#so were the matter-of-fact answers i gave to questions..

[mapengen-com]

Lazy Creatures

Even though Elisa knew a lot about animals, she definitely didn't expect them to be so… Lazy. Nor that penguins wouldn't wear hats.

Elisa had been buzzing with excitement about the zoo trip all week. Ever since Ingrid had casually mentioned it over breakfast on Monday, the idea had lodged itself in her brain like a catchy song she couldn’t stop humming. From that moment on, animals had dominated every conversation: what she wanted to see, what she hoped to feed, whether Bagheera could come (“absolutely not,” Mapi had said, without looking up from her toast), and several enthusiastic animal facts she’d memorized from books or made up entirely.

So by the time Saturday finally arrived, the anticipation had reached a boiling point. Elisa was practically vibrating in her car seat, clutching her slightly worn stuffed penguin against her chest like a prized possession. Her little legs kicked at the air and her eyes sparkled with giddy energy.

Mapi, in stark contrast, was slouched in the passenger seat, clutching her coffee as if it were the only thing keeping her alive. It was, in her opinion, far too early for a day off. She had on sunglasses even though it was barely bright outside. Ingrid, calm as ever behind the wheel, hummed along to the quiet music on the radio, casting sweet, gentle glances toward the backseat whenever Elisa launched into a new animal fact without warning.

They reached the zoo not long after opening, and for the first hour, the morning was nothing short of magical. Elisa was utterly entranced. Her jaw dropped at the sight of the elephants, she giggled uncontrollably watching the otters chase each other through the water, and she laughed so hard at the monkeys’ antics that Mapi nearly dropped her coffee again. Her tiny yellow camera was in a strap around her tiny neck, and every other second she took some crooked, off-focus photos.

After thirty minutes, the Spaniard carried her on her shoulders for a better view, and Ingrid walked alongside them, explaining why flamingos were pink, how snakes used their tongues to smell, and answering a barrage of very specific, sometimes bizarre questions.

And then they arrived at the giraffe enclosure.

Elisa’s eyes went wide as saucers. Giraffes. Real ones. With long legs, impossibly long necks, and tiny little horns. Her excitement tripled as she spotted the feeding platform, where people were holding out leaves of lettuce and the giraffes were gently reaching down to pluck them from the usual tiny outstretched hands.

She ran up as soon as Mapi let her get down, her penguin still under one arm, and stood on her very tiptoes, stretching her hand as high as it would go. 

But no matter how she reached or waved the lettuce around, the giraffes didn’t seem to notice her.

Other children, mostly the ones slightly taller than her, managed to get a nibble from the giraffes. Adults had no problem at all. 

But Elisa? She may as well have been invisible.

After two minutes of waiting, her enthusiasm began to crumble. She let out a dramatic huff, her cheeks puffed and flushed pink with frustration. Mapi, standing nearby, could already sense the storm brewing.

“They’re not listening to me!” Elisa declared, stomping her tiny foot with all the fury a four-year-old could muster.

“They’re not really listening to anyone,” Ingrid said gently, ever the calm and reasonable one. “They just go for whatever’s closest.”

“But it’s not fair,” she grumbled, glaring at a particularly smug-looking giraffe. “I want to feed them too.”

“You’re tiny,” Mapi pointed out, crouching beside her with a teasing grin.

“I know,” Elisa snapped, the scowl deepening.

“Want a lift?” The Spaniard offered, already holding out her hands.

Elisa hesitated just for a second, but then gave a grumpy little nod. Mapi lifted her up easily, raising her higher than any of the other kids. Elisa stretched her hand again, this time with a slightly less grumpy face.

And it worked. One of the giraffes spotted the lettuce and bent down, curling its long tongue around the leaf with practiced ease.

Elisa gasped. Her entire face lit up like someone had flipped a switch. 

“It ate it! Did you see? It ate it!”

“Yeah, I saw, peque,” Mapi chuckled, her arms secure around her small, wriggling form.

Elisa beamed and slumped against Mapi’s shoulder, now totally pleased with herself. Ingrid reached over to brush a stray curl out of her face, the warmest smile on her face.

“Feel better now?”

“Yeah,” Elisa nodded. Then, after a pause, she kept going. “But next time, I wanna be taller.”

“Good luck with that,” Mapi mumbled under her breath.

Elisa narrowed her eyes at her, but she was too happy to stay annoyed for long. She bounced back to the ground as soon as they moved on, grabbing Ingrid’s hand and swinging it with purpose.

As soon as they left the giraffe area, she was already dragging them toward the next exhibit.

“Lions!” She exclaimed, pointing eagerly at the sign with a dramatic flair. “I wanna see the lions!”

“Why are you always running?” Mapi grumbled as she trailed behind. “Your legs are, like, five centimeters long.”

Elisa ignored her entirely. She was already too busy explaining how lions roared super, super loud, right before taking a giant breath and letting out the most theatrical, not-even-remotely-scary roar either of them had ever heard.

“Very scary,” Ingrid said, biting her lip to hide a smile.

“Terrifying,” Mapi snorted.

Elisa frowned at them, then pointed solemnly at the sign beside the enclosure.

“They also sleep a lot.”

“They’re your spirit animal,” Ingrid teased, nudging Mapi with a smirk.

“I don’t sleep that much,” Mapi muttered defensively.

Both Ingrid and Elisa gave her the same unimpressed look.

“Okay, maybe I do,” she admitted, rolling her eyes. “Let’s just go see the lions.”

But as they reached the glass wall, Elisa’s excitement quickly deflated. The lions were there, but entirely uninterested in their audience. They were sprawled lazily across the rocks, eyes closed, unmoving, and completely ignoring the crowd.

Elisa pressed her face against the glass and waited.

Nothing happened.

She tried stomping again. Still nothing.

“They’re boring,” she declared, arms crossed.

“What happened to scary and loud?” Mapi asked, barely hiding her grin.

“They’re just lying there,” Elisa complained. “They don’t even care.”

“They sleep twenty hours a day,” Ingrid offered. “It’s kind of their whole thing.”

“That’s too much,” the kid said with a disgusted look.

“Tell me about it,” the Norwegian murmured, giving Mapi a side-eye.

“You’re so annoying,” the Spaniard nudged her with her hip.

“You love me.”

“No, I…”

“Elisa, tell her she loves me,” Ingrid cut her off.

Still slightly grumpy about the lions, Elisa only shrugged. 

“She does. But she’s like the lions. Too lazy to say it.”

Ingrid burst out laughing while Mapi groaned.

“That’s it. No more animal facts for you today.”

“Noooo,” Elisa whined. “I still wanna see the penguins.”

“You just called lions boring, and you want to see penguins? They don’t do much either,” Mapi gave her a look.

“Take that back,” the little one gasped, pointing an accusatory finger. “Penguins are the best.”

“Nope,” she said with a smirk.

“Ingiiii!” Elisa turned to her with a gasp of betrayal.

Ingrid, now completely used to that routine, just calmly placed a hand gently on Mapi’s shoulder. 

“Say it.”

“I’m not scared of you two.”

“Say it,” Elisa crossed her arms with all the intensity of a tiny general.

“No.”

“Okay,” Ingrid shrugged. “Then no cuddles tonight.”

“Wait,” Mapi froze.

“Nooo cuddles,” she repeated sweetly.

Mapi stared at her like she’d been personally betrayed. Elisa mirrored Ingrid’s smug expression.

Finally, Mapi gave in with a theatrical sigh. 

“Fine. Penguins are… Okay.”

“Say they’re the best.”

“Oh my god,” Mapi muttered. “They’re the best, okay?”

Elisa beamed, completely satisfied, and grabbed Ingrid’s hand again. She marched toward the penguin exhibit with the authority of someone who had just won a small war. Ingrid followed, looking far too pleased with herself, and Mapi trailed behind grumbling under her breath about how she was hopelessly outnumbered in her own home.

But when they reached the penguin exhibit and Elisa’s face lit up with pure, unfiltered joy, Mapi couldn’t even pretend to be annoyed.

Elisa pressed her face against the glass again, eyes wide as she watched the tuxedoed birds waddle and dive and dart through the water.

“They’re so fast!” She gasped, watching one zoom through like a tiny black-and-white torpedo. “Did you see that?!”

Mapi and Ingrid stood behind her, arms touching, smiles soft.

“They’re cute,” Ingrid admitted.

“Fine. They’re kinda cool,” Mapi added with a long-suffering sigh.

“Kinda?!” Elisa turned to her, scandalized. “They’re the best!”

“I already said that,” Mapi grumbled, holding up her hands. “Don’t push your luck.”

But then Elisa grew quiet. She stood there with a pensive frown, arms crossed again, staring hard at the glass.

“It’s not fair,” she muttered.

“What’s not fair?” Ingrid asked gently.

“They don’t even have hats,” she said, her voice small.

“Hats?” Ingrid blinked.

“Pingu wears a hat when he wants. And sometimes he asks for his scarf when it’s cold,” Elisa explained. “But the real penguins don’t have anything.”

“That’s because real penguins don’t wear clothes, baby,” Ingrid said, trying not to laugh.

“But what if they get cold?”

“They live in the cold. Their feathers keep them warm.”

“Pingu still looks warmer,” Elisa mumbled.

Mapi returned just in time with a water bottle and caught the tail end of that sentence. 

“Why does she look like that?”

“She’s worried the penguins are cold,” Ingrid said, biting back a laugh.

“What?” Mapi blinked.

“They don’t have hats,” Elisa repeated.

Mapi stared. “That’s it. No more zoo trips.”

“Noooo!”

“I can’t do this again,” Mapi groaned.

“You don’t understand,” Elisa huffed.

“No, I don’t,” Mapi agreed.

“Maybe next time we’ll try the aquarium,” Ingrid said, passing Elisa the bottle so she could take a sip too, a pink straw in it.

“Will the fish have hats?” Elisa asked, eyes hopeful.

Mapi dropped her head down.

“We’ll see, baby,” Ingrid said, laughing softly as she rubbed Mapi’s back.

Elisa, satisfied with that answer, happily munched on the straw, blissfully unaware that Mapi was silently questioning every life decision that had led her to this moment.

And despite herself, Mapi couldn’t stop smiling.

“I think the zoo made a mistake.”

Ingrid pressed a hand over her mouth, trying not to burst out laughing. Mapi, less subtle, just grinned.

“They should get better penguins,” Elisa continued.

“Better?” Ingrid choked out.

“Yes,” she nodded firmly. “Ones like Pingu.”

“So you think the zoo should only have penguins that look like your stuffed animal?” Mapi crouched down in front of her, resting her hands on her knees. 

“Yes.”

“That’s insane,” Mapi smirked. 

“You’re insane,” Elisa huffed. 

“Great comeback, champ,” she ruffled her hair, but Elisa was still clearly frustrated.

“Baby, just because these penguins don’t look like Pingu doesn’t mean they’re not real penguins,” Ingrid crouched beside them. 

Elisa thought about this, then looked back at the exhibit. The penguins were still waddling around, completely unaware of her disappointment. She sighed very dramatically. 

“Fine. I still like them.”

“Very generous of you,” Mapi patted her back. 

“I’m still gonna tell them they made a mistake.”

“You’re gonna complain to the zoo about their penguins?” The Spaniard barked out a laugh. 

“Yes.”

Mapi and Ingrid exchanged a look, both barely holding it together. Ingrid was the first to recover. 

“Okay. But maybe we do that after lunch?”

Elisa considered this, for a moment before she started walking again. 

“Okay. I want nuggets.”

“Of course you do.”

As they left the penguin exhibit, Elisa looked back one last time, still holding Pingu tightly. 

“Next time, they better have better penguins.”

“She’s really your kid,” Ingrid wrapped an arm around Mapi’s shoulders as they walked. 

“Tell me about it,” Mapi glanced down at Elisa, who was still mumbling to herself about how someone needed to fix the zoo. She sighed. “Yeah, okay. It’s kinda cute.”

They made their way to the zoo’s food court, where Elisa wasted no time demanding nuggets. Mapi went to get their food while Ingrid stayed with the kid, who was still deep in thought, staring off into the distance.

The Norwegian only watched her quietly for a few seconds, resting her chin in her hand. Elisa was sitting on the edge of the bench with her knees drawn up and her penguin on her lap, staring so intensely at a nearby soda machine that Ingrid wasn’t even sure she was blinking.

“Penny for your thoughts?” She asked softly.

Elisa didn’t answer right away. Then, very solemnly, she murmured.

“Do you think penguins get sad when people don’t like them?”

“What?” Ingrid blinked. 

“I like them,” she clarified quickly, squeezing Pingu’s flipper as if he needed reassurance. “But some people didn’t even stop at their exhibit. They just walked right past.”

Ingrid’s heart gave that warm little squeeze it always did when Elisa said something completely unexpected and a little too insightful for a four-year-old. She reached out and brushed her fingers through the girl’s curls.

“I think they’re okay,” she said gently. “They’ve got each other. And cold water. And lots of fish. And you like them. That’s more than enough.”

Elisa nodded slowly, mulling that over.

“But they still should have hats.”

“Of course,” Ingrid agreed immediately, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Just then, Mapi reappeared, juggling a tray with chicken nuggets, fries, and what might have been three different dipping sauces because she hadn’t decided which one they'd like the better.

“Okay, here we go. Gourmet zoo cuisine!” She slid the tray onto the table with a flourish, then raised an eyebrow at how quiet Elisa was. “Why do you look like you just solved world peace?”

“She’s thinking about penguin emotions,” Ingrid said.

“Obviously,” Mapi deadpanned.

“I’m going to be a penguin scientist when I grow up," Elisa reached for a nugget and popped it in her mouth. 

“Oh?” Ingrid smiled.

“Yeah,” she said, chewing thoughtfully. “And I’ll teach them how to wear clothes.”

“God help us,” Mapi laughed as she leaned her face into her hands. 

“But only if they want to wear them,” Elisa added quickly, already imagining a penguin fashion show. “Some might like capes. Or boots.”

“That’s very considerate,” Ingrid said.

“Maybe I’ll sew them myself,” she continued. “Pingu could help.”

“Peque,” Mapi said slowly. “Pingu has no hands.”

“He has spirit,” Elisa countered.

Ingrid laughed so hard she almost choked on a fry. Mapi shook her head in disbelief.

“She’s gonna start a penguin clothing brand,” the Norwegian whispered, leaning into Mapi’s shoulder. “We’re gonna be the parents of a penguin stylist.”

~

By the time they finished lunch, they all had somewhat recovered from the penguin-hat conversation. Mapi stretched her arms over her head, exhaling like she had just survived a battle. 

“Okay, where to next, little boss?” Mapi asked, standing and stretching with a dramatic yawn.

“Hmm…” Elisa tapped her chin, considering with utmost seriousness. “Can we see the turtles?”

“Finally, an animal that won’t make you question the laws of nature,” Mapi muttered under her breath as she ruffled Elisa’s hair. “Lead the way, Eli.”

Elisa beamed and grabbed both their hands, tugging them toward the reptile section with the confidence of someone on a mission. 

The turtle exhibit was outdoors, warm and sunny, with a big pond and a few logs and flat rocks scattered around for the turtles to bask on. A faint trickling of water sounded in the background, and a few ducks waddled nearby, uninvited but clearly at home.

As soon as they got closer, Elisa pressed herself against the railing, eyes wide.

“They’re so slow,” she whispered in awe.

“They’re supposed to be,” Ingrid said, standing behind her. “That’s how they move.”

Elisa turned her head to look at Mapi, who was taking a sip from her water bottle. 

“You’d be a turtle.”

“Excuse me?” Mapi choked.

“Because you’re slow in the mornings,” Elisa said matter-of-factly.

Ingrid burst out laughing, pressing her forehead against Mapi’s shoulder to muffle the sound. Mapi looked deeply offended. 

“I am not slow. I’m just... Conserving energy.”

“Like the turtles,” Elisa said sweetly, returning her gaze to the pond.

Mapi stared at her for a long second before letting out a long, defeated sigh. 

“Fine. I guess I’m a turtle now.”

That made the kid look smug, like she'd won something. Then she pointed eagerly at the water, eyes narrowing. 

“Can they swim?”

“Yeah,” Ingrid said. “They’re actually really good swimmers. Especially the ones with soft shells.”

“Like penguins?” Elisa gasped, as if she’d just made the most important discovery of her life.

“Yes,” she nodded. “But slower.”

“I wanna see them swim,” she squinted at the water.

“Well,” Ingrid said gently, crouching beside her. “They'll swim when they feel like it.”

“But I wanna see it now,” Elisa said, voice full of urgency.

“What do you want us to do? Ask them nicely?” Mapi raised an eyebrow.

“Yes,” she nodded seriously, as if that were the obvious solution.

“Baby, I don’t think they’ll listen,” Ingrid bit her lip, hiding a smile. “They don’t speak Spanish.”

“Or Norwegian,” Mapi added helpfully.

“Then I’ll just look at them really hard,” the kid declared, squaring her tiny shoulders and planting her feet like a superhero about to save the day.

They watched in amusement as she stared at the turtles with all the intensity she could muster. Her eyes narrowed, her brows furrowed, and she leaned forward slightly like that might help her focus her psychic turtle-commanding powers.

The turtles, blissfully unaware, continued to do nothing.

After a full minute of stillness, one shifted its leg. Slightly.

“It moved!” Elisa gasped and pointed, but then they all stilled again. “Ugh!” She threw her arms in the air. “Why is everyone at this zoo so lazy?!”

“You’re so dramatic,” Mapi cackled. 

“First the lions,” the kid said, completely ignoring her. “And now the turtles…” She turned to Ingrid, pure betrayal on her face. “Are all the animals broken today?”

“They’re not broken, baby. They just do things on their own time,” she said patiently, crouching again.

“But their time is slow,” Elisa insisted, face scrunched in frustration.

“That’s just how nature works,” Ingrid said. “Animals don’t do things just because we want them to.”

“Well, that’s dumb,” Elisa muttered, arms now tightly crossed.

“Yeah, well, that’s life, peque,” Mapi leaned on the railing beside her. 

“I liked the otters more,” Elisa huffed. “They actually did stuff. They didn’t just sit there like they forgot what legs are.”

“Do you wanna go see them again?” Ingrid offered gently.

Elisa considered it, then nodded. 

“Yes. But first, I want ice cream too.”

“Of course you do,” Mapi said, already pulling out her wallet. “You know, I think this entire trip was a ploy for snacks.”

They started walking toward the nearest snack stand. Elisa, back to holding Ingrid’s hand, looked up at her. 

“The turtles are still cute though,” she admitted quietly. “Just... Disappointing.”

“They’ll recover,” Ingrid said with a soft smile.

At the stand, Elisa picked out a chocolate ice cream with sprinkles, her mood fully restored the moment the cone was in her hand. Mapi and Ingrid grabbed theirs too, and the three of them found a shady bench near some trees.

Elisa sat swinging her feet, completely absorbed in her ice cream. Mapi leaned back with a long sigh, pulling her hair up into a loose bun.

“You know what?” Elisa said suddenly, as if they’d been in the middle of a conversation.

“What, bebé?” Mapi glanced at her.

“I still think the penguins should have hats.”

“She has a vision,” Ingrid said through a laugh while Mapi groaned and dropped her head back against the bench.

They had spent a few more hours at the zoo, Elisa regained her enthusiasm once she was reunited with the otters. By the time they made their way back to the car, she was tired but still chattering away, her ice cream-sticky fingers clutching Pingu while she sat in her booster seat.

As Mapi started the car, Ingrid stretched in the passenger seat, sighing contentedly. 

“That was a good day.”

“Yeah,” Mapi agreed, adjusting the mirror. “Except for the part where every animal refused to cooperate with her demands.”

“They were all lazy,” Elisa argued from the back seat. 

“They were just living their lives, baby,” Ingrid said, turning to smile at her.

“They should live their lives faster,” she grumbled.

“You need to learn patience, peque.”

Elisa ignored her, staring out the window, already plotting her next visit to the zoo.

“She’s a menace,” Mapi whispered to Ingrid as soon as she noticed Elisa was too distracted singing the song that was playing on the speaker. 

“She’s adorable.”

“She’s a tiny dictator.”

“She’s our tiny dictator,” Ingrid laughed.

That, Mapi couldn’t argue with. She sighed, gripping the wheel.

They both looked at Elisa again, who was now gently fixing Pingu’s tiny hat, deep in concentration, while still murmuring the lyrics. 

After a moment, she finally spoke. 

“Ingi?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Can we make hats for the penguins next time?” She asked in her most serious voice.

Mapi groaned. Ingrid laughed again.

Yeah. This was definitely their life now.

[n0tamused]

I have a request!!

Currently watching suits (highly recommend). How about a Lawyer! reader x Dr. Ratio, Sunday, and Aventurine?

₊˚⊹♡ "My partner is a lawyer!"

A/n: This request has been marinating in my inbox for way too long, but regardless, I do hope that whoever reads this enjoys it!<3 I love this request, so please feel free to request more characters for the same prompt! I missed writing Ratio chat </3 Admittedly, I did not watch Suits (shame on me ikik shut up), and so idk really how they talk on the show, so whatever I mentioned here is a dramatized version from my own knowledge in law.

Contents: Dr. Ratio/Aventurine/Sunday(separate) x GN!Lawyer!Reader, fluff

Ko-Fi |  Masterlist

✦ ⋆ ࣪.Veritas Ratio

-As a man of knowledge himself, Veritas certainly holds great appreciation for those that are keen on learning and executing the knowledge they hold, and he is most appreciative of justice - which as a natural course involves admiration for you as well

-He has heard of your achievements far long before he met you. A few times he read the articles you wrote for the local news agencies, but he held most interest for the online educational videos you put out. They were short, concise and aimed to help the people that were not in the financial situation that would allow them to seek out their own lawyer

-So when he did meet you he was full of chitter and chatter for you, all contained in a well crafted box of mannerisms and polite words. But anyone from the outside would notice that he seemed much more tolerable with you than with others

-Many months down the line and with his hand in yours, he wonders how it all came to be - him? Romantically involved with you? 

-If you have a haunch over a certain theory or a certain topic, Veritas is there with you to explore it further and give his own input on the topic. Doesn’t matter if it is a subject that’s not the most familiar to him - he is a sponge for knowledge and knows how to research efficiently.

-He respects your privacy which you uphold with your clients -that is only to be suspected of you to do, otherwise if you told him of the “tea” from your clients, he would have begun to raise an eyebrow and question your work ethics

“Dear,” he began with a huff as he came to stand in your doorway, one hand holding up papers which were clearly not his. “I found the documents you were looking for. Be more careful next time with where you put them” he said as he walked inside your shared bedroom, his slippers making the distinct noise across the floor of shliiippp-shloop. “Where were they?” you question, confusion marking your entire face as you reached out to take the documents scribbled with your handwriting. “I found them on my pile” was all he said as he crawled onto his side of the bed... .... “Veritas..” “Hmm,. yes?” “Is this your handwriting?” The answer was clear as day as you noted the long paragraphs underneath the  big block of text you wrote about a legal theory you wished to dive deeper in. You had stared at them in your sleepy daze, for a moment thinking it was your writing which you, somehow, forgot about. But no, your eyes did not deceive you. Dr. Ratio clearly spent a lot of time on this document. Did he intentionally take it from your pile? One had to wonder. His greed for knowledge sickened you.. He huffs beside you in feigned denial and you chuckle at him.

✦ ⋆ ࣪.Aventurine

-When Aventurine was served the fact you work in the legal field he gave off a crisp whistle, his first thoughts being “that must be a lot of words”, accompanied by a lighthearted jest that he now has someone who he can rely on should he get in trouble. At that you have to jokingly reprimand him and tell him to not get into any unnecessary trouble

-He might start to tease a little, throwing out little remarks that frame that stereotypical view people have on lawyers, or anyone working in the legal field for that matter

“I have cash on me right now that I’d be more than happy to pass on into your capable hands, should you agree to…pull me out of this sticky situation” he says with a wink as he waltzes into your office, his eyes taking in the shelves stacked with books old and new, as well as the statue of a blindfolded woman holding up the scales. His gloved fingertips touch one of the scales, making it tip down. His answer is a long and tired sigh.

-But one day he surprised you with a box of sweets after a particularly harrowing case, his tone unusually mellow and inviting as he invited you to join him for a walk. 

-Aventurine is not the man you go for if you want to have a chat about one legal theory or the other, but if you find yourself in a pinch and could use getting a word with someone out of your reach - Aventurine can make a few calls to help you out

“How do you even have the patience for all this?” he asks incredulously, his pointer finger touching one of the thick files resting on top of your desk. “Don’t tell me you actually read all of this” his figure seemed to deflate, shoulders sagging, face falling, trailing around the table to come up next to you. “I did..” you replied, focusing far too much on the papers before you. “You’re way too boring” he countered, followed by a quick kiss to your cheek.

✦ ⋆ ࣪.Sunday

-Before the Dream shattered, Sunday didn’t think too highly of anyone who wished to uphold justice within Penacony, deeming there was simply no need for it while he was working to set the perfect order. There is no crime, no faulty businesses or people to sue in his world, and there is no place for them either. So why should lawyers and judges exist?

-Of course, this view was nothing but another way he deceived himself into believing that the path he was following was right, just even. This view changed drastically after the shackles on his body were lifted.

-Sunday considers the job rather prestigious. If there were no people like you, or people with the same wish to bring justice and security to your society as you do, the world would be a much darker place

-He is silent in his curiosities and admiration, never directly asking you inquiries, partly due to some guilt still eating away at him from his past

-But he does not shy away entirely if you approach him first

-He knows more about the ways an old monarchy would work, but he welcomes your insight on the society you live in now and strives to build and enhance by giving yourself to this role. A part of him also worries when he sees you haunched over your table instead of resting in your quarters. Not once did you wake up with a blanket drawn up over you or a refreshing drink sat in front of you

-Sunday doesn’t quite believe it once your relationship develops into one of romance. It was most unexpected and it leaves him with more questions than answers. But now, he finally feels at ease to fire them at you

“But why?” One of his wings sags lower than the other, as if burdened by the piercings they hold. “Would that not be counterproductive or unjust, rather?” He is looking down in thought, his brows drawn closer together, although his voice carries no frustration or denial to the wisdom you were sharing. “The ones who set this law down have inspected the longest duration a pregnancy can last, even taking into account any abnormalities that can happen during the same. If the duration for this lawsuit was unlimited, it would risk the position of the man that was suspected to be the father”. A moment passes in silence, but then he nods, his wings raised back up with newfound strength and another question already filtering in through those soft grey feathers

-Conversations with him are mellow, although Sunday spends more time listening than talking himself. He lets you rave on about anything that may be making you happy or frustrated at the moment, and he is at his happiest when you return to him with another successful case under your belt.

-After a little while you may also notice Sunday becoming even more aware of his actions - suddenly he is nitpicking his wording or the actions he takes - what if someone decides to sue him for this small thing? You have to reassure him a few times that the law is not that strict, giggling while you’re at him when you see his almost fearful and alert face, wings puffy and in a cramp

Ⓒ n0tamused/jarttavia_. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[my-great-big-book-of-fan-fiction]

L Lawliet x Reader: how L handles pregnancy

Wrote this because I need fluff! Enjoy!

Lets get one thing straight, L would never expect himself to be a father

He's too busy

He's too closed off

He's too much of a target

But, on the other hand, he thought the same exact things about dating before he met you

And all you've done is bring him more joy and peace than he's ever experienced

On the other other hand, babies were entirely different

He couldn't find himself growing attached to a clump of cells, or a screaming raisin with hands

They were a lot of work, and while he had plenty of free time when he wasn't working, when he was he had to be able to devote himself to it completely

They also were loud, and smelly, and entirely uninteresting

But...you did want one very badly. He's not stupid, he can see how you look at toddlers on the street, or ads for baby bottles, or women pushing strollers

It was something you gave up in silence when you committed yourself to him, along with things such as weddings, and settling in one spot, and seeing your family often

All of that to say, his narrow success with the kira case has given him much to think about considering what he wants, what you want, and the value of his own life

He could have died

He could have died.

And what would you be left with? He didn't give you very many options, he's accidently turned you into quite the dependant person

it was the day he sentenced Light Yagami and all of his accomplices to death that he set up a will concerning everything to do with you, essentially setting you up for life. You don't know about this.

Weeks later, something that almost seems like fate strikes. You come to him, nervous, holding a pregnancy test.

You didn't want to alarm him, but your period was late, and most recently you've been experiencing morning sickness.

Turns out you're pregnant, about 4 weeks given the symptoms.

Now, you were standing in the doorway of the bathroom, test in hand, wide-eyed. He can't tell what it is, fear or excitement, or a mix of the two, but you're looking to him for solutions

"L...look..."

"What do I do?"

It's the first time he's been at a true loss for words.

It was a very good question.

What do you do?

"What would you like to do?"

He knew it wasn't that simple, but it would be nice to know your thoughts

"I...I don't know..."

"Would you..." he almost didn't want to ask

"Would you like to keep it?"

And then you were crying

it took quite a while to calm you down

But after a good, long talk, it was decided

You would keep the child

He doesn't know why he agreed or offered

He doesn't find himself to be good with kids

Maybe it was because he wanted something other than cases to do

Maybe it was because he wanted you to be happy

Either way, it wasn't a particularly good reason

In retrospect, he probably shouldn't have agreed so easily

no matter what, he was now determined to at minimum be well-read

you found that within a week, he was bombarding you with facts and questions

"Did you know ginger tea is extremely helpful with nausea? Would you like to try it?"

"The fetus should be about the size of a grain of rice, if we've calculated correctly."

"Are you feeling any tenderness around your breasts, or any mood swings?"

by the second month, he's asking questions you couldn't possibly answer

"How often did your mother pump breast milk? It would be useful to know about any aunts or cousins as well."

"They say a woman's intuition is the best tell of a baby's gender. I'm not one for superstition, but...do you have any feeling one way or the other?"

"It should be about the size of a raspberry by now."

As endearing as it was, his excitement could get a little tiring, especially when these questions were asked at 12 in the morning

That said, he more than made up for it with his patience

every time you rushed to the bathroom to throw up, he was padding after you to hold your hair and rub soothing circles across your back

Every time you had the oddest, frankly disgusting cravings, he was there to bring you pickles wrapped in ham and pepper jack cheese, or fill the sink with dishsoap so you could obsess over the smell while you ate ice

every time you sobbed over the fact that the puppies in the adoption commercials were "too cute to live in a place like this," he was there to run his fingers through your hair and assure you that puppies don't understand social injustice

he, to his own surprise, enjoys watching your belly grow, and your body change to accommodate the life inside

He swears you're glowing

In his own head, of course

He's also keeps you on a very strict schedule

at least 9 hours of sleep, three meals a day, all with the proper vitamins and proteins to support your health

You swear he worries too much, which he quickly bites back with a cool, "many things can happen during pregnancy. We must keep our odds high."

he's made part of his routine resting his head on your stomach every night before bed, with the excuse that he enjoys your fingers on his scalp

To his surprise, about 4 months in, he feels something

Like a little push, tiny and right against his face

"Oh, the baby kicked," you cooed

"Fascinating..."

Ever since then, he's kept his hand or face on you any time you sit down

When the gender reveal comes, you don't have anyone to celebrate with, besides Watari

You decide to do a cake reveal just between you and L

"What do you want? A boy, or a girl?"

"I want a baby."

Typical of him

You let him do the slicing, and at the first peek of blue, you were already screaming

"It's a boy! L, its a boy! We're having a baby boy!"

L knows you well enough to know either sex would have the exact same reaction

Despite his indifference, the reveal does solidify how real it all is

He would have a son

His son, baking inside of you, right now

It's jarring to think about

months later, 5 to be exact, L was rather nervous

"Do birth defects run in your family?"

"C-sections?"

"Have you been hydrating properly?"

You have to reassure him every time that things will be okay

It's best to distract him with questions of your own

"Do you think he'll have your eyes?"

"What should we name him?"

"I bet he'll be just as curious as you are."

The night your contractions start is the night he finally gets to put everything he learned to use

He and watari take you to the nearest hospital, go-bag and carseat already loaded, all while you pant and moan about the pain

Getting you settled in the hospital was the easiest part, luckily they had an available room

The hard part was watching someone he loved go through so much pain

The total time you spent in labor was 12 hours

L held your hand all the way through, even if he's sure you probably broke one of his fingers

"I read breathing slowly is helpful with-"

"SHUT UP, I'M PUSHING A GODDAMN WATERMELON OUT OF MY CUNT"

Needless to say, you didn't really care about facts while in active labor

When the baby finally escaped, L made sure he was handed to you as soon as possible, after all skin to skin contact is highly important for bonding

It was covered in blood and gunk and all other things, by any objective view it was utterly disgusting

But the moment it was cradled against your chest, all wrinkled and small and helpless...

He felt overwhelmed with more love than he's ever felt before

Pure, unending love

Somehow, there was a creature on this earth he loved more than you

When it was finally time for the baby to be taken for cleaning and check-up, he only sat beside you, still holding your hand, quietly waiting for his son to return

"L...we have a baby..."

"We do."

"How do you feel?"

"How do you feel?"

"...answer the damn question, I just gave birth."

"I'm worried for the future. But hopeful, as well."

When the baby finally returns, and he's offered the chance to hold him, he panics, just a little

What if he drops him?

He has to support the head

Remember to support the head

And the body as well

And don't hold him too tight

Or too loose

It isn't until he's actually in his arms that L can relax

Just a tiny thing, with a mess of black hair at the top of his coconut head

And when his son opens his big, black eyes?

L will do anything and everything for this child

For his son

[clubrevenant]

bex arched a brow at ballet babies, the name clearly doing something to her brain — the way her mouth twitched at the corners, like she was trying real hard not to picture him in a pastel hoodie with a sticker chart and a juice box. “okay, now that mental image’s gonna haunt me forever,” she muttered, but there was no venom in it. if anything, she sounded almost amused. almost. her hand lingered near the shelf beside her, fingers idly toying with a packet of sour straws she clearly had no intention of buying. her eyes were on him again though — dark, steady, not flinching away from the way he was looking at her. most people didn’t ask to know more. not really. not when they realized there was more than just the smirk and the sharp tongue. “you’re one of those, huh?” she said finally. “asks questions you actually want the answers to.” it wasn’t judgment, more like mild surprise. like he was playing a game she hadn’t expected him to be smart enough for. or maybe kind enough. she let the silence stretch for a beat longer, then shrugged, casual — or trying to be. “san diego. moved here a couple months ago. bartend some nights, promote some places that pay in chaos and free drinks. no tap shoes, no center stage, but i know how to keep a crowd’s attention when i want to.” her tone was flat, matter-of-fact, like she’d recited it before. but the glance she gave him after? that held weight. unspoken history, maybe. things she wasn’t quite willing to crack open on aisle five. then, just like that, she pivoted. “favorite dessert, though?” she asked, lips curling into a crooked grin again. “probably a lemon tart. real ones, not the freezer aisle tragedy in a plastic box. it’s the bite i like.” she tilted her head. “sweet’s fine, but i like it when it hits back a little.” she turned toward the register, like she might leave it there, might not give him any more than that — but then glanced over her shoulder and added with a faint smirk, “so if you’re really splurging, you better come correct.”

Sebastian kept his eyes trained on the woman, trying to get somewhat of a read on her. She seemed like someone who was a little rough around the edges, but has a bit of a sweetness hidden inside if you're lucky enough to uncover it. He couldn't help but to be intrigued, having the urge to learn more about her. "I mean, I'm occasionally in shows at the local community theater. But the bigger and better roles are in the bigger cities." He was at least fortunate that Portland was only about an hour away, making it a relatively easy commute back and forth unless he hit traffic. Sebastian couldn't help but laugh as the woman put two and two together when it came to his facial symmetry and his chosen career path. "The posture is the result of being in dance classes from a young age. Plus I teach ballet to the little ones at Ballet Babies. And for the record even if I had all the money in the world, a cheap convenience store Rice Krispy will still make me the happiest man." His lips instinctively tugged upwards into a smile. "So I've told you all about me. How about you tell me a little about you?" He couldn't help himself, there was something inside him that wanted to know more about her. She was just intriguing. "Ew, why would I ever offer you granola? I'm not an eighty year old grandfather," he teased with a genuine chuckle. "Tell me what your favorite dessert is and I'll make it happen. And it doesn't have to be limited to gas station treats. I'll even splurge for a cupcake, donut, or anything you're craving."

[tears-of-boredom]

being non-verbal -whether its for the forseeable future or for just a moment- is not rude, is not unkind, and neither is it unpolite.

[garez19]

a lot to share

rich! yandere x thief reader.

reader steals from her richie rich friends, yandere male, manipulation, subtle blackmailing, class distinction, 4.4k wc.

you had always wondered how it felt to be a rich kid. a real rich kid. not the upper middle class, i mean, rich kids whose parents could afford anything and everything for them. kids whose parents invest in their children’s education, their passions and aspirations without having to worry about paying the bills.

growing up you met a handful of them, and you even befriended some. you witnessed the fact that everything they -and you, for that matter- ever wanted had always been between their lips.

you were envious, even when they were certainly generous to you. why would they not be? they always had more. they could’ve always had more. and it pissed you off. the fact that you were never, no matter how hard you tried, on the same level as them made you turn into a grumpy kid most of the time. you wanted that one toy eliza had, and you didn’t want to play with it and give it back to her when the playtime was over. you wanted it to be yours. a belonging of yours.

your mother wasn’t happy in the slightest when she found the toy in your backpack. she was angry, for sure, but there was a different kind of emotion in her face; disappointed and embarrassed. still, you could only assume how much patience she needed to have to be able to have a normal conversation with you. she tried to seem understanding, and did her very best to explain what you did was not acceptable, and how eliza must’ve been very upset that her favorite toy was gone. you remained still, but your mother could see the way your upper lip was quivering.

“eliza’s mom can buy her a new one.” you said right before bursting into tears. what was the big deal? why did she have to ruin everything for you?

“that doesn’t mean you can get your hands on their belongings.” she replied, her voice sharp and stern this time. “i’m sorry.” was all you managed to let out. she gave you a sympathetic look. then she talked a bit more, and you agreed you’d give it back to her tomorrow.

“you shouldn’t do that again.” she reminded you once more. you hummed quietly. however, you still couldn’t quite understand what was truly wrong with it. even so, you did as your mother told you. but when you saw eliza with such big surprised eyes, full of joy and a beaming smile on her face, you could finally see why your mother was so upset with you.

you were happy she didn’t try to ask questions. where did you find it? why didn’t you tell me? were you the one who took it? no, none of them had crossed her mind. “thank you,” was all she said. “mom bought me a new one,” she added. “i can give it to you if you’d like.” she said while playing with the toy. you didn’t answer. you couldn’t find the right word. you were ashamed—a new emotion you’d learned very recently.

“i don’t want it.” you mastered up all your courage. the desire was always bigger. it was bigger than shame, or wrath, it was bigger than any emotion you could ever describe. but you didn’t want someone to give it to you just because it was something they wanted to get rid of.

you wanted to conquer it instead. you wanted to get your hands on it forcefully, by grabbing it and making sure that you were the one who took it.

you ended up stealing it, told your mom she gave it to you because “her mom bought her a new one.”

soon it had become a habit. you knew how wrong it was, and you knew the consequences you had to face in a scenario where you were caught. you knew you weren’t worthy of having any friends, and the excuse of “their parents can buy them a new one.” didn’t work on your conscience anymore.

but, you couldn’t stop.

you tried your best to surpass the desire. the desire to have more, to own more, and to get to have a say in what you truly wanted in this life. you tried your hardest, so much that you even avoided rich kids like the plague.

but then he came into your life with classy clothes and a car you would have only seen in your dreams.

materials don’t mean anything to me, you reminded yourself. sure, they didn’t; what got on your nerves was the fact that they had the chance to have it, maybe. maybe it was the only reason you were angry.

none of it means anything to me. you reminded yourself.

but it was hard to do so when he was there. he was kind, charismatic and intelligent. truly an overachiever, and he certainly got it all.

you have never had such desire in a long time. the last thing you had craved something so painfully was eliza’s toy.

when you ran out of patience, you already found yourself seated next to him, glancing at the notes he took in class. first it was small remarks. then you became a familiar face for him. then you were talking to him, sharing stories and making stupid jokes, asking stupid questions.

you were weird. he could almost sense something was off with you. acting sweetly and bubbly all the time, yet he could see your eyes were dull when you looked at him. it was nothing he hadn’t seen as he had always been surrounded by people like you. sly and ready to fake any kind of demeanor.

no,

what he didn’t understand was you were still trying your best to do as your mother said. just because someone is rich doesn’t mean i can get my hands on their belongings. you reminded yourself as you found a better place for your -eliza’s- toy. more than a decade had passed, and you still didn’t grow out of it.

how laughable you were.

you observed the toy very carefully, adjusting its position and rechecking again.

as i said, the desire to own something was bigger than any meaningful sense of accomplishment. and, fairly enough, rich kids could never make sense out of something so sentimental. he could never understand such emotion. he never truly craved anything. nothing ever was over his reach, which is why he could never figure out motivation of people with tenacity.

he always knew he could get whatever he wanted. his parents didn’t hesitate to spend hundreds on toys he would play with only once. he didn’t have a favorite toy, because at the end of the day, none of them was special.

he didn’t have close friends that would truly care. he didn’t know how to forge unbreakable bonds with people, because at the end of the day, he didn’t crave anything including meaningful human connections.

he didn’t have a life-time goal. sure, he had got the best grades, but it wasn’t truly because he had the motivation. he simply had endless opportunities and didn’t have anything better to do than learning new stuff that seemed somehow entertaining.

an overachiever with no real ambition in his life.

how laughable he was.

and yet you were really getting on his nerves. it was nothing new for him really, being surrounded by girls who didn’t know how to take no as an answer. girls who wanted to taste how it felt like to be with him, to be him. girls who wanted pretty boys with a lot to share.

he hated people like you. he hated that he was only a symbol of achievement and acceptance to people with materialistic values. that was exactly when he decided to go along with you. he started agreeing with whatever you wanted to do. you had a stupid idea? all ears. you wanted him to be your project partner? sure thing. you had seen a funny video? show him.

because he really wanted to see where this was going for once. he wanted to see how much you were willing to go just so you could get what you wanted. you couldn’t decide if the change was good or not. it was unexpected, and unexpected things would make your stomach upset. you enjoyed his company, true, yet you still couldn’t get your eyes off of eliza’s toy. and you sure wouldn’t try to avert your gaze on his belongings. he should’ve known better, but you could still hear your mother’s voice in your head.

hanging out with him was fun. he was only there when you actually asked him to. he didn’t need you to check up with him because, fairly enough, he couldn’t care less about you. he didn’t consider you a friend, and he most certainly had lots of things to do. the comfort of such dynamic made you feel lighter. he made you feel comfortable unlike eliza and your other friends who found you distant the moment you tried to have some time by yourself.

hanging out with you, although hard to admit, was fun. you didn’t ask about his ambitions and such topics he wouldn’t want to answer. you were just so busy with telling him how much you hated your boss and your family matters you weren’t supposed to tell anyone. you had a lot to share. you had funny stories about high school. you had recommendations on books and songs about love. you had laughs and joy to share, even when it didn’t seem genuine to him at all.

“my friend made it, wanna taste it?” you told him. he didn’t answer. you still gave him a small piece of it anyway. he could see you actually liked sharing, and it wasn’t special to him. you were annoying, sure, but you still had qualities he liked about you.

he liked not having to talk about serious matters. he liked he had someone he could be stupid with.

and unlike he had assumed, you weren’t trying to pursue him romantically. you weren’t flirting with him, and you weren’t interested in knowing his current relationship status. some compliments here and there, small jokes about how your eyes were blinded by his light, and that was pretty much it. and weirdly enough, you didn’t appreciate it when he tried to treat you to your favorite dessert.

“how do you even call this shit a dessert?” you asked him while tasting what he had. he frowned for a second. “you’re jealous it tastes like heaven.” he said. you grimaced at him before tasting it again.

you had gotten even closer by the following months. he wasn’t quite sure if he still didn’t consider you a friend. and you were happy you didn’t catch anything you wanted to own. except his car, of course, but you didn’t want to play GTA in real life anyway, so you were good.

“are you going to come to the library tomorrow?” he asked, “for the project, remember?”

you checked the date. you rechecked it.

“i’m ditching school, can we do it the day after tomorrow?” you answered.

“oh, sure. did something happen?”

“it’s my birthday tomorrow.”

he frowned. then he also checked the date. turned out, you’d never talked about the dates of your birthdays. but he was still… annoyed for some reason. the fact that he learned about it just before the day made him uneasy. why did you not tell him? who were you going to celebrate it with? why wasn’t he invited? why was he upset over it?

mom makes a big deal out of birthdays, that must be the reason.

“okay, that’s good. what are the plans tomorrow?” he tried his very best to seem uninterested. so much that he hadn’t even said ‘happy birthday in advance’ or ‘ why didn’t you tell me?’ he was unbothered. he was completely fine.

“well, i’ll just celebrate it with my friends.” you replied. he still couldn’t hear what he wanted yet. you still didn’t offer him to join. not that he cared, no, he just. it was just an old habit from his mom. that was all. yeah. nothing else.

“oh. cool.” he said, the awkwardness taking over you thanks to his 2 worded answers.

“wanna come?” you doubted he would say yes as you remembered him talking about how much he disliked such concepts due to his mom’s exaggeration.

“yes,” to your surprise he didn’t hesitate, “sure,” nor did he waste a second. you couldn’t really hide your surprise, and he felt like he was supposed to disappear from the earth for a while.

“what? was i supposed to stay and do your stupid part too?” he laughed.

“oh and, you don’t need to bring a gift,” he lifted his eyebrow as you continued, “i mean, i don’t accept gifts. so just, bring your shiny self, okay?”

he looked at you with pure terror. no gifts, on your own birthday? his mother would’ve gone crazy. but he didn’t persist. it wasn’t easy for him to understand your perspective in many cases anyway.

the next day he truly felt bad for listening to you, because even though none of the guests had any gift for you, you truly deserved anything you wanted with that elegant outfit and your lovely smile. well, not anything. the exaggeration of birthdays was passed down to him from his mother. yeah. surely that was it.

your friends wouldn’t stop asking who he was and where you met him. was he single? wait, were you seeing him? no? good. well, happy birthday, dear.

the day ended with peace and happiness. you were thankful to your friends for being there and sharing the joy. the guests were leaving, and they didn’t forget to wish you the happiest birthday one last time. everyone left, everyone except him since he needed to answer a phone call real quick.

when he was done with it, he made his way to the kitchen to let you know he was ready to leave. that was the moment he saw it: a box wrapped in glossy yellow paper, tied with navy ribbon.

“so you accept gifts?” his voice was stern, for the lack of a better word.

“uhh, i don't,” you glanced at the present. “it’s from eliza.”

“so you accept gifts,” he said once more.

“well, what, are you jealous?” you grinned. that wasn’t the deal. his mother’s weird habits was — whatever.

“of what?” he sounded defensive, “anyway, nevermind, do you want to open it?” now he was like a little boy asking his friends to open their gifts out of curiosity. “let’s see what she got.”

you nodded slowly, gently unboxing it as he watched your hands. his gaze shifted to your expression once you were done—your mouth shaped like the letter o, your eyes glossy almost like you were crying.

he had never regretted anything as badly as not getting you a present. he knew there were times his mother was right, and yeah, he really should’ve known better.

he came up with a solution the next day: another package for you. and he certainly wasn’t any different than eliza, if not worse. even though you loved him and eliza, you still didn’t want expensive stuff from them. the little kid in you still thought it wasn’t truly yours if you weren’t the one who wanted it. when he saw you hesitate, he rested his hand on his chin. “i know you accept gifts,” he said with a faint smile.

his sharp gaze was lingering in the eyes of yours. you did your utmost to get it over with as quick as you could.

you didn’t have to know how hard it was for him to pick the ideal gift out there. you didn’t have to know he went as far as asking his old classmates from highschool to help him out. he didn’t have to tell you he kept annoying his mother—telling her she was the only one he could trust on this. she was taken aback by the sudden request as she had never seen him this excited for such occasions before. normally, he would buy whatever that seemed decent enough.

it was the prettiest bracelet you had seen. simple, and very elegant in its simplicity.

it wasn’t a gift you would -or could- buy your friends, to be honest. it was probably something you could only see on top of the counter. but, you knew rich kids had a different view on such matters. eliza never hesitated to get you such presents too, and she didn’t care which brand it was (or if it even had a brand, for that matter) as long as it seemed to look good on her.

you contemplated selling the bracelet before even getting to wear it. but his eyes were focused on your wrists, leaving you little to no choice.

you wore the bracelet, gently shaking your hand to make sure it wasn’t too loose.

“it’s pretty,” you said, still ashamed of the attention from him. you couldn’t find the correct words, and you hated the awkwardness of such words, “thank you, it’s… it’s so beautiful.” you said while looking at your bracelet. he liked your expression, and was most certainly satisfied with the reaction.

“of course, i picked it, after all,” he said with a boyish grin, certainly proud of himself.

the next day he couldn’t see the bracelet on your wrist.

did you not like it? that couldn’t be it because there was no way you could fake that type of expression. you liked it, no, you adored it, there was no way you didn’t. his eyes were on your bare wrist the whole day. the day after that, and the next day too. he hadn’t said anything, but his eyes were still.

“you think she didn’t like it?” he asked his mother. she was truly confused. there was no way her son, of all people, was nervous over a birthday gift.

“she probably just doesn’t like wearing bracelets.” she said with indifference. “some people are sensitive to how things feel on their skin.”

“she could’ve just told me.” he mumbled. he would’ve get you another gift if you asked him to. it was stupid of him, really, thinking too deeply over a stupid bracelet. but, in his defense,it was for you. from him.

even though you considered selling and getting rid of it, you couldn’t get yourself daring it. you knew he had tried to play it off, but you were able to see his content expression. and just because you felt awkward wearing it, you wouldn’t just do that to him. turned out even you had principles and some ethics. you put the gift right next to eliza’s toy as they brought a similar type of discomfort to you.

he had started to pay more attention to your sense of fashion. noting what you had wore and how you styled your hair, what accessories you wore, if you did. he tried to understand your preferences in perfumes and shampoos. you -and even he himself- didn’t even realize he did it. he kept asking his mom what type of gifts girls would like. he kept keeping track of every single piece of clothing you had. but there was still no trace of the bracelet. it was completely gone. he didn’t care if you wore accessories or not, all he cared was whether you wore that one single item he had for you.

“oh, it looks so pretty,” your friend pointed at the bracelet. “is it new?”

“oh, well, it’s been a while, my friend’s given it to me as a birthday gift.” you said, looking at the accessory.

“you should wear it,” she suggested. “it’s soooo beautiful!”

you didn’t answer. the weight of the item -of the feelings included in it- made it unable to lift your arm. but, you acknowledged you were making it a big deal. nothing wrong with using what your friends gave you, no?

no one including you could find out the reason he was so cheerful and ecstatic that day. not even his mom. he kept giving kind words to his friends whenever he had the opportunity— not something people caught him doing often. he even offered help to troubled people whose assignments were due. he greeted his mother so enthusiastically that she was almost 100% sure her son was finally losing it.

he was finally losing it, but your wrist looked so pretty with his gift on it. he couldn’t shake off the feelings of craving. he wanted your attention. he wanted you to think of him whenever you looked at your wrist. throughout his life, he finally had something to hang on to, to want, to desire. and it finally made sense to him when people had their lifetime goals they wouldn’t stop thinking about. people with undying ambitions and their dedication to do whatever it would take.

he wanted to be the subject of your attention. he wanted it bad.

you were finally losing it. because the more time you spent with him, the more you realized all that character development had gone straight into the trash—and that you weren’t fixable by any means. his company was comfortable, and you liked being around him. but, still, you could sense how envious you were. how jealous you were of his stupid car, his classy outfits, his big house and his mother who had mesmerizing eyes that were identical to his. you were upset he had everything, and you were upset there was no way you could drive that stupid car once your little hangout time was over.

you were finally losing it, because he had everything you had ever dreamed of. because he had everything, and the desire made your soul rotten.

it had started off slowly. like an old crow who adored shiny objects, you started off with a glamorous ring. it was his favorite, as you recalled correctly. and then it was his pretty bracelet, though not prettier than yours. then it was the jacket from that one luxury brand. and the list was getting longer. normally, you wouldn’t go as far as this because normally, people would start grumbling about how their stuff kept getting lost.

he was confused at first, though not exactly upset. he didn’t understand your motives as he had made it clear he was okay with sharing pretty much everything he had. he liked it when you had stuff that would remind you of him. why… did you feel the need to do that? was he not clear enough?

you didn’t accept his gifts, but you were completely okay with taking whatever you liked that belonged to him. you didn’t want gifts, but you didn’t stop pocketing his stuff. he was confused, but maybe, just maybe, you wanted little things in your house that’d make you think of him? maybe you were just too much of a loser and lacked good manners to ask like a normal human being.

no matter what the case was, he wasn’t bothered at all. even if you had ill intentions, it was no big deal, because at the end of the day, it wasn’t stealing if he was aware and okay with it.

he kept getting new jackets that seemed to fit your style. he got new bracelets and made sure you saw them.

the fact that he was totally unaware made you wonder if he was truly stupid, or just richer than you had imagined. he kept getting more and more stuff, and never mentioned anything getting lost. you were completely lost because… because it didn’t make sense at all. it had started to get annoying for you. that there was no way this man wouldn’t look for his items, nor was he even aware they were gone.

it started to piss you off. and you could feel your body getting tenser whenever you glanced at his figure. there was nothing you could do that’d affect this guy. you felt yourself distancing yourself from him. at the end of the day, the only person who was losing it was you. there wasn’t a single thing he would care about losing.

well, the only exception being you.

he could see you were annoyed, though not entirely able to tell the reason. he could see you drifting apart. and worth mentioning he didn’t take it well. things were getting more complicated day by day, and understanding you had never been harder.

there was no way you could walk away. not when he finally had someone to hold onto.

“my ring got lost again,” he mumbled while you two were working on an assignment together. you looked up at him, panic in your eyes lasted only a millisecond.

“oh…” you said, not managing to form a coherent sentence.

“it’s like… the third time this has happened in two weeks.” he peered at your wrist, the bracelet was still there. he smiled softly.

“you should’ve just told me if you had wanted a ring.” his voice was warm. it was genuine, and made you terrified of such warmth.

you didn’t answer, mouth going completely dry.

“you know how hard it is to deal with authorities, right?” he asked, but his voice didn’t sound threatening at all—he was still smiling, and his voice was still the softest you’d ever heard from him.

“i…” he didn’t let you finish. “it’s okay, dear,” reassured, “sharing is caring, y’know,” you looked at his expression to catch a glimpse of contempt— to your surprise, there weren’t any.

“i just… don’t think you should be distant to people when you have their ring,” he cooed, “isn’t that right?”

he made it sound weirdly romantic. like he was the one who gave it. you had his ring, that was true, and it was almost like he was happy you did.

“i’m sorry,” you finally managed to speak up. he shaked his head. “nothing to apologize, dear, the only problem we have is,” he gazed at your hands—stripped of any jewelry, “we need to find a ring that actually fits your finger.” he smiled.

you didn’t know how it came to this, but it was too late to reject any gifts.

[kingkaisen]

— 彡 OBSESSION — TEN FORBIDDEN DESIRES EVENT

ROCKSTAR! EREN YEAGER stared into his propped-up phone camera from where he sat at his kitchen table, his emerald eyes scanning through the uncountable amount of comments rolling into his Instagram livestream.

Most of them were quite repetitive, just different variations of: ‘Eren, come to Brazil!’, ‘I love you so much!’ or ‘Next tour is when?’

He absentmindedly tugged on the strings of his black hoodie.

“My favorite color?” Eren read one of the comments aloud. “Red.”

“Can you say happy birthday to Emily?” He read. “Happy birthday Emily. Have a great one.”

The bored man continued on and on, answering questions and occasionally promoting his new rock album, which was why his managers forced him to livestream in the first place.

He, however, didn’t give a damn about promotions. Not when you happened to be on the other side of the house, watching your favorite comfort show in his bedroom.

He wanted to be with you — you, you, you. Not sitting in his kitchen, trying to boost his sales to an audience who, for the most part, cared more about his face and body rather than the chords he strung on his electric guitar.

A familiar username caught Eren’s eye. In an instant, it vanished as a wave of fresh comments rolled in, but he reached for his phone and scrolled up until his eyes landed on Connie’s username.

conmanspringer: booooo where’s your girl? we don’t wanna see you booooo

“Damn it, Connie, I could kick your ass. Please go lay down in traffic.” Eren grinned playfully at his phone. “Does anyone know how to make Connie vanish?”

Truth be told, he was happy someone asked about you no matter the reason. In fact, it sparked a new hot topic for his viewers, who all left comments asking about your whereabouts.

“She’s upstairs. She’s watching the new season of that Netflix show . . . damn, what’s it called?” Eren thought about it for a second, but when you were telling him about the show several weeks ago, well, you were coming out of the bathroom after a hot shower, and he was a little distracted.

He'd never forgive himself for forgetting the name of the show you were watching. Why would he? He was supposed to know everything about you, and he truly did, everything from your grandmother's middle name to which shoe you preferred to put on first. Some details you shared with him, but most of what he knew about you, his sweet lover, came from months of thorough "research," as he'd call it. So how . . . just how . . . could he let himself forget the show you were watching?

conmanspringer: me personally? i would’ve remembered the show if she told me

“Go to hell, Connie. She’s mine,” Eren snapped. He grabbed his phone, taking it — and, thus, his viewers — with him as he made his way to the bedroom.

Eren opened the door, his tone softening as he addressed you. “Baby? Wanna say hi to everyone?”

Oh, his fans would certainly run to social media to talk about the way Eren’s eyes were glossed over with pure love as he looked at you; the way his lips were slightly upturned from merely being in your presence.

“Sure,” you said, grabbing the remote and pausing your show.

Eren approached the side of the bed. He placed his hand on your back, indicating for you to scoot away from the headboard, and when you did, he positioned himself behind you, in between the headboard and your back. With you now lying against his chest and right in between his legs, he gave you his phone.

“Hi everyone,” you waved.

The comments were a mixture of compliments and questions from Eren’s fans, but his friends as well.

arminarlert: You look beautiful today :)

“Thank you, Armin,” you said with a grin.

Eren didn’t know if his best friend was up to something, or if he was simply being nice. Eren rubbed his hand along your thigh, grateful that his camera could only capture you and him from the chest up. That realization? Well, he was going to take advantage of it.

If you accidentally flipped the camera around, you both would have been screwed. But as he read the complimentary comments flooding in over your appearance, he couldn’t help himself, as if he was a man possessed by his raging feelings rather than logic.

conmanspringer: if you and eren don’t work out, im richer and taller than him btw

jeankirsteinmusic: Connie’s a liar, but funnily enough I actually AM taller haha

Eren moved his hand down your shorts. He pushed the soft fabric of your panties to the side. He couldn’t express his true anger. Not while he was on camera. All he could do was remind himself that you belonged to him.

Eren’s fingers found your clit. He toyed with it, all the while repeating in his head: “She’s mine. She belongs to me. This body belongs to me.”

You started to squirm. Eren was quick to move one of his legs on top of yours, holding you still.

“You’re all mine,” he thought. “All fucking mine.”

“Guys, um, I-I think I’m gonna end this live for Eren,” you stammered out, fighting to hold back a moan.

“Don’t you dare,” Eren said darkly. “Hasn’t been long enough, and everyone wanted to see you, baby.”

He swirled his finger around your clit. His dick was starting to harden. Pressing his lips against your ear, he whispered low enough for only you to hear, “I’m gonna have to eat you out later.”

The phone was starting to tremble in your grasp. You were close. He could feel your body tense up, and he quickened the pace in which he rubbed your clit.

The majority of the comments wanted to know just what Eren had whispered. At least, that was what you gathered from Eren’s little responses as he proceeded to engage with his audience as if you weren’t on the brink of an orgasm.

A comment from a fan caught Eren’s attention:

I want Eren’s girlfriend so fucking bad

That was his final straw. He snatched the phone from you with the hand that wasn’t rubbing your pussy.

“On second thought, I’m ending the live. I gotta fuck my girlfriend now, so bye.”

If your orgasm didn’t wash over you the very second he finished speaking, you would have shouted in shock. Just what was he thinking?

But, as Eren ended the livestream and tossed his phone to the other end of the bed, he clasped his hand around your neck and jaw, raising your head slightly as he sucked on your neck. He rubbed your clit more ferociously as you thrashed around from your orgasm.

Eren released your neck. He brought his lips to your ear once again. “You belong to me, don’t you? Say it.”

“I belong to- ah!”

You suddenly jumped as Eren ran his tongue across your ear.

“Couldn’t bring yourself to say it?” He mumbled. “You must really want one of those other damn fools, then huh?”

“No!” You inhaled sharply as Eren pushed two fingers into your hole.

“All the songs I’ve written about you . . . all the times I’ve made you cum over and over again . . . all the money I’ve spent spoiling you, and this is how you repay me? Can’t even tell me you belong to me? Can’t tell me you’ll stay with me forever? Do I gotta lock you up or something?”

“I’m yours, Eren. I’m yours. Please don’t stop.”

Despite your desperate plea, Eren pulled his fingers out of your pants. He moved away from his previous position behind you, walked toward the end of the bed, grabbed your ankle, and yanked you down.

“You don’t tell me what to do. Besides, I’m not convinced you believe your own words.” He stared down at you with a dark gaze as he unbuckled his belt. “I’ll make you believe it, though. I’ll show you that you’re mine, baby. Hell, I’ll show everyone. I don’t care if I have to fuck you right on stage during my next show . . . you’re mine, and everyone needs to know that. You’re mine.”

— 彡: @merakidoll @priv-rose @keriaonmarz @notgoodforlife @2n1ghts @levisfavoriteteashop @insomniacbehaivour @iwanttohitmyself @ellaumbrella1 @lil-apple-pie @prettypixigrl @crazychaoticizzy @averysmolbear @filhadaanarquia @blackdxggr @jaegergirl @gunslxtz @koikohib @thequeenofcurses

[lizzybeeee]

DATV Spoilers - The Story We Lost

Posted earlier that I was compiling a list of lore/story threads that have been dropped with DATV's handling of Southern Thedas. The sheer number of things means that I've made this into two parts - this one focusing on all the story threads that have been effectively dropped.

Spoilers for the game ahead, of course.

If you've played the game then you'll know that Southern Thedas - everything from the past three games - was basically swept away by the blight.

A double blight should have catastrophic consequences for the entirety of Thedas, I don’t deny that, it’s nothing short of a mass extinction event – the absolute worst case scenario for all of Thedas.

However, waving away the fact that Southern Thedas - specifically every area you ever traveled to and interacted with in previous games – is gone, devastated by the blight, in a codex entry and line of dialogue makes it abundantly clear that BioWare is attempting to clean the slate so that they can move forwards with the game series with no ties to the previous ones.

The Warden, Hawke, and the Inquisitor effectively accomplished nothing.

As I put it in another post: I never expected them to consider every decision in game outside of the three options they gave us, but I certainly didn’t expect them to go scorched earth on the possibility of ever seeing the results of those decisions either.

How the lore has been handled in this game, summarized to “the elves did it” and “there’s been a shadowy organization in the shadows pulling the strings on everything” is absolutely devastating to the franchise.

The lack of care with which this was treated just bleeds, “There, we’ve answered all questions and finished with this era of Thedas. Moving on now.” At the same time, this destruction absolutely obliterated whatever story threads remained from the first three games.

Could BioWare bring these threads back? Yes, I suppose. But it doesn't change that it was so carelessly thrown aside in the first place.

If they didn't want people to care about their decisions and the impact they made on the world, perhaps they shouldn't have made that a feature of all the previous games.

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Story Threads/ Plot Points that were dropped:

Limited my points to what was in the Dragon Age Keep and what points were brought up frequently in codex entries, conversations, etc...

Edit: I never expected all of these points to be answered in DATV - this is just a list of what was effectively brushed to the side through very bad handling of lore and story.

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Dragon Age: Origins

What is the line of succession in Ferelden?

Things are looking very grim for Ferelden's succession and the Theirin/MacTir line if nothing is done. And nothing was done. The entire plot of DAO literally culminated in resolving this issue, yet no one seems to have learnt a thing from it?

- Anora ruling alone is unmarried with no heir - Alistair ruling alone is unmarried with no heir - Ruling together they have no heir - Alistair and a Cousland Queen have no heir - Anora and a Cousland King-Consort have no heir

The only potential candidate that can fit into several of those world states is Kieran.

Fergus Cousland, according to lore, is the second closest to the throne that is confirmed to be alive in DAI - potentially the brother in-law to the King/Queen of Ferelden.

Ferelden's succession with Alistair as King hinges on whether or not the Warden was able to cure the blight. Alternatively, it is hinted that he may be more resistant since he has dragon blood in him from Calenhad.

The potential implications of Kieran being the bastard son of the King of Ferelden.

Kieran being used as a political pawn to depose Anora using the Theirin bloodline.

DAI took away whatever destiny Kieran had with the Old God soul – that didn’t mean that BioWare had to take away everything else too. Regardless, it doesn't matter. Denerim and Redcliffe have fallen to the Blight - it's unlikely that any of this will ever be brought up again.

2. Did the Warden find a cure?

Unknown. Irrelevant.

Ferelden ended up blighted. Denerim fell. If Ferelden rises from the ashes, it will be without any sign of their influence. Any mention of them will likely be their title alone - no mention of their accomplishments.

3. General Questions about the Landsmeet

What happened to Anora if Alistair is named King? Who rules the teyrnir of Gwaren following the blight?

What happens to Alistair if he's exiled? We know Teagan finds him in DA2 but what happens after?

If Leliana becomes divine does that mean that Connor Guerrin is potentially an heir to Redcliffe?

4. Companion Plot Threads

Morrigan's sisters - the many daughters of Flemeth.

Shale's quest to reverse the process of becoming a golem.

Whatever the hell Nathaniel Howe was going on about when you run into him in DA2 in the blighted thaig.

What, if anything, Avernus leaned from spending a literal age or two studying blighted blood.

5. Zevran's Crusade against the Crows

RIP Zevran's one-man crusade against the Crows and their child slavery ring.

DATV messed up immensely by portraying the Crows as more of a ‘found family’ rather than the horrifically abusive organization it was set up to be.

The very same organization that preys on the weak and disenfranchised - honing them to be tools for the nobles/powerful of Thedas - are now the heroic freedom fighters of Antiva.

The literal decade he spent hunting down the Crows and their leaders is up in flames. No mention in DATV whatsoever.

Wasted a perfectly good opportunity to have a schism in the Crows, with Zevran at the helm of kicking out the antaam, taking in Crows who are are sick of what's happening.

6. The Dwarves of Orzammar

The impact of Bhelen/Harrowmont's reign - ruthless progression verses strict traditionalism

The rumours of an uprising of the casteless dwarves in DAI

Will we ever hear of noble House Brosca or Queen/Lady Rica? Nope.

Will we ever hear of the son that Aeducan can have with Mardy? Nope. (RIP Duncan Jnr - I still love you)

The Anvil of the Void and potential links it may have to the Titans.

If Branka lives what happened to her?

No more fine goods direct from Orzammar

The entire caste system has been simplified by Harding in DATV to effectively be: 'surface dwarves' and 'deep roads' dwarves.

7. The Magisters Sidereal / Awakened Darkspawn

According to a codex in the Descent: one went mad, consumed another, and the final magister fled into the Deep Roads.

Corypheous + Codex Magister + the Architect (most likely) = 4/5 magisters remaining? Possibly?

Reminder that it's hinted that there's an eighth Old God that was struck from the records of Tevinter.

The Architect and his Awakened Darkspawn.

No, it was all the elves. They're all dead now anyway. Thanks BioWare.

8. The Guardian and the Urn of Sacred Ashes

"Where did you come from, where did you go? Nobody in Thedas will ever knowwwww."

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Dragon Age 2

Dragon Age 2 was pretty self-contained, with most things being tied up in Trespasser or DAI. The worst of the plot points abandoned relate to the companions in the game and the lack of closure/answers about them.

General Questions:

Kirkwalls, apparently, endless line of 'provisional' viscounts and constant political instability since Varric ran off to go after Solas.

According to DA: Absolution the Red Templars are still in Kirkwall...yet the show is set after Trespasser - when Varric is viscount? When he mentions that they threw a parade when getting Meredith out of the Gallows?

Aveline, Varric, Merrill and whoever remains of the Kirkwall crew apparently just allowing red templars take over the Gallows?

What happened to Petrice if she lived?

What happened to Feynriel if he went to Tevinter?

If Hawke lives following DAI - where are they?

I have a whole list of lore that's also been brushed over: the Sundermount, Corypheous, the Band of Three etc... I decided to put them in Part 2 since I feel they fit in more with 'lore obliterated' rather than 'abandoned plot points'.

2. Companions

Merrill's Eluvian:

Merrill spent years fixing an eluvian with a piece of string, a potato, and some gum - managing to actually do it.

And it meant nothing.

Eluvians are now a fast travel hub - all mysticism and awe at this marvel of magic are completely gone. Whatever sacrifices Merrill went through to save her sliver of elven history is meaningless.

Imagine if Merrill's eluvian aided in the fight against Solas - if having it intact gave you an advantage against him. Imagine Merrill weeping as Bellara fixes every other single eluvian in ten seconds with her magical omnitool.

Fenris and Slavery in Tevinter:

DATV utterly trivializing slavery in Tevinter is abominable.

Disregarding everything Fenris went through, everything he ever fought for, and making it something barely touched upon in DATV is insanity.

You wouldn't know there was slavery in Tevinter if the Shadow Dragons didn't drop a line or two about it.

Fenris' entire story of going to help free the slaves is diminished because no one wanted to show the ugly, dark side of Tevinter in DATV.

DATV has retroactively made this choice for him to be so unfulfilling.

Where is Anders?

What happened with Sebastian's crusade against Anders? Was he ever captured? Was he executed? Are you telling me that no templars ever pursued this man fanatically after what happened in Kirkwall?

Does his fate vary if Hawke was friends/romanced him?

Varric appointing a new Viscount’s Keep healer called ‘Banders’ who just happens to sleep in the same room as Hawke and their children call him ‘daddy’ lmao

Does his fate vary according to who is Divine? Vivienne hunts him down, Cassandra puts him on trial, while Leliana pardons him?

How does he react to Leliana abolishing the Circles? How much does he weep when the rebellion fails and the mages are destroyed? This man instigated the starting event for DAI and drove most of DA2's major plot and he's just...gone.

The Hawke Siblings:

From DAI we know that Warden Bethany/Carver are safe, but what happened to them if they're in the Circle?

Give us Knight-Commander Carver and First Enchanter Bethany Hawke, you cowards! Have them dismantle the Gallows and be the shining examples of human decency we know they are.

What happens to them after DAI and the Mage/Templar War is concluded? In a world that can embrace or reject them - how do they find their place?

Varric

Trespasser gave him a satisfying conclusion - he's viscount, he's in his shit hole of a city, he's surrounded by the people that he loves and cares about. He has the chance to truly build up Kirkwall after all the shit its gone through.

It just feels so bitter, so meaningless, that they gave him the end that they did in DATV. Varric should never have been the one to go after Solas - the only reason it was him was because he's a popular character in the franchise and was used to draw interest.

Why not Cole?! Who was literally mentioned in Trespasser as being on hand to help his friends - who has the ability to get through to Solas in a way no one else could?

No proper send off - no acknowledgement from those who loved him as to his fate...Varric was reduced to a marketing gimmick to draw people in who wanted to see if he died or not.

Isabela

Isabela's story was brought to a close in DAI - she became an admiral, got a fancy hat, helped the Inquisition, and kept in contact with those she loved/Hawke if defended from the arishok.

Imagine bringing her back in a terrible outfit, having the most sex/gender positive character misgender another person, and making her part of the group that steals cultural artifacts from others.

The tomb of Koslun and Aveline would like a word with you?!

The entire Lords of Fortune group is also extremely bland? No commentary on the ethics/effects of colonialism/cultural appropriation - because confrontational topics/ideas are not allowed in this game. Just like topics of slavery/indoctrination.

Her entire character just seems to have regressed from DA2. Why bother having her cameo in the game if she's not going to meaningfully contribute/comment on whats happening?

Edit - Thanks to bunnyiscthulhu for reminding me that Isabela's mother sold her into marriage...yet she does nothing when Taash's mother is outright forcing them into a life they don't want. Isabela, who believed that everybody should be free - that no one should be forced into a life they don't want, just...lets it happen to another person?

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Dragon Age: Inquisition

What's going to happen to the Red Lyrium that's popped up across all of Thedas?

Ferelden, Orlais, Kirkwall - all areas are reported to have red lyrium on the surface.

What happens to the Red Lyrium in Suledin?

DAI speaks about how they can never stop the spread of red lyrium, only slow it – animals, insects, organisms - whatever life is in the ground is all susceptible to becoming blighted by red lyrium. Suledin Keep in particular was utterly devastated by the Red Templars - what happens to life there?

2. What happened to Corypheous' Inner Circle?

What happened to Samson? How long did he live *if* he’s given the chance to help Cullen? Can something good come from his cooperation?

What happened to Calpernia?

Looking at previous concept art for DATV she was a companion - freeing slaves, gossiping about Samson & Corypheous. Just...what a waste. Any potential insight we could have gotten into Corypheous is gone.

3. The Mage / Templar War:

How does the world vary if you conscripted vs allied with either?

How do the remnants of what faction was not chosen fit into this new world?

How does the world deal with abominations and weird magic shit now? Is an alternative to the Order made if it's wiped out in DAI?

How is Cullen's templar clinic doing? If the templars still exist, how is Divine Victoria changing/adapting the Order to better support mages/templars?

4. Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts:

How do Orlesian politics reflect who was made ruler?

Is Gaspard looking to expand into Ferelden once more? Are the elves being brutalized under his rule like they were by his chevaliers? Does he do away with the grand game like he threatened in DAI?

How does this differ if Briala has collared him? How do his supporters feel that Briala has his balls in a vice?

Do Celene and Briala stay together? Do things improve for the elves and for the culture of Orlais at large?

Do improvements for the elves mean that Solas' arguments to his elven agents are less persuasive?

If Florianne is alive what the hell is going to happen to her? How quickly does she fall on her blade after being forced to wear flat shoes for the rest of her life?

How quickly does shit fall apart if you get all three to cooperate lmao

Friendly reminder that DATV sets up that all of Orlais, except for the Winter Palace has been overrun by the Blight - and that a coup from the Venatori is inevitable, likely resulting in any ruler dying.

5. What is the line of succession in Orlais?!

Why does every noble family in Thedas have no contingency plans for if their head of government dies?!

Part of why we needed to resolve the leadership problem in DAI was because there was no clear, direct heir if Celene died!

Celene has no heir Gaspard has no heir

Florianne planned to frame Gaspard, murdering Celene herself, leaving no clear heir to the throne - Orlais was already in a civil war, the council of heralds/nobles would have all campaigned in their own interests...that was why this was so important!

Orlais shortsightedness and pride in their nation being the greatest in Thedas led to them almost falling in a single night!

6. Here Lies the Abyss:

What are the ramifications of having the Warden's exiled verses remaining in the south?

Trespasser literally states that there's a schism in the Order because some Warden's believe they should touch grass more often and not listen to some bloke up in Weisshaupt for what they do down in the south.

Perfect opportunity to have the wardens remaining in the south mean something! Greater numbers in the south means that there's a greater chance of holding against the blight - while greater numbers in the north can effect if Antiva/Tevinter end up blighted in the first attack!

How does public perception towards the Wardens/King of Ferelden change when they learn they were exiled for committing human sacrifice to demons?!

Give us a warden coup and First Warden Alistair / Blackwall, you cowards!

7. The Well of Sorrows:

What was the point of drinking Mythal's bathwater?!

It's been set up as something that changes you. Bound to Mythal forever?!

Retroactively, Solas feels like he's going mental about nothing! One of the few times he ever breaks - he begs you not to - and...for what? Nothing.

DATV does not acknowledge that in the slightest. Such a waste and disappointment of what was made out to be an impactful decision in DAI.

Imagine if the Inquisitor drinking from the well made us forced to fight against them during the fight with Solas - imagine if Solas, in a world state who hated the Inquisitor, used them as a puppet! Just like the envy demon in DAI - and no one notices until its too late. Imagine Mythal herself, wanting Solas to go through with his plan - (or one of the other evanuris) using an Inquisitor/Lavellan he loved as a puppet - imagine the horror he feels as another one of his friends is reduced to nothing more than a mindless slave of the evanuris once more. Imagine the devastation as he watches Lavellan lose all sense of self - perhaps swaying him to, maybe, not go through with his plan?! Imagine having Cole come back to help save the Inquisitor - or Solas begging Rook to save them.

8. DLC Implications:

What happens if Hakkon is not slain? What happens to Southern Ferelden and the Avaar?

How does the rest of Thedas react to the truth of what happened at Red Crossing and the Dales? How do they react to learning that Inquisitor Ameridan - First Inquisitor and leader of the Seekers - was a dalish, elven mage?

What happens if you do not save the mines in the Descent DLC? How badly is Orzammars economy crippled? There are already rumours of riots occurring within Orzammar - it this enough to push the caste system over the edge?

9. Elven Uprising and the War with the Qun:

The elven uprising that was implied to be occuring all over Thedas as a result of years of oppression, systematic abuse, and Solas’ influence? What happened to it?

Where are the agents of fen'harel?!

It was set up that Solas was planning to use this rebellion as a smokescreen for his plans - the elves, all rebelling for good reason, rallying to his cause while Solas planned to restore the world that once was. The rest of Thedas would only see an elven uprising, not knowing the true face behind it until it was too late!

The war between Tevinter and the Qun?!

Everyone conveniently forgetting that the Qun literally attempted to assassinate every noble family in Thedas? Why was there no exalted march because of this? This should have destroyed any accord between the chantry and the qun. There would absolutely be blood for this – Tevinter could have attacked the Qun and all of Southern Thedas would have applauded - no one would have differentiated between extremist qunari and the normal qun, especially not after Kirkwall.

The implication at the end of Trespasser that we could convince Solas to abandon his plans? Him saying that he welcomed giving us the chance?!

The difference that the Inquisitors friendship, love, or hatred could have in either convincing Solas to take another path or damning him to go ahaead with his plan, no matter the cost?

Have our decisions in previous games matter! How we treated the elves - if we worked to better their lives or 'put them in their place' - can be used to convince him that the world can change! Have the ripple effects of these decisions be seen when the elven gods return, blighted - does the world turn against the elves, hardening Solas, or does the world defend the elves from those who would blame them?

Why was Sandal in the Crossroads?! Where is Bodahn?!

10. Divine Victoria!

How does the world of Thedas change with Leliana, Cassandra, or Vivienne at the head of the chantry?

How does Tevinter react to having a mage divine?!

Do relations change between both nations because of this?

Leliana allowing elves, dwarves, and even qunari to join the Chantry! Leliana also allowing members of the chantry to get married if she's romanced by the warden.

What happened to the Seekers? Are they being rebuilt?

Does the chantry inform the masses, the rest of the mages, that they can CURE tranquility?!

If either Leliana or Cassandra was romanced - what are the implications that may have on the chantry?

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

No wonder the writers insisted that none of the past choices would have an impact on Veilguard - they literally went scorched earth on everything we ever did.

Ferelden is blighted - any legacy of the warden is gone.

Kirkwall is destroyed - any impact Hawke had is gone.

The hard won peace/order of the Inquisition was rendered meaningless since every single place that you went to and helped is now destroyed by the blight.

Orlais' ruler will likely be assassinated by the venatori who are plotting a coup with the nobles - making whomever you chose obsolete.

AND IT WAS ALL THE WORK OF THE MAGICAL ILLUMINATI FROM ACROSS THE SEA???

[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru

TW: implied noncon, yandere

fem reader

The way Gojo Senpai is so obnoxious, he doesn’t understand his flirting is making you uncomfortable…

He seriously thinks he’s making you fall head over heels in love with him even when you give him nothing in return to make him think that. He just thinks you’re embarrassed and nervous, flustered by his attention, and that’s the reason you divert your gaze and bite your lip when he has you against the lockers, leaning on his hand with his shades gliding low on his nose—telling you that you have no shot becoming a sorcerer, but that you look too cute in the uniform not to give it your best try. 

“Don’t worry, just say my name, and I’ll come save you,” he’ll say. “You can be my personal assistant supervisor instead.” 

His game isn’t anything to brag about. It's more in line with bullying than flirting, but you pick up on the suggestiveness. That heated saccharine look within his blue eyes can only mean one thing if the way he plays with your hair isn’t enough of a hint already.

But his words are nothing short of derogatory, and all in all, he simply makes you feel gross—a sentiment you thought you put across, but it seems that having six eyes only makes you blind.

It takes Shoko telling him to leave the poor Kohai alone for him to finally understand that you don’t like him. And then he’s just confused and embarrassed.

And a tinge bit irritated.

Gojo knows for a fact he could make any girl want him. Even those who seem to hate him would melt if he gave them the same attention he’s been giving you. Any girl. He could have any girl, but he chose you. And you reject him?

No. He can’t accept that.

“Most girls would be grateful for my attention,” He states plainly after having tracked you down.

Your head snapped, jolting. “Gojo Senpai—” You dropped the mop in your hands with a clatter, having been deep in your own thoughts on classroom cleaning duty. You sighed as the scare settled, giving a breathy laugh, “You scared me—”

“Is that it?” he interrupted. “I scare you?”

You quirked a brow with a tilt of your head. “What?”

“Do I scare you?” he repeated, louder, posted on the threshold in a stance you’d never seen him in—stiff and squared, not his usual lazy laidbackness.

Confused, your eyes looked around as if searching for clues but came up emptyhanded, “Uhm, I don’t understand—”

“It’s a simple question,” he said, cutting you off again, this time with a step into the classroom. He talked slowly, cradling the next words, “Are you scared of me?”

Where it all came from, you hadn’t a clue. But then again, Gojo Senpai has always been rather strange. 

Were you scared of him? It’s not really something you’ve ever thought about. Sure, if you were to go one versus one with him, you’d probably piss yourself. But in a regular setting, you just found him to be as grating as the next person.

“I don’t think so?” you end up answering.

“Good. So what is it then?” His shades were low enough for his stare to skim over. Brighter than clear skies, and yet, somehow, so dark. “Why don’t you like me.”

Oh, so he’s figured it out on his own then. It’s about time. And thank fuck for it—saves you the trouble of breaking it to him yourself. Though you were still left with the unfair task of telling him why.

“Honestly, Gojo Senpai, I’m not, or well… you’re just not my type.”

Stick to the basics, is what you told yourself. There’s no need to drag this out.

“Yeah, I figured. I’m asking why,” he countered, in complete disagreement with your thought.

Still, you wanted to fight for it. “Does it really matter?”

“Yes.”

This conversation was the last thing you wanted, but it seemed the white-haired prodigy wouldn’t leave without having it.

“Well…” you started, still pondering. Maybe he’d appreciate the honesty? He’s a rather straightforward guy himself. “I mean, there’s no way you don’t already know this, but—” You picked up the broom again mid-sentence. “You’re really obnoxious.”

He took a small second before he scoffed, “So? No one else cares.”

It reminded you of arguing with someone half your age—the petty anger in an ill-thought-through comment slung at you as if it carried all the weight in the world. But what everyone else thought of him hadn’t anything to do with you—and even so, out of the people on campus, you’re certain you’re not the only one who finds his attitude unpleasant—they just don’t tell it to his face. 

You had half the mind to tell him to go get a grip, but he was still your Senpai.

“Good for you, I guess?” You weren’t really looking to fight with him, after all. “So you can flirt with literally anyone else then,” you dismiss him and go back to finish cleaning the classroom—glad to have put it all behind you. You were starting to fear he’d never leave you alone.

There’s a woosh, then the hard thunk of your back hitting the wall. Both your upper arms are gripped tight, pinned. When you open your eyes again after adjusting to the impact, you look straight up into the full view of two crisp comet blues.

“You’re mighty rude for a Kohai. You know that?”

Your head stings. You blink crookedly.

“Senpai—”

“Maybe I’ve misjudged you. D’you have anythin’ for show to back that attitude up?” It’s eerie how he says it in the same flirty fashion he would otherwise—even the look in his eyes are the same. But his grip tightens.

“I don’t want to fight—”

“No?” he cuts you off with a pout. “I could've sworn you were asking for it—all but begging for it a second ago.”

You whimper, cowering at the sudden bite in his voice.

“What’s the matter, huh? I thought you said you weren’t scared?”

Your voice comes out weak, “Please, Gojo Senpai, I—”

“Please?” he questions brightly, eyes stark and burning like a stovetop. “Yeah, that’s got a nicer ring to it—suits you better.” The smile that splits across his face is nothing short of unhinged. “But it’s not enough for me to let your disrespect slide.” He licks his lips, and a chill runs up your spine, feeling like caught prey. “Lucky you, I know exactly what price to put on it.”

His mouth devour yours the same way—pouncing like a beast would, with teeth more than lips, then a tongue. You whine as you twist—it’s more instinctive than deliberate when your knee shoots up into the unprotected space between his legs—right into that thing that was rubbing and rutting against you.

You make a run for it as he staggers back with a hiss, but you don’t make it farther than three measly steps before you’re bent over the closest desk.

His fist wrangles your hair, using it to shove you face-down against the wood—the weight of his body on top of your back with his voice raspy against your ear. “We could’ve left this with a kiss, but I don’t think it’s gonna be that easy now.”

Tears spill hotly in a panic, but no matter how much strength you put into lifting yourself up, you remain down. Sobbing, “Let go—help—”

He snickers with a hand under your skirt, spidering delicately up your thigh. “Who’re you callin’ for help, hm? I’m already here.”

♡ GOJO SATORU masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

[societyfolklore]

Mine. Always.

Title: Mine. Always.

Pairing: Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Female Reader

Summary:  Bucky closes off post rut, and his little needy omega make a play to entice him back in.

Word Count: 4.1K

Warnings: /Explicit Content / 18+, Minors DNI Alpha/Beta/Omega AU, mentions of violence in Rut, Fingers, oral sex (F receiving), Unprotected sex, knotting, breeding kink – No beta…

A/N:  I refuse to be sorry for this… first time writing this trope, so yeah forgive that… But yeah.. The tension had been unbearable.

Bucky had been distant for days, maybe a week, and it was slowly eating you alive. You knew why. His rut had passed. It had been intense, overwhelming, a raw storm of need that left you both spent, tangled together for days in a haze of heat and instinct. He had taken you, claimed you, knotted you over and over until you were shaking, boneless, utterly his. He’d been rough-brutal in his hunger-but that wasn’t new, he was an enhanced soldier, the fact you could get out of the bed and walk was a sign of his restraint. You’d wandered around the apartment after, quietly enjoying the collection of marks left in his wake, proof that you’d been perfect, proof of how much you both needed each other. ‘War wounds’ for an alpha that made your world turn. And yet now, when it should have been the time to bask in the aftermath, to touch and reassure, to settle into the closeness the bond demanded, he was pulling away.

Short answers. Distant gazes. Nights where he wouldn’t even touch you. A wall forming between you, thick and impenetrable, and no matter how much you reached out, he kept retreating.

It wasn’t just emotional distance. You noticed how moody he had gotten, how he snapped at even the smallest things, how his body language screamed tension. Out in public, he wouldn’t let anyone near you-where before, he would keep you caged against him, touching constantly, his presence a looming, possessive force, now he stood just behind you, a silent and rigid shadow. His glare cut through any poor soul who strayed too close, the occasional warning growl slipping past his clenched teeth, but the contact was gone, the warmth of his touch absent. You caught the way his hand flexed at his side, like he was seconds from lashing out. But once you were back home, in your supposed haven, he’d pull away, shut down. The possessiveness, the aggression, it all melted into something sullen and distant, leaving you cold in his absence.

It hurt. God, it hurt. Not being able to touch him, to soothe him, to do what you were meant to do as his omega-it made your chest ache with longing, with need. He had been so good to you, so perfect during your heats. He gave himself to you completely, spent himself entirely just to make sure you made it through. He had held you through every fevered night, knotted you again and again until you were full, sated, and safe. He cared for you in ways no other alpha ever could, ensuring you never had to endure a second of suffering alone.

So why wouldn't he let you do the same for him now?

Your instincts screamed at you to help, to comfort, to ease the strain on him, but he wouldn't let you. And the more he shut you out, the more the doubt crept in. Had you not been good during his rut? Had you not kept him satisfied, not given him enough? The thought alone made the omega inside you whine and ache, a hollow, twisting sensation burrowing deep in your chest. Was he now regretting his claim? Did he not want you anymore? Was that it? Had you failed him in some way? The questions haunted you, eating away at your resolve, leaving you raw and desperate.

His scent still made you weak, still made your knees tremble and your pulse race, but now it only served as a painful reminder of what you couldn't have. You were supposed to help him, supposed to ease his suffering, but he was keeping you at arm’s length, shutting you out when all you wanted was to be let in. To be his.

It was driving you insane.

You noticed the other changes too. The way he was spending more time in bed, curling into himself, avoiding the world. He only showered in the mornings now, before he left, as if scrubbing your scent from his skin. Worst of all, he only seemed to come to bed after you had already fallen asleep, slipping under the covers just late enough to make sure you couldn’t snuggle up against him. It was deliberate, intentional. Like he was making sure you couldn’t comfort him, couldn’t be close. As if he was denying himself the one thing that would make it easier.

And then there was the fixing. His routine of checking the doors and windows had turned obsessive, looping again and again each night before he could even attempt to sleep. His hands fidgeted with anything he could, tightening screws, adjusting cabinets, securing things that didn’t need securing. Anything to keep his mind busy, anything to keep from acknowledging what was happening inside him.

He wasn’t even eating with you anymore, standing at the counter instead, shovelling food into his mouth between tasks. Like even sitting with you at the table, sharing a meal, was too much. It was just another wall, another way he kept you at a distance, and it was starting to break you apart.

So you took matters into your own hands.

You spent the entire day preparing, picking out the perfect lace set, something soft and delicate to contrast the raw edge of what had passed between you. Something that would remind him. You stood in front of the mirror, taking yourself in. The soft lace sat firm along your curves, accentuating the places you knew he adored, but it still wasn’t enough. This wasn’t just about seduction-it was about staking your claim. About reminding him of what you were to each other.

You were his. He was yours. That was what the mark meant. What your bond was supposed to be. And if he wasn’t going to come to you, if he was going to keep denying what you both needed, then you would make him remember.

With that thought, you reached for the last touch-one of his flannel shirts. Slipping it over your shoulders, you wrapped yourself in the scent of him, letting it settle deep in your lungs. It eased the ache between your legs, soothed the hollow pain in your chest just a little. But it wasn’t enough. Not when he was right there, so close, yet refusing to let himself have what he needed.

You waited until he came home-his scent was heavier tonight, darker, filling every inch of your shared space before he even stepped through the door.

Bucky barely got through the threshold before his breath hitched, his entire frame locking up as his eyes landed on you. His scent spiked, sharp, conflicted. His fists clenched at his sides. His chest rose and fell with uneven, ragged breaths, his pupils blown wide with something almost like panic.

“Alpha…” Your voice was a plea, and that was all it took.

A shudder went through him, his body torn between fleeing and coming undone. He exhaled sharply, his jaw tight, and then finally, finally, he surged forward, grabbing you with a ferocity that sent a shudder down your spine. His hands were rough, desperate, roaming over your body like he needed to memorize every inch, gripping, kneading, staking his claim all over again. Metal cold and his other so hot it was scolding.

His breath came in sharp, ragged gasps, his body pressing flush against yours as though he could crawl inside your skin, as though he could keep you there, lock you away and never let go. His scent was thick, intoxicating, suffocating, wrapping around you until there was nothing left but him, until every thought melted away into pure, primal instinct.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply, his entire body trembling against yours. His fingers dug into your hips, bruising, grounding, his lips hovering over your bond mark as if he was afraid to touch it, afraid to claim what was already his.

“You don’t know what you’ve done,” he rasped, voice thick with something desperate, almost broken. “Tried to be gentle, doll… tried to stay away, tried to let you breathe. But you-fuck-” His hands gripped tighter, dragging you impossibly closer. “You’re beggin’ for it, ain’t ya doll?”

A helpless whimper left you, your omega clawing its way to the surface, aching for him, pleading for his touch. You weren’t sure if it was his words or the way his scent was sinking into you, twisting something deep in your gut, but you could barely think, barely breathe past the sheer, overwhelming need radiating between you.

"Please.." The word falling from you as his nose dragging along the length of your throat as he pressed you into the nearest surface, trapping you with his weight, his need. His muscles were strung tight beneath his skin, his restraint hanging on by a thread. The tremor in his hands as they roamed you, as they mapped the curves he already knew by heart, was the only sign he was still fighting it, still trying to hold himself back.

His scent swirled around you, and it wasn’t just need now-it was something deeper, something raw, something he had been trying to suppress. Something that had been building since his rut ended, since the moment he started pulling away, pretending he didn’t crave you, pretending he could survive without you.

His voice was rough when he spoke again, low and guttural, a confession wrapped in a snarl.

“Needy little thing. Always needing me. Always so fuckin’ sweet.” His hands skimmed over your sides, possessive, worshipping. “Mine. My 'mega.”

"Bucky-" You gasped his name, barely managing to get it past your lips before his mouth crashed against yours, devouring, consuming, desperate. Bucky groaned into you, his tongue sweeping past your lips, claiming, dominating, as if he could erase every second of distance, every moment he had spent keeping himself away.

His hands were relentless, pulling his shirt off your shoulders, his fingers dragging over your skin like he needed to feel every inch of you. Then, almost tearing the flimsy fabric of the lingerie away, his breath hitched, a low growl rumbling through his chest. The delicate material gave way easily under his strength, leaving you bare, vulnerable, exactly how he needed you. His body pressed you into the wall, his knee pushing between your legs, parting them effortlessly, demanding more, demanding everything. His touch was fevered, urgent, like he was afraid you might slip through his fingers, afraid he might wake up and find that this wasn’t real. "Want me, please, Alpha, please." 

His lips trailed lower, teeth scraping over your pulse, tongue following, tasting, savouring. A guttural sound rumbled from deep within his chest, his need only growing sharper. He pressed against you, his entire body covering yours, surrounding you, enveloping you in warmth and scent.

“You feel this, don’t you?” he muttered against your skin, his voice rough, strained. His hips rocked into yours, you could feel his hardness straining up against the fabric of his pants.  “How much I need you? How much I’ve always needed you?” His mouth descended again, hot and open-mouthed, sucking bruises onto your throat, staking his claim anew. 

A whimper spilled from your lips, your fingers twisting into his hair, trying to pull him closer, needing more. “Missed you,” you whispered, barely audible over the sound of your own pounding heart. “Missed feeling you-”

Bucky groaned, the words breaking something in him. His hands slid lower, grasping your thighs, lifting you effortlessly, forcing you to wrap around him.

“Mine,” he growled again, dragging his lips over your collarbone. “Every inch of you, mine.”

You gasped as his grip tightened, fingers pressing bruises into your skin, as if he needed to ground himself in you, to make sure you wouldn’t slip away. His breath was ragged, his body trembling as he held you there, between him and the wall, caging you in with his overwhelming presence. "Thought I'd hurt you," he murmured, lips brushing against your ear. "Saw you limping after, saw the marks. You didn’t complain, didn’t say a damn word, but I knew. And I-fuck, I thought I needed to give you space, let you recover."

His forehead pressed against yours, his hands still gripping you like he couldn’t bear to let go. "You're so perfect, ‘mega," he breathed, voice thick with something broken, something raw. "Gonna give me the family I want. Can’t have you-can’t damage you."

His confession settled over you like a storm, heavy and aching. The guilt had eaten at him, festered, made him retreat when all you had wanted was for him to stay close. To hold you, to remind you that you were his, and that he was still yours. That nothing had changed.

"Bucky-" Your voice wavered, your fingers threading into his hair, tugging, forcing him to meet your gaze. "You never could. I need you, always."

A shudder ripped through him, his resolve crumbling, and then he was kissing you again, desperate, consuming, as if trying to swallow down every ounce of distance he had put between you. And this time, he wasn’t holding back.

With a growl, his hands gripped the backs of your thighs, hoisting you up against him as if you weighed nothing. You barely had time to gasp before he was moving, his steps purposeful, heavy, marching you straight toward the bedroom. His grip was bruising, his breath coming out in sharp pants, his restraint shredded beyond repair. You could feel his heat radiating through his clothes, the solid, unrelenting press of his body making your breath hitch. The scent of him was overwhelming, thick with want, making your head spin as you clung to his shoulders.

The second he reached the edge of the bed, he tossed you onto it, your body bouncing slightly against the mattress before he was on you again. His weight pressed you into the sheets, his hands roving hungrily over you, fingers gripping your thighs, your waist, like he was trying to anchor himself. His pupils were blown wide, his expression wild, something feral and unrestrained lighting up in his gaze. His scent, already potent, grew even heavier, curling around you, filling your lungs until there was nothing left but him.

Bucky wasted no time, yanking at his clothes, pulling his shirt over his head and shoving his pants down with a frustrated grunt. Every movement was rough, impatient, like he couldn’t get to you fast enough. "Not letting you outta my sight again, ‘mega," he growled, voice low and dark with promise. "Not after this. Not ever."

His skin was flushed, chest rising and falling with deep, ragged breaths. He didn’t hesitate as he grabbed your ankles, spreading you out beneath him, his touch rough, desperate, like he needed to feel every inch of you, to reassure himself that you were still here, still his. His mouth descended upon you again, searing and demanding, lips tracing hot paths over your throat, your collarbone, down to the soft skin of your stomach.

Your body reacted instantly, a fresh wave of slick pooling between your thighs, your skin prickling with heat as his scent invaded every corner of your mind. You whimpered, arching into him, your hands fisting in the sheets, desperate for more, for all of him. “Smell so good..”  He groaned at the sound, at the way your body responded so instinctively to his touch. His fingers dug into your thighs as he spread them wider, his gaze locking onto yours, dark and possessive.

“You feel that?” he muttered against your skin, his voice rough, almost reverent. "The way your body begs for me? You’re dripping for me already, omega." His lips curled into a wicked grin as he inhaled deeply, letting your scent consume him. "Wanna take my time with you this time. Gonna remind you exactly who you belong to." The possessiveness in his tone was intoxicating, making your heart skip a beat as you felt his fingers digging deeper into your thighs.

His mouth trailed down your stomach, leaving a path of scorching kisses that made your skin prickle with heat. You whimpered as he reached the apex of your thighs, his breath dancing across your saoked folds. The sensation was almost too much to bear, and you arched into him, desperate for more.

Bucky's response was immediate; he groaned, his lips closing around your clit as he sucked hard. The sensation was blinding, sending sparks flying through your body. Your hands fisted in the sheets as you rode the wave of pleasure, his name tumbling from your lips like a prayer.

As he feasted on you, his fingers began to explore, delving into your wet channel with a rough gentleness that made you shudder. His touch was unapologetic, claiming every inch of you as his own. You felt yourself opening up to him, surrendering to the primal need that drove him.

The air was thick with tension as Bucky's body began to move against yours, his hips flexing in a slow rhythm that built anticipation. His eyes locked onto yours, burning with an inner fire that seemed to sear itself into your very soul. Sitting up, he wiped your slick off his face, his metal arm glinting under the low light, his gaze dark with intent.

His fingers curled possessively around your thighs, prying them open again, not willing to give you a moment’s reprieve. “Not done yet,” he murmured, dragging his tongue along your inner thigh, savoring the taste of you. “I’m gonna sure you’re ready for me, ‘mega. Gotta get you so soaked you take every inch of me like a good girl.”

You keened, writhing under him, overwhelmed by the slow burn of his dominance, the way he unravelled you piece by piece, pulling you deeper into that soft, yielding headspace only he could send you into. Your body trembled as he slid another thick finger inside you, stretching, coaxing, his thumb circling your swollen clit until you gasped, arching off the bed.

“I need to be inside you,” he growled, his voice barely above a whisper. “Need to feel you wrapped around me." His hands grasped your hips, pulling you closer as he positioned himself at your entrance. His cock pressed insistently against your slick heat, teasing, taunting, dragging along your folds until you whimpered, legs falling open wider in invitation.

"Gonna take you like an alpha should. Gonna fuck my seed so deep into you, you’ll never question who you belong to again. You’ll feel me leaking out of you for days, you want that, don’t you?”

Your omega keened in surrender, body already trembling, already aching for him. You were his. He was yours.

"Yes, Alpha. Need you. Need you to fill me up."

"Good girl," he purred, satisfaction dripping from his tone.

The first thrust was like a dam breaking; Bucky's body surged forward, filling you completely as he claimed every inch of space within you. You felt yourself stretching around him, accommodating the thickness of his cock as it pressed deep into your channel. A strangled moan escaped you as the sensation overwhelmed you, the sheer size of him making you gasp, your walls tightening instinctively around him.

Your Alpha snarled, his lips ghosting over your bond mark before biting down gently, a silent promise. "Need to fill you up again, ‘mega. Breed you proper. Make sure everyone knows exactly who you belong to."

The sensation was overwhelming; Bucky's heat and scent surrounded you as he began to move in earnest. Each thrust sent waves crashing through your body; each withdrawal left an ache that only intensified the need for more. His hands gripped your hips, fingers pressing deep, possessive, as he ground himself inside you, ensuring you felt every inch, every stroke, every claim he made.

You clawed at his back, nails raking down his shoulders, clinging as if you’d come undone without him. Your body trembled beneath him, pleasure cresting with every desperate snap of his hips, every growled praise against your skin. “That’s it, omega, take it,” he murmured, voice thick with satisfaction, with the sheer thrill of claiming you all over again. “Made for me. My perfect little thing. Gonna keep you full, gonna make sure my scent never leaves you.”

"Auh, fuck, Alpha," you gasped, your fingers raked up his back again, desperate to hold onto something, anything as the overwhelming sensation of being stretched and filled stole the breath from your lungs. Your cries only urged him on, rough and unrelenting, his pace deepening as he pressed your knees back, opening you further, making space for him to take you the way you’d been aching for. He was relentless, primal, your Alpha in every sense of the word, his instincts sharpening with every thrust. His grip on you was possessive, fingertips digging into your thighs as his hips snapped forward, deeper, harder, claiming you over and over until there was nothing left but him.

“Bucky-urgh, Alpha, it’s so much,” you whimpered, your legs wrapping tighter around his waist, locking him even deeper inside you. Your body trembled, slick pooling around where you were joined, overwhelmed by the way he stretched and filled you. “Y-you’re so deep, Bucky… feels so good, please.”

Your pleasure built, winding tighter and tighter, and Bucky felt it. He knew your body better than you did.

“Come for me, omega,” he rasped, his voice laced with command. “Milk your Alpha like you’re meant to.”

Your body obeyed before your mind caught up, the orgasm slamming into you with devastating force. Your vision blurred as the pleasure coursed through you, your walls clamping down around him in desperate pulses, gripping his cock in a vice that had his own control slipping. A strangled moan tore from his throat, his hips stuttering as he drove deep one last time, his knot swelling, locking him inside you with a shuddering growl.

"Nnnngh-Bucky!" Your voice was nothing more than a broken whimper, your body reacting instantly to his words, your walls clenching around him in tight, desperate spasms.

The sensation was overwhelming, the sudden stretch forcing a keening cry from your lips as your body adjusted around him, holding him deep, keeping him right where you needed him most. The fullness was near unbearable, his knot swelling and locking him inside you, sending pleasure rippling through your body in pulsing waves. Your omega keened, instinct taking over, urging you to surrender, to take all of him, to be bred, to be filled. You could feel his heartbeat pounding inside you, the rhythmic throb of his knot as it swelled to ensure he stayed exactly where he belonged.

Bucky let out a deep, guttural groan, his body trembling against yours, muscles twitching as he fought to catch his breath. His arms wrapped around you, caging you in, holding you so tight it was like he was afraid you'd slip away. He buried his face against your neck, his lips brushing over your scent gland, pressing deep, open-mouthed kisses there as if to further seal his claim.

“That’s it, ‘mega,” he murmured against your skin, his voice raw, reverent. “Takin’ me so good. Just like that, just like you were made for it. Made for me.” His tongue flicked out to taste the salt on your skin, to feel the way your pulse thrummed wildly beneath his lips. “Fuck, feel how tight you’re squeezin’ me? Milk me, baby. Milk your Alpha just like that.”

The size of his knot stretching you further sent sparks of pleasure straight through your core, making your thighs quake.

His breath hitched, and then a ragged moan ripped from his throat as he bucked once more, his hips pressing deep, his knot bumping up against that spongy spot as he spent himself inside you, filling you over and over again. You could feel it, thick and hot, spilling so deep, marking you in the most primal way, ensuring there would be no question-you were his, you always would be.

His hands smoothed up your body, palms gliding over your waist before resting possessively over your belly. “That’s it, ‘mega. Gonna keep you so full. Gonna make sure it takes.” His voice was thick with satisfaction, and something deeper-something wild and unyielding. “Gonna breed you right, keep you round with my pups.”

A needy whimper spilled from your lips at his words, the thought alone sending another wave of shared slick spilling between your thighs, your omega completely lost in the pleasure of being claimed so fully.

Bucky shifted, pressing himself even closer, his scent warm and heavy, his body heat lulling you into a state of perfect bliss. His knot would keep him inside you for a while, tying you together just as nature intended. There was no space between you, no room for doubt-only Bucky, only his love, only the quiet certainty that he would never let you go.

And you knew, without a doubt, that he’d never let you forget it.

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Jesse X Virgin!Reader: Curiosity killed the cat.

a/n: this is so random but i needed to write about him, so yeah

Warnings: this is pure filth, porn with no plot, handjob, fingering, talks about sex, smut, kissing, making out, cursing, male anatomy, female anatomy, virgin reader, innocence kink (i think?), virginity kink (is that a thing?), weed, being high, vulgar language, no use of y/n, not proofread

Word count: 2,2K

You knew about sex. Well, in a broad sense anyway. You knew how it worked and the consequences that came with it but you'd never actually done anything other than touching yourself. Maybe it was the weed. Maybe it was the crush you'd been harboring for Jessie for the past year. It didn’t matter what caused it, the fact is that the words had left your mouth and now you couldn’t take it back.

“Can I see your dick?”

You expected Jesse to jump from the couch and look at you like some sort of pervert. But he surprised you.

“It's not hard.”

Maybe his brain was foggy with weed too.

“So what?”

“So it's not nice to-um-look at, I guess.”

He gave you a small shrug, looking at nothing in particular but actively avoiding your gaze. 

“Dina’s never seen it soft?”

Jesse recoiled a bit at the mention of Dina and you immediately regretted bringing her up.

“Sorry. I’m just curious, I've never…”

You forced yourself to stop talking, opting to pick at your shoes instead.

“You’re a virgin?”

He didn’t ask like he was judging, he asked like he was genuinely surprised. Your heart sped up a bit. Had he revealed something to you just now? Or was it just in your head?

“Yeah.”

Jesse stayed quiet for a moment, thinking about something as he stared off into space. He was struggling to decide what was or not appropriate to say. You’d started this conversation but he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable by accident. He didn’t know how innocent you were. 

“Normally people only see it when it's already hard.”

You bit into your cheek, nodding in understanding. No one had ever told you that but it did make sense with the little knowledge you had. Jesse watched you think for a second. His eyes scanned your body. You seemed calm but that could be because of the weed. You turned to look at him, your eyes catching the way his eyes raked over your body. Ok so you definitely weren't imagining things. There was something there. But just how far would Jesse let you go? You intended to find out. 

“If i made it hard would you show me?”

You where already starting to make him hard with all your fucking questions. His brain took every word that slipped from your mouth and turned it into a dirty little fantasy. Harmless but very effective. He hesitated for a bit but then the horniness got to him and he simply nodded at you.

“Yeah ok.”

You lifted off your spot on the floor, moving towards him. He shifted on the couch, moving so that he was sitting instead of laying down. You stopped when you got in front of him, hands unconsciously tugging at your jacket. Jesse waited, his eyes moving over your body until they reached your face. You looked at him with wide eyes. It was then that he realised you were waiting for him to tell you what to do. 

“Have you ever made out with someone?”

“Like kissing them? Yeah I've kissed people Jesse, I'm not that inexperienced.”

Jesse sighed. He hadn’t meant for it to sound like he didn’t think you could manage to have someone want to kiss you, but by the way you’d crossed your arms in front of your chest he could tell he’d touched a nerve. He rose from his spot, closing the distance between the two of you. You took a step back at the action, not because you didn’t want him close but because you didn’t know what to expect from him. Jesse noticed the uncertainty in your eyes.

“Hey it’s ok. It’s just me.”

You nodded, allowing him to move closer. His hand found your cheek, his thumb running over the skin as he spoke.

“There's a difference between kissing and making out. That’s why I asked.”

Before you could answer he leaned down. His lips found yours, placing a small kiss to them before backing away. 

“That’s a kiss.”

His hand moved to rest on your waist, pulling you flush against his body. His lips crashed into yours, hands trying to tug you impossibly closer. Your heart was beating so fast it was the only thing you could focus on. This was so different from the gentle kiss he’d just given you. This was hungry. Carnal. 

Your body reached for him in desperation, arms moving to wrap around his neck as he deepened the kiss. His hands squeezed your hips before shifting to your ass. You gasped at the movement and Jesse took it as his opportunity to shove his tongue in your mouth.  When he finally pulled away you were gasping for air. Your chest heaved with every breath, lips swollen as you stared up at him like he’d just shown you the secrets of the universe. He couldn’t help but smile at your expression.

“So, I take it you’ve never made out with anyone.”

“No I've never done…that.”

A laugh slipped from your mouth before you could help it. Jesse joined in, his hands never leaving your body. When you both got your laughing fit in controle you leaned into him, placing a kiss to his lips.  Your mouth chased him as he moved away, a small whine leaving you. Jesse’s dick twitched at the sound. It didn;t help that you were practically pouting at him. 

“It’s easier if you're sitting down.”

“Okay.”

You watched him move back to the couch. He took a seat, manspreading as he stared up at you. You took a step forward, hesitating for a moment before placing one knee on the couch. Jesse nodded his head at you, approving your movements, so you continued. You settled on his lap, hands resting on his shoulders. Jesse's hands rested on your hips as he waited to see what you would do. Your eyes moved from his lips to his neck, tongue moving out to wet your lips.

“Can I try something?”

“Of course.”

“And you’ll tell me if it's bad?”

“If you want me to.”

“I do.”

“Then yeah, I will.”

Satisfied you leaned down. Your lips found his neck with caution, placing small pecks to the skin. Jesse shifted beneath you, head moving to the side to give you more access. You took that as a sign to keep going. Your kisses became more confident and Jesse responded to every single one. When you finally found his sweet spot he let out a groan, hips bucking up into you. The action caused you to stop licking at his neck. Jesse's eyes snapped open when he felt you pull away from him.

“What is it?”

“You’re hard.”

He had completely forgotten about how all this had started. But you were right, he was hard.

“Does that mean I did it right?”

Jesse smiled at you before he could help it. He tugged you into a kiss and you accepted it. You ground down into him, searching for relief without even knowing why you were doing it. Jesse pulled away, his forehead resting on yours.

“So…can I see now?”

He had promised and Jesse was a man of his word. 

“Yeah. Do you want me to take it out or do you wanna do it yourself?”

“You can do it.”

“Okay. Move back a bit.”

You did as he asked, shifting slightly on his lap so that he could reach his pants with more ease. Your eyes followed every movement. He moved slowly, drawing the moment out longer than necessary. You could tell he was doing it on purpose. Just as you were going to scold him his dick sprang free. Your lips parted in confusion, head tilting to the side as you took in the sight before you. It wasn’t pretty. It looked kind of weird actually. But you felt a desire to sit on it. How strange. 

Jesse watched you take it in. He could see the wheels turning in your mind. He hadn't expected you to scream out in joy or anything but the silent observation was killing him.

“Can I touch it?”

“Sure.”

Your hand moved to grab his dick. Jesse hissed at your skin met his, causing you to look up at him.

“Did that hurt?”

“Not exactly, it's just sensitive”

You gave him a tentative stroke. Jesse's head fell back onto the couch with a small pant so you repeated the action. 

“Is it true that people put it in their mouth?”

“Yeah its-shit- that's a blowjob.”

“Is it good?”

“Very.”

“Better than this?”

Your hand hasn't stopped moving as you spoke and Jesse was finding it harder and harder to keep his voice leveled.

“Much.”

“Do you want me to? Put it in my mouth I mean.”

Oh, he so very much wanted that. But not right now. Right now he wanted to show you he could make you feel good too. So despite his brain yelling at him to say yes he moved to grab onto your hand. You gazed up at him as his hand warped around yours, stilling your movements.

“Maybe another time. Can I show you something instead?”

“Okay.”

Jesse's hand moved to your pants, looking up at you in a silent question. You understood his request. Once you’d nodded your okay, Jesse unbuttoned your pants and pulled your zipper down. You were already panting from the anticipation. When his fingers found your folds a moan ripped itself from your throat. You’ve touched yourself before but it felt so different when it was someone else doing it. Jesse's fingers were thicker than yours so the feeling of fullness was more predominant. 

“Jesse it's…oh wow.”

“Fuck you’re wet.”

He added another digit and you gasped.

“Just wait till you feel my dick.”

You clenched at his words and Jesse couldn’t help but smile.

“You want that huh? Want me to fuck you?”

You were nodding with all your might, fingers gripping onto his shoulder as he continued to finger you. 

“Can I sit on it?”

“Next time. It’s better to be laying down for the first time.”

“Okay.”

“I need you to cum first though ok?”

You nodded, allowing your head to rest on his shoulder. Your hips rocked against his fingers, searching for your release. When  his thumb found your clit you were gone. You fisted at his shirt, mouth opening to release a moan of his name as you gushed onto his fingers. Your body sagged into his completely as you reached your high. Jesse placed a kiss on your shoulder as he removed his fingers from inside you. 

“You want a taste?”

As curious as you were, your body was too tired to focus on anything other than the sudden euphoria that has washed through it. So you shook your head. Jesse moved his fingers away from your face, shoving them into his mouth before licking them clean. You watched the action, clenching around nothing. You looked down at Jesse's crouch, finding him still rock hard, possibly even more than he ahd been when you’d been touching him. Jesse caught onto your stare, hands moving to wrap around your chin. He lifted your head so that you were looking into his eyes.

“Do you really want it to be me, or were you just saying it because my fingers felt good?”

“Not just because of that. I like you Jesse and I trust you. I want it to be you. If that's alright with you I mean.”

“It's more than alright with me.”

He gave you a loving kiss, shifting around so that he could tug you out of his lap and lay you down on the couch. You spread your legs for him, allowing him to slot between them. 

“It’ll hurt a bit at the start but it gets better. And if you want me to slow down or stop you tell me ok?”

“I will.”

“Good. You ready?”

“Hu huh.”

Jesse was right at first it stung, even with how slowly he was entering you the discomfort was present. Your brows furrowed and Jesse noticed. He moved to caress your thighs trying to pull your attention away from the pain. It worked well. Before you knew it the pain had turned into pleasure. 

Jesse started rocking into you slowly. With every move you gasped, hands clawing onto his back. That only spurred him on. His movements became more erratic, his whines louder. He was trying to be a gentleman but you kept clenching around him like a vice. His head fell onto your shoulder, hips moving faster and faster with each of your moans. You could feel the pressure in your stomach. The more he moved the closer it got to snapping. And then with one well placed thrust Jesse had you biting into his shoulder as you came. It took everything in Jesse to not cum inside as your body threatened to swallow him whole but he managed. Afterwards the two of you lay in eachothers arms snuggling to keep the cold at bay. 

“Do you think we’ll be here long?”

Jesse glanced out the window. The storm was still raging outside.

“At least a couple hours.”

“Does that mean we can go again?”

Jesse let out a laugh. He’d created a monster. 

“Yeah we can go again.”

“Can I sit on it this time?”

“Sure. Just give me a couple minutes.”

“Alright.”

You settled on the couch nuzzling into Jesse, your body buzzing with the promise of what was to come.

[brokenmenswhore]

potions | regulus black

pairing: regulus black x fem!reader

summary: regulus invites his potions partner over to his family home to “help her practice”

warnings: DUBCON (MDNI 18+), choking, smut, rough sex

────── ☾ ──────

When Regulus invited you into his home to use his in-house potions lab, you were suspicious. Regulus always had a darkness to him, and as your potions partner, he was never cruel to you, but he wasn’t the type to make such a kind gesture.

You accepted, knowing you could really use the extra practice. Regulus was talented at potions, and you felt bad that you were barely any help in class. As strange as it may be, you figured some extra time would benefit you, and Regulus could teach you and thing or two, if he felt kind enough to do so.

“Come on in,” he said, gesturing you through the door.

You smiled as you followed him through the house, the lighting almost as dark as his all-black outfit.

“I keep my potions stuff in here,” he said, pushing open the door to his bedroom.

“In your bedroom?”

“Mhm,” he responded, completely nonchalant about the fact you were in his personal space, while you felt it was a little strange. You didn’t know him too well, though you were attracted to him, and now you were only a few feet away from his bed.

He walked over to the table. “You coming?”

You swallowed and approached him, looking at the large collection of jars and ingredients spread out on the table.

“Should we maybe let your parents know I’m here? That there’s someone else in the house?”

Regulus chuckled. “The only other person here is my brother.”

“Sirius is here?”

Regulus shot you a look. You and Sirius had a weird past- you hooked up a few times at parties, you caught feelings and he didn’t, and you never spoke again. It was all ancient history, but you still tried to avoid being around him at all costs.

“Why does it matter?” Regulus asked.

“It doesn’t,” you spoke in a small voice, drifting your attention to the table, “so? What first?”

“Figured we could maybe just make sure you’re set on ingredients,” Regulus said. Everything he said was so dry, low, and monotone, and it sometimes made conversation hard.

“I think I’m comfortable with the ingredients side of things,” you told him.

“You’re not.”

You furrowed your brow and looked at him. “Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes I am!” you fought, “I know my own skill levels, Regulus.”

“I don’t think you do.”

He was so nonchalant about everything, reorganizing ingredients and setting up potion recipes as he spoke, as if anything he said didn’t matter.

You sighed and gave up fighting it, letting him take control and decide where to go from here. There was no point in going back and forth on the same thing over and over again.

“How about we just start with Shrinking Solution?” Regulus asked.

“Fine by me,” you answered.

Regulus backed away from the table, watching you do nothing. You looked back at him. Did he expect you to just do it?

“Well?” he said, “make the potion.”

You sighed. Sometimes he was so annoying and condescending. You looked at the unlabeled recipe and removed 7 red rose petals from a case of singular petals.

You began to drop them one-by-one in the boiling water. You looked at Regulus, who nodded at you to keep going. “How difficult,” you said sarcastically.

Remus folded his arms in front of his chest, watching you carefully.

You added five drops of essence of violet, stirring counterclockwise exactly twelve times.

“I don’t remember shrinking solution having essence of violet,” you told Regulus.

“Are you claiming my recipes are wrong?”

“No, I’m just saying.” You sighed and continued with the recipe, counting out 4 cloves and prepping canary flight feathers.

He didn’t say a word, just watching you make the potion, until you had completed the instructions.

“I also don’t remember it being pink,” you pouted, looking confused at the pot.

“I could have sworn this potion had daisy roots somewhere-“

“Would you relax?” Regulus questioned.

“Something just feels off about it,” you said, inspecting the liquid.

“Does it smell right?” he asked.

You leaned in and sniffed. The potion smelt like lavender, vanilla, freshly cut grass, and all your favorite smells.

The smell maintained throughout the smoke that you breathed in, overtaking your senses and filling your lungs. “Fuck that smells good,” you giggled.

Regulus crept behind you as silently as he could. When you stood up, he was directly behind you, your back almost banging into his torso.

You spun around to meet his gaze. “Can I help you with something?” you asked.

“I don’t know, can you?”

Your eyes locked for a moment, and you were suddenly overtaken with adoration.

“I think I probably can,” you said, all logic going out the window as the potion took over your emotions, your focus completely on Regulus.

“Atta girl,” he tsked, gripping your waist as he looked down at you. “How you feelin’, pretty girl?”

You were overcome with intense emotion, but you fought to remain grounded in reality. “You motherfucker,” you said, letting Regulus know that you were aware he had you make the wrong potion. This was not Shrinking Solution, this was Amortentia.

“No idea what you’re referring to,” he said.

“You know,” you started, twirling his already wavy hair in your fingers, “you could have just asked if you wanted me.”

“Now could I?” he asked, intrigued and eager to hear you continue talking.

“Mhm.”

“I thought I wasn’t your type.”

“Why?”

“You slept with my brother, did you not?”

Your eyes widened a bit. “And you know that how?”

“He’s my brother,” he said, holding you closer to him, his tone finally lifting to a bit lighter of a place, “and I’ve been keeping tabs on you.”

You giggled. “Have not.”

“I have been,” he admitted, “had to make sure you weren’t fucking anyone who didn’t deserve you.”

“I haven’t been fucking anyone,” you told him honestly.

“I know.”

“You wanna know why?”

His gaze darkened.

You sighed, “the only person I’ve wanted to fuck is standing right in front of me.”

Regulus growled, gripping your waist even harder and pulling you even closer. “Then what did I do all this work for? Getting you over here, the Amortentia, you’re telling me I worked for it for nothing?”

“Maybe,” you giggled, amused at how much thought and planning went into getting you here. You weren’t obvious about your attraction to him, but it couldn’t be that hard to notice.

“I feel drunk on you,” you admitted.

Regulus smiled. You had never ever seen him smile before. You didn’t even know he was capable.

“You’re so pretty when you smile,” you said genuinely, a hand moving upward so you could run a thumb over his cheek.

He couldn’t help himself anymore, he crashed his lips onto yours. Your hand found it’s way to the back of his head, holding him closer. You whimpered into the kiss, desperation overtaking your body. You couldn’t help it, the scent of the potion was still filling the room, and you were consumed in Regulus.

“I want you,” you said in between kisses, eager to finally get what you wanted.

Regulus didn’t break the kiss or loosen his grip on your waist, but instead inched you closer and closer to the bed. You felt the back of your knees hit the mattress, and you jumped up, attempting to land on the mattress, but Regulus caught you, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist.

He leaned over you, your back touching the mattress as you kept your legs around Regulus. He remained standing, the small of your back at the edge of the side of the bed.

Regulus finally broke the kiss, running his hands all over your body and inspecting every single inch of you. “I’m gonna make you scream so loud that Sirius will realize what he’s missing.”

You couldn’t help it, you started laughing. Your heightened emotions won, and the more you tried to stay quiet, the more hysterical your laugh became.

Regulus slapped your thigh. “What the fuck is so funny?”

“You.”

“Shut up,” Regulus demanded, kissing you to distract you from the hysterics in your brain. You melted back into him, forgetting why you were even laughing in the first place.

You were still having too much fun to let him win so easy, and you liked watching him work for it. “Make me.”

Regulus cocked his head to the side. “What did you just say?”

A giggle threatened to leave your lips. “I said make me.”

A hand suddenly squeezed around your throat, not completely cutting off your breath, but stopping your giggling.

Regulus flashed you a wicked smile. “That seemed to work, didn’t it?”

“Y-yes,” you squeaked out.

Regulus moved a hand in between your bodies, cupping your heat from on top of your underwear. You inhaled sharply, desperate for any sort of friction.

Regulus tucked his fingers into the band of your underwear, collecting your wetness with his middle finger as he traced it in between your folds. A sigh of pleasure escapes your lips, and Regulus watched your face intently.

You thought he was going to continue on like this, slowly working you up until you were ready for him, but Regulus had other ideas. Without warning, he shoved two long fingers inside of you, his palm resting on your clit and circling, as his fingers pumped in and out of you.

Your body responded, back arching off the bed, a hand still around your throat. You squirmed a bit, unable to stay still from the sensation.

Regulus watched your chest rise and fall as your back arched and fell, his cock hardening as he watched what he did to you.

He curled his fingers, hitting that gummy sweet spot within you, causing your walls to convulse around his fingers. “That’s it, pretty girl,” he cooed, “come for me.”

His words undid you, the coil of tension within you breaking as you came on his fingers, whines and whimpers constantly filling the room as you calmed down from your high. He pulled his fingers out of you, never breaking eye contact as he sucked your juices off of them.

Once his fingers were licked clean, he unwrapped your legs from his waist, removing his hand from your throat.

“Stay,” he commanded as he untied his pants, pushing them, along with his underwear, down enough to free his hard and swollen cock.

You let out an audible gasp at the size.

“What? Too much for you?”

“How-“ you didn’t even know what to say, “how is that gonna fit in me?”

“I think you’ll be fine, pretty girl.”

Regulus held his palm in front of your mouth. “Spit.”

You did as he said, and he used your spit to wet his cock, lining up his tip with your entrance.

“You want this?” he asked.

“Yes, Reg,” you replied.

Regulus almost showed you mercy when he heard the nickname, it just sounded so pretty coming from you, but he still didn’t. “Beg for it.”

You nodded your head no in protest.

A hand grabbed your face, pushing your lips out and positioning your head so that you had no choice but to look him in the eye. “Beg. For. It.”

“P-please, Regulus I n-“

Regulus slapped your cheek, hard. You gasped at the pain, almost stunned that he did such a thing.

“Use that pretty little nickname you called me.”

“Please, Reg, I need it, p-please-“

Regulus shoved his length into you, a moan of his name leaving your lips.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Regulus growled, setting a steady pace as he pumped in and out of you. He tugged at the bottom of your dress. “Off.”

You did your best to pull your dress off without interrupting his pace, struggling for a minute but eventually succeeding. Regulus leaned in and bit at your bra strap, snapping it back onto your body. He kisses the top of your breasts, shoving your nipples out of the cups, his tongue immediately sucking on one of them.

“Fuck!” you cried out, the pleasure of his mouth on your breasts and his cock splitting you open, and the scent of the potion still filled your nose, almost feeling like too much.

“Louder,” he demanded, serious when he said he would make you scream so loud that Sirius could hear you.

“Fuck, Reg!” you screamed at the top of your lungs, his pace quickening as you did so.

“Good girl,” he praised.

He sucked a sweet spot on your neck, your head rolling to the side to give him even more access.

He was slamming into you, the bed squeaking as your body rocked back and forth. Your legs were weak as they fell off the side of the bed, but Regulus didn’t want the position to change. He grabbed both of your legs, positioning them over his shoulders and fucking into you even deeper.

You squeaked and whined, not even capable of any genuine moans anymore.

“You gonna come again, huh? All over my cock?” Regulus gasped out.

“Mhm.”

“Words, pretty girl.”

“Y- yes!” you squealed, your high hitting you again as you squeezed his cock, a groan leaving Regulus’s mouth as he fucked you while you came, pace never faltering as you attempted to come down from your high.

Regulus was still chasing his own, his lips enveloping yours in a heated kiss as he snapped his hips as fast as he could until he came inside of you, erratic breaths and sighs spilling into the kiss.

“Fuck,” he said, running his fingers through his hair that was sweat slicked and falling in front of his face.

“God, I needed that,” you said, attempting to catch your breath as Regulus laid down next to you.

Regulus didn’t respond, he just stared at the ceiling, calming himself down.

“Reg?” you asked.

“Mhm?”

“You didn’t bring me here just to fuck me and piss your brother off, right?” you asked.

Regulus turned to you. “Do you think that low of me?”

“No. I’m just curious,” you explained.

“No, I didn’t bring you here to piss my brother off,” he answered, “it’s just a massive, massive plus.” He rolled over the placed a kiss on your lips.

[0scarp1astr1]

Wax Appointment (PT2)

જ⁀➴ Desc: || In which you tell them about your brazilian wax appointment, they just have one problem, your waxer is a man. ||

ᯓ★ Featuring: Oscar Piastri, Yuki Tsunoda, Franco Colapinto, Kimi Antonelli, Ollie Bearman, George Russell.

ᯓ★ 2x Genre: Fluffy (slight humor)

ᯓ★ Warning: Suggestive humor/themes

ᯓ★ Requested? No

Author Note: Thank you guys for the support and love on the first one. There is so much in the drafts between the four fics I’m wanting to present before jumping to request. Hopefully you guys like this one as much as the first. It’s midnight for me where I’m uploading at this current time.

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Oscar Piastri

Your boyfriend was never a man of many emotions, expressions, and often words. Especially in a public setting so you didn’t think too much of him knowing you would be going to your Brazilian wax. In fact you went and he didn’t blink an eye, just gave a simple, “I love you, let me know you made it safely,” before you fled from home to your appointment.

The waxer was sweet and you found out a lot about him, from his engagement with his boyfriend, to facts about his dog. He was like a best friend at this point, and when it came time to leave, you left a tip so you could get back home to cuddle up to your emotionless boyfriend.

When you got home, you could only remove the shoes, seeing Oscar on the same couch, his head laid back and focusing on tv. “Comfy?” You asked with a teasing smile as he hums softly. “Yeah, how did the wax go?” He asked, not minding as you shrugged. “My waxer was nice and assuring. I gave him a tip for being gentle” you explained. That’s when your boyfriend raised up, his expression plastered clearly, a mixture of judgement and jealousy. “Are you serious? It was a man? And you didn’t bother telling me?” He questioned as if you had committed a crime. “I figured you wouldn’t care?” You questioned back.

Oscar had jumped from the couch while shaking his head and approaching you, his arms wrapping around you. “Are you kidding me? Anything that has to do with you, I absolutely care about.” He tilted his head. “Now you can make it up to me by allowing me to claim what he seen.” He said, you slapped his chest as he let out a low chuckle. “You’re being dramatic,” you said as he shook his head.

“Of course I am. He got to see my woman,” he pointed out. “Ah yes. He’s got a lover.” You raised a brow as Oscar let out a scoff. “Doesn’t matter. He could’ve been eyeing you like candy!” Oscar shook his head, he turned away dramatically as you chuckled. “He’s into men. I’m afraid you’ll be more his type.” You stated. Oscar stopped in his tracks, turning slowly.

“Into men?…” he mumbled while you hummed in confirmation. “I see…” he shrugged. You stared at him, as if he lost all emotion and expression he had. But, you let out a yelp in surprise when you were tossed over his shoulder, heading for the bedroom.

“Still taking what’s mine. I don’t like sharing what’s for my eyes only.”

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Yuki Tsunoda

As sweet and innocent as your lover looked to the eyes of strangers you knew deep down his mouth and often actions didn’t match his appearance. If only they knew what you did but admittedly he was brutally honest when you needed it, and his honesty is what you loved about him. Even when it came to you.

You sat in the passenger seat while sighing skipping songs on your playlist till you found the right one for your own ears sake. But, your phone ringed and you instantly answered, Yuki kept his eyes on the road not minding the phone call on the radio. Yet his ears perked up into the phone call had fully heard the “he’s not gonna charge too much,”.

Once the phone call ended, Yuki decided to break the silence. “A man is waxing you?” He asked. You glanced over. “Yeah? My wax appointment is soon so we can start making our way there.” You leaned back into the seat. Yuki only side eyed you slightly before nodding his head. “Or we can go to the store to buy what you need and I can wax you at home,” he suggested causing you grin lightly. “Are you jealous?” You asked him.

Yuki hums. “You call it jealousy, I call it a smart idea. I mean what man knows his way around you? I do. So I should get the chance to wax you.” He reasoned. “It’s a wax. You’re being dramatic,”. He could only roll his eyes at your comment. “And getting a wax is dramatic considering I had no complaints towards what’s going on down there at least a week ago. I finished just fine. And you did too.”

You could only huff, hating that he held a good point you couldn’t actually argue against since he didn’t ever complain about your body but always complimented you instead. The thought alone brought a smile to Yuki’s face, he parked the car as you looked around. “You can’t be serious?” You raised a brow as he shook his head. “We’re going to get the supplies so I can wax you at home”

Most of the time in the store you picked out what he would need, you could see from the corner or your eye the excitement in his face. Admittedly you liked that Yuki stood on what he believed was right to do, and waxing you was one. So, when you got home, you had yelped lightly when you were pushed back on the bed before breaking out in a smile. “What are you doing?” You asked.

“Giving you special treatment, you are my woman. Plus no guy is giving you what I’ll be giving you.”

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Franco Colapinto

Franco had been in the shower while you stood at the mirror, the two of you were dating so bathroom stops like this weren’t uncommon between you. In fact, you had smooth sailing conversations together like this as odd as it seems to others.

“When I get back, we’re still going to our dinner reservations right?” You asked, hearing your boyfriend’s voice behind the glass shower door. “I’d be a fool not to take you, mi vida,” he said earning a soft hum from you. “I’ll make sure my waxer is quick this time. He shouldn’t be too long”

When that slipped from your lips, the water didn’t seem to matter as the shower door opened with quickness, the steam causing you to glance at him. “Eh?! A man?! Mi vida, I’m all for you doing whatever you desire. But let’s be honest…” he trailed off. You rolled your eyes. “Franco. You know I get waxing done, this is a one time thing, my original waxer is out town” you stated.

“Oh no, no,” he turned off the water, reaching for his town instantly, he wrapped it around his waist. “Let’s be honest here. I can live with some hair and you can too,” he shakes his head. You could only lean against the counter in the bathroom, staring at him. “And you got out the shower to say this?…because?…”.

Both of you stood face to face before he finally broke the silence that fell for a moment. “Some guys take advantage of their job! All I’m saying is he might not be friendly as he sounds,”. Deep down you knew he had a point but even more he was looking pretty attractive. “Are you even paying attention to me? ¡Oh Dios mío!” He rolled his eyes.

“Let’s make a deal, I don’t go to this wax appointment, get a different waxer next week…under the condition we end up in the shower.” You grinned, his eyes widen, face going red but he gathered himself together, immediately agreeing.

“Deal. I’ll play fair. Just this once.”

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Kimi Antonelli

Sweet boyfriend and he’s always been understanding so when you explained the Brazilian wax he was flustered but agreed that you could do whatever you wanted, he’d support it. While you got the wax, he was spending time with Toto, having small conversation as per usual. It was just all normal to him because he called you beautiful regardless.

Later in the day when you returned, Kimi suggested taking you for lunch when he finished up with Mercedes, and you agreed so the conversation was full of flirting and catching up on the hours spent apart. “How bad did it hurt? Do you need something?” He asked while sipping his drink. You’d shook your head, giving a reassuring smile. “Eh. He was gentle.” You spoke. His eyes widen, immediately coughing as your eyes widen in alert. He shakes his head, waving his hand around and placing the cup down. “I choked. What do you mean, he, Amore Mio?”.

“I mean my waxer was a man?” When you said that, Kimi could only hum. “So he’s seen…” he gestured down low. Your silence was enough for his answer. “I see…” was all he said before returning silent. Something he did when he was thinking or upset, which caused you to give him space, assuming he needed it.

But even when a little time went by, he surprisingly only poked at his pasta as if he lost for desire to eat something he often enjoyed ordering when you went out on lunch and dinner dates. “Kimi.” You said as he looked at you, his pout, his brows, he was jealous, you knew it but you also knew he was good at holding his emotions together. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” He assured.

You’d lean over the table, kissing him softly. “Mi perdoni” you spoke softly as he looked at you, he was such a fool for you when you spoke Italian. It always made his heart beat fast and his eyes sparkle. “I’m not upset at you. Just don’t like the idea of other people seeing you like that, Tesoro Mio,” he spoke softly causing you to smile at him.

“What can I do to make it up to you?” You asked with genuine intentions to fix it. Yet, something in Kimi shifted, even a small slip up of his own words. “You can show me what you look down there now…” he mumbled causing you to blush. “Too much?” He asked while you shook your head not sure when he became bold like this.

“Perfect, I’ll get the check and we’ll be leaving soon.”

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Ollie Bearman

Take him with you, he refuses to stay alone while you’re out getting a wax. He knows what it is, personally clings to you because he desires nothing more than for you to cancel. Which is how you ended up looking at him as if he lost his mind while he weighed you down.

“Ollie it’s a wax! I’ll be done before you know it!” You said as he laid on top of you on the couch, his weight holding you down. “It’s not about time, you and I know that!” He said. “It’s about the man! That agreed! Why would he agree?! He should say No!”. Against his words you could only chuckle. “It’s quick and easy and he sees multiple clients a day, he’ll forget about me,” you argued back only causing him to groan. “It’s you. Who forgets about you?! I don’t?!”

You chuckle again, patting his back. “I’m flattered love, really I am. But. You’re dating me so it’s different for you not to forget me,” he could only agree with the statement. “True but still! I became obsessed with you so it’s easy for another man,” he argued back which made you rather happy to know your boyfriend remained very much in love with you. “We can go together?” You suggested.

Ollie shook his head. “I’m sorry, baby, but if I see him touching you that close, I’m afraid I’d lose my mind.” He said. You knew deep down Ollie just wanted you safe, something he always did was keep you protected from people he didn’t know, to even media teams of the paddock. Ollie did all he could to make sure you were safe and comfortable. “I just don’t want you going and him getting any ideas. You’re so beautiful you know I worry about other people desiring you in the way I do,”

His words almost made you wanna refuse wax and just stay home under his weight forever. “Ollie Bearman. You are so sweet…” you spoke softly which made him hum. “Sweet enough to sweet talk you to stay home?” He had hopeful eyes. God, it was hard enough saying no, especially in this moment.

“Fine. I’ll stay this time but next week I need my wax,” you said as he hums, closing his eyes to rest on you now content with the answer. “Can I ask you something?” He questioned, making you nod your head. “Anything,” you assured.

“After the wax, can we still do it?”

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George Russell

Gentleman to you but not so much to your waxer, you knew your boyfriend was sassy so you were more scared to see the waxer than he was.”lighten up darling, I’m not gonna do anything.” He assured, but you knew deep down a bit of his attitude was unimaginable and unpredictable. Yet he remained supportive so he insisted on tagging along.

When the man walked in, George caught on that he was the waxer only making him lean against the wall and watch the man’s every move. “So how often do you see other women?” George suddenly asked, causing the older man to nod. “I say a few but I forget them every hour. Too many clients,” the man stated with a focused tone. “I don’t think that’s important information,” you stated softly, allowing him to prep a lot of the supplies.

George only shrugged. “Was curious, he seemed desperate to accept the waxing for you.” George’s tone shifted to a more serious perspective. “It’s his job.” You said, the tension growing which caused your waxer to excuse himself and silently step out.

“Seriously George? In front of the waxer?” You groaned, he only shrugged. “I prefer me to be the only man between your legs, personally I prefer to be the only man that touches it.” He stated boldly, only making you rub your face in complete disbelief. “You can’t seriously be upset?”

“I’m not upset, darling. I’m just curious, besides. I think you look beautiful without all this extra stuff.” He gestured around the wax room. A part of you smiled as you chuckled. “I mean you’re right but I still like to keep up with myself, I’m a lady,” you shrugged, staring at him.

He bit his bottom lip before letting go. “And I love that you care about yourself, but from my perspective you have to understand it’s not the best feeling for me knowing another man is seeing you like this,”. He held his point in hopes you’d agree, and you did but you still had plans, “just let someone do it this once…we’re already here and you scared him away, I’m sure he’s not coming back,”.

“Good. You’re gorgeous darling but I prefer no man have you in the way I do.”

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[cinnamongrl2006]

what if…. English Major nerd!jason tutoring bimbo!reader… and reader’s entire mission is to just annoy him / flirt with him so he’ll do her course work so she doesn’t have to

* ⊹₊⟡⋆ mdni 18+ * ⊹₊⟡⋆

a/n: My queen @ditzydoe444 has some stuff about this that are soo scrumptious, so defo check her blog out, THAT BEING SAID— here’s my interpretation of it, enjoyy. Also, do we like the new format or was the three picture banner thing cuter? Also, this gave me war flashbacks from my uni lit class, that was WAR *

Warnings: fingering (idk, nothing else happens, guys)

When you were assigned Jason as a tutor for your English lit course you thought it'd be easy to get him to do all the work, a bat of your eyes and an empty promise and he'd be scrambling behind you like a lost puppy; however, you soon found it wasn't like that.

At first he didn't think much of the lingering touches and fleeting glances, of the way you'd rest your hand on his thigh and leaned over his hips to see the glowing laptop screen better, or how you’d chew on your lip, looking up at him with wide eyes; but then came the bolder touches, the flirting and pouting your glossed lips at him when you didn’t want to do the coursework.

And Jason, sweet and doting, smiled back with his cheeks and ears red and a boner in his jeans.

You prided yourself in the fact that you could get him hard nearly as quick as he got you soaked, you’d always had a thing for nerdy guys.

Jason was anything but stupid, and he quickly realized you were trying to lure him to do all the work, so when you put your hand over his clothed cock that day— running it up and down his half hard shaft while you spoke about the reading with feigned innocence— he didn’t stop you, instead he angled his hips up into your palm and groaned, smiling at your flustered look.

You recovered quickly, manicured hand gripping his clothed cock harder, complaining about how you just didnt get the coursework.

“Come on…you do get it, we’ve gone over it before. It’s just— metaphors.” His voice came out strained, breathy.

“No, Jay, I swear I don’t— can’t you just…do it so I can see what it is?” You whined, body angled towards him, buzzing at the proximity; your tits pushed up enticingly close to his face.

He could give in easily, reach out and—no. He’d voluteered to tutor you, not fuck you (no matter how much he wanted to do the latter).

All his resolve came crumbling when you spread your legs slightly and placed his hand on your inner thigh.

“You can at least explain it again, no?” Your fingers wrapped around his wrist, pulling his hand closer to where you wanted it.

That’s how you ended up with his thick fingers playing with your clit as he quizzed you. Whenever you’d get a question wrong his movements would halt, if you staggered or didn’t know the answer, he’d slow down.

“I don’t know, Jay, I swear!” You whined, hips pushing up against his hand.

“Babe, you do know. Come on, I told you less than an hour ago.” His tone didn’t have that usual veil of stoicism you’d once confused with shyness, he was almost patronizing.

“Let’s do this,” He ripped his hand off your panties, his fingers glistened with your arousal when he pushed them past your lips. “If you get the question right, I’ll put a finger in.”

You whined, sucking his fingers clean. “Fine.”

“Okay, use your pretty little head, what do you think?” His words were sweet, calming as he snaked his hand up your skirt and under your panties again.

“It’s…lady Macbeth?” You whined, his hand now so close to where you needed him.

“Such a smart girl,” He pushed a finger in. “See? You just needed an incentive, didn’t you?”

────୨ৎ────

* I’m sooo considering doing a part two for this of just smut because I lovedd writing it, so if the anon who sent this wants it lmkkk!!

masterlist

[shesgaymichaelscott]

melissa x fem!reader where reader is jacob's sister and melissa says it's ok if she stays with them while she visits but they catch feelings fast. bonus points if reader decides to stay at the end (and maybe work at abbott?)

Sister, Sister

(really no warnings/tags, this is just a cute lil thing😇, fluff!)

Word Count: 6k

taglist <3: @writerspirit @schemmentigfs

~

"Melissa," Jacob said, following her into the kitchen like a particularly nervous shadow, "do you believe in the spirit of generosity?"

Melissa didn't look up from her coffee. "Jacob. You're already living in my house."

"Exactly!" he chirped, trying for cheerful but landing somewhere between guilty and manic. "And it's been so generous of you. The way you let me move in—and may I say, I've felt so at home, especially once I got over the smell of Vicks VapoRub in your bathroom—"

"You used my towel, Jacob."

"I said I was sorry!"

She gave him a look that could blister drywall. "What do you want?"

"Okay. Hypothetically. What if someone else needed a place to stay too?"

Melissa narrowed her eyes. "If this is about moving more of your jackets into my closet, the answer is still no."

Jacob laughed nervously. "No! Nothing like that! It's not for me. It's for... my sister."

Melissa blinked. "You don't have a sister."

"I do!" he said quickly. "You've just never met her because she lives in D.C. and has this wildly impressive life and she's very kind and beautiful and calm and basically the anti-me."

Melissa raised a brow. "So she's imaginary."

"She's real," he huffed. "And she's coming into town for a job interview. For a teaching job. At a charter school."

Melissa immediately narrowed her eyes. "Strike one."

"Or—" Jacob jumped in— "possibly at a public school if she can get her foot in the door. Which brings me to the thing I need to ask."

She stared at him over the rim of her mug.

"She was going to stay with a friend, but they had a pipe burst and now she doesn't have anywhere to go and I thought, well, I already live in your guest room—"

"—against my better judgment—"

"—and since she's only here for a few days, maybe she could crash on the couch or bunk with me or something? She's neat. Quiet. Way too nice for this family. You'll barely notice her."

Melissa sighed. She already knew she was going to say yes, and that fact alone irritated her. "Christ. Fine. She can stay."

"Really?!"

"Yeah. I got soft somehow. Must be all the estrogen from your skin care products."

Jacob hugged her. "You won't regret this! She's grounded. She's calm. And she's very pretty. Like, in a classic, non-threatening way."

Melissa narrowed her eyes. "Why would that matter?"

"No reason!" Jacob squeaked, backing toward the hall. "I'll go pick her up from the train!"

An hour later, you showed up on Melissa's doorstep wearing a soft sweater, nice jeans, and a nervous smile. You had a rolling suitcase, a canvas tote full of books, and a voice that made Melissa freeze when you said:

"Hi! You must be Melissa. Thanks so much for letting me stay—I promise I'll be a ghost. A very grateful, polite, dishwashing ghost."

Melissa blinked. You were warm. Pretty. Calm in a way that made the world around you feel quieter.

"Uh, yeah," she said, stepping aside. "Come in. Shoes off, thermostat's sacred, and don't let Jacob near the air fryer."

You laughed. "Noted."

Jacob wasn't wrong. You were easy. You complimented her throw pillows, helped her plate dinner without being asked, and when you sat at the table between her and Jacob, you looked more like you belonged there than he did.

She was supposed to be annoyed by the whole situation.

Instead, she kept glancing at you across the table—and couldn't stop wondering what your hair would smell like if you leaned just a little closer.

Melissa kept waiting for the awkwardness to kick in—for you to say something weird, or ask too many questions, or knock over a glass and apologize sixteen times. But you didn't. You just... fit.

Jacob did most of the talking (as usual), bouncing between stories about work and whatever book club he'd temporarily joined this week, while you laughed in all the right places and added thoughtful little interjections that somehow made Melissa want to talk more.

Which she never did. Not at dinner. Not like this.

When the food was gone and Jacob finally excused himself ("I have a call with my therapist-slash-poetry coach"), Melissa didn't even try to stop you from helping with the dishes. You stood next to her at the sink like it was something you'd done a hundred times before—easy, companionable, quiet except for the soft clink of forks in suds.

She handed you a towel. You dried the plates without her asking.

"So," you said, your voice low, not prying, "do you like working at Abbott?"

Melissa paused. Most people asked if she liked kids. You didn't. You asked about the school. The work.

She nodded slowly. "Yeah. I do."

You glanced over at her, eyes kind. "Jacob says the kids love you."

She snorted. "Jacob says that because he's scared of me."

"I can see why," you teased, a playful glint in your eye. "You're very... intimidating. What with the apron and dish soap."

That made her smile. Damn it.

A few minutes later, you both had full wine glasses and had settled on the couch. Melissa curled into the corner without thinking. You mirrored her without hesitation.

"So," you asked, "what made you become a teacher?"

She didn't usually answer that question. Not really. But you waited, not filling the silence, not pushing.

"Kids get overlooked," she finally said. "Especially the loud ones. Or the ones with crap going on at home. I figured if I could be the one adult that sees 'em..." she shrugged, "that'd be worth something."

You were quiet for a beat.

Then, softly: "That is worth something."

When you looked at her again, Melissa saw it in your eyes. You weren't just being polite. You meant it. And somehow that was worse.

She drained the rest of her wine and stood. "Alright, enough sincerity for one night."

You grinned. "My lips are sealed."

She showed you where the towels were, muttered something about how Jacob stole all the good toothpaste, and tried not to notice the way you lingered in the hallway a little too long, looking around like it already felt a little bit like home.

And when she turned back toward the kitchen—just for one last glass of water—she passed the guest room with the door cracked open.

And you were there.

Not dressed up. Not tucked in. Just... you.

Standing near the bed in a loose, faded T-shirt, wiping off the last of your makeup with practiced, absent swipes. Your hair was soft now, not styled, just hanging around your face like you'd had a long day and stopped pretending it didn't wear you out.

You caught her watching.

She expected you to jump, to pull the door shut.

But instead, you smiled—gentle, quiet, warm.

"Goodnight, Melissa."

Melissa opened her mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again.

"Night," she managed.

She walked away before she could do something stupid like ask if you wanted a cup of tea. Or tell you how nice you looked like that. Or admit that she didn't actually mind you being here.

That she liked it.

Instead, she lay in bed with the lamp off, staring at the ceiling, every soft part of her trying to win a war against the hard edge she'd spent years perfecting.

She was supposed to be annoyed.

She wasn't.

⸻

Melissa was already up when you wandered into the kitchen the next morning, your hair pulled half-up, eyes soft with sleep. You wore the same sweater from the night before, sleeves pushed up just past your elbows, and Melissa had to look away for a second because—Jesus—why was that so disarming?

"Morning," you said, voice still scratchy and gentle. "I didn't expect you to be up."

"I'm always up by six," she said, sliding a second mug of coffee toward you like it wasn't something she'd poured automatically the second she heard the floor creak.

You looked at it, then up at her. "You made me coffee?"

Melissa shrugged. "Didn't want Jacob ruining my ratio. He always adds too much creamer."

You smiled over the rim of the mug after your first sip. "This is really good."

"Don't tell him," she said, suddenly warm in the face. "He'll start expecting it."

You leaned on the counter across from her. "I already told him you're intimidating. But now I think I'm just impressed."

That made Melissa look up at you.

There it was again. That soft, real thing in your eyes. Like she didn't have to prove anything to you. Like you already saw her. And worse, like you liked what you saw.

"Do you always get this flirty before 7 a.m.?" she asked, trying to play it off, sipping her own coffee.

Your smile turned sheepish. "I'm only flirty when I'm nervous. I've got that interview this morning—remember?"

Oh. Right. The job. The possible move.

Melissa cleared her throat. "Charter school, right? In West Philly?"

You nodded. "Yeah. Not exactly my dream gig, but it's a start. Figured I'd try and move here either way. Be closer to Jacob. And—" You hesitated for half a beat. "I don't know. This place just feels... good."

Her stomach flipped.

She told herself it was the coffee.

"Good luck," she said. "You'll be great."

Before you could answer, chaos incarnate stormed into the kitchen (aka Jacob, wearing mismatched socks, a wrinkled button-up, and a righteous sense of urgency).

"Who touched my granola bar stash?!" he demanded, pointing wildly. "Melissa. Did you eat the one with the dark chocolate and sea salt? Be honest."

"I hid the one with the dark chocolate and sea salt," Melissa said flatly.

You held up your hands. "I swear I didn't touch the sacred snacks."

Jacob narrowed his eyes suspiciously but then noticed the coffee.

"Ooh! Did you make—" He took a sip from Melissa's mug and nearly choked. "Why is it strong enough to exfoliate my tongue?"

"Out," Melissa said, taking her mug back.

You grinned, grabbing your tote. "I should head out anyway. Wish me luck?"

Jacob launched into an elaborate two-minute affirmation ritual complete with finger hearts and a reference to Ruth Bader Ginsburg. Melissa just met your eyes and gave a quiet nod.

"Let me know how it goes."

You lingered for a second longer than necessary. Then nodded and left.

And Melissa stood there, mug in hand, throat dry, pretending she didn't feel like she'd just handed something important out the door.

⸻

"Wait, your sister is here?" Janine spun around so fast her curls hit Gregory in the face.

Jacob nodded, sitting on the edge of Barbara's desk. "Yep. She's in town for a job interview. Staying with me and Melissa."

Janine blinked. "With Melissa? And Melissa's okay with it?"

"I know, right?" Jacob grinned, proud and baffled. "I thought it'd be a whole thing. Like... Melissa would do that eye squint where you're not sure if she wants to kill you or just remove your spleen."

"She's very protective of her space," Barbara added diplomatically.

"I thought she hated houseguests," Janine whispered.

"She does," Barbara confirmed.

"Well, apparently not this one," Jacob said, pouring oat milk into his cup with a dramatic flourish. "She made her coffee this morning."

Janine's eyes nearly popped out of her head. "She shared her coffee?!"

"It wasn't just sharing. It was... intimate. They had, like, a moment. And Melissa didn't even threaten me."

Gregory shook his head. "Maybe she just likes your sister?"

Everyone froze.

Jacob slowly turned. "Gregory. With the dangerous ideas."

Barbara chuckled softly, then looked at Jacob. "Well, now I want to meet her."

Janine lit up like a lightbulb. "Yes! Bring her to Abbott! I need to see this mysterious Schemmenti-softener for myself."

You, meanwhile, had lasted approximately twelve minutes at the charter school before realizing it wasn't for you.

Maybe it was the cold tile floors. Or the way the front desk staff barely looked up. Or the framed quote in the hallway that read, "Rigidity breeds success."

Whatever it was, by the time the assistant principal used the word "compliance" for the third time, you were done.

You ducked into the parking lot and called the only person you knew in town with unfailing enthusiasm and a five-minute window between classes.

"Hey," you said, trying not to sound deflated.

Jacob answered instantly. "Did you get hired already?!"

"God, no. I barely got out. I think they wanted me to monitor bathroom breaks with a stopwatch."

"Yikes. That's a no."

"Big no," you sighed. "I still have time to kill before you're off. Should I just head home?"

There was a pause.

Then, "Come to Abbott."

You blinked. "What?"

"You're literally two blocks away. Come to Abbott. You can help in my classroom. We're doing paper mâché Egyptian tombs, and half of my students are allergic to glue sticks, apparently."

You hesitated.

He pushed. "C'mon. Janine wants to meet you. Barbara will adore you. And Melissa—"

"What about Melissa?"

"Melissa won't care," he said a little too fast. "Just come."

Twenty minutes later, you were standing outside the chaotic, sunlit doors of Abbott Elementary, tote bag over your shoulder, second-guessing every life choice—until the door swung open and Janine Teagues practically bounced toward you.

"Oh my god," she said, pulling you into a hug like you were long-lost family. "You're so cute! Jacob undersold you. Come in! Are you an Earth sign?"

You laughed. "Um, Taurus?"

"I knew it. Come on, I'll show you around before we go to Jacob's room."

The building was older, colorful, loud in the way that meant it was alive. Teachers ducked in and out of rooms, kids darted down the hall laughing, and everything smelled vaguely like crayons and possibility.

Barbara Howard greeted you with a measured nod and a warm smile. "Jacob's sister," she said, shaking your hand. "He speaks very highly of you."

"That's sweet," you replied, glancing at Jacob. "Though slightly suspicious."

Barbara chuckled. "You'll do just fine here."

And then—then—you passed her room.

Melissa was at her desk, arms crossed, eyes on something in her gradebook, red pen in hand like a weapon. She didn't look up.

But you felt her glance. Just for a second.

You smiled anyway. "Hey."

She looked up—briefly. "Hey."

Janine leaned in. "We'll be in Jacob's class if you need backup. Or a snack. Or a soul reading."

Melissa blinked at her, then looked at you again. "You here all day?"

"Just helping out," you said lightly. "Trying to stay out of trouble."

"Good luck," she muttered, eyes flicking to Jacob. "He's a magnet for chaos."

"I'll protect him," you grinned.

Something flickered in her expression—amusement? Fondness? She didn't answer. Just nodded and returned to grading, but her pen didn't move for several long seconds.

Jacob's class was... something.

You'd forgotten the raw chaos of middle school energy. These kids weren't afraid to test boundaries—or glue their tombs shut with Elmer's and an alarming amount of glitter.

But you handled it.

You redirected questions. You diffused drama. You helped one student design a sarcophagus lid while another asked if you were married, and when you said no, she whispered, "Miss Schemmenti is also not married," like she'd just discovered a critical piece of state intelligence.

At lunch, you sat with Janine, Barbara, and Jacob in the lounge while Gregory gave you a slow once-over, nodding politely.

"Jacob's sister, huh?" he said. "Didn't expect you to be so quiet."

"She's deceptively calm," Jacob added, mouth full of granola bar. "Like a duck on water. Serene on the surface, kicking like hell underneath."

"She's good with the kids," Barbara said warmly. "Very natural. I assume you're considering local options?"

You hesitated, and your eyes flicked—without thinking—toward the second grade classroom just down the hall.

"Maybe," you said softly.

⸻

That night, back at Melissa's, you helped with dinner again without being asked. Jacob flitted in and out, offering critiques from the sidelines, until Melissa swatted him with a dishtowel and sent him to set the table.

You sautéed vegetables. Melissa grilled chicken. You found a rhythm.

"You didn't mention you were good with kids," she said casually as she stirred something on the stove.

"You didn't mention you were watching me," you replied, teasing.

She smirked. "I wasn't."

"Sure."

There was a beat of silence.

"You made it look easy," she said eventually, a little quieter.

You shrugged. "It felt easy."

You turned and caught her looking again. Just briefly. But her expression had softened.

Dinner was relaxed. Jacob told an overly dramatic story about a student who tried to claim his tomb had been cursed, and you leaned into the table with a quiet laugh that made Melissa watch your mouth more than she should've.

Afterward, the three of you ended up on the couch, full and lazy, with half a glass of red wine each and Jeopardy playing low on the TV.

"Please," Jacob said, tossing a throw pillow over his face. "She's a human encyclopedia. I'm begging you not to buzz in."

You grinned, already sitting up straighter. "I can't help it. It's genetic."

"You're adopted."

Melissa snorted into her wine.

Ten minutes in, you'd correctly answered six questions in a row—without hesitation.

Melissa turned to you slowly. "You're a trivia nerd."

You nodded proudly. "Big time. My brain's basically 70% facts no one asked for."

She laughed—really laughed. "You're kidding."

"Nope. I used to run a bar trivia night back home. Thursdays were 'Obscure History' rounds. I got booed a lot."

Melissa looked at you like she was trying not to smile too hard. "You'd kill at poker."

"I'm terrible at poker," you said, dead serious. "I can't bluff for anything."

Jacob groaned. "Don't bond over gambling. You're encouraging her."

But Melissa wasn't listening to him.

She was watching you—with your socked feet tucked under you, your makeup off, a soft t-shirt that made your eyes look warmer somehow—and she was thinking about how easy it was to sit next to you. How you didn't fill the space with noise. How your laugh stayed with her longer than the punchlines.

Jacob dozed off partway through Final Jeopardy.

You and Melissa stayed up.

Quiet. Comfortable.

When she finally stood, stretching with a soft groan, she glanced back at you.

"You settling in okay?" she asked.

You smiled. "Better than okay."

And maybe she shouldn't have liked that answer so much.

The next morning, Jacob's class was knee-deep in paper-mâché chaos when you arrived—but instead of corralling middle schoolers again, he passed you a coffee and a sly smile.

"Change of plans. Melissa needs a hand today. Her aide called out."

Your heart thumped.

"Oh?"

"She didn't ask for you," he added quickly. "She just said she needed someone competent and not Ava. I filled in the blanks."

You sipped your coffee. "Did she... seem okay with it?"

"She didn't throw anything."

"That's your metric?"

Jacob shrugged. "She didn't throw something at me. So I figured we were good."

Melissa's classroom was calmer than Jacob's, but only in that it wasn't actively on fire.

She looked up from a spelling worksheet when you stepped in and didn't smile—but the slight softening of her eyes was just as good.

"You got drafted?"

"Apparently."

She nodded to the whiteboard. "We're doing compound words and then a read-aloud. And if Jacob asks about his pencil again, I told him you cast a protective spell on it."

You laughed and moved to her side instinctively. "Did I?"

"Clearly. He hasn't lost it all day."

By snack time, the kids were glued to your read-aloud voice. By lunch, Melissa had let you handle half the spelling review. By math, she caught herself watching you again—your hands, your patience, the way the students leaned toward you like flowers to sun.

She crossed her arms tighter and turned away.

She was not falling for Jacob's sister.

Barbara noticed. Of course Barbara noticed.

She stepped into Melissa's room during recess, leaned casually against the bookshelf, and fixed Melissa with that look—the one that could peel paint from the walls.

"She's good," Barbara said mildly.

Melissa didn't look up. "Mmhmm."

"Kind. Calm. The children like her."

"I noticed."

"And you like her."

Melissa finally looked at her. "She's Jacob's sister."

Barbara raised one regal eyebrow. "And you're a grown woman."

Melissa exhaled. "It's a bad idea."

Barbara's smile was faint but knowing. "Maybe. Or maybe you just don't want to admit you feel soft about something."

Melissa opened her mouth, closed it, then muttered, "I hate when you're right."

Barbara's chuckle was like gospel. "Then you're going to really hate what's about to happen."

Their staff meeting after school was supposed to be about art supply ordering.

It was not.

Because Janine, Gregory, Barbara, Jacob, and even Mr. Johnson had decided they were not letting you disappear.

"She's literally perfect," Janine was saying, hands waving. "She can teach, she knows kids, and she doesn't flinch when a second grader sneezes directly into her mouth! Hire her!"

Ava, on her phone in sunglasses, did not look up. "We already have teachers."

"We have a hallway ghost aide position open!" Jacob cried. "She'd be perfect!"

"She's from out of town," Ava said. "What if she's just here for vibes and brunch?"

"She applied to Liberty," Melissa said suddenly.

Everyone turned.

Ava squinted. "Why do you know that?"

Melissa shrugged, too casual. "She told me. After I said she was good with the kids."

Barbara sipped her tea smugly. Janine let out an audible gasp.

Gregory blinked. "So we all agree she should stay?"

"Yes," said everyone.

Ava groaned. "Fine. I'll talk to HR. But if she ghosts us after I start her paperwork, I'm sending her a Molotov in the mail."

Meanwhile, in the quiet kitchen back at Melissa's house, you were spooning pasta into a bowl and thinking about the kids who hugged you goodbye.

Thinking about the way Melissa's voice softened when she said, "You here all day?"

Thinking—maybe, maybe—you didn't want to leave after all.

⸻

The next morning started with rain, a stubbed toe, and Melissa offering you a mug of coffee with a gruff, "You good?" that sounded a little too much like don't leave for her comfort.

You nodded, hugging the cup. "I've got the Liberty interview after school."

She didn't look up from the toaster. "Right."

"They're big on tech integration, I guess. Lots of digital dashboards."

"That sounds like a nightmare."

You snorted. "Yeah, but at this point I need a job."

Melissa set the toast down harder than necessary. "Ava's supposed to interview you today."

You blinked. "What?"

"She's dragging her feet, as usual. But it's happening. After lunch."

"Wait, she actually said she'd do it?"

"She said if she had time between 'administering justice' and her lash appointment, she'd try."

You laughed into your mug. "That's promising."

Melissa didn't smile. Just looked at you—wet hair in soft waves, hoodie sleeves pushed up, sleepy eyes—and felt something crawl up her spine that she did not have time for.

"I'm just saying," she said, almost too casually, "you've already got people here who like you. That's worth something."

Your heart did a soft, dumb little flip.

But before you could answer, Jacob came crashing into the kitchen, soaked from the rain and ranting about a pigeon that stole his umbrella.

Melissa rolled her eyes and muttered, "Never mind."

⸻

At lunch, Ava finally remembered she was supposed to be doing something work-adjacent.

"Interview time!" she said, bursting into the teacher's lounge in a lime green tracksuit and sparkly slides. "Let's get this over with before I start reading your aura."

You blinked. "Wait, now?"

Jacob cheered. "Yay! You're gonna kill it!"

Barbara gave you a wink, and Janine practically dragged you to Ava's office, where a "job interview" was already in full swing. If you could call it that.

Ava had her feet on her desk and sunglasses on indoors. "So, tell me your name again. For legal reasons."

You blinked. "It's on my resume."

"Right. And what makes you wanna work at the greatest school in Philly?"

Janine popped up with a notepad like she was your agent. "She's good with kids, adaptable, certified in two states, and Jacob's sister but in a good way."

"I still say we make her co-assistant principal," Ava mused. "Then I don't have to attend meetings. Or answer emails. Or—wait, what's the job she's applying for again?"

You turned to Barbara, who gave you a rare, gentle smile from the seat beside Ava. "You belong here, dear. That's what we're saying."

You blinked. "All of you?"

A voice behind you—steady, low, familiar—answered.

"Yes."

You turned.

Melissa stood in the doorway, arms crossed like usual, but her eyes were soft. "You belong here."

And for the first time in a while, you believed it.

Back in the hallway after, Melissa walked with you in companionable silence.

"You're still going to Liberty?"

"I kind of have to. It's scheduled."

She nodded. "Right."

A beat.

"You know we'd take care of you here, right?"

You turned, a little startled.

Her eyes were dark, steady. "If you stayed."

You felt the air shift.

"Yeah," you said. "I know."

You didn't say it out loud, but you already knew the truth:

Liberty never stood a chance. You felt drawn to Abbott.

And maybe the people—one in particular.

Later than evening, Jacob left for a book reading at seven.

He hovered in the doorway with his tote bag and his excitement and his gentle insistence that you should come because it was "a very timely queer memoir and the author includes footnotes!", but you begged off, blaming a fake headache and an even faker yawn.

"I'll just stay in," you said, rubbing your temple. "Long day."

He bought it. Or pretended to. Either way, you waved him out and stayed behind.

With Melissa. Alone.

She didn't say much at first. Just went about reheating leftovers, her motions precise, practiced. You offered to help, and she handed you silverware and salad tongs without meeting your eye.

Dinner was quiet. Peaceful.

You sat across from each other, plates between you, the hum of the fridge filling the spaces where Jacob's chatter usually lived.

"I think I'm staying," you said eventually, voice low.

Melissa didn't look surprised. She nodded once. "Yeah?"

You pushed a piece of lettuce across your plate. "It's not just Abbott. Though it is that. I... haven't felt that wanted in a long time."

She looked up then. Met your eyes. "You should feel wanted."

You swallowed. "It's been a weird couple of years. I've moved around a lot. Never quite stuck. And I started thinking maybe it was me. That maybe I'm just not someone people... keep."

Melissa set her fork down.

"That's not true."

Your chest ached. "You don't know that."

"I know what I see."

You blinked.

Her voice was softer now, but steady. "The way my kids look at you. The way you listen. Like what they say matters."

You gave her a small, uneven smile. "Maybe I'm just good at pretending."

"You're not."

That stilled you.

She leaned back slightly, searching your face, like she wanted to say something more but didn't know how to get it past her teeth.

So you gave her a thread to pull. "Why do you care so much?"

Melissa's brow creased. "Because you matter."

Simple. Quiet. Like it had been true for a while now.

You didn't speak.

Just watched her, heart in your throat, as she reached for her wine and didn't drink it.

The air between you tightened. Subtle. Magnetic.

Your eyes dipped to her mouth.

And hers—to yours.

Neither of you moved. Not quite. But something shifted.

Her hand twitched like it wanted to reach across the table. Yours mirrored it without thinking.

Then she stood too fast, the chair scraping the floor. "I'll get dessert."

You blinked. "I didn't know there was dessert."

"There isn't," she said, already walking to the freezer. "But I got some stupid mini ice cream bars Jacob won't touch because they're not 'plant-based nostalgia.'"

You laughed, quietly.

She passed you one a minute later, sat back down. Didn't meet your eyes again for the rest of the meal.

But her foot bumped yours under the table and didn't move.

⸻

The next morning, you walked back into Abbott like you already belonged there.

Jacob met you at the front doors with a coffee and a proud older-brother smile that made your throat tighten.

"You look bright-eyed and extremely not-hungover," he said as you took the cup.

"High bar," you teased.

"Only the best for my beloved sister-slash-new favorite co-teacher. I told Ava you were coming in again, and she said, and I quote, 'Cool, free labor.' Which, honestly, is her love language."

You snorted, bumping shoulders with him as you followed him down the hall.

The school was warm. Familiar now. And terrifying in the way things are when you know you're already attached.

"I talked to Liberty," you admitted as you stepped into his classroom. "Told them I wasn't interested."

Jacob stopped short, eyes wide. "Wait. You—what?"

"I turned it down."

"You turned down Liberty for—" He gestured around you. "This?"

You looked around too. Paper mâché pyramids. Posters. Pencil shavings. Heart.

"Yes."

He stared at you. "Because of me?"

You smiled, soft and a little sad. "Because of you, because of the kids, because of Barbara and Janine and... because I didn't want to leave."

He caught it. The hesitation.

His eyes narrowed in a flash of older brother perception. "Because you didn't want to leave... who, exactly?"

You sat down at the student desk nearest you and busied yourself with straightening a pile of papers. "I'm not—"

"Melissa?" he said like a delighted accusation.

Your silence betrayed you.

"Oh my god. Oh my god," he whispered like it was Christmas morning. "You have a thing."

"I do not."

"You do. I knew it! I mean, it's classic. Grumpy redhead with a secret marshmallow center meets quiet, emotionally intelligent hot girl from out of town—"

"Jacob."

"You're basically a Hallmark movie."

You covered your face with your hands.

"I'm just saying," he went on, voice pitched with glee, "you two were literally staring at each other across the dinner table like you were in a period drama. I thought at any moment she was going to dramatically stand and declare her intentions."

"I nearly kissed her last night."

Jacob's jaw dropped so hard it may have unhinged.

"Are you kidding?!"

"No," you said quietly, cheeks warm. "But I didn't. She stood up. Got ice cream instead."

Jacob blinked. "God. That is the most Melissa thing I've ever heard."

"I don't know if I should tell her," you admitted. "What if I'm wrong? What if I misread it? What if I say something and ruin everything?"

Before he could respond, the door burst open.

"Did someone say romance?!"

Janine entered like a whirlwind of glitter and emotional intuition, coffee in hand, eyes bright.

Jacob pointed at you like he'd been waiting for backup. "She's in love with Melissa."

Janine gasped. "Knew it!"

You groaned, but Janine ignored it, pulling up a chair like this was an emergency meeting of the Abbott Elementary Love Council.

"Okay. We all see it. Melissa sees it. She just doesn't know what to do with it. Which is classic trauma response meets internalized tough-girl act. She needs a nudge."

You stared at them both. "A nudge?"

"Say something," Jacob urged. "Tell her. You don't even have to be weird about it. You could literally say, 'Hey, I like you. That's part of why I'm staying.'"

Janine nodded. "Boom. That's cute. That's honest. That's vulnerable."

"And if she doesn't feel the same?" you asked softly.

Jacob sobered. "She does."

Janine added, "But even if she didn't? You still belong here. You're not just Melissa-adjacent. You've got your own place here. We all feel it."

You stared down at your hands. Heart thudding.

You wanted to believe them. You wanted to believe that maybe this place—this person—could really be yours. But first, you had to stop dancing around it.

Before it passed you by.

Abbott's end of school day was always a kind of exhale. Students gone, halls quiet, the soft hum of the janitor's cart somewhere in the distance. Most teachers had packed up and left, or were hiding in their rooms pretending they had. You wandered the hall slowly, heart thudding in your chest like it had a deadline.

Melissa's classroom door was cracked.

You hesitated outside of it, one hand on the frame, willing your voice to work. When it didn't, you knocked gently and peeked inside.

She was alone, red pen still in hand, grading spelling tests with the same focus she gave her football bets and life in general.

"Hey," you said softly.

Her head lifted immediately. That unreadable look in her eyes again. "Hey."

"Can I come in?"

"Door's open," she said, but her voice had softened in a way that made it feel like more than just an answer.

You stepped inside, let the door close gently behind you. She didn't stand, but she leaned back a little, arm resting along the edge of the desk, like she was trying not to look too interested.

You cleared your throat. "I, um... I turned Liberty down."

She blinked. "Yeah?"

You nodded, stepping a little closer. "And Addington. And the other one."

Her brow furrowed. "You're running out of options, sweetheart."

"I know." You took a breath. "Except one."

That made her go still.

You moved to the desk slowly, heart in your throat. "Abbott was never the plan. But the last few days... it's felt like home. I haven't felt that way in a long time. Not at school. Not anywhere."

Melissa set the pen down. Didn't speak.

"And I think part of that is Jacob and the kids and the chaos and Barbara's very gentle judgment."

That made her smile, small and flickering.

"But part of it," you continued, voice just a little more raw now, "is you."

You saw her take a breath. Her hands flexed lightly on the desk.

"I feel something when I'm near you," you said. "Like I've found something I didn't know I was missing. And I don't want to go back to not feeling that way. So if I'm staying—if I'm really doing this—then I need you to know that."

Silence.

You swallowed. "Melissa?"

She stood. Slowly. Crossed the room like she was approaching a fuse that might spark too early. But her eyes never left yours.

When she stopped in front of you, you weren't sure what to expect—she was hard to read at the best of times—but her hand reached up and gently brushed a piece of hair behind your ear.

"I knew," she said.

Your breath caught.

"I didn't want to," she added, a little quieter. "Because it felt like too much, too fast. Like maybe I'd scare you off."

You gave a wet laugh. "That's Jacob's job."

She smiled.

Then, more serious: "But I don't want to scare you. I don't want to push."

"You're not," you said. "I'm here. I want to be here."

Her hand lingered by your cheek. You leaned into it, just slightly, and her thumb brushed your skin like she couldn't believe she was allowed to.

She leaned in—just a few inches—and stopped.

"Can I—?"

You kissed her.

Soft. Sure. Like you were making a promise.

When you pulled away, she looked dazed in the best way. Her voice was rough when she finally spoke.

"Jesus Christ."

You smiled. "That a good 'Jesus Christ' or a bad one?"

She kissed you this time.

Yeah. Definitely a good one.

Ten minutes later, you were walking side-by-side down the hallway, Melissa's hand brushing yours but not quite holding it. You couldn't stop smiling.

"You know," you said, "technically Ava hasn't even offered me the job."

"She will," Melissa muttered.

"And if she doesn't?"

"I'll threaten her."

You laughed. "You think that'll work?"

Melissa gave you a look. "You ever been threatened by a Schemmenti? Works every time."

As you turned the corner toward Ava's office, you glanced sideways at her.

"Thank you," you said softly.

She didn't ask for what.

Just bumped your shoulder and said, "Don't thank me yet. You still gotta survive picture day, parent-teacher conferences, and at least one fire drill where a kid pulls it because he forgot his homework."

You grinned. "Sounds like home."

She looked at you then—really looked at you—and nodded.

"It is now."

[gamblersdoll]

drunk! bakugou, ex! bakugou , masturbation (m received)

it had been hell without you.

many months that you both broken up, damn near a year since the day you both argued like wolves and you both threw your hands up, saying you were done.

bakugou had liked to think that he broke up with you, not the other way around. he always told his people or the media, “i broke up with her, she just wasnt working for me.” and in reality? neither one of you broke up with each other. it was simple: you both separated, not one separate from each other.

but he couldnt let you have the last laugh.

he hated how much his friends would come to your defense— he knew they would, the countless talks of how he was wrong about some things. in pretense, he got mad that you didnt answer your phone on your way home from work (i mean, how could you? youre driving, for fucks sake), and he blew you off just to try and show you a lesson.

boy, did he get an earfull from kirishima.

he hated it. he hated you.

he hated how you moved out and post your pictures like with no flaw, no matter what. you were smiling. he hated how you look so good, and youre back on the platforms of dating.

he hated how he let you go.

he hated how he was somewhat insecure with his masculinity and thought that he was just some plaything you had— also matched with his flowing ego, it was a mental battle with himself.

the burn of the hennessy breached his lips, his adams apple bobbing after he tossed his head back. “fuck..”

“not you bein’ an alcoholic.” kaminari giggled, elbowing him. “the breakup that bad?”

“you better stop before he becomes an angry drunk.” kirishima warns, reminding kaminari and the past fight he and the blonde had. “lets go, we’ll be back man.”

“awh, where we goin?” kaminari asked, putting some pep in his step and letting the door slam behind him.

bakugou did miss you. he missed finding random coils of hair in his bathroom, he missed finding random bonnets of yours that you lost from months ago. he missed the smell of honey and brown sugar from your skin. he missed the random meals that he came home to.

he took things for granted— no, he didnt take shit for granted. you just didnt respect the fact he was your man.

and yet, he thought about how bad he missed the slick of your creamy slit. he missed his balls slapping against your clit when he tapped that ass. he missed the way youd scream for him. maybe its the drunk getting to his brain, the warm tingles of his skin and hes whipping his dick out from his jeans. he tugs at the tip, a guttural groan from his lips— and he’s scrambling to find his phone.

“hello?” you ask, the ‘unknown number’ on your screen and you hear shuffling. “whos’ this?”

“hey,” katsuki mumbles, you can hear it: hes dark liquor drunk. there was a difference, especially when he drank wine for the first time. “how ya doin?”

“katsuki?” you’re dumbfounded, its been damn near a year. “what do you want? to bother me again? we’re done.” you grit your teeth, really not in the mood for his games. you were just about to hit the fattest joint, (one that mina gave you months ago), and here he was.

“cmon, bruh,” he groans, you hear that damned shuffle again, his hand half hazardly tugging his shaft again. “been thinkin’ bout you, girl.”

“katsuki,” you pinch the bridge of your nose, “we. are. done. i dont want shit to do with you.”

“cmon, baby,” he whines, and you hear something wet in the background. you want to question him, but embarrassment flows your veins. “just hear me outtt..”

“im fuckin deaf then. hear no evil, see no evil.” you snip back, and he laughs. “i wont ask again, the fuck you want.”

“been thinkin bout you nd i,” he starts, and you hear it— hes fucking his own fist. “been thinking about what the hell we had and then— god, fuck..” he says lowly, you feel like hes just called for a quick fuck. “then how i ruined it entirely.”

“so.. you call to talk about how you miss me, meanwhile youve got your dick in yer hand?” you ask, and he sucks his teeth. “dont catch an attitude.”

“ ‘m not.. but.” he sighs, fondling his balls and he stutters. “i want you back.”

“youre drunk.”

“i mean that, mama..” he softly says. ‘mama,’ the nickname he gave you and how much you fell in love with it. “miss you like shit, when could i come see you?”

“the next time i post myself.” you say snarky, and he gets really quiet. “i dont know, katsuki. i did move a little further away.”

“thats fine, ill make the commute.” he feels his nipples harden, and he moans a little when he quickens his pace. “fuckfuckfuck—fuck..” he chants, his conscious mind slipping in and out. “want you so bad, baby,” he chokes out, “you hear how fuckin riled you get me?”

you want to pull your panties to the side and help him come, you remember those times youd both walk in on each other and just watch each other play with your nerves.

“ fuck, send me your location.” he says, so close to his tipping point and you can hear it. “lemme see you, baby. miss that pretty fuckin’ pussy.”

“youre drunk, boy.” you mumble, but he groans. “maybe sometime this week?”

“ugh,” he sighs, practically teasing himself with the slow and mean tugs from his dickhead. “at least let me see that pussy over the phone, need it so bad.” he says, a chuckle from his lips, “cant come to any other woman, just that little pretty pussy of yers..”

“im on my period, bakugou.”

“uh uh, thats not my name baby.” he snickers, “what happened to me bein yer’ daddy, huh? did you forget that much?” he feels it coming on him, creeping. that orgasm that was so close and he wanted nothing more than to cover your face white. “shitt.. just call me that, please. want to be your big daddy again— and ill fuck you slow nd’ stupid.”

you ponder on it, your fingertips slowly creeping to your panties. “what do i get in return?”

“me, a fat cock inside that needy pussy, and a redo.” he was borderline pleading, but he needed you so bad.

you hum, pulling your sticky panties away from your cunny. “you like me calling you big daddy, huh?” you tease , hearing his low but obvious growl from his throat. “take that as a yes.”

“fuck, that shouldve been yer face i just came on.” he sighs, moving his hand to wipe the sweat away from his brow. “send me your location tomorrow.” he demands, hearing you chuckle and then the end call tone. “fucking— girl..”

“missed you that badly, didnt he?” hitoshi asks, looking up at you through your thighs. “be a good girl and admit that you miss him.”

“i.. i do.” you mumble, hearing his slurps and suckles at your thighs. “toshi!”

“didnt even have to use my quirk.” he chuckles, his lazy eyes and eyebags bore into you. “fuck, how could he let this pussy free? poor thing.”

“he’s gonna be so pissed.” you groan, covering your eyes. “you know he hates you.”

“so? shouldnt have let me catch you.”

𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗍𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗀𝖺𝗆𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖽𝗈𝗅𝗅 2024.