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#veggies sweater
drinksss · 7 months
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darkling beetle
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snootyfoxfashion · 9 months
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Veggie Patch Kewpie Sweatshirt and Print by SalutingSoloMagpies
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allistersatelier · 1 year
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you just know i got my fiddledeedees on 😂
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volcanobxtch · 2 years
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Decided to isolate this cute little Techno Goth (Veggie Burger??) composition from an in-progress comic.
[Image ID: A drawing of Tucker and Sam sharing a chair with their focus on Tucker’s Switch. Tucker is sitting in Sam’s lap with Sam's arms around his waist and her head resting on his shoulder. Tucker is wearing a red beanie with short dreads, a goldenrod yellow turtleneck sweater, green cargo pants, and white shoes. Sam is wearing a black crop top with a fishnet layer over top, purple pleated plaid skirt, artistically ripped purple leggings, and black combat boots with purple treads and bright green laces. Tucker has the tips of his dreads dyed green and purple. Sam has streaks of purple, green, and orange in her hair. /. End ID]
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adamsrcnan · 3 months
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every single day. every. single. day. i'm haunted by that one iconic tumblr post about kevin's perfect match being some random person he meets at the grocery store who doesn't know a thing about exy. (I'm pretty sure that's the gist of the post it's so old and i can never find it)
like i'm never not thinking about it.
sooooo
imagine a kevin day in his late 20's ???? he doesn't ever go shopping. can't remember the last time he did but he's restless before a big game. he's craving a healthy protein filled snack. it's like 1am. he goes to the 24 hour grocery store. he's got his hood up. if anyone catches him here he'll be swarmed. his pr managers will have his head. he's reaching for his snack. someone speaks up behind him. says something like "the peanut butter ones are the best ones" kevin, with an eye roll and a scoff ready to fall from his lips, turns to the stranger. then he pauses. he's cute. curly hair. glasses. a sweater vest. he notices kevin's tattoo. says "nice tattoo" kevin freezes. oh no, here it comes. then the stranger drops a random historical fact about chess. he's baffled. he's pretty sure he said the exact same thing when he was sitting in the chair at the tattoo parlor half drunk all those years ago. but he takes too long to respond. so the stranger smiles awkwardly and says "see you around" and leaves. kevin can't stop thinking about him. may or may not make one too many midnight trips to the grocery store. he finally see's him again. this time he drops a historical fact on the guy about the veggies he's buying. he laughs. kevin short circuits at the sound. then the man is giving him his number. he doesn't text for days. afraid he's a crazy psycho fan. but then he see's him again. the man looks a little embarrassed when he apologises for being so forward. he's walking away when kevin says "you don't know who i am?" the man looks totally baffled. "should i?" he says back. now kevin is the one baffled. so kevin texts him. they talk about history. kevin doesn't talk about exy. turns out the stranger is a history teacher. kevin is enamoured. but the man still doesn't know who he is. kevin strangely wants to keep it that way. but the little bubble bursts eventually. the kids at the man's school are talking about exy. he's heard of it of course, but isn't a sports guy, so never paid attention. then kevin's name is dropped. and then history teacher is googling kevin. and it's him. it's grocery store kevin. his kevin. he goes a little ghost. he doesn't wanna date a professional famous world star athlete. takes him a couple days but kevin catches on. texts him saying "you figured it out..." they don't talk. they see each other at the grocery store again weeks later. they sit outside in the parking lot at night. history teacher asks him about exy. he doesn't know much or anything. kevin goes off on one. history teacher likes how passionate he is. takes a chance. they keep talking. history teacher listens to kevin talk about exy. kevin listens to him talk about history. they go on secret museum dates. kevin takes the man running even tho he hates it. the man falls in love. kevin falls in love. kevin wakes up one day, and he is finally happy in love.
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quartings · 5 months
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The original Gravity Falls pitches and pilot just dropped!!
(Link for those who want it)
For those who don't wanna look through all of it, here are some highlights I found!
Interesting changes from the pitch (What Alex Hirsch showed Disney to make them greenlight the show):
Stan’s secret was that he’s secretly protecting the townsfolk from weirdness, nothing to do with Ford. No mention of Ford in the pitch at all. Stan also wanted Dipper and Mabel to be his successors in this version.
Mabel used to be the unhygienic one instead of Dipper.
Wendy was brunette and didn’t work as the Mystery Shack cashier, instead selling veggie juice out of her van.
As such, Soos (Jesús in this version) worked the register in addition to his handyman job in this version. He was a bit less of a hard worker here, watching telenovelas on the job sometimes, but still loves his job and is extremely loyal to Stan.
Robbie was almost exactly the same, parents’ backstory and all, but there’s an interesting note that he occasionally clashed with Gideon in this version (which we never got in the final show)
Speaking of which, Gideon’s last name in this version was Garrymore instead of Gleeful.
Gideon used to personally harass and prank Stan, going out of his way to vandalize Stan’s stuff himself.
Manly Dan was always planned to be Wendy’s dad. In this version, he hates the idea that his hipster daughter prefers conserving the environment instead of chopping down forests
(For those who wanted more Wendy episodes, I’m surprised Hirsch didn’t use this as a conflict for one of them- it makes her interesting without costing any of her “coolness”)
Sheriff Blubs was originally Sheriff “Blumps”. Durland has the same name likely because Hirsch said he’s named after a real guy.
With no Ford and no Journal mentioned, episodes were originally very different-
“The President’s Cabinet/Irrational Treasure.” Instead of via the journal, Dipper and Mabel find a record of Quentin Trembley in a box buried in the yard. No Pacifica mentioned here.
“Secret Dungeon” Dipper becomes obsessed with a recalled arcade cabinet. Mabel must try and save him by finding the original high scorer.
“Thtupid Thursday” One of the many ‘Shining Twins’ episode concepts Hirsch wanted to do. Dipper and Mabel learn ‘twin telepathy’ from some creepy twins, and soon regret it.
“Periodic Mabel” Mabel invents her own element for the science fair and Dipper is jealous.
“Only the Clonely/Boyz Crazy” The exact same episode just without Candy and Grenda. Sev’ral Timez is called “ReelBoyzzz” in this version.
“Big Dipper” With surprisingly no tie to Little Dipper, Dipper asks a fortune teller to make him older so he can win Wendy over. But she makes him 22, so he and Mabel have to undo the spell.
“Sweater off Dead” Mabel buys an antique sweater and is possessed by the soul of the granny who last wore it. Stan is terrified by the spirit because she reminds him of his ex-wife Marilyn (Deep Edalyn Clawthorne lore???) so Dipper must “Swexorcize” his sister and save her.
“Teed Off/The Golf War” With no Pacifica, this was originally a Dipper vs Gideon episode- No Lilliputtians, either. Instead, the 13th hole is cursed and traps the cast in a time loop.
Now, changes from the Production Pitch (I’m guessing for when the show was already greenlit and this was a way to brief crew members on what the show would 100% be about)
Stan’s secret (likely the portal) and the journal are now set in stone.
Emphasis on continuity and character development. Nothing gets “reset” by next episode. All plot developments are permanent.
All character names and designs are locked in. Pacifica has now been added, as well as Waddles, Gompers, Lazy Susan, Candy and Grenda, and McGucket (No mention or hint at his past here)
Interesting to note is that there is still zero outright mention of Ford and Bill in this version, even though multiple episodes were seemingly in production at this point.
Manly Dan’s conflict with Wendy from the original pitch is still here. Making it even more mindblowing that we never got it in the show
Blubs and Durland are described as a little more playful instead of mean like in the original pitch.
All episode examples made it into the show with no changes this time. They are Tourist Trapped, Legend of the Gobblewonker, Fight Fighters, Boyz Crazy, and The Land Before Swine.
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sassassian · 1 month
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A marauders headcanon I am unwilling to negotiate is that James and Lily loved Remus so much and vowed both to themselves and to each other that they would take care of him always, and that didn’t change even when things got dark and there were shadows of doubt that he could be the spy in the Order. They talked about it and decided that even if he were the spy, that’s on him, and they won’t cheapen the way they love by acting on an unproven possibility. So after everything happens and Remus is /desolate/ under the grief, and he’s wasted away for months and ignored every knock on his door and every attempt made to check on him, he gets to a point where he knows he’s either gotta kill himself or find a fucking way to survive.
So he gets up and he showers and puts on clothes that he’s positively swimming in with how much he’s shrunken in on himself and he sends an owl to Gringotts to see how much money he’s got tucked into his abysmal savings, and when the owl comes back the balance is tens of thousands of gallons more than he’s ever even seen in it.
And that’s how he finds out that James and Lily wrote him into their wills. That they’d set aside money for him to just in case they couldn’t be there any longer to mysteriously refill his cupboard with canned goods and his fridge with fruit and veggies every time they stopped by, or to bring him sweaters that’d grown out of that just happened to be in his size with the tag still on them, or line the pockets of the private healer that regularly came to tend to him after a particularly bad full moon.
It’s how he’s able to survive the next year. It’s why he decides to. Because even though it feels impossible to be alive in a world without them, they’d already made a plan to make sure he could do it.
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bellesdreamyprofile · 2 months
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a baby miracle: part 1
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You’ve always wanted to be a mother - the thought of having a little child running around and their giggles filling the house, brought you joy and satisfaction. Whenever you went shopping with Benny (which was quite rare, since he hated shopping), you always found your way in the baby section, looking at itty bitty clothes. It was like a calling - you were sure because of your nurturing nature you were meant to be a mother.
Today’s doctor appointment confirmed what your hopes had been for the entirety of your adult years - you were pregnant. You smiled at the sweet woman and thanked her as a picture of your little baby was printed out. Endless scenarios played in your head at the idea of your happy little baby dressed in frilly little clothes. A mini version of you and Benny.
Benny.
You shakily slid the envelope with your results in your bag. Realization hit you - there had to be a bump on the road — ironically. You never discussed having children with Benny, mostly because of his lifestyle, but also because it was a topic that simply never came up.
The bag kept sliding down your shoulder as you made your way home. A glance at your watch made you realize that Benny wasn’t home yet, giving you some time to think about the way you were going to break down the situation to him.
You made his favorite steak and potatoes with a side salad and set the table. Once satisfied with the results, you looked down at your outfit and scoffed at the stain on your favorite sweater. So you made your way upstairs and took it off, though as you moved towards your wardrobe, you caught your own reflection in the adjacent mirror.
Your gaze moved on your bare stomach - you were absolutely aware that there was nothing yet, but your hand still found its way there. You gently rubbed it and closed your eyes at the feeling of burning tears building up. Prayers invaded your head, prayers of hope that Benny was going to be happy at the news - like every husband would be. 
That was when you idealized again - trying to shape Benny into the man he wasn’t. It wasn’t fair to him since he never tried to change you or your habits for his own.
The door opened, making your eyes snap open at the noise. You breathed out and hastily grabbed the first sweater you found and put it on, trotting downstairs.
His blue eyes looked up and a smile made its way on his face. “Hey baby.”, as soon as you reached him, he pulled you into his arms and placed a kiss to your temples. That was a sign that he had had a rough day at the club.
“Hey honey.”, you murmured against his chest. “Rough day?”, Benny hummed in response and you found yourself sighing, forcing your eyes shut.
“I made your favorite.”, you said and put your chin on his chest, looking up at him. He lazily smiled and kissed the tip of your nose.
“The steak, potatoes and the vegetables you force me to eat?”, you nodded as a small laugh escaped your lips.
“It’s a small salad that won’t kill you, honey. As your wife it’s my job to make sure that you get your daily veggies in.”, you teased, but he simply shook his head with a small smile on his lips.
“Okay.”, he shrugged. “You know what’s best anyways.”, Benny led you to the table and sat down on the seat across from yours. He wasn’t very talkative during meals, but he always had the most interesting stories before bed. Head on his chest, fingers twirling your hair and his pretty eyes fixated on the ceiling. It was now a routine.
His knife cut through the steak and his fork brought it to his lips, eyes fighting the urge to close at the taste. “Now that’s a steak.”, he complimented, glancing your way.
You gave him a small smile and sighed, questioning your ability to keep such a secret to yourself. During dinner at least.
“I don’t even mind the salad, baby—“
“I’m pregnant.”
You cut him off, your tone higher than usual. So much for holding back until after dinner. Benny’s movements stopped, his eyes set on the centre of the table, unable to meet yours.
You were already crying, salty tears rolling down your cheeks as your little secret was finally out in the world. You expected relief — anything. There was absolutely nothing worse than Benny’s silence. Even on regular days you had a hard time figuring out if he was happy, sad or disappointed.
You brushed a tear away and almost burned his skin with the way you were staring at him. “Please say something, Benny. Anything.”
His eyes snapped your way, the redness taking you by surprise. “What do you want me to say?”, he said lowly and set his knife and fork aside.
And then he said the worst thing he possibly could’ve.
“I have to go.”
At the sight of him standing up, you panicked, feeling your heart drop to the floor and shatter in millions of pieces. “N-No, Benny, please.”
Benny was quick to grab his denim jacket and put it on without giving you a second glance. Your footsteps were quicker as you grabbed his bicep.
“Please look at me, honey. Please.”, your words of plea didn’t make him budge. Your finger gently curled under his chin, turning it your way. His jaw clenched at the sight of your endless tears. Oh, but how your heart broke at the sight of his blue eyes. His nose scrunched, moving away from you again.
“I have to go.”, he said firmly, but you wouldn’t — couldn’t let him go. You couldn’t be alone in a moment like this. You had no idea on how you’d react the moment your husband stepped foot outside your home.
“No, you don’t.”, your voice was a mere whisper. “I can’t leave this situation either, Benny.”, you sniffled and brought one of your hands to wipe away some tears. “You told me. We’re a team. One doesn’t leave the other.”
At the way his own words were used on him, Benny’s blue eyes slowly met yours. A mix of red, blue and salty tears stood in front of you. Your hand slowly lifted up, caressing his cheek gently.
“I’m scared.”, the little break in his voice made you cradle his face as he leaned into your touch. “I-I won’t be a good father—“
You shook your head and pecked his lips repeatedly. A sigh fell from your lips as you leaned your forehead on his. “You’ll be perfect—“
Benny sniffled, shaking his head. “I-I won’t. I’ll fuck up and the kid’s gonna resent me for the rest of their life.”, you moved back, gazing into the eyes that always held confidence and love. Now stood a broken man in front of you.
You cleared your throat and, with a gush of courage, took one of his hands in yours. You brought it your abdomen and pressed it with both of yours. His eyes met yours again and the tears he desperately tried to keep at bay, started falling down.
“This baby—“, you sniffled. “This baby will love you no matter what. And I know that because— because I love you no matter what, Benny.”, he kept shaking his head a little as his eyes threw glances at your joined hands. “We love you because you’re you. We don’t want anyone else. Just you.”
His eyes closed as small whimpers left his lips. Heartbreak couldn’t compare to whatever you were feeling in the moment. You brought his head to your shoulder as you caressed his hair in comfort. His arms circled your body, fingertips pressed to your skin to feel your warmth — clinging to you like a baby to his mother.
As much as you convinced yourself that Benny was going to stay with you, your heart broke at his state. He never revealed too much of his past, always telling you you’re my present and future so that ain’t relevant, but it was clear that fatherhood was a touchy subject.
One step at a time, you reminded yourself. 
One step at a time.
A/N: this healed me and broke me in twenty different ways
MASTERLIST
PART 2
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the-isekai-ninja · 1 month
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Thinking about Kakashi moving in with you.
It's only been a few months since you started dating but every time he's been over he leaves another thing there. First it was some clothes, just so you had something that smelled like him when he was away.
Then a tooth brush and other small toiletries for when he's too tired to go home.
Then books you definitely didn't purchase start appearing on your shelf. On your coffee table. One you found under your bed.
Eventually you jokingly suggest he just moves in with you, but the puppy dog eyes he gives you at the suggestion makes you cave and that same night you and him are packing up his place and moving everything he owns over to yours.
Really, it would have made more sense for you to move in with him as his old place had way more space then your tiny townhouse but you have a wonderful balcony that shows an incredible landscape of Konoha he can't get enough of so it was a no brainer that sacrificing space for the view was worth it.
It doesn't really hit you until a week into it when things have settled. You had gotten an extra set of keys cut for everything and now Kakashi had his own designated spot on your key rack at the front door.
His food and drinks are in your fridge and pantry, extra glasses and plates from his house now shared the space with yours. Horribly mismatched but you wouldn't have it any other way.
His flak vest hangs over one of your dining chairs, too lazy to hang it up properly in a closet as it'll be put back on the very next morning.
Your laundry basket fills up faster now and doing laundry has his clothes mixed with yours. He folds the clean clothes with you as you chat about your day.
Showers he becomes a nightmare. He barges in without a care in the world, asking if he can join you. You've thrown a loofa at him a few times now, sometimes a shower needed to stay a shower and you were always too weak to say no when he started getting handsy.
He makes dinner and you sit at the counter as you watch him, a pink frilly apron you were jokingly gifted as a housewarming present now wrapped around his waist as he chops some veggies.
It's jarring the first time Gai came to visit, asking if Kakashi was home. It takes you a few seconds of gears turning in your head before you remember that yes, of course people would come to see kakashi here, he lives with you! Kakashi warns you later Gai was just being polite since this is still new, eventually he'll go back to barging in without a care in the world.
The nail on the coffin at how absolutely domestic all of this has become, is when you leave the bathroom to see Kakashi tucked into bed with a book in his hands. He's reading comfortably with a small light on and you can't help but stare. He's in a sweater as it's gotten colder and his mask is nowhere to be found. You stand there for an uncomfortably long time and finally Kakashi glances up to ask you what's wrong.
"You live with me." You announce, as if he wasn't aware of this fact.
He stares at you bewildered but it slowly turns into amusement, "Yes. Yes I do. Have for a few days now."
"You live with me." You state again, finally processing after a whirlwind week the meaning of this change.
Kakashi puts his book to the side to address you properly, "Yes? Is that...a problem...?"
A surge of excitement, love, and passion all bubble up inside of you at once and you fling yourself at Kakashi, catching the Copy Ninja off guard as you wrap your arms around his neck and pepper kisses against his cheek.
Kakashi is taken aback by the sudden action but recovers quickly and wraps his own arms around your torso, pulling you in close to himself as you continue to kiss his bare face. Cheeks, nose, mouth, chin, eyes. It's an onslaught that the ninja is unable to (and doesn't want to) stop.
You shove your face into his chest, nuzzling it in excitement. You peak up and give Kakashi a goofy grin, "You live with me!"
Kakashi gives you an incredulous look before a laugh erupts from his chest, shaking you as you lie on top of him. "I do!"
He kisses your forehead as he pulls you in even closer. You crawl over his lap and cup his face in your hands as you kiss him more.
You pull away to take him in. He's smiling at your antics as he rubs your back with one of his hands as the other slides up to caress your cheek. "Sometimes I feel like I don't deserve this." he confesses.
You squish his cheeks before pecking his lips, "Well it's a good thing it's not solely your decision."
He chuckles, "I suppose so. Thank you. You make me so happy you have no idea."
You huffed, "Kakashi I was so happy that you're here my brain short circuited and I tackled you just a few seconds ago, I have a small idea."
He pulls you in to kiss you again, this time with far more passion than the innocent kisses you had been giving out before. He flips you over to cage you against his body, one arm still wrapped around your waist as the other is used to keep himself hovering over you. "I love you."
You smile up at him, hands going to wrap around his neck again, "I love you too Kakashi. Forever and always."
"Forever and always." He replies back, leaning down to meet your lips again.
In a year, he will find his way back to his old family home and clean it up. When he proposes to you just a week later he'll take you there and tell you it's yours. You'll have to pack up again, say goodbye to the view of your balcony where the two of you spent many quiet nights enjoying each other's company.
Your plates still won't match, his flak vest now has a small space to hang at the front door, your laundry will still get fuller faster, and Kakashi will still try to sneak into your shower. Gai will barge into your home and Kakashi still loves making dinner in that silly pink apron because it makes you laugh.
You'll find you don't miss your small townhouse that could barely fit a second bookshelf because Kakashi has become your home, and you had become his. Wherever you two ended up, so long as you were together, you would be happy together.
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stararch4ngelqueen · 6 months
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A Spoonful of Honey
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Jason Todd/pregnant fem!reader (cause why not, I started reading the adventures comic so silly Jason is just on my mind as much as big beefy himbo acting like a baby over taking medicine. Chat I’ve been through it these past months, so this isn’t proofread)
Time Written - 11:05 p.m
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The morning was cold, dreadfully cold, with a humid fog blanketing the dreary skies, blurring the atmosphere in a quiet haze. The temperature reached forty degrees at the highest around the late evening, giving those who had no business being outside a perfect excuse to remain indoors.
You basked in this opportunity to bring out your gold handle, cream colored dutch oven. Soft cardigan sleeves pushed up to your elbows to cut vegetables for a hearty dinner.
Slow, rugged feet trudged into the kitchen in the midst of you sautéing a rainbow assortment of veggies in butter and oil, dressed in his ‘plain ol’ civilian clothing’, a muted gray hoodie pulled over his head.
A sort throat was how it started; signifying the side effects to his nightly routine. Vigorous exercise could only help so much to fight off the chill, but with temperatures dropping incredibly low, sweat could nearly freeze on skin shortly after it’s been secreted.
The cold nearly nipped a permanent flush to his chiseled cheeks, kissing a sprinkle of color on his nose. He looked as exhausted as he did the previous night, when he first arrived home with a short cough and occasional clear of his throat.
Jason was sick, in the beginning stages of a cold. He’s not even bothering to hide it, yet continued to insist it wasn’t as bad as he led it on to become.
“You’re makin’ soup?” he asked. A comforting, light pressure of broad muscle against your back. Warm hands roaming from their soft placement along your hip dips roam forward, rustling along the fabric of your plush sweater, palms finally settling snug over your stomach.
“Mhm.” You nod, settling one of your hands over his interlaced fingers. “Chicken. With potato, and a ton of vegetables you like.”
“Mmm,” he hums, lightly sniffing the delectable curls of seasoned steam from your spice additions. “Smells incredible, ma.”
“Thank you. Good for the cold,” you comment, feeling satisfied at your seasoned sauté of protein and vegetables. You glance over your shoulder, smiling a little at his calm, droopy expression. “And colds.”
“Wow. Funny.” He murmurs per your amusement, taking over in reaching for the box of broth you set aside.
“You looked a little under the weather. Just wanted to help you feel a little better.” You reply after nodding in thanks for his aid, snapping open the seal to the box.
“You’re always taking care of me.” He exhales, his head tilting to kiss you on the cheek. He sounds grateful for the consideration, but he’s not very surprised by it.
You always had a tendency to spoil him. It’s just been your nature since the minute he first knew you.
“How’s the little one doing?” he asks, thumbs brushing light ovals over the soft mound of your protruding bump. Barely the size of an overripe grapefruit, or an underripe honeydew.
“Fine. No complaints,” you continue while pouring in the chicken broth. “Though, I’m sure the baby’s convinced that papa is doing a terrible job not resting up.”
Of course, he says nothing of it to confirm or deny. As if there was anything to deny, you could hear it in his slightly nasally tone. His fingers continue their gently ministrations, his eyes seemingly fixated on your actions, or unfocused as his mind trails off to space.
“Jay.”
“Hm?” His head slightly perks, leaving you to instantly assume the latter.
“It’s only been four months. You won’t feel much at four months.”
Maybe it’s faint arrogance to the doctor’s words. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but he thinks that he can feel their baby shifting and wriggling around inside. He never thought of it before until it occurred to him one day, entering his mind at first as a silly thought before turning into a strong fixation.
“What, are you expecting it to come out and give you a high five?”
“Shut up.” He grunts, earning you a smirk.
“Couch,” you instruct, your gentle squeeze of your hand on his forearm combatting your firm tone. “Dinner’s almost done. Go relax.”
“Alright.” He’s quick to agree, yet his actions say otherwise. For a man who’s known by others to sulk, in your doting presence he reverts to a state a comfortable serenity, regardless of this mild illness weighing heavy on his tired bones. Regardless of your ever so heartwarming instruction, he retaliates with gentle backlash, consisting of third grade retorts and heavy groans. All in good fun, merely poking at your funny bones to catch a glimpse of a smile.
He moves his hand in little circles against your belly, waiting for his baby to respond. While he doesn’t feel any kicks just yet, he’s excited just thinking about all the times they have to come.
As much as you loved every ounce of physical touch, the slightest pet peeve of him not doing as you requested for his own good irked your mind. “Jason. You gotta move.”
“Can’t,” he mutters, “I’m fine right where I am.”
“You can play with the baby after you eat, Jason,” you insist. “You gotta eat, take some medicine, and rest. You can’t take medicine until you’ve eaten first.”
“I bet you the baby’s hungry, too.” Such sweet words from his mouth nearly had you melting on the spot. Already a doting father in waiting, how could you not feel your heart flutter?
“Jason,” you insist once more, your spoon resting on the rim of the cooking pot.
“Don’t wanna,” he replies, sounding both annoyed and amused by such insistence. His warm body never separated from yours for a mere five to seven minutes after that, your palm reaching up and back to catch his cheek, meeting the warm skin of his flushed face.
“You ever notice that you get grouchy during a cold—“
“I’m not grouchy right now though—”
“—the baby wouldn’t want their papa to be grouchy.”
“And you’re being a little mean.”
“Me? Mean?” You sounds surprised, though you’re smiling wide the entire conversation.
“Yes, you.”
“I could never.”
He doesn’t look at you though, his voice sounding playful once more. “You’re being super mean, trying to make me eat and take medicine and everything. The audacity, ma.”
You scoff as you closes the pot, turning your full bodied attention to Jason.
You smile, adoring your sick beloved, the father of your unborn baby gazing down at you with exhausted, lovestruck teal eyes. He always looked so cute, especially sick with a cold. Especially with the mentality of thinking he can do what he wants at this moment, thinking he’s said all the right words to coerce you.
“Good. That’s called love, now gooo.”
He sighs, and he’s really not looking forward to it. The idea of eating just doesn’t sound appealing right now anymore, nor does taking the medicine. Either way, the coziness of his woman wrapped in pearl colored cashmere with a cozy smile finally allured him towards the promising comfort of the living room couch, a temporary respite.
Inevitably, He left you to finish, granting the kitchen vocal silence for the next twenty minutes, apart from the soft drum of heavenly soup coming to a boil. Only when you come to find him did you see him flopped on the couch, an arm draped over his eyes to block all means of light.
You beckon him with a bowl of warm soup settling on the coffee table, alongside the eventual promise of lemon balm tea with a spoonful of crystallized honey.
“I don’t even feel that sick,” he grunts as he sits up, his voice starting to get a little hoarse from him talking (and complaining). Let the big guy say what he wants, you knew him better than even he admitted to allow.
“Then you’ll have no problem drinking my horrible concoction,” your gentle sarcasm would never be heard as unfavorable in his ears.
Jason takes a sip of his soup, slightly wincing from the heat on his sore throat, but he doesn’t seem as pleased with it as he’d originally thought. It tastes good, everything you’ve ever concocted for meals brought comfort, but as of now. he’s not really as hungry as he anticipated.
“What is this? Chicken, right?” He’s just making small talk now, wanting the conversation to last. “It’s really good, really, ma. Just not as hungry as I thought.”
You nod, not really happy about the outcome. But again, he’s sick. You can’t blame him.
“Take a few more sips, at least. Just so the medicine dosent make your stomach hurt.”
Jason looks away when you mentions the medicine, but he nods all the same. He eats what he can from his bowl, his shoulders slumping as exhaustion decides to increase weight down on his bones, forcing him into an even drowsier state.
All he does is partially lean against you after setting his bowl back on the table, keeping his eyes closed to ease the faint throbbing pressure building at the top of his head.
“I don’t even like cold medicine… I can’t sleep when I’m drowsy.” He mutters to himself, seeming to babble to no one but himself on not being so ill.
Your hand reach up to settle along his back, easing the tension with your fingers massaging his neck, confusion conflicting your mind at first.
“What you just said made no sense,” you giggle a bit, watching him lazily shake his head with a mild scoff.
He presses his head against the curve of your shoulder, his voice growing soft like a cat’s rumble. One of his arms settles lazily around your back. his body feeling practically limp.
By now, his response came in a series of short, muffled hums. He’s not complaining, really, but he is being extremely clingy. He just wants to be wrapped up in your arms, succumbing to an incredibly long sleep in your embrace, as if he can’t support his own weight. (He really can, but chooses not to.)
“On the bright side, the medicine says it tastes like honey.” You gently suggest, putting optimism where it may have lacked.
“Can’t you take it for me?” He lightly whines, his voice rumbling with a drowsy rasp. At this point, it’s not even because of the cold. Jason’s just too exhausted to think straight.
“I don’t know if pregnant women can take this kind of cold medicine,” you whisper to him, holding his shoulder after combing through his hair.
“Pretty please?” He whispers, his body feeling a little warmer from your presence. As comforting as it may have been to him now, a few minutes longer would’ve resorted in an uncomfortable ache in his neck from this poor posture.
“C’mon baby, just one little cup of medicine and you can sleep as much as you want. I’ll even yell at Bruce or Dick if they even try to call.”
Jason gives a light chuckle, his nose brushing along your jaw before planting a minor kiss along your neck.
“Fine, guess I’ll stop giving mama a hard time about it. It’ll be your job in about five months.” He speaks in second tense towards the bump in between you, followed by an eye roll on your end.
Watching you measure out the golden, syrupy mixture of potentially foul tasting medicine left him in a weak bind. He’d graciously drink horrid syrups consisting of fear toxin and joker venom if it meant you’d spoon-feed him an antidote. Such blind devotion was rare to come by throughout his life, comfort was your name in a foreign language.
He’s blessed with your smile once he had gotten the medicine down, rewarded with a kiss on the tip of his nose and a cup of promised tea, ambrosia to combat the foul taste. Goddamn medicine bottles with their stupid, deceiving lies.
“I’m sorry I’ve been so needy.” His slurred mumbling surprised you the most as you adjusted the blankets between the two of you.
A light tongue click leaves you, shaking your head in denial from such an unnecessary apology. “Don’t be, you silly man.”
Whether from some conflicting guilt, or illness inducing dysphoria on his mind, or shame, you gently deny and accept his apology with another kiss.
The effect of the medication is quickly kicks into place after ten minutes in bed, starting to drift off into a deep and dreamless sleep.
Nothing but calm silence steals his consciousness for a few hours, warm bodies sheltered by the chilly winds batting against fogged glass throughout the long hours of the night. Despite the occasional faint echoes of neighbors next door and above, serene silence envelopes the minds of exhausted bodies.
You were snuggled up beside him with one of many pillows invading the space. Your cardigan sprawled neglected on the floor, cast aside due to the overwhelming seer of body heat.
He sighs softly, still tired, but his eyes glance over to the time on the nightstand clock.
He’s been asleep for hours, the time being … A little after eleven.
“Damn.” He whispers, drawing your closer to his body in a close hold. You feel so good like this, so safe. Spending all this time with him, doting on him, caring for him would mean the fifty percent chance you’d be afflicted next once he got better. Jason didn’t mind one bit, as much as he knew he should’ve been the one spending all his free time being attentive to your needs.
Either of you would look back on this and laugh of it, considering it practice for the baby.
For now, in the short time period of limbo between doctors appointments, checklists on supplies, criminal justice, and other impending challenges of becoming parents, everything was quiet. Calm, perfect even.
“Shh, the baby’s sleeping,” you softly retaliate, your hand cradling over his on the bump. You nudge just a little closer to the warmth radiating off him, seeking comfort with the furnace you call your beloved.
“What time is it?”
“Sleeping time,” he retorts, still sounding a little drowsy, his words coming out slow and somewhat slurred. His nose felt more stuffy than before, his head aching with a pressure that grew the longer he remained awake.
Once more, calloused fingers rustle against the fabric of his shirt on your body, potentially to be stretched during the later months to come. Here’s to hoping, he’s been secretly dying to see it.
“I love you both,” he whispers along your forehead, speaking from his heart in the sanctuary of your shared vulnerability.
You smile, tilting your head up to plant a soft, exhausted kiss on his chin. “We love you too,” you whisper, fighting back sleep to express an intimate act of love.
He closes his eyes, ready to sleep again. He’s not tired yet, stuck between the purgatory of both conscious states, but he’s not going to be able to stay awake much longer. At this point, he’s already half in the land of dreams. He’s comfortable—and happy to be with you, and with his baby.
“Never wanna let go of you two,” he mumbles, faintly catching the fragrance of your shampooed hair, the faint spice of ambery musk clinging to your skin.
You can’t help but quietly coo, burying most of your face against the crook of Jason’s neck.
“Then, don’t.”
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hyunnie04 · 10 months
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summary: changbin loves to spoil you, but you won’t let him.
pairing: changbin x gn! reader
word count: 1117 words
warning: small mention of financial insecurities
genre: fluff
a/n: hi! this is my first drabble/short fic on this blog, i know its a little rough around the edges but i hope you guys like it anyways! any feed back is welcomed ^^
a more recent a/n; i edited this a bit at the end just to make it more coherent!
im having binnie brainrot atm excuse me
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changbin has always been an observant person. when you and changbin first started dating, he began to notice something you did often. 
when you two would go out to run some errands together, or just simply go out on a date- it would be almost a routine that you two would just walk around, looking at clothes and or just looking at necessities for your shared apartment. changbin trails behind you, glancing and observing some of the random paraphernalia on the shelf.    
you smile at the white knit sweater that you have been eyeing since earlier this year, feeling it’s nice and soft material between your fingers. oh how you wish you could bring it home, but you knew better. your wallet and your conscience was practically yelling at you to not spend a single dime on stuff you probably don't need. you suddenly feel changbin’s gaze on your figure. 
“you like that sweater?” he tilts his head towards the article of clothing, adjusting his thick black frame resting on his nose bridge.
you knew that look, his eyebrows raising in question. he wants to buy it for you. putting the piece of fabric back in it's place, you turn to him and smile. “i-no, it’s alright.” he stares at you again, making you tilt your head at him. “but you’ve been eyeing that sweater every time we pass this place.” 
“you should get it.” he continues and smiles at you. “i’ll get it some other time. I don't… have the money right now.” you lie, voice much smaller. shaking your head and waving him off, you continue to browse the isles. he strides after you, confused. “i can get it for you, you know.”
“bin, it's okay, really.” you smile and insist. you hope that he wouldn’t press on the topic anymore. his keen eyes notice once again when you hold up a ceramic cup with a silly design that he knows you love, but after staring at it for a good minute, you quickly put it back down. changbin sighs and makes a mental note of the things you were eyeing. he’d just have to make an impromptu trip back to this shop once he has some free time.
-
now back at home, you sigh and plop down on the plush couch. your feet are just aching from the miles and miles you two have walked the entire day. changbin presses a kiss onto your forehead and beelines it to the bathroom. grumbling about how he has to pee. you laugh.
after a while, the rumbling in your stomach signals you to finally get up and make dinner for the both of you. shuffling to the kitchen, you start with opening the stove and chopping up some veggies. a strong pair of arms suddenly engulf you from behind, startling you.
“bin! i am holding a knife, don’t startle me like that.” you laugh as he starts to trail kisses on the column of your neck. he chuckles and rests his head on your shoulder for a moment. it takes a while before he starts swaying you side to side without saying anything. you've known him for so long to know when he has something on his mind.
"what's on your mind, honey?" you hum, putting the greens into the pan. "i should be asking you that." confused, you tilt your head at his answer.
"why won't you let me buy you stuff?" you glance at him, he leans on the counter and continues, "i mean- it's just that you've been holding off buying stuff for yourself for so long. you deserve a little splurging y'know."
mouth gaping like a fish out of water, you shut your mouth and continue to stir the pan.
“now, tell me why my baby doesn’t want me to spoil them?” you deflate at his words, knowing this conversation was about to happen sooner or later. 
aside from wanting to save some money on things you probably don't need part, you grew up with this feeling- having to be ashamed of people spending their money on you, you were determined not to make changbin an exception. accepting help from others growing up meant that there we're feelings of being a bother- feelings of being a waste of time.
years and years of conditioning yourself has lead you into believing whatever mental gymnastics you did inside your head was the absolute truth, no matter how absurd it sounded. maybe your strict upbringing also had a hand in it. that's the way it's always been.
so you explain to him. in all your vulnerability, all the while stirring your hot pan of stir fry.
“but i like doing this for you.” he stresses. changbin moves to rub your shoulder affectionately in an attempt to further reassure you.
biting your lip, “i just feel guilty.” you probably say for the umpteenth time. looking at him, you open your mouth to speak but is immediately cut off, “baby, please." he sighs, and turns off the stove from behind.
"why don't we come up with a compromise?" your buff boyfriend smiles at you. "like what?"
"tell you what, if you let me buy you something you want," he leans incredibly close to you, his breath fanning your face. "you'll get a kiss from me." you blush at his proximity and furrow your eyebrows at him, his grin widening by the minute.
"how is that a compromise?" you say after mulling it over.
"well," he starts, hands trailing and drawing simple shapes on your forearms. "you would get kisses and... and...." you look at him with your eyebrows raised, now very interested in his defense.
"and?"
"ah whatever!" he groans and burrows his reddening face into your neck. you chuckle and run your hands through his black hair, comforting your poor whining binnie.
"please just please let me spoil you!" he throws his hands up in defeat. changbin gives up his argument and grabs both of your hands, making his best pleading face. you can't help but laugh at your boyfriend's ridiculous sudden 180 turn. binnie continues to do his over the top aegyo at you, hoping you would crack.
"o-okay. alright! you win." you reluctantly agree with his constant pleading, his puppy eyes certainly winning you over. you turn to plate the poor neglected stir fry on the pan as he lets go of your hands and hug you from behind.
"but seriously- i'm really, really not bothered. and again, i like doing this for you- correction, i love doing this for you. so please let me?"
"...alright." you grin, already feeling lighter about the whole thing.
"thank you for putting up with me."
"anytime, honey."
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belphies-cowgirl · 1 year
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obey me headcanons pt. 4
word count: 5K+ (oops went a little overboard, hope this doesn't flop though)
Lucifer
he has his records organized alphabetically (Satan & Belphie rearrange them at least once a month) 
he once stood in the kitchen at 3 am cutting up fruits and veggies into pretty designs for his brothers to eat for breakfast (even princess's poison apples in the shape of cats for Satan) but they all assumed you made them and you just agreed while half asleep at the table.
Mammon 
keeps all the notes you take for him in class in a folder hidden in the back of his closet (he never bothered to study half of them) 
shoves hell-sauce-flavored ramen cups under his couch when he doesn't feel like throwing them away. you found them all one time and he was so embarrassed and stuttering so much you thought he was gonna pass out. 
Levi 
dusts his figurines twice a week and has to have his manga lined up neatly in numerical order by series (he WILL hover while you put back one of his mangas that you borrowed)
once fainted when you came into his room cosplaying as one of his favorite characters. poor baby needed a few days to recover after that. but you looked so perfect wearing it and it made his heart explode on sight.
he is crazy talented at digital art, it's a secret hobby of his. you just assume he orders digital prints of your favorite characters off akuzon for you. but he's too shy and embarrassed to tell you he's the one who made them. he thinks you'll reject them if you find out. but it's just another way he shows his love for you, even if you don't know about it. 
Satan 
has cat hair all over his room (obviously) and used-up lint rollers under his bed. he wears a sweater and acts like no one can see all that cat hair.
has specific bookmarks for each genre, but he'll replace some of them with any bookmarks you make/give him. his favorite is the cat bookmark with a bell tied at the end of the string you got him for his birthday (sometimes he shakes the book to hear it jingle)
Asmo 
signs his name in cursive with a little heart after the "o"
sometimes he rubs his nose against yours and then walks away. don't question why, he doesn't need a reason to show you his undying love and affection.
he once shrieked when he found out Beel had accidentally eaten one of his bath bombs. that must explain why Beel sneezed glitter in the common room later that night. 
Beel 
keeps the receipts from all of the places you've both eaten at together.
loves it when you bring home leftover jam/sauce packets for him (he loves the mini-apocalyptic apple ones) 
loves it when you pack extra snacks into his duffle before Fangol games. he'll sit on a bench in the locker room after a game and happily munch on them while blushing. you're so sweet for always doing that, he'll reward you with forehead kisses when he gets back to the HoL.
Belphie 
will surprisingly spend time reorganizing his bed in the attic because he stole more of your plushies and has to make room for them (he picks one to curl up with each week) he refuses to give them back but will pout and whine when you say you want them back. if you try to take one back while he's napping his tail will reach out for it and hide it under the covers.
is a little shit (a brat and a menace but anyways <3) he'll whine when you try to get up from under the covers or if you move too much in your sleep. he'll wrap his tail around your leg or waist to keep you from moving. you went to stand up one time and fell forward because his tail was wrapped tightly around your ankle. he glared at you, scoffed, then rolled over, mumbling about how you're always so noisy and clumsy. 
Diavolo 
used to feed the Little D's. Barbatos found out about it because they kept leaving crumbs behind, and later scolded Diavolo and the Little D's. 
keeps a little figurine you got him as a good luck charm on his desk while he does paperwork. sometimes it distracts him because he'll glance at it and start smiling like an idiot just thinking about you, he always shoots you a text afterward.
Barbatos
listens to metal/rock and I refuse to believe otherwise.
sometimes lets the Little D's listen to music while they attend to their daily duties. they'll end up singing and dancing, but one glance from him and they get back to work immediately. 
Simeon 
leaves cute little notes in your locker or slips them into your textbooks/notebooks for you to find later in class. "good luck on your exam today! :)" or if he's feeling romantic, "you look even more ethereal than usual today <3" he has so much romantic rizz and is completely oblivious about it most of the time. like yeah, you totally just swooned and blushed for no reason.
has really good memory. he'll remember almost anything you say or do, but won't remember anything when it comes to technology. he'll be sitting next to you and randomly bring up the most specific thing that you did two months ago on a Friday. yet he can't remember how to check his call log or change a contact picture (he tries to change yours a lot because he just can't decide which picture to use, they're all so perfect)
Solomon 
drinks tea and coffee out of flasks and beakers sometimes because he's too lazy to wash a few mugs. 
he’s basically “malewife” material, but he does NOT need to be in the kitchen. there's a reason why you carry a mini container of antacids with you. he'll lowkey pout when he notices you keep making excuses for not eating his food. come on, one bite won't hurt, he put so much love into that oozing sandwich that just moved a little bit on the plate.
lets you doodle on his notes during class (he teases you about it every time) he writes around the doodles and will cut them out once he no longer needs the notes. he uses them as bookmarks or keeps them in his little memento box. he's the type to keep movie tickets and polaroids with the date written on the back. he kept a polaroid of you making a surprised face when you realized he was taking a picture of you sitting on his bed wearing a facemask and snacking while scrolling on your D.D.D. 
Luke 
keeps a mini first-aid kit in his backpack. did you get a papercut? he's got a bandaid on standby.
he’ll sometimes leave a sweet treat in your locker for you to eat during lunch (in a tupperware container in case you wanna save it for later) he's so precious and puts so much love into his baking.
hides frosting tubes in his nightstand drawer. will throw them all away in a random trashcan at RAD when he's finished with them. can't have Simeon questioning the sudden pile of frosting tubes in the trashcan, which are coincidentally Luke's favorite flavors.
✄ ——————————————————————
feel free to comment, reblog, shoot me a message, or an ask <3
please do not use my work as your own! 
m.list
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daistea · 2 months
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Hello dais! I’ve been binge reading all of your content recently and first of all I have to say I’m obsessed with all of your writing, it has changed how I look at character from Dungeon Meshi entirely. and second of all, I’ve been thinking about Mithrun with a tall-man reader, or just any short-lived race really and how he would react after they had passed away? I don’t know how you feel about angst really but I’m a sucker for pain and can’t stop thinking about this. Sorry if this seems messy, I’m just thinking too many thoughts about Mithrun right now.
Thank you so much friend!!! Sorry for the late response! This was a good prompt, something close to my heart.
Mithrun x gn, short-lived Reader
tw death, loss, angst
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Mithrun would not do well. 
When he loves, he loves deeply. He wasn’t always so loyal, but after the demon and after working so hard to cultivate desires, Mithrun would attach himself to those he cares about. He isn’t clingy in a traditional sense, but he’s intense. To you, even more so. 
He’d always known it would happen; you started moving slower. You started aging. He didn’t care how you looked. He was aging as well, though at a different rate. Mithrun had never cared for the sentiment of ‘growing old’ with someone. He didn’t understand it, mainly because he truly believed he’d die once the demon was gone. 
Yet, there he was, in his mid-200s. He had you. He couldn’t let you go. When you slowed down, complained of joint pain and laughed at your gray hairs, he’d always brush you off. There was time. There was always time. 
 Awareness did not equal acceptance. Simply because something was a fact of life did not mean it deserved to exist in peace. Most facts of life had negative contexts, but people spoke of them as if they expected Mithrun to be content, to lower his fists, to stop fighting. 
 He knew the day would come. No amount of preparation made it easier. 
 “You’re 252 years old, Captain,” Lycion murmured. 
 Mithrun wasn’t sure what that had to do with anything. He glanced up at the ex-Canary, though the look in Lycion’s eyes immediately made his blood run hot. He forced himself to look away simply to keep from breaking something. 
 “And?”
 “You still have around half your life left,” Lycion continued with that tone that had become all too familiar— insistent, worried, pitying. He should’ve known better than to use it on Mithrun. 
 “And?” “And you still have time to move on.”
 Unacceptable. There was anger, of course, there was always anger swirling within him. But lately, Mithrun had become more sensitive to dread. His stomach churned and sickness crawled up his throat. Move on? As if that was an option. 
The sight of your body haunts him. 
Your skin was cold. Everything was wrong. He couldn’t stop feeling, so much more than he’d felt in ages. All he wanted was for it to stop. When he closed his eyes, he saw you. When he tried to sleep, he heard you. He recalled the lilt of your voice and it refused to leave his brain. Despite how desperately he craved peace, he didn’t want to forget you. He held onto the memories for as long as his imperfect brain would allow. 
Mithrun doesn’t leave his house. 
He only eats because he knows you’d be mad at him if he didn’t. 
He changes nothing about the decor. If you left a sweater on the floor before you died, it will stay there for years. 
Things start changing. If you caught bugs and released them, he’d start doing that as well, despite how he just squished them in the past. If you seasoned food a certain way, he’d do it too, no matter how salty or spicy it is. 
Truly, Mithrun hangs onto every tiny detail of you. He’s never been a detail oriented person, but he knows you. Perhaps now, he knows you better than ever. 
At first, he’ll be doing a chore and, without a second thought, call out for you. He needs your opinion on how to separate this laundry. There’s a sale on veggies he knows you’d be interested in. But right as he says your name, he realizes the truth. You’re not there. He won’t hear your footsteps cross the house, or see your smile as you ask him to repeat himself, or see you roll your eyes at the dumb laundry question. 
It’s a huge change. Mithrun can’t sleep for a bit. His body eventually forces him to sleep. 
He’s lost people before. He’s lost friends, people who helped build Melini. It’s different with you. He isn’t quite sure what to do with himself. 
Mithrun returns to what he did when first regaining his desires— he busies himself with hobbies and work. His universe is falling apart, but he’s getting very good at making noodles. (He’d like you to try them.)
 “I’m not moving on,” Mithrun says. 
 “They were just a—”
 “And you’re just an idiot,” he retorts. 
 Cithis’s jaw sets, tense. She looks at the wall over Mithrun’s shoulder instead, as if looking him in the eye was too tempting, as if she was ready to strangle him. “You know what I mean.”
 He didn’t. He didn’t know much of anything these days. 
 “You’re not usually this concerned,” Mithrun mused as he leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “Bored of your own problems?”
 It was cruel, he had enough wherewithal to know that. Cithis may have lacked general empathy, though she cared about her friends to a certain extent. If only she was better at comfort. If only Mithrun wanted comfort. 
 Her gaze finally shifted to land on him, “You’ll have to start living again at some point.”
It takes Mithrun around 50 years to realize that life continues. Your death felt like the end of a world— in a way, it was the end of a world. He can’t forget you. He won’t ever stop grieving. He’s so angry sometimes because you dared to leave him, even though it wasn’t your fault. 
Yet, Mithrun is an expert at restarting. 
 “I know,” Marcille murmured. Her voice was thick with emotions Mithrun didn’t bother to identify. He simply glanced at her, his good eye wide. 
 “What?” He asked. 
 “I know how it is,” she explained. She had her hands behind her back as she rocked on her heels in an almost childish manner, despite her age. He supposed that for her, the early 100’s was still shockingly young. He’d never understand how a half-elf’s mindset worked. But he knew she’d lost someone. Everyone. 
 “You couldn’t possibly,” Mithrun told her despite how much of a blatant lie his words were. 
 Marcille rolled her eyes. She looked nearly done with him, and he wouldn’t blame her for that. Still, she managed to send him a half-glare, “It gets slightly easier. You’ll still do stuff and think ‘wow, I wish they were here to see this.’ You’ll still crave their company and attention and touch. You’ll still dream of them.”
 He knew that. “What part of this is supposed to be comforting?”
 Marcille scoffed, “I’m not trying to be comforting. I’m just telling you the truth, as someone who's gone through it too. They’re still there, with you. But life gets easier.”
 What a simple phrase. It wasn’t as if everyone in Melini hadn’t already told him that a hundred times over. 
 Mithrun looked away. Marcille grumbled to herself about useless attempts and arrogant Canaries.
 Perhaps he was arrogant. Perhaps he was angry. Perhaps he wanted to sink his fingers into the fabric of the universe and tear it to shreds for daring to take you. 
 But there was no time for that. He had laundry to do.
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the girl next door 5
Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.
Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.
Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.
This lewk but silverfox
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As your mother waits in her chair, watching the window, dolled up in her nicest skirt, with her hair pressed and her eyes lined, you follow the directions on the containers of the premade grocer meals. Roast the potatoes, veggies too, and heat up the chicken. It’s very easy, even for you.
You set the table as the oven warms up and put out the nice plates you never touch. You fold napkins under the cutlery like you’ve seen on television and in restaurants, not that you ever go anywhere by the drive thru. It looks nice. Sort of.
You hear the recliner creak and your mother get up. The doorbell rings and you jump. You rush into the entry way as your mother looms in the front archway. You look at her and she sends back and expression with deadly venom. You go to the door and steady yourself, slowly turning the latch.
You pull it open and muster a smile which must appear closer to a cringe, “hello, uh, hi.”
“Hello,” Steve smiles, a bouquet of sunflowers in his hands. “How are you?”
“Mm, good,” you mumble.
“Great, I brought you ladies some flowers,” he looks between you and your mother as she steps into the hallway. “Something to brighten up the place.”
“Oh my, thank you, Steve,” your mother rushes forward, her left foot thumping a bit heavier than the other, “that is so sweet of you.”
As she snatches the bouquet, a petal flies loose from her tremor. She brings them to her nose, nearly crushing them into her face as her cheek quivers. She’s overexcited and her symptoms more obvious. You step aside as she beckons in your guest.
“You two look nice,” Steve comments as she stops to remove his shoes. His hair is combed tidy back and he wears an oceanic button-up with khakis. He is indiscernible from any other suburban dweller.
“Thank you,” your mother preens and you echo her softly. “Please, come in. I think dinner’s almost ready.”
She glances at you and you nod, “yes, uh, I’ll... go do that.”
You feel Steve watching you. You shrink down and cross your arm over your middle and back away. You turn and shuffle down to the kitchen. You feel how the skirt and sweater let in the breeze around your thighs and reach to tug the hem.
“Grab a vase for the flowers too, honey.”
You let her words trail after you. Honey. The epithet isn’t dripping in her usual poison. You go and open the stove, letting out the aroma of seasoning. It should be almost there.
You search under the sink and find an old mint green vase. You wash it out and fill it with cool water. You bring it out to the dining room and set it on the table. You can hear your mother and Steve in the next room.
She shoves the flowers at you before you can say a word. You take them as she keeps her attention on your guest.
“How’s the house coming along?” She asks in a singsong, “you’ve been doing so much work, I’m surprised you could make the time for us.”
“Of course. Nice to have a few friendly faces around. Not gonna lie though, I do have fridge full of casseroles already.”
You go back to place the stems in the vase. You linger there, safely away from their conversation. You have nothing to add anyway. You’re best to keep an eye on the food.
“Ugh, really? Let me warn you about this place, those bleach blondes aren’t as chipper as they put on,” your mother sneers as you wait for the gravy to simmer.
You don’t think the people around the neighbourhood are bad. They’re just different. Besides, you can’t blame them for their judgment. You might feel the same if you were like them. If you were pretty and perfect and rich.
You hover by the stove and stop the timer before it can buzz. You take out each pan and transfer the contents to thick porcelain serving dishes. You bring them to the table, one at a time.
“Mom, er, Steve?” You peer into the front room, “dinner is ready.”
“Oh, finally, I’m starving,” your mom sighs.
“Smells good. What are we having?” Steve gestures your mom ahead of him, waiting patiently as she moves stiffly. You can see the struggle in the stitch between the brows as how she stops herself from bracing her hip. She’s embarrassed.
“Roast chicken, potatoes, and grilled broccoli,” you explain, watching awkwardly as he pulls out the chair for your mom.
Your mom sits and Steve tucks the chair in. He surprises you as he rounds the table towards you and slides out another chair. You stare at him and your lips part.
“The gravy,” you squeak.
You quickly retreat to the kitchen. You pour the gravy into the spouted dish and balance it by the handle. You carry it carefully through the door and trip on the slightly crooked divider on the floor. The contents slosh and a splatter lands on your white sweater.
You frown and put the grave dish on the table. Steve lingers as he was. You look down at your sweater and he reaches for one of the spare napkins, holding it out to you. You thank him and sit, letting him push the chair in under you. You dab at your sweater but the brown stains remain.
As he sits, just by your mother, she was sure to sit where she would be next to him, you put the crumpled napkin by your plate. Your mother arches her brow at the front of your sweater. You raise your shoulders and give an apologetic look as you slip the cardigan off. You untangle your arms from the fabric and let it droop to the seat.
Steve smiles at you again. Your face is on fire, your chest too. The dress really doesn’t fit right.
“You made all this?” He asks.
“Heh, she bought it and put it in the oven,” your mom tuts. “She’s not the most gifted cook and... and my hands aren’t steady enough for that anymore.”
“Ah, well, food is food,” he shrugs, “regardless, it looks delicious.” He reaches for the plates of chicken and catches the tongs before the can fall, “may I?”
Your mother’s lips curl and she nods, “by all means.”
He puts a piece on her plate, then his own. He sets it back before he grabs the bowl of potatoes and scoops up a heap besides the marinated breast. Finally, he shovels on the broccoli.
You meekly fill your own plate, though you leave it sparse. Just a piece of chicken, a tiny bit of potatoes, and some broccoli. Your stomach is uneasy. You’re not used to company. You poke around with your fork.
“You know, Holly, I finally got all the furniture where I want it but I don’t know,” Steve begins, cutting into his chicken, “I think it needs something... a woman’s touch, maybe?”
“Mmm,” your mother nods and squints.
“I wouldn’t mind picking your brain. Maybe you have some suggestions. I got all these paintings but not really sure where to put them, you know?”
“Right,” she put a sliced potato in her mouth and chews thoughtfully. She swallows and takes her napkin, shakingly blotting around her coloured lips, “well, suppose I could give you a few tips.”
“Really?” He asks, “that would be amazing.”
“Not a problem at all,” she grins, “I could drop by tomorrow.”
“Yeah, that will be nice,” he agrees.
You sit quietly, keeping your face blank. You won’t mention how your mother complained when you tried to hang some of your drawings just in your same room. She always said art was a waste of time. No, you’ll say nothing. You’re better off that way.
“And uh, you’re welcome too,” Steve offers across the table and your eyes flick up to meet his, “if you want. Don’t want to leave you out.”
You glance at your mother. Her eyes narrow and you gulp, nearly choking on the potatoes. You take a breath and push your shoulders up, “actually, I was planning on... uh, I’m busy.”
You can’t even come up with a lie. Not a solid one. Just busy. Busy being alone. Busy hiding.
“Ah, that’s too bad. Well, how about once I get the barbecue fired up, you both come over for a cookout?”
“Lovely,” your mother chimes. “But tomorrow, I’ll swing by,” she squeezes her fork as it tings against the plate. Her tremor is getting bad. “Be nice to get out.”
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lale-txt · 9 months
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❈ 𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐭 𝐰/ 𝐈𝐧𝐨 & 𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐛!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
where you and Ino are stuck due a snow storm and have to stay warm...
a/n: merry Christmas, my dear @mirkaaaluv (´⌣`ʃƪ)♡ i'm sooo excited i get to be your secret santa! you definitely passed the Ino fever onto me, how is he just so [incoherent screeching]? hope you'll enjoy this fic, i had so much fun writing this for you.
contains: ns.fw under the cut, afab!reader (no pronouns used, ‘cunt’ and ‘pussy’ used to describe genitalia), dirty talk, spanking, breath play, overstimulation, praise kink, fingering (reader receiving), creampie, breeding kink (no mention of pregnancy or babies), rough but loving sex, pet names (babe, baby, sweet little thing, darling)
word count: 3.1k
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“See? A small fire and this place feels super cozy already. Imagine a little winter vacation getaway, just you and me–” “–and the hundred curses hiding outside within the temple, waiting to be exorcized…” “Babe, please… I’m trying to be romantic here…”
You can’t help but giggle when Ino takes you in his arms and kisses the bridge of your nose, rubbing your back to warm you up. He had managed to light up the old stove with some firewood, old newspapers and a pack of matches that you found within the abandoned hut. Now the crackling sound of burning wood filled the room, paired with the relentless howling of the snow storm outside. It was a miracle that you found this place during your mission, caught by surprise from the sudden snow. Judging from the simple but clean interior, someone associated with the uninhabited temple you were supposed to cleanse of curses has lived here before. 
Now it is your safe haven in the midst of a storm. While the weather forecast didn’t look good, neither of you would have expected to get snowed in, but here you are. And still, you couldn’t even be mad about it–being stuck with Ino in the middle of nowhere wasn’t too bad, considering your occupation as sorcerers often didn’t leave you with much free time to spend together as a couple. Maybe the stars had aligned to grant you some time together, or how Ino said: A little winter vacation getaway. 
Your partner seems to be all fired up about the situation you found yourself in, his protective instincts kicking into gear. He scurries around the hut, opening drawers and cabinets and gathering everything that could be useful in a pile; from blankets to an old kettle, he even found some dried tea leaves and pickled veggies (that would go along perfectly with the bread rolls Nanami had gifted you and Ino prior to your mission, a small souvenir from his latest bakery discovery). He also drags the mattress from the other room over, putting it in front of the stove from where you watched him with a small smirk curving up your lips. Within a few minutes the room already looked much cozier than before. 
“We should probably get out of these wet clothes or else we’ll catch a cold,” you point out and Ino nods, a hint of mischief on his face before he peels out of his jacket and his black sweater, hanging both over a chair to dry. Both of you strip down to your underwear (not without a little peeking), then Ino is the first to sit down on the mattress, grabbing the biggest blanket and patting his thigh for you to sit on. You don’t hesitate at all, craving all the warmth you can get. When you crawl into his arms, you’re welcomed with lots and lots of kisses on your face down to the side of your neck, before you settle down comfortably with your back against Ino’s chest, letting him wrap the blanket around you both. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, taking deep inhales of the scent of his favorite person in the whole world. 
A comfortable silence falls between you two, and for a while you just sit there holding each other, watching the fire in the stove almost mesmerized, and listening to the sounds of the storm outside. Snow is already piling up on the windowsill while the sun is long gone, but you’re not afraid; you could never while being in these arms. 
“I love you so,” Ino eventually mumbles against your skin before kissing your shoulder and hugging you a bit closer to him. He cups your hands with his, noticing how they were still not fully warmed up yet. He rubs them a little and places a few kisses on your fingertips. “Should I go find another blanket for you? Or make some tea?”
You shake your head and rest your head against his shoulder, looking up at him with a small smile. “Nah, I’m fine. Let’s just stay like this for a little longer. I already feel much warmer.”
Ino looks like he is about to protest, but then he opts to kiss you instead. He is gentle at first, his lips softly brushing against yours, but he is quick to pick up your subtle cues and kisses you harder, one hand coming to your chin while his tongue finds yours. His arm wraps a little tighter around your middle, pulling you closer to him, till there’s not even an inch left between your bare bodies. You can tell from his breathing that Ino is feeling the same rising heat from within as you do. 
A quiet growl comes from his throat when you arch your back a little, grinding your ass against his boxers from where his cock was throbbing already, and it takes him every ounce of self-restraint to not just pull the fabric aside and sink you down on his length. Instead he makes sure you’re nestled tightly with your back against his chest, the hand on your chin wandering down slowly to your throat while his other reaches for your thighs, spreading them open till your legs are hooked over his knees. The blanket hides the damp patch in your panties that would otherwise be on full display, but by now Ino doesn’t need to see to know how aroused you are; your sweet little sounds and your squirming tell him everything he needs to know. 
“Wet already? My sweet little thing is so eager for me, hm?” he hums in your ear when running his knuckles between your clothed folds, the fabric sticking to them. You whine a little, hungry for more of his touch, and he squeezes his fingers around your throat a bit tighter, not too much but enough to remind you of the position you’re in. “Tell me what you want, baby…”
Not giving you any time to respond, Ino’s big hand cups your cunt, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest when he feels you buck your hips against him. He starts to massage your folds a little, a thumb brushing over your sensitive clit and making your legs tremble, a finger hooked under the crotch of your panties and pulling them up. He always loves to tease you like that, your reactions making him hungry to devour you. 
“Wanna cum on your cock,” you mumble in his ear, kissing every inch of him you can reach. His scent was so familiar, so warm, and a little intoxicating; you just couldn’t get enough of him, ever. “Wanna feel you all the way inside my tummy…” 
“Oh, yeah? Gonna be so good for me, baby? Gonna let me stuff that pretty little cunt of yours?”, Ino asks, his voice low and husky. He’s planning on fucking you against every flat surface in this hut anyway, but he loves it when you use your words to say what you want. He can never get enough of the yearning and the desire in your voice, a melody for his ears only. Patience was never his strong suit though, not when you’re both so riled up, so it’s no surprise when he slides your panties down to your ankles and dips one finger into your wetness. 
Your head falls back against his shoulder when Ino adds a second finger, then a third when he feels how your walls flutter around him. His breath is hot and heavy on your skin while he makes you fall apart in his arms, whispering needy words close to your ear. His hand around your throat squeezes tighter every time you clench down on his slender fingers, rubbing that sweet spot that pushes you over the edge so easily. You start feeling a little lightheaded, your whole body tingling. 
“Cum for me, baby… need you all nice and loose so you can take me, okay?”, Ino mutters, pressing his fingers deeper into your heat. You’re dripping by now, your juices running down his wrist while you swallow him so greedily, close, so close–
Ino lets go of your throat once you gush around him, muffling your mewls and whimpers with a deep kiss that takes your breath away. He keeps teasing your clit throughout your orgasm, the overstimulation making you squirm, but you’re still nestled so tightly against him, there’s no escape. Ino can never get enough of the way you look when you’re wrecked with pleasure, but he’s no bully so he lets you breathe for a moment and slides his fingers out to bring them to his lips. 
“I love how you taste,” he moans quietly against your ear, relishing the sticky mess you’ve made. Ino kisses you again and lets you savor your own juices. “So sweet. So delicious. Tastes like heaven to me.” 
He nibbles on your ear and holds you tight in his arms until your heart rate slows down a bit. The whole time his aching cock is pressed against the small of your back, throbbing and desperate to be touched.
When you finally feel the strength in your limbs returning, you sit up slightly, the blanket falling down your shoulders and revealing your bare form. Ino’s eyes never leave your silhouette, he’s taking you in and admiring the shape of you with the eyes of a love drunk man. 
“Fuck me.” 
Your voice is barely a whisper, a little husky even. Dripping with desire. Ino pulls down his boxers and his cock springs free, resting heavy against his stomach. The pink tip is oozing with precum, he can barely hold back anymore. He starts stroking himself slowly while you get on all fours, facing the stove and presenting him your backside. You lower your upper body to the ground, your ass up in the air, spreading your folds with two fingers wide open for him. Ino lets out a shaky breath at the sight of yours, but he doesn’t dare to touch you yet.
“Please… need your cock. Need you inside. Fuck me, Ino, darling, please, fuck me…”
Your sweet please make your lover’s resistance crumble. Ino gets behind you, one hand on your ass to spread it apart even wider for a better view. The light of the fire dips him into warm shades of gold, and his hungry gaze lingers on you. You let out a needy mewl when he rubs just the tip against your cunt, almost making you jolt from being so sensitive still. You whine out his name and arch your back more to push yourself onto him, but he keeps you in place, his fingers digging deeply into your flesh. Ino breathes heavily, and then his hand comes down for a sharp smack, quickly soothed by more kneading. 
“You’re dripping,” he mutters and teases your clit with the tip of his cock, charming out sweet moans from your throat with every move. “Tell me again what you want, baby, c’mon…”
“Need your cock, please, please, just fuck me already–”, you whimper, and cry out loud when another smack lands on your ass, the other side this time. The sharp pain burns so good, and this time Ino comes down to kiss the spot where a faint red mark blooms. Oh, how badly Ino wants to bury his face in your cunt, and lick and spit and suck till you choke on his name on your tongue, but for now he has other plans.
With one swift movement he grabs you by the hips and spins you around, letting out a small growl now that you’re under him. Ino leans down, one hand grabbing your wrists and pinning them down above your head, while his lips find yours again, kissing you feverishly. His cock rests heavy and twitching on your stomach now, as if to demonstrate you how deep he’s gonna nestle inside of you.
“Wanna see your pretty face when you cream around my cock, baby,” Ino sighs and looks at you like you’re magic; pure adoration and desire. It sends warm shivers throughout your whole body and makes your pussy throb, feeling empty ever since his fingers slid out. He lets go of your wrists to grab your legs and put them over his shoulders, making sure you’re comfortable while being spread wide open for him. Ino kisses the insides of your thighs, a few light bites in between, and groans when your hands come to his cock, giving it a few strokes before raising your hips slightly for him to slide in. By now your mind is blank, desiring nothing but to be stuffed to the brim.
The air is knocked out of lungs when Ino finally pushes his cock inside in one swift movement. You’re so wet and your walls swallow him greedily, fluttering around him as you let out a sigh of relief, the biggest smile curling upon your lips when he starts rutting like an animal, setting a merciless pace from the very beginning. While he first held your legs in place, Ino now puts his hands down on the mattress next to your head, basically folding you in half while he keeps on pounding into you. 
“Fuck, you’re so tight, baby, feels so good, so pretty for me…” Ino growls and brushes a strand of hair out of your face to get a better look at your blissfully fucked out expression, your eyes rolling in the back of your head with every thrust of his. Your sweet moans and whimpers are louder than the snow storm outside and awake something feral within him; all he can think about is how badly he wants to breed you, how he wants to stuff you so full of his cum till it’s dripping out of your throbbing core, how he needs to fill you up till you remember his shape forever.
“Close… ‘m so close…”, you mewl, that familiar knot in your core once again dancing on the edge of snapping. You’re melting underneath him, your vision getting a little blurry when you rest one hand on your tummy and feel his cock stretching you out so deliciously. The words falling out of your mouth are drowned out in needy moans and whimpers. “Gonna cum… wanna cum with you, Ino… love you, gonna cum, gonna…” 
Ino lets out an airy laugh, not mocking but so full of love, overwhelmed by his own emotions. He leans down to kiss you again, and to push his cock a little bit deeper inside of you as well until he’s fully bottomed out in your aching cunt. 
“I love you. Love you so much, baby,” he babbles, his hips stuttering by now while he also chases his high, his thrusts getting harsh and sloppy. “Sweet thing… taking me so well… gonna let me fill you up, yeah? Want my cum? I love you. I love you. Fuck, you’re squeezing me, baby, feels good, feels so good… I love your pussy so much… love you. Mine, all mine… ‘m gonna…” 
Your legs slide down from his shoulders and wrap around his waist, pulling him even closer to you, as if he wasn’t already bottomed out in your core, seconds away from falling apart. He moans into your open mouth and after one more brutish thrust you feel waves of pleasure rush throughout your limbs, a numbing and tingling sensation exploding within you. You cum so hard, it makes Ino take a sharp breath and whimper as your cunt milks him, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck when he cums shortly after you, spilling his hot load inside. 
While your orgasm seems to last forever, neither Ino nor you make an attempt to move or pull apart, content in your tiny universe. The only sounds are your heavy breathing, your hammering heartbeat and the crackling of the fire wood. Ino still keeps on mumbling words of praise and adoration against your skin, until you muffle them with a kiss on his lips which he returns with equal passion. 
You trace the scar on his forehead gently with your fingers while gazing into his eyes. They were a bit glazy, with the reflection of the flames dancing in them. Ino leans more into your touch, kissing the palm of your hand and down to your wrist. He doesn’t pull out, not yet, feasting on the feeling of you pulsating around his cock; his load and your juices slowly dripping down from where you’re connected. 
“You’re not cold anymore, are you? I warmed you up really good?”, he asks with a grin and gently bites down on one of your fingers. His eyes sparkle with mischief. You let out a small chuckle. Sometimes he reminds you of a puppy, chewing on everything he could get a hold on, and so eager to get praised.
“Mmm, I’m not sure,” you think out loud and watch his eyebrows twitch in irritation. You laugh again and cup his chin with your hand, pressing another kiss on his lips. “I’ve heard it’s important to keep moving if you want to stay warm…” 
Ino huffs and rolls his hips in response, twitching inside of you, getting hard again. He is so easy to tease, it’s adorable. His hands come down to your hips, and suddenly in one swift motion you’re lying flat on your stomach again, with Ino bottoming out inside of you. Being manhandled like this, plus the new angle, make you moan out loud and tremble from pleasure and overstimulation, and Ino clicks his tongue at your poor attempt to crawl away.
“Oh, I can keep you warm, my sweet,” he whispers close to your ear, pinning you down against the mattress. He lets out a small hushed moan when you arch your back further for him. “Will you be good and return the favor? Gonna let me keep my cock in your pretty pussy? You’re clenching so hard around me, baby, it’s like you never wanna let me go…”
There’s truth in his words, and that night, you definitely don’t let go; and when the sun rises again and the snow starts melting, nothing but love lies on the tip of your tongue, getting swallowed greedily by the one who has your whole heart.
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