#like she knits stuff for them to keep them warm and cooks for them when they visit Floralia lmao

[sweetandglovelyart]

Not me seeing you have a really pretty OC you made of Ranza’s mom and wanting to draw my OC Peony asking her for her blessing to marry her son lol. I love your art and your comics! It made me happy to see you liking my art 🥺🌸

Aww thank you so much, I’m really glad that you like my stuff and if you do end up drawing that I’d love to see it, that sounds really cute ❤️ I think I saw you post Peony on the Kirby Reddit a while ago (I hang out on there sometimes but am more active here/mostly post my Kirby fanart here) and I really like your design for her! I’ve got some other drawings I’m working on but once I get through those would it be fine if I drew her?

[rosiethedragongeek]

Because it is officially the same month as the first day of Fall happens,,, it's OFICIALLY Halloween so here are some Fall/Halloween headcanons for the gang <3

okay it got a little long so I'm gonna put a keep reading thing so that it doesn't take up too much space lol

Snotlout is one of those people who REFUSES to admit that he is cold even when he is like, violently shivering

The twins are giving out Thorston sandwiches left and right they cannot be stopped, you WILL find yourself in the middle of a Thorston Sandwich at LEAST once or twice a week

Tuffnut knits sweaters for Chicken, Rooster, and ALL of the chicks

They all cuddle their dragons at night to stay warm <3

When they're all hanging out together, Hooky will flame up and they'll all sit close to him

They toast food on him all the time when they're hanging out like this

They go to carve pumpkins but they get SUPER competetive about it (idk if they realistically could get their hands on pumpkins and idk if they would even be exposed to that tradition but for the sake of this they can and they have lol)

They're all trying to carve pumpkins of their dragons

Hiccup gets super creative about it he calculates things, he's got a ruler, he's got a pencil to make markings beforehand, the whole deal

Fishlegs' is very artistic (he also makes a model meatlug out of like four pumpkins instead of just carving her into one)

The twins actively try to cut each other's fingers off while carving theirs

The twins try to fill hollow pumpkins with zippleback gas and use them like bombs lol

Which leads to them eating a lot of roasted pumpkins

Hiccup always has long sleeves but he is SO cold ALL the time, he gets a thicker tunic and some furs to keep warm

Snotlout makes fun of him for giving into the cold

Astrid does too but it's okay because she is ACTUALLY impervious to the cold

P sure that Fall in Berk comes with a mix of heavy rain and light snow so there's a lot of muddy slush all over

Berk is all decorated with candles and dragons cut out of colored papers and stuff

They have a bonfire in the center of the village that they light at night around this time of year

The twins insist on cooking for the gang using *fall flavors* which goes about as well as expected (there is SO much cinnamon) (once again idk if they have cinnamon on Berk or wtv but it's fun to imagine they do so they do)

The twins knit the LONGEST scarves for Barf and Belch

Fishlegs has a criminal amount of candles in his hut, and has made Meatlug SO many blankets and his hut is so cozy and warm

Fishlegs made them all scarves in their colors

Astrid still does her morning flights with Stormfly even though it's fucking cold she loves it

She's like no you guys you don't get it it keeps you alert

It's good for you

Snotlout absolutely gets sick trying to prove that he is unbothered by the cold and how he actually can swim in the ocean for an hour without getting so cold he has to come out

That's the twins' fault for sure

They honestly all probably get sick flying around in the sky and the clouds and stuff especially during storms and stuff bc despite what the movies and shows show you Berk is notoriously super wet and cold so

Fishlegs is the one to call everyone getting sick EVERY TIME

He also brings them all warm Yak milk with cinnamon at night time

[manwrre]

head canon is neurodivergent steve kinda being a jack of all trades when it comes to anything remotely physical or like hands on (cmon, we’ve seen him twirl the bat). like, he’s got a lot of little niche interests and hobbies or skills because he gets bored a lot and goes through these little phases of hyperfixation when it comes to this stuff.

like, he’s got a green thumb??? his nonna (because head canon steve is a sweet little italian boy, sue me) always told him that fresher herbs were better for cooking and obviously, he cooks his own meals. so he makes the decision to start a kitchen garden and bro is a NATURAL. i’m talking rosemary, oregano, parsley, thyme, basil and freaking tomatoes for the heck of it.

or like, he once watched a segment on ‘the perfect conditions for growing strawberries’ and he couldn’t get it out of his head. he was up for the challenge?? visited the library and got a million books, bought the soil and equipment and kept them warm in the winter like they were his BABIES. and they were freaking delicious so obviously, he learnt how to make jam outta them.

he’s also crazy good at shit like draughts?? so he’s got a massive board and he plays against himself routinely. he plans on moving unto chess eventually but he hasn’t beat himself yet! all of his games keep coming to a draw.

he definitely knits and freaking crochets. he found a box of needles in the attic one time and some material and tried his hand at it. it took him a week or two but he knows about three different types of stitches at least!! and knitted himself some fingerless gloves last winter.

above all else though, he’s learnt how to play like two instruments—“and the triangle! she matters, she has feelings.” his parents had bought him a bunch of instruments as a kid, hoping that he’d have some inclination towards the arts so they could boast about it but he wasn’t really interested. he realized he hated the acoustic guitar so he got an electric one, which suits him sm better AND he can play the drums. but he likes to learn the hardest solos or nothing fr because he’s competitive

bonus points if steve underplays his interests when he’s dating billy because his parents can’t get him to shut up fast enough about ‘em. but the more billy comes over, the more he notices all of the little knickknacks just laying around ie. steve’s collection of mini whittled animals or his draught board laid out because he got stumped mid-game or the amps beneath his bed. and he’ll ask about them!! he’ll think it’s so freaking cool and let steve rant and babble about them for hours.

he’ll taste test all of his new recipes and learn draughts so he can kick steve’s ass and listen to new songs or instrumentals that he learns. like, there’s no way he won’t get wrapped up into his new interests with him and make it their thing.

[mybedroomceilingsbored]

I have MORE things I want to know actually (in reference to the tag game) 5, 11, 12, 18, 24, 28 im just gonna keep going I’m curious 31, 33, 39

aw thanks!!!

5 (what made you start your blog) - i first joined tumblr in late '21 i think? (i'd just had a rlly bad rehearsal and needed to blow off some steam lol) I didn't post anything or interact with anyone, i just lurked for quite a while. In early '23 i think, i started posting stuff and put up a bunch of my (truly terrible) observations/photos/poetry/whatnot, and then deleted it all in that summer. i tentatively started posting again that fall, and here i am!

11 (what do you consider to be romance) - huh idrk! i don't crush much, so i feel like my own definition might be a little looser than others'.

12 (advice you want to share) - hmm, get outside as much as possible (it's done wonders for me), pick up as many hobbies as possible while you have the time, if you get periods (or just are tired) then heat up milk and add sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, and vanilla extract (super relaxing and good for cramps WITHOUT the caffeine and super high sugar)

18 (do you believe in ghosts/aliens) - DEFINITELY ghosts, i've had a lot of family members have personal encounters. With aliens, it's more of a scientific probability, it'd be a lot more unlikely for them not to exist

24 (something you're proud of yourself for) - Earlier this year, i started trying to make a point of spending time with this girl who never seemed to have someone to talk to (she's homeschooled and shy, comes from a super conservative fundamentalist family, is tall with a blue mullet, stims a lot, and will happily talk about transformers for hours). Turns out she's super sweet and warm, once she gets comfortable! Now she's rlly happy to have someone to hang out with, we're gonna go get smoothies soon :)

28 (do you collect anything) - not really lol!

31 (are you messy or organized) - i'm organized when i really want to be. The rest of the time, i'm usually kind of a slob :)

33 (hobbies) - quite a few haha! I'm a dancer (ballet, pointe, modern, jazz, tap, and hip-hop), i play the piano, the flute, and the ukulele, i crochet/knit/sew/embroider/sketch/paint, i read a LOT and do a ton of jigsaw puzzles, and i bake and cook! i also like biking, swimming, and jogging, and my brother's trying to get me into weightlifting :)

39 (youtuber you've been obsessed with/why) - i don't really watch youtube, sorry! i like watching cavetown's stuff ig, and i've been enjoying a comedy improv group called shoot from the hip???

thanks for asking, this was a lot of fun! i'd love to hear any of your answers if you wanted to share!!

[hiddenbeks]

hehe hewwo :3c 💙👖🧠💔✨🧶 for heidrun <3

hehehe thank u red <3 this got a little lengthy again so.. putting it under a cut...

💙 - describe their bedroom! is it personalized, unchanged? messy, neat?

ok so growing up she shared a room with her parents in the hall of the vigilant. it was pretty plain and neat, a small room with just the beds + bookshelves full of books about magic and religion with a shrine to stendarr on one side of the room. one of the precepts for followers of stendarr is "do not hoard wealth" and this was of course reflected in their lifestyle!

after heidrun is forced to leave the vigilants she stays homeless for quite some time, sleeping in the woods or in caves or abandoned houses... once she gains some control over her lycanthropy and is comfortable being around other people again she might crash in an inn whenever she can afford it.

and after she learns that she's the dragonborn and becomes Important and starts doing Important stuff and makes some money she builds a small log cabin on the outskirts of ivarstead! the bedroom stays mostly neat because she still lives a rather frugal life and doesn't have much to make it messy with but there are lots of soft rugs and pelts to make it nice and comfy... but also the small desk she has in the bedroom is always disorganized with piles of books and scrolls. and there's always wolf fur on the floor and bed no matter how hard she tries to keep them clean 🤨

👖 - coffee shop or high school au, your choice: tell me their role.

in a high school au heidrun would be the quiet reclusive kid who most people avoid because she seems scary and her vibes are weirdddd but who turns out to be very nice and kind and also volunteers in an animal shelter in her free time 😌

🧠 - what is their stress response: fight, flight, freeze, or fawn?

it depends i guess? if it's a life-threatening situation she goes full fight mode but if it's something else like an interpersonal conflict or a lot of general stress over Life built up over a long time she's more likely to respond by freezing or fleeing yknow... becoming confused and indecisive and isolating herself... she is so bad at dealing with that kind of stuff unfortunately

💔 - does forgiveness come easily or with difficulty to this oc? can they forgive others? what about themselves?

well. on one hand being raised by vigilants of stendarr who preach mercy and compassion i think she was also taught that forgiveness is important. but on the other hand. these people turn their backs on her the moment they learn she's become a werewolf, one of the abominations stendarr considers "deserving of extermination without mercy" so like... so much for their teachings huh... for a long time she blames herself for letting it happen and for failing in her religious duties but after enough reflection she comes to terms with her fate and forgives herself. while she still believes in second chances for most people she becomes bitter towards stendarr and the vigilants and their hypocrisy and will never forgive them :)

✨ - share something that makes this oc feel happy!

helping those in need! her god and family may have turned out to be hypocrites but that doesn't mean she has to stop believing in kindness and compassion... she will remain kind even when the world and the gods are not 😔 also good food. she's a surprisingly decent cook actually and enjoys making hearty meals!

🧶 - do they do any arts, crafts, or creative hobbies?

uhhhh she tries but she's not very good with her hands in that regard. she knits scarves sometimes and while they're not pretty they keep her neck warm in that cold northern climate! also she might do a little whittling every now and then... it's a nice and meditative way to pass time in more quiet moments... she Tries to make like cute little animal figurines or whatever but the result is often just a deformed chunk of wood hgfhjdgh

[withahappyrefrain]

For your sleepover -- pls tell me your headcanons for Peter and Sunshine celebrating various holidays together. Are they traditionalists? Do they celebrate Hanukkah? Do they bake together?

TURN IT UP:

Rosh Hashanah (Jewish New Year's):

They go over to May's house for dinner. They eat apples dipped in honey. May makes her famous homemade Challah bread and Sunshine brings a dessert of some kind. She makes an amazing spiced honey cake! They spend time with May and play some board games with her.

Yom Kippur:

Yom Kippur always happens 10 days after Rosh Hashanah and it's the holiest Jewish holiday. So it's one of the few times Peter and Sunshine go to a synagogue for service. They don't always fast (which is what you traditionally do), but do reflect on the past year and ways they want to be better for themselves and each other.

Peter hadn't gone to service since Gwen died. So he was quite nervous the first time he went. Sunshine kept assuring him that he didn't have to go with her, but he wanted to, he wanted to spend it with her. She held his hand the whole time, squeezing it so he knew she was there for him.

Halloween:

Sunshine goes all out for Halloween. She has several tubs of Halloween decorations she gets out. Peter compromised and said she could start putting them out after Labor Day. Their little apartment door is all decked out. They like to do costumes that are easy, so one year they were the couple from BeetleJuice, another year they were Ellie Sadler and Alan Grant from Jurassic Park. Sunshine brought a cheap knockoff Spiderman costume for her and Peter one year as a joke. Peter likes her costume better as it's more revealing.

Thanksgiving:

They go to Sunshine's family for Thanksgiving! I can see Sunshine coming from a very sweet and big family. So for Peter, it's overwhelming his first time. It's a lot of people. Sunshine finds him in the guest bedroom and they sit and talk for a bit. Then one of Sunshine's nephews comes in and asks if Peter can play with them. Peter says yes and spends hours playing with them outside, tossing them into the pile of leaves. Sunshine's heart absolutely melts when she sees Peter playing with her nieces and nephews! She is on him the whole time afterwards girl has a breeding kink

Hannukah:

They have a little menorah in their house that they light! They spend one night at May's house, which is where they make latkaes (her kitchen is bigger). I can see Sunshine making some banging kugel. Another night is spent with friends, another night is spent with Sunshine's Aunt who lives in the city. They give each other little gifts here and there and on the eighth night, give each other their main present. Sunshine is really good at gift giving. I can also see Peter being really crafty (he did make his own Spidey suit!) And making her sunflower and Sun pattern stuff. I can see Peter getting into knitting and making her scarves so she can stay warm in the winter when outside for recess!

Christmas:

They get Chinese food and watch movies in their pajamas (as is the traditional way when you're Jewish lol). Sunshine bakes sugar cookies and Peter eats more of the dough than actually helps. It usually ends with them cuddling on their couch, watching Home Alone reruns.

New Year's:

Sunshine drags Peter to a New Year's party. Always. I wouldn't say she's a huge extrovert, but she likes to celebrate with folks! Their first year, Peter was unsure whether to kiss her or not, so Sunshine took the lead and planted one right on his face. Now he doesn't hesitate lol.

Valentine's Day:

Valentine's day is when they dress up and go to a fancy restaurant. It's a miracle if Peter is able to keep his hands off of her before they get to the restaurant. They both buy each other flowers. Peter gets Sunshine sunflowers and marigolds, Sunshine gets Peter a mix of Malvas and Magnolias.

For their first Valentine's Day as a couple, poor Peter was so nervous. He tried cooking dinner for her and Sunshine had to step in. They ended up ordering Thai food and ate it on their balcony. Sunshine still swears it's the best Valentine's Day she's ever had.

Passover:

They got to May's for dinner. Peter has been leading the seder since Ben died. It's something he accepted long ago. But then Sunshine comes in and she's so proud of Peter and for the first time, instead of just reciting the story of Passover, he's actually lively and even sneaking in some jokes. May almost cries because it's almost like Peter is back to his old self, his self before death and lost love marred him.

Fourth of July:

They go to a friend's cookout. I truly believe Peter has a tank top of one of the founding fathers drinking a beer. Sunshine wears red lipstick which Peter absolutely loves and makes it known. Peter takes her to the top of the Empire State building because it has the best view of the fireworks.

I think I got most of the major holidays! Thank you Rae for indulging me! ♥️♥️♥️

[greypetrel]

Can I have 🍄 and 💦 for Aisling, Raina, and Alyra? :3

Of course you can! :D

Tis the ask game

🍄 What are your OCs favourite snacks? Their favourite comfort food which always cheers them up when they’re down? Favourite meal to make? Do they enjoy baking and cooking and are they any good in the kitchen?

Aisling: She's a sweet tooth. Her ultimate favourite thing is lemon custard cake, or anything with citruses. Or anything sweet with a memory linked to it. Embrium buds (sweet as per my headcanon) because she and her big brother ate them together, cookies because she... Well, Sera bakes them and she helps her cooking. Nectarines are her favourites too, she says they "taste like home" because she always ate them with her clan. She is a bad cook, can cook a couple of very basic things that will keep herself and others alive, but only on a campfire, and it's not anything you'll remember. Put her in front of a stove, leave her unsupervised and she'll either set the kitchen on fire, make the oven explode because "stuff wasn't cooking so I got impatiens and helped it with magic". Invent a Rage Demon to blame for her lack of talent.

Raina: Cotton candy because Malcolm used to buy it to her at festivals, to cheer her up when she was sad, and just to make her smile. She gets emotional for cotton candy. She loves Orana's cooking, and particularly how she makes tomatoes and her bruschette. Orana always makes one bruschetta more, and that's always for Raina because it's her favourite. She maybe could learn to cook, but has not the patience for it. She can cook only ONE thing and that's the "Grand Hawke Stew". Which was Malcolm's idea to convince Leandra that they won't starve after they ran away and stayed a family tradition. It's basically a soup made from "whatever is in the pantry at that moment, pour everything inside". Raina somehow always manages to make it taste nicely. Even if you see her pouring a whole jar of peanut butter inside. She really has no patience for anything else, maybe she can grill, but baking? Nope, she's terrible.

Alyra: Halla cheese. It's not something you find in human settlements, she's not so sentimental but she misses that and makes her feel good. She has a soft spot for Alistair's prized grey lamb soup. She is a soup girl. Something warm and earthy, full of herbs, and she'll settle down with a smile. It reminds her of home, it reminds her of the Blight and of meals shared with her friends. Soup is nice, soup is a warm hug. She is the best cook of the three, she'll tackle cooking as she tackles everything else in her life: methodically and with a purpose. She'll get a recipe and follow it, add some spices of her own, measure timings precisely. She'll get you nourished and she'll get you happy with what she serves you. She'll be better at cooking than at baking, but purely because she strongly prefer savoury dishes to desserts.

💦 If you as the writer could erase one traumatic event from this OC’s life what would it be and why?

Aisling: Already answered here!

Raina: In canon I saved both twins. It's not that I don't like starting it with a death, it's just... I saw Leandra blaming Hawke and that was a little unsettling for me. Again, Raina is the blorbo I accidentally poured too much of me into (except I can cook and I can bake and am still learning knitting) and... Again, see Aisling, I'm ok with the drama, but there's a couple of things that... Are too much. That thing is something I'm deeply uncomfortable with and I think she would have come crushing down way before the ending of Act 2 with that on her shoulders as well.

Alyra: So, this is basically me not thinking through things when choosing dialogue options, LOL. But basically: Alyra facing the Landsmeet and saying that oh no I'll be the Queen, Alistar we can marry. In front of everyone. And Alistair needing to remind her that eh. You know. Wrong ear shape. That's... Not something I would have personally dismissed so easily as a writer, necessarily (maybe keep the option open to work through it... I'm speaking of years of machinations to make it plausible for everyone, and only available as an options on certain conditions, but still.). And realising it wouldn't have been a feasible option... That is basically Alyra's core fear condensed into one wrong dialogue choice, I kept it out of trust to my game but eh. I don't think she would have done it and in that shitshow that is the breakup with Alistair if you make him king and aren't a Cousland... That is the one thing I'd spare her, LOL. (Instead I'm evil and we keep it.)

[can-of-pringles]

Writing down random details that Arith and Iriel like about each other for the ✨character development✨ (in no particular order)

Arith's favorites about Iriel:

The little sound Iriel makes when she wakes up and stretches. He thinks it sounds cute.

When she smiles and it makes her eyes crinkle (I know I'm probably not explaining this well but idk)

When she absentmindedly pushes her hair behind her ears.

When she hums.

How she laughs.

When she wears black clothes and they match.

When she gets him flowers as a surprise.

How her personality can brighten up a room.

How selfless she is.

Iriel and swords. No further explanation needed.

When she stims by ruffling her wings.

How the tip of her nose and ears are red when she's out in the cold.

How she'll curl up in a blanket once it's out of the dryer and warm.

When she's reaching for something high up and he'll get a little peek of her midriff (he faints /j)

When he's sitting down and Iriel tilts his head up by her fingertips and kisses him.

The expressions she'll make while reading something.

When she puts her hair up in a ponytail.

How when she's reading over something like instructions or things like that, she'll sorta mutter it under her breath as she skims it trying to find the part she's looking for.

How grumpy she can be in the morning. He thinks it's funny.

When she becomes hyperfixated on something and tells him all about it.

When she becomes focused on something and her brows knit together.

How she'll occasionally pace around while thinking.

The grin on her face when she gets an idea/solution to a problem.

How determined she is usually.

When she sorts through her collections of things.

The little notes she leaves places so she can remember certain stuff.

How she'll fidget with the corners of blankets by bending it and running the tip under her thumb nail. (Hard to explain but it's a stimming thing)

When her outfits are coordinated.

When she wears belts or accessory chains around her waist.

Whenever they write each other letters and her's are always with great detail.

When she ties jackets around her waist.

When she sings along to songs on the radio.

When she decides to be the extra flirty one instead for a bit.

When he can hear pure excitement in her voice.

When she wears perfume.

When he sometimes finds her laying down on a really soft rug in her home, doing like a snow angel but instead carpet (it's about the texture!)

When she sits on the kitchen countertop and keeps him company while he cooks.

When she weaves flowers into her hair or wears a flower crown.

How her eyes look like halos.

When she talks in her sleep.

When the sleeves of the sweaters she wears are long enough to cover her hands.

When he gets to see her do her job and help humans, usually healing them.

Iriel standing in sunlight and looking like she's practically glowing.

When she's basically unphased when eating spicy foods (Arith is both impressed and jealous by this)

How sometimes when she's bored she'll start to doodle on corners of pieces of paper.

When she uses emojis while texting.

When she wears suits.

When she reads outloud to him.

Her collection of pressed flowers.

When deer!Iriel just stares at him with those big doe eyes.

When she wears eyeliner.

How festive she gets around holidays.

When while they're watching something she'll point out a fact about it (if she knows about it)

Whenever she sleeps she does the "dead/dinosaur wrist" thing whatever it's called (a thing most autistic people do where they'll sleep with their wrist bent curled up)

When she wears lip gloss.

Arith getting back the shirts or sweaters Iriel occasionally steals from him (because they remind her of him) and they smell like her perfume or have small golden strands of her long wavy hair caught on the fabric.

When she shares memes with him.

When she does the skirt/dress twirl.

How confident she is at riding horses.

How she'll say hi to animals if given the chance. Random pet dogs she sees, a friendly stray cat, etc.

How she reacts when he kisses the back of her neck.

When she insists on taking in some animals in bad conditions/situations and looks after them temporarily until they find a home.

When she paints her nails in different color combinations.

Her probably inventing the whole "name a good/positive thing about yourself and send it to ten people" trend.

When she watches documentaries about angels/biblical topics and giggles at how inaccurate a lot of them are.

When she's having a Disney princess moment™ and slightly befriends the local bird population.

When she taps her foot along to music she's listening to.

When it's summer and she drags him along to the beach /j and he actually ends up having a good time there with her.

When she discovers cosplaying and kinda gets into the hobby on occasion.

How she uses the angel emoji a lot 😇

How she practically melts whenever he gives her massages after a long hard day at work.

When she shares her skin care facial masks with him.

Iriel wearing cute hats.

How she'll stay awake with him if he can't sleep.

When Iriel kisses his fingertips.

When they're laying in bed at night and he hears her quietly laughing to herself while she looks at memes on her phone.

How whenever he brings up a new interest and she ends up researching everything she can about it as a surprise.

How the places she lives seem to feel like genuine places of sanctuary and make him feel calm.

How they'll go on walks together at night when one of them has too much energy to rest (it's usually Iriel that does)

When she's so excited and happy to see him she runs and kinda jumps into his arms.

Iriel's favorites about Arith:

The occasional times when Arith will genuinely laugh.

The nicknames he calls her (even the lighthearted teasing ones)

When he goes on an infodumping tangent about whatever.

When there's extra moisture in the air and it makes his hair fluffier.

When he "steals" her earrings to wear.

The subtle ways he makes her feel safe.

When she holds her hand out and he automatically takes it.

How he's secretly a softie.

When he wraps his coat around her.

How he's usually not afraid to be different compared to his coworkers.

When he acts dramatic when he's called nice or good.

How much he likes to lounge (bonus if he's laying with his head on her lap)

The way he'll stick the tip of his tongue out in the corner of his mouth when he's concentrating on something occasionally.

"Have you seen my headphones?" They're on your head "oh, right"

When he pulls out chairs for her.

When he paints his nails.

When he absentmindedly runs his hand through his hair.

"This [insert random thing] made me think of you"

How passionate he can be.

When he tells her things about his hobbies.

When his hair is long enough that he can put it into a tiny ponytail if he wants. (Though of course his hair has been different lengths over the years, sometimes about the little ponytail hits different)

When he fidgets with his rings (when he wears them)

When she catches him unguarded and he's probably curled up sleeping maybe taking a nap. Something about him in this state makes him look so innocent, Iriel knows he'd get annoyed if she said anything though.

When he'll occasionally play video games and she watches him play (bonus if they play together)

When he yawns. (Yes she finds it cute)

When he's trying to think of a specific word and he does that quick stimmy vague hand gesture thing that people do until he remembers the word.

When he wears crop tops.

How sarcastic he is.

When he points out stars and constellations to her.

When they're listening to music and he's holding her close and she can feel vibrations of him humming.

His fuzzy happy trail

Some of his moles/freckles.

How he'll unknowingly pull her closer while they are sleeping.

When he kisses her after eating blackberries and/or blueberries.

His voice in the early morning being a little deeper than usual.

The shape of his nose.

When they're holding hands and she gives his hand a reassuring/comforting squeeze and he does it back.

The rare times when he wears t-shirts.

When he wears long-sleeved shirts and rolls up the sleeves showing his forearms.

When he plays the piano.

When he absentmindedly traces patterns with his finger on her skin while they're cuddling.

When he uses his powers to make snowflakes.

When he lightly teases by mentioning he's taller than her, only for her to remind him that he's only like an inch taller or something like that.

How he has the ability to walk on top of snow no matter what shoes he's wearing.

How fluffy he is as a wolf/some kind of big black dog.

The rare instances where he has a bit of stubble.

"Let's compare the sizes of our hands" "this is just an attempt at you trying to hold my hand" "maybe..."

When Iriel doesn't feel well and feels too warm, Arith placing his cold hands on her face to help. (He has that cool rag on the forehead effect /j)

His tattoo.

When it's obvious that he's blushing because he's pale af.

How he can be really gentle when he wants to, like with some baby animals (bonus, with Kaia too)

When he shares earbuds with her.

The calming sound of his breathing while asleep.

How he's secretly ticklish (only Iriel knows this)

The shape of his lips.

When he's able to sleep peacefully throughout the whole night (he does get the occasional trauma related nightmare)

When he smokes on occasion but makes sure to respect whatever boundaries she has about smoking at her place/area.

When he changes out the laces in his boots to something other than black.

His super fluffy looking eyebrows.

When they feed the birds together.

How much he genuinely enjoys snow.

When he tries to explain the "cinematic complexities" of the movie Frozen.

When wolf!Arith's back leg accidentally starts going when Iriel scratches him.

When he basically acts as a weighted blanket for her.

How he respects her choice to use miracles sparingly.

When wolf!Arith returns from a run and shakes the snow from his coat.

When he let's her on occasion comb his hair.

When he rests his head on her shoulder.

How he'll add whipped cream to her hot chocolate when he makes the drink for her.

When he takes time to cook food from scratch.

When he thinks he's been super dastardly evil and in reality he's like trolling on Twitter. (She finds it funny.)

How he'll come home from a long day at hq and he asks for a hug.

When he offers to use his powers to put an ice cube in her super hot super (it's a very simple thing but she appreciates it nonetheless)

Arith wearing eyeshadow.

When she sometimes hears him humming a song.

When he helps her put on necklaces like with the clasps.

How his house(s) almost always smell like candles.

Wolf!Arith cuddles.

When he surprises her by learning one of her favorite songs on the piano.

How he'll always be there for her through every thing, and she'll do the same for him.

[sparatus]

Hii ** For the wholesome oc ask meme: 1, 8, 12, and 21 for Aediteia. Bonus: 10, 18 and 19 for a character of your choice 💛

HI BB ILY sorry these are so late, i've been kinda short on spoons as of late :'D it's such a joy seeing you on my dash again for real i love your passion for everything so much im so flattered you remember teia

wholesome oc asks

aediteia epirian

1. What is their go-to comfort food?

cheap takeout, the oilier the better. bad day? no worries, pick up a little to-go box of noodles and fried meat from that little street vendor on the way home and cry into it while watching vids of shelter animals getting adopted and cuddling the hubby, works every time!

8. What is a smell that makes them feel at home?

fireplaces, with the smell of cooking food floating in from the other room. it reminds her of the day she realized she was in love with ierian, and it makes her feel safe and loved.

12. What is their safe place? And what does “safe place” mean to them?

at home, either in her bed curled up with blankets and a book or taking a warm bath with a cup of hot tea. her "safe place" is where she can unwind and let herself just, let go of all the stress and the various roles she has to play throughout the day. no councilor's wife, no bubbly reporter, just teia, free to relax and be teia and enjoy some time to herself.

21. Which new skills they would really like to learn?

she's always kind of wanted to pick up ttrpgs and video games, her kids enjoy them and she thinks it looks like fun, if she could just find the time. she's also interested in knitting, she already does leatherwork and beading but she'd love to learn how to knit!!

and for another oc. hmmmm let's dooooo nautilea!! she's a fairly new one and could use some development, she's quentius's wife and an admiral in the turian navy, she's irreverent and snarky and gets in trouble now and then for leaving paperwork and stuff to her XO so she can go home to quentius like 20 minutes faster, lol

nautilea vitrilianus

10. What is their favorite thing in the world?

besides her husband and kids of course, she really loves gourmet chew-bones with fun wild flavors like berry tart or pina colada. it's a simple joy, but she doesn't get to have a lot of luxuries when she's on the ship, so she likes having something fun to indulge in. her actual ship, the enninion, pulls up a close second, she's very proud of being in charge of an entire dreadnought, but the chew-bones just spark joy in such a particular little way.

18. What is their favourite hobby? Would they share it with someone they love?

she's really into photography! she actually has an old-fashioned film camera, and a dedicated darkroom in her and quentius's apartment back on the citadel. she likes to try to get good shots of things that catch her interest but otherwise might not get any attention, like her husband lazing at his desk or a unique angle of things on her ship. she doesn't really do anything with the pics afterwards, just keeps them in a book for her own memories. she loves sharing the pictures she took with quentius once they've developed, just to go "look what i did" and get that serotonin dose from him telling her which ones are his favorites and what he likes about them.

19. What is something they excel at?

she's great at talking people in circles until she's convinced them of her point of view in such a way they think it's their own idea. very dangerous being married to an ambassador, of course, but she mostly just goofs around with quentius and stays out of xenopolitics, so it's fine. she's more a threat to the rest of the brass and to whatever primarch has to deal with her that month.

[slutstarring]

i know i am supposed to be sleeping but d.ark/k.ink plots that are p.ost-ap.ocaly.ptic, anyone?

like imagine two or three guys (or more!) that have somehow banded together to help survive the worse of the chaos and they take in a female survivor along the way who ends up becoming the wife to the whole group. and like them going on supply/hunting trips and fixing up some old farm as a safe haven while she cooks for them and bandages their wounds and knits/crochets warm clothes and stuff. and we could even bring breeding into it because maybe the population has dwindled and they need to keep it going, or maybe they’re just fucking horny because times are stressful and they all need fun, so she gets knocked up a couple times by them and it’s a roulette who the father is but it doesn’t matter because they’re all a little family now. could even bring some milking action in to it because why not. (sidenote: we could do this idea but it’s more dub/noncon if you’d like it darker, where in order to be accepted into the group and survive, she has to become a cumdump and servicing the group becomes her role.)

or the above except it’s multiple women (bonus points for sisters/best friends/teammates!!!) and one guy and he ends up using them all and making them all his pretty wives. and they dote on him and worship him because he’s strong and gives them a sense of purpose. him just being a greedy gross bastard and enjoying having them all to himself <3 we could bring breeding/milking into this as well or even add a cult/religious element.

a woman being stuck in a safe house/bunker with a perv who is just craving to have his way with her. could be someone she knew before the apocalypse or just a guy who took her in out of desire mercy because he knew she would have nowhere else to go. and maybe him trying to coerce her into becoming his personal fucktoy because he took her in, he’s keeping her safe?? so she owes him for her life and nothing is free in this world. willing to go dark/kinky as hell w this sooo !!

a gruff lone wolf older man having to travel across dangerous territory with a perky and positive younger woman. because like??? daddy kink??? in the apocalypse??? sign me up. him teaching her to shoot and hunt, her making him happy and protective in ways he hasn’t been for a long time. just them needing each other and becoming embroiled in this daddy/daughter type thing but they also can’t keep their hands off each other and fuck at any safe (or unsafe) moment :-)

slave trade and breeding farm things. like maybe women becoming rare and so they’re sold off to men who want a wife/plaything/breeding mate. or like farms popping up because the population has declined and humanity needs to be kickstarted so women are kept to be bred by anyone who can get to the farm.

some family members trying to wait out the apocalypse together but things start getting wild due to the isolation and their dependency on each another for company/entertainment. can go dark with this as well.

the apocalypse is not zombies but monsters and they’re here to show why they’re the superior species. so many potential plots with this but??? every monster getting rewarded with a human pet as congratulations for their victory??? or the monsters hunting humans for fun and ruining them when they get caught?? or a human gets assigned as a relief toy for a group of monster soldiers??? idk so many ideas, so little time!

and literally any other fucked up plot idea welcome.

tbh just these ideas in general, don’t have to be apocalyptic. any of the plots can be taboo and dub/noncon if ur feeling it but they don’t have to be if you’re not comfortable with it. with any of the plots that feature groups we don’t have to write them all at once, we can focus on individual dynamics at a time (unless you’re feeling gangbang things 👀). please SEND ME A MESSAGE if you’re interested in any of them though so we can get some plotting off the ground!!

[callistochan87]

Tonight's CS excerpt

Tumblr didn't cut this one off!!! Apparently 2700 words = Too Much, No, how dare. 2, 170 words = fine and good, okay, do it. ???

I probably won't keep this except, at least not how it is. I'm trying to aim for the concept a sort of collective unconscious group-think (and what if one person in the crowd is not a part of that), so it was more how to get that feeling across from the POV of someone in the group. If you asked any one of them to describe it, they'd say they're just a close-knit family, and they know what the others are thinking because they know them so well, and that's that. But the outsiders? Sure, they can care about them, but they can't quite 'read' them the same way...it's a little unsettling, deep down.

also I call it an except, but this is literally all I wrote tonight so uhh yeah, feeling things out here, i really just want to get to the plot stuff but also need to Establish Things so. yeah.

The Dessler house hadn’t changed much during the 35 years they’d lived there. They lived in a tidy little house that was built around the 1970s, with brightly-coloured siding that was reminiscent of the artistic character of Old Town, and shutters reminiscent of a Cape Cod style house. It didn’t look big enough to hold a couple and three children, but somehow, against all odds, it did.

The inside looked the same as it always did too. There was some godawful wood panelling in the living room, near the wood stove, that was likely original to the house. Shelby had never liked it and thought they ought to rip it out, but to Eric it brought a very familiar comfort—something warm and cozy, like a fire roaring in a little log cabin. It was there that Eric found his father Alexander, trying to teach his grandson Tucker how to play chess, while the smells of roasted chicken and mashed potatoes wafted from the kitchen.

Alexander looked very much like Eric, with greying auburn hair and skin that looked ruddy after a lifetime of flying. Eric assumed he would look similar when he was older, as did Alexander, but neither of them actually said it aloud. Eric didn’t think that far in the future.

By contrast, Tucker had little resemblance, with dark brown hair that stuck out in odd directions and dark eyes. But then again, his father looked like a completely different person. Whereas Eric and Shelby had inherited their parents’ reddish hair and pale skin, something had gone absolutely screwy with Garrett’s genetics—he had Alexander’s brown eyes, and Anne said her father had dark hair like his, but visually he was the odd duck out.

“Now these little fellers, they can only go straight—” Alexander moved the black pawn in a line to demonstrate his point, “—or diagonally.”

A ladle banged hard against metal. Tucker was clearly losing interest fast, judging by the way he fidgeted. He rubbed his eyes, ran a hand through his hair, tried moving the pieces around the board in illegal moves. It was a bit much—Tucker was only two; his father hadn’t even begun to trty and teach him chess until he’d started school. Old enough to sit still and listen. Alexander knew that—but it kept Tucker away from the kitchen for the missus to cook in peace.

“Ah, Chris, love, good to see you!” he said, delight spreading on his face when he spotted Christine. He stood, embraced her as fiercely as he’d embrace his own daughter, and kissed her on the cheek, “Sit down, sit down, I—oh hell, you didn’t need to bring anything.”

Christine had brought a dessert. Not typical of her, they both knew.

“I need to do something,” she said, moving towards the kitchen, “We had this big bag of flour we got from food rescue and it needed to be used up yesterday. There’s only so many biscuits I can make.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say no,” he said, “The kids will like ‘em.”

Inside the kitchen, they found Eric’s mother Anne at the stove top, trying to mash potatoes; Shelby, her red hair thrown into a sloppy bun, was at the kitchen table trying to braid her niece's hair into a French braid. Her eyes were narrowed in concentration.

“Hi Shel.”

“Hey Chris,” she said, “You know how to do a French braid?”

“No.”

“Damn,” she said, “I’m struggling here.”

Garrett’s other child, five year old Kenzie, squirmed.

“Aunt Shel, this is boring,” she said.

“Look kiddo, you wanted your hair braided,” she said, “It means you gotta sit there for a while.”

“No, it’s fine, you don’t have to do that,” she said. Her eyes spotted the container in Chris’ hands and her face lit up, “Aunt Chris brought cookies?!”

“Yeh’ll wait until dessert,” Anne said. Shelby took the container as Kenzie ran off. Eric looked around. The presence of his children usually meant that Garrett was there, but his car wasn’t in the driveway.

“Where’s Garrett?” Eric said.

“Hell if I know,” Shelby said, rolling her eyes, “He showed up this morning, dumped them here, then left. What are we supposed to do?”

They were sharing looks. There was a certain mood wringing itds way around the kitchen, something more than an annoyance. A deep, abiding, persistent dissatisfaction shared among all of them. Garrett knew better. Garrett needed to make an effort. Anne had spent years raising three children and that was exhausting enough without raising her two grandchildren whenever they were at their father’s place.

“Usually he shows up for a free meal,” Eric said, pulling a chair out for Christine. She sat. She looked out of place among the sea of pale, freckly red.

Alexander made a noise, barely heard over the range hood fan and the children screeching in the living room. “Ach, who knows any more?” and he abruptly changed the subject: “How’s your father doing?”

“Fine,” Christine said, “He’s planning a fishing trip in the summertime. I think at Blatchford Lodge.”

“Ah, there’s plenty to do there,” he said, “Are you and Eric going?”

“No,” she said, “Eric works that week, I think. I’m staying here.”

“No father-daughter fishing trip?” Alexander said, his voice light. Half-teasing, but half-serious. The collective mood shifted. They thought it would be nice, even necessary, for Christine and her father to spend some time alone…a couple months more and perhaps the sting would have eased…they’d both spent so much time taking care of Leslie that some time alone to get to know each other again would be good. It was a solid plan.

Certainly, Christine had never expressed much interest in fishing, while everyone who knew Joe Schumacher knew he loved it whenever he could, so it was a bit of a compromise on Christine’s part. Not that it was the first time she’d compromised on things. They found her a little hard to read. Certainly, her mother had been a bit overbearing, but she had never—when her mind was still intact, that is—forced Christine to compromise on anything, so they weren’t really sure where they’d gotten it from. Joe didn’t seem the sort to force his child into some gender-based passivity. Joe didn’t seem the sort to force anything.

They weren’t really sure what Joe was for, to be honest, but he was a nice fellow and being a little hard to figure out wasn’t cause for concern.

Christine blinked slowly, seeming distracted by the smell of food. Her eyes looked distant, as though she were mentally somewhere else.

“Oh, no no. I burned up most of my time off, and I can’t justify the cost. Plus…honestly, I don’t like fishing much. I don’t want to be the buzzkill when I know he’s looking forward to it.”

“Did you ask him?” Eric said. Eric was always one to just voice the thoughts they had, no filter, “Maybe he’s just waiting for you to ask.”

Christine gave him a look, and Shelby matched it. Really.

“If he wanted Chris there, he would’ve asked,” Shelby said, “Really, Eric, think about it for a sec.”

Hurt flashed across his face. “You don’t know—”

“It’s fine,” Christine said, “No, he didn’t ask me to come. He just asked me to check the mail while he was away and maybe mow the lawn if it looks scraggly. …why are you all being so weird about it?”

Christine was looking around at the table. They thought she couldn’t sense the collective mood, but clearly she could see by their expressions that something was off.

“Aye,” Anne interrupted, the oven door creaking as she opened it to remove the chicken, “There ain’t naught but the two of yeh left, we thought he’d like to spend more time with yeh one-on-one.”

Christine laughed humourlessly. “After five years of taking care of Mom together, I don’t know if he wants to see me ever again. It was…draining.”

“He’s your dad,” Shelby said, frowning, “Dad would sooner chew his own arm off than ignore us.”

“He’s not ignoring me, he’s just doing his own thing,” she said, “Not every family is as close as yours.”

“There’s not close and then there’s one step removed from Garrett,” Shelby said.

“Hey, come on, don’t insult Mr. S like that,” Eric said.

“Oy, would yeh stop bickering? One of yeh call the kids an tell ‘em supper’s ready,” Anne said, blowing a strand of wavy hair out of her face. It did nothing.

The table had to be very large these days, with both leaves put in, in order to accommodate Alexander and Anne, Eric and Christine, Shelby, Garrett, and Kenzie and Tucker. Not that long ago, the table would have held David Summers, when he and Shelby came up for visits, but between the cheating, the theft, and the divorce, he was persona non grata. The other chair would have been for Beth, who they held no animosity towards, but her divorce from Garrett meant they were reduced to polite hellos if they crossed paths in the grocery store, and little else. Christine was the only in-law left, and might as well have been family for how long they’d known her.

And yet, there was always a sense she didn’t quite belong. She was welcome with open arms, they loved her, but she was not Them. There was a certain unspoken Otherness about her that none of them could place—certainly Eric and Shelby didn’t want to think of it, for she was his wife and her best friend since childhood. Perhaps it was because they followed certain rhythms and patterns and behaviours that neither she nor her father shared—like how they’d grown completely distant since Leslie’s death. Perhaps it was because they couldn’t figure out what was going on in her head—worse these days, as Eric would’ve readily pointed out. She was quiet. It was odd.

Of course, they always thought that none of this mattered, that she was welcome regardless. And in her better days, she did what she could to play that role, but…never quite hit the mark. It was an unspoken feeling, but it was an aura that permeated the whole house. Eric could ignore it when it was just the two of them in their apartment, and Shelby could think she was overthinking if when they went out for coffee—if they even did that; Christine had really cut down whatever socializing she used to do. But when the whole Dessler clan got together, there was something shared in their little group that no one dared voice. Eric would be upset if they did, of course, and there was no need to be rude. But the feeling was still thick in the air, and perhaps Christine could sense it, even if she likely couldn’t put words on it, either.

Every now and then, their feeling bubbled up into words. It started out innocently; Shelby said, “Did you want to see a movie on Friday night?”

“Oh, no thanks. There isn’t anything I really want to see.”

“Me neither, but it’s a chance to go out. We can grab dinner somewhere and head over. No, Eric, girls’ night out, you can’t come.”

“No, it’s fine,” she said, “I don’t feel like dropping fifteen bucks on something I don’t really want to see.”

But the feeling was there, simmering under the surface—Eric sometimes felt as if he wanted to shake the sad out of Christine, but they all knew he couldn’t do that, so Anne picked up the thread instead: “Lord, are you going to spend the rest of your life staying in your apartment?”

Her tone wasn’t overtly rude, but the feeling saturated every word. Even Christine picked up on it, looking at a loss for words.

Eric and Alexander jumped in at almost the same time, the former with more fury in his voice, “Mom, stop it.”

“Yeh used to go out and do things,” she said, “It’d be good for yeh to get out. Sometimes yeh need to force yourself.”

“Life’s too short to watch so-so movies,” Christine said, apparently trying to laugh it off, but didn’t really laugh.

“Life’s too short and here yeh are mopin’ ‘round the place,” she said, “Yeh’re not helpin the mood here, is all.”

“Anne, that’s enough,” Alexander said sharply. Eric stood so fast that he nearly toppled his chair over; Kenzie and Tucker both jumped.

They could offer verbal protest against the collective thought, but they couldn’t disagree with the sentiment, even if the wording wasn’t how they, individually, would do it. Christine’s face had gone red with embarrassment, and she stood too.

“Well then, I’ll excuse myself,” she said, “Sounds like you’ll be much happier without me—Eric, no. I’m not going to have you get into a row with your mother, let’s just go.”

The feeling lingered in the air, pressing in on all sides. They loved her, but she wasn’t Them.

[seijorhi]

Fracture

i apologise in advance.

Miya Osamu x female reader

TW non-con, dub-con, psuedo-infidelity, referenced character death, angst, drunk reader, gaslighting, age gap, the slightest hint of nsfw

‘Yer still coming home for summer, right?’

How many weeks had your sister spent lovingly bullying you into coming down? How many hours had you spent listening to her gush over the phone about how excited she was?

And until about three months ago, you’d been excited too. 

Despite the ten or so years between the two of you, there was nobody on earth you loved more than your sister. When you were sixteen years old and your parents passed away in a car accident, she was the one who stepped up to take care of you, putting a roof over your head, making sure you ate, slept and kept up your grades, balancing two jobs to do it. 

And she grumbled and you fought, but she’s the only reason you managed to keep it all together enough to graduate high school, and when it came time for you to leave home for university, she was the one blinking back tears and loudly complaining about you ‘abandoning your poor older sister in her time of need’.

As if she hadn’t sat with you for hours, pouring over your options and gently nudging you in the direction of Tokyo. 

“It’s just a few hours away,” you’d told her. “I’ll come back and visit you all the time.”

There was truth to that. The first six months of uni, you came home every other weekend arms full of expensive textbooks and mountains of assignments to write, but then she met Osamu.

You’ve never seen anybody fall so hopelessly in love as quickly as she had. Miya Osamu may as well have hung the damn moon in the sky for how your sister looked at him. And you suppose you can’t really blame her; he was stupidly tall, broad shouldered and handsome. Even back then his restaurant was a wild success, the man was talented and clearly knew how to cook. Nice was the wrong word to describe him, but Miya Osamu was good, and so long as he made your sister happy, that was enough for you.

And it wasn’t like he was the one to drive you away. 

Osamu liked you – he let you camp out in his restaurant and work on your assignments when you desperately needed a change of scenery, stopping to humour you with conversation if it was quiet. He made you laugh, he was interesting, and the more your sister brought him around, the more you realised that you actually kinda liked the guy. 

Things were just easy between the two of you, you never had to pretend to be anything but what you were.

You were the one who started putting space between you and her. It wasn’t intentional, at least not on their part, but somewhere along the way you’d started to realise that Osamu wasn’t the odd one out anymore; you were. She was building a life with him, and fortnightly visits turned into monthly ones, and then eventually it became once every few months and after that only on holidays and special occasions – their wedding being one of them.

At Christmas, cheeks flushed with alcohol, she’d pulled you into a one armed hug, pouting into your sweater. “You never come visit us anymore,” she’d sniffled dramatically, “I miss you.”

But it was Osamu – fingers laced with your sister’s, a hint of a smile curling at his lips – who’d voiced it. “Come spend yer summer break with us.”

Three months later you’d awoken to a call telling you that there’d been an accident. Your sister was dead.

Weeks pass by in a blur. Your classes are a haze of droning voices and mindless typing, you submit papers you don’t remember writing and you get good marks anyway. Your friends don’t know how to act around you, everything feels surreal, like you’re moving around in a dream, nothing touches you anymore. It hurts, but you’ve wrapped up that pain and put it someplace safe, seeking it out only when you’re alone and you just can’t bear the numbness a second longer.

The trip you’d promised to take back home to Osaka is the furthest thing from your mind, at least until Osamu calls you in the early hours of the morning, a week or so before the semester ends.

“Yer still coming home for summer, right?”

The word ‘no’ lingers on the tip of your tongue. The last time you’d seen each other was at the funeral, his face blank and hollow, eyes rimmed in red. He’d barely spoken more than a few sentences to you, but he’d stayed by your side the entire time, calmly thanking those who came up to express their condolences. 

You’d lost your sister, but he’d lost his wife. 

“Do you still want me to?” you ask him quietly instead. If you were in his shoes, you’re not so sure that you would. 

Yet Osamu sighs heavily, and you catch a faint clinking sound on the other end of the line, like a bottle being set back against the marble countertop. “I just–” but he breaks off and something inside of your chest tugs. “I want ya here. The house is empty… she’s gone and I… I want ya here. Please.” 

How could you possibly say no after that? Maybe you’ve been selfish, so wrapped up in your own grief and misery. You’d assumed that because Osamu had Atsumu he’d be okay. Not right away, of course, but he’d have that support around him – a support system that you were without.

It didn’t enter your mind that perhaps he was struggling too. That he was spending night after night alone in a house etched with memories of her. And just as you’d thought that Tsumu was the one keeping his head above water, maybe he was offering a hand to do the same for you. 

—

He’s waiting for you on the porch when your taxi pulls up on the kerb. The driver’s nice enough to help you with your bags, but Osamu is quick to intercept, waving off the help with an impatient huff that almost makes you laugh.

“Yer here,” he says once he sets them down on the porch, grinning as he tugs you into a warm embrace.

It’s then that you get a good look at him, a proper look – and for a moment, you’re taken aback. You haven’t seen him since the funeral a few months back, granted, but Osamu doesn’t look the way you imagined him to – especially after your call the other night. There’s no hint of pallid skin, no bloodshot eyes with heavy bags underneath or a 5 o’clock shadow on his face. No, even with his dark hair still a mess, dressed in jeans and his Onigiri Miya tee, Osamu looks good. Healthy even, if the way the sleeves of his shirt cling to his biceps is any indication. 

It takes you a second to realise that you’re staring, because Samu chuckles, brushing past you to bring your stuff inside.

“Y’know, most people start with a hello,” he calls over his shoulder. 

Your cheeks heat, a hint of shame curling inside of you. Were you expecting him to be an inconsolable wreck? You know better than most that grief messes with people differently, and it’s not fair of you to judge him, however unintentionally, for not fitting that image of the grieving husband.

It’s a good sign. 

“Hi, Samu,” you reply somewhat sheepishly, following him inside.

He’s already walking towards your old bedroom, the ‘guest room’ now (though you and he both know it’s always been yours), leaving you to trail behind the older man. Your intention is to stop him from going to too much effort, but as you walk past the living room, something catches your eye.

Or rather, the absence of something. Faltering in your step, it takes you a second to realise what’s missing, but as you glance around, brows furrowing in confusion, it hits you. 

The pictures of you and your sister, the cute ones with her and Samu, the old family snaps that used to line the walls and sit on the TV unit, they’re gone. And it’s not just the pictures. The artwork your sister had painted that used to hang by the wall next to the kitchen, the little pot plants she’d doted on like children, hell, the throw that she’d knitted one winter that was always lying on the couch; they’re all gone.

The room feels almost alien without them, unfamiliar and cold. He’d hung up some cool photography stuff to fill in some of the spaces, but instead of homey it just felt… modern. Like the pictures you see in magazines of staged houses that nobody actually lives in. 

And you must have been standing there for a while, because you don’t notice it when Samu comes back to find you still holding your purse, gazing around like a lost child.

“I didn’t get rid of ‘em, if that’s what yer thinking.”

You turn to face him, except Osamu isn’t looking at you. He’s gazing at the walls around you both, his face strangely impassive – except for his eyes. It’s impossible for you to miss the hurt that swims there, the faint sheen they didn’t hold only moments ago. “I packed them away – they’re in yer room if ya want to look through any of it, it’s just…” he trails off, finally glancing back to look at you. And once again, you feel that flicker of guilt slowly eating away at you. “It was painful, seeing her face everywhere.”

Before you left your apartment that morning, you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t cry today – but the tears come unbidden, and one moment you’re standing there staring at him and the next you’re choking on a sob, hand coming to your lips to try and stifle it.

Osamu’s there in a second, solid arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. He doesn’t say a word (what’s there to say anymore?) he just hums softly, stroking your back with a gentle hand as you fall apart once more.

—

It’s surprisingly easy for the two of you to fall into a rhythm. There’d been some part of you that was hesitant about this whole thing – despite having a relatively good relationship with your brother in law, you knew that the only real connection between the two of you was your sister.

Without her, living in the same space and trying to navigate around the holes that she’d left, you’d expected it to be at least a little awkward between the two of you. But with Osamu working full time, it was kind of a non-issue. Aside from the first day when he’d taken the morning off to help you get settled, he was usually gone before you woke up, and most nights he wasn’t home until nine or ten. How he worked such long hours six days a week without collapsing out of sheer exhaustion was beyond you, but you tried to make things easier for him, cooking dinner for the two of you.

“Y’know ya don’t have to do this every night, right?” he asks you one night, sticking the leftover chicken into the microwave. “I have a restaurant, I can sort out my own dinner.”

You don’t tell him that despite being a rather terrible cook, it was one of the things your sister made sure to do every night in the weeks following your parents’ death. You’d spend most of your day holed up in your room if you weren’t at school, but dinner was the one time you’d sit and talk with her. It became a ritual; something sacred and special between the two of you.

You’re a better cook than she was by far, no comparison for Osamu, of course, but it’s the only way you really know how to help with… whatever this is. 

Instead, you just offer him a wry look from your position on the couch, “And yet, you never do.”

He scoffs at that, a hint of a smirk curling at his lips, “Why would I eat there when I know yer cookin’ for me?”

—

Of course, as easy as it is to slip into living with Osamu, you can’t escape what happened there forever. 

It doesn’t slip your notice the first night you spend there; the spare toothbrush in your bathroom, the decidedly masculine body wash in the shower, or how one of the shelves in the vanity was stocked with shaving cream and cologne and a few odd skin care products. You’d assumed that they were Atsumu’s, spares stashed away for the odd nights he crashed here. There’s another bathroom off the master bedroom, so you know it can’t be Samu’s stuff.

Except you find yourself proven wrong one night, when fresh from your shower and clad only in a fluffy white towel, you open the door to find a shirtless Osamu filling the space, one arm propped up on the doorframe. 

“Anyone ever tell ya yer a bit of a bathroom hog?” he asks, smirking down at you.

And you’re so taken aback, utterly confused as to why he’s standing there half dressed, why it matters how long you take in the bathroom – never mind that the only thing covering you from complete nakedness is your towel – that you can only stand there, gaping like a fish as he laughs, takes you by the shoulders and physically shifts you out of the way as he slides on past.

It takes you until the following morning – Osamu’s sole day off – to ask him about it, clutching nervously at your cup of coffee while he busies himself making breakfast for the two of you. 

“Samu, um, about last night…” you timidly begin. 

He glances up at you from the stove, a single eyebrow raised. “What about it?”

Your cheeks are already burning, eyes darting between his face and the mug in your hands as you struggle to find the right words to bring it up without making things weird. “Well, I-I was just wondering… um, why you were using my bathroom?”

You’re not sure what kind of reaction that you’re expecting, but the dark look that flashes across his face isn’t it. For a split second, your insides clench, terrified that you’ve said the wrong thing–

But as quickly as it appeared, Osamu’s expression smooths over. He exhales heavily, setting down the spoon in his hand as he turns to face you properly, and when your eyes flicker up once more, you realise with a start that it’s pity that’s taken its place. 

And a second too late, the pieces inside your head fall into place.

“Oh.”

Osamu nods only once. “I can’t go in without seeing her lyin’ there… I thought ya knew.”

And it’s like all the air’s been sucked out of the room. She’d died in their bathroom – slipped on the wet tiles and cracked her head open on the edge of their bath, and Samu had been the one to find her. 

Weakly your eyes flutter shut, bitter nausea churning in your gut. How could he stay here, sleep in the next room when–

“Hey, hey, calm down, I gotcha,” Samu’s voice is at your ear, and your head’s spinning, pounding, and you can’t breathe. The mug in your hand tumbles to the floor, your coffee spilling across the wooden floorboards as weak fingers clutch at empty air, and then those arms are around you once more and Osamu’s trying to soothe you.

Breakfast is forgotten as he tugs you towards the couch to sit. And as he holds you, speaks to you in that calm, unwavering voice you try to focus on the scent of him (masculine and earthy, a hint of spice and cedar), the fabric of his shirt under your cheek and the gentle, almost lazy circles he rubs into your side and not the mental image of your sister, lying broken and bleeding on the bathroom floor.

—

It doesn’t take much effort to find the stash of your sister’s things that Samu set aside in your room. You lose hours flicking through pictures of her, smiling through your tears as they dredge up old, happy memories of the two of you.

Even the ones of her and Samu, his arms looped around her waist, resting his chin on the top of her head; she’s always wearing that bright grin that makes your heart ache.

There are a few of the three of you – one from the last time they’d come to visit you in Tokyo and you’d dragged them off to Disneyland. You’re standing between the two of them, beaming at the camera while Samu’s arm hangs off your shoulder and your sister, grinning widely and wearing the minnie mouse ears she’d bought at the first opportunity, tosses up a peace sign. 

Softly wiping away your tears, you set it aside. You’ll have to ask Samu if you can take that one home with you.

—

“What’re ya doin’ tomorrow?”

It’s late, and the two of you are sprawled out on the couch, watching TV with a bowl of snacks between you like the old days when he asks.

“Not much,” you reply. “I was going to go to the markets at some point in the morning and maybe head to the beach after that, why?”

Grey-ish brown eyes flicker across to you, “A few of my old teammates are in town, we’re meetin’ up for some drinks. I want ya to come with me.”

“Oh,” the word slips out before you can stop yourself. “Um, yeah… if you want?”

It ends up sounding more like a question, a fact that doesn’t slip past Osamu if the amused little snort he gives in response is any indication. And it’s not that you don’t want to give up your plans in favour of going with him; you get along pretty well with Atsumu and you’ve met most of his old teammates at least once or twice, it’s just that you’re a little confused as to why he’d want you there to begin with.

They’re all at least twelve years older than you, and while it occurs to you that maybe he’s just inviting you along to be polite (not that that’s ever been his style before) the last thing you want is to be stuck feeling like an afterthought, all but ignored as he and his friends catch up.

“I said I wanted ya there, didn’t I?” He doesn’t wait for a response, “‘sides, Tsumu already asked if you were comin’.”

Which is how you find yourself dressed up for the first time in months, fingers smoothing out the hem of your dress as Samu tosses you a lazy grin from the driver’s seat. “Relax, wouldja? They ain’t gonna bite.”

You know that. They’re good guys, but no matter how much rationalising you try to do, you can’t seem to quell the anxiety eating you up, and the frustrating thing is that you don’t know why you’re feeling it.

He’d neglected to tell you that they weren’t meeting at some bar or restaurant, but at Atsumu’s condo in the city (‘Showy fuckin’ bastard’ Samu’d huffed as he’d pulled up in front of the building), but you suppose it really doesn’t make much of a difference.

“Ya look good,” he compliments, eyeing you for a moment while the two of you wait for the elevator. 

Cheeks warming, you drop your gaze and stutter out a quiet thank you. Apparently unsatisfied, he leans closer, reaching one large hand up to gently ruffle your hair – grinning in satisfaction when you shriek and try to pry it away. “Relax,” he whispers again, the warmth of his breath tickling the bare skin of your neck. “Yer too wound up.”

Distracted by the arrival of the elevator, you fail to notice that instead of returning back to his side, his hand drops to your shoulder.

And it should be easier to do just that once you have a drink in hand. Atsumu greets you with a one armed hug, the only hint of anything out of the ordinary being the way his gaze lingers a beat too long as he studies your face, his eyes sharp and missing nothing. But whatever he sees (or doesn’t see) his expression softens into a smile, “Glad ya came.”

But even as you’re greeted by the others, falling into an easy conversation with Kita and Aran you can’t seem to shift the uneasiness in your stomach. There’s something in the air, a tension nobody really wants to admit to.

And you can’t quite tell if the others are surprised that Samu brought you at all, or if it’s just because you’re a living reminder of a tragedy that’s still fresh and raw, and everyone’s trying to pretend that it’s not. You don’t blame them for it, of course, they only mean the best. But you can see it in the way Suna side eyes you every now and then, how skilfully Akagi skirts anything that could touch a nerve when he comes up to chat.

It’s like they’re all walking on eggshells – though whether it’s for your benefit or Osamu’s, you’re not entirely sure. For his part, Samu sticks close, keeping your drink topped up, an arm slung over your shoulders as the afternoon wears into the evening. 

Yet despite that, the alcohol you’re drinking far too quickly starts to work its magic, filling your body with a warm, pleasant little buzz, and you actually start to enjoy yourself. You laugh easier, giggling when the twins start to bicker, gasping in wicked delight when Suna offers to show you certain embarrassing photos of both of them on his phone (he has quite the collection), even letting Gin and Tsumu drag you into taking shots with them.

And all the while, Samu watches you, a soft smirk playing at his lips.

—

By the time he unlocks the front door and you stumble back inside, you’re absolutely plastered, giggling at nothing and tripping over your own feet.

As always, Samu’s there to catch you, strong, muscular arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you flush against him. “Careful there, princess,” he laughs.

You grin up at him, carefree and heartbreakingly beautiful. For the first time in months you feel light, you feel amazing and you don’t want this to end. Kicking your heels off, you skip inside, leading him by the hand. “Samu,” you call back over your shoulder. “I wanna dance.”

“Nobody’s stopping ya.”

“But there’s no music,” you pout, and once again he chuckles, letting you go to settle back into the leather couch as he pulls out his phone. A moment later a familiar, lively melody floods the living room, and you let yourself become lost to it. It doesn’t matter that you’re drunk and dancing alone, Samu’s dark eyes following your every move, you’ve never felt so free.

Arms raised in the air, hips swaying hypnotically to the beat, you lose track of time. It could’ve been minutes or seconds or a whole hour, but suddenly you’re not alone anymore – Samu’s there with you. His cologne invades your senses, why does he always smell so good? His body’s warm, almost hot as he slots himself behind you, caging you against him. 

“Fuck, baby,” he growls, his voice sending shivers running down your spine. “Yer a little tease, ya know that?”

And there’s something wrong with that, you know there is, but you can’t seem to think of what it is – not when the weight of his hold’s impeding your movement. A pout adorns your face, a soft, almost petulant whine escaping your lips as you try in vain to untangle yourself, “Samu, lemme go. I wanna dance.”

He huffs out a laugh, but that doesn’t sound right either. “Don’t wanna dance with you, pretty girl.”

There’s something hard pressing against your lower back, and his hot breath ghosts over your neck a moment before lips descend to suck on the sensitive flesh.

In a split second, all that blissful, warm, drunken happiness evaporates. Samu groans lowly, his chest rumbling at your back, but there’s a pit of something cold and urgent that’s seeping through your veins, distant, foggy alarm bells tolling inside of your head and you don’t understand what’s happening, but you know that you don’t like it.

You want it to stop.

“S-Samu,” you whine, shifting uncomfortably against his hold. 

This time he listens, drawing back just enough that he can turn you around to face him. And those familiar eyes are hooded and dark, burning with an intensity that makes you want to recoil even as he stares down at you, taking your cheek in hand.

You don’t even realise that you’re crying until his thumb’s brushing away your tears. There’s nothing comforting or pleasant (nothing of the Samu you know) on his face as he studies your fearful expression, but eventually he lets out a heavy sigh.

“She was positive I was cheatin’ on her,” he admits. “Did she ever tell ya that?” He pauses for a beat waiting for a reply, but when it’s clear that you don’t have one for him, he just scoffs, “No, ‘course not. That’d be admitting that not everything about our life was picture perfect, and heaven fuckin’ forbid we do that. Y’know, that's why she wanted ya back here so bad. She needed a buffer.”

Bitterness clings to every word like poison and you flinch, renewing your struggles to get away. Not that he lets you – the moment you start to squirm the arm around your waist tugs you closer, anchoring you against him. The tears come faster, followed by soft, hiccuping sobs, but Samu seems beyond caring at that point.

“Stupid bitch never could see what was right in front of her face. That’s what we were fightin’ about that night; she said she was gonna leave me.”

Your heart clenches, fear pooling in your gut, but Samu just smiles at you, a mockery of sweet tenderness, reaching back to tuck a stray lock of your hair behind your ear. “But you know I’d never hurt my pretty girl, don’t ya, baby?” he asks. “Just want a taste tonight.”

You don’t even have time to suck in a breath before he’s kissing you, cradling the back of your head as his mouth moves hungrily against yours.

And all you can taste is the whiskey on his tongue.

—

You can’t tear your eyes away from your reflection in the mirror, the faint, reddish blemish colouring your neck.

A hickey.

Tentatively, as if trying to prove that it’s real and not a figment of your imagination, you prod at the mark, only to wince at the tenderness. Definitely real.

You’d woken up to an empty house – unsurprising considering it was well past ten and you knew Osamu had work today – with your head pounding and your mouth uncomfortably dry. Wracking your brain, you can’t seem to conjure up a rational explanation for the bruise. Granted, you can’t really remember much of last night, only fragments of being at Atsumu’s place, and certainly nothing after you’d started taking those shots.

Which doesn’t make the uneasiness sitting heavy in your stomach any easier to take, because you know that you hadn’t been cosying up to anybody before you’d lost track of the night, and if it had happened after, then surely Samu or one of the others would have stepped in and put a stop to it.

And that should’ve been more of a comforting thought than it was, because if it didn’t happen at Atsumu’s then that meant it happened afterwards, when you were here with Samu.

Your heart thumps unevenly against your ribs.

Osamu. Your dead sister’s husband, your brother in law. 

A hickey on your neck isn’t just a kiss. It’s not a simple, drunken peck against your lips, it meant that somebody had sucked on the skin, bitten at it, kissed until blood vessels broke – it’s not the kind of thing that happens accidentally. 

A wave of nausea threatens to overtake you, and you barely manage to make it to the bathroom before you’re violently emptying the contents of your stomach into the porcelain bowl. And you know as you collapse onto the cool tiled floor, shaking just a little, that this time at least, the alcohol isn’t to blame.

You know Samu; you trust him implicitly. Whatever happened, it must have been a mistake or something. You’d both been drinking, and he’s still grieving and–

There’s no point jumping to conclusions or working yourself up any more than you already have. You’ll just bring it up with him when he gets home, you decide. 

Yet anxiety and guilt gnaw at you as the hours crawl by, you’re half tempted to pick up your phone and just call him to ask point blank. The clock feels like it’s mocking you every time you glance up, and while you try your best to distract yourself with household chores and then busying yourself with dinner, none of it works for long.

By the time he does stride through the door, a little before ten, you’re an anxious wreck, all but wringing your fingers as you sit rigid and tense at the table. Most nights you eat before he gets home, hunger getting the better of you, but tonight you don’t seem to have much of an appetite. 

“Smells good,” he comments with an easy grin, toeing off his shoes and dropping his wallet and keys by the door.

You open your mouth, but the words seem to get stuck in your throat as he drops a kiss down on the top of your head and walks on past to grab a bowl from the kitchen.

“I’m starving.”

Instead, you just swallow nervously as he pulls out the seat next to you and sits, not wasting another second before digging in. Your eyes quickly dart over to study him, but you don’t see any hint of guilt or unease on his face. He just looks like the same old Samu, a little tired maybe, but otherwise totally normal, and so you force yourself to pick up your spoon and follow suit. 

And he’s never been one to fill silences with meaningless chatter, but tonight the quiet between the two of you feels oppressive, every clink of metal against ceramic echoing too loudly, every chew, every swallow setting you on edge. You can’t even taste the food, your stomach too twisted in knots for you to feel anything but nauseous after a few bites. 

“… Is everything okay?” he asks after a few minutes, and it’s so sudden amongst the tense silence that you visibly jerk, almost dropping the spoon you’d been toying with. 

You glance up to find him staring, brows furrowed in concern, and once again your stomach flips. It’s now or never.

“Um… did anything happen last night?” you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Osamu’s frown deepens fractionally, and he tilts his head as your fingers twist in your lap, “What d’ya mean?”

Did we kiss? The words dangle on the tip of your tongue, but as you nervously meet his eyes, you find nothing but confusion and concern there. And for a moment, you almost speak them, but then Samu’s reaching across the table to take your hand in his, and as his warm palm swallows up yours, you lose your nerve.

“You sure yer okay?”

Whatever happened, he doesn’t remember it and neither do you. 

Smiling tightly, you nod. “Yeah, it’s nothing. Nevermind.”

There’s no reason for you to drag him through the mud for this, you’re already feeling enough guilt and shame for the both of you.

—

You try to put it out of your mind, but it’s not that easy.

Lying awake in bed at night, your brain unwittingly turns over possibilities of what else could’ve caused the mark if not Osamu. Guilt gnaws at you every second that you’re around him and all the while he’s painfully oblivious to it all.

He’s always been affectionate with you, but all those stray, unthinking touches now carry a different weight with them. You find yourself ducking away from them more often than not, pretending that you don’t see the almost wounded look in those greyish-brown eyes when you do. You start to avoid him, finding other places to be whenever he’s home.

And you hate yourself for it, because Osamu’s been nothing but faithful to your sister for as long as you’ve known him. You’re the one acting like there’s something wrong between the two of you, like he’s treating you any differently than he always has when you know that’s not the case.

You know that, but when you catch sight of the fading bruise in the mirror, your stomach twists into knots all the same. 

There are excuses and justifications aplenty, but none of them make you feel any better. You still find yourself sniffling into your pillow, swallowed up by your guilt when you imagine how devastated your sister would be if she knew.

You’d let her husband kiss you. Being drunk and miserable and grieving didn’t change that. Whether he knew it was you or mistook you for her; it doesn’t matter. Maybe it was a mistake, letting him talk you into coming.

Things were still too raw, too fresh. You’d thought that coming here would help, but so far it’s only made everything worse, and unintentionally or not, you can’t kid yourself that your presence is doing anything to help Osamu anymore.

You need to go back to Tokyo.

Somewhat selfishly, you’re tempted to put it off until the weekend, because you know that Onigiri Miya has a stall for the beginning of the summer festival and he’ll be too preoccupied with that to think about anything else – but you just can’t bring yourself to do that to him. 

No, it’s better to rip it off like a bandaid; nice and quick. 

You’d planned on breaking the news over dinner, but as you pick your way through your noodles, you notice that Samu’s quieter than he usually is. Every time you risk a glance up he’s staring at the table, looking entirely lost in thought, and it just doesn’t feel like the right time to bring it up.

Tomorrow, you decide, you’ll cook his favourite for dinner and tell him then.

—

The knocking startles you from your sleep with a jolt. It’s quiet, hesitant almost, but you’ve always been a light sleeper.

“Samu?” you croak out, fumbling blindly for the phone at your bedside to see what time it is. 

The door opens, a crack of light from the hallway spilling into your room as Osamu looks in. “Sorry,” he murmurs, “I know it’s late, but I need to talk to ya ‘bout somethin’.”

He’s shirtless, clad only in a pair of cotton pyjama pants, but he doesn’t look to be in any immediate kind of trouble. Still, he wouldn’t have disturbed you in the middle of the night if it wasn’t something important, so you blearily wipe the sleep from your eyes and force yourself to sit up as he slips into your room and shuts the door behind him.

“What’s wrong?”

He hasn’t bothered to turn on the light, and even with the moonlight streaming in through your window, his face is cast in shadow as he takes a seat on the edge of your bed. And it’s silly, especially considering he’s the one who’s shirtless right now but it’s hard not to flush at the realisation that you’re only wearing a thin, satiny slip. You feel almost naked – he’s seen you in bikinis before, but it feels different here, when he’s the one in your bedroom.

“You asked me the other day about what happened the night we went to Tsumu’s,” he begins, his voice quiet and soft in the early hours of the morning, and suddenly your state of dress is the last thing on your mind. 

Swallowing tightly, your pulse quickens and you still, waiting for him to continue.

And you feel, rather than see, the way he stares at you, inching a fraction closer when you don’t immediately answer. “And I lied. Or I didn’t exactly tell ya the full truth.”

“Which is?” you force out.

Samu’s shoulders rise and fall as he takes a deep, slow breath in and exhales heavily. “You were drunk and ya came onto me, tried to kiss me.” You flinch, a choked sound escaping your throat at the blunt admission, but he’s quick to reach for you, his hand coming to rest on your knee, squeezing it reassuringly. “And in the heat of the moment, I let ya.”

Hot tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but the moment you try to turn away from him, biting your lip and trying to blink back the tears, he stops you. 

“Osamu–”

“‘Cause I’ve spent years waiting to kiss those lips, an’ I’m tired of pretending we both don’t want this.”

And he’s kissing you; soft and sweet and gentle, his lips molding to yours as he cups the back of your neck. You wonder if he can feel your pulse racing under his fingertips as he draws himself closer, groaning into your mouth.

It doesn’t matter that your hands are on his bare chest, pushing at him, hitting him – those muscles aren’t just for show; he’s immovable. The more you squirm, trying to extricate yourself so that you can plead with him to stop–

This is a mistake. A horrible, awful misunderstanding. He’s upset and grieving and not thinking clearly and you have to stop this.

He doesn’t know what he’s saying.

– the more his grip tightens until it starts to hurt and you’re whimpering into the kiss. Your tears are wetting his cheeks, but he doesn’t care, won’t stop and there’s a panic that rises within you every second that you’re entangled with him.

“Don’t do this,” he mutters, breaking the kiss as a sob rips its way free from your throat, “Don’t pretend ya don’t want this, baby. I know ya do. Stop being a little fuckin’ tease.”

He leans back in, intent on capturing your lips again, and in an act of desperation you reach for his face, cradling his cheek in your hand. “Samu, please,” you beg, wide, imploring eyes searching his face for any hint of a reprieve. “You’re scaring me. Stop, please, j-just for a second.”

Just a second, that’s all you need to try and snap him out of whatever the hell this is. One second. 

Osamu stills, his face mere inches from your own, his body hovering atop yours. His breath, ragged and uneven, ghosts over your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake, but you don’t dare move as he leans into the touch, grey eyes fluttering shut.

He sighs, the sound almost like a shiver. “Ya don’t need to be scared, ‘m gonna take good care of my girl.”

He doesn’t give you the chance to say anything else, not as he forces himself onto you once more. You used to marvel a little at Osamu. Tall, handsome and strong, even in his mid thirties; Samu was fit. Now, straddling your waist, pinning your wrists to the wall with one hand, the other palming at your tits, he dwarfs you entirely. He isn’t impatient, not as he kisses you languidly, not as he slides the soft, satin up your thigh, revealing your underwear.

Your hiccuping sniffles aren’t enough to move him, you’re not strong enough to physically fight him off. He doesn’t pay the tearful, breathless pleas sobbed out between kisses any mind. 

Osamu grabs you by the waist and flips you onto your front, lips brushing at the nape of your neck as he smooths your hair back, and you’re utterly helpless to stop him. 

And as his hand runs down your side and he coaxes your hips up into the air, you almost wish that he was rough. Because this pretense of gentleness, glinting steel masquerading as silk – it’s too intimate, and you feel complicit.

Like you’re willing.

Like you want this with him.

An act of love as he tugs your panties down to your knees and hums in quiet satisfaction at the sight of your bare cunt, glistening just for him.

There’s a voice in your head telling you you should be screaming and kicking and snarling like a wild, feral thing, but Osamu’s grabbing at your ass, spreading it to get a better look, his thumb gliding along your slit and all you can think about is the picture he’d packed away, the one of the three of you at Disneyland. 

Samu’s arm slung over your shoulder, and your sister’s bright smile.

He spits; a warm, fat glob of saliva hitting your pussy, and as it slowly dribbles down the only sound that leaves your lips is a soft, broken whine. You don’t fight him when he takes his cock in hand and guides the flushed head, pre-cum already oozing at the tip, along your cunt, you just lie there, a toy for him to move and manipulate however he wants.

“You’ll forgive me for this, I know ya will,” he murmurs, softly squeezing your hip just once as something thick and blunt presses at your entrance. 

But it doesn’t matter, not as his cock sheaths itself inside of you with one hard, brutal thrust, because you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to forgive yourself.

[toorutsumu]

HAIKYUU BOYFRIENDS (INARIZAKI EDITION)

Just some random boyfie🥺 stuff with cute pictures ily

Suna

He's a chill boyf, doesn't need anything extra like social media bragging and stuff, just needs your presence in his room while he listens to music and smokes stuff (you both have matching custom made bongs im sorry i dont make the rules)

He only uses his phone to take candid pictures of you doing random stuff like brushing your teeth after staying the night (he sees you bending over the sink in his oversized shirt and panties and gets hard while also thinking you're a work of art and he's soft for you🥺🥺🥺)

Most of your dates include staying in, watching movies and shows and cuddling -he likes gory slasher horror movies and makes you watch all of them- you both usually order in a bunk of junk food but sometimes you have cute cooking dates when you guys bake special brownies and cookies

When y'all go out, its usually trips to the skate parks to meet his friends and group dates with his volleyball friends. If you bring him to hangout with your friends he'll grumble alot but will end up coming because he likes you and wants to stay with you 😭

He loves having you around, and although he isn't very over protective he doesn't like it when you get upset because of someone and will glare at them with fox eyes till they back off🦊🦊🦊

He gives you his hoodies for a week and then takes them back just so they smell like you and this becomes a cycle so you end up having different hoodies and jackets every week

LAZY MAKEOUT SESSIONS ON THE COUCH YES YES YES his hand holding ghe back of your neck tilting your face towards him , slow kisses and neck biting im crying:")

Atsumu

Y'all are the crackhead couple lmao well not really you actually help calm him down when he's over excited and he's so energetic that you always have adrenaline pumping through you when you hang out with him

Your dates are mostly outdoors like adventure parks and arcades , you always end up laughing and smiling with a lot of goodie bags full of gifts and souvenirs

If you get tired physically (which lets be honest you might be at the end of dates w this man who can match his energy) he'll be a perfect boyfriend and carry you on his back, so you end up getting a lot (A LOT) of piggy back rides

He buys you tons of stuff all the time, he's always thinking of you when he has to do something other than volleyball, even when hd goes to a convenience store he'll get your favourite snacks and drinks, god bless him when he goes to the mall he'll pick up whole ass outfits for you

Making out in semi public places is your thing- photobooths, roller coaster seats and those private cafe booths all the way in the back

But he can be soft and peaceful for you, takes you to picnic dates where he just lays his head on you lap while you both talk about stuff , you will always end up laughing at his antics and both of you will have very visible heart eyes for each other throughout🥺🥺🥺

Osamu

PERFECT BOYFRIEND aaaaaa i love him😭😭😭

He's just so sweet, will listen to you talk for hours at end ,thinks your voice is perfect , cups your face in his big hands randomly, will bend down to kiss you so that you dont have to stand on your toes to kiss him

He cooks your favourite food and brings them to you in pastel bentos and hands them over to you all shy without making eye contacts but as soon as you start eating his eyes are on your face watching every reaction , you love his food and he loves cooking for you y'all perfect uwu

You guys have very lowkey dates in cute cafes and public parks with long walks hand in hand, he does that thing with his jacket where he zips it open , brings you to his chest and zips it up over you and you're small compared to him so only a small part of your head peeks out aw🥺

He loves posting pictures of you and food together, those pictures in which the table is filled with aesthetically pleasing food and you look so cute and blushy he just cant help but blush too

He kisses you on the doorstep of your house after dates which usually turn into long drawn out kisses , but he's so sweet he wont push for more until you literally drag him into your house for more kisses😠😠😠

Kita

Oh my god he's the cutest he's always so blushy when you hold his hand and will say yes to everything you say because he's so flustered by you dont tease him too much he might combust

He's strict with his teammates but with you he practically melts in your arms, when you hug him by wrapping your arms around his waste from behind he always turns a shade of pink, will shower you with kisses in private

Thinks you are perfect, will have a dazed smile on his face when he stares at you which is all of the time, gets very distracted by you just walking into the room

Buys you both matching pastel hoodies and soft knitted sweaters to keeps u both warm and cuddly, drapes himself over you when he's tired and loves it when you pat his head

When you meet his grandmother, you're very nervous that she might not like you but he tells you that ge thinks youre the best person on earth (he's a poetic mf sorry) and he's sure his grandmother will think the same

Your parents LOVE him, kinda want to hang out with him more, even let him spend the night in your room (excuse me 2 teenagers in a room a full night where did your parents what how im shocked) and he takes full advantage of this, kissing you while doing mundane domestic stuff like doing homework, brushing your teeth aaaaa

He goes on group dates with you and your friends and talks to everyone very politely but always also gives you attention making sure you're having fun you're his no. 1 priority🥺🥺🥺🥺he loves to take care of his baby

[english8muffin]

Cozy winter

Summary: going to the market, being cheeky in the parking lot and a warm cuddly morning sprinkled with some funny-business

Warning: Cute banter, smut (NSFW), fluff

Word count: Around 5300 words!

I want to open this with one of my favorite quotes ever, so if you allow me ;)

“Go into the arts. I’m not kidding. The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven’s sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something.”  -Kurt Vonnegut 

“We need muffins.”

“We don’t NEED muffins, what we need are some fresh fruit and vegetables, ” Henry butts in. You frown and look up at him, “Oh whatever, Hen. You eat your greens, beans, potatoes and tomatoes, while I get fat by munching on some sweet, sweet, delicious chocolate muffins.”

 He sends you a smirk from across the aisle. It was always fun to do mundane things, like going to get coffee together or grocery shopping, when he was home from filming. The last year you went to university it was very hard to be away from him for such a long time, especially when you still lived in Europe. You would fly over to England once in a blue moon, when Henry was in London and your schedule would allow it. Other times your relationship existed out of phone and video calls. It was a rough period, if you have to be honest. But It made the two of you closer and your bond stronger. It’s true what they say, absence does make the heart grow fonder. 

You let Henry know you were going to get the ingredients for the muffins and start pushing the shopping cart in the direction of the baking supplies. As you walk back to the fresh produce section, you get distracted. So many colorful packaging was just screaming your name…

“What the- lovey! I thought you were going to get your muffin ingredients,” Henry cackles and almost doubles over seeing the now full shopping cart.

It took you a second to answer, a bit too focused on his beautiful face and the smile lines that appeared when he laughed. You quickly try to defend yourself, so he doesn’t think you have no self-control, even though, you know your eyes were bigger than your stomach.

“No! I did get them, they’re just underneath the other bags,” you trail off, eyes drifting to the floor. You sigh, “I just saw this aisle with all the snacks. These magnificent snacks. And, Hen, I’ve never wanted anything more in my whole life! And, Hen-Henry! Henry, listen! Stop laughing at me! It was a moment of weakness! You can’t judge me! You don’t even know how they taste, I promise you, you will understand once you take a bite of everything!”

Henry wipes away a small tear at the corner of his eye and kisses the top of your head. You stroll around the aisles, trying to work through the rest of your grocery list, but suddenly you stop dead in your tracks.

“Hen,” you say, trying to get his attention. He gives you a hum in return, letting you know he heard you, “why on god’s green earth does my grocery list say ‘sex’?” You tilt your head up to his face, seeing a bashful grin. 

You shake your head, clicking your tongue disapprovingly, “it isn’t even on top of the list! You put your oatmeal protein shake before sex, fuck, you even put curry before sex, you really need to get your priorities straight!”

After getting some more stuff, like pak choi, steak, tofu and the ingredients for Henry’s beloved curry you always make him, you walk to the register. 

The petite Asian lady gives you a smile and takes a little peak at Henry, who was too busy looking at the various Chinese cough drops that are displayed in front of the counter. Her brows rise behind her thick glasses, “哇，大帅哥。你很幸运啊。” (Wow, big handsome man. You are very lucky, ah.) She says, turning back to you and winking. You can’t help but chuckle. Grinning you send her an ‘I know’-look.

Hearing your laugh, Henry looks over his shoulder with a questioning look. But you just smile and shake your head.

You two quickly get everything in the reusable shopping bags you brought with you. It was getting late and more people were getting off of work and wanted to do some last-minute grocery shopping. Henry takes both of the flower printed bags and the two of you walk to the car. It was getting colder, your breath turning into puffs of smoke. You look up at the sky glooming over you. They promised snow tonight. 

Seeing Henry load the bags in the trunk, his ass proudly sticking out in the air, you give it a pinch. You just couldn’t resist. It was just there, so you better make use of the situation. 

Feeling your hand touch his behind, Henry turns around, an unamused look on his face.

“Excuse me, miss. But that is mine,” he says, really playing up his posh accent.  “I sure hope you disinfected those filthy little paws of yours.” He cutely scrunches his nose, doing a once over and trying so hard to keep himself from smiling, but failing miserably. He turns back around and arranges the bags in the booth so they won’t tip over.

There is a moment of silence, just the noise from cars driving up and off the parking. From the corner his eye Henry sees the stare you give him but ignores it with a small smirk.

“You know,” you begin with a cheeky undertone, making him curious, “I bet I could kick your ass,” you grin, looking at him and trying to gauge his reaction. 

“What was that, doll?”

“You heard me, big lad!”

“Oh really?” He asks and looks at you, towering over you like a brick wall. His eyes glimmering with mischief. Yeah, no, this was NOT a good idea. 

You squirm a little and a small nervous giggle leaves your lips.

“Yes, I can. Watch m-AHHHH! HENRY!” You squeal as he lifts you and throws you over his shoulder, fully forgetting you are in public. “Let me down, you caveman!” You laugh, slapping his left ass cheek. But he ignores your plea and just slaps your ass in return. 

Wiggling a little, you challenge him, “Beat me up! Come on, do it!” 

He turns his head and playfully bites the exposed skin by your hip, making you shriek like a little kid. 

Henry lets out a loud belly laugh and puts you back on your feet. As soon as the tips of your Dr. Martens touch the pavement, you get pushed against the car. Trapping you between the icy cold black metal and his warm body. His arm goes around your waist and pulls you closer to his front.

“I love you.” The words are hushed but you hear them loud and clear, making a shiver go down your spine. The both of you look at each other, completely enamored and grinning like idiots. Noses and the apples of your cheeks rosy, bitten from the cold.

“I love you too,” you whisper back. His hand glides inside your coat and underneath the thick knitted jumper you finished to other day. He just needed to feel you. You lean up a little and gently push your lips to his, adoring the familiar warmth that fell over you whenever you’d kiss. Before you can come in for a second smooch, he frowns at you. 

“Thought you were going to beat my ass?” He mocks, trying to imitate your accent. 

Lightly tapping your finger against your chin, you pretend to be in thought. 

“Well, this is much more fun.”

“Hmm, agreed,” he grins, already eyeing your red swollen lips and tilting his head towards yours. 

You hear heavy footsteps coming closer, the wooden floorboards slightly creaking under the weight. It was getting dark outside, the overhead lights in the kitchen casting a homey hue down on the oak countertops. Your ‘cooking playlist’ was filling the room with some gentle tunes. You also had a ‘dancing in the kitchen playlist’ but that one was mostly used in the mornings. You hum along to the melody when stirring in the stew you were preparing for the evening, rocking your hips side to side. The stew was softly bubbling away, spreading an amazing aroma around the house. 

The footsteps stop behind you. A moment later two big, sweater wrapped arms envelop around you, delicately caressing you. Henry lovingly pulls your loose braid to the side and places his head onto your shoulder, trying to get a peak at what was in front of you on the stove. 

“What smells so good in here?” Just then Henry’s stomach makes a loud grumbling noise from the mouthwatering smell going on in the kitchen, you chuckle. 

He had been gaming before this, you could hear the tiredness in his voice, it was a bit lower and more hoarse than normal. Whenever he was tired like this, he’d just turn into your big cuddly bear, you loved it. 

Dinner was almost done. You made one of the dishes your grandma used to make for you when you were younger. You won’t lie, it was pretty difficult at first to decipher the little recipe she send you in the post, but now you knew it by heart. 

“Cantonese style braised beef stew with white radish, bean curd sheets and a side of rice,” you inform him and brush your hand over his, that was placed on your stomach. Hearing that, he has to make sure he’s not drooling.

“And for dessert…” You nod your head toward the piping hot apple crumble pie currently cooling on the kitchen island. “We still have some vanilla ice cream if you want to have that with your pie. I know you want to be healthy, but I just really wanted to make a pie and this one does have filling,” you ramble, joking on the last part about the filling. He probably thought you were pestering him with his diet that most likely didn’t allow him to eat it. 

You wince a bit, feeling him tense against you. “You don’t have to eat it, my love, promise!”

“No petal, you’re just… you’re just so perfect,” Henry admits, pressing a kiss just below the strap of the pistachio green apron you were wearing, nuzzling his nose in your tousled hair.

It was a gloomy Saturday morning in London. If your alarm hadn’t gone off, you wouldn’t have known it was morning already.

Yesterday after dinner, the two of you cuddled up on the sofa, under a warm blanket with Kal snuggled up on your lap. His head resting in your lap, while his tail occasionally slapped Henry in the face, making you burst out laughing and Henry almost choke on the fur. The akita would fondly press his snout deeper against you, really loving the head scratches he was receiving. Both you and Henry were fully satisfied with the tasty dinner you had paired with a glass of wine and were now cheekily flirting with each other while watching a detective movie, of which you missed the plot because you were, well, differently occupied…

Now the bedroom held a calm, soft aura, a dim light streaming in through the linen curtains. You let out a little whimper, not wanting to leave the bubble you are in and stretch out your limbs. A bit sore from sleeping in a weird angle, amongst other things. Behind you, you hear a small sound of protest and before you know it, you are engulfed by a strong arm. Henry hides his face in the side of your neck, keeping his eyes closed, groaning, clearly displeased with the fact it was morning already. 

You smile, this was your favorite kind of morning. Warm and cozy in bed, cuddling with your boyfriend. You turn around, careful to not let any cold air under the duvet, your arm going around the large form beside you and curling your fingers in the mess of curly hair. Henry moaned, burying his face lower, between your breasts. Now fully content and still a bit dazed by sleep, he lets out the most awful snore. Even though he sounded like a drowning goat when he snored, you couldn’t do anything other than coo and gently scratch your fingers on his scalp, lovingly gazing at the man beside you. 

“Are we going to be lazy couch potatoes today?” You chuckle, placing a kiss on his forehead, wild curls tickling your nose as you do so. Your voice was still a little raspy, but Kal apparently still heard you, and pushed open the door to come snuggle in bed with his favorite humans. 

“What time is it?” Henry groans. 

“Around 8.”

“We can be busy bees if you want,” Henry whispered against the swell of your breast, peppering delicate kisses on the bare skin. “Or better yet, busy bunnies.”

Kal was now situated on the end of the bed, head on his paws while the serenity of the room made him doze off. His dad on the other hand was now slowly waking up, as his hand crept lower and lower over your body. You giggled and pushed his hand away.

“There is a child present ,” you motion towards a sleeping Kal, who lays stretched out on the feathery duvet, already heading off to dreamland looking content as ever. Henry lifts his head, peering at his buddy and snorts, “he’s seen much worse, haven’t you bear?” But he doesn’t get acknowledged. 

Laying his head back, he reaches up to push your hair out of your face before grabbing your cheek and pulling you down for a kiss. He places three kisses on your swollen lips, lightly sucking on the bottom one.

“May-,” you try to say something, but he just pushes his mouth harder against yours. Quickly taking the opportunity to stop you from making excuses. A hoarse chuckle rumbles from his chest, as he wraps you in his arms.

“Stop talking, woman, and kiss me back.” You let out a small moan and grip the curls you were playing with moments ago. He deepens the kiss slightly, tongue invading your mouth, surprising you. A subdued hum escapes your mouth, resulting in him grabbing the back of your neck, as the other rests on your hip. The kiss gets deeper and more passionate as the minutes go by. Getting a bit overwhelmed you pull back slowly, softy panting. 

“Hmm, so sweet, darling,” he says smugly, earning a little smack to the chest as a bright blush covers your cheeks. Like it wasn’t already hard enough to resist him and stay in the warm bed all morning, he does this. Henry rolls your naked body over so you’re straddling him, a large hand wraps itself around your hair. He tugs, not too hard though, so he has more access to shower open mouthed kisses on your neck and chest. Leaving you a breathless mess on top of him. His hands trail from the top of your back to your rear, squeezing your cheeks before giving them a fast slap, making you take in a breath. 

From all the shuffling, little snickers and kissing noises, Kal woke up and groaned, irritated that his humans couldn’t just hanky-panky somewhere else. With a last disapproving look, he jumps off the bed, landing with a thump. From the sound of paws hitting the wooden floor and toddling down the stairs, you look over your shoulder, duvet falling down so you sat there fully naked, much to Henry’s delight. 

Then you felt it. It was normal for Henry to get hard in the morning. To be honest, he would be a bit worried if his cock wasn’t hard first thing when waking up.

Involuntarily you grind down, drawing a heavy moan from deep in his chest. Holding intense eye contact with him, you start humping over his bare front, mewling like a kitten in heat. It was embarrassing how he had you wrapped around his finger. A cheeky smile formed on his face, “look who came around.” Your body was practically begging for sex. 

Pouting, you keep on moving your hips in a tantalizing slow rhythm, scratching at his hairy chest. Making sure you kept your eyes on his, he licked his three middle fingers and a second later you feel him reaching between your thighs, wiping his fingers down your slit. Tensing up a little, you try to hold back a grunt at the sensation. 

“Oh darling,” he started, his voice going an octave lower, “what a mess you’ve made.”

He pulls back and observes your reaction when he pops his finger in his mouth.

“Wet and sweet, like always.”

“You are so nasty,” you whisper in total awe at what he manages to do to your body. He snickers and you quickly grab his hand, pushing it back between your thighs, “I didn’t tell you to stop, though.”

Your jaw goes slack, the moment you feel his thick fingers moving in and out of you. He was hitting just the right spot, making you groan and throw your head back. He felt like he couldn’t hold back anymore, he quickly flips you over so he’s on top of you, fully trapping you underneath his body and smashes his mouth on yours. Everything was happening so fast that you couldn’t pay attention to every incredible thing he was making you feel. Taking his cock in hand, he rubs his shaft against you, up and down, pressing it so you could feel the length. You look up at him, veins bulging in his neck, eyes dark, face already becoming flushed. God, he was so sexy. Grabbing your legs, he pushes your knees back so you were completely spread open and at his mercy. 

He curses under his breath and lines himself up with you sticky center. Stifling your moans and pants, by pressing his lips to yours, when he slowly sinks his thick cock inside. 

“Oh my god,” you whine, feeling him stretching your walls apart, pushing himself deeper and deeper. 

“Y’feel so warm and tight, my love. M’so hard it hurts.” Henry whines against your lips, lacing his fingers in between yours. He trails kisses in your neck and under your ear, trying to get as close to you as possible. He loved feeling your body against his. Your walls were so plushy and wet for his cock, he wanted to stay buried in you forever. 

“M’gonna make you feel so good, darling,” he whispers in your ear. You whine softly, getting worked up, “please.”

He smirked, obviously liking your plea. 

Instead of giving you a nice, hard pounding, Henry wanted to go slow. It was still very early in the morning, the both of you still barely awake and he wanted to savor this moment with you.

“Oh, Hen-,” you pant softly, loving every bit of it. As he pushes deeper into you, you can feel his entire weight pressing down against you. The weight comforted you in a sense, like others would with a weighted blanket. He prolonged his strokes, making sure that when he slid out you could feel every centimeter of him, but then slid back in quickly. 

“Fuck.” He grumbles into your neck, “feels so good, love,” he praises, nibbling on the skin under your ear, grabbing a handful of your hair pulling it back. You move you hands from his grasp and push them up his broad shoulders, pulling him closer to you.

“So good,” you moan out to him, feeling his cock nudge at the extremely sensitive spot deep inside your core. He lifts his head to look at you, seeing your mouth formed into the letter ‘o’, head tilted back into the cloud-like pillow and eyes screwed shut. A string of desperate moans falls from your lips. 

This was what he loved, seeing his love, his girl react to the way he was pleasuring her. Just looking at you in this state made his orgasm coil up in the pit of his tummy. He never would have dreamed that another person could give him this feeling, the feeling of utter bliss when you were together. The unconditional love he felt for you was indescribable. 

Henry continues to thrust into you and attaches his lips to yours, feeling you squeeze around him. You manage to spread your legs even wider and wrap them securely around his slim waist, digging your heels just above the globes of his perfectly sculpted ass. 

He was aiming his stokes into the deepest part of you and you felt yourself getting closer and closer to your release. 

“Fuck,” you whimper out to him, digging your nails into the skin of his back. He knew you were about to cum. You let out another loud moan. 

“Come on, petal. Cum f’me,” he pants, trying to coax you. Hearing the almost desperate tone in his voice, combined with the sound of him slapping his hips to yours and the feeling of his cock moving in and out of you was becoming overwhelming. 

“Oh my god!” A loud moan ripples through you, the feeling of your release coming near. 

“Almost, my love,” he moans, speeding up the pace of his thrust. He inhales sharply, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulls you up, quickly pounding into you. Completely losing control, trying to get deeper as if that was possible and lets his forehead rest against yours. With one last push of his hips, you get to your breaking point and cum, screaming. Henry feels your walls clamp around him and let’s go, fully satisfied. The noise he made was an orgasm on its own. He keeps himself against you when he lets go inside of you. You could feel Henry’s cum filling you as you slowly come down from your high. You feel his cum dripping out of you, almost proud of what you made him do. 

He is about to roll off of you to cuddle up beside you, but you stop him by tightening your legs around him. “Please stay like this,” you whisper, your brain still a bit muddled by the amazing orgasm you just had seconds ago. He smiles down at you.

“Don’t be a silly goose,” he kisses your nose, “I would crush you,” Henry says endeared with a cheeky grin and pulls you into his side. You feel warm and safe. You yawn, blinking away when your eyes become watery.

“I can’t move,” biting your bottom lip, you snuggle closer to him, “and my throat hurts like hell.”

Henry lowers his hand to your ass and gives it a firm squeeze, “I’m not surprised. Oh doll, the sounds you were making,” he bites his bottom lip, closing his eyes. 

You laugh and roll your eyes. Henry nipped at your neck, making you erupt into a fit giggles. He chuckles, leaving a kiss on the spot he had just bitten. 

Henry trails his hands up and down your back. You closed your eyes and tangle your leg in between his, really liking the feeling. His chest was heavenly and just being in his arms felt amazing. He almost lulled you back to sleep the moment he began to run his fingers through your hair. 

“That good, huh? Almost fucked you back to sleep,” he chuckles. 

“It was alright, I guess,” you tease him. He raises his eyebrows, eyes twinkling with joy. 

“How would you rate the experience?” 

Tilting your head to look up at him, “Hmm, ten I guess.”

He looked very pleased with that.

“Out of twenty,” you finish. 

“OUT OF TWENTY?” He sobered up, staring at your face with a shocked expression. 

You snicker, climbing into his lap, “No, honey, I was just joking, I’m sorry.” A big pout forming on your face, making you look oh so innocent. 

“If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to put you up on all fours and take you like that, don’t tempt me,” he says, shaking his head. Wiggling your brows you grin and kiss the dimple on his chin. 

“As much as I would enjoy that, I think Kal has to go potty and we have to eat.”

After some hushed pillow talk and hoarse giggles between the silky sheets, you two decide to move downstairs and start making some fresh coffee. When you lift your body out of the bed, a light throbbing shoots between your legs. You almost fall back into the mattress, making Henry roar with laughter. You end up getting a piggy back ride down the stairs, only wearing a v-neck shirt from Henry that fell just below the curve of your ass and showed plenty of cleavage. Your lilac panties were fully on display and your almost black hair looked like a lion’s main on top of your head, but you didn’t care. 

The both of you were still in that bubbly, fulfilled state of mind, looking like two drugged out kids, wearing blissful smiles. When you got to the kitchen, Kal bounded around the corner, coming from the sitting area, his tail wildly sweeping through the air. Eyes sparkling with happiness when he saw his parents finally had left the bed. 

“早上，宝宝” (morning, baby) You greet him, still on Henry’s back. Kal gives you a high “woof” as to say good morning back. After living with Henry and Kal for around eight months now, the akita started to pick up on a few Chinese phrases. He even decided the pet name ‘宝宝’ (bao bao), which means baby or darling, was only to be applied on him and nobody else. 

Every time you would video call with your Chinese speaking friends, and they talked about or to their children, Kal would cheerfully patter over, thinking they were cooing at him instead of the small infant in the background. But you thought it was the sweetest thing ever, he was your little fur baby after all. 

“I’m going to make us some omelets, is that alright with you, darling,” Henry asked, already opening the fridge and looking for the carton of eggs.

“Yeah, ‘course,” you call out to him. You give Kal his breakfast and receive many, wet kisses in return. Shuffling back over to your boyfriend, you lean against the dark green counter with its wooden countertops, and look at him carefully chopping up some bell peppers and onion, only wearing his joggers and a tank top. You were a lucky girl, and you knew it. Henry sends you a grin and winks before turning back to cutting the vegetables.

You begin to brew some fresh coffee for Henry, and put on the kettle for your morning tea. While he was finishing up breakfast, you start to read the newspaper to him. He absolutely adored it when you’d read to him, due to your accent becoming more noticeable. Kal came over to you, stuffing his wet nose against the hand you held out to him. “You’re such a good boy, Kal. Yes, you are,” you tell him in a baby voice, “you’re my little angel aren’t you? 我的小天使” 

You clean the table, after eating your breakfast and get ready for the day. Henry was already out to go on a walk with Kal. It did indeed snow last night and everything outside was hidden underneath a thin sheet of white snow, so you made sure Henry was wrapped up in a thick scarf you made him and a black beanie. After giving you a kiss as if he was off to fight in a war, he and Kal happily walked through the front door, into the freezing cold. Him whistling and Kal buzzing with excitement. 

Brushing your teeth and doing your makeup, you dance through the bathroom, in a good mood. You grab your phone that was propped up against the mirror, planning to put on the podcast you had been enjoying lately. You freeze seeing all the notifications, not having heard your phone due to it being on ‘quiet’. You swallow.

Oh shit.

There you were, plastered on the internet for everyone to see and laugh at. You and Henry making out on the parking lot of the Chinese supermarket. Was he going to be angry with you? It was your fault for teasing him after all. Oh no no no…

‘Henry Cavill and girlfriend were spotted having a steamy make out session outside local grocery store’

The headline read, making your face as red as a tomato. Trying to fight against it, you couldn’t hold yourself from reading the next paragraph. 

Being in the middle of winter, doesn’t stop these two lovebirds from having a heated make out session in a parking lot!

Yesterday early in the evening, Witcher-superstar Henry Cavill was spotted with (to some) much younger girlfriend, designer, Y/N Y/L/N. The two have  recently confirmed their relationship with an Instagram post from Cavill, showing a candid of Y/N, with the short caption ‘My sunshine enjoying the sun shine’. Last month Vogue came out with a video featuring Y/L/N in which Cavill and his dog Kal made an appearance, making fans go wild. It seems like the two really are living the life and we are excited to see more of them together!

Want to know more about the stars? Subscribe to STAR NEWS! 

This was it. You could already hear your sweet grandma, praying to the ancestors to forgive you for your sins, lighting all the incense she could find. You were a disgrace to the family now. It wasn’t that you were ashamed or felt bad about doing it, hell, everybody in the position would gladly sit on Henry’s shoulders and stick their tongue down his throat. You were just disappointed you got caught.

From downstairs you hear the door close with a loud thump and the pitter-patter from Kal’s nails on the hardwood floor, letting you know your two boys were back home. You nervously descend the flight of stairs, holding your head low and tightly clutching your phone in hand. 

“Hey, lovey! you really missed something, Kal and I could practically ice skate over the walking trails, it was so much fun!” Henry says enthusiastically as he hears you wander into the living room. You ignore him and plop down on the couch.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, not meeting his eyes. 

A frown makes its way onto his face. 

“What are you sorry for, sweet girl?” His eyes hold a concerned look, not understanding what you were talking about. You huff out a breath and hand him your phone so he could see the article. 

A roaring laugh sounds through the open space, making your head shoot up. “Yeah, I saw it this morning when I went and checked my Instagram,” he chuckles, face still rosy from going outside. 

“We really gave the paparazzi a field day, didn’t we?” He continues.

“Your ass looks great in this pic, though. Look,” pointing to the one were he had you lifted over his shoulder, but softens his voice when he sees how tense you were. 

“Aw, doll, loosen up, I’m not mad or anything, if that’s what you think. I’m rather pleased now that everybody can see how happy we are and how much joy you bring me,” he lets you know nonchalantly, pressing a smooch to your forehead and starts to march towards the kitchen.

“You want another cuppa, lovey?”

And just like that, you were back in your good mood, perplexed at how well he took all of this. 

Don’t be a silent reader! Show some love by reblogging and commenting, did it make you laugh, scream, smile? Let me know, it would make my day!

Much love, Nahmi xxx

Masterlist can be found HERE!

Want to be notified whenever I post something?

HERE IS MY TAG LIST!

[twoidiotwriters1]

Copycat & The Spider-man —(Marvel Fem!Oc)

A/N: I remembered why I had to put more chapters a week! The second-half ones are super short lmao -Danny

Words: 884

Phase two Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next chapter

Listen to: ‘Yellow’ -by Cenji

xxii: Winter

"Whatcha gonna study?"

Pietro skimmed through the pamphlets. "Cornell looks good..."

"I have zero knowledge on how applications work," She yawned, reading over his shoulder. "Pietro Maximoff: New York's finest architect. I like how it sounds."

"...I'm looking at applications while my sister is hiding. Who knows if she's even living in a nice place?" He dropped the flyer. "It's killing me."

"There was going to be a point in which you'd have to part ways with her," she replied, "this was obviously no one's first choice."

Pietro sighed, he grabbed the towel that was hanging on his desk chair.

"You should get ready."

With Thanksgiving out of the way, C.C. and Pietro focused on putting up the decorations. Her adoptive brother only got presents for her and Tony, she got around nine gifts, all wrapped with newspaper. She placed them under their brand new three but took one to the compound the day before Christmas. She gave it to Vision and asked him to deliver it to Wanda the next time he went to visit her.

"Hi, kids! Come in!"

May welcomed them into her home, warm and with a subtle gingerbread scent in the air. C.C. was guided to the living room, but she quickly sneaked her way into the kitchen.

"I wanna help!" She announced.

The woman gave her a few chores, the boys were helping as well. On the tv, there was a 90's movie they were barely paying attention to, C.C. had never felt as cozy as then. May took a picture (without flash) of the teenagers standing in front of the tree.

Presents were delivered (she'd given Peter a brand new knitted sweater so he didn't miss the jacket she'd stolen from him), hugs were provided, food was shared, and promises of New Year's at times square kept her going.

Places with big crowds weren't a favorite of hers, but Peter held her hand firmly. It was loud too, a bit too much for her, so he got her noise-canceling headphones. She was also wearing sunglasses, given that the place was surrounded by bright screens.

May and Pietro tagged along, but they'd given them a little bit of space.

"Are we going to kiss at midnight?" She asked out loud.

"You want that?"

"I've seen it in movies, I think it's sweet!"

Peter laughed. "I'll kiss you if you want!"

She was usually a bit shy in public, given that they didn't kiss often even in private. The girl was willing to make an exception in special times like this one, though.

"Do you have any new year's resolutions?" She shouted.

Peter tried not to laugh, her headphones didn't allow her to hear properly, so he had to yell too, not that it matter when they were surrounded by a screaming crowd.

"I want to take you on a fancy date sometime, maybe for Valentine's day! It wouldn't hurt to get a job! I can't take you on dates without money, can I?"

"There are lots of things we can do around the city without money!"

"Are they legal?"

"Who do you take me for?" She hit his chest lightly.

"What about you? Got any resolutions?" He put an arm around her.

"I want things to stay exactly as they are," She admitted. "I don't want anything to change."

"Nothing has to change," Peter responded. "I wanna learn how to drive, though."

"It'd be nice to have a license," She pondered. "Yeah, maybe that'll be my resolution too. I'd like to learn how to cook as well, I only know how to make scrambled eggs and sandwiches."

"We'll learn together!"

They continued to list stuff for the year to come, arms tightly wrapped around each other to keep themselves warm.

"New year, new school term," C.C. hit Pietro's shoulders excitedly. "Last half of your senior year! Are you excited?"

"I would be if I had something to look forward to," He rolled his eyes, sipping on his coffee before finishing his sentence. "But after high school, only comes the adulting part. I'll be nineteen this year, I don't wanna grow old! This is my peak!"

"Pietro, I say this as respectfully as possible," She continued. "Men like you usually peak when they're thirty. You have a babyface right now, don't stress."

"I'm not stressed," He corrected. "I have my future secured thanks to Stark, what else can I do but complain as rich people do?"

"Good point," She chuckled. "Hey, do you have loose sheets of paper? I ran out and I forgot to buy more yesterday..."

"I've got some at my desk," He vaguely pointed to his room.

C.C. rummaged through his drawers, and she found a folder with several papers there, although some of them were used. There was one that looked like a copy of a certificate, on it she saw the name "Harley Keener". She took it to the living room.

"Hey, is this something important? If it's like insurance for your bike you shouldn't leave it in a random folder..."

"What?" He read it quickly. "Ah, when Tony moved out they took a bunch of papers back to the compound and I asked if I could use them, you know, to recycle and stuff. Tony gave me a whole box of stuff. It says it's for a Harley Keener, some kind of donation... perhaps it's a bike Tony bought when he was younger?"

"Yeah, maybe," She stared at the paper and shrugged. "Can I use it?"

"It's all yours."

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@ieatpanicattacksforlunch​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @jesuswasnotawhiteman​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @siriuslysirius1107​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @greengarsstuff​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @itsyagirl01​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @23victoria​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @espressopatronum454​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @jkthinkstoomuch

[waiting-on-a-dream]

ANDDD 1, 20, 24 for aurora, slyvan, chandani (pink mao mao <3) xuemei and emile! introduce your new ocs to us, aurie 👀

- bree <3

I audibly let out a 'ho hoh!' when I read what the first question was. It's not a deep or weird question that you would usually go for, but it's hard for some of my ocs to answer all the same! @silvoila

1. Who makes up your family?  How close are you to them?

Aurora Puerstella

Aurora laughs, shifting in their seat as they think of their answer. Out of nervousness, embarrassment, or something else, who knows?

"Well, there's my mom, my dad. And two siblings, both younger than me," they bring up a hand to brush some hair away from their eye.

"My mom is uhhh...very mindful of social conduct, etiquette, rules and stuff. My dad likes to talk a lot, but sometimes he doesn't finish his sentences, and I have to ask him to repeat himself." That was all over the place.

"Alanna, my younger sister, is currently studying in RSA. She's very hardworking, and rigid, and edgy. You should listen to the stuff she says sometimes, it's kinda cringe," Aurora laughs.

"Alaric, my younger brother, is very hyperactive, chatty, and playful," Aurora sighed. "He's the only extrovert in the family. Can you guess who lonely he gets when everyone's busy doing their own thing?"

"How close are you to them?"

"Who asks these kinds of questions anyway?" they mumble in reply. "If you couldn't tell, I'm not very close to any of them."

Slyvan Marwood

"My grandma," Slyvan chirps proudly. "She's really friendly, always welcoming to any guests we have. She knows how to cook up a storm, sew, and tell some good dramatic stories! Unfortunately most of her stories are about me..."

"And then there's my mom. She makes the most amazing chicken soup, it's almost as good as any healing potion for when you're sick!" Slyvan giggled. "That was a joke, please don't assume chicken soup is more effective than actual medicine."

"And my dad! You really need to try his apple pie sometime. It's the best food I've ever eaten," Slyvan looked like he was drooling just thinking about it. "He's a fisherman, and would often drag me onto his boat to help him. Yes, he had to drag me. I really didn't like fishing," he chuckled sheepishly. "I found it boring, okay?"

"How close are you to them?"

"Hm? I like to think we're close," Slyvan nodded after a bit of a pause. "As far as families go, I'd say we're pretty tight-knit!"

Chandani Kumar

"I'm the middle child in my family. Dad, mom, and two siblings," she smiled. "It gets chaotic sometimes, especially when my dad gets these crazy ideas to go geyser-sliding for a family outing, but I wouldn't trade it for the world." The warm smile stretching across her face proves her genuineness.

Zhang Xue Mei

"I have a dad who makes wonderful dumplings and a mom who insisted on telling me stories every night before bed," she chuckles. "And I also had a wise old grandpa who taught me how to play chess...Had, yeah. I miss him sometimes."

"How close are you to them?"

She smiles with a tilt of her head, resting her chin on a hand. "I'm the only child, so I'd say I'm quite close to my parents. Never had to keep much from them."

Emile Briar

"I have a wonderful mother, and plenty of rumbustious siblings," Emile laughed, eyes closed. "It's a very big family, and some of us had to fight for our fair share of attention, but I can't say we didn't have our fun times~!"

"My mother has this regal air to her, is driven when she sets her mind to something, and an abundance of magic." If one didn't know any better, they would think Emile to be bragging. But sweet, charming Emile wouldn't do that, right?

"How close are you to them?"

"Very close of course! I dare say I know everyone like the back of my hand. Some of my shyer siblings don't like it when I shower them in gifts for their birthday, but I can't help it," he chuckles. "They're just too cute!"

20. Describe your biggest pet peeve.

Aurora Puerstella

"When we do experiments in science class I guess. Partly because it's so noisy and chaotic, partly because the answer is there in the book already anyway. What's the point in doing an experiment if I already know the results?" They sulk like a petulant child, blowing at a strand of their hair. "I'm not a kinesthetic learner, so most experiments are really just boring for me."

Slyvan Marwood

"I don't like it when people yell for no reason," he answers almost meekly, shuddering at the thought of a certain green-haired junior. "It scares some people, and it's annoying for the most part. If they knew how to assert themselves properly, they wouldn't even need to raise their voice so much." Rich words coming from a wallflower?

Chandani Kumar

"How do I put it..." She put a finger to her chin. "It irks me when I see someone's homework, and it's obvious that they didn't put a lot of effort into finishing it. Of course everyone has their circumstances, but certain professors put a percentage of their students' homework performance in their grade, and it's such a shame that some students aren't able to get easy full marks for that."

Zhang Xue Mei

"I hate it when people underestimate me," she shakes her head with a sigh. "When people think I can't win that chess game, or ace that test, or finish fixing that machine. Okay, maybe that last one isn't so far-fetched. But still! Have a little faith in me, geez."

Emile Briar

"Broken furniture," he decides with a nod. "I know that buying and replacing furniture must be quite the hassle, but is that really a valid excuse to drag things out when people could get hurt?" He then shakes his head with a sigh. "Some people can be so inconsiderate."

24. What would you consider your main love language?

Aurora Puerstella

"Gift giving, I guess," Aurora answers with a shrug. "I like shopping, and usually have a bunch of knick-knacks on me that I'm willing to give away to my friends."

Slyvan Marwood

"Quality time, I think," Slyvan smiled. "I love spending time with the people I care about, no matter what they're doing. It's even better when they're showing me what they like, and vice versa. I love to connect with them that way."

Zhang Xue Mei

"I don't know much about love languages," Xue Mei tilts her head with a thoughtful hum. "But I'd say my main one is...acts of service. That's what its called, right?"

The interviewer nods affirmatively, and she continues.

"I've always been a helpful one. My whole neighborhood would be inclined to agree with me," she nodded. "My parents were very busy when I was a kid, and I tried to lessen their burden whenever I could. That's just how I show my affection, I guess."

Chandani Kumar

"Physical touch!" She answers confidently with a laugh. "I'm actually very clingy, but most people don't realize it because I try to keep my displays of affection small. Like holding onto my sister's arm when we're walking down the street, or putting my head on Irene's shoulder when I'm sleepy. Nothing that showy like big hugs or anything."

Emile Briar

"My, that's a rather interesting question to ask in an interview," Emile winked at the interviewer. "And who will be reading this exactly?"

He chuckled after a bit of silence, waving his hand dismissively. "I jest, I jest. Don't worry! I'll answer the question."

He then put a gloved hand to his chin, humming with a thoughtful expression. "Hm...I'd say my main love language, both giving and receiving, is words of affirmation. What can I say? I love praise," he laughed again.