#I am a secret third thing: I can make them kiss

[chubs-deuce]

unstoppable force vs immovable object is one of my favorite dynamics

[intertexts]

also really funny to me that i wasn't very interested in most pd ships until new haven wards. ghostkicks insane qprisms obviously but now i'm like over here shaking and sobbing thinking abt evildead & ghostknife & all their dreadful intricate messy bestfriends little polycule. as mallard conway calls it.

[matsunoluvr]

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ how I think the boys from love and deepspace would give a first kiss :3

warnings: suggestive content (obviously?), writing might be out of character, spoilers in general, i get carried away explaining everything because i'm afraid of being accused of mischaracterisation

[story spoiler] first kiss = first kiss where mc is a hunter/the timeline in game

authors notes: i have favourites and it will show CLEARLY in my writing… sorry (not sorry no1 rafayel stan) and i am a yapper

characters: rafayel, xavier, zayne and sylus

link to my master list here!!

more below the cut :3

sorry rafayel... but i feel like he's the most unskilled at kisses because - hear me out - you're his very first kiss. lemurians as a species seem to value bonds and loyalty, and as the literal sea god he wasn't able to nor wanted to just hook up or mess around - he's looking for devotion!!!

(okay, we ignore the kiss in forgotten sea myth story because like come on there was literally no romance mc was drowning)

definitely waits a while before kissing you, rayafel really takes his time to fall into place. after all, he needs to make sure his beloved bride/groom is well and truly his!!!

the type to wait for the ‘right moment’ - but doesn’t force or stage it ykwim? like the time comes naturally - e.g. watching the sunset, or you’re leaning close to him whilst he’s painting

he’s a romantic 100% like there’s a reason his 'floral promise' card was (imo) way fluffier compared to the others - like xavier's was tender-ish but rafayel was fucking melting

he's a sweet talker I just know it.

that charm he uses on his clients? he doesn't want to nor will he manipulate you with it but you know he's going to ramp up the charm to tease you a little

definitely knows his effect on you and uses it to his full advantage (cough cough fiery undercurrents secret times) like whispering in your ear, making excuses to touch you or get close to you

(i think he’d be more 'traditional' because of lemurian customs - the whole bonding + [forgotten sea spoilers] the sea god ceremony where the mc must devote themselves to rafayel displaying a strong level of devotion)

SUCH A GENTLE KISSER OMG like compared to his almost bratty and childish personality he’s a gentleman when it comes to kisses (also because he's kind of unsure what to do...)

the type to tuck strand of your hair behind your ear, fiddle with it a little maybe twirl it around his finger before trailing a finger along your jawline... i can see him like massaging your ear too? idk how to describe it he's a handsy man

first kiss was definitely more sweet than passionate ugawhriulgs he's such a cutie

right after the first kiss i think he’d be pretty affectionate, rather than bratty/tsundere since for him to kiss someone i believe he’d really need to love them (and therefore is more open to being vulnerable)

affectionate as in saying something cheesy probably, commenting on how you tasted or another one of his poetic, artistic quotes (dw raf we love it)

wouldn't be satisfied with just one after that, i can see him going in for a more passionate second and even a third (i mean look at his 'floral promise' memory OR 'fiery undercurrents') in the same few minutes

these follow up kisses would probably be longer and way less chaste, hands moving from tilting your chin up to your waist ahahahahahuwfa

you'd have to show him the appeal of tongue if that's your thing because he's seen it before but never really saw what was nice about it

"But... you're just drinking each other's saliva?" "Rafayel that's hot-"

definitely relived the moment in his head hundreds of times after that night - and you bet your ass he painted a piece inspired from your first kiss with him

any kisses after that i feel like they would follow this default pattern;

if he initiated the kiss i think he’d be more cocky and teasing, especially if he surprised you with one and he sees your flustered face

“Didn’t expect that huh, cutie?”

if you surprised him, however, get ready for typical rafayel childish behaviour, blushing and averting his eyes, covering his mouth with the back of his hand and a pout

“Hey- what was that for!!” Σ（・□・；）

either way rafayel is the worlds silliest man and would cave into literally anything with just a few kisses from you

ALSO KISS HIS COLLAR BONES AND YOU'VE GOT A WHOLE NEW SCENARIO TO UNFOLD

oh i just have a feeling this man is devouring you because puh-LEASEE?? sir we aren't forgetting your 'tender night' card i know that night was anything but tender

xavier is the definition of pent-up desire because this man has been waiting a LONG time and he's not going to be able to hold back very well

(taking heavy inspiration from his '21 days' memory because with his reaction it kind of feels like his first kiss with mc... but tbh i don't know much about xavi)

he's definitely not shy when it comes down to it, yeah he gets flustered if he thinks about it because of course imagining kissing the person he's pined over for centuries is going to fluster the shit out of him but he doesn't shy away form the idea or avoid the topic in conversation

i feel like he'd bring it up casually - like in the 'partner go go' event (aka heartbreaker-chasing-rhythm-game event) he was so insistent on the 'kissing page'

mc was like "apparently you can solve arguments with a kiss" and this mf straight up said "we can argue then" this man is STARVED

i feel like you'd need to initiate the kiss or give him very clear signs you'd be okay with a kiss for it to happen, i don't know why i just feel like he's that type of person

the first kiss is deep despite him trying his best to hold back - you can just feel his desire and longing oozing out of him and he's definitely on fucking cloud nine

xavier's holding your face and stroking his thumb along your cheek and god damn he's good at kissing where the fuck did he learn this from?

the type to break the kiss and then fucking bulldoze into the next one and my god his restraints have broken and he's actually kissing you as if it's the last thing he's able to do on earth

100% a tongue user he's biting at your bottom lip before slipping it in the sly minx

after the kiss he's more flustered than he expected to be - kissing the love of his life (literally) sends him into a flurry of emotions he's never really experienced before

given how possessive xavier is i wouldn't be surprised if halfway through making out he managed to leave a hickey or two in very. visible. places.

he isn't even pretending to feel guilty in the slightest, a smug grin as he shrugs out a half-assed apology.

"Sorry, I guess you'll have to try hide it. Or don't, that would be easier."

if you leave any marks on him he's not leaving you along that night. forget sleeping you two are recreating 'tender night' ALL night.

but seriously, if you leave hickeys over his neck (his canonical sensitive area and where he feels vulnerable) he's going to go crazy because what do you mean you want everyone to know he's yours??? what do you mean you want him as much as he wants you??

tldr; xavier is unusually talented with his mouth and is desperate to prove it to you.

i accidentally wrote way more for xavier than i expected i even cut out some bits holy crap maybe i’m more into xavi than i thought

oh no... zayne you beautiful man i am so sorry... (here comes the one character i have no idea how to characterise + no clue about his lore zayne fans pls bear with me)

okay - zayne looks like a gentleman and i'm sure he very much is even in intimate moments, but i cannot get rid of the idea that his first kiss w you was lowk spicyyyyy

like OH MY GOD I JUST WATCHED SNOWY SERENITY RN I FUCKIGN KNEW IT

that man was pouncing on you in a hospital bed, dishevelled, and kissing you deep my god like the type of kiss that literally as you forgetting where you are

i feel like zayne would be the one to initiate the kiss, again no idea why maybe i'm falling into the dominant zayne agenda

you're probably surprised when he kisses you because he's usually so composed, the 'cold unfeeling' dr zayne - then suddenly he's panting and pushing himself on top of you (consensually of course), pinning you down and going to town.

when he kisses you i don't think he's much of a lip biter, but if you bite his lips or lick at him or anything he's not opposed, as long as your lips are on his and vice versa

after the first kiss he's going straight into another one, his patience has thinned to the point of snapping and now he just needs you.

his hands what does he do with his hands? i'm thinking the typical otome face hold, gentle grasp juxtaposing his fervent kisses LOL

now, why does he kiss you?? how does this all build up? unfortunately all i can think of to match this scenario is something angsty or something along the lines of zayne has fucking had it and all he wants is you

"I need you... please."

this is the type of kiss where he wants to drown in you, breathe you in and just smother his being into yours to forget and erase whatever else is happening/happened

if he's kissing you and pinning you down and you bring up your hand to interlock fingers with him - your warm hands against his cool hands? wow his kissing is all of a sudden even more passionate.

after the little make out session he's going to go all mushy on you, physical affection of an embrace something uncharacteristic of him to match his dishevelled state

in kisses after the first i like the idea that he checks your pulse mid make-out and just silently smirks/chuckles when he notices it's faster and more erratic than usual

"Why are you nervous, this isn't our first time."

he also has this sneaky habit of whispering incredibly close to your ear, the reason why i choose to point this out it because i feel like sometimes he uses his evol to his advantage to like, breathe out cool air on your neck/ear and likes to watch you shiver

the ultimate dominant figure if you try to kiss him first and take control he somehow manages to overcome you and take the lead without using his strength, just good ol' sweet talking and technique

congratulations, you managed to snatch a kiss from the renown leader sylus!!!

i can see why people would think he's promiscuous or a fuck-boy because honestly i see it, but imo just because he is more flirtatious, assertive and... responsive (try tapping his... crotch... in the café LOL) does NOT = play boy

to me it just shows that - unlike the other LIs - sylus is just more forward with his approach, he has that devil-may-care like feel to him ykwim?

"Do I like you? What type of question is that, isn't it obvious? Or do I need to show you?" is much different to "Hey baby girl lemme rock your world tnite xx"

but just because he's got a 'fuck-all' attitude doesn't mean he fucks around with random people, he's 1. got standards and 2. living in the n109 zone?? do you THINK he can afford to let random people close just to fuck???

that being said i don't think he's a kiss virgin, just very selective and honest man when it comes to love and physical intimacy

now, when i say he isn't a fuckboy, that doesn't mean i don't believe in cocky-smugass-know-it-all sylus - he kisses well. and with PASSION. and probably the worst part is that he knows it.

first kiss with sylus? i can't imagine him making a large fuss about it like rafayel, nor it having to be some "i'm-at-deaths-door-and-need-to-kiss-you-atleast-once" situation like zayne, but no matter where or when you two share a first kiss he is making sure you remember

that being said, there was definitely a LOT of romantic and sexual tension between you and sylus for at least weeks before the kiss, i mean the air was thick with suggestive glances and denial

i think you two'd have to already be in close proximity which is very easy to achieve with sylus (touchiest man award goes to him) for the first kiss to initiate

he's grabbing your waist, or your face, makings sure your eyes are on. him. as you two kiss. watching with delight no matter what reactions you have, he admires you through surprised and flustered to confident and defiant

rather than a tender first kiss it’s probably a full blown make out session, just desire and lust flooding out of the both of you after having built up for over a month.

assertive does not mean he's going to force a kiss on you to clear this up, more that he likes to take the initiative and take control as you two kiss <3

yeah he's into biting (wow what a big shock) - likes biting your ear, or neck, or bottom lip, one time he tried nipping at your tongue too.

you can bite him back, he likes it.

"Hah, looks like someone is baring their claws tonight..." he’s really into that whole cat thing huh.

what does mr sylus do with his hands? waist, hips, ass, around your neck, pulling your face in by squeezing your cheeks, fingers threading through the hair on the back of your head, you name it he does it. again, i think sylus is a touchy man.

he doesn't mind if you try to take control, just dont expect to be successful. different to zayne - as in he will overcome your control with his evol and strength…

inappropriate use of his evol has occurred (he ‘tied’ you up and made out with you (CONSENSUALLY))

after his affinity 15 (i think) memory i can just tell he’s freaky with it bruhhh so yeah handcuffs are probably something he indulges in

if you’re persistent or physically overcome sylus you might get rewarded with a resigned, more submissive sylus

the idea or sight of someone man handling/overcoming his strength really sets him off.. i mean have you seen “no defence zone”?? but you’re really going to need to work to get him to this stage, and he’s going to have to love you

“No one’s ever seen me like this, lying on my back and begging for you.”

secretly finds out through you that he enjoys being dominated (BRAT SYLUS FOR 2024) so climb on top of him and kiss him until he’s blushing and panting hahahahahaha

tldr: sylus isn’t a fuck-boy but he sure kisses like one

AN; as an ao3 writer may say, no beta we die like caleb i wrote half of this when i was half asleep LMAOO anyways i hope this was okay please dont attack me BYE

[darkcircles4lyfe]

I've given it some thought--

Now, if you've read any of my posts and you've read 430, you know there are a lot of ways it falls short of what I wanted. On the other hand, I can respect an open ending, one where we are allowed and encouraged to dream. All things considered, I'm not satisfied or disappointed, but a secret third thing... bear with me.

For a lot of storylines, I can fill in the blanks how I want.

I'm heartbroken over Himiko's fate, but there's no denying that the lack of camera footage leaves open the possibility of her simply disappearing. Perhaps she is waiting in hiding for the world to change, just like Lady Nagant.

Dr. Yoshida is described as someone who can cure the incurable. That may be referring to Katsuki, but the doctor himself said it's a complete mystery how he survived, all Katsuki's own doing. Maybe he cured someone else in those 8 years... someone like Touya?

Honestly I got nothing on Tenko but who knows. Who knows! Something something OFA connection. Izuku having vestige visions. Idk.

As for the manner in which society is changing, I'm drawn to Shouji's speech: "I'm dedicating the honor to those who joined the uprising eight years ago. All I've done is stand atop the resolve that they demonstrated to the world, nothing more." That at least tells me his earlier judgment of the other heteromorphs "setting them back" was a narrow point of view Shouji was supposed to grow out of, rather than a way of Horikoshi trying to criticize revolutionaries. In general, just because a character says something doesn't mean we're supposed to take it as gospel. That's lit crit 101, people.

Then there's Izuku. Once again I am feeling this pretty close to home. I keep coming back to the fact that the class is 24/25 now and I'm 25, man. On top of that, anyone else who was 14/15 ten years ago when the manga started gets to feel like we've all grown up together. I wanted catharsis for Izuku's trauma so badly. I wanted words. But I can't deny that the way Izuku is shown attempting to make the best of things and be content with a humbler life resonates with me, as painful as it is, as much as I know deep down he's kidding himself. It doesn't surprise me that he kept his walls up all this time and continued to shun his "selfishness."

I almost feel like there's an all-encompassing narrative theme being expressed here, in the fact that Izuku was trying to push past his pain and focus on the next generation, but surprise, his story's not over yet. I think the implied message there is that more can be done in the here and now, and maybe other stories that seem to be over, aren't.

With these things in mind, I can take the ending in stride, even if this is all the more we get from Horikoshi. However. There's one thing that is jolting me out of my peace every time I start to get comfortable here. It's actually related to the storyline that got the most closure.

I've seen a lot of fellow bkdk enjoyers calling their conclusion the best part of the ending, and I agree with that. They got a truly full circle moment, and a way of communicating to the reader that they're together, they have their forever, in a way that is personal to them. It's not "canon" in the way a kiss or a confession is, but I've said it before--this makes sense for them. And Horikoshi also did something legitimately interesting and groundbreaking by not making Ochako confess, not showing her future being tied to the main character as a love interest.

No, the thing that's bugging me is a seemingly small detail: why does Izuku and Katsuki holding hands at the end, of all things, have to be implied? Lots of things about 430 make sense in the context of the interview Horikoshi recently gave where he expressed being content with what he has drawn, and what he has left to the imagination. But not this. You can't convince me he didn't want to draw this. It's a motherfucking story about hands. This is the one thing I was 110% certain would happen. It's been teased for forever. Katsuki clearly wanted it so bad. So many other characters got to hold Izuku's hand in-frame. What the hell. Why.

Idk. I will be thinking about it for the foreseeable future.

[icyg4l]

PAC: Who Wants to Match Your Freak? (18+)

Inspired by the infamous ‘Nasty’ by Tinashe, this pick a pile is on the X-rated side (my first time doing this btw). We’re getting into the nitty gritty! But before we do, just know that it is important to use protection, no matter what your gender identity is! Now… let’s find out who wants to get nasty nasty nasty 🫦🫦🫦

Without further ado, please select your Tinashe still!

Pile 1-4: (Top Left-to-Bottom Right)

Pile One: This person is definitely into roleplay. They would like to teach you some things and learn some things from you inside of the bedroom. I feel like this is someone you wouldn’t see as a “freak”. This gives me the energy of Jhene Aiko. To you, they are very innocent but you have not seen that side of them yet. They wanna show you that they can hold their own. They want to meet you halfway. What I am getting here is the energy of a secret rendezvous. This may start off as something that is lowkey but ultimately, you could end up in a couple with this person due to their skills! You’ll want them all to yourself, Pile One. Now for the good stuff, lol. This person will definitely be into nibbling and sweet whisperings. If you are a woman that is into women, this person will definitely be on top. They like to be the star of the show. They could get a little greedy. I feel like the person who wants to match your freak does not want to rush the act with you. They want to take it slow; they may be into edging. They will be into stripteases and lapdances. They don’t really like to take risks in the bedroom, unless you’d be the one doing it. 

Cards Used: The High Priestess, 7 of Swords, The Star, 2 of Discs, 2 of Cups.

Pile Two: Ooo, this feels like a reminiscent energy. I feel like this is the energy of someone from the past. It could be an ex. It could be an old friend. It could be a former sexual partner. This partner is in love with you, lmao. I feel like this person could have drunk texted you recently or they have a history of doing so. They might do it again, lol. They want to spin the block really badly. They’d like to get you all alone after having a long conversation about the things that went down between you two. This person could have a really thick accent that you’re attractive to. This person is very suave, I can tell. For some of you, this person may be thinking of making you their third. This person could also be into watching you play with yourself. They are into your… fluids lol. This feels like a makeup session. This person misses you very badly and they would like to show you with their actions (and their tongue). It’s really up to you whether or not they will come back. 

Cards Used: 3 of Swords, Princess of Cups, The Magician, 3 of Cups, Ace of Cups.

Pile Three: I heard the word “impressive”. I think that this person is known for their bedroom skills. This could be a former sexual partner, but it doesn’t have to be. I will say that this person’s physical appearance is very attractive to all genders. They are universally attractive. This person is someone that feels like you have unfinished business with them. Maybe you’ve shared a kiss with them, but it didn’t go anywhere past that. Maybe you two have done nothing but text and chat on the phone. You may have even fallen off with this person. However, this person wants to know where the hell you’ve been. In the bedroom, they are into BDSM. They could also like to do things while under the influence, but it’s not necessary. They like to put their weight on their lovers. They are definitely dominant in the bedroom. Don’t be afraid to step in the bedroom with them. They can also last for a long time, so you will be depleted of all your energy once y’all are finished. They don’t bite, unless you want them to.

Cards Used: 6 of Cups, The Moon, 10 of Swords, 4 of Pentacles, Wheel of Fortune.

Pile Four: I feel like this is for my people who currently attend college. I feel like this is a classmate you’ve been eyeing. They have a nice style. They could be inspired by the mid 2000s Southern fashion trends. I think that this person has a breeding kink, tbh. They think you’re someone that they can take home to their mother. They are very into courting. They try to put on an image of appearing “good” or “neutral” to the public. Their reputation is very important to them. I feel like this person is well off. You are very tempting to this person. Honestly, this person might have a worship/praise kink as well. They may be slow to initiate the act. For some of you, this is a pillow princess. The vibe is similar to Pile One but the difference with this pile is that it’s all an act. This person could appear to be “boujee” or “aloof” but don’t knock it until you try it. There isn’t anything wrong with keeping it undercover. 

Cards Used: 10 of Cups, 6 of Discs, 4 of Swords, 9 of Discs, 10 of Discs, Knight of Discs. 

[zweiginator]

yes !! art feeling left out of the whole patrick-tashi and her roommate thing that he only found out about because patrick of course told him and he's so fucking jealous because he always had the biggest crush on reader ...

yes yes YES!

imagining patrick and tashi go out with art one day. art is crossing his fingers hoping you'll be there but you aren't. you had gone home for the weekend.

and he notices how weird tashi and patrick are acting. they're much more cuddly and happy-go-lucky. weird, because they normally are way more argumentative with each other, more hotheaded. not that they had a bad relationship--that was just them.

"you guys seem--happy." art says. they are at their favorite pizza place.

"all three of us won our matches, why wouldn't we be?" tashi looks confused; she takes a sip of her water.

"i mean like, generally. not that that's bad--just curious."

patrick shrugs. does this stupid little smirk that drives art mad. like he's trying to be coy but also wants to let you know that something big definitely happened.

so he and patrick do their tug-of-war. patrick lets on that he has news, art asks him to tell him. patrick says no, no, i can't. art ends up begging until patrick decides he will be a good friend and let him in on the secret.

he looks at tashi. who clearly doesn't want patrick to tell art, but she rolls her eyes and says go ahead.

"we've been--" patrick pauses. for dramatic effect or just to gather his thoughts--art doesn't know. "fooling around with y/n."

art's face drops. "like tashi's roommate?" he has so many questions. "what do you mean, fooling around? we?"

"i dunno." patrick shrugs. "she's inexperienced so we are showing her the ropes, i guess. not a big deal."

"so you're having-" art lowers his voice. "threesomes?"

"no. i wouldn't consider it a threesome at all."

patrick explains the dynamic. art shouldn't be asking about this, and realistically, they shouldn't be delving into all this with a third party--but they can't help it. they like the novelty of it all. how taboo it is. and patrick loves to one-up art. to peacock.

so art listens to how patrick ate your pussy. patrick goes into everything in such intricate detail. art almost shatters his glass when tashi and patrick explain how they taught her how to suck cock.

"jesus christ." is all art can say. it's not like it makes him respect you less, but he is jealous. he has been right there, a close friend of tashi and patrick's for years, close enough for you to grasp onto him--for years. and you choose patrick. a tale as old as time.

"you okay, artie?" tashi asks. she reaches over the table to touch art's hand.

patrick knows that look on art's face. that seething yet boyish anger that permeates his features. makes him look livid and like a dejected, abandoned little puppy all at once. patrick has only seen that look during situations when art is fucking infuriated. when they were little, it happened when art dropped his ice cream cone. then it became commonplace when art lost a tennis match. and from his adolescence and into early adulthood patrick had only seen it one time--when patrick went on a date with a girl he liked.

but that was a date. an innocuous date to a shitty movie. they never kissed and they never saw each other again. so this look was menacing, it had a bite to it.

but art felt stupid being upset. he had never told anyone about his crush; it felt easier that way, when he was inevitably let down. but patrick had everything--the tennis skills, the wealthy family, the pretty, perfect girlfriend that everyone on campus wanted. it felt like a fucking kick to the stomach to art that he got you too. and of course, to patrick, you were just another notch in his belt.

"fuck." patrick feels awful. he knows how art gets with crushes. idealizes them, let them suffocate his thoughts, self-sabotage, rinse, repeat. he rests his head in his hands. "dude, i didn't know. i'm sorry."

tashi interjects. "what am i missing?"

"art has a crush on her."

"why didn't you tell us we could've-"

art interrupts tashi. "well it's too late now.

"hear me out." nothing good patrick has ever said has started with those words. but art listens. "join us for a lesson."

"do you fucking hear yourself patrick?" art crumples a napkin, throws it on his plate. "i just told you i like this girl--who you're not even romantically involved in beyond corrupting her--and you're saying oh, i can share her with you. like, fuck off."

"will you just listen?"

"no, i won't." he gets up, fumbles with his car keys. "fuck you guys. all you do is think about yourselves. you have these weird fantasies of like, dominating everyone you know. all your relationships have an awkward fucking hierarchy. like, have you ever thought of just being normal? having normal relationships with people? whatever you're doing with her--isn't normal. it's fucking manipulative. and we all know that anything you guys can't manipulate isn't worth your fucking time. so i'll just leave now."

(angsty cliffhanger for dramatic effect)

[kissitbttr]

ANA! ANA MY LUV!! idk much about miguel (a travesty i knoeww) but i saw ur fratboy post n now i cant stop drooling at the idea of fratboy!miguel introducing u to his frat buddies!! being so possessive: holding ur waist or pulling u to his lap; kissing ur neck even when his friends are right there. oh my goddd im gonna sob hes so!!!

SUNNY?! I AM BITING MY FIST OMG HE’D SOOO FREAKING POSSESSIVE UGH I LOVE IT WHEN YOU ARE RIGHT

bby you HAVE to hop on the miguel simp train!! HE IS SO FINEEEE😩😩

-

it was around after the third date when miguel nervously asked you to come to the frat house to meet his brothers. he didn’t want to overwhelm you of course, he knew how annoying and pushy his brothers could be but still, he would love for them to get to know you just as he had when he was with you,

you saw how nervous he got, but you assured him by squeezing his hand and telling him that you were okay with that. he smiled in return, kissing you softly on the lips as a thank you,

“i never express any gratitude towards anyone in my life except my parents but i want to thank you so much for finally saying yes, it was fucking annoying to hear him yapping about you non-stop. all of us had enough of his corny shit”

one of his frat brothers, glen had mentioned. feigning a relief expression while he smirked at miguel who gave him the finger,

“i literally thanked Jesus when i heard him going on a date with you, y/n! you are our life savior”

miguel threw his head back in annoyance, groaning at how his frat brothers continued to spill his secrets. but you giggled instead, looking over at him who avoided your gaze out of pure embarrassment.

“what else did he do?”

miguel shot you a warning look, “don’t encourage them, muñeca! they’d go all the way out!”

“oh believe me, we have many” beck had answered, playfully snickering at the amount of times miguel had ranted about you. “which one do you want to hear? one where he talked about you while he was high? or one where it was late at night—“

“fuck off, kingsley!” miguel had interrupted before he got too far, in which beck put his hands up in defense.

miguel snaked his arm around your waist, giving your hip three taps to prompt you to sit on his lap which you obliged.

you happily plopped yourself down on one of his thick thighs. he helped you with shifting your body into a comfortable position with your legs crossed.

the rest of the boys sat in the living room, piling in the same area as they all stared at the two of you. millions of questions running through their minds, desperate to know if miguel somehow blackmailed you into agreeing to go out on a date with him or something worse,

miguel sensed the stares from his brothers and, to be frank, it was quite uncomfortable. though he knew for sure they wanted to know the same thing.

“are you guys wondering how i got to take her out or what?”

they all responded with a ‘yes’ in unison, making him rub his temple and you smiled

“so? what did he do, y/n? because i’m starting to think this is a joke”

“could be. i mean, carlos went all 110% for a girl when she rejected his offer the first time” glen shrugged, earning a frown from carlos himself,

“i did not—“

“yes you did. you stood outside of the campus library with a boombox over your head” one boy chimed in while sipping his beer,

“okay see, i was—“

“oh! and remember when he threatened to pull his—“

“shut the fuck up! focus! we’re not here for me but for them!” carlos gestured his hand at both miguel and you. “can we leave my shit behind? that would be great”

carlos's cheeks went beet red as the other guys teased him for it, beck patted him on the back and told him that it was nothing to be ashamed of but carlos only swatted his hand away,

you found it so endearing at how the frat guys were so playful and funny with each other. typical boys will be boys type of thing. they were definitely far more different than when you see them during parties,

“well to be honest, he really didn’t have to do anything” you simply replied, tucking a hair behind your ear. “but definitely persistent, in the most politest way and less creepier though”

“you saying what i did was creepy?” carlos pointed at himself with a defeated look,

“i mean, if you had to ask then yeah”

the rest erupted in a peal of loud laughter while carlos’s shoulders slouched. propping his back against the chair with his arms crossed, a chorus of ‘see?’ and ‘i told you so’s’ made you laugh,

miguel settled his elbow on the armrest, eyes glinted with adoration whilst his mouth stretched into a lovesick grin. he watched how you managed to pull joy out of them and there’s nothing he’s appreciated more than that,

the way you threw your head back as another cute giggle escaped you while holding onto his shoulder for balance was enough to make his heart ponder,

“man, you’ve got wicked sense of humor, y/n—say if shit went sideways between the two of you, just know I’m available”

miguel frowned upon hearing that as his nose scrunched up in disgust as he leapt the nearest pillow at his brother’s direction for that comment. he wrapped his arm around your waist far more protectively,

“watch it” he warned, glaring at him. he knew it was a joke but he still didn’t like how that sounded, “i’ll kick your fucking ass, monty”

upon seeing that, your hand moved to find his cheek, lightly tapping his chin with your finger to get him to look at you,

“easy there, big boy” your words soothed him in seconds, especially when he heard his favorite nickname leaving your mouth, "I'm with you"

the confirmation made him giddy and his heart blossomed,

he moved dangerously close to your ear to whisper before kissing the back of it making you giggle. “you look so pretty tonight, muñeca” miguel dragged his fingertips up and down your exposed thigh, then squeezed the soft flesh. “so so pretty— do i get to see you in this dress more often?”

the question came off too excited despite his best trying to hide it, again, if there was nobody around, he'd actually take you right there and then.

you smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck. “but I thought you like me better when i’m naked?”

“oh there’s no doubt about that, mi amor” he winked with a chuckle, “am i… about to get lucky tonight?”

“you might” a seductive response laced on your tone, winking at him as he squeezed your waist before

the boys let out a couple of groans and fake puking sounds at the sight, but the two of you remained still in your element,

''you guys make me sick" glen protested, shaking his head before getting up from the chair to walk away but you caught a small smile on his face,

"jealous you don't have a girlfriend, mayback?" miguel teased at him, glen only threw him the middle finger before cracking another can of beer from the kitchen,

the rest of the boys followed his actions after, not before congratulating miguel on scoring with you.

the word girlfriend made you bulldozed, eyes darted toward his smiling proud face before yours stretched into one as well,

"i'm your girlfriend?"

his smile faltered after he soon realized what he had just called you, he swallowed a nervous gulp. opening and closing his mouth because he was unsure what to say

you must admit you enjoyed seeing him like that.

"well i-i mean--i wasn't--surely you were--uh--what was the question again?"

you tucked your lower lip in between your teeth, head tilting to the side as the adorable man in front of you became a stuttering mess.

realizing that he is on the edge of a nervous breakdown, you leaned closer to his face before smashing your lips against his. his body went still by your action, but soon found himself lost in your kiss and sighed out of contentment,

you pulled away after a few seconds, tousling his soft chocolate hair before replying,

''i would love to be your girl, o'hara''

-

please please PLEASE tell me this is good!! i was writing this in the car and I couldn’t concentrate for a second because people were honking too much!! bhhshshs

[bellarkeselection]

Our Little Kenobi

Request from @starvingbrokestudent Can you do a super sweet pregnancy fic with Obi Wan? Like the reader finds out she’s pregnant after fertility issues and Obi Wan is just so excited?! And how they try to keep it a secret from the council and eventually she has a baby boy?

This will be a mini series like you asked 😁

Rushing to the bathroom I didn't even get the chance to remove my lightsaber and my robe from my body because the sickness was coming on so quickly. Holding onto the toilet I puked what I had ate in my stomach feeling out of breath afterwards. This wasn’t the first time this had happened and it was the third time I had gotten sick. Wiping my hand across my mouth I gagged on the taste leaving the bathroom once I had finished. Finding my communicator out of my robe pocket I thought of the first person I could call who wouldn’t ask too many questions. “Padme, can you come to my room please?”

“Of course. Do you need anything specific?” She asked me appearing as a blue hologram.

Running my fingers through my hair with my freehand I whispered under my breath almost like somebody else was listening on the other side of the door. “Could you uh…could you bring me a pregnancy test. I can’t have the medical droids look I into this. They can’t keep a secret if there is something going on.”

“Sure, I’ll be right over.” She hung up the call making me more nervous just waiting for her to come over.

Pacing back and forth across the floor frantically trying to calm my nerves but it wasn’t working. This couldn't be happening to me. I was a Jedi knight and a leader of one of the clone armies. There was a war going on all on top of it. I heard three knocks on the door before I opened the door quickly. “Come in, Padme.”

“Here it is. Why exactly did you need one?” She asked and I knew that she would after she told me about her and Anakin sneaking around.

Taking it from her hands I went into the bathroom quickly doing the test since the waiting was killing me. Sitting on the toilet I just stared at the test in my hands thinking that my life was now screwed. “Padme, I'm going to be forced out of the order.” I croaked through tears feeling her presence in the doorway of the bathroom just watching me.

“I thought Jedi were encouraged to love. That's what Anakin told me.” She responded.

Lifting my head up I felt tears building up. “But you're sneaking around aren't you. It's exactly what me and Obi-Wan are doing…stars he's going to be upset over this.”

“Maybe he will want the baby.’ She tried being hopeful. “Wait a second I should be asking do you want it first?”

Dropping my gaze to the ground floor silence filled the entire room at that point. I didn't know how to answer her question. Being a member of the Jedi order meant that things like love, marriage, and children were out the window. Gripping my hair in my fingers I screamed dropping the pregnancy test on the floor at my feet. “I don't think I can do this, Padme. I can't…I'm not prepared to be a mother. I barely even remember my own parents after the council found me. And then there's Obi Wan…he…I have no clue what he will feel.”

“Have you ever talked about the possibility of having kids with him if you weren’t Jedi knights?” Padme came into the bathroom and sat down beside me on the floor.

Burying my face into my knees I croaked. “We took an oath, Padme. No marriage, no children, no possibilities of going to the Dark Side.”

“I’m sorry Y/n. But I am here for you and whatever you decide to do.” She placed a hand on my shoulder and we both just sat in silence with me thinking back to that night between Obi wan and I.

Opening the door, he walked towards the bed and dropped me down to the bed. My back hit the soft silk sheets before I rose up from the bed staring at him softly and brought a hand to his cheek stroking it softly. He leaned into my touch and brought my fingers to his lips, kissing them softly for a moment before releasing them. Standing tall, he lifted his shirt over his head and threw it to the ground. My heart began to beat for a second as I stared at him, my eyes directed down to his muscular chest, and blushed at the sight.

I averted my eyes with my hands covering them quickly and tried to contain my blush, he looked up at me and smirked at my reaction. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, Y/n. You can look if you want to.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do…have you ever done this before.” I pointed out to him where I peeked through my fingers for a split second.

My hands started to trace his form, I began to run his fingers up and down his muscular chest softly while I began to feel his hand start to crawl underneath my shirt. He yanked my shirt off my head, throwing it to the ground only once breaking the kiss until I was not able to not joke with him at least once. “Woah….you look just wow.”

He glanced down at my clothed beasts staring at them deeply before reaching behind my back and began to unclip the straps off and tear it off me in a split second. I gasped at him instantly reaching a hand to cover my breast, he let out a growl at them pushing my hands away. “ Don’t hide from me, my darling. You are perfect.”

He hovered over me and brought his lips down upon mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck and embraced more into the kiss. I felt a hard rock positioned at my lower religion, he placed his member at my center and looked up at me. “My love, this may hurt for a few minutes, I promise I'll go slowly. We can do this together, the both of us. Since….I haven’t done this before either. Are you sure you want this, I'll stop if you're not ready.”

“I want you. I want you, Obi.“ I said, gripping the bed sheets in my fingers, never moving my gaze from his. “ Please just go gently.”

Obi wan nodded his head slowly brushing some hair out of my face just admiring my face in the small light that was provided by the bedside lamp. “I want you just as much as you want me.”

Within moments I felt the pain suddenly vanish and began to feel pleasure. I began to move against him and leaned up pressing my lips down upon his. He embraced me back instantly when my fingers dug into his back. And that was the most enjoyable night of our lives.

I decided after a few days later to finally tell him what was happening. He deserved to know the situation so that we could figure out what to do next together. Standing out of his door I sucked in a shaky breath raising my fist and knocking three times on his door where it opened slowly for him to greet me. “Y/n, what can I do for you?”

“We need to talk…alone. If you have some time before our council meeting.” I almost whispered under my breath before he allowed me to come inside.

He shut the door behind himself, raising a brow. “What is going on, darling?”

“Did you remember the night we shared together? Well something I thought wouldn’t happen ended up actually happening.” Fiddling with my fingers in front of me I lowered my gaze to the ground trying to not show how terrified I was.

Obi wan was a much sharper Jedi then I thought I was though when he takes a few steps towards me. “Y/n, if something is making you nervous you can tell me. You know that right. So what is bothering you?”

“Obi, please don’t be upset. I already don’t know what I am going to do with the result. I can’t handle it if you rat me out and abandon me.” I lifted my head showing him my face was turning red with heavy tears coming down my cheeks.

Obi touched my shoulders, shifting his blue orbs down to my eyes. “Darling, please tell me what is wrong. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”

“I….I’m pregnant.” I croaked out lowering my head into his chest sobbing. “I’m pregnant with your child.”

The Jedi master froze for a moment so unsure of what to say. He was in the same position as yourself. He knew that the council wouldn’t allow you to remain in the temple. Yet he slowly wrapped his arms around my waist holding me gently letting silence fill the room until he finally separated the hug. “I’m not going to leave you, Y/n.”

“Wait what…are you being serious?” I sniffed clinging onto the fabric of his brown cloak for strength and his arms were still around my waist holding me close to his embrace.

He moved one hand to cradle the side of my face feeling me lean into his palm when he replied longingly. “I said I won’t leave you because you're pregnant. I know the risks that it means for us. But I’d be the biggest idiot if I left you over something we both consented too.”

“You have no idea how much of a relief that is to hear you say that, Obi wan.” I chuckled through tears with such relief off my shoulders as I fling my arms around his neck hugging him tightly but gently.

He tightened his grip around my waist, burying his face into my loose hair. His heart skipped a beat at the realization that he would be a father, he was terrified since he didn’t remember his own much. Yet there was more joy in his mind than fear. “I have been considering this for a long time. I guess you finally gave me the courage to do so…”

“What are you talking about…omg.” I gasped covering my mouth watching him lower himself down on one knee directly before me.

He revealed a tiny black box from inside his brown robe, opening it showing me a simple silver ring that had three jewels in the middle of it. His bright blue eyes poured up into mine. “Y/n, I love you. I know that we are told not to get attached to one another but I couldn’t help it. You are everything that I never knew I wanted until we started spending time together. This baby doesn’t want me to run away from all of that. It makes me want to stay by your side even more. So will you marry me?”

“Oh Obi Wan….yes.” I giggled letting him slide the ring on my finger getting to his feet. He cupped my face in his hands kissing me for the first time in a few days. I leaned up on my toes kissing him back.

Comments really appreciated ❤️ Tag list - @iifloweringnightsii

[iridecsense]

 Lip Smacker - m.

⤷ summary: in which izuku, katsuki, and shouto make a bet about what flavor chapstick you wear.

word count: 4.8k   pairing: tdbkdk | fem!reader   warnings: none ♡   genre: crack, smut | lime author’s note: This is a COLLEGE AU, meaning all characters are aged up to 18+ consenting adults—more specifically all characters are in their 20s.

If there was one thing about you that everyone knew, it was that you were not one to shy away from PDA with anyone. And by anyone, that means anyone. It was no secret you were overly-affectionate, especially with your friends. It wasn't a bad thing, just a little jarring at times. 

You were a big cuddler. It was absolutely normal to embrace one of your friends and hold them hostage on the common room couch. It was practically routine. Holding hands was another habit of yours. You hated walking to class alone, and whoever you convinced to go with you would have your hand tightly wrapped around theirs the entire time.

There were other ticks too, like how you’d sit on the nearest person’s lap even if there was space for you elsewhere, or when you essentially tackle your friends into a hug when you got too excited, which was surprisingly quite often. It’s just how you were, and your friends had long since accepted that. 

There was one thing, however, that a certain group of testosterone-heavy someones couldn't wrap their heads around. As harmless and simple as it may have seemed to you, it really stirred up tensions with your guy friends. Out of all your little ticks, there was one tick you loved to do the most, and that was kiss.

It wasn’t a sexual thing. In fact it was far from it. You kissed everyone, including your girl friends. Truthfully, you kissed your girl friends more often than your guy friends, but it didn't change the fact that you kissed a lot. Like... a lot. So much so that the guys of your dorm have a bit of a competition around it. 

You see, you were a very pretty girl. You were sweet and kind, and adorable, and all the things guys fawn over in a spritely young woman such as yourself. Having someone like you around the dorms was a blessing for them. A pretty girl who isn’t afraid of some platonic touching with the opposite sex? What an absolute win!

“I’m telling you guys, y/n totally wants me!” Denki burst into the common room.

“Did you take the stairs? Why are you sweating?” Mina asked, turning around on the couch to face him.

“Yeah, the elevator was too slow,” he huffed, throwing his bag on the floor and jumping onto an empty chair.

Jirou scrunched her nose. “We live on the third floor why are you sweating that much?” 

“Oh my GOD, did you guys not hear what I said?” Denki groaned, changing the subject. “y/n wants me! She wants my plug in her outlet, and she wants me to stick it in and out all night long!” 

The room erupted into a sea of disgusted groans. A rogue pillow found itself impacted in Denki’s face, courtesy of Mina. 

“Ew, dude?!” Jirou cringed. 

Kirishima shook his head disapprovingly. “Come on, man. Not cool.” 

“That’s just gross,” said Sero.

“Trust me, the last thing y/n wants is any of...” Mina gestured to Denki. “that.”

“I know I am going to regret asking you this, but what happened to make you think that she wants you.” Kirishima curiously asked. 

Denki smiled and excitedly made his way to sit on the open seat between Mina and Kirishima. 

“I was walking back from class, right? And I saw y/n walking to class on her own. So, I ran up and offered to walk with her there. She smiles all big, bats her eyes and goes ‘Oh Denki, thank you so much! I’m so happy you’re here! Why don’t you just take me already, oh-hoo-hoo-hoo~!’”

Jirou rolled her eyes. “She did not say that.” 

“She might as well have!” He countered rather defensively. “Anyway, she takes my hand and––dude, she’s so close to me I can smell her shampoo—she's brushing against my arm, laughing at all my jokes; and when we get to the science building she’s all big-eyes and pouty lips, ‘Thank’s again Denki, you are such a good friend,’ and then, boom! She lays one on me, right here!” He points to his left cheek where there was a faint pink glossy mark. 

“Oh, so like, what she’s like with literally everyone else,” Sero bleats. 

“Nah man, you weren't there, you didn’t see the way she looked at me! Those were fuck me eyes, I’m telling you.”

Jirou suddenly stood from her seat in the lounge chair. “Seriously, guys? If you’re gonna keep talking about y/n like that, I’m leaving. You guys are gross. Animals.”

“Yeah, I’m out too.” Mina followed Jirou to their room leaving the boys to themselves.

“I don’t know what they’re so mad about. They get to room with her. If I got to share a room with y/n I'd be the happiest man on earth,” Denki swoons.

“Yeah because you’d be the last man on earth, dipshit,” Sero snickers, causing the others to laugh. 

Denki’s cheeks turn red. “Whatever! You guys are just jealous because y/n likes me the most.”

“What, because she kissed you once on the cheek? Please, she’s kissed me at least three times,” Sero not-so-humbly brags.

Denki shoots up from his seat. “No way!”

“Yeah, and even then, it’s obvious who her favorites are, and—newsflash—it's not you or me.”

Just as Sero was picking apart the last bricks of hope Denki had left, the elevator dinged, revealing the other occupants of the floor. 

Kirishima smiled. “Sero’s right. Your little science building peck ain’t got nothing on whatever the fuck those three got going on with her.” He gestured to the three boys who leisurely walked in.

“What are you guys talking about?” Izuku asked as he stepped from the elevator with Katsuki and Shouto following behind. 

“We were just trying to see which one of us is y/n kisses the most to figure out who her favorite among the guys is,” Sero answered.

Katsuki sucked his teeth, his already permanent frown deepening. “Do you idiots really have nothing better to talk about?”

“It’s easy for you to not care when she’s all over you 24/7,” Denki pouts. “‘Katsuki can you open this for me please? Katsuki can you walk with me to psych? Katsuki can I lay on your lap while you play overwatch?’” Denki offensively mimics the sound of your voice. 

The common room erupted into snickers, turning the hot-headed blond’s neck red. “Watch it, dumbass,” he warns.

“Well, if you’re really that curious, I believe it's me,” said Shouto confidently, earning everyones attention. 

Katsuki’s brow twitched. “Oh, yeah? What makes you think that Icy-hot?”

“I can think of many occasions when y/n has kissed me and most of them were on the mouth. I think that would make me the favorite,” he stated as if it were fact.

It was this revelation that captured the attention of everyone in the room with great surprise. 

“You’ve kissed y/n on the mouth multiple times?” Sero gawked.

“She kissed me,” he clarified cooly.

“No way Shouto kissed y/n on the mouth before me!” Cried Denki dramatically, causing Shoji to comfort him. “That sneaky bastard preyed on our sweet, innocent girl and took advantage of her!” 

“I told you, she kissed me,” Shouto reiterated once more, becoming increasingly irritated.

Kirishima gave a heavy-handed pat to his back. “Congratulations, dude! I didn’t know you had it in you,” he smiled encouragingly.

Katsuki scoffed and crossed his arms. “So what? y/n’s kissed me on the lips too, and some of them weren't just innocent pecks neither.”

A strangled cry muffled by Shoji’s chest escaped Denki’s lips. 

“Guys should we really be talking about this?” Izuku shifted nervously. 

“Don’t go acting all high and mighty, Deku!” Yelled Katsuki. “I saw you and y/n kissing at the culture festival last month!”

“Stalk much?” Sero muttered snarkily under his breath.  Izuku’s cheeks went red and a coy smile spread across his lips. “Well...”

Denki broke free from Shoji’s strong arms and rushed towards Izuku, taking him by the collar. His reddened cheeks were stained with tears and nostrils flared. “Is this true Midoriya? Please, tell me it isn't true!”

“It is,” Izuku admitted, completely flustered and somewhat scared of his passionate, but clearly deranged friend. 

Denki fell to his knees. “You have to tell me what it was like! Was there tongue? How soft were her lips? What did she taste like? Tell me, I need to know!”

“This is getting sad,” Kirishima frowned, genuinely concerned, and Sero nodded in agreement. 

“I-I don’t know,” Izuku stuttered. “It was nice, I guess...” His mind went back to the day she kissed him at the festival by the taiyaki booth, and all the other times she’d placed her lips on his. He smiled softly. “Her chapstick tastes like watermelon.”

Denki smiled. “Watermelon,” he hummed. “Why didn't I think of that, that’s perfect for her! Fresh and sweet, just like her!”

“It’s not watermelon, idiot,” Katsuki spoke up. “It’s vanilla. It's always been vanilla.”

Izuku furrowed his brows. “Vanilla?” 

“Now that I think about it vanilla does suit her style better,” Denki muttered to himself. “I think Bakugou might be right on this one!”

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s watermelon,” Izuku asserted. 

“Strawberry.”

Everyone turned to Shouto, who all of the sudden looked very serious. “Her chapstick is strawberry flavored.”

The three boys locked eyes in an intense stare-off. Kirishima and Sero shared a look and identical smirks, hatching the same idea. 

“Why don’t we make this interesting,” Sero cut in, his mischievous grin glinting. “Why don't we make it a bet? Watermelon vs. Vanilla vs. Strawberry. Whoever is right can claim that they’ve kissed y/n the most, and therefore is her favorite.”

“I’ll take that bet,” says Izuku confidently. 

Katsuki scoffed. “You seem pretty confident for a jackass that’s about to lose!” 

“The same could be said about you too, Bakugou” Shouto quipped, poking the blond’s already short-temper. 

While the three fought, the rest of the boys that still littered the room placed their educated bets, spreading the word to the others in a group chat. Soon all of class 1-A and some of class 1-B had placed their bets on what flavor chapstick you wore. 

All of this, of course, was unbeknownst to you as you were conveniently left out of the betting chat, along with Mina and Jirou as were your closest friends and would undoubtedly blab to you about the whole thing. You had to be kept in the dark, which made the events of the following week rather...interesting.

It started the next day, after bets had been placed and the tension between Shouto, Katsuki, and Izuku manifested in their sudden desperate efforts to cater to your every need. You didn't suspect anything at first. You’d just assumed that the boys were being kind. 

You woke up early, two hours earlier than when you needed to be up in preparation for your first class. It was sunrise and despite you still being tired, you couldn't fall back asleep no matter how hard you tried. Giving up, you slipped from your bed and into your robe and slippers. Groggily, you made your way to the kitchen to make yourself a mug of coffee to sip on while you watched TV in the common room until you decided to start your day. 

It was there that you ran into Shouto, standing in his pajamas over a hot stove cooking a fried egg. His back was turned to you and you debated announcing your presence. However, you should have known the son of the number one hero was always incredibly keen on his surroundings. 

“Would you like some?” His question hung in the air, waiting for you to catch it.

“You don’t have to,” you sputter, suddenly flustered. “It looks like you’re almost done. I was just getting some coffee.” You said as you stood at the kitchen island. 

Without saying a word, he grabbed the bowl full of fried rice at his side and slid the fried egg on top, drizzling a demi-glace sauce on top before turning around and placing it in front of you. He took your mug from your hands and replaced it with a spoon. You watched him, almost starry-eyed, as he placed your mug under the coffee machine and pressed the button to make it brew with coffee. He said nothing, and made himself another bowl. 

You smiled softly and took a seat on a stool at the island, deciding to watch him cook instead of another episode of Too Hot To Handle. 

“Thank you, Shouto,” you said as you scooped a spoon full of rice into your mouth. You hummed in delight. 

Shouto’s lips twitched into a barely-noticeable smile, not that you could notice it with his back facing you. “Do you like it?” He asked. 

“I love it!” You praise. “I didn’t know you could cook so well!”

Shouto did the same as he did before, taking his bowl of fried rice and covering it with a hot egg and demi-glace sauce. He found himself a spoon and walked over to the coffee machine, which had filled your mug with hot, black coffee. He grabbed it too, and came over to take a seat at your side. Reaching his long arms to the center of the isle he brought closer the sugar and creamer for your brew. You thanked him again. 

“My sister Fuyumi is the better cook,” he told you. “She taught me how to make a few things for myself while I am away at university. Quick, simple meals, like rice and ramen. Nothing special.”

“Thank goodness for your sister then,” you said. “Maybe I should wake up this early everyday so I can steal more of your delicious breakfast, simple or not.”

You giggled to yourself and took another bite. Shouto watched you from the corner of his eye. He’d never seen you like this, in the morning with a fresh face and your hair tied back, dressed in your pajamas and a robe that hung loosely off one shoulder. 

It is in moments like these, when Shouto finds himself alone with you that he is reminded of your magnetic attraction. Even he could not resist it, the thing about you that cast a spell upon all those you meet, rendering them your adoring subjects. He ate silently beside you, only occasionally engaging in small talk when you incited it. When you had finished, he reached for your empty bowl, prepared to clear it for you, but your hand gripped his wrist. You stood from your stool. 

“The least I can do is clean the dishes. You should go. I know you’re only up this early to train before class.”

Though it was your hand that encased his left wrist, it was he that felt burnt by your touch. You took the bowl from his hand and collected his from the isle counter to wash, but not before you stood on the tips of your toes to plant a soft peck to his lips on your way to the sink. It was sweet, innocent even, perhaps only lingering a half-a-second longer than it should’ve. But unlike the many previous kisses you’ve shared before, he licked his lips and could not help the smirk that appeared in response to the taste of candied strawberries that lingered on his tongue. 

“I was right,” he muttered to himself. 

You raised an eyebrow. “Right about what?” 

Shouto cleared his throat, his cheeks tinted pink. You’d never seen him do that before.  

“I mean, you were right,” he corrected himself.  “I should go. I’ll see you later, y/n.”

You nodded your head. “Oh, alright. See you later!” You called after him as he left to return to his room. 

The rest of the day went on rather normally. You had gotten ready and got to class on time (something that was rare) feeling particularly spritely and energized. You assumed it had something to do with having an actual breakfast instead of a singular mug of coffee. You reminded yourself to thank him properly the next time you saw him. 

Around lunchtime was when you encountered Katsuki. You had just gotten yourself lunch from one of the dining halls to eat at one of your favorite spots outside. It was a particularly nice day, especially for the dead of winter, so you decided to not let it go to waste. On your way there you saw a familiar mess of blond hair ahead of you. 

“Katsuki!” You yelled excitedly, quickening your pace to catch up to him.

His shoulders tensed and he stopped in his tracks, craning his neck to look behind him and expected to find someone annoying headed his way. He relaxed only a little when he saw it was you. Still someone annoying, but a lot less annoying than all of the people he knew. Once you reached him you gave a bright grin. The sun shone down on you, igniting the highlights of your hair and the color in your eyes, imitating an almost heavenly glow; the kind that even he couldn't deny made you look perfect. It was one of the many things about you that pissed him off. 

“Where ya goin’?” You asked in an almost sing-song voice. 

“Back to the room to take a nap, why?” He grumbled.

You held up your plastic bag of food. “Want to have lunch with me? I have extra.”

“No.” He said simply and began walking towards the dorm. 

You pouted, a small whine came from your chest and you chased after him. “Please, Katsuki?” You begged. “I don’t want to eat alone today. Besides, who else is going to help me eat all this spicy pork curry?”

He sighed, once again stopping his journey to his comfortable bed that had been calling his name since his 8 AM class. You smiled triumphantly, knowing you had won. He looked down at your heavy plastic bag full of what he now knows is spicy pork curry and other side dishes. Sucking his teeth he grabbed the food from your hand. “You’re lucky I’m fucking starving. Why buy so much if you weren't going to eat all of it?” 

He nagged you all the way to the campus arboretum, where you had a special place among the grass and trees you liked to sit and eat at. He was only giving you a hard time because it kept him from thinking about how pretty you looked in your dress, or how cute you had sounded begging him to come eat with you. He didn't want to think about how your arm often bumped his because you had an awkward, lop-sided gait, or about the smell of your perfume. All he wanted to do was get to your picnic spot and eat. So he did. 

The two of you ate together on a blanket you had brought. You’d gotten on the topic of final exams which turned into a shit-talking fest about who you both felt in your class would pass and who would fail. He found it very easy to talk to you and you never made him feel bad about the things he said, unlike most people who spend most of their energy scolding him instead of just talking. Not you though. You always let him talk. 

It was when he said something that made you laugh that you accidentally spilled your soda on your dress. You cursed and fumbled for napkins to dab it clean, but the stain was evident. 

“Dammit!” You groaned. “I have class in fifteen minutes I don't have time to change.”

You were so busy cleaning your mess, it wasn't until you felt the weight of Katsuki’s thick hoodie plop over your head that you knew he had even taken it off. You snorted a chuckle and pulled your head threw the neck hole to see him left in his black compression shirt. 

“Take it dumbass,” he told you. 

“You won’t be cold?” You asked. 

“I’m done for the day. Just bring it to my room later.” He said. 

You smiled and pushed your arms through the sleeves, pulling the oversized hoodie over you to cover the stain. It was...toasty, you think is the correct word, and it smelled like his cologne. You closed your eyes and held the fabric to your nose, inhaling his scent deeply. Katsuki furrowed his brows as he watched you.

“It smells so good!” You practically moan. “And it’s so warm. It’s like I’m getting the best hug in the world. A Kaachan hug!” You teased, snickering to yourself. 

Katsuki’s face grew hot, and he pinched your cheek, tugging with his fingers, making you yelp and whine from the minuscule pain. “Who told you to call me that, huh? Can’t you just say thank you like a normal person? I can take my hoodie back and let you walk around with a shitty stain on your dress.”

Your hand gripped his arm, attempting to pry him off. “Okay, okay!” You yell, half laughing, half hissing in pain. “I’m sorry! Thank you!”

Satisfied he let your cheek go, and you soothed the spot by rubbing it in circles with your hand. You pouted while he cleaned the blanket of your mess and threw the trash away while you folded it back up. He decided to walk you to class since he had nothing better to do and he knew you wanted him to (certainly not because he wanted to). When you made it to the entrance of your building you stopped and turned towards him. 

“Thanks for walking me and for the hoodie,” you smiled. “I’ll see you back in the dorms.”

You started to turn around when you felt his hand wrap around your arm, keeping you in place. Confused, you stood still. You might have been imagining things, but from where you stood, it looked as though his cheeks were flushed red. 

“What’s wrong, Katsuki?” You asked, concerned. 

“Don’t I...get a kiss?” He couldn't believe what he was saying. 

“A kiss?” You repeated, also not believing what he was saying.

“As a thank you,” he explained.

Your lips twitched into a teasing smile. “I thought you didn't like it when I did that in public.”

“When has that ever stopped you before!” He countered, his cheeks growing redder. 

You laughed and took a step closer, closing the gap between you. You craned your neck up to place a chaste kiss on the corner of his lips. Unsatisfied, Katsuki sucked his teeth and reached his hand up to your chin, turning your head in a position for him to press his lips against yours, and kissed you. It was unexpected, but after a few seconds, the shock drifted away, and you closed your eyes, returning the kiss. It was longer than the kiss you shared with Shouto earlier that day, but not by much; and once it was over, he licked his lips. 

‘Vanilla...’ He thought as he pulled away. 

His hand fell from your chin and he sighed. “Hurry before you’re late,” was all he said before turning around and walking back towards the dorm, leaving you in a post-kiss daze. 

You made it to your class, albeit, late because your mind kept trying to make sense of the kiss that you’d accidentally passed the door to your classroom...twice. Of course, you had kissed Katsuki before. Kissing him on the lips wasn't necessarily a rare occurrence either. But never had he incited a kiss on his own—and in public? Well, that wasn't even in the realm of possibility before. No matter how many times you tried to convince yourself it wasn't strange, you couldn't help but feel suspicious. 

As you dissociated from your lecture your brain kept replaying the kiss, searching for a reason to why the kiss felt different. No, it didn't feel different. It felt strange. But it only felt strange because something about it felt familiar. It shouldn't have felt familiar. If a guy initiates a kiss with you for the first time it shouldn't feel familiar. Why did it feel familiar? 

And then it hit you. He licked his lips. 

He licked his lips!

Your brain switched to your kiss with Shouto earlier in the day. After you kissed him he had licked his lips too. You thought it was weird then, but didn't think twice about it. Now you were thinking twice.

‘I’m just being crazy,’ you thought. 

In what way could the kisses be related? What? Because they both happened to lick their lips afterwards? So what? That didn’t mean anything. It meant nothing. You were sure of it... 

Almost. 

You shook the thoughts from your head, refocusing your attention back to your professor at the front of the room. After class, you made your way back to the dorms to get started on your studies while Mina and Jiro were out. The sun had long since set, and you were two hours deep in frustration preparing for your Hero Physics midterm when a knock came from the door. 

You welcomed the distraction, considering you were about to re-read the same question for the fifth time with no progress of understanding it anytime soon, and if you read it again without a miraculous conclusion, you were going to bash your brains in with your laptop.

Needless to say, when you opened the door to see Izuku standing in the hall, you welcomed him with open arms. 

“Hey!” You smiled. 

Izuku looked you up and down. You were still wearing Katsuki’s hoodie, but you had switched out your dress for pajama pants and fuzzy socks. It was subtle, practically unnoticeable, but the slightest crease formed in-between his eyebrows when he noticed. 

“Is that Kaachan’s hoodie?” He asked. 

You looked down at your torso, as if you had forgotten you were wearing anything at all. “Oh, yeah,” you said. “I spilled soda all over my dress earlier while I was with him and he let me borrow it. Honestly, I’m thinking about keeping it at this point. I was supposed to return it as soon as I got back but it’s freezing in here because the thermostat is stuck at sixty-nine degrees and this hoodie is so much warmer than any of mine.”

“You should really call maintenance to fix that.” He brushed past you, entering your room and plopping his backpack on the floor by your desk. You closed the door behind him and crossed your arms.

“What's this?” He asked, picking up your notebook. 

“My suicide note.”

Izuku chuckled, looking over your notes and at the assignment on your computer. “I took Hero Physics last semester,” he told you. “I can help you if you want.” 

“If you want to dedicate your time to a hopeless cause, be my guest.”

And he did. He took a seat next to you at your desk and spent the next hour tutoring you on Hero Physics by walking you through questions like ‘Find the velocity of this speed-type hero’ and what-not. Surprisingly, it wasn't long into your session that you began to understand the words on your screen. You didn't suddenly become Einstein or anything, but at some point you started to work your way through them on your own with few mistakes. The assignment you had spent two hours slowly killing yourself over was completed in one with the help of your freckled friend. 

“I think you’re aiming for the wrong profession, Izuku,” you tell him. “Schools need more teachers.”

“Then schools should pay them more.”

You tried to snort back your laughter, ultimately failing, causing  Izuku to laugh along with you. 

“Want a drink?” You asked, standing to your feet. 

“Sure.” He nodded. You left him at your desk and came back with two Arizona teas from your mini fridge to share with him. 

“You never mentioned why you stopped by unannounced,” you said as you took a sip. “Not that you’re ever unwelcome.”

“Oh,” he smiled. “I guess I just wanted to see you.”

You looked down at your hands wrapped around the can, unable to meet his eyes. Izuku always managed to make you blush. You weren't sure if he meant to or not. Either way, he was completely oblivious to the effect he had on you. 

“Well thank you. It’s always nice to see you.”

Similarly, Izuku blushed as well, his cheeks turning pale red. His eyes shifted to the clock on your desk. “I should probably go,” he said, not really wanting to go. “It’s getting late.”

“Oh, right.” You both stood to your feet and Izuku gathered his things. You walked him to the door, leisurely leaning against the doorframe as he exited into the hall. “Think you can keep tutoring me?”

Izuku turned around. 

“I still need to pass finals,” you said. 

He nodded. “Then I'll make sure you pass finals.”

Grinning, you closed the space between you, mindlessly reaching to place a kiss on his cheek when you were reminded of the other kisses you'd shared with Shouto and Katsuki. A thought in the back of your mind spurred from your suspicions—a thought that quickly turned into an idea. At the last second, you acted on your impulse to b-line for his lips, catching you both off guard. You stuck with it, pressing your lips against his harder than you intended. The action stunned him, but it didn't take him longer than a second to embrace it.

It was just a kiss. Not unlike the many kisses you often shared with the others. Not unlike the kisses you've given him before. It was just a simple peck...until it wasn't. 

You pulled away, prepared to give him your thanks for helping you with your studies. But, you never got the chance. Your words were silenced by his lips chasing after yours. Your breath hitched in your throat as your back pressed against the door frame. His hands cupped your cheeks and your lips moved in sync, his tongue daring to swipe across your lips. In the heat of the moment, your mouth nearly opened for him, but he pulled away just as your lips began to part, and you opened your eyes to meet dark green irises peering down at your flushen face. 

Your eyes flickered down to his pink lips, now reddened and somewhat swollen. You watched in disbelief as—just like the others—he, too, licked his lips. 

“Watermelon,” he said lowly. Your chest heaved, your words escaping you. Izuku stepped back, his usual sickeningly sweet smile staring back at you as if nothing happened. 

“We should split some watermelon,” he said. “The next time we study together. That’s my asking rate.”

You nodded hazily. “Okay.”

With that, he said goodbye and left you standing in the doorway to your room dumbfounded. 

.

.

.

Yeah.

Something definitely was up. 

[xxsycamore]

Ok third one. I'm way too enthusiastic for this sorry💀

Napo + masturbation

what if i told you i have a fic about this in my drafts that is only written up to the actual masturbation part but i kind of scrapped it because i made him too lonely to the part where it looked sad just straight-up lonely and jorking it HAHAH i messed up the vibe and it needs reworking and i hate doing that ! but maybe someday.

Napoleon + masturbation

I'd say Napoleon isn't much of the regular jerking-off type. Although he listens and caters to his body's needs - he sleeps to his heart's content without much care, he cooks his own food whenever he feels like it, eats crepes to his heart's content, takes mind-clearing rides at any time he needs them. He's still getting used to having so much time for himself in his hands. He might find himself rushing to get done with his shower and have a sudden realization like wait, I can rub one out, I'm not hurrying for anywhere.

Would he take things slow and enjoy himself? Probably. I think he has those lazy moods where he'd be all in for edging himself and exploring sexual fantasies, but at the same time, he's also someone who can't sit still for longer periods of time. We know he finds quite a lot of activities to keep himself busy with, from helping with the chores at the mansion (tending to the stables too) to teaching kids at his and Isaac's école, to (probably daily) fencing exercises with Jean, to giving bodyguard gigs at balls. So I think he keeps the balance with being lazy in the mornings, claiming some time to appreciate this luxury that he now has. He's grumpy, being woken up by some resident who nudges his shoulder and then takes five steps back to shield themselves from his kissing habits. They shout something at him and leave, and Napoleon now has to fight the urge of going back to sleep, on his own.

A healthy young man such as him, it won't be surprising if his cock is awake long before sleep releases its grip on his mind... it makes him restless as he turns on his back, clicking his tongue at no one in particular, sleepy jade eyes opening to stare at the ceiling... soon his hand travels south to give his cock a firm tug, groaning at the contact. He releases his hold immediately though, letting it spring back against the skin of his belly. He's too sleepy to jerk off, too horny to go back to sleep. By the way yeah, I think he's in the habit of sleeping naked (there was one event story where MC entered his room while he was asleep and was all like "Why are you naked!" - maybe she refers to just his upper body though?) so it makes it easier for him to have a spontaneous morning jerking off. After a bit he turns on his side again, and the covers are grazing past his rock-hard cock juuust in the right way, so he rolls his hips lazily once, and then twice, and it suddenly becomes a real problem. So he says fuck it and pushes off the covers, loosely wrapping his fist around the head of his cock and fucking into it. He doesn't think of anyone in particular, just a nice warm mouth wrapped around his girth, cheeks hollowed out and tongue held out as he thrusts his hips into the willing warm and soft cavern. It's not long before he's cumming in his hand, letting out a satisfied moan and running the fingers of his other hand through his hair to move it out of his forehead, body temperature high and naked chest heaving. A nice cold shower is going to feel amazing for him afterward. The residents might think he becomes a different person once he's past his grumpy wake-up stage but they don't know the secret behind his content little smile.

He also jerks off after his sparring sessions, when the adrenaline is still racing in his blood and the hormones heighten his libido.

Reading erotica is not beyond him either, though he might have an issue with it being too far from what gets him going, with how modest yet dramatic it sounds. He'd enjoy pornographic material that is both deeply intimate and dirty at the same time.

So how does it change for him after he starts dating you? His sex drive is probably skyrocketing, and you can't be available to take care of his morning erections all the time so of course he still has to deal with it himself once in a while. It becomes more interesting now though, because the risk of someone re-entering his room because "are you STILL sleeping, Napoleon?" becomes a dangerously alluring chance of making you catch him, "accidentally". Though he's not without shame. If he expects you to walk on him, if he has that sort of control, it would be very turning-on for him. If he doesn't - if he's caught red-handed with a pair of your underwear or another item of yours... he's going to be embarrassed about it. Frowning, blushing, the sexy ridge of his eyebrows knit together when he's so obviously worked up by it, yet trying to be nonchalant... you should tease him about it. About not being able to wait until he has you later in the day or about being crazy for your scent, about how he must be wishing for your touch that would be able to get him off so, so much faster...

5/10 "Fine, I was touching myself to the thought of you. Are you just going to stand there and watch how hopeless I am? I didn't think you were so coldhearted. Come here... at least let me breathe the air around you. I'll be over with this before you know it, so... indulge me, won't you?"

-> (ALWAYS OPEN) send me a kink & I’ll give you a headcanon and rating for Napoleon!

🦶foot fetish 🥵breeding kink 🥕pregging 😈dom/sub 🍈breast kink ⛓bondage 🩸period kink 👄marking 🐺predator/prey 🏙public sex 🤗praise kink 👅 cunnilingus 🍌blowjobs (receiving) 🚪getting caught

[rainforestakiie]

Priest Adam x Devil/King of Hell Lucifer part 03

The Imp

hi everyone! i am back with the third instalment of @inubaki’s request! ahhh i really love this haha thank you for all the artwork you and your friend made inubaki! I truly hope you will like the new part!

‘A Priest observing that one of fathers in his charge seems to be heavily distracted by something no one else can see. Father Adam had come to them young, an unwanted fourth child to a Nobel family hoping to gain the church’s favor. Life is hard for Adam whim continues to wait for his family to return for him, growing into despair until one day he suddenly improves. He claims he’s spoken to an angel. And, to his credit, does give information far beyond what any child should know. But the older Adam gets, the more distracted he becomes. More happy, but conflicted. Till one day he disappears.'

The Imp (Priest Adam x Devil/King of Hell Lucifer) = Part 01. Part 02. Part 03.

Steve was so pretty.

At the age of fifthteen, Adam’s thoughts still swirled endlessly, drawing him deeper into an almost hypnotic trance. His apple-green eyes gleamed like rare gems, their light reflected in the dim room as he watched the older boy from his shadowed perch. He knew he shouldn’t be this close to the window—shouldn’t let the sun’s deadly rays creep too near—but he couldn’t help himself. Kneeling just beyond the reach of the light, shrouded by heavy, dark curtains, he couldn’t tear his gaze away. Steve was... exquisite. The sun kissed his skin in a way that made him glow, the soft light rendering his freckles as constellations across his cheeks. Adam wanted so badly to trace them all, to memorise their patterns like secret codes only he could decipher.

A breathy, wistful sigh escaped Adam’s lips, his heart all but melting as he watched Steve helping a younger child to their feet after a clumsy tumble. The older boy’s kindness was as radiant as the sun that bathed him, bending to the child's level, his voice low and gentle, like a lullaby meant to soothe all fears. Adam’s chest fluttered, warm and tender.

"Steve would make a wonderful father," Adam murmured dreamily, his cheeks flushing as the thought wrapped itself around his mind like a delicate vine.

It was a bit childish, Adam thought, a flicker of embarrassment settling in his chest. After all, he was nearly sixteen—too old, perhaps, for such whims of fancy. And yet, here he was, allowing himself to drift into a world of impossible dreams. He let out a quiet sigh, tearing his gaze from the fogged window and curling himself tighter behind the heavy drapes, as if their shadowy folds could cloak him from the outside world.

In his lap, a few worn sheets of paper rested, supported by the weight of an old textbook. Though Adam had never been particularly skilled at drawing, he found comfort in it. Sister Emily had once taught him how, before her sight had been stolen by the creeping darkness that now clouded her eyes. It was one of the few things they had shared before the world dimmed for her.

His fingers brushed softly over the rough paper as he sketched, his strokes delicate, almost reverent. Tonight, his heart betrayed him, and he found himself sketching an image that lived only in the recesses of his mind—a portrait of him and Steve, their faces softened by affection, surrounded by the ghostly outlines of two, maybe three children.

Steve was beautiful in a way that made Adam’s heart ache. The way he smiled, so effortlessly sweet, like a secret whispered in the dead of night. Adam couldn’t help but give in to the tender pull of his imagination. He let it wrap around him like a blanket, warm and bittersweet.

Oh, how he would love for that dream to be real. To be a family. To belong somewhere, with Steve by his side, and the laughter of children filling the empty spaces around them.

He shifted slightly, leaning against the wall where it curved into the window, and returned his eyes to Steve. His thoughts began to wander, drawing up images and possibilities that made his body tense with a peculiar mix of yearning and nervous excitement. A dreamy smile tugged at his lips, a deep sigh spilling from his chest like a whisper meant only for the shadows.

Would Steve ever even consider...with him?

“To get married and have children…” he whispered shyly, a touch of a dreamer smile lighting up his lips. “With Ste-”

The sudden, jarring crash of a door slamming behind him made Adam jolt, his heart leaping into his throat. He whirled around, eyes narrowing as they tried to pierce through the dim room. Has someone crept in behind him? Was this another prank from the church kids, trying to frighten him with their mischievous tricks? His pulse raced, but the room appeared empty, still cloaked in its usual shadowy stillness.

Adam pouted, shrugging off the unease as he let the thick curtain slip from his fingers. He turned back to the window, his heart instantly skipping a beat as his gaze locked, wide-eyed, with Steve’s. Heat flooded his face, a small, startled sound—almost a squeak—escaping his lips as Steve grinned and waved at him. Adam’s first instinct was to return the gesture, to raise his hand in a shy, almost desperate wave. But when he tried, he couldn’t.

Something was holding his hand down.

His breath hitched as his brow furrowed in confusion. Slowly, he lowered his gaze to his hand. There was nothing there, no visible force pinning him in place, yet he could feel it—the unmistakable pressure of fingers intertwined with his own. Cold. Unseen. His pulse quickened as he bit down on his bottom lip, his skin crawling with a mixture of fear and something darker, something strangely sweet.

But the invisible hand did not let go.

Adam’s breath caught in his throat as his wide eyes darted back to Steve. He wanted to scream, to beg the older boy to come to his rescue, to tear him away from the unseen force that gripped him in its cold, spectral hold. But his voice refused to come. He could only watch as Steve smiled at him through the glass, so warm and gentle, blissfully unaware of the creeping dread filling the air. The older boy waved again, the gesture as sweet and kind as ever, a picture of innocence framed by the sun.

But then the window shuddered, an unnatural tremor that sent a chill racing down Adam’s spine. Before he could process it, a sharp, echoing crack erupted across the glass. The sound was so loud, so sudden, it tore a startled cry from Adam’s lips. He shot backward in a blind panic, his legs slipping out from under him as he scrambled away from the window, heart thudding wildly in his chest.

The cracks multiplied with terrifying speed, crawling outward like the limbs of a great spider, their jagged lines stretching not just across the window, but creeping up the walls around it, spreading like a dark web of shattered reality. The light from the outside seemed to warp, bending unnaturally as the fractures claimed more of the wall, pulling shadows into their depths.

Adam’s pulse raced, every fibre of his being screaming for him to run, to hide, to escape the sinister web that seemed to tighten around him. Yet, amidst the chaos, his gaze flickered back to Steve, still standing there, still smiling, still so impossibly unaware of the nightmare unravelling before them.

It was as if the world had splintered around Adam, yet Steve remained untouched, suspended in a moment of sunlit perfection while Adam was dragged himself deeper into the darkness.

Powerful rumbles coursed through the room, the sound reverberating like the growl of a hidden beast. The cracks clawed their way further, creeping up the walls and spreading like dark veins overhead. Adam’s body trembled, his muscles locking in place as dread settled deep in his gut. He hunched over, pulling his knees tightly to his chest, his arms folding protectively over his head. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for the inevitable—the ceiling giving way, burying him beneath a rain of jagged debris.

But instead of the crushing weight of collapse, he felt something else—a hand. Solid. Firm. Resting on his shoulder.

Adam’s heart nearly leapt out of his chest as a sharp yelp escaped his lips. His mind spun with confusion, his stomach twisted into painful knots. He jerked around, expecting to see the worst. Yet, there crouched beside him was... Steve.

The older boy’s soft, warm gaze met Adam’s wide, frantic eyes, his concern palpable as his hand rested gently on Adam’s trembling shoulder. Steve’s voice was as soothing as a breeze in the summer sun.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly, his tone filled with care, like he was coaxing a frightened animal out of hiding.

Adam’s breath came in shallow, wheezing gasps as he blinked away the confusion clouding his vision. His gaze darted around the room, expecting the cracks to still be there, the walls to be crumbling, the chaos to remain. But everything was as it had been before. The window was whole, the air calm, the floor solid beneath him. No cracks. No dust. No falling ceiling. Just the quiet, dimly lit room and Steve's comforting presence.

A soft whimper escaped Adam’s throat, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes as his bottom lip trembled. It had all felt so real—so terrifyingly real. He could still feel the echo of the rumbling in his bones, still see the image of the fractured walls crawling across his mind.

“Adam?” Steve’s voice was more urgent now, filled with worry as he rubbed comforting circles on Adam’s back.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong? Did I scare you? I didn’t mean to... You looked so frightened. I got worried and came to find you."

Steve’s words washed over him like a balm, but Adam’s mind couldn’t fully grasp them, not yet. The confusion, the fear—it still lingered, lurking in the shadows of his mind. He wasn’t sure what had just happened, wasn’t sure if it had been a trick of his mind or something darker, something otherworldly that had toyed with him. All he knew was that Steve was here now, real and solid, grounding him in this strange and eerie moment.

Adam's eyes flickered nervously toward the window, the remnants of terror still coursing through him. His throat tightened as he swallowed, his whole body trembling as if it could collapse at any moment. The crack remained etched into the glass, jagged and unnatural, exactly where Steve had been standing just moments ago. It hadn’t vanished like the others. It was real.

"Come on, Adam," Steve’s voice was a gentle murmur in his ear, steady and warm. Adam felt Steve’s arms slip beneath his own, lifting him up with ease. Under any other circumstance, Adam might have grumbled, his pride wounded by needing to be held like this. But now, he didn’t resist. Not with the lingering fear still clutching at his chest. Steve held him close, his presence as comforting as it was grounding.

"I think you need to lay down," Steve continued softly, his voice a soft tether pulling Adam back from the edge of panic. "Sister Sera told me about your condition with the sun. You weren't standing in the sunlight too long, were you?"

Adam’s mind raced as Steve’s words cut through the haze. No... there were no burns. His skin wasn’t blistered, his flesh wasn’t melting under the relentless burn of the sun’s touch. But... had he been in the sun’s light longer than he thought? His condition made him sick, left his skin raw and ruined if he was exposed too long... but this wasn’t that. Or was it? The crack in the window... could he have caused it?

No. No, that wasn’t possible. His hand still tingled from something else, from the cold, inhuman touch that had bound him. The pressure, the weight of those unseen fingers—he hadn’t imagined that. Had he?

"It’ll be alright, Adam," Steve chirped, his tone almost too bright, a beacon in the darkness of Adam’s confusion. Steve led him out of the classroom, the halls of the old building feeling even darker now, colder. "It’ll be alright."

Adam continued to stare back over his shoulder as they left the room, his gaze fixed on the spot where the crack had shattered his world. Even when the window disappeared from sight, his eyes remained glued to the void behind him, waiting—hoping—to catch a glimpse of something. He always saw something, didn’t he? The strange, the inexplicable, the things that lurked just beyond the edges of reality.

But this time... there was nothing.

The silence in his mind was louder than any crackling glass, more oppressive than any shadow. He felt safer with Steve’s hand holding his…

His drawings had mysteriously disappeared…

~#~

“There,” Steve exhaled with satisfaction, stepping back from the wardrobe with his hands on his hips. “Now nothing can get out during the night.”

Adam’s lips twitched in the faintest of smiles as he lay curled on his side, tightly cocooned within his blankets. His gaze lingered on the old pink skipping rope Steve had used to tie the wardrobe doors shut, a flimsy but sweet attempt at protection.

“Don’t tell Eve I swiped her skipping rope,” Steve added with a playful grin, spinning on his toes with a lightness that made Adam’s heart flutter. He practically skipped to his bed, his clear blue eyes twinkling mischievously. “But seriously, if you can’t sleep or have another nightmare, just crawl into my bed. You don’t have to wake me up.”

Adam gave a meek nod, feeling a strange warmth bloom in his chest. His heart did a tiny, giddy dance at Steve’s words. The kindness made his face burn with embarrassment, and he quickly pulled the quilt up over his head, hiding from the older boy’s clear gaze. His cheeks were flaming, and he was sure his blush was as obvious as the daylight he dreaded.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Steve asked softly, his tone growing quieter, laced with concern. “You’ve been shaky ever since this morning.”

Adam hesitated before poking a hand out from beneath the covers, offering a weak thumbs up. He couldn’t help but smile when he heard Steve chuckle in response. That sound—so light and free—was like a balm for his anxious soul. He peeked out from his blanket fortress, watching Steve’s blue eyes sparkle with amusement. The grin that tugged at Steve’s cherry-red lips only deepened, his dimples carving into his cheeks in the most charming way.

Ah, Steve was just so... cute.

“Well, if you say so~” Steve whistled cheerfully, tossing himself onto his bed with a dramatic flop.

Adam bit his lip, holding back the laugh that bubbled up inside him. He wasn’t sure how to let it out, how to release that strange mix of joy and unease swirling inside him. Instead, his gaze drifted back to the wardrobe. His heart quickened as his eyes locked onto the pink skipping rope, tightly wrapped around the handles. Would it really hold? Could something as fragile as a skipping rope keep that... thing... inside?

His stomach twisted in fear as he recalled the black silhouette that always lurked within the wardrobe’s depths, emerging only at night. It was there every time the room fell into shadow, a dark figure that terrified him to his core. It growled and writhed behind the doors, furious when Adam would crawl into Steve’s bed for safety, as if it resented the comfort he found there. Steve had never seen it. Steve never heard the growling, never felt the cold presence hovering just beyond the threshold of that fragile pink rope.

Adam’s heart trembled with fear, even as he lay curled beneath the safety of his blankets. He hoped, desperately, that tonight would be different—that the rope would hold, that the silhouette would remain locked away, where it couldn’t reach him. But in the silence that followed Steve’s soft breathing, Adam’s gaze lingered on the wardrobe, waiting, fearing, knowing deep down that it was only a matter of time before the thing inside stirred once more.

Adam couldn’t recall when he drifted into sleep, but as swiftly as a rubber band snaps, his eyes jerked open. His vision was a foggy swirl of shadows, distorting reality and sending an aching pulse through the bridge of his nose. Slowly, cautiously, he sat up, pressing his palms hard into his eyes as if to wipe away the heaviness lingering in them.

Everything felt...off again. Uncanny. Wrong. An uneasy whine rose from his throat, and he forced his tired gaze to the cross above his bed. It was upside down, mocking him in its eerie defiance, because of course it was. He groaned softly as his sore legs protested when he stood, reaching up to set the cross right again.

His body sagged against the wall, feeling the coolness seeping into him like a whispered warning. His head lolled slightly as he glanced toward the wardrobe—it was still tied shut, securely bound, as if whatever lurked within hadn't stirred. Relief washed over him, and he let his forehead rest against the cold plaster, the contrast to his own feverish warmth almost comforting.

He stood there, unmoving, the chill of the wall seeping deeper into his skin. His eyelids began to grow heavy again, dragging him toward that perilous edge of sleep. But no, he wouldn’t let himself succumb. Not standing like this, not in this place. He was about to surrender to the blankets, retreat into their cocoon, when something caught his attention—a slight draft or perhaps just a shift in the darkness.

He blinked. The bedroom door was open.

Had Steve left it ajar? Adam turned his head, eyes searching for the older boy who slept soundly in the bed across the room, blissfully unaware of the creeping darkness that surrounded them. The church felt hollow, its silence heavier than it should be. Adam’s gaze returned to the doorway, his throat tightening as a sharp taste of fear swirled in his mouth. He bit his bottom lip until it stung.

There, directly in the centre of the threshold, sat a candle. A solitary, ominous candle that sent an icy tremor skittering down his spine. He inhaled sharply, his lips thinning as a shiver locked his muscles in place. He knew that candle. He had seen it before—years ago, in a memory that clawed at the corners of his mind like something too dark to fully remember.

A black candle with a flame that flickers white and purple. The sight of it tightened his chest, dredging up old, buried nightmares. His fingers curled into the blankets, knuckles white with tension, his nose twitching as fear gripped him. He could hardly tear his eyes from the flame, watching it dance inside its ancient silver holder. If he looked closer, he could make out delicate carvings—small apple-like shapes etched into the tarnished metal, winding around the base where the handle twisted upward in an elegant curve.

But Adam didn't dare step closer. The past was too close now, breathing down his neck, reminding him of that time...the time he was placed on that altar...

Adam’s breath hitched, a jagged edge catching in his throat. He pulled his knees tightly to his chest, curling inward as his eyes darted around the room. Everything seemed the same, yet an invisible tension lingered in the air, whispering of something unseen but waiting. Nothing appeared out of place... but that feeling of wrongness clung to him like a shadow, refusing to be shaken off.

Slowly, hesitantly, he pushed the heavy quilts away, their warmth slipping from his skin as he moved to stand. His knees buckled beneath him, nearly sending him to the floor. He steadied himself with a shaky hand, the tremors in his body growing more pronounced as he crept toward the candle. It sat there so innocently, yet the flickering of the white and purple flame was anything but comforting. It seemed to beckon him, to draw him closer with its strange and hypnotic glow.

Adam poked his head out into the hallway, his heart racing as his eyes scanned the shadows that stretched out on either side. There was nothing. Just the emptiness of the night and the eerie quiet of the old church. His lips pressed into a thin line, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth as he pulled his head back inside and returned his gaze to the candle.

Its flame flickered softly, casting strange, dancing shadows against the walls. Adam hesitated, a cold sweat gathering at the nape of his neck as he bent down toward the strange light. His hands shook violently, but he forced them forward, fingers curling around the handle of the silver holder. The metal was cool to the touch, the carvings beneath his fingertips smooth and strange. As he straightened up, lifting the candle from the floor, his eyes remained locked on the flame—unable to look away, as though something deeper than fear compelled him to keep watching it.

The flame danced as if it knew something he didn’t. Something dark and ancient.

Adam inhaled deeply, his breath shaky, his hand trembling as he gripped the cool handle of the candle holder. His eyes were locked on the flickering flame, its white and purple light swirling hypnotically, refusing to release him from its spell. It danced with an almost mischievous life of its own, teasing the edges of his thoughts.

What should he do? Where had this candle even come from? A cold unease twisted inside him. Maybe… maybe he should wake Steve. Steve would know what to do; Steve always knew what to do. Over the past year, Steve had been endlessly patient with him, a constant source of warmth in Adam’s otherwise haunted nights. That thought sent a flutter through his chest—sweet and soft, a rare comfort in this place of shadows. Steve had stayed by his side, soothing him through the long, sleepless nights, even allowing him to slip into his bed when the thing in the wardrobe refused to let Adam rest. Those moments meant more than Adam could ever express.

But then, out of nowhere, a sound—a faint, childish giggle—broke through the silence from somewhere to his left. Adam’s breath hitched sharply. His body stiffened, and he whipped around, just in time to catch a fleeting glimpse of something small and fast darting past the end of the corridor. His eyes widened in alarm. The figure was too quick, too blurry to make out which child it was. But his heart raced at the thought—if Sister Sera caught them, they’d be sent to the Bobo Box.

Adam’s face scrunched in worry, torn between waking Steve and following the mysterious figure. He cast one last glance toward Steve’s sleeping form, then, with his heart pounding in his chest, cautiously started down the corridor.

The air inside the church clung with an unnatural chill, far colder than it should have been. Adam shivered violently, his lips tinged a deep blue. He hunched his small frame, clutching at the oversized sweater draped over him. It was Steve’s, a gift surrendered when Adam had been caught admiring it. Though it hung baggy and awkward on him, it offered a peculiar comfort. He slowed to a halt, lifting his gaze to the towering grandfather clock looming above. Its hands jittered and spun as though they were caught in some unseen frenzy, their movements unsettlingly erratic. Adam’s brow furrowed in confusion. He had never seen the clock behave like this before. Sister Sera had mentioned Father Michael had crafted it many years ago. It was a relic, ancient and cherished by the church.

A lump formed in Adam’s throat as he squinted at the clock's glass, straining to focus on the reflection staring back at him. A shadowy figure loomed there, silently watching from the doorway that led into the parlor. Adam’s heart thundered, freezing for a beat before surging into a frantic rhythm. He spun around, his breath catching as the dim light flickered unnervingly. A soft, eerie giggle echoed through the still air—a sound that sent a shiver racing down Adam’s spine.

The figure was small and childlike, but there was something wrong about it. Another eerie laugh escaped its lips before it turned abruptly and bolted deeper into the church, its form darting far too fast for Adam to truly make out its features. Despite the icy dread coiling in his chest, Adam’s feet betrayed him, propelling him forward in pursuit of the mysterious child.

His lips twitched as if trying to call out, but no sound came. His voice was trapped in his throat, silenced by fear. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat so strong it echoed in his ears. Adam gasped for breath, a stifled sob escaping him as he pressed on. His legs trembled, heavy with exhaustion, yet he couldn't stop running. He had never raced through the church like this before, knowing full well that such disobedience would earn him sharp strikes to the hands.

The ancient floorboards groaned beneath his feet as if whispering secrets long forgotten. Above him, the ceiling creaked with the sound of countless tiny footsteps, as though an army of unseen children scampered about. The flickering light bulbs overhead swayed back and forth, casting ominous shadows that danced mockingly around him.

Adam turned in a frantic circle, his eyes locked on the trembling ceiling above him, where the sound of countless small feet scurried in a maddening loop. It was as if unseen children were racing overhead, encircling him in an eerie dance. His breath caught in his throat, a sharp, panicked whimper escaping his lips as he twisted on his bare feet. He stumbled, nearly collapsing to the ground but managed to catch himself just in time.

He bolted into the dining room, the largest and most foreboding space in the church. The walls loomed with cold, grey stone bricks, their rough surfaces jagged and unkind. Adam hated the floor, sharp-edged stone that had cut more than one careless child’s foot. The arched windows, small and narrow, were lined with black, prison-like bars of iron. They cast dark shadows on the room’s interior, making the space feel more like a dungeon than a place for gathering.

The room was ancient, older than anything else in the church, and its age seemed to seep into the very air, thick and heavy with forgotten time. A single long, weathered wooden table stretched across the centre, rarely filled despite the church being crammed with orphans, nuns, and priests. When Adam stepped inside, his skin crawled with a sudden, visceral dread.

He froze, his bare feet pressing painfully into the unforgiving stone. A sharp sting radiated from his left foot, but he barely noticed. His wide, apple-green eyes stretched in shock as the breath caught in his chest, his heart squeezing so tightly it felt like his ribs might snap under the pressure.

The dining room had transformed into something out of a nightmare. Red candles covered every surface, their twisted wax forms flickering with strange black flames that burned coldly against the darkness. The table was draped in a deep crimson cloth, rich and velvety. But what made Adam's blood run cold were the children. Every stool at the table was occupied by pale, porcelain-faced children, their eyes impossibly large and glossy, black as endless voids. They weren’t human eyes. They gleamed with a soulless, alien shine. Their skin was smooth and polished like fine china, unnervingly perfect, and Adam felt a shiver skitter down his spine as he heard soft clicks and whirs when they tilted their heads in unison, just like fragile, wind-up dolls.

They were pristine, flawless in every detail. Their hair, ranging from golden blonde to deep brown, was meticulously groomed, and they wore clothing of finely tailored black, white, and red. Every movement was deliberate, too precise, as if they were posed, waiting for something. The air hung thick with tension as Adam took a hesitant step forward, and in that instant, the doors behind him slammed shut with a thunderous bang.

Adam let out a scream, spinning on his heel to face the doors. He lunged for the handles, yanking with all his strength, but they refused to budge, as though sealed by some invisible force. His heart hammered wildly in his chest as he turned back to the room, sweat beading on his forehead.

The sound of laughter—a chorus of eerie, high-pitched giggles—filled the air, but it was far from playful. It was ghostly, distorted, as if thousands of children were laughing in some dark, twisted harmony. Adam’s stomach churned violently. His eyes darted back to the children, their painted lips now curled into sweet, yet sinister smiles.

His gaze drifted to the chair at the head of the table, the one closest to him. It was newer than the rest, the wood a deep, blood-red hue with plush black cushions sewn into it. It didn’t belong here—certainly not where Sister Sera usually sat. As Adam stared at it, he felt an icy tingle creep across his skin, a dark shadow pooling in the farthest corner of the room where the light refused to reach.

The porcelain children never broke their gaze, their smiles never faltering. Suddenly, a little china girl sitting at the far end of the table rose to her feet with a soft clink of her joints, bowing deeply, her red-tinted cheeks gleaming like polished glass. Across from her, a china boy stood up with a sharp, mechanical movement, his bow so deep his head nearly brushed the floor. They moved with a strange fluidity, their limbs clicking like clockwork dolls, each motion accompanied by that unnerving sound.

Together, they tugged the chair out from the table, their eyes never leaving Adam as they gestured for him to sit. He hesitated, his gaze flicking between the two doll-like figures. Their painted smiles stretched wider as they gestured again, more insistent this time, urging him closer.

With a racing heart and no other choice, Adam inched toward the chair. His foot throbbed from the cut, but the pain felt distant, swallowed by the suffocating fear that gripped him. His wide eyes darted between the children, unable to comprehend how they moved so fluidly, as if alive. He lowered himself into the chair, the cushion soft beneath him.

The moment he sat, the two doll-children pressed their small hands to the back of the chair, pushing him in closer to the table before silently returning to their seats. Adam’s heart raced, his breath shallow and quick, as the room seemed to close in around him. And still, those wide, black eyes watched him, unblinking, waiting.

Nervously, Adam gnawed at his bottom lip until the sting of pain shot through him. His shoulders hunched in tight, a small tremor running through his fingers as he crossed them protectively over his stomach. His gaze flickered meekly over the children seated around the table. They appeared no older than four or five, but there was something deeply unsettling in the way their glassy eyes tracked his every movement.

Without warning, the silence shattered. The children erupted into joyful cheers, their voices shrill and almost too sweet. Party poppers exploded in their tiny hands, sending colourful streams of confetti spiralling through the air. Adam's eyes widened in shock, watching as the dining room was suddenly bathed in a warm, golden glow. It seemed almost festive now, but despite the change, Adam instinctively shrank back, his mind swirling with confusion and unease.

Across the table, a pair of red and golden eyes gleamed through the shifting light, pinning him in place. Adam gasped, his breath catching in his throat as he straightened, startled. There, seated casually at the far end of the table, was Luci, his sharp grin cutting through the room like a blade. Its arrow-tipped tail swished lazily behind it, the movement almost hypnotic. A crisp white top hat perched atop its head, casting shadows over its face, but leaving those unnaturally beautiful eyes to glow vividly in the dimness.

"Mama’s home!" the china children chorused in unison, their mechanical voices high-pitched and eerie as they bounced excitedly on their stools. Their arms flailed in a strange imitation of joy, and above the Imp, a banner unfurled with a soft flutter.

It was stained a deep, rusty red, the words scrawled across it reading, "Mummy’s come home!"

Adam’s breath hitched painfully in his chest, each inhale trembling as his lungs struggled to keep pace with his panic.

"M-Mummy?" he stammered, the word barely escaping his lips, as if his voice had been trapped somewhere deep inside.

The Imp’s grin widened—impossibly wide—its cheeks flushed a deep crimson that seemed to glow against the pale skin. Its gleaming eyes never left Adam, staring straight into him, through him, as if the creature could read every desperate thought racing through his mind. But Adam’s attention was abruptly diverted by movement at his side.

One of the china children had waddled up to him, its porcelain limbs clicking softly as it carried a large, rolled-up piece of paper. It released the scroll with a careful flick, allowing it to unfurl in front of Adam. His heart nearly stopped as the image was revealed. It was a sketch, eerily familiar, but larger and far more detailed than the one Adam had once drawn in secret. Only now, Steve was gone, completely erased, and in his place stood Luci, looming proudly. They were surrounded by children—each one smiling with wide, jagged grins that mirrored the Imp’s sinister expression.

Adam swallowed hard, his throat tightening painfully as his gaze lingered on the twisted smiles. They stared back at him from the paper, their sharp teeth gleaming like tiny, hungry blades. A sickening chill crawled up his spine, making his stomach churn. His pulse raced, pounding in his ears as he fought to tear his eyes away from the unnerving scene.

Luci’s voice echoed softly in the back of his mind, almost a whisper, but it carried a weight that made Adam’s blood run cold.

"Y-Y-You..." Adam stammered, licking his dry lips as his gaze flickered nervously to the Imp’s piercing eyes. He swallowed hard, barely able to form the words as they trembled on the edge of his tongue. "You... built... me a family?"

The Imp, Luci, responded with a slow, prideful nod, his eyes gleaming with a twisted satisfaction. His lips curled into a sharp, knowing grin as Adam hesitantly pointed a trembling finger toward himself.

"And..." Adam’s voice shook, barely audible as he struggled to comprehend the nightmare unfolding around him. "...I’m the M-M... Mama?"

The room was suddenly filled with the sound of eerie giggles, the china children kicking their feet with uncontainable glee. Their glassy eyes never wavered from Adam, their joy unsettling in its falseness. Luci tilted his head ever so slightly, his eyes gleaming brighter as he gave a deliberate, luring nod, his grin widening as if this revelation was a game he had long been waiting for Adam to understand.

Adam inhaled deeply, his lips twitching involuntarily as his mind wrestled with the horror before him. He looked back at Luci, his fingers twitching uncontrollably. A family. A make-believe family, created from some twisted fantasy. It was terrifying—every child seated around the table had an unsettling, doll-like quality that sent shivers down his spine. Yet... there was something else. A strange, warped sense of being touched. Luci, his Imp, had pieced together a family for him. A grotesque, chilling gesture, but a gesture nonetheless.

"And... and..." Adam struggled to find his voice, his thoughts spiralling as he grasped for clarity.

Before he could finish, Luci leaned forward, his movements fluid and predatory. He propped his elbows on the table, his long claws threading together like pieces of a delicate puzzle. His sharp teeth glittered in the dim light, and his eyes... they swirled with an enchanting, dangerous allure that made Adam’s pulse quicken. He couldn't tear his gaze away, as if Luci’s eyes had woven some dark spell around his mind.

"I’m the Mama... and you’re the Papa?" Adam finally whispered, the words barely escaping his lips, trembling with both fear and an unsettling sense of acceptance.

The china doll children erupted into another round of gleeful squeals, their delicate bodies shaking with excitement as they bounced on their stools. The sound was unnerving, yet Adam couldn't look away from Luci’s intense gaze, his heart pounding faster in his chest with each passing second.

Suddenly, Luci rose to his feet, his movements swift and effortless. He climbed onto the table with an unsettling grace, his clawed feet clicking against the wood as he revealed a lavish red and gold throne behind him. It had been there all along, hidden in plain sight, and Adam felt a chill run down his spine as he realised the throne had been the Imp’s rightful seat.

His eyes fell to Luci’s goat-like hooves as the Imp began to walk slowly down the centre of the table, the candles flickering in his wake. Luci's figure loomed larger and larger until he stood directly over Adam, casting a dark shadow that enveloped him entirely. Adam’s heart raced wildly, his breath coming in short, rapid bursts as Luci’s glowing eyes bore into his very soul.

This was no ordinary family. It was a nightmare wrapped in velvet, a macabre creation crafted from the darkest parts of his imagination. And yet, Luci stood before him, offering it all with a grin that promised so much more than Adam could ever understand.

….but…Adam smiled.

Luci held out a black claw and Adam took it.

[newtonsheffield]

take me home country roads was probably the softest thing I’ve ever read I’m so obsessed with it that i read all the snippets you wrote in the hashtag for this story here! do you think you will ever write something in this universe again so we can have a little update for them? thank you for this one💚

Oh Muffin and Bear.

I miss those two softies. They were so sweet. They really helped one another heal and I think because of that their relationship is really strong. And their children would be so loved.

Imagine the very first time Neddy whittled something for Kate. Imagine how Neddy’s always sat with Anthony in his workshop, sat on the bench watching his Dad work, fascinated as he watches the shapes appear.

“Can I make something, Papa?”

Anthony knelt in front of his son, five years old and Anthony still can hardly believe Kate found him. Let alone the two beautiful children they have and a third on the way. His chest feels tight every time he watches Kate with their sons, the swell of her stomach just visible when they pile onto the sofa around her, desperate to be as close as possible to her while she reads to them with her chin resting on the tops of their heads. His wife and their children.

“Do you want to?”

“Yeah!” Neddy grinned at him with his curly hair falling in his eyes, his feet swinging over the edge of the table. “I wanna be like you!”

It had brought tears to his eyes the first time they had let Neddy pick out his own clothes and he’d ended up with a pile that looked just like Anthony’s half of the wardrobe and he’d let them fall with his head against Kate’s chest and he fingers in his hair.

“Of course he wants to be like you. You’re a great father, Bear.”

Anthony kissed his son’s forehead, ruffling his hair. “Let’s make something for Amma then.”

It takes weeks. Weeks and weeks of Neddy’s hard work. His determined frown and his frustrated pout before finally it’s done and he takes them inside, wrapped in brown paper and twine.

“Mummy!” Neddy rushed forward, the parcel big in his hands as he races towards Kate sat at her easel with Miles on her lap as she works, Newton dozing at her feet. “Amma I made something!”

Kate smiled at their son and Anthony’s chest felt tight when she kissed his cheek, wrapping him in her arms tightly for a moment. “Did you? That’s so amazing little cub. Did Daddy help you?”

Her eyes met Anthony’s sparkling at him in the fading light of the day. And Anthony shifted slightly, still lost for words when he looked at her sometimes. “Just a little. It’s mostly his work.”

“Well, let’s see then.” Kate hummed, tugging carefully at the twine while Neddy practically vibrated with excitement as the paper slipped away.

Four bears on a log. That’s what Neddy had wanted to make. They were a little lumpy and imperfect but he’d made them with love and Anthony could see the way Kate swallowed thickly as she ran her fingers over the roughly oiled carvings.

“Neddy, it’s beautiful.”

“It’ll hold your brushes.” He said proudly. Leaning in to the touch of Anthony’s hand on his shoulder. “Daddy made the holes. That’s Papa, and Me, and Miles and the new baby.” He pointed to the Bear and his three cubs.

“You did such an amazing job, baby.” Kate’s voice shook as she kissed his face again, “I am so proud of you.”

Neddy took a deep breath, his chest puffing out, “Can we call gramma Mary and Violet so I can show them?”

“Absolutely, go and grab my phone.”

Neddy raced inside and Miles took off after him, desperate to catch up to his brother.

Kate stood slowly, wrapping her arms around Anthony’s waist and pressing her face against his chest. She breathed deeply, “You’ve been keeping secrets.”

Anthony huffed, holding his wife tighter, “It was hard. He was so cute about it but I took lots of videos.”

Kate sighed, leaning back in his arms, “Ugh who would’ve thought the grumpy bear I stayed next to one Autumn would make such sweet babies?”

“You did.”

“Yeah, I did. It’s so incredible to be right about everything.”

“Yeah yeah yeah.”

[burrowbaddie]

Heyy if you’re taking requests between chapters could you do something with the reader being famous or something but still quite shy and meeting the guys or them bugging joe when they find out that he’s dating her?

"Whose got you smiling into your phone like that, Burrow?" Ja'Marr asked, shoving his teammate.

"No one." Joe quickly puts his phone away as Zac starts talking about the upcoming season. His phone vibrates in his pocket, and Joe can't contain his excitement. He knows you are finally responding. Sure, you're in Tokyo shooting for your latest movie, and he understands how busy your schedule can get, but he would be lying if he said it didn't get to him. So, you being able to double-text him right now has him ready to jump out of his chair and call you. As soon as the meeting ends, Joe goes to the bathroom to facetime you.

"Hey, handsome." You pick up still in full make-up and costume.

"Wow, you look amazing. What are you?"

"I would be spoiling the movie, and that would be against my contract."

"Right, I'm sorry."

"I'm just kidding, Burr. I'm a prostitute in the early 2000s. I'm shooting season two of Tokyo Vice."

"I love that show! I didn't know you were going to be in season two."

"It's a secret."

"I umm miss-

"Sorry, They're calling me back to set! I'll call you when I get some downtime." You hang up before Joe can tell you good night.

"Who were you on the phone with?" Your manager smiles at you. You bit your lip and shook your head.

"Let's get back to set!" You reply, getting up from your chair. After another 6 hours, you wrap up for the day. You want to call Joe, but it's pretty later over there. But you end up calling anyway.

"What's up, baby?" Joe answers on the third ring. You lay back on your bed, smiling.

"I just finished filming, so I wanted to call you. I didn't think you would be available."

"Oh yeah, I couldn't sleep."

"So, I get back to the states in a few days. If you're free-"

"Yes. I mean, yeah. We should meet up." Joe cuts you off before you can finish, which makes you laugh. You end up falling asleep on the phone with him, exhausted after long hours of shooting even though it was only 1 pm.

And when you get back to the states, you meet Joe in LA discreetly. Joe looks at the dinner you prepared and nods his head, impressed by your cooking skills.

"Looks great." He pulls you into his arms and kisses your head.

"You better enjoy it. I hate cooking, but it's the one thing I'm glad my mom taught me." You look up at him smiling.

"Speaking of mom. My mother is dying to meet, and I quote the girl who has my son smiling like a maniac."

"Oh, so I am on downtime now. I can come to your first home game of the season. I guess I will meet her there."

"Are you sure that's okay?"

"Yeah. It will be fine." You tell him. But when the day comes, you're so nervous you can barely keep focused on simple tasks.

"A football game? You hate football." Your brother says, laughing. You look at yourself in the mirror, making sure Joe's jersey looks okay.

"I'm dating the quarterback." You finally confess. He laughs and shakes his head.

"Of the Ravens?"

"Nope. Bengals."

"No fucking way. You're not dating Joe Burrow."

"I am, and I'm supposed to tailgate with his family today, and I'm super nervous. Do I look okay" You pick up your phone, and your brother takes his Facetime off of pause to look at you?

"Holy shit. You are dating him. I'm surprised it hasn't come out on TMZ."

"Well, we barely had time to see each other, so-"

"Wait, how long have you been dating."

"9 months now."

"Why are you just now telling me?"

"It wasn't serious. Idk I didn't think we would be together this long. I thought, hey, this is a good fuck; don't ruin a good thing, but then we just clicked, and yeah."

"This is insane. You know, by wearing his jersey, rumors will start, right?"

"I should change." You say, tossing the jersey off.

Joe stares at his phone, waiting for you to say you're here.

"There you go on the phone again. Whoever she is, has you whipped." Ja'Marr says, making the other guys laugh. Joe ignores them and sneaks away to meet you. He pulls you into a hug and kisses your lips softly.

"So, I was wearing your jersey, but I didn't want to draw attention." You ramble. Joe laughs and looks at you wearing his hoodie.

"My parents are this way. I'm sorry I obviously can't join the tailgate but I think you'll be okay. I hope." Joe whispers the last part to himself. Joe opens the door and his mother's eyes light up.

"You did not tell us you were dating oscar winning actress-"

"Don't make this weird," Joe says, cutting off his sister-in-law, who is almost in tears.

"Yeah, so this is my girlfriend." Joe goes around introducing you to everyone. When Joe has to leave your side, you almost start to panic. But his mother grabs your hand, giving you a warm smile.

"Joe has just been glowing these last few months. I'm glad I finally get to meet the reason why." She whispers. You sit with the family and enjoy the festive of tailgating. A few people take photos of you or ask for your autograph, which you are happy to give. When it's game time, you decide to put Joe's jersey back on and become the supporting girlfriend. The truth is you know nothing about football. During warm-ups, Joe continues to look over at you. At one point, you blow a kiss at him, and he drops the ball. You start laughing. During the game, Joe is focused on winning. You cheer him and the team on. They win, and you wait with his family after the game. The Burrows have a celebration at their house after the game. You prepare yourself to meet his teammates. When Joe introduces you as his girlfriend, the guys' jaw drops.

"Did not see this coming? How did you meet?" Sam asks. Joe hands you a beer, and you take a sip letting Joe tell the story.

"We met at her cousin's wedding in December."

"Joe had game to pull you like that?" Ja'Marrs asks. You giggled.

"Those TikToks helped." You reply. Joe wraps his arm around you. The guys ask many questions you mostly let Joe answer because you feel timid, but with Joe's arm around you protectively, it melts away. At the end of the night, Joe takes you away to make out with you, away from peeping eyes. You sit on the bathroom counter, moaning into his mouth while his tongue works around yours.

"Can you stay at my place, or do you need to go back to LA?"

"I can stay with you. I'm on a little break." You whisper. He smiles, kissing down your neck. You hiss as he sucks a bruise onto your neck.

"Joe. Let's get home first." You giggle. Joe groans as you palm him through his jeans.

"I love you," Joe whispers. You freeze up and don't reply.

"Joseph! Your mother is looking for you." His father's voice breaks the awkward silence. Joe pulls away and doesn't look at you before leaving the bathroom. You lean against the mirror, cursing yourself.

A/N: I started getting carried away when I saw this ask! The idea was just too good too! I hope this was okay and you like it!

[sixlane]

hi hi hi 🫶 would you mind sharing your bartylus thoughts? i am so curious about them

bella! i would love to share my thoughts! giving you a giant kiss <3

barty and reg became friends when they were very young and it was definitely one of those friendships of convenience for regulus. he was constantly annoyed with this loud mouth weirdo who is catching spiders with his bare hands and showing them to him meanwhile regulus just wants to read his nancy drew books on the playground in peace. but reg is a little quiet weirdo kid too just in a different way. so neither of them have other friends and just stick together

it’s one of those things where they look up in 10 years and they’ve spent half their lives together. reg is like “how did i get here” (he loves barty more than he’s ever loved anyone) and barty is like “🥺 ten year anniversary head??” (he’s been looking for a way to merge their very beings almost since they met)

barty is obsessed with the place where regulus’ ass meets his thighs and reg is obsessed with barty’s collarbones

they can predict what the other will say in any given situation. and they often say the same thing at the exact same time. it makes barty laugh so hard because every time reg is like “get the FUCK out of my head”

regulus is terrible at making decisions so barty makes them for him (he always somehow chooses the option that regulus is secretly partial to)

they really are just that secret third thing and i love them so bad

[heeseungsnewwhore]

I’m sorry I know I’m supposed to be hitting you all with the mass update for kinktober but I’m down bad…Really bad. The Jake’s babygirl/good girl agenda will just not get out of my head.

Like…

Imagine, imagine hating the color pink. It’s never been your thing really, just not yourself, not in your own personal opinion. But then you meet Jake.

And Jake has a secret.

The both of you do now.

A pink secret.

“You’re doing so good for me, babygirl.”

You hear his voice singing praise to you once again. His hand down between your thighs, playing under the pink, pleated skirt he loved so much. Along with other pink, leather adornments around your neck, your thighs, and a long discarded pair of fluffy pink cuffs. Turns out your hands had been necessary for him after all. He continues to whisper the sweet nothings to you as he works in a third finger. Stretching your threshold, playing deeper into your core as your thighs trembled.

“It feels good, yeah? My good girl~ Letting me get her nice and ready for my cock. That’s what she wants, right?”

He’ll tease you with words like this and you’ll be his whimpering, nodding, writhing, obedient babygirl. Taking his fingers over and over until he decides you’re nice and ready for more. Pulling his soaked digits from your cunt and replacing them with his cock.

“Fuck- Fuck you’re so tight.” He’ll groan into your ear when your juicing walls surround him.

And he won’t stop there. Jake is very vocal. And he wants you to be too. Wants to hear you scream his name, tell him where it feels good, tell him how you want it.

Harder?

Faster?

Slower?

Talk to him. He loves to hear your voice and that’s exactly what he gets. You’re both greedy, and he’s feeding your needy hole with harsh thrusts. Snapping his hips into you again and again as you struggle to form words in all your labored breathing. The way his cock was punching through your tightness making you a mess.

Then there’s those filthy words of his that send you over the edge.

“Am I fucking you good enough, baby? Is this what my babygirl’s greedy little cunt wants? Yeah? Good girl~ Good girl, keep taking my cock then, just like this.”

Your legs are spread as wide as you can hold them, grabbing under your knees to keep them up and open for him while he’s just abusing your soaking little cunt. You’d already cum at this point and he’s gotten even rougher with you just to really overstimulate you, pushing you just a little further past your limits. A hand around your throat and the other braced and gripping one of your breasts as he fucks you. Using your hole to chase his own release now. Loving every sob, cry and broken attempt you make to call out to him.

“It’s too much…I know it’s too much- Fuck, I’m almost there. Gonna finish fucking your pretty,fat cunt babygirl- Gonna give your greedy fucking hole all of my cum. T-Take it all…”

Every word is spilling in a vulgar groan. You can tell he’s right there just by how he sounds of course. Filling your hole just like he promised, your walls being welcomed with his release as his hips slow to a finish with sloppy thrusts. But he’s still inside you, bottomed out, not wanting to let a single ounce of his cum leave your pussy just yet. Still panting as he’s placing tired, but sweet and gentle kisses all around your face.

“Such a good girl…My good girl.”

[vaguesxrrow]

can you PLEASE do a fic of different times the avengers find out something new about natasha. IK ITS REALLY RANDOM but i saw a prompt on PINTEREST. PINTEREST. AGES AGO and i cannot stop thinking about it. like it could be whilst shes drunk and doesnt stop talkin about secrets about herself she wouldnt usually say or like she'd tell them about the most concerning things ever happening to her in the red room and smile n shrug or smth. IDM ANY SHIPS so u can choose (or just none x). THIS IS REALLY RANDOM but THANK YOU if u actually end up writing this.

first marvel fic !! so glad it's a nat centric one bc i love her sm. that being said, i dont want to minimise how traumatic the red room was for her so im considering writing a p2 to this where she talks about it properly..

drunk natasha - blackhill

a/n: this is in the pov of tony, but there is maria/nat at the end. also all the avengers are there but sadly not all of then have dialogue :((

cws: talk of the red room (although unexplicit, pls be wary!)

wc: 492

tony probably shouldn't have spiked the booze.

how do you spike booze, you might be asking? well, if anyone asked, he would give a vague response like, "you can spike anything if you put your mind to it." if natasha romanoff - the person who had arguably been the most affected by it - asked, he would run away to save his life.

anyway, he probably shouldn't have spiked the booze, because now natasha - the person (excluding thor, steve, and bucky, because they had a biological advantage) with the highest alchohol tolerance of them all was tipsy, and rambling.

it was definitely a sight to behold.

"what booze is this?" natasha asked, for the third time that night. her russian accent was more prominent now that she was intoxicated. "oh! my favourite. when i was in the red room, one of my targets had this brand, and i... i poisoned it." her voice lowered to a whisper, and she giggled conspirationally.

tony, along with the other 5 avengers, froze. natasha had never talked about her time in the red room before, and he wasn't sure if she even wanted to now, or if it was the vodka making her loose-lipped.

bruce, who was the only one still semi-sober, began to protest. "nat, maybe you should-"

"it's fiiine, brucie." she waved him off, leaning into the cushioned couch. suddenly, she perked back up. "oh! another funny story, when i was out on a mission with another girl, we got drunk. i- i kissed her, and... it was on purpose, that time. before, we would have to kiss and stuff as part of the act, but with lyubov i wanted it."

"and stuff?" clint noted with concern. the archer had been the first to down 2 consecutive drinks, and also the first to lead a game of drunk pictionary, but now he seemed dead serious.

tony was 90% drunk himself, but even he was beginning to get worried about nat.

natasha smiled demurely, seemingly oblivious.

"how old were you?" tony blurted.

she thought about it for a while. "fourteen.” she began singing. “you just don't step inside to, to fourteen years. ha. that song was playing earlier." she made finger guns, pretending to shoot at tony while grinning. "guns n roses."

suddenly (and thankfully) maria walked in. natasha immediately greeted her girlfriend, demanding a kiss. maria complied, although it was chaste, and pulled away when nat tried to deepen it.

"what did you boys do to my girlfriend?" maria asked. "stark, i'm talking to you."

tony cringed. "i may have.. spiked the booze."

she narrowed her eyes. tony was prepared to kiss life goodbye then and there, but natasha sat up and hugged maria, awkwardly given their position. she looked down softly at her girlfriend, before giving tony another glare.

"i'm taking her back to our room," maria announced. "and i am never leaving her alone with you lot ever again."

“that's fair,” echoed steve softly.