BLUE LOCK M.LIST | enjoy 🤍 - aria

pre!boyfriend isagi who shows his feelings through sweet acts of service before he’s ready to tell you head on. Need a partner for that project? He’s already slipping into the desk beside you, a smile on his face. Left your pencil case in homeroom? He’ll run however many miles to ensure it gets back to you. (could’ve texted you but he wants to hand it to you like Prince Charming). Forgot your lunch that day? he’s already splitting half his bento to give to you.

pre!boyfriend isagi who may be afraid to confront you about his feelings off the bat but will go so far out of his way to form a friendship with you first. Immediately introduces himself as soon as you catch his eye. You guys exchange numbers and socials and the rest is history: late night phone calls, weekend hangouts, walking you to school every morning. This boy wants to be your bestie before he swoops in for the goal (and steals your heart!)

pre!boyfriend isagi who wants to immerse himself in your interests and vise versa. No matter what it is you’re into he knows that understanding your passions will help him further understand you. Loves seeing you in the stands during his practice or games. Will literally melt at the sight of you cheering for him. “Clean up on left field, this boy just turned into a puddle of mush!”

pre!boyfriend isagi who can’t help but brush his hand and arm against yours when you walk together. Can’t help but press his leg to yours when sitting together. Can’t help but offer to carry your bags or books. Can’t help but pick that “lint” out of your hair or that “eyelash” on your face (totally not an excuse to touch you). Can’t help but tug you closer to him in crowded spaces. Can’t help but stare endlessly into your eyes everytime you speak (the BEST listener ever btw)

pre!boyfriend isagi who realizes he doesn’t want to waste another second of his life not being able to call you his. Uses the first moment he gets alone with you to take your hands in his and give you the most honest and heartfelt confession. He’s blushing lightly but confident in the connection he’s worked hard to build with you.

boyfriend!isagi who cant wait to be able to hold your hand in public, pull you in for quick kisses, wrap his arm around you whenever he wants, hold you close to him on the couch or in bed, tell you how perfect you are everyday, and never let you forget that he feels like the luckiest boy in the world when he’s with you.

boyfriend!isagi who can’t wait to introduce you to all his friends. You meet Bachira first (obvi) and the three of you become an unstoppable trio. Loves having you at post game celebrations and having you as his personal cheerleader (this boy would do anything to win the game and make you proud)

boyfriend!isagi who dies at the thought of you referring to him as “your boyfriend” and getting to say “my girlfriend/boyfriend/partner. he loves talking about you to his parents! They’re so happy to meet you and so glad that he has someone who cares for him. His mom def shows you all his baby photos (babysagi!)

boyfriend!isagi who takes you on the cutest dates and loves when you take him on dates too (makes him feel like a special boy). He always tries to do something where the two of you can spend a lot of time talking or have a nice experience together. He’s so open and willing to try new things with you, having you in his life has opened him up as a person. He’s also never not happy to just spend the night in snuggled up watching a movie/tv show/anime. (Aside: I have an isagi x reader one shot idea where they go on a date to a butterfly garden that I may potentially post Idk yet)

boyfriend!isagi who is constantly worrying about your health and wellbeing. You can’t tell me he isn’t the kind of guy to constantly check up on you, making sure you’re ok physically and mentally as often as he can. If ever you’re feeling upset or in pain/sick he goes into doctor mode and will do everything in his power to help. If all else fails he will just hold you and promise that his love will make it all better (he’s a loving optimist what can I say)

boyfriend!isagi who is the first to admit that he is absolutely smitten and totally wrapped around your finger because he will forever be in awe that he had the chance to share his love and be loved by someone so special <3

I’d love to do some more specific headcanons on him but I kept these as generic as possible and tried my best to capture just how sweetboy coded he is lol.

[explorevenus]

dirty laundry ♡ re6!leon kennedy x puppy hybrid!reader

nsfw (18+) - minors dni or i will call ur mom. and also the cops

word count: 5.1k

tags/warnings: re6!leon, stubborn/reluctant puppy reader who pretends she hates him, brief chris redfield appearance, forced proximity (kinda), leon pining for u (he wants u to call him daddy btw), hybrid heat cycle shenanigans, thigh riding, dry humping, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), no use of y/n

description: leon's had a tough time figuring out his new puppy hybrid roommate... outside of the fact that she's sweet on him, and just won't admit it. lucky for leon, he comes home from a mission to find her airing her dirty laundry.

a/n: this piece was commissioned by my beloved and adored @pupthepokemonenthusiast who is one of MY FAVORITE PEOPLE ON EARTH EVER ?!!!! and i luv yapping w them and that makes collaborating w them such a dream every time....

divider by @cafekitsune !!

my masterlist ♡

my ao3 ♡

fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ;w;

-venus ♡

Loose gravel crunched beneath Leon's boots, uneven pavement glittering with moisture in the streetlights. It was somewhere between raining and snowing, the wind splattering his rosy cheeks with little drops of condensation, every breath puffing out in a visible cloud, head tilted down at just the right angle to protect the lower half of his bruised face from the cold while still being able to see where he was going.

He didn't have a specific destination in mind, and truth be told, he couldn't really read most of the signage around here anyway-- it was all in Mandarin, and his Mandarin was even less reliable than his Spanish, to put it gently. But he could read what he needed to, at least, enough to find the basics like food, bathrooms, lodging, or hospitals, and more importantly, he could discern the backlit lettering above the shop two doors down; antiques and collectibles. 

That was a phrase he'd familiarized himself with in damn near every language under the sun by now. 

A bell dinged quietly overhead as he stepped into the storefront, grateful that it was even open past 9 o'clock at night. It was only one room and didn't have much space to walk around, but every available surface was stacked to the brim with knick-knacks of all shapes, colors, sizes, and price points under no apparent system of organization. Where some might be overwhelmed or put off by the volume of things to look at, Leon felt his heart skip a beat with excitement. He still had some time to kill before his transport back to the States was due to arrive, and not a single minute of it would be wasted overlooking any potential gems. 

Judging by the horrified stares he was attracting, Leon could imagine he looked fucking insane right now, clothes still splattered with wet, rotting blood and the barrel of his gun practically still smoking in his holster as he towered over a shelf in the back corner, scrutinizing a darling little plush bear in one hand and a set of hand-painted matryoshka dolls in the other like it was the hardest decision he would ever have to make. 

Ultimately, he chose not to decide at all-- money wasn't a factor, so why not buy both? If it weren't for the issue of luggage, he'd just say 'fuck it' and buy out the whole damn store. Unfortunately, helicopters tended to be quite limited in space. 

Self control was a skill Leon used to have mastered, perhaps even too well-- for a long time, every uncomfortable, unsightly, pesky little emotion was pressed down into a condensed cube to be neatly packed away in the very back corners of his brain, boxes upon boxes of dense feelings continuing to pile up and take over more and more space up there until the pressure became too much, the lid blew, and he went off the fucking handle. It wasn't something he was proud of by any means, all those long months blurred into mush through a lens of alcoholism and other reckless behaviors, but what he did try to let himself be proud of was his relative success in making it to the other side. 

That, of course, was a feat he did not accomplish without help, nor would he ever claim to. Chris Redfield was instrumental in his recovery in more ways than one, and at times, without even realizing it. He was a listening ear, a dealer of tough love, a trusted confidant...

...and the reason he had you. 

For obvious reasons, Leon had never gone out of his way to get a pet in his adult life. It just felt irresponsible with the inconsistency and uncertainty of his work situation, even with all the money in the world to spend on trainers and walkers and boarding and... whatever else, but at that point, it would feel less like a pet than an accessory, and Leon didn't have much interest in material. Never saw the need for it. Then one day Chris woke him up in the middle of the night banging on the door to his apartment with a gift he never expected.

"She's a... what?"

"A hybrid. She's a human-canine hybrid, Leon." 

Leon glanced between you and Chris with skepticism in his eyes, only to find the same look peering back at him in you. It was almost kind of funny that he'd have a hard time believing there could be such a thing as a human-canine hybrid, considering all he'd seen in his line of work, a thought that made his shoulders and his expression relax almost instantly. 

You were a real cutie, that was for sure, tucked behind Chris and staring up at Leon through your eyelashes with this grumpy little look on your face, a plush, patchwork bear clutched to your chest. The toy was equally as vibrant and colorful as your clothing, if not a bit worn with time. Your ears were long and droopy, your tail hanging low but swishing side-to-side with cautious interest, and the longer he studied you, the more he became endeared by you. 

"The B.S.A.A. rescued a group of hybrids from an illegal facility a few weeks ago, but finding accommodations for them isn't as simple as it sounds," Chris continued, resting a hand on your shoulder in an apparent move to reassure you. "Long story short, the people who were in charge of that facility aren't too happy about the acquisition, and the hybrids aren't safe at the B.S.A.A. anymore. Would you be willing to shelter her for a while?" 

The firm look in Chris' eyes-- and the fact that he just had to bring this up with you right in front of him-- made it clear he wasn't really asking. No mind, Leon would have done it anyway. It just would have been nice to have had a heads up to rectify the state of the apartment. 

"Yeah, of course," Leon nodded gently, stepping aside to allow you and Chris further into the apartment. "Make yourself at home." He caught the way your head tilted up a bit, as if you were studying the scent in the air, and he supposed it made sense that you likely were.

That was four months ago. And for the past four months, Leon quite enjoyed having you around. You were silly and playful, always bounding around the apartment with a toy clenched between your teeth or lounging in the sunny spots in front of the windows, pawing at him for belly rubs and treats and infinite tug-o-war matches. All that being said, you were equally stubborn, resisting him at every turn like magnetic repulsion, always kicking up a fuss seemingly just for the sake of it.

He wasn't sure. You were tough to read. Not only did some of your canine personality traits make you a bit forgetful and distractible at times, but you were also just terribly inconsistent with your affections, and he wasn't always sure what to make of it. All he knew was that he was determined to win you over in one way or another, and if he was going to do that, he'd have to figure you out first, and so far that was shaping up to be quite the herculean task. At least it seemed you would be here for a while. 

With the way he guarded your little treasures during the flight home, one might assume he was smuggling something, but he just couldn't stomach the thought of coming home without something to present to you. The hardened federal agent was determined to crack a smile out of you on his terms, to get you to admit what you both knew to be true. 

You had a crush on him. A big, fat, embarrassingly all-encompassing crush on him, and you rejected the idea of owning up to it so staunchly that it was turning you into a bit of a brat. That was the one thing he could read about you, and it drove you up the wall. 

He certainly wasn't judging you. It would be an absurd lie to say he didn't have a big, fat, embarrassingly all-encompassing crush on you too-- he'd be insane if he didn't. But the back and forth was far too enjoyable, and Leon was always up for a good natured challenge. 

See, self control was something Leon had worked really, really hard to regain a handle on, and when it came to his drinking and brooding, he certainly had... but when it came to you? Not by a longshot. That being said, he would rather be pouring himself into courting you than pouring himself another bourbon. That's what he used to shut up that little voice in the back of his head that questioned whether or not he was putting too much energy into this, banking too much on it. 

It was innocent, right? It's not like you were a bad influence or whatever. If anything, a lot of nights that he would have spent at the bar were instead being spent at home playing with you. Surely that had to be a net positive, especially considering you would have otherwise been getting poked and prodded at in a lab. 

Stepping back into the apartment for the first time in weeks, Leon hadn't even bothered bringing his duffel bag in with him from the car, the only thing in his arms being the wrinkled paper bag from that antique shop. His own belongings could wait. As soon as he shut and locked the door behind him, stepping out of his shoes, the first thing he noticed was how quiet it was. 

No lively music from the shows you liked to watch, no little bumps or growls from you playing toys, no quiet padding of your feet across the hardwood from you coming to see who was at the door. He glanced at his watch, finding it was only half past nine in the evening, and while you often proclaimed to abide by a healthy bedtime for yourself, you had a habit of napping all day and bouncing off the walls all night. Something was amiss.

Stepping further into the apartment to investigate the scene, Leon peered into the living room. The lights were on, the TV was off, there were a few toys strewn about the couch and the floor, but not a glimpse of the sweet puppy who left them there. Odd. Suspicious. Maybe even staged. 

His lips came together in a whistle meant to grab your attention, knowing your sharp ears would hear it from anywhere in the apartment, even if you were sleeping. When that call garnered no response, he began to wonder if you were mad at him. After all, he was supposed to return almost three days ago, and while Chris had been able to stop by and check on you when he had the time, it just wasn't the same, and you didn't do well with loneliness, and Leon knew that. 

Turning on his heel to head deeper into the apartment, he continued to find you nowhere. Not climbing the countertops in the kitchen, or playing under the dining table, or even reluctantly having a bath. As he reached the end of the short hallway, there were only two doors left to open. 

Leon tried another whistle and called out, "Hey, pup? I'm home!" 

He waited, and listened... and heard nothing. Your bedroom door was closed, and it looked like the light was on in there, judging by the subtle glow spilling out beneath it, but still, no response. 

His bedroom door, however, was cracked open. The overhead light was off but the bedside lamp was on, and his dirty laundry basket was tipped over on the floor. When he stepped forward to turn it upright again, he thought he saw the bedding shuffle out of the corner of his eye. Closer inspection of the bed brought the case of his missing puppy girl drew to a close. Your soft tail was peeking out beneath the edge of the covers, the markings and patterns in your fur being undeniably familiar to him now. 

It was perfect timing, really-- he was just about to tip over into the realm of worrying about your safety, but now he was back to just worrying you were mad at him... and he couldn't help the amused grin that tugged at his expression. 

"Is that a little puppy in daddy's bed?" He asked aloud, his tone taking on a smitten and adoring lilt. Once again, he received no response... at least not verbally. Quietly setting down that paper bag, he stood there and watched with his arms crossed as your tail fluttered to life in response to his tone, the tip silently patting the sheets in a lazy and reluctant little wag that you might have actually gotten away with, if it weren't for the fact that your tail was in plain view. 

He was initially going to try a few more times to get a response out of you, hoping to make sure you were okay and to see if you wanted to talk, but he quickly realized that wasn't going to work with you. You weren't all doom and gloom like he tended to be, you were silly, you were playful, you were fundamentally kind. A lighthearted approach wouldn't work with him, or with most of the people he dealt with on a day-to-day basis, but it would almost certainly work with you. 

"Well," Leon stretched his arms up with a dramatic groan, "Since there's no puppies in the bed..."

And then he playfully toppled over the lump in the bedding, bracing himself on his elbows so as not to actually crush you, of course, music to his ears being the muffled squeal of stubborn discontent that sounded out from beneath the covers.

"Leon!" You whined, arms squirming around beneath him in a desperate flurry of moves to find the edge of the blanket, tugging it down to free your face for some air. Soon enough your head poked out from beneath the covers and your eyes were already narrowed into unamused slits at him. 

But that wasn't really what caught his attention about the look on your face. You were panting for breath, your ears flopped back lazily and your hair an absolute mess, your skin hot to the touch and clammy with sweat. Now his eyes were narrowed at you in suspicion, because you were certainly frustrated, just... not the kind of frustrated he was anticipating, if his suspicions were found to be correct. 

"You look guilty," He commented, brow raised as he took you by the chin and tilted your head this way and that, as though in observation. "Why do you look guilty, puppy?" 

"I'm not," You were quick to defend yourself-- much too quick, in Leon's opinion-- and you stubbornly recoiled back from his hand, continuing to squirm and resist beneath him. "You're squishing me!" 

You planted the palm of your hand dead in the center of his face in an attempt to push him away, the bedding slipping further down in the process to reveal your flushed collarbones and shoulders, both of which were bare. Were you naked? In his bed? 

He took you by the wrists to pin your hands down with ease, staring down at you in scrutiny. "Don't lie to me, sweetheart," He said, tone firm, but not unkind. "You're red as a tomato." 

With a stubborn whine, your ears flattened back against your messy head in what could only be read as shame, and that certainly wasn't what he was going for at all, even with the compromising position he had you in at the moment. It was just meant to tease you, but you looked mortified, and he could only imagine why that might be. 

"Puppy," He softened, letting go of your wrists, one hand taking you by the cheek to gently caress you. "You know I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on." 

Your mouth fell open and then snapped shut again a time or two, a clear indication that you were tripping over your words in search of the right ones. Finally, you managed, "It's... I-It's hot." 

"Then why are you all bundled up, huh?"

You didn't even really need to admit it at this point, because it was clear as day what was going on here-- after all, Chris had warned him this might happen, that hybrids could have... intense reproductive cycles-- but he also wasn't going to push it if you just wanted to ride it out on your own. He wasn't an expert on this, he didn't know exactly what you needed, and he didn't want to overstep and freak you out.

That being said, the thought that you'd retreated to his bedroom, desperate to surround yourself with his belongings in his absence just to cope with being in heat, was a remarkably good one.

This time you didn't seem to have a retort, still writhing under him and trying to push him off of you, which wasn't new behavior for you, though this time he did take it upon himself to give you some space instead of continuing to mess with you. 

"Alright, alright, relax, daddy's not making fun of you--" 

"You're not my daddy," You interjected stubbornly, but just like always, the rosy, searing blush on your face betrayed how you really felt about the topic, even as you added, "Stop trying to make me call you that!" 

Leon dearly and sincerely adored you, that much was to be sure, but your hard-headedness could run him ragged sometimes, when you'd dig your heels in so hard about things that seemed so innocuous. Whether or not you should be expected to call him daddy-- which he regularly enjoyed teasing you about but would never legitimately force you to do-- didn't feel like the biggest issue at hand here. Not by a mile. 

How was he supposed to focus on that when you were just... burning up? Panting for breath and shaking and whining? Oh dear God, this wasn't good, and for as much effort as he was putting into focusing on your wellbeing, it was becoming increasingly difficult not to focus on the way his pants were beginning to feel uncomfortably cozy in the front. He brought one hand down between you to adjust himself only to find he'd unintentionally solicited a faint, but distinctly needy moan from you in the process, presumably because you'd touched you somewhere he hadn't necessarily meant to. 

"G-Go away, Leon," You insisted, eyes screwed shut as you turned your head to the side and maintained that stubborn frown he knew so well on you. "Get off of me!" 

But your tail was wagging in an absolute blur, thumping mindlessly against the damp sheets and knocking in between his knees at an intensity that was impossible to miss. Leon's eyes narrowed and he bared his teeth in an intrigued grin before finally sitting back on his haunches, still straddling you, but at least freeing your upper half. 

"Leon, quit--" 

You poor dear, you were so, so close to finishing that sentence, if only it weren't for the way Leon swung one leg between your own, driving his knee right up to the apex until you felt the muted pressure lavish your clit. Whatever you were about to say fizzled out on your tongue and instead popped out in a string of whimpers, your back arching up off the bed. The movement caused the bedding to slip down just a little bit further, confirming his suspicion that you were in fact naked, at least from the waist up.

Taking the soft globe of your breast into the palm of his hand, Leon let his thumb brush over your already pebbled nipple and asked lowly, "Oh, c'mon, pretty puppy... you're totally sure you don't want daddy's help? I think you're just being fussy..."

Your chest rumbled with a little growl, but it was more of a moan than that, and the fiery glare on your face was the perfect image of it. You were pissed, and quite frankly, it was a good look on you. Maybe even one of his favorites. Suddenly you were baring your teeth at him too, just pretending it was in the opposite way. You were such an open book to him. 

"You're being mean," Huffed the stubborn little puppy, but of course, Leon could be meaner. 

So he was. Leon snatched the covers off the bed in one quick swipe, and what was revealed to him beneath had to have been a thousand times better than anything he might have expected. You were naked, yes, but tangled between your legs was a pair of his sweatpants, undoubtedly retrieved from the depths of the overturned laundry basket, the grey cotton soaked through in patches with slick all over the crotch and thighs. 

Fucking Christ, you weren't just getting off to the thought of him, but also the scent of him, the feeling of his clothes on your skin, and presumably, an idea not unlike what he was already teasing you with; letting you rub one out on his thigh. 

Squishing your cheeks in one hand, he said firmly, "Look at me. Do you honestly feel like I'm being mean to you?" 

There was a pause while you stared at each other, your eyes searching his own skeptically. It didn't really seem he was messing with you, no, in fact he appeared like he really wanted to help you. The back and forth was fun and he enjoyed the little game you'd made out of getting to know each other, but when it came to your comfort and wellbeing, he wasn't interested in being forced to solve puzzles. You couldn't really blame him. 

"N-No," You admitted. 

"Exactly, so just... simmer down, will you?" 

This time Leon didn't give you another chance to tell him to fuck off. He scooped you up at the waist and pulled you to your knees, drawing your body close to his until you were straddling his left thigh. Eyes wide, you stared at him stiffly, like you were too afraid to move. Huffing out a breath, he rolled his eyes with a smirk and gripped your hips, tugging you down until you were finally bearing your weight on him. 

For as fast as your pointed teeth sank into your bottom lip to quiet yourself, it didn't even matter. You still let out a pleasured whine, ears flat against your head and your tail hung low, the tip swishing in a reluctant little wag that patted the outside of his knee with every other beat. 

"You're too precious for your own damn good," He grumbled, thumbs brushing soothing circles into your hips. "Y'know that, pup?"

Breaths falling short, it felt like your head was full of warm mud, teetering for balance on your neck as your upper body tipped forward to grasp at his arms. As expected, Leon caught you effortlessly, steadying you by cupping your face in his hands so he could look you right in your braindead little eyes, your noses almost touching as your tongue lolled out in lazy gasps.

It was obvious he wasn't going to get much more out of you in the way of words at this point, so it was a damn good thing you had that pretty tail knocking about. He figured all that wiggling was the closest he'd get to a literal window into your mind. 

"Go on, then," Leon smoothed your hair away from your sticky forehead, still mindful to hold you upright. His tone was low and, as always, far too sweet for you... but it was so nice, it vibrated down to the base of your spine and made you dizzier. You were just about to fulfill what he was encouraging you to do when he added wryly, "You've already made such a mess, don't get shy on me now." 

A quiet whimper stuttered from your dry throat-- you couldn't sit still anymore, he was being evil and he knew it, downright evil... and you typically would have stuck up your nose at him and brooded on it for a while, but you didn't even have the strength of mind for that at the moment. You hardly even realized you were already rocking your hips back and forth against the clothed meat of his thigh, nails threatening to snap under the pressure as they begged to sink past his shirt and into his muscles. 

It was pleasant, sure, but it wasn't nearly enough, especially not after hours and hours and hours of tossing and turning in his bed, rubbing yourself nearly numb with your fingers and your toys and his pillows and his clothes, aching for something tangible and warm to nurse the pain away. You let your forehead rest against his own for a moment to catch your breath, hoping to find the right angle, but you just weren't getting what you needed, and the frustration alone made your glassy eyes sting with the threat of tears. 

That just wouldn't do. 

"Oh, you really made a mess, didn't you, sweet girl?" Leon cooed sympathetically, shushing your delicate cries. Thumbs skimming over your burning cheeks, he asked quietly and carefully, "Why don't you let daddy lick it up, hm?" 

Your expression scrunched up in a weak pout and your empty little head bobbed up and down in an airy nod, and just as soon as you gave him that go-ahead, he was moving to make it so. You were on your back in seconds, Leon's broad hands spreading your plush thighs apart to make space for himself between them, and for as cool and composed as he was trying to appear right now, he couldn't help the low moan that made it past him just at the sight of you. 

Sure, he'd seen more than enough by now to guess that you were wet, but you weren't just wet, you were dripping all over yourself. It was all he could do to collect as much of you on his tongue as possible, groaning at the taste and dragging you closer by your hips until he was as close as he could get, the tip of his nose buried against the curls at the lowest point of your mound as he lapped you up with abandon.

You were writhing and crying, legs kicking out at the stimulation before drawing back up to dig into his shoulders and pull him further into you, into the mess of you. He'd managed to find it somehow, to become that something tangible and warm and redefine it, unraveling you from the root with a sanguine sense of desperation that was tempered by his undying commitment to treating you like you were made of glass. 

Your tail was curling up tight against the base of your spine, your chest was heaving for breath, you couldn't keep your eyes open anymore, and he hardly could either. 

But he also couldn't stand not to. If you had the capacity to pay attention to small details, you might have noticed his eyes were just as bleary and drunk as yours were. Leon recorded your every movement in his mind like scripture from this angle, his own hips rutting down into the bed while yours bucked into his mouth, and it was only when he found the strength to pull away for air that he found a moment to reorient himself in reality. 

His lips were puffy, rosy, and slick with you as he caught his breath, two fingers toying with your puffy, aching clit in the absence of his tongue. It was almost like muscle memory for him to reach up with his free hand and pat your belly, an affectionate hum ringing from him at the near-immediate reaction it got out of you, even in a state like this. You were squirming and arching beneath him as your quivering body fought to determine priority over the attention brought by either hand, a rather endearing dilemma to have found yourself in. 

"Oh, my poor baby," Leon preened, lavishing the inside of your right thigh with kisses. "You're so cute..." 

Unable to help himself from letting you have the best of both forms of pampering, he replaced the tips of his fingers with his tongue yet again, freeing both hands to pet your soft tummy. The movements were lazy, but sure enough, your tail was going off as fast as it could while you laid there shivering and whining and clawing at him, tumbling over the edge into release before you could come up with a way to warn him first. 

As if he would have cared anyway. A warning wouldn't have changed anything. Hell, it might have even spoiled what turned out to be a dizzying moment of unabashed indulgence for him. 

Gentle, adoring hands kneading delicately at all your favorite spots, Leon willfully deprived himself of oxygen in pursuit of every drop of your syrup as it flowed from you, knowing he would come to regret being wasteful later if this should turn out to be a one-time thing. He lost himself to the throes of hedonism for several drawn out moments until he was confident you were licked clean, until he came to again and realized you had gone completely limp in the wake of your expenditure. 

Rolling over onto his back, Leon spread out just as bonelessly across the bed as you did, the both of you a sorry sight of sweat and heat. He spent several minutes trying to find a way to break the silence. With the haze of lust wearing off a bit and clearing up space in his mind for more intelligent processes, Leon was already beginning to dread the inevitable conversation this would warrant between the two of you.

Lucky for him, that was so far outside of the realm of your current train of thought... or lack thereof. You certainly felt better, but that didn't mean your brain wasn't mud anymore. Little else mattered to your muggy, muddled mind but the here and now. 

In an unexpected move, you rolled onto your side to rest your head against his chest. The way you struggled to meet his eyes was enough for him to know you were likely still struggling to talk, or maybe you just didn't really want to, but the olive branch you'd extended demonstrated your agreeable state, which was more than he could've said for you half an hour ago. 

Shit, half an hour ago he was still hoping a couple presents from his trip would win your affections, yet here he was with the taste of you lingering on his lips, your naked body curled up to him for comfort. 

Wrapping his arm tightly around you until you were tucked up comfortably into his side, Leon rested his chin atop your head and mumbled fondly, "What am I gonna do with you, huh? Can't even sleep in my own bed after a long mission 'cause this pretty little puppy made such a big mess... I hope you know how to work the washing machine."