#awkward pitter patter

[pitterpatterpursuit]

Soundtrack #2 ep. 5 (2023)

[risuola]

▶ BOUNDARIES — day when Suguru entered the shower with you.

contents: college+roommates!au, lots of skinship — wc. 1385

𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀 𝙈𝙀𝘿𝙇𝙀𝙔 | series masterlist

“Don’t freak out.”

You blame it on the water. Hot, steamy and falling right onto your head, your reaching up face and the hum of it filling your ears. A monotone murmur of drops pitter-pattering and bouncing off your exposed skin — it made you disconnect. A moment of relaxation, and it worked wonders to your body, your tensed up muscles, your clattered thoughts. It quieted you down, made your breath slower, soothed the hectic beat of your heart — effect of an unpleasant confrontation with your classmate in the morning.

A girl upset and nervous, jealous and heated, took it all out on you and you couldn’t do nothing but take it. Wasn’t the first time, certainly not the last as well and over the years you grew to tolerate this sort of events as they were inevitable, they came along the very close friendship you shared with your boys. It’s fine, you always tell them and it is, in fact, fine, but the attack you endured just two hours before was oddly, unnecessarily personal and it stung.

You took it under the shower, making use of the empty apartment — both Satoru and Suguru being out for classes and practice — and just enjoying the sizzling hot water warming your skin. It was comforting, meditative almost, and nearly as soothing as a cuddle session. It felt good. So very good that when the environment changed suddenly, your heart dropped to your stomach.

“Suguru?” Your head snapped to the side, your entire body flinched in shock as the matted glass of the shower doors moved and you caught a frame twice your size entering the tight area of the stall. The sight of your roommate somewhat calmed you down. “What is happening?”

“I’m sorry sweets, I really am, but I called you, knocked, but you didn’t hear and I really need to wash up quick and run,” your friend explained, his tone more frantic than you’re used to and for few moments you watched him, frozen. He was already lathering shower gel over his body. Intense scent of skincare filled in the steamy air with a mixture of fresh seagrass and coconut, and soon you snapped out of the haze.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear,” you said dumbly, still very much confused, confirming his words and shifting a little closer to the wall, making more space for him.

It was awkward — it should be — but somehow, you felt at ease with him there. It was the very first time you saw him fully naked, and vice versa, but Suguru was a safe space and besides a heat that creeped right up your cheeks, that surely got lost in the flush you already had from the hot stream of water, you weren’t too worried. Tearing your eyes off his muscular, strong built — a sculpture carved out of the finest marble — proved itself to be the most difficult as you handed him the showerhead.

“Yeah, I noticed,” he said, already washing off the fluff and bubbles of his shower gel. “They moved the lecture for earlier, I had to cut my training short and I just couldn’t go all sweaty. I’m really sorry sweets, I’ll apologize properly later, okay?”

“It’s all fine. Good luck, Sug,” you offered him a soft smile and took the sprayer back as the man moved to exit. Before he left completely, and despite the rush he was in, he managed to spare a second to press a tender kiss to your temple.

It wouldn’t be Suguru if he didn’t make time to smother you with love.

“You’re gorgeous by the way. See ya later!” And he was gone, just like that, leaving you flushed and so very confused, in a cloud of heated condensation and empty cage of tiles.

* * *

Few hours passed until the lonely, quiet apartment filled up with the playful banter that seems to never end whenever your roommates are together — which is a lot. You were already in bed, nuzzled against the pillows and wrapped in blankets. Tired. You were so tired after that day, the few classes you had to attend to after the shower sucked the life out of you. It piled up — the tension between you and your classmate, the unannounced test from one of the subjects you don’t particularly like nor study for, the rain that caught you in the middle of your relatively short way home from the college and the absurdly microscopic amount of cheese in the absurdly overpriced cheese sandwich you bought in a rush. Should’ve taken the ham.

But the day was soon over and it’s a matter of minutes now until you’ll be able to truly rest in a safe and moderately suffocating embrace of long limbs and warm bodies. The sleeping dilemma that at first seemed to be the greatest worry about the apartment, now was your favorite aspect of it — you often find yourself longing for the late night hours, especially on days like this one. You like the everlasting amount of heat that your friends produced and even though you were often trapped or squished, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Hey,” a soft, honey-like tone reached your ears and forced you to lift up the heavy eyelids. You smiled seeing Suguru’s gorgeous features and feeling his fingers along your cheekbone. “Are you angry at me?”

“Huh? Why?” You asked, moving towards him, lifting your head just slightly to study him more. He looked troubled, worried and you couldn’t place it. What was the reason?

“For the shower situation from earlier?”

“Oh… no, god, absolutely not,” you shook your head and dropped the weight of it back onto the pillowy clouds. “I don’t care if you see me naked, don’t worry about it.”

“Either way, I bought you the chocolate you like so much.”

Chocolate.

“The diabetic bomb?”

“Yeah, that one,” the boy smiled and showed you the gift. A bar of the most divine chocolate you’ve ever eaten — expensive too — filled with sinfully decadent, luscious coconut mousse and little pieces of gooey caramel chunks. A diabetic bomb, as Suguru always mocks it, because in a scale from zero to ten, its sweetness is easily a sixteen.

Suguru ripped the package open and broke off a piece, putting it into your waiting mouth and you moaned. It was sublime, it was posh and sensual. It could easily be an aphrodisiac. A heaven, melting slowly on your tongue, spreading its glory across your very soul and you melted with it. It felt like a sin, it felt wrong and so, so right.

“You didn’t need to buy me anything, Sug,” you spoke finally, once your senses came back from the trip of pure, primal pleasure. “But I do appreciate it even though I should be the one to apologize. I didn’t hear you.”

“You know that I wouldn’t push your boundaries like that if it wasn’t so very urgent.”

“I know and also, I told you already, I don’t care about any of you seeing me naked,” you said it again, reaching your hand to brush a piece of his bangs away from his eyes. He smiled and for a moment his eyes drifted away and you kind of knew what to expect.

“Who’s naked?” Satoru’s cheerfully cocky voice cut through the gentle atmosphere like a lovable razor and you felt the bed yielding underneath his weight as he climbed on and dropped right behind you. His body pressed tightly to your backside, his arm wrapped securely around your blanket-wrapped form and he pulled you towards himself, leaning his head over your shoulder and smothering your cheek with kisses. Affectionate. Suffocating. “I heard our roomie had a bad day, huh?”

“It’s fine now,” you chuckled, reaching up and ruffling his white, short hair, messing it up even more than it already was.

“Our poor little mochi, it’s alright now,” he cooed, teasingly sweet and then, in his very usual behavior, he tried to bite your cheek but you were quicker, stuffing his open mouth with a piece of chocolate. Suguru managed to roll his eyes and left you unattended with a bar of divine candy and your gluttonous friend. “Oh my god that is good.”

Safe to say, the chocolate didn’t stand a chance against you and Satoru.

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[eternalizms]

18+ mdni.

THE SOUND OF TRICKILING WATER, accompanied by the little gasps and moans leaving you was music to his ears. hot water rained down your back, steam radiating off of your skin and swirling into the clammy air. wet hair tickled your stomach as spencer’s tongue dragged up your clit, earning a whine with his name attached.

the shower wall made an awkward squeak as your back arched against it, the bare skin of your thighs wrapped around your boyfriend's face, your legs now abandoned over his shoulders. his hands kept you pinned against the wall with minimal effort; his mouth continuing to worship you. spencer buried his face deeper between your thighs - each desperate moan you make only encouraging him further.

you were under his complete control, hypnotised. a whimper left your lips, his eyes burning holes into you, intoxicated at the sight of you in every way humanly possible. spencer held eye contact, your fingers swiped the dripping curls off his forehead, tugging on his soaked hair; pools of water forming between your fingers as they squeezed. “spence, fuck- please.” you begged through strained breaths, every muscle in your body on fire with the way his tongue worked on you.

you gasped, a rush of cold air hitting your pussy as spencer pulled his mouth off, a string of your wetness and spencer's drool connecting you both. “sound so pretty baby, so so pretty." he mumbled, half-lidded eyes staring up at you. the sight alone made you throb. your hips rolled forward in a desperate attempt to create some form of friction, the most pathetic whine leaving your chest. your boyfriend happily obliged when you pulled him back into you, his messy hair still tightly wrapped between each of your fingers.

eager to please as always, spencer circled his the tip of his tongue up your clit, dragging back down before continuing to devour you. the hot water running down your skin, in combination with the warmth of spencer’s mouth against your very sensitive clit left your mouth agape, eyes rolling back with a pant; your own breathless needy moans echoing throughout the steamed up tiled walls.

your head flew back against the bathroom wall, thighs clenching around spencer's head as every muscle tightened. he groaned against you in pure bliss; sending vibrations onto you that pushed you over the edge. desperate, whiny sounds bounced from wall to wall as a leg-trembling orgasm washed over you. his firm hand's kept you pinned on the wall - supporting your weight as you rode it out. his tongue never faltered, eyes drinking in the sight of you cumming all over his face. he thinks he might be the hardest he's ever been, another explicit low groan came from his parted lips - glistening from your sweet pussy.

your boyfriend let you recover whilst shamelessly watching your tits bounce, ego heavily boosted by the desperate mess he left you. now very out of breath, your chest heaved up and down. reassuring you were okay, concern briefly crossing his face; hazel eyes searching you for any signs of discomfort whatsoever.

your thumb reaching to smooth out the familiar wrinkle between his furrowed brows. your droopy half lidded eyes met spencer's, consoling his worries with the sweetest smile he's sure he'll ever see. with the help of his hands, you very slowly got off of him; legs still faintly shaking. your feet made a small splash in the water pooling below, sliding off of spencer's shoulders.

your boyfriend finally got up off of his knees, small red patches covering his kneecaps. hands immediately finding their way to cup your face, hushing your mutters of concern over his huge knee injuries he had just sustained. gentle kisses feathered all over your tired face, landing a sweet laugh from you. the light pitter-patter of water against the tiles filled the tranquil silence. a hum against your sticky damp skin, a quiet confession of his love.

he reached around you, damp skin brushing against yours. the familiar click of your shampoo bottle coming from behind you. spencer's long arm's laced around you as he disperses some product into his hands - emulsifying it between his palms before-hand. of course, being who he is, he took it upon himself many months ago to research the best way to wash hair.

long fingers carefully combed the shampoo suds through, ensuring not to cause even one tug on your delicate scalp. a slight moan left your lips, instantly relaxing as his hands worked like magic. any tension you previously had melted away at his touch. taking care of you like this was just second nature to him. he had so much love and care to give, which you graciously accepted at all times.

warm water ran over you both as he rinsed your hair, white soapy suds drip down your spine; head tilted back under the running water. spencer's hand finds its way to your forehead, preventing the suds from getting into your eyes. with zero objection from you, he begins to shampoo your hair for a second time; he read somewhere shampooing the hair twice cleanses it more thoroughly, and leaves a healthier scalp.

his fingers worked lightly, as if you were a porcelain doll ready to break at any minute. finishing rinsing his second shampoo out, he combs a hair mask throughout the ends of your hair; making sure it's evenly distributed throughout. you often think that if the FBI didn't work out for him, spencer would make a phenomenal professional hair washer, if that's even a real thing.

his arms scooped you up, connecting you both in a slow kiss. your pillowy lips pressed against his, further luring him deeper into your kisses. his breath tickled beneath your nose. "did so well, sweetheart." he mumbled into the kiss, hands keeping you deliciously close, finger-tips digging into the soft flesh of your waist.

[perlelune]

Training Wheels | Coriolanus Snow | vii.

Your mother's macabre work never appealed to you as you always preferred the comfort of your books, but when her apprentice takes a special interest in you, your safe, quiet world is flipped upside down.

Warnings: DUB-CON, NON-CON, Gaul!Reader, Shy Reader, Manipulation, Parental Neglect, Drinking, Peer Pressure, Hazing, University set, Loss of Virginity, Dumbification, Insecurities, Abusive Relationship, Degradation, Suicide Attempt

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

A heavy breath flows from your lips as you grip the edge of the sink. Your gaze lands on your reflection. Your chest seizes. Your fingers trail the path of bruises and bites Coriolanus scattered on your cheek and neck. A flash of his body shoving yours into the mattress crosses your mind, his throaty moans, his smell clogging your senses. A shiver races along your spine. You step back from the glass until your back collides with the opposite wall. You slump onto the floor. You glance at the bathroom door, thankfully locked. You need a minute on your own. You bury your head between your knees, body shaking as you wrangle with a sudden rush of emotions.

Only vague snippets of the night before remain in your mind. Still, you believed him when he stated you didn’t say no. You’re fairly sure that the word never passed your lips. So how could he divine thoughts you didn’t express? 

Coriolanus isn’t a mind reader.

Especially when you sounded so needy and desperate, rambling about never being kissed.

He probably misread you, assuming this is what you wanted.

In truth, he gave you exactly what you asked for. Perhaps even begged for, though your memory is a little foggy.

You rise on quivering legs, deciding to shelve the upsetting musings aside. You’re a virgin no longer. It’s a good thing…isn’t it? For years, you thought no one wanted you, that you would never experience what others did. That you’re too plain, attractive, weird and awkward. And you suppose, in his own way, Coriolanus proved you wrong last night. You keep convincing yourself of that, playing the words in an assuaging loop as you shed the dress and step into the shower stall.

The scalding water pelting your skin casts a balm over your stormy thoughts. You hiss when it stings in certain places, the ones where Coriolanus left marks that are still visible.

Your gaze drifts down. As you watch blood trickle from between your thighs and swirl down the drain, your stomach clutches. 

You cling to the bathroom tiles, breaths growing heavier. 

Panic escalates inside you. For a few minutes, you remain this way. Steam surrounds you as you spread your fingers over the wall. Hot tears drip down your cheeks, melding with the water sliding along your bruised flesh. 

By the time you step out of the stall, your skin is pruned from how much time you spent in the shower. Much longer than usual. Furiously rubbing and scrubbing at your flesh, as if your shame and disillusionment could be washed off like grime and dirt. Shaken off like a bad dream or a pesky thought.

When you trudge outside of the bathroom in your robe, Coriolanus is on the bed, waiting for you as he said he would. You fidget beneath his stare. He rises and approaches you.

“I should probably take a shower too. I’m filthy,” he observes, his nose scrunching as he sniffs his shirt. 

“Sure. Go ahead. I’ll…get dressed.”

You try not to flinch when he drops a quick, chaste kiss atop your head. 

“Thanks, angel.” 

He disappears in the bathroom. The pitter-patter of the shower fills the room, ropes of steam escaping through the crack at the bottom of the door. Your shoulders sag. You allow yourself to relax, using that reprieve to sift through your clothes until you find a decent outfit. Your spirits dim. The state of your closet is beyond desolate. It didn’t bother you before. After all, no one cared what you wore. But now, you realize how much it matters. You don’t want to be a blight upon Coriolanus’ perfect image. He’s always dressed so well.  

After a lengthy internal debate, you settle on a long, black dress at the very bottom of your wardrobe. One you bought on a whim but wouldn’t have worn in a million years before. Elegant, flowy and flaring at the waist. You’re grateful for the long sleeves and high collar that will conceal the marks Coriolanus left on your skin. 

You don’t want anyone to see. And, if possible, you don’t want anyone to know.

It likely was a one time thing. After all, Coriolanus has his pick of girls from Uni to choose from. So many who have been batting their eyelashes at him since the year began. He’d never go for someone like you. No, he’d rather court somebody like Livia or Persephone. Even Clemmie would be a far better match for him. 

It must be as he explained. He got lost in the moment. You surmise this happens sometimes when people are drunk. They do things they wind up regretting afterwards. 

You go to your bedroom door, bemused when you find it locked. 

As soon as the door opens, Walter leaps into your arms. He meows loudly, rubbing his face against yours while licking his paws. You chuckle. 

“Hey, buddy. Let’s get some food in you, okay?”

You pad across the living room with Walter clinging to your neck. You grimace as you walk, an ache still radiating in your lower body whenever you move. 

You note that his bowl is still half-full, meaning that Coriolanus must have fed him like you asked. A sliver of relief flutters through you. You felt so guilty for not returning home earlier. The ginger ball of fur is reluctant to part from you, his claws sinking into your collarbone.

“Walter,” you admonish. “I’m not going anywhere. Don’t worry.” 

He ends up allowing you to put him down. You sigh as you fill his bowl with dry meat and fish leftovers. You know how anxious Walter can get when you’re not around. You sometimes wonder if it’s because of the time he spent in your mother’s lab, being poked and prodded. Does his memory even go that far back? You genuinely hope not, a shudder coursing through you at the knowledge of how your mother treats her test subjects.

You stroke his fur as he bends down to eat. The familiar softness beneath your fingertips soothes you. 

You’re so distracted that you don’t hear the muffled steps creeping behind you.

“Should we go now?”

You bolt upright, startled by Coriolanus’ abrupt  presence.

“Sure,” you mutter. 

The corners of his lips quirk upward.

“You look pretty,” he says, prowling forward.

“T-Thank you,” you stammer in response.

Without thinking, you stagger backward, your stomach flipping when he matches your steps. Your back hits the counter. 

The blond crowds your space, placing his hands on each side of the countertop. Your heart misses a beat beneath his ponderous scrutiny. 

He cocks his head, his index finger outlining the buttons of your collar.

“It looks a bit uptight though, doesn’t it?” Amusement sways in his cobalt orbs. “Why cover so much skin?”

He flicks the first two buttons with his finger and the top of your collar comes loose, revealing some of the hickeys on your neck. Gasping in shock, you rush to button it back.

“Coriolanus…” you chastise.

He snatches your wrists before you can fix your dress, his intense gaze ensnaring yours.

“Are you trying to hide them?” 

Fire blooms in your cheeks.

“I don’t want people to see and gossip,” you reply quietly.

When he inches closer, his potent scent fills your nostrils.

“Let them gossip. Only useless people do that.” His inflection is dismissive, final. His smile broadens. “You shouldn’t hide. You and I had a wonderful time. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“O-Okay.”

He leans to plant a soft, slow kiss on your lips.

He strokes the side of your head. Long, lithe fingers attach to your collar. He undoes more buttons until a hint of cleavage is exposed. You don’t protest or argue this time, girdling your breath until he’s done. His eyes roam over you, satisfaction lighting his handsome features.

His voice is silky smooth as it pours from his lips.

“There. Much better.”

Just like last time, Coriolanus opens the door of his car for you. 

“Climb in, angel,” he whispers against your ear, making your heart race.

For a while, he drives while humming a soft tune to himself. You twine your hands in your lap, lost in the mayhem of your thoughts. You try to bury last night as far in the depths of your mind as you can, loathing the tendrils of dread coiling around your insides every time a sliver of remembrance slips through. It’s a brand new day. You must look ahead.

Astonishment slithers through you when you realize Coriolanus is headed towards the Corso.

Your head snaps up.

“I thought we were going to the city.”

“We'll stop by the penthouse first.” He turns to you. “I need to change, and check on the Grandma’am.”

“The Grandma’am?”

A soft smile hovers on his lips.

“My grandmother. I live with her and my cousin.”

Your brows knit. Right. Tigris Snow, you believe her name is. You may have seen her and Coriolanus together before. You always thought that was his sister. They both don the signature Snow blonde hair and blue eyes and share the same towering stature.

“Oh. You’re lucky,” you say absently.

He tosses you an inquisitive glance.

“Lucky?”

“To live with your family.” A forlorn smile spreads onto your face, your head dipping. “My mother she’s…she’s never around.”

His brows crumple.

“Truly, never?”

“Never.”

“What about your father?”

Your heart sinks to your feet.

“He…He’s never had any interest in being in my life. He left when I was a baby. Mother says he hates the Capitol and left to start a new life in District One.”

His hand drops over your thigh. His fingers caress you gently as he says, “I’m so sorry, angel. You deserved better, from both of them.”

You shrug, feigning nonchalance despite the prickling in your chest.

“It’s fine. I can’t miss someone I’ve never met.”

His gaze locks with yours.

“Still, it had to be tough, without your parents.”

Uncomfortable, you veer the topic in his direction.

“What about yours?”

You don’t recall ever seeing his parents around either. Neither at the Academy. Nor that first day at the University. Just that statuesque blonde girl around his age you are fairly sure was his cousin.

Coriolanus’ cheek flares, his face hardening.

“Both were killed by rebels…in different ways.”

“Different ways?”

“Yes. My father died while serving and my mother…” He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second before opening them again. When he speaks again, his tone is icier. “She bled out in labor because of those damn rebels.” You flinch, floored by the sheer rancor bleeding in his voice. His lips tighten. “Both she and…my little sister died.”

Your mouth drops. Coriolanus must have been so young when it happened. You and your mother aren’t close, but you can’t picture your life without her in it. Coriolanus lost his so soon and clearly had so much fondness for her. A wave of sympathy fills you. 

“That’s awful. I don’t…I don’t have any words,” you say, tentatively covering his hand with yours. He surprises you by lacing your fingers together. 

“None are needed,” he replies tonelessly. He turns his focus back onto the road, concluding in a matter-of-fact inflection, “It’s why we need the Games. To keep those filthy district rats in their place.”

Your mouth clamps shut. You don’t believe in the Games, finding them needlessly cruel. But your mother and Coriolanus do, actively working together to raise the viewership for next year. 

A wave of queasiness swells within you. 

Silence hangs between you and the blond, not another word leaving your mouths until he arrives at his home.

Coriolanus takes your hand and drags you inside. The two of you make your way through the lobby and up the twelve ornate flights of stairs leading to the Snows’ penthouse. You get lost in the gold and blue patterns swirling beneath your feet.

When he crosses the apartment threshold, he tells you to wait for him and takes long strides towards what you assume must be his bedroom.

You awkwardly linger by the entrance, your eyes meandering about. Everything looks recently renovated, a veil of tarp hanging by a glass window where some construction still seems underway. You step further inside, pacing across the living room while waiting for Coriolanus.

“Hi, I don’t believe we met.”

You whirl, blinking at the appearance of a stunning, slender blonde bearing an eerie resemblance to Coriolanus.

She smiles at you. You relax, gathering that this must be the cousin he mentioned. Tigris Snow.

“We haven’t,” you say.

She studies you. “You must be something special for Coriolanus to bring you around.”

“I-I doubt it,” you reply with a shrug.

She shakes her head.

“My cousin’s never brought any other girls here. Some friends visited but…no one like you.”

“No one like me?”

Sadness flickers over her delicate features briefly before she approaches you.

“Just be careful with him, okay?” she whispers, her voice hushed and secretive, almost as if she dreaded being heard. Her gaze lingers on your neck, a frown forming on her brow. “You just seem so nice and sweet. And Coriolanus he…He’s changed a lot lately. So promise me to take care of yourself.”

You’re stumped at first. It seems such a strange thing to say about her own cousin to a perfect stranger. Your forehead creases.

“Changed in what way?” you can’t help but ask.

Her mouth opens to form a reply but the loud clearing of someone’s throat forestalls whatever she was about to say.

You both whip your heads at the same time.

“Tigris,” Coriolanus says tersely while smoothing the cuffs of his shirt. He’s wearing a fresh new suit, his platinum locks neatly slicked back as always. “I see you two met.”

Tigris blanches. She gives you a quick hug.

“I hope to see you again,” she says before scampering out of the room.

“Me too,” you respond, still perplexed by the peculiar exchange.

Coriolanus turns to you.

“Is everything alright?”

“Of course. Why?”

He takes a step forward, a strange look on his face you can’t read.

“Tigris didn’t say anything strange to you, did she?”

“No, nothing,” you instantly reply. You kick yourself inwards. Why did you lie? You can’t even say yourself. Pure instinct drove the answer out of you.

He tilts up your chin, his intense blue eyes plunging into yours.

“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, angel? If she said something, I mean.”

The drumming of your heart grows deafening.

You yield beneath the weight of his unflinching stare, words tearing from your tongue in a nervous heap.

“She told me to be careful,” you confess.

He snickers. But even as he laughs, you note the way his gaze hardens ever-so-slightly. He doesn’t like that Tigris said that to you, you realize. You should have kept your mouth shut.

His thumb sweeps over your bottom lip.

“I’m glad that you told me,” he croons, his tone much softer than before. “I hope you know that you can trust me, angel. Always.”

“I know,” you mumble, sinking in the sea of his gaze as he cradles your face.

[yawarakaizai]

pm!dazai taking reader on a date after school, but it’s somehow awkward! tried to get you a stuffie from a claw machine but failed miserably, so he shot the glass out of frustration.. something like that hehe ☆〜（ゝ。∂）

ⵌ HANGIN' OUT THE PASSENGER SIDE OF HIS BEST FRIEND'S RIDE

SENDER Reader (Fem) RECIPITENT PM Dazai Osamu (BSD) CONTENTS You were a horrible pair. You two were unlikely and the path ahead of you could have never predicted such thing to happen. You aren't sure why or how, but you found yourself the centre of Osamu Dazai's attraction. NOTE fluff, reader and dazai are 16/17, brief chuuya, jealousy, young love COMPANY No Scrubs

A/N wrote th is thro ughou t th e sch ool d ay ;3; forgi ve any mist a kes or rush ed writ ing !!! eeeeeeE EEEE i lov requ ests ٩(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)۶

It was embarrassing at this point.

You disliked bringing any sort of unwanted attention to yourself more than anything else. And yet, you owe it to the brunette by your side who attracted stares like a magnet.

" Owwh, fuck! " His drawn out swear accompanied by the stomping of his shoe against the carpeted floor. It's biometric, vibrant patterns splattered across a dark black background sickened you to stare for too long.

" I told you, these are a scam ", you attempted to protest against his insistence that he was sure to win this time, no take-backs. " Why not buy a ticket to the bowling alley instead of wasting it on these? " You remained temperate in opposition to his rowdy and indecent behaviour. You adopted the traits of an older sister, or a mother.

" No way! I spent too much to give up now. " Your head ached. " Look, if I keep inching it closer to the drop, I'll be sure to get it. "

And so, the poor joystick would continue to be abused, 200 yen being inserted into the comparator with every miss, Dazai's agitation growing with each failure.

It had been a sultry evening after school. Gathering your belongings and preparing to take the daily commute home, the pitter-patter of heavy footsteps ran behind you to reveal none other than Dazai Osamu.

He was somewhat of an enigma to everyone who knew him, even those that never exchanged a word with him knew of his name.

Dazai had a horrible track-record and even worse attendance. With a mysterious bandage over his right eye.

Despite his lack of punctuality and participation in classes, he not once has ever failed an exam. Many rumours circulated that he'd cheat - though no evidence of such was ever received. Others thought he must've slept his way to good grades.

Or, he was just inhumanely intelligent.

" Y/N! Y/N! " His ecstatic voice beckoned you to stop walking as he had finally caught up to you, bending over to catch his breath. " Let's visit the arcade together! "

You didn't know what possessed you to accept.

" Oy! Leave 'er alone, moron. Some people actually have work to get to after school. "

And there was his companion, Chuuya. Underestimating him is like a death wish. He was short. Horribly, unfortunately short. Sometimes, you'd feel bashful for the fact he'd have to look up at you sometimes.

Unlike Dazai, Chuuya's absence from school wasn't intentional.

No, not at all. Chuuya never missed a day of school on his own accord. His record full of missed days were from suspensions.

Often getting into fights with anyone, he has never lost a fight.

The duo had a dynamic you couldn't quite grasp.

And then there was you in the middle of it all.

Dazai had lured you into the friend-group about two years ago, when you were all put in the same base class and Dazai, in his extroverted glory, made attempts to suck up to all in class.

You listened to how the girls would swoon and whisper amongst themselves about the legend that was Dazai Osamu, and once he reached you, you couldn't be less impressed than what he had to offer.

" Oh, c'mon Y/N! It won't take too long, we never hang out anymore! "

His sad attempt at desperate puppy eyes lightened your day a little, so you thought you should humour him, just this once.

You didn't know much about Dazai and Chuuya's private life and you didn't pry into the territory either.

All you knew was that they were filthy rich and had a connection to the principal, Ogai Mori. Otherwise, they would've been expelled a long time ago.

" Let it go, Dazai. It's not worth it. " You put your hand on his shoulder as he leaned forward, nose barely touching the glass of the claw machine as he tried to focus on getting just what he wanted.

" But you looked at it! " He whined, digging into his pockets as the machine played a sound of defeat. " And? "

" And that means I need to get it for you! "

He insisted profusely that it'll be worth it, and you continued to doubt him. You've been standing by his side for thirty minutes at this point and not once has he won a prize.

You remarked to him that the game was purposely rigged, pointing out how weak the claw was and estimating the plushies within were weighing a little over the maximum capacity something so weak would be able to grasp for more than two seconds. That, and also how the claw would never close properly, inching in barely and dropping what toy it had luckily managed to hold onto.

And that degrading sound of humiliation. A squeaky, robotic coquettish voice repeating itself 'Better luck next time!' over and over.

Dazai was not losing to a machine.

Your stomach grumbled with hunger, and it was becoming clear that you both were growing with unrest at this machine.

" You kids still going at that? "

An arm propped itself on top of the roof of the claw machine, you looked up to see a worker had made his way over to you both. Dazai, did not look up from the game.

" I tried to get him to stop ", you mumbled, looking away from him. You'd always get shy at people older than you. You weren't exactly timid, but you were raised to be respectful. " He wants to win it for me. " It sounded oddly romantic when you put it that way.

" Yeah? You sure he can do it? " The man laughed at the truth. " So you two are on a date? " He overstayed his welcome and you began to wonder if it was usual for employees to wedge themselves into customers business.

" Yeah. We are. " Dazai answered for you, slotting in more coins for yet another try.

" Here, move li'l man, I got this. " Shoving Dazai away by the hip, the white-haired man. Begrudgingly, Dazai said nothing.

And almost with no effort at all, the man easily got the claw to clasp around the exact seal plush you wanted.

He must have been watching you both for a while to know what you wanted.

Although you kept assuring Dazai you didn't need it, you couldn't help the way your eyes sparkled as the man handed it to you with a smug smile.

" Oh! Thank you, sir! Thank you! " You took it from his hand with joy, looking at the fat cushion with adoration. It was simply adorable! You bowed your head repeatedly in gratitude, though felt it was simply not enough.

You almost forgot about Dazai until your ears deafened with the sound of a loud bang and the crashing of glass.

On impulse, you dropped to your knees with your hands over your ears protectively, unsure as to what just happened. Peeking through your tightly shut eyes, you saw that you were the only one to have dropped down and everyone else was as normal as ever.

Before you were even able to question, you uncovered your ear to hear Dazai converse with the man.

" How sad, I guess when you're making minimum wage you figure out how to make your job interesting. " Dazai cocked his pistol like second nature, and behind the legs of the employee you were crouched behind, you peered between his legs up at Dazai with wide, lost eyes.

Looking down at you, Dazai looked pissed.

" Didn't mean to scare you. Get up, we're leaving. "

The employee and Dazai seemed to know each other. You figured by the way the older man was cool about the whole ordeal, almost like he'd done everything intentionally.

You shakily rose to your feet, at a loss for words, and stared with astonishment as Dazai began to gather multiple stuffed toys from the now-broken claw machine and hold them in his arms after tucking his pistol away.

" But- you- the- "

You tripped over your words and found yourself unable to comprehend what had just happened.

" Not gonna run way with your Clyde, Bonnie? " The employee joked, stepping out of your way.

You felt this to be illegal. Maybe because it was. You did not want to aid in a robbery even if the employee was not actively stopping you. Before you could even act, Dazai grabbed you by the arm and ran ahead of you, dragging you behind him as he laughed, your other arm held tightly around the seal plush, afraid to let it go.

" Holy shit, I was so cool! " He shrilled, your shorter legs barely able to keep up with his strides.

" Dah-zai! " You panted out as he kept on running.

Your adrenaline rang in your ears and the heart in your chest beat rapidly as the two of you ran, jumped, hopped over valleys, onto the stepping stones of the river and through the bushes of the dark forest.

" Y/N! "

Dazai yelled out to you. At this point, many plushies in his arms had fallen, yet your intertwined hands never once budged open.

" Whah! Wh-What! " You tried to match his energy, but you were far too exhausted.

Finally, you both collapsed into the cold grass surrounding by large oak trees.

The night sky looking down on wild star-crossed students.

" I think I.. think I love you, Y/N " He said between deep breaths, both your limbs spread out as you tuned to the sound of crickets, the birds and the rapid breathing of one another.

You didn't know what you were thinking, or if you were even thinking coherently, though..

" I think I love you too, 'samu. "

©yawarakaizai 2023 ﹒﹒ reblogs appreciated! requests open :3

[moonrisecoeur]

thoughts on this post aka detective leon and serial killer reader. warning for dark content obvi, mentions of weapons, blood, bodies, murder. also sub leon makes an appearance as usual lol. fem!reader too!!

sorry for the wait lol i’ve been folding laundry anyway let me cook

you know that fucking cop is onto you, he knows more than you want him to but for some reason, even when you know you’ve messed up and are sure you’re gonna be caught, you’re not. no one knows about the evidence you accidentally left behind, clues that trace back to you. when you go back to try and ruin the crime scene to throw the police off the scent, it’s all gone. just a dead body and all of the blood you love to spill.

it bugs you a little bit. where did it go? but you watch as the cops search the crime, hiding in the bushes behind the house when you see the cop you… you just know is the one who did it. he looks like he’s seen that crime scene already, and there’s something bunched into his pocket. that looks almost like your glove that got caught on something and left behind as you were escaping.

you realize he’s looking you dead in the eyes as you make painfully awkward eye contact with him. he smirks and looks away. you wonder why he isn’t telling his colleagues about how he saw you, you wonder why he seems almost amused by you. it’s driving you mad.

you’ve seen him before. you recognize him now. you don’t know his name, but he’s got blonde hair, long enough to cover his blue eyes. looks like a doll. he’s a detective, always showing up to crime scenes in those pretty, expensive suits. he wears a nice watch, cleans himself up well.

you get your hands on his file, all of his records, the time he spent as a patrol officer, back when he was younger. his hair was shorter then. his eyes a bit brighter. he was cute. and now… he’s much more than that. he’s distinguished.

—

leon saw you once, before you could run out when you realized the cops were coming in. he remembers how you looked. bloody, gloved hands holding a kitchen knife. you didn’t see him, but he saw you. he sees you again in the bushes, and you see him this time. it’s a moment where everything stops, and leon feels his dead heart pitter pattering like it hasn’t done in years.

you kinda lose the light in your soul when you become a detective. he’s more somber now than he was when he was on patrol, but what can you do?

he finds out everything he can about you, cross referencing the evidence he finds that everyone else seems to miss with every little thing he can gather, in hopes of figuring out your name, or anything about you, honestly.

he’s come to the conclusion that your sloppiness is caused from the pleasure you take in killing. you leave too much evidence behind, too many clues, christ it’s like you want to be caught, but leon can’t help but be fond of you now that you’re intentionally leaving clues for him to find. little messages like ‘for my favorite detective, ♡’ on notecards next to the body. no one knows what you mean. leon’s becoming more obsessed by the minute.

he’s learned everything about you, every motive, every killing, why, when, how you did it all, and his coworkers know nothing. they’re not even sure how many you’ve killed, much less know anything about you.

it’s betraying his morals, sure, but who really cares? he’s killed people before, he’s no better than you. sure, he tried to convince himself he did it to protect the innocent, but he’s got his own thirst for blood. can’t really blame you for doing for fun what he does for work. you lose your morals anyway when you’re a detective.

he covers for you, gives excuses and ideas to lead the other detectives in the wrong direction. destroys evidence for you. lies for you. he’s desperate for you attention, and he finally gets it when you come into the police station.

you’re not disguised, not dressed to hide your identity. you look.. normal. you smile at the person working the front desk. you’re polite, charming, courteous. leon almost passes you by before double taking and realizing that it’s you.

“well, hello, it’s nice to meet you, detective kennedy,” you smile, reaching out your hand for him to shake, which he does awkwardly. you realize that he’s a lot less cool than he seemed when you first saw him. his lack of social skill is almost charming.

“are you… what are you doing here? are you turning yourself in o-or something?”

“i wanted to see you,” you say simply to him.

he blinks, confused.

“do you want to speak with me? or should i just go, detective?”

“i.. i think we should talk,” he smiles back eventually, “i want to talk to you. really talk.”

you meet him later, after his shift. you tell him your story, your motives. even though he knows them, he lets you talk. he likes listening to you. he tells you about his work, what he’s done to protect you, and when you ask why, he shrugs, “you’re too pretty for prison.” he matches your bluntness.

it takes everything in you not to burst out laughing, amused by leon kennedy’s mind, how his brain even works.

he continues, “but listen, if you’re gonna keep… you know, killing people, you need to run it by me after the fact. i need to get there and make sure there’s no evidence that other detectives will find. don’t worry, i’ll get you a burner phone and everything. just call me when you do it. i’ll help.”

“hmm.. alright. now.. do i owe you anything for your.. protection, detective? should i.. show you how appreciative i am that you’re helping me get away with murder?” you lean in close, suggestively. leon can’t help that he’s easy to seduce.

“i.. i think you don’t owe me anything, but.. if you’d like..” he stutters. you smile. he’s so cute to play with.

he takes you back to his place. you tell him he wouldn’t like yours, with the victim you have tied to a chair in your bedroom. he raises an eyebrow, and you try to calm his worries by saying, “its fine, i drugged him so he wouldn’t wake up until tomorrow… do you wanna watch me torture him?”

“i’m… okay, baby,” he says, his voice gravelly and soft at the same time.

you hook up obviously when you get back to his apartment, and it’s the best sex of his life. maybe it’s because he likes dominant women already, but there might also be something thrilling about a woman putting her hands around his throat who’s very well capable of squeezing until he stopped breathing entirely.

thankfully, you don’t asphyxiate him. you lay in his bed with him afterwards, and there’s something so strangely normal about the way you curl up into his side as he draws shapes on your back with his fingertips.

“are you ever.. gonna kill me?” he asks, out of the blue, stirring you from your drowsy state.

you look up at him, and he’s worried you’re considering it. there’s a gun on his nightstand. he panics. you would never get away with it, he’s sure. your dna is all over his body, his clothes, his apartment, surely you’re not that sloppy of a killers.

“i haven’t decided yet,” you say simply, resting your head on his chest.

“o-oh…”

you chuckle, sensing anxiety and tension in his body at your response to his question, “i would only ever do it if i thought you were gonna betray me or something, pinky promise. no matter how… beautiful you would look dying..”

he gulps, and you feel endeared by his fear. he’s.. cute when he’s nervous.

the next day, he wakes up. he puts on another suit, and another fancy watch. he drives you home before he goes to work, and he kisses your forehead before he gets back into his car, “am i gonna be seeing you again tonight?” he asks.

you chuckle, “i’m counting on it, handsome. trust me when i say i look very good in red.”

[mariofyuu]

𝐓𝐨 𝐃𝐫𝐲 𝐑𝐚𝐢𝐧 [𝐘𝐮𝐭𝐚 𝐎𝐤𝐤𝐨𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐗 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

"Don't cry little one, for the sun will come and dry your tears."

✰Tags: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Unrequited Love, Established Relationship, One-Shot

✰Summary: Yuta Okkotsu is afraid of two things; thunderstorms, and losing you.

✰W/C: 1.2k

✰C/W: Mentions of Trauma, nightmares, and thunderstorms

✰A/N: A quick one shot that I thought of during a thunderstorm.

The sound of pouring rain in a midnight storm filled the tiny cramped area of a dorm room. A huddled body shivered beneath a bundle of covers, the size being almost comedic considering the childlike action. He wasn't always afraid of the dark. It was just on nights like this, after a particularly scary mission, when the abyss seemed to pull him in.

Chest heaving and sweat forming on his brow, Yuta Okkotsu, a special grade sorcerer, slowly came to the acceptance that he was still afraid of thunderstorms. Small hiccups could be heard underneath the sheets, now becoming stained with the tears flowing heavily down his jaw and onto the bed below.

She'd often asked him, "Why do you always look so sleepy?". He'd give her a reply with an awkward half smile, saying "I just end up thinking so much, it keeps me up."

Which was partially true. He'd be thinking about her, her eyes. The way they sparkled when they'd grace his with a prolonged gaze, when she'd eat something she likes, or when she'd listen to her favorite song.

But soon her golden sunshine-like glance would turn into a downpour of bloody rain, the light fading into a series of traumatic memories that plagued him. He was sure they'd follow him to his grave, if he'd ever find the peace of one.

Then the worrying would start. The what if's of their job, of their life's purpose filling his mind like a poison that never fully worked its way out of his system. Those piling thoughts of 'what if' would mostly continue with the word 'she'. Even in his deepest, most terrifying memories, they only remained scary because they could repeat again. They could repeat with her.

And that's why in the sound of a rain storm, that reminded him so much of that day, did Yuta sob her name quietly into his pillow. Except it wasn't as quiet as he'd thought it was.

Suddenly the pitter patter of water on his window was replaced with quick footsteps. Oh so familiar footsteps.

Slamming the door open she came in like a whirlwind, even under his blankets he could imagine her expression. The same one she'd wear whenever he was injured in battle, or whenever he'd burn his tongue on his tea because he sipped without thinking. That adorable, worried, brow furrowed face would be the death of him.

"Okkotsu?!"

Her usually chipper voice was tinged with concern. His body freezing in place. How utterly humiliating.

"H-Here.." He mumbled out, lifting the bedding from over his head and sitting up. Yuta was correct of course, her brows were furrowed and her lips turned down. Her eyes widening as she noticed the tears still trickling down his cheeks.

"So you were crying" The sentence came out just above a whisper. That pretty gaze fixed totally on him, but its sparkle was replaced with worry. It sent a ripple of guilt through his body, akin to the lightning going off outside, the feeling making his stomach drop. God forgive him if he were to ever make her sad.

No use in denying it, but he couldn't help but wonder how she got up there from the second floor so fast. Or maybe he'd been crying longer than he realized. His mind was foggy with sleep deprivation and the need to flinch at the thunder claps sounding every few minutes. Still, Yuta tried to give her a sleepy smile to ease both the awkwardness and his own nerves.

"I had a nightmare, I'm sorry I woke you. I completely forgot your room is right under mine" He was lying through his teeth like it was second nature. Anything to make her stop looking at him like that.

Luckily for him, she was never the type to push in unless he allowed it. Always respecting boundaries and letting him come to her. Maybe that's why he fell in love with her to begin with.

Instead of asking him more questions, she merely sat beside him. Turning to face him in her usual criss-cross sitting fashion. That sparkle returned, her hands suddenly going to cup his cheeks. Well, maybe she wasn't good with all boundaries..

"Eh?" It was practically a squeak as her delicate hands pressed to his face.

"Don't cry little one, for I am here to stay. Don't cry little one, the rain will go away. The thunder will sleep and the lightning will disappear. Don't cry little one, for the sun will come and dry your tears."

Her voice was soothing, like a pure river flowing to cover his entire body. Except instead of cool water, she covered him in warmth. Hands moving away from his face and sliding down to wrap her arms around his back. The sorcerer felt himself relax all at once, tears building again in the corners of his eyes. Like a dam that was about to burst.

One that'd been built over 10 years ago and was finally cracking because of her. He tried to hold himself together, worrying the overflow would drown out her light. But as soon as her head laid on his shoulder, and she started to whisper that everything would be okay, Yuta found himself pouring it all out to her.

He pulled her into his chest tightly, his face pressed into her hair as he breathed her in. Long, heavy sobs escaping him as the waves of grief he'd been holding back washed down his features. His usually quiet, gentle voice turning raspy and strained.

It did shake her, how this often soft spoken, selfless man was breaking to bits in her arms. Not because she judged him, not because she was afraid. But because of how so lonely he must have been. How many nights did Yuta cry himself to sleep here, all alone? How many mornings did he awake more tired than he was before he'd gone to bed? Just how much had he suffered without her fully grasping it?

"It's okay.. I'm here, it'll be okay"

Is all that she could mutter to him between her own tiny sobs. Hands tight in his nightshirt as the two took the brunt of his pain together.

It was almost like for a small moment, he wasn't a Jujutsu sorcerer anymore. He was just him, in her arms, raw and bare before her. She'd stripped any sort of armor he'd covered his heart in, crossed any distance in a single stride. With a single touch of her hand.

It put him in awe as he slowly regained his composure, sniffling and bringing the back of his hand to wipe his eyes. All the weight in his chest from before seemed to diminish while he held onto her. He let out a long sigh before finally, be it reluctantly, letting her go and falling onto his back. His tired eyes looked up at her from below.

She gave him her award winning grin, her eyes meeting her cheeks before closing. He lifted his hand to swipe a tear off her cheek with his thumb, genuinely smiling back at her this time.

"I guess the sun did dry my tears."

He laughed as more drops fell from his dull blue eyes; of which for the first time in years had a glimmer of hope. Sunlight always comes after rainfall, after all.

[archangeldyke-all]

can we plssss get more details about plug!Sevika & reader fucking in the backseat 👁️👁️

eheheheheheheheheehheh

men and minors dni

you sigh happily, reaching across the center console to start scratching at sevika's scalp. she hums, melting against her chair and smiling as her eyes droop closed.

you just had a nice little date night at a local mexican place both of you've been dying to try out. the food was delicious, almost as good as the frozen drinks.

now, you're in your little spot, listening to the rain pitter-patter all around sevika's car as you pass a joint back and forth. the windows are cracked, but only barely, so the whole car is filled with smoke and steam.

"this might be our best date night yet." you mumble around the joint in your mouth. sevika cracks her eye open to smile at you.

"you're kinda easy if some tacos and weed is all it takes, babe." she mumbles. you gasp in faux-offense, and pull your hand away from her scalp.

"sevika! rude! there were drinks involved too!" you defend yourself. she bursts into laughter, then snatches the joint from your lips to take her own hit.

"you really think this is our best one? what about that picnic we went on?" she asks. you hum, considering it.

"it was so hot that day. i was all sweaty and gross." you stick your tongue out in disgust. sevika chuckles. "plus, we couldn't fuck in the park, it was so crowded."

sevika snorts. "remember when those kids almost caught you tryna shove your hands down my pants?" she teases. you groan, mortified at the reminder. "you looked so stupid!" she giggled.

the second you had seen the kids you panicked, and pretended that there was a bug on sevika's crotch that you had been trying to shoo away from her. you quickly pivoted from feeling her up to smacking her clothed crotch and screaming 'there's a bug! there's a bug!'

"ugh, shut up!" you groan, smacking your girlfriend across the car where she cackles. sevika catches your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles. you huff.

"i love you, dumbass." she chuckles. you smile shyly at her.

"love you too, asshole." you mumble. she grins.

"you know, we haven't fucked on this date yet." she says. you giggle.

"we should change that."

sevika laughs, then nods toward the backseat of her car. "shall we?" she asks.

you burst into giggles and then start clambering into the back seat. sevika laughs and smacks your ass as you crawl past her, and you squeal and flail against the back seat. she chuckles as she crawls back after you.

with a few awkward fumbles and some grunts, you and sevika manage to collapse the backseat so it's flat with the trunk, giving you guys space to spread out. sevika's too big to fit in the backseat-- she's gotten way too many cramps and pains from trying to shove herself in the backseat after you in the past.

you've learned from your mistakes, and now you guys always take the time to spread out. it's nice. now, sevika always carries a few blankets and pillows around in the trunk for these moments. you watch as she spreads one out over the surface, then holds an arm out for you. "m'lady." she giggles as she helps you crawl on the blanket. you snort.

sevika lays you down, presses a kiss to your lips, and holds her finger up. "where're you goin'?" you whine as sevika reaches back up to the front seat. she chuckles at your neediness, and you hear the click of the car locks. "oh." you mumble, slightly embarrased. she giggles, then turns back around with a blunt between her lips, flicking a lighter. you laugh. "where'd you even get that!?"

"c'mon babe, you know me. i got stashes everywhere." she laughs as she takes the first puff, then passes it down to you. you take a deep breath, moaning a bit when you realize sevika's bought your favorite wrap flavor.

"'s like candy." you grin as you exhale. sevika takes the blunt from your hands, takes a quick hit, then swoops down to kiss you. you moan against her lips.

you guys get lost in each other. the pitterpatter of the rain outside, the hazy atmosphere of the car, the addictive feeling of her lips on yours-- it isn't until you smell burning that you both pull away with a gasp and start smacking the blanket beneath you where the cherry of sevika's blunt had fallen and started a tiny fire.

"shit!" sevika curses as she giggles and smacks the blanket. "shit. sorry baby." she basfully looks back up at you. you giggle.

"thank fuck you noticed. no more making out while smoking." you decide, for the fifth time this month. sevika nods.

"here." she says, passing you the blunt. "take care of this for me." she whispers, pressing one more kiss to your lips. you take a hit, sighing as sevika starts trailing kisses down your chest. she pushes your shirt up under your armpits, quickly unfastening your bra and pushing it up along with it. you giggle as she starts nipping at your tits, and she smirks up at you. "make sure you don't start a fire with that thing, baby." she mumbles.

it's all the warning you get before she's pushing your miniskirt up your hips and your panties to the side, ducking between your legs to shove her nose right against your cunt and take a deep inhale.

you squeak. "sev!" sevika pulls away with a grin.

"you smell so fuckin' good. god, wish i could just keep my face buried in your cunt all the time. need a perfume of it or something." she mumbles. you giggle, flicking her forehead.

"gross." you laugh. she nips your thigh.

"you're the one who sucks my fingers after i finger myself." she mumbles.

"well! that's 'cause i got the long nails 'n i can't do it myself!" you whine.

sevika licks a stripe up your cunt, and you squeak. the blunt ashes a bit, and you carefully take another hit, sure to hold the cherry over the cupholder instead of the blanket when you pull your hand away. "'m gonna eat you out, then take you home 'n sit on your face." she mumbles.

you nod. then blink in confusion. "wait, why do we have to go home?"

"i'm not hunching over in this tiny ass car, babe."

"just lemme eat you out like this!" you laugh, pointing at the position she's got you in now. she huffs.

"nah. i wanna fuck up all the makeup on that pretty face of yours all myself." she mumbles. the words make you shiver, and you shove your free hand into her hair, pulling her toward your cunt. she chuckles against you for a second, the vibrations making you crazy, and then she gets to work.

when she's sober, sevika eats you out with the single-minded focus of getting you to cum as hard as you can. but when she's high, you think she's in it more for her own pleasure than yours.

she takes her time, licking, sucking, sniffing, nibbling-- she giggles sweetly at each of your reactions and mumbled curses.

the way she moans against you is the same way she hums happily when she's snacking while she's got the munchies. it makes you giggle a bit.

you take another hit and sigh. "i love you, baby." you mumble. sevika shoves her tongue up your cunt as far as she can in response, and you gasp and moan, shivering against the blankets. "fuck, keep doin' that." you whine.

she growls in response. you can feel her drool and your cum pooling under your ass, and even though the car is dark, when she comes up for air you can see the slick shine of your cum covering half of her face. she dives back down with her tongue hanging out of her mouth, panting like a dog. she's so hot you don't know what to do with yourself.

"sevika-- i'm close." you whine. she pulls up, and makes grabby hands for a hit of the blunt. you scoff. "now!?" you ask. she giggles and plucks the blunt out of your finger, takes a hit, and passes it back to you.

"open." she chokes out. you quickly follow her instructions, parting your lips and inhaling as she leans over you, exhaling against your mouth. you sigh the smoke out of your lungs, grin up at her, then giggle when she bites your bottom lip. "okay." she whispers, seemingly satisfied, as she darts back down between your legs.

she picks up right back where she left off, and you're even closer than you were before. "fuck, fuck, fuck." you whimper as you start grinding against her lips. you can feel the curl of her smile pressed against you. "sevika, fuck!" you cry.

she groans as you cum all over her face, licking you up tenderly as you shake through your aftershocks, then sits up with a proud, happy smile when she's done. you giggle.

"so?" she asks. you blink.

"what?" you ask. she chuckles.

"how's this date compare to the others now that you got your rocks off?" she asks. you burst into giggles, pulling her down for a kiss.

"best we've had yet, baby." you mumble.

sevika grins. then, "how long until you're gonna be able to crawl to the front seat so i can take you home and fuck your face?"

you burst into giggles and take a long drag off the blunt, blowing the smoke in her smirking face as your response.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub @glass-apothecary @m0numents @macaroni676 @vixel352

[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: vincent sees a masterpiece in you.

WARNINGS: None!! :D

COMMENTS: GAHHH SHUT UP OKAY SHUT UP. HE'S SO KIND. i havent played hsi route yet but i am brainrotting a little. also i was inspired by myself because i realized how animated i am and i was immediately like "omg an artists muse" bc WOW all my facial expressions and body language could give an artist a career I MOVE TOO MUCH!!!!

anyway yes he's sweet but i don't really know a lot about him. do vincent kissers even exist!??!?!?!

An artist at heart, he’s accustomed to noticing the beauty of everything around him. From the way your eyes widen when you’re surprised to the way they crinkle when you’re happy, from the way your lips stretch across your face when you smile at him to the way they purse when you pout, from the way you drag your hands down your arms when you’re cold and trail them down your legs when you’re stretching, to the way your fingers position themselves around a pen when you’re scribbling out annotations in a cookbook.

Or maybe, he’s just become accustomed to noticing your beauty.

“Vincent.” you call, “You’re staring.”

He makes a soft noise of acknowledgment and flashes you an awkward smile. His eyes fall to the notepad in front of him, and he ignores the way his cheeks flush a tender pink. It’s a lovely feeling, the pitter-patter of his heart in his chest and the shaky breaths that come with knowing you.

He’s in awe of the artist that sketched you out and brought you to life. He's envious of the paints that colored you in. Vincent wishes there was a part of you for him in your masterpiece, a blank space that only he could fill. He would fill you with blues and yellows and browns, he would paint the night sky in your eyes and sunflowers along your legs. Each petal would be delicately sketched out along the flesh of your thigh, and his paintbrush would travel down your calves as he sculpted the stems. He would worship you like you deserve, treat you with reverence, and treasure you like nobody else could.

“Sunflower.” you whisper, right next to his ear, “Are you alright?”

Vincent snaps out of his trance once again, an easy smile falling across his lips. His chair groans against the floor as he pushes away from the table, staring up at you as you stand in front of him.

“Of course. I’m sorry for worrying you.” he says softly, looking up at you through his lashes, “Did you say something?”

“Nothing important.” you smile, like you know exactly what he’s been thinking.

You probably do. Vincent blushes, ducking his head to the side so you can’t see his face.

“Can you come to my room later? After you’re done here?” he asks, reaching out to touch you.

His hands rest on your hips, and you let him pull you closer. Your eyes are full of intrigue, and he knows you'll say yes, but he needs to hear the words from your lips.

“Of course.” you hum, leaning down to his level, “I wouldn’t go anywhere else.”

You kiss his forehead, and his heart stumbles in his chest. Right there, he sees it. He sees you. You’re made up of so many shades of color that belong to everyone you’ve ever met and loved, but right there, on your lips, are swirls of gold and blue.

And as you pull away, he sees sunflowers in your heart.

[pitterpatterpursuit]

In Blossom ep. 26 (2024)

[iwantghostsbigdick]

IM NEW TO TUMBLR AND I SUCK AT WRITING SO GIVE ME TIPS!!!!

you and ghost have to camp out in a very small tent after a mission and he gets all cuddly and soft cause he doesn't like the cold

you scoffed, and slowly shifted into the middle of the bed; wrapping the small amount of covers over yourself- (before theyre snatched away) as you heard the little pitter-patter of the rain hitting against the outside of the tent, how the fog outside crept indoors, making the tent feel icy. Ghosts low gravelly voice growled out from under the balaclava as he leaned up on his arms.

"The rain won’t let up soon. It’s suppose' to d' this for the entire week. The snow' will soon folla.” he said, his mood growing darker as he looked at you.

"I don’t want to sleep near you. Move furtha' over.” he huffed. (def placing up a strong barrier to seem tuff!!)

"Im against the wall of the tent, I'm getting wet." you hiss, glaring at him through his balaclava, obviously taking up more space than he should.

He huffs out a scoff, "Good.” he says in a thick accent in response to your glare. He was laying on his side, only his icy eyes visible.

"You bloody deserve it. If y' moved over more, maybe I’d consida letting y' under th' covers tonigh'.” he added. His tone was sharp and cold, unbothered by the cold weather. He acted like he didnt seem to be phased by it.

His words dug deep, like a knife stabbed into you, but not just deep- it was rooted, and twisting, plunging deeper and staying in that spot painfully.

It hurt to be spoke to like that from someone you respect.

He sat up as you scooted over to the side of the tent, his tone still cold, though the gravelly british accent was softer as he tried to get as close to you as he could without having to lay next to you.

"Don’t gi'me tha' look..” he mumbled, though his voice was a little hard to understand under the balaclava.

Ghost couldn't help but feel a little pity as he glared at you, his jaw clenching and unclenching. His arms stretched out, a little shiver running through his body. With how close you were, you could feel his warmth radiating off of him.

For a moment, Simon thought of when he was a child, how his father treated him, how he was left to rot and freeze.

How he felt abandoned.

His arm extended, a little gesture for you to come closer to him as he saw you shiver.

He was still keeping his balaclava on, but you could tell from the way his expression softened that he was concerned for you.

"Com' ere. You can’t sleep in the cold.” he sighed, his tone still cold, though it was a kinder cold than you had heard from him yet.

Though, his words before stuck in your brain. *If you move over, maybe I’ll consider letting you be under the covers tonight.*

So, you watched as he sat there, not moving, eyes still sharp through the balaclava, but the cold tone gone, the heat radiating off of him made the tent warmer, though still cold.

There was silence between the two of you, Ghost laying there, patiently, waiting for you to comply with his silent gestures.

The balaclava gave him a dark look, like he was glaring through your soul, despite the warmth radiating from his body.

The tent wasn’t large, but with the two of you so close, the warmth was a nice contrast to the chill air. As you inched toward him, his arms moved around you. He wrapped them tight around you, and your body was finally out of the cold air. His body heat flooded over you as you could feel his warm fog against your skin. But Ghost didn't let you out of his grasp,

No, he pulled you closer as his arms wrapped around you. You could feel his chest rise and fall with each breath. He squeezed you tight as he kept you close to him. The rain continued to pelt against the tent as Simon lay with you. He was quiet, he didn't say anything. But this wasn't an awkward type of quiet, this was a good quiet. He didn't need to groan, or scoff, or mumble curses..

He didn't need to. For the first time in a long time, he was content just to hold someone in his arms, to have someone in his presence. His grip was firm on you. His embrace was tight, yet he relaxed with you in his arms.

You could feel his shoulders drop, and his breathing become more shallow and he held you against his vest, like you were a part of him, you were his savior, his lifeline.

(I WROTE THIS IN 45 MINS)

[deliciousangelfestival]

This is just a suggestion. You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, but since you did Bucky and Steve as babies, what about their girlfriends (the reader) as a baby?

Bucky- he would most likely freak out a little and not know how to take care of a baby, but it eventually comes to him

Steve- he would be totally confused and wouldn’t know how to take care of a baby either, but it slowly comes to him

Thank you for the request. I hope you like it.

Main Masterlist

Bucky Barnes : A Soldier's Tender Side

Bucky, the once-intimidating Winter Soldier, now found himself singing lullabies in a voice that could rival any nursery rhyme enthusiast.

Diaper changes became a comical dance between a determined super-soldier and a giggling baby. "You're a little trickster, aren't you?" he chuckled, trying to keep up with the baby's wiggles.

Baby talk flowed effortlessly from Bucky's lips as he engaged in one-sided conversations with the miniature version of his girlfriend.

"You see, doll, in this world of chaos, you and me—we're the tag team," he whispered, receiving toothless smiles in return.

The Avengers witnessed a softer side of Bucky as he navigated the trials of babyhood with a mix of determination and endearing awkwardness.

While navigating the challenges of baby care, Bucky's mind wandered to a future he had never allowed himself to envision.

As he cradled the tiny version of his girlfriend, a gentle smile played on his lips. "Maybe one day, doll, we could have a family of our own," he whispered, his eyes holding a glimmer of hope.

In the quiet moments between missions, Bucky imagined a life beyond the battlefield. He saw himself pushing a stroller through a park, his family by his side, and imagined bedtime stories filled with tales of bravery and love.

The idea of a peaceful, domestic life became a beacon of light in the midst of their tumultuous world.

Steve Rogers : A Bundle of Joy

Steve stared down at the tiny baby in his arms, a perplexed expression on his usually composed face. "Okay, so diapers... how hard could it be?" he muttered to himself.

Little did he know that the challenge of fastening a diaper on a squirming baby would become a daily showdown.

As he attempted to decipher the mysteries of baby talk, Steve found himself engaged in earnest conversations with his miniaturized girlfriend. "So, um, how was your day, sweetheart?" he asked, receiving a series of adorable gurgles in response.

The Avengers couldn't help but chuckle as Captain America, the epitome of heroism, became a bumbling dad trying to decipher baby babble.

As Steve cradled the baby in his arms, a dreamy smile crossed his face.

Amidst the chaos of baby talk and diaper changes, he couldn't help but imagine a future. "You know, sweetheart, I never thought about this – a family of our own," he mused, his eyes reflecting a mix of determination and tenderness.

In quiet moments, when the Avengers' headquarters were peaceful, Steve pictured a home filled with laughter and the pitter-patter of little feet. He saw himself and his girlfriend, no longer in miniature form, playing with children in a backyard, passing on stories of heroism and love.

The image of a cozy family dinner brought a warmth to his heart that surpassed even the thrill of saving the world.

[rustboxstarr]

🗡"Seeking attention like some common whore"🗡

Summary: Eddie doesn't think before he talks when he's pissed, he regrets that now when he has to explain to his daughter why her mom can't wear whatever she wants.

Pairings: Dad!Eddie Munson x Mom!Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, some fighting, Eddie being a dick, Eddie and R being a healthy couple and talking about their problems lol

Wordcount: 2.6 k

A/N: I found this in my docs and thought why not post it? Idk where the idea for this came from but I guess its mildly funny 🤷‍♀️

Love yas!

Check out my other works!

You woke up in a sour mood on Saturday, head pounding and your mouth extremely dry, a bitter taste resting on your gums. Your week had been long and challenging, you hadn’t even been that keen on going out partying Friday evening but Cindy, your closest colleague had psyched you up and made you feel excited about the whole thing, you even enjoyed yourself, had quite a few drinks, lots of laughs, some stumbling around with some other girls from the office as you made your way out and a permanent sloppy grin painted your features as you got out the cab and stepped through the door to your small house where so much love had been shared you were comfortable calling it a home. That grin was wiped clean off the moment you stepped through the door. 

A hangover was beating down on you, made even worse when you woke up with no long muscly arms wrapped around you, or any limbs even touching you for that matter. You craned your neck from your position lying on your side to see Eddies back to you, shallow even breaths making his torso expand evenly. It felt melancholy, not waking up with a comforting warmth wrapped around you, and you almost let that feeling overtake you before you rolled your eyes as you remembered what had actually gone down the night before, the reason for why there would be no awaiting tylenol and water on your bedside table and no lazy saturday morning cuddles before Ophelia woke up. 

You dragged yourself out of bed, the weight on your feet feeling undeniably heavy and sagging as your post drunk state hit you like a slap in the face when your head leveled upright. Taking a deep breath you decided to go downstairs and get yourself some pain killers, a very large glass of water or two and a strong cup of coffee. 

Rubbing your eyes of sleep you sipped your coffee at the kitchen table, sunk into the wooden chair, much too hard for any slouching to be at all comfortable. Footsteps pattered against the wooden stairs alerting you that someone was coming to join you, much to your dismay it wasn't a light pitter patter of tiny feet but heavy steps of a tired grown man probably equally as sour as you. The thuds alerting his presence caused you to quickly adjust your worn cotton nightgown, pulling the hem up comfortably to cover any awkward cleavage. 

You didn't even look his way as you heard the same footsteps enter the sage green and powder blue kitchen, you made no effort to stand up and greet him in any way instead you just sipped your coffee and looked out of the window. Your husband’s and your own car parked in the driveway in front of the empty quiet street of the suburbs. Green grass damp with the morning dew brightening up the dark hours of the early winter morning, a colorful painted mailbox even more a stark contrast to the blacks and deep blues that painted the sky. 

Eddie poured himself a cup of coffee and folded himself into the opposite chair, a low groan slipping past his lips at the action. All you did was glance over to him, at the interruption, but Eddie's eyes were fixed on the maple of the table as his hands wrapped around the dark Star Wars mug, the same one he drank his coffee in every morning, just like you with your Zelda mug. Before you flicked your eyes back to the view of the street through the window you noticed Eddie was shirtless, pale skin dampened in the lack of light shining at him, torso littered with tattoos, snaking up his arms and chest, down to his hips. He too hadn’t bothered to change into day clothes yet.

The silence loomed over the small open kitchen as you both sipped your coffee in quiet, you refusing to meet his gaze as Eddie chanced glances at you, trying to gather what mood you were in and by extension how the rest of the day would look like. All he could understand was that you were nowhere near happy and that meant that his day would probably be even longer than the workweek had been. 

He cleared his throat in an attempt to get you to look at him but you blatantly ignored him and continued staring out the window. Just as he was about to try again the familiar noise of tiny feet tread the steps down the stairs that he had taken not long ago. In an instant both of your heads turned in the direction of the hall awaiting Ophelia, eyes fixed on the corner before a head of messy brown curls appeared. 

In her blue whale pajamas, clutching her favorite teddy bear, Mr Burr as she so pleasantly called him. Rugged white fabric, fluff lost with the amount of love it had been given the past four and a half years and stuffing unevenly placed in the head and body, leaving a thin long neck on the seal in its rightful position of Ophi’s elbow. 

“Hia baby” had it been any other day your voice would be alot more chipper, but today, you couldn't muster up the strength, your tone was flat and croaky, clear evidence of the night before. Eddie winced behind you as he heard it, you were probably not feeling very well and he couldn't help but feel the slight guilt that part of it was his fault with the fighting yesterday, but also not being there to dote on you the morning after you had been out drinking. 

“Hi” Ophis' voice was near a whisper, still tired and not fully awake, she walked over to you, holding her hands out expectantly. You groaned as your weak muscles worked to pick your daughter up and sit her in your lap, that too made Eddie wince, guilt bubbling up even more than it already had. “Sleep ok?” he leaned over the table to let her slide her small hand into his big palm “No it was too loud” she complained as she let her dad wrap his fingers around her wrist. “Oh I’m sorry baby, were mommy and daddy talking too loud? you should have come in and told us” you hugged her to you as you felt bad about keeping your daughter up. “Probably would have helped me get to bed faster than staying up till 4 am” you mumbled, too groggy and hoarse for Ophi to understand what you were saying. Eddie let go of his daughter's hand with an eye roll, occupying himself with a large gulp of bitter coffee instead. 

“Why were you and daddy fighting?” Ophelia turned to you as she nuzzled her head to your collarbone “Me and daddy just had a little argument” you explained as a hand instinctively went to comfort her, smoothing down her hair atop her head. “What was it about?” she pressed as Eddie stood up from his seat to prepare a bowl of cereal for her and later on, her sister. 

You looked over at him and decided, you may as well just tell her “Hmm well you know when Daddy says you can’t wear some things?” looking down at her. “Oh great turn our daughter against me” Eddie grumbled as he poured milk into a pink plastic bowl, you scowled at him as the little girl spoke “Yeah, I don't like that, he tells Woxy too” she frowned up at you, it was difficult to take her seriously as she tried to pronounce her sister Roxette’s nickname. “Yeah well daddy does that with me too” you explained in a soft tone, despite the fact that you were actually really annoyed at the fact. “Why? Daddy says it's because I'm just little but you’re old” you chuckled, not catching the way Eddie's lips tugged up at the corners. “Yeah, I’m old” 

Eddie sat back down before placing the bowl and a small spoon in front of Ophelia's usual place at the kitchen table, signaling for you to let her down so she could eat. Ophelia crawled down and then up again to sit with her knees digging into the specially placed cushion on her chair. 

“Daddy” she looked up after a few mouthfuls “Hm?” he turned to give her his full attention “Why can't mommy wear what she wants? She’s not little, she's a woman” Ophelia asked confused. The gears were visibly turning in Eddie's brain as he thought over how best to explain it, he couldn't exactly tell his almost 5 year old daughter that her mom couldn’t waltz around in skirts that he barely considered an actual article of clothing and tops that reveal the things that are only for his eyes to see. “Um… well” he was fighting for words. “Because sometimes Daddy forgets that I’m not little like you” you interrupted, booping Ophelia's nose to earn a light giggle “So he forgets that it's not okay for him to tell me how to dress” even though your voice is soft you shoot Eddie a hard glare giving him insight into how you were actually feeling about him at the moment. 

Eddie rolled his eyes again and sat back in his chair, bringing the black ceramic up to his lips. “But listen Ophi, ok this is very important” you lent forward to catch her eye “When you become a big girl and same goes for your sister, if someone other than me or your daddy ever tells you what you can and can't do you have to come to us, and tell us ok?” Ophelia nodded in understanding “Especially if it's a boy ok? Because it's very important that you remember that you are your own person, and that no one can tell you how to dress ok?” Ophelia nodded again “You gonna come tell us if that happens?” “Yeah” Ophelia nodded happily as you sat back to mimic Eddie and bring your own coffee cup up to your lips and your eldest began her meal again. 

You recognised Eddie's face as he stared unfocused behind you, he was clearly mulling something over by the looks of it arguing with himself in his mind. Under any other circumstances you would ask him “Penny for your thought princess?” in some corny southern british accent, but today you simply didn't want to know. 

Ophelia seemed not to notice the tension between her two parents as she told you both about a strange dream she had where Eddie’s guitar had turned into an airplane and she had flown off with her friend Louise Harrington in it, both you and Eddie humoring her as she spoke with mouthfuls of cheerios. Soon enough she was situated under a blanket with various stuffed animals and a bottle of water on the couch to watch her morning cartoons next to three year old little Roxette who munched on some cut up slices of toast by Eddie and sat watching intently as bright colors lit up the screen. 

As Eddie got Ophelia and Roxette settled you pulled yourself upstairs with the intent of a shower and a fresh change of clothes, but decided to belly flop head first into the soft pillows of your bed, almost dozing off as the door next to your right opened. You didn't bother looking up as you heard Eddie close the door carefully and tiptoed around the bed to his own side, under the impression that you had passed out but was instantly startled as you awkwardly turned your head to press your cheek into the pillows, facing Eddie as he was about to climb back into bed himself. 

Your voice was muffled against the pillow as you spoke, “Come to shout about what a massive slut I am again?” Eddie cringed as he heard you, he took a deep breath before sitting down next to you, his back to the headboard. “No..” he sighed “You sure? Or would you maybe prefer attention seeking.. whore? Was it? No no wait, seeking attention like some common whore, that's what it was” Eddie shrunk in on himself as you repeated the words he had shouted at you in fury the night before, you knew Eddie would come around, you knew he would apologize, but this particular time you felt he had really crossed a line so you had no problem sprinkling some salt in his wounds. 

“Baby.. I’m sorry” he whispered as he leaned over to place a hand on your back and rub it up and down. “Mmmm” you sarcastically hummed “I-I really shouldn't have said that, I was being an absolute dick” at that you hummed in agreement, face still half smushed into the pillows as you looked up at him. “I just, you know how I feel about Billy.. I already don't want him around you, and when I saw you come home like that I just knew he was probably lapping it up” a roll of your eyes “But I took my anger out on the wrong person, I’m really sorry” Eddie moved down the bed to lie on his side as his hand continued rubbing up and down your back. 

“Mhm and?” you looked at him as his face was now level with yours “And..” he breathed fighting a roll of his eyes, he knew what you were doing “I just thought about you know if Ophelia or Roxette ever comes home with a boyfriend” “mhm” you coaxed him on “I wouldn't be that happy to know he was telling them what to wear” you broke out into a wide smug grin, even though there were a few more things to unpack about yesterday, an apology was all you needed for the moment. 

“Yup” you popped the ‘p’ even more smug, this time Eddie did actually roll his eyes but a playful grin tugged at his lips. “But” Eddie’s face suddenly went serious “I would… appreciate if maybe you don't wear those kinds of outfits around, at least Billy in the future” he was feeling sheepish at his request. “In my defense” you pushed yourself up to lay your head on your crossed forearms “I didn’t actually know Billy was gonna be there” you grinned “also if I knew that, do you seriously think I would have worn that?” Eddie chuckled “Yeah ok no, that's true” another smug hum of approval. “Mmmm but why you gotta wear that stuff anyway” he started of with a hint of a whine “Who you tryna impress when you have a big hunky husband with the biggest dick you've ever set your eyes on” a loud snort rang through the room as you turned to lie on your side, letting Eddie scoot closer and wrap his arms around you. 

“Maybe I’m tryna impress my boss, ya know get myself a sweet promotion, or maybe that so called big dick you pride yourself just isn't cutting it anymore” you nuzzled your face into his bare chest as it vibrated with laughter “Well first of all you are the boss, hate to break it to ya butchya’ can’t really get promoted babe, second whatchu’ talkin’ ‘bout woman, just last morning you were drooling over it” you rolled your eyes as a big amused smile spread across your face. 

“Well now you're just lying, I was not drooling” 

“Oh Eddie! Oh Eddie god! Oh my god! AAUUH Ugh! Your cock is so big oh my goood! Fuck Eddie yes! Yes! YEEES!” Eddie's voice turned into an awfully high pitched imitation of a girl's voice as he whispered as to not let the girls hear, whole body shaking with you in his grasp to get his point across further. 

“Oh my god shut up!” you clasped a hand around his mouth which Eddie easily pulled away to kiss at your knuckles “I’m getting a divorce” you giggle as you cozy up to Eddie.

[justcallmehappy]

“Rain”

(Step 2) Qiu Lin x gn!MC

Synopsis: Rain was always bittersweet to you. However, for Mx. Qiu Lin, it was the opposite. They find the rain calming, so why is it that Qiu and your opinions have switched today?

Word count: 1.3k

a/n: this was angstier than i meant it to be… also, i haven’t written in a bit so i’m pretty rusty. still, i hope you enjoy!

A song to listen to while reading:

•

Pitter patter, pitter patter.

Thump!

Your backpack drops onto the floor, utterly soaked. Of course, you are, too.

You made the mistake of not checking the weather to see if it would rain today. Since it was so sunny this morning, you simply assumed it would be nice and warm all day.

Oh, how wrong you were.

“Ugh…”

Still standing in the entryway, you peel your sweater off, scrunching your nose up at the sensation that never fails to make the hairs on your arms prickle.

Though it’s safe to say the weather isn’t the only thing that’s dampened your mood.

Tamarack caught a cold; another reason as to why you were in this predicament in the first place.

She always makes sure to check the weather.

The floorboards creak as you make your way up the stairs and into your room to get changed into something a little less soggy.

Normally you would shower, but your fingers itched to glide across the keys of your beloved piano.

Ah yes, your piano.

Qiu used to joke that you enjoyed the object’s company more than their own; that was a lie, of course.

When you moved into Golden Grove, your mother offered to sign you up for some extra curricular activities; that included piano.

Quickly, you fell in love with the instrument. It was sort of an escapism for you; a way to tell a beautiful story without having to say a word.

And so, you bound down the stairs, emitting a loud groan from creaky old things as you eagerly approach the beautiful baby grand.

A soft smile eases its way onto your lips as you stand in front of the sheek instrument. Gently, you run a finger over the shiny, black surface.

A thin layer of dust goes along with your finger as you pull away, but you pay it no mind as you turn to the strewn about pile of sheet music on top of the piano.

Shuffling through the papers, you find a song you’ve recently learned; all on your own, outside of private lessons.

You deem that its nostalgic sound is fitting for a day like today, and promptly pull out the piano bench your mother had bought from the antique store just for you.

You sit down on the familiar, worn mahogany cushion as you place the music onto the stand.

Your fingers hover over their starting positions as your eyes trace the familiar bars of music.

Then, you begin to play.

• • •

Qiu lets out a long sigh as they stare out their window, sprawled across their bed.

This is what they’ve been doing for the past fifteen minutes; just… lying there, watching the rain droplets fall.

There’s something about rainy days that’s always managed to calm Qiu’s restless mind. However, today is different.

They feel… off.

Unsettled.

Uncomfortable.

Why? Well, that’s the very same thing they’re mulling over right now.

“Tamarack’s sick; but that can’t be it…”

After all, the two aren’t friends anymore.

Qiu’s brows furrow at the thought and their mind drifts to someone they are friends with.

You.

You, still the kind and caring kid you’ve been since you first met on that fateful day a little over four years ago now.

Sometimes Qiu would feel guilty; their relationship with Tamarack surely put you in an awkward position, but you’d never shown any signs of discomfort, much less talked about it.

You’ve always managed to intercept and mediate any arguments they’ve had, though they’d be an idiot to miss the worried and tired undertones of your voice and expressions.

Of course, Tamarack never noticed.

Stupid Tamarack.

Qiu rolls over onto their back, fixing their gaze onto their off-white ceiling.

When they were little they used to beg their parents to put up little glow in the dark stars on the ceiling so it could look like they were staring at the sky as they fall asleep, but their parents refused, saying it would just wake them up more.

Qiu still didn’t understand their logic; the stars are relaxing, fake or not.

Suddenly, they sit up.

They’d reached a conclusion; they’d go over to your house. You’d know a way to entertain them, no matter how much you complained that you weren’t their jester.

Qiu’s legs swing over the side of their bed as they get up to retrieve their navy blue damp coat from the sad pile in the middle of the floor.

Zipping up their jacket, they quietly shuffle down their stairs and to where they left their shoes earlier.

Their father was busy on a meeting with a client and their mother was out on a grocery trip.

Not that they need permission to visit you.

The fluffy rim of their hood tickles them as they pull it up and open their front door.

Whoosh!

Their hood is immediately blown off and a cold, stinging sensation barrades their face.

They frown and wipe their cheeks of the relentless droplets that just pelted them.

Qiu suppresses a shiver as they once again pull up their hood, this time clutching it to their head.

A huff comes from their mouth, a white cloud of breath with it; it shouldn’t take this much effort just to see what their neighbor is doing, but it does.

That annoys them.

However, deep down, they know that you’d do the same for them if they ever called on you.

Which Qiu hasn’t. And Qiu won’t.

They trudge through the long, grueling two minute walk to your house. However, instead of going to the front door, they decide to go to the back, just to switch things up a little.

There’s already been so much change these past few months, why not sprinkle in a little more?

They groan as they realize just how much more suffering they’re putting themselves through just by that one harmless decision.

But it’d be worth it.

As they approach your back door, they’re about to knock until they hear a quiet melody from inside.

Their fist hovers over the damp, wooden door as a delicate set of notes float through the air.

The wind gently pushes Qiu’s hood down again but they pay it no mind, instead blankly staring at the door in front of them.

Their bottom lip snags between their teeth as they clench their fists.

Damn it. They really didn’t feel like getting emotional today.

Why was the melody so sad yet happy at the same time?

Before they knew it, rain drops weren’t the only thing rolling down their cheeks.

As the gentle song plays through the air, Qiu’s gaze lowers to the porch beneath them. Their previous fist, now a limp hand, rests at their side.

Now they know why they’re crying.

This song gave them a sense of familiarity; their uncertainty of their identity yet at the same time, complete security in their friendship with you.

…Friendship.

That’s all it is. At least, that’s what they keep telling themselves.

Qiu sniffles, wiping a tear.

Why can’t they just be honest with themself?

You’ve always been special to them; they knew that. But they didn’t know if it was a friend kind of special or a romantic kind of special.

“…No,”

They murmur softly.

“…Not yet.”

• • •

Your fingers rest on the keys as you play the final chord of the song, smiling quietly to yourself.

Something about this song reminds you of Qiu. You can’t quite put a finger on why, but you thought that if Qiu were a song, this would be them.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, a flash of navy blue passes by the window in a familiar shape.

Your brows furrow as your gaze shifts to the backdoor of your home. Slowly, you stand.

You make your way over to the door, gripping the handle. Gently, you pull the door open.

“…Qiu?”

However, only the heavy rainfall greets you back.

Pitter patter, pitter patter.

[hey-august]

In what feels like a post from ages ago you talked about Buggy and opposing headcanons of him you enjoy at the same time. One of these was “Outgoing and confident flirty Buggy who makes panties drop all around him.” Vs “Creepy clown not having much experience besides rigging his own mast.” Or something to that effect so…. Surprisingly a virgin!Buggy would not be out of the question y/n? I can see it honestly, secret romantic who never done anything with anyone because it didn’t “seem right” regretting it as soon as reader insert comes along because now he has no experience to show for all That romanticism and he’s sure if he doesn’t impress in the first act they are never gonna attend a repeat performance and all in all it’s just a miserable time, until reader grabs him by his adorably flushed cheeks and turns his face to them, assuring him that they are gonna have PLENTY of practice takes in the future if he’ll only be honest enough to communicate what he wants and is ready to listen to their input, so he better drop the high and mighty ring leader act and turn back into that adorably awkward clown they fell for… don’t mind me I just really like hcs of non young adult characters loosing their virginity and with Buggy it just… FITS so well yanno?

Listen anon, I am RIGHT THERE with you. 😩😩😩😩

I can absolutely see a romantic-at-heart Buggy, who overthinks every interaction. (Not to mention getting in his own way because of low self-esteem.)

But when someone is able to break through that barrier he’s built up, those giddy little butterflies are taking flight in his stomach. His heart is going pitter patter. His pants are getting tight.

It’ll still be a struggle - Buggy’s just so used to protecting himself. However, the right look, a little touch, a small comment - just the right thing and it’s like a switch flips. Eyes that fall from his face when he’s talking, going on a leisurely journey of his body. A hand on the back of his neck. A whispered compliment.

He’s blushing under all that face paint. Wringing his hands because he wants to put them on you so badly, but he’s nervous. He doesn’t want to fuck up. He stammers through a silly pick-up line, acting like it’s a joke.

But when you agree, all he can do is nod and awkwardly follow you to bed. Because goddamn does he want you so badly. He wants you to know how you make him feel. He wants to make you feel good.

And he’s willing to learn. ---

BTW, for more virgin!Buggy needs, I recommend There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin by @rorywritesjunk It's about a virgin touch-starved Buggy and a non-binary OC, and oh so good.

[ya-zz]

I present to you an idea:

Reader is pregnant when she met Ramattra. Their relationship develops quickly, and reader allows ram hold her new born. I wonder what kind of thoughts would he have then.

Or later on, child calls ram dada and he is so shocked he shuts down for a sec lmao

I just carve some fluff after I saw those posts about ram and children owo

Turned this one into a lil fic~

Ramattra x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1772

Three months into your pregnancy you parted ways with your partner. From finding out he was sexting multiple other women to actually sleeping with them, you finally had enough. You threw him out, bags and all. Despite the growing bump, you still had enough fight in you to kick the bastard where it counted before slamming the door shut in his face. 

You had no time to be focussing on finding a new partner, whatever happens, happens. Just focus on working the final few months before you had to leave and steady your life after the scars the ungrateful bastard had left you. You had more concerning things to worry about and the health of your unborn baby was one of them.

–

Coming home from work late one evening meant you had to walk the rest of the way home. A strenuous half hour, which in hindsight, wouldn’t have been that bad, but nearing labour, it was anything but easy. Eight months ago this would’ve taken you less time than waiting for a train, but the growing stress on your body was making everything ten times more difficult. All you could do was hope that you could walk home in one piece. 

And if matters couldn’t get anymore dire, it started to rain. You sought shelter under a store front, the lights inside behind you were still on, so they were still open. Leaning back against the window, you breathe heavily as a hand rubs over the swollen stomach. Everything hurts and your back was close to giving out from the stress it was under carrying such a heavy weight. 

You were too focussed on relieving the pain in your back that you didn’t hear the store doors open and someone approaching you. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, voice robotic and low. There was a hint of concern in his voice as his head tilts to the side. When he sees you jump a little, clearly startled by his presence, he holds both hands up defensively. “I am sorry for startling you.” 

“Oh! No, no. You’re okay.” Despite the pain you were feeling, you smile through it. Looking up at him, the omnic looks a little threatening, but the cocking of his head calms those nerves slightly. 

“You are not, it seems?” He approaches cautiously. His optics scan you, seeing the pain within your body. He peers down towards your stomach. 

You follow his gaze before letting out an amused chuckle. “Eight months.”

“I see.” It seems like he wants to ask something else.

The silence grows a little awkward. 

“Ramattra.” He finally speaks. “The name is Ramattra.” 

You find the awkwardness in his tone amusing as you smile up at him. “It’s nice to meet you, Ramattra.” Your hand rolls over your stomach, soothing the pain from the kicking inside. “I’m [y/n].” 

Ramattra nods his head, repeating your name. The way it sounds coming from his vocaliser soothes you, a warm feeling settling in your chest. 

The rain doesn’t seem to let up as the pair of you stay under the shelter. Ramattra looks up at the night sky, holding his hand out to the rain, watching it as it pitter patters against the rubber pads. As he pulls his hand back, he notices the shiver taking over your body. 

The omnic hesitates before removing his jacket and draping it over your shoulders. When he’s met with a satisfied sigh and a thank you coming from your lips, he nods his head. “Of course.” He simply replies. 

You had that intuition, a familiar feeling when you knew someone was friendly; he was good. 

It took a little of internal encouragement, but you bit back and spoke aloud. “Could I trouble you to walk with me? They say to not let a pregnant lady be alone.”

Ramattra glances over at you and nods his head. “I will keep you safe, do not fret.”

Your cheeks warm up as you smile subtly at him before gesturing him to walk by your side. He does so without thinking twice and the both of you walk back to your apartment. 

—

The final month of your pregnancy was anything but pain free, but with Ramattra by your side throughout it all, he made things a hell of a lot easier for you. 

He would help you out even when you didn’t ask for it. The omnic would stop by each day that he could, lending a helpful hand wherever possible. Cleaning the apartment, picking up the laundry and making sure everything was washed and dried for you. He even offered to go shopping for you so you didn’t have to walk that distance to and from. 

You appreciated everything that he did for you. That feeling you had last month was right. Ramattra was good. 

Whether it was out of pity or just something within his programming, Ramattra couldn’t stop himself. He had this need to help you. He wanted to help you, not because you were helpless, not because you couldn’t fight back, but because he felt something for you. 

Love wasn’t exactly hardwired into his systems, it was a new feeling for him and for possibly every omnic he had ever met. Love was… unique. 

He didn’t mind doing all these mundane, human tasks in the slightest. It helped him just as much as it helped you. Ramattra wanted to be there with you no matter how difficult it got. So, when you woke up from a nap in excruciating pain, calling out to the omnic to help you stand, he drops what he was doing and rushes over. 

Upon standing, a rush of fluids roll down your legs. You stare up at him with slight embarrassment and then shock, hands gripping onto his metal forearms for balance. 

“We need to get to the hospital. Now.” 

His optics lock with your eyes before he nods. He grabs the bag that you had set aside for this specific time before coming back over. His hand holds yours as the other is placed on your lower back. Ramattra is quick to usher you out of the apartment and call a taxi. 

He talks you through everything. “Breathe, hold my hand.” It’s all new to him and it’s terrifying. He wasn’t exactly prepared for this, he has no idea what he was doing but hopes that his words will help you. 

From there on, it was nothing but reassuring gestures. His systems were warm, something new flitting through his wires. His hand never once left yours, gently squeezing against your harsher ones. 

The omnics other hand would wipe away the sweat from your forehead, wanting to soothe what discomfort he could despite the pain you were in. He was gentle with you, always had been and that settled any and all doubts. 

Ramattra stood with you through it all. It was a painful and intense few hours of labour but when you finally held your little boy that was bundled up in a blanket, everything finally slotted into place. 

“He has his mothers eyes.” He says softly, hand stroking the back of your head. 

You smile up at him, face flushed as you grab his other hand, placing it over the bundle in your arms. “Thank you. For everything.” 

He shakes his head but he feels warm inside. “I told you. I would keep you safe.” 

Your chest shakes as you laugh. “For two months? You’re the kindest omnic I have met… You have helped me so much. I owe you-”

“You owe me nothing.” He states, thumb rubbing the back of your head. “It was the least I could do.” 

Ramattra watches you, the way your cradling your newborn, the soft look on your face and the subtle tears in your eyes. That feeling he felt? The warmth inside of him, he realises what it was. Love. Adoration. 

Ramattra adores you. 

He’s soon snapped out of those thoughts when you offer for him to hold your baby. He doesn't process it at first but the moment this child is within his arms, he feels his heart ache. His systems work overtime to keep him from overheating, to keep everything in check as he looks back at you. 

“He needs a father. Someone like you.” You sheepishly say. “I know this entire relationship has been quick and I understand if you’re not ready for such a big commitment-”

“I want to do this.” His vocaliser lowers. “Let me protect you both.”

—

BONUS:

It had been eleven months since you brought a new life into this world and Ramattra had never been happier. He was there every single step of the way, from making sure you had ample sleep which meant he would be there during the night to feed your boy, to making sure you were eating your meals. 

It was hard, but Ramattra wouldn’t have it any other way. He made a promise when he first met you and that was to protect you. He wanted you to be happy, to be healthy. He needed you just as much as you needed him. 

One day, whilst you were on the sofa several pages deep into a new book, Ramattra cradled the kid in his arms, trying to calm him down before his much needed sleep. 

Little hands grabbed at his cables, saliva dripping down onto the metal frame of his collar as the baby suckled on a cable before releasing them with an audible pop. It brought a small laugh from you as you return to your book. 

The silence was comforting before it was broken. 

“Da-da.” 

Your ears perk up, eyes losing the page as you stare up at your child with a shocked face. Ramattra, on the other hand, moves the child away from him, systems coming to a halt before resetting. 

“Did- did he just call me dad?” Ramattra stutters. 

“Da-da.” The playful smile on the child’s face was all the omnic needed before bringing the child back to his chest. 

You smile up at him, moving closer to sit next to him as you brush the hair out of your child's eyes. “Seems like he’s taken a liking to you.”

Ramattra looks at you as his hand rubs up and down the kids back before holding him into place. The child finally relaxes against the metal chassis as Ramattra moves his other hand to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. 

He had never dreamt that his life would come to this. A partner and a father. He chuckles lightly at the thought. Perhaps humans aren’t all that bad.