#so if I ever make a mistake please let me know ^_^

[miange1]

I WANNA TALK TO YOU✷

owners dish. . . : ceo x male reader

side dishes. . . : jealous boss, toy uses, unprofessional themes, overstimulation, sir kink, punishments, semi public sex, vouyer(?) kink, slight spanking(on the thigh), bondage, barely any plot, one sided angry sex, complicated relationships

owners note. . . : i never proofread. miangel hate needs to stop🫩. more sugar daddy fics soon

ceo, who has a very interesting relationship with you. he was very adamant about keeping everything perfect and professional, even the hairs on your chin. he was sure to be an annoyance, especially since half of it was certainly directed to you no matter what you did. he would tell you to fix your tie, your hair, your shoes, slacks, face? everything.

ceo, knew he had you frustrated but it was his habit of straightening you up and pointing out everything because he couldn't say a normal conversation. unless normal conversations were bending you over his desk, spreading your legs wide in front of the buildings large windows, or having you suck his dick in the archive room. sure, all he could truly do was annoy you.

ceo, who had made the first mistake of his entire career. he never made mistakes until this, not ever. but hiring that man— that boy who was a disgrace to breathing the air you did? he would never make a mistake like that again. the constant side touches, the leers he'd give you each time you walked past him and his eyes would gaze down. constantly finding excuses to stay close to you. how could you not notice?

ceo, who truly had no issue if you didn't notice. he would simply make you notice and the problem would be solved. his fingers quickly typed along the keyboard, papers swishing, his shoes tapping against the marble tiled floor. the lovely sound of the nights birds tweeting, the printer shuffling, and the low hum of vibrators.

ceo, had you perched up on his desk like some cheap whore. your legs were tied with rope, forced to bend and have you sit on your heels. your arms were tied behind you, two toys connected to your body. he had taped the vibrator to your leaking cock, watching it move from aching so. the other was shoved up your hole, bigger than you usually handled. you hadn't known what you did, he never punished you without a reason, you didn't understand!

ceo, who slapped your thigh a different shade when you answered wrong. oh, he wanted you to guess what you did because he believed you did it on purpose. "p–please sir, im sorry.." his hand rested on your thigh, not even turning his head towards you. "for?" you shook your head, sniffling. "for upsetting you.." "and how did you upset me?" you squirmed, a whine cracking out of your throat. "i don't know!" a harsh thwak to your thigh had shut you up. it was a message. wrong answer, try again.

ceo, let you go after you had cum god knows how many times. two..three? five? you were crying, eyes too blurry to even see much at all. "sir please.." you had to beg, beg him for him to even consider listening. "im sorry, i didn't mean to." didn't mean to what? fuck, you still didn't know. he let the toys turn off, roughly untying those forsaken ropes that dug into your soft skin. "be here early tomorrow. no excuses.

ceo, who made sure you never saw that guy again.

[narcjsistx]

please I have such a good request that I think is funny. After chapter 307, imagine Reader asks Sae if they can buy a pet bunny and he instantly tells her no, and she’s asking why not and he’s like “ No 😐🥀” but like, crack. It can be smau or fic I FEEL IT WOULD BE SO FUNNY THO

i usually don't make written fic requests, only smau ones, but this one really made me laugh. so here we are guys

✶ 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

it felt strange to have SAE ITOSHI at home for more than three days in a row — strange, but definitely pleasant. the spanish tour had just ended with great results, and that gave him the chance to finally relax a little, in the quiet of his home

it was nice to actually be able to hug him, and not just send a message he’d only read hours later in his hotel room. it was even nice just to spend time together in the same room, too

sae genuinely thought these days would be the best of the month — finally free to train only when he truly felt like it, and most of all, finally able to spend time with you after months of random flights for equally random, short-lived visits

he thought the days would pass by peacefully, with you

big mistake, sae itoshi.

"babe, can you watch the video i sent you?"

"okay. which one of the last... fortytwo?"

it wasn’t anything new to see that many videos waiting when he opened your chat. it was a habit you had since the very beginning of the relationship, and honestly, he didn’t mind it

"you’re not funny! it’s not fortytwo, c'mon..."

"fortysix."

"... just watch the last seven"

opening the chat, the number of bunnies that appears before his eyes is disgustingly disgusting. he sees all kinds: short fur, long fur, white, black, brown, long ears, short ears. his throat tightens almost automatically as he looks up — only to find you already standing in front of him with your phone in hand, with that face that, ever since you two got together, has never once been told no. he sighs bored, as you throw yourself down next to him on the couch, holding your phone right up to his face. instinctively he wraps an arm around your shoulders to pull you closer — but he’d throw that bunny on your screen as far away from him as humanly possible

"look how cute it is! it’s looking for a home, it’s up for adoption at the center near our hom—"

"absolutely not."

you turn surprised, lowering the screen slightly. you press your lips together like you’ve just received the worst news of your life, and sae already regrets having answered so coldly. it’s just that he can’t understand how such a cute animal could have the name of a jerk — the ultimate jerk, the very ultimate jerk

"... you don’t like bunnies?"

oh, he’d definitely like them more if they didn’t remind him so much of that barcha jerk — so jumpy and damn tall. sae clears his throat, moving the screen away from his face

"i don’t like bunnies"

"why? they’re so innocent, they don’t need much attention, and im home most of the time anyway"

"i don’t like them because they’re messy, they smell, they pee everywhere, and they ruin dreams that have nothing to do with them—"

"... i don’t think they do that?"

sae raises an eyebrow, then runs a hand through his hair — just to calm himself down a little. you look at him with that look, the one that’s been his downfall for years now. suddenly, your face is replaced by iglesias’s, and for a moment, sae is completely speechless. only when your actual face comes back into view he let out a sigh of relief, a very long one

"i just don’t think it’s the right pet for us, considering my job and the fact that you want to start university. don’t you think maybe... i don’t know, a dog would be a better choice?"

"but i want a bunny"

"yeah, and i’d like to be a striker, but things don’t always go the way we want"

"i don’t see how that has anything to do with what i said..."

"im just telling you to listen to me, trust me. bunnies are evil"

you give him a bit of a look, then slump against his shoulder with a pout. sae starts running his fingers through your hair, fully aware that maybe — just maybe — he’s won this battle, a battle harder than the one against barcha a few months ago

"i already had a list of names ready"

sae sighs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. the gesture doesn’t quite erase your pout, but your eyebrows are furrowed just a little less. hearing the list can’t possibly cause another mental breakdown… right?

"alright, let’s hear it. what were you thinking?"

"OKAY SO… since we’re in spain, i thought of a spanish name. everyone gives their pets human names, but i want to stand out… with building names. i was thinking of… catedral, colegio, cine, estadio... maybe even tienda, iglesia—"

oh, no bunny will ever cross the threshold of this house as long as sae is alive. neither human nor animal

[nanamisbbygirl]

—☆ friends with benefits!

chapter 6. what are we?

paring: geto suguru x reader

genre: college au, drama, smut with plot

summary: a pact of pleasure between friends runs the risk of ruining everything. passionate flames burn the hardest. you and geto care about each other, but what happens when sex gets tangled with friendship?

cw: mentions of getting drunk, angst, toxic-ish dynamics

prev. < masterlist > next

Two weeks later 

Midterms had finally passed, although you barely survived them, especially with all that had happened. You were under so much pressure, with studying mixed and dealing with the rift between your friends– it seemed as though you were trapped in a state of limbo. 

Only pieces of that night survived in your memory from that night when Gojo and Geto got into their fight. The details were hazy in your mind: it was a blur of bruises and hateful curses. You had gone home in a cab, head spinning thinking about the situation you found yourself in. All you knew for sure was that after that night things had gone from bad to awful. No one was speaking to each other– with the expectation of Shoko– and none of you wanted to be the first one to try to bridge the gap. In all honesty, you didn’t think that the silence would go on for as long as it did. 

“Alright,” Shoko huffed, pushing her chair away from her desk. She had her phone in hand as she turned to look at you as you closed the book you were reading. “Do you know what the fuck is going on between Satoru and Suguru?” 

Her expression narrowed as you felt yourself becoming tense. You didn’t know what the right thing to say was. Come clean? Lie? You could’ve sworn you felt a bead of sweat roll down your forehead, nervous with her body language. 

“What do you mean?” You tried playing dumb, but Shoko only rolled her eyes. 

“I can tell when you’re lying, y’know?” She paused, “ever since reading week something’s up. I know you know something.” 

Pressing your lips together, a rush of memories rolled back into your mind, making you cringe. Shoko had the right to know– any attempts at keeping the drama under wraps was clearly a lost cause. 

“They got into a fight.” You said plainly. 

“Like, a physical one? Or like a cat fight?” She questioned. 

“Um,” they’re fighting over me, actually. I Yoko Onoed our friend group, is what you thought about saying. “A little bit of both.” 

“Good grief,” she groaned, “I swear to god boys are so dramatic. Who let them think they’re the emotionally stable ones.” 

For a moment, she looked at her phone before asking another, very crucial question: “what the hell was their fight even about? What was worth it to throw their whole friendship aside?” 

You were silent again. Gulping, you tried to awkwardly smile. Little did she know. It was ironic. You could picture her reaction if you told her. The ghastly expression on her face, the way her eyes would widen in fear and disbelief. Or would she laugh about it? Think you’re joking at first? It was hard to tell sometimes. 

“Sho..” Your voice trailed off, “don’t hate me for what I’m about to say…” 

“Oh god,” she huffed. “Don’t tell me you– oh my god! Which one of them did you sleep with?” 

Wincing at her harsh words, you realized it was now or never. 

“Su.” You finally admit. Shoko let out a loud, obnoxious groan in which you couldn’t tell if her tone was serious or not. 

She pinched the bridge of her nose, “please tell me it only happened once. That it was a drunken mistake. Please for the love of god, tell me you used protection.” 

“Duh, of course we did.” You briefly ignore her first question. “But it wasn’t just a one time thing...We've been doing the whole friends with benefits shtick. And well, we’re not anymore. I think Satoru had a crush on me too– I don’t know. They were arguing in front of me, hitting each other. I didn’t know what to do, what to say to them.” 

“But you don’t like Satoru back. Do you?” You felt your lip trembling. There was a crucial piece of information even you were too ashamed to admit to your best friend. 

“No, I don’t. I…” You couldn’t finish your sentence. You thought of Suguru– of all those nights you spent together, and of the night where he tried to mend the gap that had been created between you. You blamed the alcohol for your lack of recollection, remembering only a fraction of what had really happened. The night was filled with gaps, making you unsure about everything that really happened, even the parts of that evening that you didn’t want to accept. 

When you hopped into the cab, your body was on autopilot, as if you were chasing a ghost. Your chapped lips parted, speaking an address you would have never thought of going to. Suguru’s house. Your heart raced as the car swerved through the streets, pulling up to the home where it all seemed to have started. 

You didn’t even know if he’d be home yet. You had seen him storm off, but you didn’t know where he was going– too cowardly to chase after him in the moment. You felt stupid for even being there, after the way he yelled at you, showing his vicious teeth once again. Yet, there was still that way he looked over at you when Satoru punched him square in the jaw. There was something there, something you could explain to yourself. Something that made your heart crawl up your throat. 

Maybe that was why you stood at his door, cringing as your finger lingered over the doorbell. Maybe that’s why when he answered the door, an ice pack pressed to his face, his tired eyes gazed into yours the same way they did at the bar. 

“You’re here.” He had said in disbelief. You nodded, slipping past the threshold. 

“I figured we weren’t done talking.” His eyes widen, leading you to the kitchen, where he swapped out the ice pack for a different, colder one. Without speaking, you took it from his grasp, placing it where he’d be hit. “This is all my fault.” 

“No,” he breathed out. “It’s mine. I shouldn’t have come.” 

“Your lip’s cracked, y’know? It’s bleeding bad.” The sight distracted you from what he said. 

“Shit, it musta opened up again.” You heard him say as you searched for some kind of napkin to press down on it. When you snapped your head back to look at him, it hadn’t dawned on you just how close you were standing. 

Holding it against his lip, you couldn’t stand the uncomfortable quietness. It was blatantly obvious that you both needed to confess something, yet neither one of you wanted to break the silence. 

“Does it hurt?” You asked, albeit the question seemed a bit redundant. Of course there would be some discomfort from his injuries, but you didn’t know what else to ask. 

Even if it was a stupid question, it elicited a soft chuckle from him, lightening the mood ever so slightly. 

“Nothing some alcohol can’t fix.” He removed himself from your touch, looking under the sink for a bottle. He pulled out one that was half full, twisting off the cap, taking a quick swing of it. You wondered at the time if he was doing that to numb the pain, or to build up some confidence. 

“Want some?” He questioned, holding the bottle out in front of him. Without thinking, you accepted it from him, titling your head back, taking what was probably a shot's worth. 

There was another round of silence, and it was as if the world was about to collapse. You thought back to the past couple of months and compared it to the situation you found yourself in at the moment. Geto drank more. You stood, leaning against the counter observing him. 

“You were right.” He said, looking down at his feet. “I was a dickhead.” 

You would’ve never thought you would hear him say those words, to admit defeat. It was an apology, in some ways, but you weren’t sure if you could accept it. You took the bottle back, drinking again, hoping it would ease your mind and allow your tongue to speak more freely. 

“I know.” You stopped, “you really hurt me.” 

“I know.” He repeated. You didn’t realize how small both your voices sounded in the emptiness of his kitchen. Geto stole the bottle back, continuing the game of cat-and-mouse that you seemed to be playing. His lips touched the rim, swirling more alcohol in his mouth. “I didn’t mean it.” 

“Then why did you act that way?” 

“It’s not that easy to explain.” 

“Try.” 

“I can’t.” 

“Am I really that hard to talk to?” Your tone was half-teasing. For a split second you were still friends, with witty little banter, smiling at one another. But, you quickly remembered where you were, and who was standing in front of you. 

“I shouldn’t have slept with you.” Geto explains after taking another drink. You feel your heart stinging, reaching again for the bottle to drink. Now you were the one who needed to suppress pain. You were trying to think of how to reply, but it was clear the black haired boy wasn’t done speaking. “Not that I didn’t enjoy it– fuck, it’s the opposite– I just- I just want to be with you like how it was before.” 

You gulped, meeting his eyes for a brief second. “Why can’t we have both?” 

“I’m not good for you. I’ve already hurt you so bad. When people get close to me things never end well. Shit, even me ‘n Satoru.” His breath was shaky, “I would rather just be your friend than risk losing you completely. I need you in my life, but it’s not what I deserve.” 

Even though you could see his lips moving, it was as if the sound had been muted. You couldn’t hear what he was saying, all you could think about was him. His heart. His body. All of it flashing through your mind, like some fantasy montage. The only sound that was ringing in your ear was the beating of your heart. So maybe it was the alcohol that was blurring your judgement, or maybe it was the close proximity that you were standing in, but the last thing you remember from that night was when you pressed your lips against his. 

The next thing you knew, you woke up in his bed, wearing one of his t-shirts, your jeans folded on his chair. Suguru was sleeping next to you. Shirtless. You were pressed against his side, one arm flung over his chest, grazing over his muscles. His hair loosely draped over the pillow, eyes lightly closed. He looked peaceful at first, until you noticed the bruising on his body. You wondered if the one that sat on his neck was from the fight, or if it was something that you had caused. 

Your eyes widened, unsure about what had happened. It made your stomach swirl. Your head ached. Did you sleep with him again? What did he tell you last night to get you so vulnerable? Had you forgiven him so quickly? Did he even apologize? 

Just like that, you disappeared just as sneakily as you had entered, putting on your clothes without bothering to wake him. You hadn’t spoken to one another since then. You were too scared to confront him again, to ask the tell tale question of: what are we? 

“Do you love him?” Shoko’s voice snapped you back into reality. “Suguru, I mean.” 

You stared into her eyes, she was so clueless on everything that had happened, how were you supposed to explain how your heart felt? Was it love? Could it even be love? You couldn’t even remember what he said to you that night. 

“I’m not sure.” You start, bringing your knees into your chest, eyes getting glassy. “I want to love him, but I don’t know if I can– if I can fall for someone who doesn’t like me back.” 

Shoko’s gaze softened, plopping herself down next to you, placing a hand gently on your back, trying to console you. She wasn’t always the best at comforting, but she tried her best. 

“How do you know he doesn’t like you? I mean, you’ve been friends for so long and you clearly have sexual chemistry. That’s all a relationship is. You have the foundation for it. Maybe you should talk to him again. Or maybe I can talk to him for you?” She offered. 

You closed your eyes, letting out a little sigh. “Have you met Suguru? He doesn’t really wear his heart on his sleeve. Last time we talked… Well let’s just say some words were exchanged.” 

“It couldn’t have been that bad.” Shoko insists, “c’mon it’s almost halloweekend, I need my friends back.” 

She pouts slightly, poking your arm, “plus, I don’t want to see you sad, especially over Suguru. He’s a sap deep down, he’s just emotionally repressed. I promise, though, it won’t be as bad as you think.” 

You take in a deep breath, “I haven’t spoken to him in two weeks. What if he hates me?” 

“I doubt it.” Shoko explained, “I was talking to him last week and he was asking about you. In hindsight, I should’ve realized that was odd. But please, he doesn’t hate you. I think he’s just as nervous as you are.” 

With a shaky hand, you reach to wipe away a tear that left your eye. You were in between two difficult decisions. On one hand, you were mad at him. Angry at him for playing your heartstrings as if it were an out of tune guitar. But at the same time, you didn’t want to hate him forever. You wanted things to go back to how things were. 

“He told me he regretted sleeping with me, though. He said he wanted to go back to being just friends.” 

“Jeez, why didn’t you start with that,” Shoko says, half jokingly, judging you softly, “I’m over here spewing shit advice then.” 

She goes quiet for a second, remembering the seriousness of the situation. Her teeth graze her bottom lip as she’s stuck in her own thoughts, trying to conjure up some kind of guidance. 

“I think he’s scared.” She states. “Scared to let anyone in. Think about it, all the girls he’s hooked up with, it’s like he’s trying to fill some kinda void, y’know. He wants to be close, but it’s like there’s a barrier.” 

“Yeah,” you nod, thinking back to what he told you then. If that was true, if that was how Suguru felt, you weren’t sure what the right choice was. Let him in at the chance of getting hurt, or keep him out for good. 

“You just have to break the barrier.” She perks up at the idea. 

“Easier said than done, though.” You sigh, “besides, it’s going to take more than me and Su making up to fix our group. There’s Satoru too.” 

“Don’t worry about Satoru,” Shoko waved her hand. “I’ll deal with him. Just focus on your relationship. Trust me. I think if you actually talk to him everything will sort itself out.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I'm certain. You trust me, dontcha?” She grins and you nod again. “Good! It’s happening tonight then! Go talk to him right now.” 

“What? No! I can’t! Look at how I’m dressed– nonono” you whined as Shoko pulled you off the bed, forcing a sweater over you. 

“Yes you are! I won’t let you stay here until you’ve made up.” She smirks, “and don’t worry about what you’re wearing, he’s seen you naked hasn’t he? EW I’m gonna vomit just thinking about it!” 

Shoko’s laugh is infectious, and has its effect on you as she pushes you out of your shared dorm room. Before she shut the door she yelled something about protection, making you flustered, thinking about how everyone on your floor probably heard it. 

Although, at the slamming sound, you were forced to face the fact that you were walking towards his dorm. Going down the stairs, walking along campus to his building. It seemed more daunting now, the building looking down at you ferociously. Each window was like a different eye, staring down at you like you were a tiny inconvenience. Gulping, you knew Shoko wouldn’t let you back in unless you talked to him. 

So there you were, knocking at his door, just like you had done two weeks ago, just like you had done anytime you were wanting to hook up. Obviously this was not the same as all those other times. There was something terrifying about doing it now, something too vulnerable. 

When the door swung open, you were met with his chest first, as he wore his typical, loose, black sweater. You let your view trail up to get a good look at his face, taking in the way he wore his hair up, his eyes wide at the fact you were standing in front of him. It was almost as if he’d seen a poltergeist. 

Your heart was racing a million miles per hour. You were ready to open your mouth to speak, when something else caught your attention. Or someone else. 

In an instant, your heart went from overheating to stopping completely. You were sick to your stomach seeing another girl sitting on his bed, laying on her back, wearing nothing but some skimpy tank top and short shorts. Clearly you were interrupting something. 

“Who’s at the door, Su?” She asked, making your blood boil. 

Geto didn’t have a chance to respond, being met by a cold slap. 

Your palm stung. You slapped him. It was hard to believe that you had done it. He looked back at you, slightly shocked, rubbing against the red spot you left. You knew you hadn’t really hurt him, at least not physically. 

Tears whelmed in your eyes, muttering under your breath: “God I’m so stupid.” 

You turned to run away, walking as quickly as you could without stumbling over. You heard him shuffling behind you, like he was trying to catch up with you. 

“Please, please wait!” His voice was shaky too, lined with regret. “Please it’s-it’s not what it looks like.” 

You didn’t get him the chance to explain himself, too busy with running back to your room. 

What hurt most was that in that moment, you finally realized how much you loved him. That the thought of him with someone else was enough to send you spiralling. The worst part about it, though, was that he didn’t seem to feel the same way about you in return. 

taglist: @bunnygorex @iwas-baby @coffee-and-geto @i2s2m @zeunys @murasakiyams @sukunasbigtiddiewifey @izluvsyou @goonforgeto @multistan-247 @chosoclub @idyllicsam @0tsukie @suckkuna @loverzxi @lilbxtchsyndrome @blombat @ll0rona @astrokenny @izluvsyou @saint-boudica @cutehobii @shadyd3ar @getofanclub @suguruswifett @rryujn @kenmacantakemeaway @keiva1000 @reader2004 @hearts-for-asa @siennadoodles @se-phi-roth @cherryredkissez @whimsicalwriting @chewiebee @sugurunugget @bunbun444 [closed]

© all work belongs to nanamisbbygirl on tumblr, please do not plagiarize, repost or translate anywhere

[littlecandyman]

cw: toxic suguru, pregnancy, complacent reader, angst, hurt/no comfort, reader defected with suguru, maybe multi pov? just a little bit in the middle there

"Why did you block me?"

"I'm sorry?"

"My phone number. Why is it blocked?"

"It's not?"

"It is. My calls aren't going through anymore."

You stare at Satoru dumbfounded for a second before pulling out your phone to show him he's not blocked but when you open your blocked list his name is right there at the top.

"I didn't–" You fumble with the touch screen about to unblock his number until realization hits. You didn't, no. You freeze and then slowly, "I don't think I'm supposed to talk to you anymore," you state, averting your gaze to the pebbled walkway of the temple's garden.

There's only one person who could have or even would have access to your phone and if you didn't block him, then he would have had to.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asks, hand waving in front of your face to get your attention back. You stay silent, still looking away from him. "Hey, what the fuck?" Concern etches his features, a hand coming up to your face in an attempt to force you to make eye contact with him. "Can you please explai–"

"Satoru, how nice of you to come visit." Suguru places a possesive hand on the small of your back, pulling you ever so slightly into his side. The other hand grabs Satoru's wrist, moving his hand away from your face. "Please don't touch my wife," he says with a faux smile to Satoru.

"Wha– what is going on?" He stammers, panic ripping through his chest.

Satoru has never been treated like this by either of you, blocking his number, the silent treatment, not allowed to touch you? A month ago he would have been greeted with a hug, a kiss to the cheek and a meal.

It's been that way for 10 years, why the sudden change?

"Did I do something?" Insecurity sweeps over him.

"No, Satoru," Suguru answers. "We're just... moving on without you."

You risk a glance up at Satoru and find hurt, confusion. You look away again, unable to face him. You don't hold the answers he's looking for.

"It'll be better for all of us this way," Suguru reassures. "With the baby on the–"

"Baby?" Satoru interrupts. That's when he really looks at you, at the small bump starting to form.

"She didn't tell you," Suguru comments, tightening his arm around your waist. "That's a shame."

"Sugu–" You start, head snapping up to meet his eyes.

"Lunch is almost ready, why don't you go meet the girls and I'll come join you?" He turns that sickly sweet smile on you. "I'll show Satoru out."

You nod once and turn on your heel. You look over your shoulder at Satoru one more time, just in case it's the last time. You want to tell him you're sorry, reassure him, anything, but you can only move forward and away from him.

That night, you stare at yourself in the vanity mirror in your bedroom as you get ready for bed, replaying everything in your head. You jump when Suguru enters the room, lost in your own thoughts.

"Suguru?" You call, running a brush slowly through your hair, never breaking eye contact with yourself.

"Yes, my love?" He stands behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders.

"Why?" You don't need to clarify. He knows exactly what you're asking: Why are we saying goodbye to Satoru? Why like this?

He's silent for a minute and then, "I don't want my child confused about what's right and what's wrong," he says, kissing the top of your head.

You start to wonder if you made a mistake in what's right and what's wrong.

a/n: been seeing a lot of angst lately. real unhappy about all that. let me contribute to the problem :)

considering a part 2 let me know if yall are interested

[ruinix]

Hi!

Could you maybe if you get the chance do an imagine with a insecure overweight girl that meets Quinn? (Unrealistic I know but a girl can dream 🥲)

Thank you!

- Bella 🫶🏼

Hello, lovely Bella. That's going to be your emoji now, my Lovely (until you tell me if you want a new one. Please tell me). I tried my best! Just a short blurb (one of the few that survived my draft purge 🙂‍↕️). Hope you like it!

Butterflies

18+. Thoughts. Hurt/comfort-ish(??). Fluff. Low-self esteem/Insecurities. Quinn being sweet.

Quinn liked you. No, that was not right. What he felt was more than like. More than love. He knew that the moment he had taken you for your first date, a simple walk and a picnic, a couple of months ago.

He was so nervous that time. His hand was deathgripping the basket he purchased just for the occassion. He made sandwiches of variety because he didn't know what you preferred yet. He got hot and cold drinks in insulated bottles. He had a soft and thick blanket and even pins to anchor it down. He tried to be so thoroughly prepared. He even dressed up with a slightly fancier buttonup shirt and pants. He was vibrating in anticipation and nerves, until you arrived.

He could still feel the way his heart pounded, even months later. You were so beautiful. You wore a pretty and floral dress that flowed with the wind. You got butterflies on your hairclips. A ribbon in the middle of your neckline lured him to stare at your cleavage. His cock stirred, but he looked away, trying to burn the vision of you away. He knew he needed to be on guard. It was your first date. He didn't want you to feel uncomfortable with him.

Alas, despite all his preparations and his inner practice, the first date was awkward, far from perfect. You both were stuttering messes, too mindful of your words and actions. The wind was blowing so hard that his sandwich splattered on his shirt, that your glass of iced tea spilled on you. That horrified Quinn. He was in panic, apologizing again and again. He offered you napkins, even his own shirt to dry your skirt.

He was so focused on apologizing and helping you and fixing your picnics into his basket, that he never saw that you were blushing in embarrassment, never realized that you were nearly in tears when your skirt clung to your thighs, that you had been adjusting your dress since the beginning because you felt insecure and unhappy with the dress that you weren't use to. He didn't see nor understand yet.

Only after your fourth date did Quinn realized how you were hiding yourself. He picked up on your discomfort with your clothes by the frequency of your shirt tugging or how you lift your arm over your tummy for pictures. He always complimented how pretty you were and that helped a bit. You would smile so beautifully at him. But then, you would tell self-depreciating jokes about yourself. He hated those jokes. Not once did he ever laugh. He was shaking them off every time, his eyebrows furrowing, his eyes staring at you, until you looked away, changing the topic. He let you. Of course, he did, he had no idea what to do. That was his mistake. He shouldn't have let it slide. He should've shut it down.

So he did. He called you for a talk the same day. His heart ached in the worst way on his way back to your place.

"I don't like the jokes you make on yourself," he blurted, his hand turning into a fist by his side. "Please stop."

"But they're real, isn't it? I—"

"I like you the way you are," he tried.

"The way I am is not good enough for someone dating you, Quinn. Look at how hot you are. And I'm just..." You sighed, tugging on your skirt. "I'm fat."

Quinn still remembered how you said it like it was an insult, like it was a fucking reason not to love you, like it was a valid reason for all those jokes. He wasn't good with words. He didn't know how to correct your tone or if he had any right.

So instead, after a deep breath, he started, "You are more than that. You don't see you in my eyes, my Love." It was his first time calling you that and it never felt more right. When you stepped back, he grabbed your hand, holding it firmly. "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. You glow when you smile and laugh. You make me feel happy whenever I see you, seen whenever I felt nothing more than a person who plays hockey, heard whenever no one would listen."

He remembered taking a long inhale, his hand hovering over your cheek. His body started to burn, his ears reddening at the tip, his cheeks flushing. "Beyond that, I want you. I love your curves. I want to touch you every time I see you. Your softness makes me fucking hard. My Love. Whenever you hug me, I always need to adjust my pants, hoping to fuck you won't notice, because I am trying to impress you. I need you. I love you. I love you for you."

He might have gotten overboard with his confession, but it was all true. While it eased you, Quinn knew that you would need reassurance and he would love to give it, because you need to understand that you were you.

The perfect and sweet girl he met and loved.

He was honored to meet you, to spend time with you, to be officially together. Every night he would think of you to sleep. When you finally let him in your place, he felt so ecstatic to see your place and to finally make love with you. He never felt so full. His chest was brimming with everything he felt for you and that resulted him to bawl his eyes out as he cuddled you after the wonderful sex.

So, when you finally came down your stairs, wearing the same dress and the same hairclips that you wore on your first date—the dress with flowers, the clips with butterflies—his knees wobbled with his eyes burning with unshed tears.

See? You were beautiful. Extremely. Magnificently. Divinely.

You stopped in front of him, your handa cupping his cheeks, greeting him with a light peck on his lips, before you rested your forehead against his. "Hi, Quinny."

Your soft greeting had him crying, not with sadness, but with happiness and love and all the best things you bring out of his soul.

Double blurb night?! One dark, one hurt/comfortish-fluff?! (Jk both of these were 80% done lmao)

Good night!!! 🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️

Lovelies @dancerbailey3 @loser-pretty-girl @tiredallthetimex @quinnintheabyss @r0wdymaize86 @hughesmybaby @hockeygirlyyyy @bpinkblink @siennaluvshcky @arty-anon @hodgepodge-musings @alexxavicry @alwaysclassyeagle @svexhenthusiast

-> more thoughts? List. Want to be notified? Join my taglist!

[fru1t4fr0gs]

Bedtime

Pairing: Dad!Bucky Barnes x Mom!Reader

Summary: Bedtime negotiations go as expected, but the result is certainly not a loss. How could it be, when you have the cutest family in the world?

Warnings: None! This is just pure, tooth-rotting fluff. Let me know if I should put anything, though!

Author’s Note: Just a little drabble with Bucky being happy and adorable as a dad. For context, the twins names are Steve and TJ (Tony Junior). Enjoy! And as always, please let me know what you think!

-

“Okay, gentlemen,” your voice is firm. Steady. Your weapon is raised before you as you assess your opponents. Their expressions mimic your own. “Let’s just put our weapons down, and discuss this like rational people.”

It’s the enemy on your left, with his large blue eyes still narrowed in defiance, that caves first. He drops his weapon, and you nod in solemn acknowledgement, quickly focusing your attention to the one on your right.

“TJ,” You say, voice dripping with as much danger as you can muster. “Put. The banana. Down.”

He does not. He holds the piece of fruit towards you with a seriousness that makes you have to bite back the laughter you’ve been holding in since this exchange began. At only three years old, he’s already managed to mimic his father’s glare perfectly, though it’s not quite as intimidating on such a small and angelic face.

“Not sleepy.” His voice, innocent and high and so incredibly stubborn, forces you to bite back a smile.

Steve, ever the loyal twin, decides to add to the sentiment with his own input.

“Not sleepy. At all.” It takes every ounce of determination in your body to keep from caving.

Instead, you look at them both, narrowing your eyes.

“Okay, is that how you want to play this?” You ask, lowering your own banana to the floor like it’s a loaded weapon. You even kick it towards them, arms raised in surrender.

“Yeah!” They both yell at once, defiant.

“Fine, fine. I yield. You win.” You say, before dropping your voice into a low and dramatic tone that makes both boys glare at you suspiciously.

“But, you forgot one thing.” You raise your eyebrows. They squint, both trying to figure out exactly what you might mean.

“Always check your six.”

And then Bucky, who had been sneaking up behind them through the entire confrontation, finally swings both toddlers onto each of his broad shoulders in one swift move. They immediately dissolve into shrieks of laughter, tiny hands scrabbling at his arms as he growls like a cartoon villain and spins in a little circle.

“Bedtime!” He bellows dramatically, and your heart swells in your chest at the sight. The former Winter Soldier, the deadly assassin with a soaring kill count, is now bouncing two gleeful children around with a smile on his face that burns brighter than the sun.

You grin, reaching down to pick up the fallen bananas and dropping the western schtick as Bucky continues to spin the giggling boys around the living room. “Okay, fellas. Mommy and Daddy have spoken. It’s officially time for bed.”

Unfortunately, you haven’t realised your mistake until it’s too late.

“Mommy!” The boys yell, and you turn to see them both pointing at you over their father’s shoulder. Their little voices shriek excitedly in perfect, excited unison. “Get Mommy! Get Mommy!”

Your eyes lock on your husband’s, and the sparkle of mischief in his gaze makes you step back like you’re preparing to bolt towards the door.

“Bucky, no.”

The chant continues. Bucky sets them down gently, his grin downright evil as he stalks toward you with predatory intent.

“Bucky, don’t you dare.”

You’re quick, but Bucky is quicker. You don’t make it two steps before you’re airborne, tossed over your husband’s shoulder like you weigh nothing as the boys shriek with glee. He dips down into a crouch to scoop them up, too, letting them dangle from his vibranium arm, and then he’s carrying all three of you into your room.

The boys drop onto the bed, still giggling, and Bucky drops you down between them.

They waste no time before they scrabble on top of you, their sweet laughter pulling giggles from your own throat even as Bucky joins the chaos. He crawls onto the bed, wrapping Steve in his arms and dragging him off of you as his brother continues his play-fighting, tiny hands trying to pinch at your ears in the way he knows will make you laugh. You can see Bucky lifting his brother in the air out of the corner of your eye, making an exaggerated grunting noise like the little boy might be too strong and heavy for even his super strength to handle.

“You two need to go to bed.” You say, still laughing as you catch your son’s tiny hands in your own, doing your best to hold him still.

“They are in bed.” Bucky says beside you, and you look over to see that Steve is now sitting on his chest, fiddling with his vibranium fingers and clearly fighting back a yawn.

“Their beds. In their room.” You argue, but you already know where this is going. Where it’s going to lead. That you’re happily going to agree to it.

“Boys,” Bucky says, adopting the commanding tone of a Sargeant, and you groan helplessly. “It’s time to pull out the secret weapon. It’s time for the Big Eyes.”

And then, before you can duck for cover, you’re assaulted by three of the cutest, most pleading expressions in the entire world.

“Fine”. You try to sound exasperated, you really do. Alas, it doesn’t work. You look at Bucky, who looks so triumphant you almost laugh again. “But when they snore and kick you off the bed, don’t complain to me.”

He reaches up, tangles his fingers in yours, and pulls you closer to him. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He says, managing to press a gentle kiss to your forehead before the boys celebrate their victory by climbing on top of him and wiggling their way in between you.

Bucky’s hand remains in your own. TJ ends up on top of him, snoring with his face pressed into his father’s chest and a large vibranium arm wrapped protectively around his small body. Steve ends up with his arms and legs wrapped around you like a tiny octopus, fingers curled into your pajama top and his quiet snores sounding right in your ear.

You look over at Bucky as you begin to drift off, and you see peace. Pure, lovely peace. It’s something he never thought he would have. Something he yearned for through years and years of torture and pain. He’s so unbelievably beautiful like this that you almost feel tears prickling behind your eyes.

You fall asleep with so much love in your heart that it feels as though it might burst.

-

Author's Note/Tagging: Thanks to @astridphantom for giving me the idea for the twins names! I hope you like this!

[sunflowerry-vol6]

IF YOU WERE MINE || CEO Harry x Reader

characters count: 9798

summary: your husband opens your marriage, while his best friend Harry is determined to steal you

masterlist || part 3:

Harry’s POV

Lobby - 1:30 PM

The air in the marble-floored lobby shifts the moment I step out of the elevator. I see Tom instantly, standing near the glass entrance like he owns the place. Shirt slightly wrinkled, jaw tense, ego bruised.

“If you don’t plan to attend any board meetings, just sell your stocks.” Tom’s head snaps immediately at the sound of my voice—that cocky grin. He still thinks nothing has changed and we’re on the same terms, but there’s something desperate behind that smirk. Perhaps he realized the mistake he made? Or was the night with that girl not so pleasant after all?

I walk toward him calmly. Controlled. Dangerous.

“Harry,” he smiles. “Didn’t expect to see you coming down.”

“I don’t mind being a good boyfriend and taking Y/N’s trash out.” I watch his smile falter. He didn’t expect that. Didn’t expect someone to steal you. Didn’t expect that someone to be his best friend. Didn’t expect that I’d talk down to him. But things will be different from now on. From now on, I won’t let anyone hurt you, Y/N.

He adjusts his cufflink — a nervous tic. “Where is she?”

“Upstairs. Where she belongs. In a real office. Getting real respect.”

“Don’t act like this is some fairytale. She’s my wife.”

I step closer to him. “She was your wife. And you treated her like an accessory you could upgrade when the next version dropped.”

Tom scoffs, jaw tightening. “You think you’re better for her?”

“I know I am. And deep down, so do you. That’s why you’re here, not for her. For your pride.”

Tom’s eyes narrow as I lower my voice, just enough so no one else hears. “She gave you every ounce of grace she had. She defended you. Built your company back up with her bare hands while you were too drunk to string a deal together. And you repaid her by humiliating her in front of our entire network.”

He opens his mouth, but I quickly cut him off. I won’t tolerate his bullshit any longer. “She’s not a possession, Tom. She’s not your PR boost. She’s not a pretty toy on your arm, so you can appear like a proper family man at events. And if you ever refer to her like that again, I swear to God, I’ll bury your name so deep in legal fire you’ll need a shovel and ten lawyers just to breathe.”

“She won’t leave me for you.” His voice falters. Does he even believe this himself?

I scoff softly. “She already did. You just weren’t there to notice.”

That hits him. He sways slightly, like I just took the ground out from under his shoes.

I straighten my jacket, calm and collected. “Now, if you’re here to make a scene, I suggest you save yourself the embarrassment. This building has more cameras than investors, and I don’t need another scandal with your name on it.”

I glance at the receptionist. “Ella, please escort Mr. Harrington out. He no longer has access to this building. And please make sure he doesn’t bother Mrs. Harrington anymore.”

Tom takes a breath, but I can see the fury in his eyes. He wants to explode, but he knows he can’t. He needs to preserve what little dignity he has left. He just lost the one thing that belonged to him that I didn’t have, and I know he won’t give up without a fight—but I also know that I won’t either. And when he comes, I’ll be ready.

As security gently approaches him, I turn back toward the elevator. I pause for one last word without even turning to look at him. “Oh — and Tom? Next time you open a marriage, make sure the better man isn’t waiting just around the corner.”

Elevator doors close. I’m smiling now — not because I humiliated him.

But because I finally defended you.

And you’re upstairs, waiting.

My Office - 8:30 PM

“What is it, Bunny?” I ask softly as your head lands on my shoulder, your eyebrows furrowed, nose scrunched.

“All smells the same now.” You push away sample bottles of our new perfume line.

I chuckle softly, closing my laptop and wrapping my arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer. “What are you saying? That we need to have a very nourishing dinner and go to mine? I think I agree with you.”

“You think I’m just tired?” You sink deeper into my chest, cheek pressed just below my collarbone.

“I think you’re brilliant. And exhausted. And probably running on one latte and half an omelet.” I pause. “And I think… you’ve been holding it together for too long.”

There’s a beat of silence. The kind where everything unsaid lingers in the room, thick and alive.

You lift your head just enough to look at me. Your eyes are tired but soft, searching. “Do you really mean it?”

My eyes meet your gaze. “Every word. I meant it yesterday. I meant it in the lobby. I meant it when I told Tom you deserve more than being treated like a liability in a dress.” I take your hand, threading my fingers through yours. “I’m not here to borrow you from a broken marriage, Y/N. I’m here to build something better. And not just for you. For both of us.”

You stare at me, and I can see your guard start to tremble. “I’m scared.”

“Good. That means it matters.”

You swallow hard, and I raise your hand to my lips, kissing your knuckles. “Come home with me tonight. No pressure. No expectations. Just… rest. A bed that’s yours. A room where you’re safe. We’ll cook something together. Or order everything on the menu. I’ll run you a bath. You can wear that huge hoodie I know you keep stealing from my wardrobe.”

“Okay.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

“Okay?”

You nod. And for a moment, you smile — truly smile. The first one I’ve seen all day.

I rise from my chair, still holding your hand, and gently tug you up with me. I wrap your coat over your shoulders, grabbing my keys and your bag.

“Let’s go. Tomorrow, we’ll work on a scent that smells like you: confidence and cinnamon and a little danger.” I smile, grabbing your hand softly in mine and leading you out of my office.

You laugh. “Danger?”

“You just ruined your husband’s life and walked away in heels. That’s lethal.” I lead you inside the elevator and your cheek presses on my chest again.

“Do they really all smell different?” You look up at me.

I chuckle. “They do, baby. One of the smells was floral, another one was woody, the third one was citrus.” I gently stroke your cheek. “Don’t overthink it, love. You’re just tired.”

You take a theatrical, dramatic gasp, putting one hand on your chest. “What if I lost my ability to smell?”

Which makes me let out an amused laugh. I missed this silly side of you, just how you were when we first met. Lately, it felt like you lost it, and God, it felt so nice to see it again.

“Then, I guess I will have to smell everything for you.” I kiss the top of your head, wrapping my arm around you as we walk out of the office building.

My House - 9:12 PM

The door clicks shut behind us, locking out the world and everything it tried to take from you. From us. You toe off your heels by the entryway, hang your coat, and I set your bag down gently by the console table, watching the way your body already begins to relax just from being here. Away from the noise. Away from him.

“I forgot how quiet it is here,” you whisper, stepping further inside. The lights are low, warm. The skyline glows through the floor-to-ceiling windows like the city knows it should dim itself for you tonight.

I slip off my blazer and roll my sleeves up as I walk into the kitchen, glancing at you over my shoulder. “I can make you pasta. Or do you want something you don’t have to chew?”

You giggle lightly, rubbing your temples. “I want something Asian.”

“Sushi it is then.” I smile, grabbing my phone and opening the delivery app, scrolling to my favorite sushi restaurant.

You nod, dragging your fingers through your hair as you perch on one of the stools by the kitchen island. “You know, I was always jealous of your garden.”

I chuckle. “And I always thought you would look majestic in it.” You don’t answer, just nod and keep gazing at my garden through the windows.

“I meant what I said back there, in the elevator, you know,” I say, putting my phone on the counter as I place the order. “I’m not going to let him near you again.”

You’re quiet for a moment.

“I know,” you finally say. “That’s the thing. I know.”

I glance at you, sitting there still slightly dazed, still beautiful. You’ve never looked more human.

“Harry?” Your voice is soft, unsure.

I step toward you. “What is it, Bunny?”

You reach out for me like it’s instinct. Like it’s the only thing that makes sense anymore. I move into your space without hesitation, placing my hands on either side of your waist, thumb brushing just above the edge of your blouse.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you whisper, looking up at me with something between grief and relief. “I just know I don’t want to go back. Not to him. Not to who I was when I was with him.”

I press my forehead to yours. “Good. Because she’s gone. And the woman standing in front of me right now? She’s worth more than he ever had the capacity to recognize.”

Your lips part, but you don’t speak. You just look at me — the way someone looks when they realize they’re home. Not in a place. In a person.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say something sooner,” I whisper. “I should’ve said something years ago.”

You shake your head. “No. I wasn’t ready to hear it.”

We stay there, quietly breathing in sync. I don’t let go of you, not even when the notification on the delivery app pops. You don’t pull away, even when your phone buzzes on the counter.

I slide it toward you without looking. “Do you want to answer it?”

You glance at the screen. “It’s him.”

I nod once. “Do you want me to answer it?”

You smile — slow, tired, real. “No. I don’t want him in here. Not tonight.”

I take your hand again, bring it to my lips. “Come. We’ll eat. Then bath. Then bed. And tomorrow we design the scent—something uniquely you. Bold. Addictive. Impossible to forget.”

Taglist: @pauli-loveslouistomlinson @cherryberrystompers @hontpwk @avensgreenvans @venusnettles @nanaisinmars @sincerely-yours-marsbar @fallingwillow @myonlyangel13 @lexiecamposv @angeldavis777 @unknownkii @daydreamingstyles @bookworm336699 @lntrrys @daydreaming-xo @carolinaastyles @illicitloves @proudravenclawbird @emmie2308

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Hii I wanted to ask if you could maybe do a fic where bucky or Steve has a daughter but the mother isn’t in the picture. Bucky/Steve never told them that they’re the reason that their mother left but she somehow finds out . And maybe the daughter was rude to Steve/ Bucky because she thought it was his fault.

have a great day ! 🤍

The Reason » Steve Rogers/Captain America

Pairings: Dad!Steve Rogers x Teen Daughter!Reader

Summary: You blame Steve for not telling you the reason why your mom left.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, language, absent mother, crying, nicknames

Age of reader: 13 years old

A/N: Thank you for the request, nonnie🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star / divider made by me

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

Ever since you were old enough to talk, you’ve been asking your dad about your mom. Steve always beat around the bush instead of giving you a straight answer.

“Dad, please tell me about my mom.” You begged.

“Y/N.” Steve sighs. “Not right now. I’m working.” He says.

“Can you at least tell me if she’s dead or alive?” You asked.

Steve sighs and looks up from the mission report he’s filling out.

“She’s alive and that’s all I’m saying.” He says. “Now, will you stop asking about her?” He asks.

“Yes.” You replied.

You left the conference room so your dad can get back to work. You gave Bucky a smile as you walked past him. He smiles back.

“Is Y/N still asking you about her mom?” Bucky asks Steve.

“Yes.” Steve sighs.

You weren’t too far down the hall when you heard your dad and Bucky talking about your mom. You walked back down to the conference room and leaned against the wall next to the door, listening to their conversation. You know it’s bad to listen to other people’s conversations, but you couldn’t help yourself.

“You know she has a right to know.” Bucky says.

“I know.” Steve says.

“Why do you keep beating around the bush with it?” Bucky asks.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to tell my daughter that she’s the reason why her mom isn’t in her life.” Steve says.

“I’m the reason why my mom isn’t in my life?” You asked, entering the conference room.

Steve’s eyes went wide when he saw you.

“How much of that did you hear?” Steve asks.

“All of it. Especially the part where I’m the reason why my mom isn’t in my life.” You say.

“Y/N, let me explain.” He says.

You shook your head and ran out of the room and went straight to your bedroom. Steve followed you to your bedroom. He caught the door before you could slam it shut.

“Sweetheart, please let me explain.” Steve pleads.

“Why?! You kept something important from me for years! I don’t want to hear your explanation!” You say, raising your voice at him.

“Y/N, please.” He pleads again.

“No!” You said. “I don’t want to hear anything from you! Get out of my room!” You say.

Steve sighs before leaving your bedroom. You slammed the door shut and locked it. You threw yourself on your bed and started crying. Steve could hear you crying. He hates what this is doing to you. He wishes that he told you sooner.

You don’t know how long you’ve been crying. You readjusted your head on the pillow, looking out the window to see the sun setting. You jumped at the sound of someone knocking on your bedroom door.

“Y/N, sweetheart? Can we please talk?” Steve asks.

“Go away!” You shouted.

“Y/N, please.” He pleads.

You grabbed a shoe and threw it at the door, making Steve jump back. He sighs and goes to the lounge room.

“I should’ve told Y/N about her mom years ago.” Steve says.

“Don’t beat yourself up over, Steve. That won’t do you any good.” Bucky says.

“It’s not going to do me any good if my daughter hates me.” Steve says.

“She doesn’t hate you. She’s just mad at you. She’ll come around.” Bucky says, trying to stay positive.

“I don’t know if she’s going to come around.” Steve says.

Steve knows when you’re mad, it doesn’t last long. He’s not sure if this time is one of those times where it doesn’t last that long. You are really mad at him, because he never told you about your mom. For now, he’s going to leave you alone. He’s going to talk to you about it tomorrow when you’re not as mad at him… hopefully.

A few days go by since you found out the reason why your mom isn’t in your life. Since then, you’ve been rude to your dad and you’ve been giving him attitude. Steve understands that you’re upset with him, but he can only tolerate so much of your rudeness and attitude. Enough is enough.

“I’ve tolerated you being rude to me the past few days. I understand that you’re upset with me, but that’s no excuse for you to give me attitude. Enough is enough!” Steve says sternly, raising his voice.

“Whatever.” You say with an attitude and rolled your eyes.

“Y/N, I swear if you don’t drop the attitude.” He warns.

“I’ll drop the attitude when you tell me why my mom didn’t want me.” You say.

Steve didn’t say anything. He wanted to, but he didn’t want to hurt your feelings. You have a right to know why your mom isn’t in your life. You scoffed and walked away. Your dad grabbed your arm and pulls you into the lounge room.

“Fine. I’ll tell you.” Steve says.

You stared at him, waiting for him to tell you why your mom didn’t want you.

“Your mom didn’t want kids. When she found out she was pregnant, she was going to put you up for adoption, but I wasn’t going to let that happen. I told her that if she had you, I’ll be the one to raise you and take care of you.” Steve explains.

All of your anger towards your dad left your body. Tears filled your eyes and your bottom lip quivered.

“Was I- Was I a mistake?” You asked, your voice cracking.

“No! You are not a mistake!” Steve assures.

“Then why- why didn’t she want me? What did I do?” You asked with tears streaming down your face.

“You didn’t do a thing, sweetheart. You’re innocent in all of this.” He says softly and hugs you.

You broke down in tears in your dad’s arms. Steve hates this for you. He rubs your back to help you calm down and to comfort you.

“Please don’t be mad at me anymore, princess. I only kept it from you to protect you.” Steve says.

“Protect me?” You asked and looked up at him.

“That’s all I was doing, sweetie. That’s all I ever do. I never meant to keep this from you. If you want, I’ll tell you everything you want to know about your mom.” He says.

“Really?” You asked.

“Of course, sweetie.” He replies softly.

“I love you, dad.” You hugged him.

“I love you too, my little soldier.” He hugs you back.

-Bucky’s Doll

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Over the weekend, I had a conversation with a dear friend, and that conversation recalled to mind the simple truth that, in this life, we choose a path. We are either resentful of what we have not achieved or thankful for the opportunity to have both achieved and failed.

Few people wrote about the centrality of that choice better than Andrea Gibson, who passed today at 49 years of age. If you don't know their work, take a moment and consider what you might learn and how you might love better in the time remaining.

And you, Andrea: sleep light and haunt the bastards.

------

In the chemo room, I wear mittens made of ice so I don’t lose my fingernails. But I took a risk today to write this down.

by Andrea Gibson (1975-2025)

Whenever I spend the day crying, my friends tell me I look high. Good grief,

they finally understand me. Even when the arena is empty, I thank god

for the shots I miss. If you ever catch me only thanking god for the shots I make,

remind me I’m not thanking god. Remind me all my prayers were answered

the moment I started praying for what I already have.

Jenny says when people ask if she’s out of the woods, she tells them she’ll never be out of the woods,

says there is something lovely about the woods. I know how to build a survival shelter

from fallen tree branches, packed mud, and pulled moss. I could survive forever

on death alone. Wasn’t it death that taught me to stop measuring my lifespan by length,

but by width? Do you know how many beautiful things can be seen in a single second? How you can blow up

a second like a balloon and fit infinity inside of it? I’m infinite, I know, but I still have a measly wrinkle

collection compared to my end goal. I would love to be a before picture, I think, as I look in the mirror

and mistake my head for the moon. My dark thoughts are almost always 238,856 miles away

from me believing them. I love this life, I whisper into my doctor’s stethoscope

so she can hear my heart. My heart, an heirloom I didn’t inherit until I thought I could die.

Why did I go so long believing I owed the world my disappointment? Why did I want to take

the world by storm when I could have taken it by sunshine, by rosewater, by the cactus flowers

on the side of the road where I broke down? I’m not about to waste more time

spinning stories about how much time I’m owed, but there is a man

who is usually here, who isn’t today. I don’t know if he’s still alive. I just know

his wife was made of so much hope she looked like a firework above his chair.

Will the afterlife be harder if I remember the people I love, or forget them?

Either way, please let me remember.

Copyright © 2023 by Andrea Gibson. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on May 30, 2023, by the Academy of American Poets.

[femrafe]

⋆˙⟡ mommy issues

⤷ rafe finds in you the twisted comfort he never got from his absent mother.

cw: mommy kink, rafe is coked up, praise kink, emotional dependency.

The first time Rafe calls you Mommy, you think it’s a joke.

You're sitting on his lap in his room, the windows open, the sound of crickets bleeding in through the warm night. His hands are all over you like he’s trying to crawl under your skin, restless, and needy.

You smirk, fingers brushing his jaw. “You’re clingy tonight.”

Rafe doesn’t answer at first. He’s looking at you like he’s studying you, but not with softness.

And then, like it slips out too easy:

“Say you’re proud of me, Mommy.”

Your whole body goes still. “What did you just say?”

His hand tightens on your hip. “Just, say it. Please. Just for once.”

You look into his eyes, and something in you cracks. He’s high, you know the signs. There's sweat at his temple, a tremble in his fingers and his voice when he speaks again is low and wrecked and desperate.

“She never did. My mom. Not once. Not when I won, and Rose won’t. Not even when I tried to get clean. Not when I—” He cuts himself off, jaw tight.

You soften, your hand threading into his hair. “Rafe…”

And then he’s kissing you. Sloppy, hot, bruising. Like he's trying to swallow the memory of every time he was made to feel like a mistake. 

You break the kiss and pull back just slightly breathless. “You want me to say it, baby?”

“I need it,” he whispers.

So you let him have it. You wrap your fingers around his jaw, make him look at you, and say it soft but firm:

“I’m proud of you, baby. So proud. You’ve been such a good boy for me.”

Rafe lets out a sound that’s half a moan, half a whimper. His eyes flutter shut like the words physically affect him.

And that’s when you realize: this isn’t a kink. It’s a need. Somewhere deep in his fucked-up psyche, he’s latched onto you like a lifeline, twisted the gaping hole his mother left into something obsessive towards you.

“You’re mine,” he mutters, kissing down your neck. “You’re the only one who gets me. You see me. You, fuck, Mommy, you’re perfect.”

It becomes a thing after that. Not just in bed, though there, it’s almost ritualistic. Him whispering it while he fucks you deep and slow, needing to hear you call him good, needing your approval desperately.

But it bleeds into real life, too.

He snaps when you ignore him for too long, going cold, twitchy. Pacing. “Don’t leave me. Don’t fucking do what she did. You’re not like her. You’re not gonna leave me, right?”

You try to soothe him, but the more you give, the more he needs.

And maybe part of you likes it. Likes being the one person Rafe depends on. But late at night, when he’s wrapped around you needy and murmuring, “You love me more than she ever did, right? You’ll never stop?”, you start to wonder if you're his lover, or just the ghost he’s chasing.

You don’t know when he pulled your panties to the side, or when he started grinding his cock between your thighs, just that by the time you’re aware of it, he’s desperate. Sweaty. Pupils blown wide. Not a trace of that rich-boy smirk left, just raw, aching need.

He doesn’t ask permission. He never does when he’s like this, needy and fucked up and clinging to you like a lifeline.

Rafe slides into you with a groan so guttural it doesn’t sound human. His hands grab at your waist like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. Like he has to hold you down or else he’ll spiral.

“Fuck���Mommy…”

You exhale a shaky breath, your body arching into his. “There’s my good boy,” you whisper, stroking his hair as he starts moving. “So desperate for Mommy’s attention, huh?”

He shudders. “Only yours. Only ever yours.”

Every thrust is a little rougher, a little more frantic. He’s not trying to be pretty or polite, he’s claiming. Like if he fucks you hard enough, deep enough, the part of him that’s still that little boy, still begging his mom to love him, will finally shut the hell up.

You wrap your legs around his waist and moan for him, high and soft. “That’s it. You just needed someone to love you right, didn’t you?”

His eyes flutter closed. His voice cracks. “Yes—fuck, yes—I need it, I need you, please don’t stop, Mommy—please.”

You grab his jaw, force him to look at you. His expression is wrecked, flushed cheeks, tears at the corners of his eyes.

“You want Mommy to tell you you're good?”

He nods fast, almost frantic. “Please—please—I am, I’ve been so good—”

“You have, baby. So fucking good. Mommy’s proud of you.”

That’s all it takes for him to break. 

The thrusts turn frantic. His fingers dig into your thighs hard enough to bruise. His head drops into your shoulder, panting your name between broken cries of 'thank you,' and 'I love you,' and 'don’t ever leave me.'

You’re gasping, moaning his name, clenching around him, losing track of where he ends and you begin. And when you come, it hits like a fever, sharp and dizzying, just from how much he needs you.

Rafe follows seconds later, hips jerking deep, spilling inside you with a choked-off groan that sounds almost relieved. 

He doesn’t pull out, instead he collapses on top of you, face buried in your neck, breath ragged.

“Say it again,” he whispers.

“Say what, baby?”

“That you’re proud of me.”

You press a kiss to his temple. “I’m proud of you, Rafe.”

[fromchaostocosmos]

A correction of information in regards to Mikvahs. Thank you to @magnetothemagnificent for letting me know and for giving me the correct information. It is greatly appreciated.

I do my best to be as accurate as I can be, but it is inevitable that I make mistakes, get something wrong, etc. So if you ever see that happen please do let me know so that I can fix it.

When I study the Tanach one of the many things I do to try and understand it better is to look at whatever part I'm focused on with an understanding of the historical and cultural context and awareness as to when a certain text, commentary, etc. would have been either written or the story taken place.

Because it ends up being incredibly clarifying and elucidating.

And so when I look apply that same parameters in way to a lot of rituals we do as Jews, the Holidays we observe, and the how of it all. It is so obvious how intertwined we are with the Our Land.

So many of Holidays are agricultural in nature. Even though Pesach is about Hashem saving us and taking out slavery it is still very tied into the growing of wheat.

Same goes for Sukkot and Shavuot.

We have a whole bunch of Mitzvot that all about the land and growing and not growing that only apply in Eretz Yisrael. The Shmita Year. The year that we to leave the lands fallow so they may rest.

There are even rules about one disposes of the peels of fruit and vegetables because it must been done in a specific way during that year.

Or think about the Mikvah which is running fresh water which pretty much for most of our history meant a river. Especially when it came to dishes.

Despite the fact that we may be oldest living group of people who have been Diaspora and with the longest Diaspora we none the less maintained an unbroken connection to our Homeland, still kept our rituals which show our connection to our Homeland, and while it may have been small we still kept an unbroken presence in our Homeland all this time.

That is incredible. That is miraculous. That is awe some.

We have also kept our language, our names, our history, and our memory, and our culture.

And while most of the world does not appreciate that and in fact does not see just how an a difficult of a task that is or care to understand why that is an almost impossible task when you are forced in Diaspora, are as old as we are, and through out our history have had people forcibly try to take these things away, and also as a people are not all located together.

It is wild.

Instead the world judges us for being in Diaspora in the first place, for being murdered, for being enslaved, for being raped, for being stolen, for being born in lands that not ours, for being strangers in strange lands, for being not allowed to return to Home, for looking the way we do be too ethnic or not ethnic enough.

All while telling us to go back where we come from, but denying that we come from our Home, refusing to acknowledge any role they may play in anything, ignoring all history and context, and ignoring how amazing our survival is.

There are parts of this world that if you move the very earth gives testament to how our innocent blood has soaked because just moving the ground will shake up our hidden bones.

The reality is we will survive this and we will dance again.

And this will just be another very long chapter in our history.

Because for all people speak of the ancient world and its many empires they always seem to forget that we, Am Yisrael, were alive for that too.

We watched those very empires be born, rise, rule, fall, and then turn dust. To become ancient relics, to lessons in schools and something to study. To be something in seen in museum or history book. Or for a not so accurate version in movies or tv shows.

But we didn't go anywhere. We saw it all and we remembered it all. Oh we suffered yes, but we survived and we thrived and we danced again.

So too this shall survive, shall we live, shall we thrive, shall we dance again.

And if not us then the next generation or the one after them and so on because Am Yisrael Chai עם ישראל חי

[arrietty-rune]

Ppl seems pretty interested for some Shotgun man HCs on my side!! But guess what! I'll also add Captain in it, because hey, why not! I like this guy too >:)

[Please be careful! Mentions of mental disorder and also murder below! Also bad english hehe]

Okay first of all, gender and sexualities, etc. I see Captain being bi (I got influenced by a yumeship I enjoy hahaha!!) But he has very much preferences on guys >:), he also go by he/him pronouns. Shotgun on his side, use he/they pronouns but don't mind any other pronouns, including neo ones, as long it isn't she/they. I HC him being transmasc and pan ! Also AuDHD

Most of time i call them Cappy and Shotty, cute nicknames! But I also gave them actual names, especially for my Sea World AU. Cappy's name is Miles, Shotty's one being Mihka. I wanted to search names that start with the same letter, like John and Jack, and i choose M haha!

Cappy is from Puerto Rico and speak fluently English and Spanish since his childhood. Shotty has origins from Sámi people, he and his family grew up in North Norway and can speak English, Northern Sámi and Norwegian. Sometimes he do mistakes in both three languages (ex => In an English sentence, he can start to speak in Sámi without realizing it and vice versa).

Shotgun has Costume Guy and Lucky as siblings! HC I have from @/spacefatcat , I thing they could have an interesting dynamic!

Shotty likes to eat, uses food as comfort. When he need to work, when he has high energy, low energy, can also depend on emotions! They eat snacks in general, but their faves are cupcakes and donuts

I hc them being in their early 30s, younger that Jack (I kinda see Jack being 34-35 years old, John being 36-37 years old)

Shotgun can have phases of euphoria toward his persception of violence. It happens when they have to confront someone menacing him with a weapon. When these impulses happened, he could lost the persception of reality and having no hesitation to shoot ppl, thinking it was a "funny game".

One day, one of his euphoria phases happened, and despite Captain who tried his best, Shotgun killed a criminal, who injured severely his left eye and his stomash by a knife, then he passed out. While they was in hospital, after an eye surgery, they also started to take medicine to control better his impulses. Since this, none or barely very low euphoria impulses has been shown, as they do their best to hide them as much as he could.

Shotty likes pretending being a pirate cop and intimidating ppl with his gun and his eyepatch (spoiler: he doesn't, ppl see him being just goofy or annoying 💔)

Despite joking with his eyepatch, he never show his damaged eye to ppl. Only his family and Captain has seen him without his eye accessory, and Shotgun themselves hate looking at the mirror without it.

Portrayed as dumb, he is genuinely smart. It shows sometimes by randomly, or also when he fakes his dumb trait and fool people, as to have everything he wants!

He annoy him very much when his name is badly written.

[pipperoo]

in hatchetfield, i always find all the timelines so fascinating because anything could happen in them. some unspeakable horrible thing could happen or someone puts themself in the worst possible situation but, there’s always the hope that somewhere, in some timeline, they didn’t make the mistake or that traumatic event didn’t happen. anything could change.

which just makes the events that happened before october 5th, before the timeline split, all the more tragic. because they’re set in stone, there is never any hope that those can change. across every timeline those events will have always happened

jenny will always be gone, there’ll never be a timeline where she and ted can find each other again. he’ll always have lost her and it’s all his fault. and since he made the decision to change who he was in 04, he’ll always be that sleazeball

hidgens will always be obsessed with making working boys because they will have always died on that football field in that lightning storm. every hidgens we see has had to crawl out from under the fried corpses of the men he loved. he’ll think of the life he could have had with chad and his other boyfriends forever

jerry and jeri will always have that child. since ted remembers hearing lumberaxe dragging his axe around and he certainty didn’t go to the camp after 05, lil jerry will always be raised in the woods and kill the horny campers. girl jeri will always be stuck.

miss holloway will never be able to save those three girls. she will have always made her deal with the lords in black. despite the people she saves now, she can never do anything to spare the lives that kickstarted this whole thing for her

it’s just the fact that some things, that didn’t make the 2005 cutoff point, will never be altered, will never be changed! those people will always be dead, they will have always done those things. every single version of each character across any timeline will still be marked by the same defining events

[chainsawworld]

Imalways so torn up between letting myself feel negative emotions besides anger cause I never do and being like wellllllll... it IS nearly 9 so really none of these are Real emotions so what's the point?

[spikes-got-anger-issues]

It's kind of neat how both of Chase's bionic eyes perform different functions

[enmascribbles]

Macaque is Japanese in the AU?

no? i was meant to be a kny red light distract kind of au where they dress up mac to go do some like info gathering work.

I do wanna say tho I did some talking with some of my chinese friends on twitter i realized that people may not like him being dressed like that and will find it disrespectful so I won't be drawing him in a kimono anymore