#}{ Drabble }{

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Smau about them having a crush on the local barista and they got her number and Idk?? YK WHAT I MEAN

(Asking for a friend ofc)

I know we only met, but let’s pretend it’s love!

Tags: JJK men x fem!Reader, reader is a barista, pre-relationship, smau, fluff, cursing, suggestive language.

An: omg hiiii nepobaby :) let this makeup for the angst i posted earlier

Pt. 1 - Satoru, Suguru, Nanami, Choso, Toji, Sukuna

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Maybe Dante dad when he gets up in the middle of the night to handle the baby so that way his love can rest?

A/n: DAD!DANTE! I picked the Dante from the anime, if you want the game Dante let me know.

It was the soft cry that had broken the stillness of the night small, but enough to stir the quiet, enough to wake Dante. You shift slightly beneath the covers, half-aware, your body attuned to the sound even in sleep. But before the weight of responsibility can fully settle on you, a warm presence moves beside you.

Dante’s already pushing the blanket off, slow and deliberate, trying not to jostle the bed or wake you further. You catch the low sound of his voice—just a breath of words, more vibration than speech. Maybe a curse. Maybe a promise. But definitely tired.

Still, he goes. Because he is a dad now and thats what dads do.

He pads barefoot across the room, broad shoulders tense from the day’s weight, hair tousled from sleep. The floor creaks under him, a small complaint, but he doesn’t pause. The baby’s cry gets a little louder, more insistent, and Dante’s already there before it can peak into distress.

He scoops the baby up with a practiced ease, one big hand cradling the tiny head, the other supporting a body no heavier than a bundle of blankets. The child settles instantly, as if even this early in life, they know the feeling of safety when it’s near.

“Yeah, I got you,” Dante mutters, voice a rasp of sleep and tenderness. “Shhh. Let’s not wake your mama, huh?”

He starts pacing, slow rhythmic steps across the room, bouncing gently, his frame barely moving under the weight of the child. You hear him humming—soft, tuneless, something familiar and half-forgotten. It’s the kind of sound he only makes in the dark, when no one’s supposed to be listening.

Sometimes he talks to the baby—low, gravel-thick murmurs about nothing and everything. About how tired he is. About how small they are. About how, despite all this, he wouldn’t trade it.

“Could be sleepin’ right now,” he says, not to complain, but like it’s a fact he’s weighed and discarded. “But then your mom would get up, and we both know she needs it more than me.” He looks down at the bundle in his arms, so small, so adorable and so very you.

Dante rocks, hums, whispers. A guardian of the night. Rough hands holding fragile things with impossible care. The baby cooing up at him, tuffs of white hair peaking through the blanket as the little one starts to close their eyes.

Eventually, when the baby’s breaths turn steady and soft, he lowers them back into the bassinet. One last check. A light touch on the blanket. And then, with that same deliberate silence, he crawls back into bed beside you.

His body is warm, heavy with exhaustion, but he finds you in the dark and presses a kiss to your shoulder.

"Is she okay?" You muttered, sleep laced voice.

“Asleep and still adorable” he whispers. "Just like you should be." He muttered pulling you in close. This was perfect.

[tokoyamisstuff]

Invincible Variants x Pregnant! Reader

Request from Ao3: I would love to seriously see how the evil Marks would react to getting reader pregnant. There has to happen at least at one point! I can totally see them all collectively freaking out! I seriously hope there is one that goes "Our baby needs a bed fit for a Princess/Prince...you know what, let's just build them their very own castle! Fill it full of toys! Make it a castle playroom!"

...you don't really think this was an accident, do you?

Omni-Mark has been planning to babytrap you since day one. He's prepared every detail of this kid's life way before you were even expecting, from the place you'll give birth until the day their powers kick in everything is carefully thought through.

That doesn't mean he'll completely disregard your wishes, though the crucial decisions are set by himself. But he'd love to prepare the nursery according to your taste and wouldn't mind picking out names together either.

Just because he's overly composed on the outside doesn't mean he isn't secretly overjoyed, he's just bad at showing it.

After the initial shock Mohawk Mark is absolutely delighted. Never thought about the possibility before, but if it's with you, he's so ready to be a dad!

One might think his erratic and almost childish nature indicates he's not cut out to be a father, but he pulls himself together the second he hears the news. Gets advice from the few people he trusts on how to parent in general, but will mostly just wait and see.

Maybe that's a good thing, he'll keep you from overthinking too much with his silly behavior, but he also reminds you that you're in this together and you'll figure it out no matter what.

Buys all the toys. Seriously, this guy will be the greatest playmate for your kid, it'll be incredibly heartwarming to see him tend to his little buddy. He's really trying, give him credit.

Sinister Mark is utterly appaled. This is a literal nightmare scenario to him.

He is insane, but self-aware - and honestly, he's sure the last person who should have children. Not to mention, what if it turns out like him?!

His reluctance mostly stems from his antisocial personality. It was hard enough for him to accept this weakness that is his love for you, but letting another person into his rotten heart seems like an impossible task.

Can't bring himself to leave you, but throughout the whole ordeal he'll nag that this is a horrible idea and you both will have to suffer the consequences (when in reality he is just anxious to fuck everything up). Refuses to look at ultrasounds or involve himself in any planning, but is always vigilant about your well-being and makes sure you got everything you need.

As soon as he is persuaded unto holding it for the first time though, he's completely changed. "I only knew them for a day but if anything happens to them I'll kill anyone here and then myself" kinda way.

Hopefully they take after you, since you're the only person he could ever tolerate.

...of course you are? That's what you're supposed to do: give Target Invincible an heir.

Orders his subordinates into providing the literally best care in the entire universe for you and the unborn, and fulfills your every wish throughout your circumstance.

He's very thoughtful to the point of being controlling. You'll have a strict schedule, excercise and meal plan to stick to if you want to grant him peace of mind.

During this whole time he'll be unusual compliant and gentle, not once raising his voice or criticize you to spare you two any stress. Instead he showers you in praise for granting him this greatest wish of starting a family with someone he deemed worthy to carry his children.

Thats the first time you see No-Goggles Invincible serious. No laughter, no snarky remark, he just stares at you like a deer in the headlights.

Starting a family was never really on his mind, after all it was already out of character for him to stay in a - more or less - serious relationship with you. But hey, as random as he can be, he quickly grows fond of to the idea and adapts surprisingly well.

Keeps his cool for the most part and doesn't really seem to take this seriously. Finds it absolutely hilarious if you yell at him in your hormonal state and may even let you use him as a punching bag before shutting you up with a kiss.

He also really enjoys putting an ear on your belly to talk with his little one, and this continues even after birth. Poor baby never has a moment of quiet.

Due to his mission to repopulate his kind, having children with you has always been on Viltrumite Mark's To-Do list. It's a little early, but he ain't complaining.

From the very moment that he finds out about the pregnancy, you're not allowed to lift a single finger. Prepare to get coddled relentlessly.

Get's super clingy during the process, his hands are on your belly 24/7 even long before you start showing. In general his mood shifted, barely noticeable through his stoic nature but you know him well enough to know he is definetly excited.

This certainly won't stay your only child.

Viltrumite Mark is not surprised. This guy has the biggest breeding kink ever, and he always knew you were the one for him, so...no use for protection.

He's got a huge community of loyal followers who got experience and are willing to help out with anything, but otherwise he's more the easygoing kinda guy. Is convinced a loving environment is all a baby needs and anything else you'd just take as it comes.

Literally worships you even more than usual. Indulges you by getting you any craving from earth, gives you as many back and foot rubs you want, carries your belly if it gets too heavy...

Just can't wait to meet his mini me and take them out on adventures!

To Unmasked Mark you're all that matters, so he will go with whatever choice you make.

It's already hard enough to see you - his heart - walk outside of his body, but another person he will most likely love to death, so small and even more vulnerable? A frightening thought.

Being a man with countless enemies, he feels like good things only happen to him so they can be taken away again as punishment for his sins. Really, he doesn't think he deserves such a blessing after all the evil he's committed in the past.

In the end this is only one more reason for him to keep living and strive to become a better man - and hopefully a father your child deserves.

Fully Masked Mark seriously doesn't know whether to be thrilled or terrified.

After all, pregnancy can be a great burden on your health and in some cases even lethal! He'll frequently spiral into absolute horror scenarios of how this could end up, so you need to help him focus on positive anticipation instead.

But aside from his usual worries this is a dream come true! Being reunited with the love of his life was already a miracle itself, and now he even gets to start a family with you?! He's just so unbelievably thankful that you're doing this with him, and constantly reminds you how he would do anything for the two of you.

Begs you to name it after his mom shall it become a girl.

It takes two to achieve this, but you'll never hear the end of it with Veiled Invincible.

Won't stop nagging about not being cut out to change diapers or missing the patience to endure a screaming kid day and night. He's got a point, dude barely can take care of himself, all he knows is fighting and having a good time.

Reality only sets in when he hears the child's heartbeat for the first time, and damn this guy cries like a kicked dog. You've seriously never seen him like this before. Hard shell soft core or so they say...

Childbirth really shifted his whole perception of how much you mean to him, he absolutely panicked seeing you suffer like this and not being bale to do anything about it.

Will thank you eternally for for convincing him to the best decision of his life and swear that despite of his many shortcomings, he will always keep you two safe and happy.

[secretlyazombi3]

thinking about crying into older! leon's shoulder. your tears wet his shirt, but he doesn't mind, all he's focused on is comforting you. he's too busy trying to make you feel better to care about something like that.

"shhh, you're okay, baby." leon whispers into your ear as you continue to cry in his lap, his big hand gently caressing your back as he tries soothing you.

he's not a man that's very good with helping others with their emotions. but he'd be damned if he didn't at least try.

his hand moved towards your hair; he gently brushed his fingers through your hair as he gently shushed you. "it's okay, love." he assured you again.

he played with your hair, which definitely helped you stop being so tense. his free hand moved to your cheek as he made you look up at him.

your eyes were pink and puffy, nose dripping, mascara running down your cheeks. you felt pathetic. leon still thought you were pretty.

"you feel better?" he asked you as he rubbed his thumb against your cheek, wiping away a tear. your breathing was still labored and occasionally you'd still sob, but you did feel better.

leon wrapped his muscular arm around your body to pull you closer to him. you nodded your head gently. "that's good, baby," leon replied, his voice gruff but his tone still gentle with you.

"everything's okay, pretty baby." leon assured you as he hugged you closer against him. his arms trap your body against his. he rests his head on your shoulder and his stubble itches you slightly.

everything really was okay now. being comforted by an older man was all you needed.

[buckysslut]

𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞

[part one, this can be read as a standalone though]

Since Bucky had discovered your ability to squirt an hour ago, he’d made you cum 4 more times, squirting twice more. Each time he’d get you to cum but you wouldn’t squirt, he’d give a small little huff and go straight back to it. You now felt like a wet noodle, hole aching and feeling incredibly sore. You were limp against the sheets, everything feeling hazy. You feel a soft touch of fingers in your cheek, your eyes flitting open. You struggle to open them but focus them on Bucky’s face, all puppy-like and worried.

“Are you okay..? How are you feeling?” He murmurs quietly. You just whine lazily, trying to close your eyes to protect them from the light. “C’mon sugar.. talk to me..” He murmurs softly. You just mumble a quiet, “Tired..” as you rest back on the pillow. “Let’s clean you up, huh, toots?” He murmurs softly, covering you with a blanket and dimming the lights. He grabs a warm and damp cloth, beginning to wipe you off as he gently spreads your legs. You whine, trying to squirm. “Sh, sh, sh.. I know, I know.. You’re okay.. I’ve got ya’..” He mumbles softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your thigh. “Done so well for me, sugar..”

@nosebleedsinthesheets , @chrisevansleftnipple , @homiesexual-or-homosexual , @httpsells

[nappingnai]

guys dont like me...

..cuz their girlfriends do !

a/n: this came to me while listening to a "you're mark graysons gf" playlist and this song came on. this was so lazy im sorry its so ass. i'll write something of him and reader/you getting together in the near future and link it

not beta read

* mark grayson who, the moment he walks in a room, has half of the girls eyes on him.

* mark grayson who could wear the most basic outfit, a black shirt and grey sweatpants, and have a majority of the school stare at him as he walks down the halls.

* mark grayson who may have the interest of almost every girl and some guys, but has his eyes set on you.

he walks into a class, one of the only he shares with you, and hums awkwardly as majority of the class stares and watches as he apologizes to the teacher, shuffling over to his seat silently and unzipping his backpack as slow and quiet as possible, taking his notebook out and setting it on the desk. mark tries to pay attention, he does, but it's hard when you're a desk infront of him to the right, and all he can focus on is how the sunlight hits your face through the window and how gorgeous you look.

* mark grayson who gets called a heartbreaker by some of the girls at school. all he did was reject them kindly, how did he earn the nickname?

* mark grayson who wonders why some of the guys look at him sideways when he passes by. it's not his fault their girlfriends like him more!

* mark grayson who, once he finally gets with you, shows you off to the entire school. walks you to class, brings you to school and home, and is constantly seen with you.

* mark grayson who deals with anybody giving you problems, saying you don't deserve him or he deserves better.

* mark grayson who is secretly a huge nerd and softy, but only around you.

"mark.." you say with a sigh, staring down at him as he flips through the new limited edition seance dog comic, laying inbetween your legs and resting his chin on your stomach, propping the comic on your breasts. he glances up at you, moving the comic a bit lower to stare up at you with those brown puppy eyes. mark tilts his head, letting out a questioning hum as you internally melt, shaking your head and letting him continue the comic.

a/n: hi im back posting invincible yes [insert head banging noises] its 12;33am ahen i post this im so tired i hope yall enjoy❤️❤️❤️❤️

[gildedwillow]

you don’t get to come ‘til you fuck yourself dumb on it - melissa schemmenti - 18+

.

she makes you ride her hands-free—just your hips working to take all of her, over and over again. every bounce makes the water splash, your tits bobbing in her face while she licks and sucks your nipples raw. “look at you,” she growls, grip bruising on your thighs. “stuffed full and desperate. Is that all you’re good for, huh? taking cock like a dumb little slut?”

.

melissa schemmenti x fem!reader

You’re already soaking by the time you straddle her lap, hot tub water sloshing around your waist, and Melissa’s just sitting there like she owns the place—hell, owns you. That smug fucking smirk on her lips, red hair pulled up, tanned skin glistening, tits practically spilling out of a tiny black bikini top. Her eyes are locked between your legs, hungry.

And underneath the surface, you feel it—her strap, thick and hard, bumping up against your pussy, just waiting for you to sink down on it.

She raises a brow. “You gonna sit on it, or you need help like the needy little bitch I know you are?”

Your pussy clenches, already slick and aching. You reach down under the water, guiding the thick silicone head between your folds, and the second it nudges your entrance, you whimper. You're already so wet it slides in almost too easy—stretching you, thick and deep, dragging against every nerve-ending inside you until you bottom out with a desperate moan.

“Fuck,” you breathe, hands on her shoulders.

But Melissa slaps them off. “Nah. No hands. You ride it all by yourself. Show me how bad you need it.”

You bite your lip, already shaking. That strap is big—long and girthy, curved just right to hit that spot over and over—but it���s the base of it grinding against your clit while you ride that sends you reeling. You start moving, slow at first, hips circling, grinding down on her. Your pussy’s gripping it tight, walls fluttering, so full you can barely think.

“Look at that tight fuckin’ cunt,” Melissa growls, watching your tits bounce as you ride her. “So greedy for cock. You hear that?”

Slap, slap, slap—your soaked pussy smacking against her hips, water sloshing hard with every bounce, spilling over the edge of the tub.

“Yeah, you fuckin’ hear it. That wet little pussy loves me.”

You nod, jaw slack, riding faster now, ass bouncing on her lap as you fuck yourself dumb. She’s not even helping—just letting you take all of it on your own, hands behind her head like she’s enjoying the fuckin’ show. And she is.

And then she moans. Deep, low, throatier than you expected.

You blink, panting. “Are—are you…”

She bites her lip. “Yeah, baby. That harness is rubbin’ my clit just right. Keep bouncin’ like that and I’ll fuckin’ come with you.”

That snaps something in you. You fuck her harder, harder, like you need to make her come now, not just for you but for her—need to see her fall apart while you’re split open on her strap.

“Shit, just like that—ride it, baby. Fuck—grind that sloppy cunt on me, I wanna feel you squeeze.”

You're both a mess. Your pussy’s soaked, stretched around the strap, dripping down to the base and mixing with the hot tub water. Her hips start thrusting up to meet yours, chasing that pressure as the harness grinds her clit raw. Water’s crashing over the edge with every move now, the sound of your pussy squelching around the strap obscene, wet and filthy.

You grab the edge of the tub just to keep from collapsing.

“Fuckfuckfuck—Mel—”

“Yeah, come on, baby—come on that cock, show me how good this fuckin’ strap ruins you—”

You scream when it hits. Whole body going stiff, legs locking, pussy pulsing so hard around the strap it almost knocks the air outta you. Melissa’s hands slam down on your hips, dragging you down hard onto her cock just as she gasps and shudders, her thighs clenching.

“Fuuuck—yeah, yeah—fuckin’ comin’ too, baby, fuck—”

You grind through it together, gasping, whimpering, cumming so hard the water damn near boils. She holds you tight, her strap still buried deep inside your wrecked pussy while your cunt spasms around it, milking it like it’s real.

Eventually, you slump forward, forehead on her shoulder, water rippling around you both.

Melissa lets out a breathless laugh. “Hot tub’s the best fuckin’ investment I ever made.”

You can’t even speak. All you can do is whimper as the strap stays stuffed inside you, and her fingers start slowly trailing down to your clit again.

“You didn’t think we were done, did you?”

You're still catching your breath when Melissa grips your hips under the water and growls, “Get the fuck up. Face-down. On the deck. Now.”

You don’t argue. You can’t. Your body’s buzzing, pussy still soaked and twitching around nothing now that she’s pulled the strap out. You scramble up the steps, dripping wet, legs shaking like a baby deer, and flop onto the wooden deck—cheeks flushed, hair a mess, still aching for her.

The air hits your skin like ice, goosebumps racing down your spine, but it doesn’t matter. You're on your hands and knees, thighs spread, ass high, and your pussy’s dripping—glossy and flushed, swollen from the way she fucked you in the tub. You can feel your slick mixing with the water sliding down your thighs, wetting the wood under your knees.

And then you hear it. Her footsteps behind you. Her breathing.

Click. The sound of the harness straps being tightened. Adjusted. Ready.

“Look at this pussy,” she mutters behind you, running her hand between your legs. Her fingers slide through your folds, slow and filthy. “So fuckin’ wet still. All sloppy for me.”

You arch for her, needy and whimpering.

Melissa doesn’t wait.

She slams back inside you in one deep thrust, burying the strap to the hilt, and you scream. Your hands shoot forward, bracing on the slick wood as her cock stretches you open again, filling you like she owns you.

“Fuck—fuck, Mel—”

“Shut up and take it.” Her voice is rough, low, right at your ear as she bends over you, chest to your back, one hand sliding up your throat to hold you still while she fucks you.

Her hips slap into your ass, again and again, water flying off both of you with every brutal thrust. Her strap hits deep, hard, angled just right to smash into your g-spot every time she pounds into you. The sound is obscene—wet, squelching, the smack of skin-on-skin echoing in the night.

Your pussy’s stretched wide, sucking the strap in over and over like you need it, like your body’s begging to be used. Your thighs are shaking, face shoved into the deck, drooling, moaning uncontrollably as she ruts into you like a fucking animal.

Melissa grips your hips tighter. “This what you wanted, huh? To get fucked face-down like a fuckin’ bitch in heat?”

You nod, but it’s pathetic—your face is mashed against the deck, lips parted, eyes rolling.

She spits on your back. Lets it run down your spine. Her hand slips between your legs, finding your clit, soaked and throbbing.

“Oh, you’re gonna come again, baby. I feel this pussy squeezing—she’s fuckin’ choking my cock.”

You sob. Your body jerks with every thrust. Her cock’s slamming into you with no rhythm now—just raw power, her own hips stuttering as the base of the strap grinds into her clit harder, rougher, soaked with your slick from earlier.

She’s panting, fucking into you like she’s chasing her own orgasm. “Fuck—fuck, I’m gonna—oh my god, I’m gonna fucking come—”

You feel her shake. Her hips grind deep, and you hear her moan, real and broken, her orgasm ripping through her as the harness rubs her clit raw, her thighs clenching around you.

And that’s it—you fall over the edge with her.

Your body explodes, pussy clamping down so hard on the strap you see stars. Your vision goes white, whole body tensing, jerking, moaning into the deck like an animal as she fucks you through it.

You’re both a mess. Her cock still buried deep in your spasming pussy, your juices dripping down your thighs onto the deck. Her hand still holding your throat, possessive and gentle all at once.

You whimper, trying to breathe.

Melissa leans down, presses a kiss to your spine. “That’s my good girl.”

You can’t even answer.

You’re drooling on the wood.

And she’s still inside you.

You’re still face-down on the deck, leaking and wrecked, when Melissa finally pulls out with a slow, wet sound that makes your cunt flutter again. The thick strap is coated—your slick clings to the silicone in thick, shiny strands, still warm from your pussy.

She grabs your hair and yanks you up to your knees. “Clean it,” she growls. “Mouth open. Now.”

Your tongue’s out before she finishes the sentence.

She brings the strap to your face, tilting your chin up, and presses the tip against your lips—shiny and messy with your own cum. The taste hits instantly: salty, sweet, yourself—still warm, still soaked. You lick it clean, moaning as your tongue drags over the curve of it, mouth wrapping around the head while she watches.

“Filthy little slut,” Melissa mutters, hand still tangled in your hair. “Look at you. So hungry for your own pussy, you’ll suck it off my cock.”

You choke a little when she pushes it deeper, and she laughs. A warm, rough sound.

When the whole thing’s clean—glistening from your spit—she finally undoes the harness, lets it drop to the deck, and leans back on the edge of the hot tub with a smirk. She spreads her legs wide, her bikini bottoms already pushed aside, her cunt on full display.

And fuck, she’s gorgeous.

Her pussy’s flushed and wet, glistening with her own slick, lips full and puffy from how hard she came earlier—like her clit’s still throbbing, begging for more. She smells so good—that raw, musky sweetness that hits you right in the brain.

“Get in,” she says, nodding to the water.

You slide in, the heat swallowing your body as you move toward her. She’s perched on the edge now, legs open, and you settle between them, hands on her thighs, breath already shaky.

“Taste me,” Melissa says, voice low, almost a threat. “Don’t stop ‘til I’m fuckin’ shaking.”

You don’t waste a second.

Your tongue slides between her folds, licking a fat stripe up her slit, and she moans. Her taste floods your mouth—salty, earthy, hot, with that rich tang of her cum still fresh from earlier. You go slow at first, savoring it, sucking her clit into your mouth and flicking your tongue over it until she’s gasping.

“Fuck—yeah, baby, right there—”

You grip her thighs tighter, then move your hands up to her tits. You tug the bikini top down and start playing with her nipples—pinching and rolling them between your fingers while your mouth works her cunt like it’s your last meal.

She’s dripping down your chin, thighs twitching under your grip. You drag your tongue down to her entrance, fuck her with it, deep and filthy, then suck her clit back into your mouth while your fingers pinch both her nipples at once.

Her whole body jerks.

“Oh fuck—fuck—don’t stop—don’t fucking stop—”

You moan into her, sucking harder, faster, her clit swollen and twitching against your tongue, and that’s when it hits her.

She screams your name—hips snapping forward, cunt grinding against your face as she cums. Hard. Wet. Messy.

Her thighs clamp around your head, and you stay there, licking and sucking through it, her juices flooding your mouth—hot, slippery, and just a little sweet. You swallow every drop, tongue lapping up everything that spills out while your fingers keep tugging on her nipples.

She’s gasping, legs shaking, hand in your hair, holding you there while she rides it out.

When she finally loosens her grip, you pull back, panting, lips and chin soaked in her cum. Her chest is rising and falling, tits heaving, her pussy still glistening and twitching.

She looks down at you with that crooked grin.

“Fuckin’ knew you’d be good at that,” she murmurs. “Get back up here, sweetheart. I ain’t done with you yet.”

[siddyyyyyyyy]

Past Careers

pairing: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne (seperate) summary: They find about your past career as a dancer. warnings: fem!reader, slightly suggestive theme, (fluff), no y/n used a/n: sorry about my inactiveness again, my apartment almost burned down last night, but at least i got two weeks off! sorry about any errors, enjoy!

⁛ DICK GRAYSON

It was a total accident. He trusts you as a teammate and coworker in the vigilante field, but something about snooping in your files and digital footprint was so intriguing to him. You tend to keep to yourself most of the time, ignoring his playful remarks, and more or less funny quips. He doesn‘t know much about you, and he won‘t ask personal questions since he should learn to mind his business (that‘s what you told him). Despite his dying need to get to know you better, he won‘t let himself look into your life or vigilante career more closely.

Still, that‘s clearly not what happened this night at patrol. Once he got his hands on his device, he couldn‘t help himself and searched you up. Or rather, your files and somehow got his hands on your birth certificate, which made him learn your real name.

Without further waiting and a lot of guilty doubts, he searched and looked up stuff with your real name. Dick found himself a comfortablel spot by a fire escape, sitting at on of the stairs witha his tablet in his hands. The bright screen illuminated his face, his eyes intently studying the images before him, under his mask. His eyebrows shot up once he discovers a video, the caption being ‘Dirty Dancing in [ ] Club. Fire Show!‘. Of course he had to click on it, even if it was a possible scam, or something completely unrelated to you.

A typical jazz tune comes form the small speakers of his tablet, the camera being directed at the stage. The lights are low, creating a cozy atmosphere around the supposed club.

The spotlight focuses on the woman stepping on the stage, her steps confident, yet secretive. Her steps are in sync to the Jazz band, as she slowly removes her fluffy coat, teasing the crowd with her movements. Even Dick has to shift on the fireescape, keeping his attention to the video.

There‘s no way this is his actual coworker, who he sees almost every night on patrol. Clearing his throat, he continues to thoroughly study the video.

The dancer surprises the crowd once she throws her coat away to the side, the poor speakers of his tablet almost explode as the audience cheers and whistles, making him lower the volume. Now, you pose for the audience, your outfit not just revealing, but also gorgeous. It sparkles in the spotlight, hugging your curves perfectly and leaving little to imagination.

Dick feels his brain short-circuting for a second, having to process what he sees before him.

»I hated that song.«

He flinches, almost throwing his tablet away as he yelps from the sudden voice beside him. You keep your eyes on Nightwing, staying leaned against the railing of the fire escape.

»Oh, hey… fancy seeing you. I was just—« He visibly pauses and looks back down at his tablet before meeting your eyes again. »That‘s you?«

Finally, with a soft sigh, you nod and expect any kind of reaction from him. Either disgust, disappointment, confusion, but definitely not fascination.

He starts to give you a thorough review of your perfomance, although it mostly consists of compliments and questions, such as ‘Why did you never tell me?‘, or ‘How long? Can you tell me more?‘. You were in for a ride.

But he sure knows he found another thing he likes about you, except your skills in combat and ability to keep calm in almost every situation.

⁛ JASON TODD

He wasn‘t one to pry or be curious about ones personal life, especially when it comes to other vigilantes around his area. Sure, he tends to do check ups and make sure nothing is falling apart, but that‘s the most he does. Besides, you are one of the few he trusts the most about work. You both team up on missions, or patrol together regularly, and also have a similar kind of humor. Jason is glad you don‘t ask for more and also tend to be more private about other stuff, besides work.

It‘s not until one evening, he takes up on a usual research about another case, before he stumbles upon suspicious looking files. Surely, a small distraction won‘t hurt. He clicks on it, getting sent to another site with several files, which he soon learns, are personal information about certain vigilantes. He found the source of the current problem, but now he is growing curious as well.

Your vigilante name is on this list, and he wouldn‘t want your identity to be leaked so carelessly. Finally, he clicks on it and finds himself reading through important and sensitive information about you. Your name, address, family— hell, even your career choice before this.

He can‘t help himself, but look through it and eventually check on your past careers. The first few were normal, a waitress, barista, even working at walmart, but ‘professional dancer‘ wasn‘t what he was expecting. Luckily, there are a few videos attached.

Jason‘s hand almost crushes his mouse at the table as he takes in the rather seductive, yet slow movements of your body in that revealing outfit. After a minute in, he pauses the video and stands off his chair to pace a few circles around his room.

Eventually, he sits back on his chair and makes sure to get rid of all these accessible information, protecting your identity and others.

There‘s no way he‘ll approach this subject with you. Unless he is drunk, or completely sleep deprived, which makes his brain and mouth go loose. But surely, none of these will happen soon enough.

⁛ BRUCE WAYNE

He was simply making sure you are a trust worthy person, like he did with every other vigilante he knows and works with. It helped him prevent accidents happen, and keep himself safer that way.

As he reades over your files, he‘s gathered nothing much but your harmless appearance and rather normal life— compared to most others. He didn‘t consider looking into your past careers, until his growing curiousity got the better out of him. The list was rather short, just a couple average jobs most people did at least once in their lifetime, until the last one made him blink a few times.

‘Professional dancer‘?

Sure, it‘s nothing bad, or negative, but it still made him question it more than the others. What kind of dancing did you do? Soon enough, he found some clips of your perfomances across the internet. Some captions were questionable, but he still wanted to take a look at it.

There‘s was the quiet music playing from the speakers, he made sure to keep it low. It looked promising, it didn‘t look cheap, but it didn‘t look too professional either. The stage made it clear that the location was most likely at a bar. Bruce watches, the frown on his face almost faltering once you get on stage and start your perfomance. He shifts ever so lightly in his seat, keeping his eyes on his monitors while you give a rather… suggestive dance. Your moves are graceful and teasing, which make the crowd cheer louder each time you strike a new pose or move.

Alfred clears his throat from further afar, spooking Bruce the slightest bit. He pauses the clip and gets rid of the site, making sure to keep his calm demeanor.

»Master Bruce, I am unsure of… that clip, but I am here to inform you about Mister Freeze‘s new attack.«

Bruce nods his head and gets off his chair, his mind being occupied with everything other than whatever Mister Freeze has planned.

Luckily, he gets his head straight, focusing on his actual duties and makes sure to pointly ignore Alfred‘s questioning about the video. Of course, he will try to make you talk about your past dance career, as well as keep further images out of his mind.

←MASTERLIST

taglist₊‧.°.⋆˚₊‧⋆.

@143637-hrrm @dollyure @ibreathesmut @dreamzaremyrealityy @aceoffates

[noorpersona]

Favourite Positions: Hinata

You didn’t usually date short guys.

It wasn’t personal—just a preference. You liked being manhandled. Liked being tossed around, bent over, pinned. You’d always thought height made that easier. You wanted to be overwhelmed, and you never thought someone with a boyish grin and a 174 cm frame would be the one to do it.

But Hinata Shōyō?

Was a beast.

Not just in the way he moved, though that was devastating enough. He had stamina for days, legs like pistons, arms strong enough to lift you like you weighed nothing. But it was the way he looked at you when he was inside you—like he was starved, like he was built for this. Like your pleasure was his mission.

And when you were underneath him? Flat on your back, legs thrown over his shoulders, Hinata kneeling over you with your ankles hooked behind his neck?

There was no going back.

“I wanna see everything,” he’d whispered the first time, flushed and breathless, the tip of his cock nudging at your entrance. “Wanna see your face when I make you lose it.”

And now?

Now he was fucking you like he meant it.

Your thighs trembled where they rested over his shoulders, calves draped down his back as his hips snapped into yours. His hands were braced beside your head, body bent forward so his chest hovered over yours. The position had you folded nearly in half, stretched wide, completely taken.

“So—tight,” he groaned, jaw clenched as he pounded into you with brutal rhythm, curls damp and clinging to his forehead. “God, you feel… fuck… you feel so good.”

Your back arched off the bed, fingers fisting the sheets, eyes fluttering as pleasure crackled through your nerves.

“Shōyō—too deep, it’s too much—”

“No,” he gasped, snapping his hips harder, “It’s perfect. You can take it. Just hold on, I’ve got you.”

You sobbed as his cock hit that devastating spot inside you over and over, your body clenching, quivering. The position had you stretched and pinned, his body grinding into yours with relentless force. You could feel the headboard banging against the wall, the slap of skin-on-skin loud in the air.

Hinata leaned closer, your knees nearly pressed to your chest, and he grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers together as he fucked you harder.

“I wanna see it,” he panted, eyes fixed on your face. “Come for me. Right now. Let me see how pretty you look when you break.”

And you did.

You shattered with a scream, back arching violently, mouth falling open in a ragged cry as your orgasm slammed through you. Your vision went white, your body seizing under the weight of the pleasure, twitching uncontrollably. You couldn’t even breathe—couldn’t think.

It didn’t stop.

He kept fucking you through it, hips rolling hard and deep, watching you fall apart beneath him like it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Your hands clawed at his arms, thighs trembling wildly, mouth babbling nonsense—you didn’t even realize what you were saying. You were crying. Moaning. Whimpering please and don’t stop in the same breath.

Hinata groaned, deep and broken, and you felt his rhythm falter just slightly before he buried himself deep, grinding his hips hard into yours as he came with a strangled gasp. The warmth of him flooding you only sent another pulse of aftershock through your body, another twitch of oversensitivity that made your breath catch.

He stayed there, chest heaving, forehead resting against yours.

Your chest was heaving, fingers twitching, mind blank except for the echo of your own voice—broken, desperate, high-pitched and gasping his name like it was the only thing you knew how to say.

Your body was still convulsing in little aftershocks when Hinata leaned over you, his breath warm and uneven, and started pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to your skin.

First to your collarbone. Then lower.

His lips trailed down the curve of your breast, lingering over the swell as his hand spread wide over your stomach—grounding you, holding you, but never still.

You jolted when his mouth dipped lower again, his tongue lapping at the sheen of sweat on your ribs, and then his lips brushed just under your navel.

“Shōyō—” you whimpered, voice rasping from overuse, hips twitching.

He smiled against your skin, kissed lower.

“Too much?” he whispered, but didn’t stop. He was everywhere—on your hips, your thighs, your waist, like he needed to taste every part of what he just ruined.

Every place his mouth touched made you flinch, a fresh wave of oversensitivity crawling across your skin. But you didn’t stop him.

You couldn’t.

And neither could he.

By the time he leaned up again, his hands were back on your waist, thumbs stroking soft, absentminded circles against your flushed skin. His eyes were bright, cheeks still a little pink, and his grin—smug, breathless, a little crooked—stole the last of your breath.

“Wanna go again?”

You blinked. And despite the fact that your legs were jelly, your brain scrambled, your body completely wrecked—you still managed to nod.

A slow, wicked grin spread across his face.

Yeah. You didn’t usually date short guys.

But Hinata wasn’t like anyone else.

[millzinterlude]

Okay but what about autistic!Simon Riley bagging a beautiful bombshell of a woman just by simply being weird and abnormal about his interests?? He meets this pretty bird at a pub. You’re sexy in an effortless way, looking him up and down and giving him pretty smiles. He’s a bit aloof, but he also thinks you’re pretty. So when you approach him the first thing that spills out of his mouth is “I have a lot o’ guns inside my house.” It takes you by surprise. You just smile and nod, a little freaked out by it and he takes that as the chance to continue. Even pulls out a knife. “This one ‘ere is Riley. Real special t’me, gets the job done. Quick ‘n easy. Y’wanna hold ‘er?” He sticks a large hand out, offering you his knife. You hold it, letting the weight of it rest in your hands, you give him an awkward smile. He gives you a slight grin, thinking he’s really got you in the bag. So he pulls out his phone, showing you pictures of guns. One in particular being a picture of a L115A3. “‘S a damn good sniper. Ever seen someone get hit bullseye in the head with its bullet? No’ a pretty sight I’ll tell you that much, but she’s a right beaut. Silent and efficient.” He rambles about how he knows to use it and how he can easily take it apart and put it back together again. You have to admit, it’s hot. Watching him rattle on and on about a plethora of guns shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does. So you just smile and nod, actually listening to him and boy does that excite him. He ends up taking you to his flat, holding up and showing you every gun while you throat him and listen <3.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Do opposites really attract?

Tags: JJK men x fem!Reader, angst, hurt no comfort, smau, cursing, suggestive language

Synopsis: The JJK men cheat with someone who is nothing like you.

An: I had a request for something similar to this, but I read it wrong :( I’ll work on that request today, but I’m not going to let these go to waste… so anyway, no nanami because he would never. also so sorry, there’s a typo on toji’s :(

Pt. 1 - Satoru, Suguru, Choso, Toji, Sukuna.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Like Hell, You’re Shy Now || Dante Sparda ||

The old, battered leather of Dante’s chair creaked under him as he leaned back with that usual half-lazy, half-hungry smirk. You stood between his legs, fingers fidgeting at the hem of your oversized shirt — one of his, of course. It swallowed you whole, brushing your bare thighs, the scent of gunpowder and cedarwood clinging to the fabric.

Dante’s red coat hung off the side of the chair, his black undershirt tight across his chest, half unbuttoned from earlier. His eyes never left you, glowing like smoldering embers — waiting, watching, eating you alive without a single touch.

“You gonna keep lookin’ like that,” he murmured, voice low and rough, “or are you gonna climb on and make a mess of me?”

Your breath caught, thighs pressing together. You’d had him before — over desks, against walls, in the damn kitchen once — but this… this was different. Riding him? That meant taking control. That meant all his focus on you. No place to hide.

“I—I don’t know if I can—”

Dante chuckled, the sound dark and rich. He leaned forward slightly, one gloved hand dragging up your thigh, slow and possessive. “Like hell, you’re shy now,” he whispered, voice teasing but tender. “You’ve taken my cock screaming before, sweetheart. What’s this really about?”

You swallowed hard, heat creeping up your neck. “Just… it’s new,” you admitted. “You watching me. All of me.”

His eyes softened for half a second before darkening again, fingers curling around your hip, tugging you gently forward. “Then let me make it easier for you.”

With his help, you climbed onto his lap, straddling him. The friction of your bare heat against his jeans made you gasp, and Dante’s jaw clenched as he felt the wetness through the fabric.

“Shit, baby,” he growled. “You’re soaked already?”

Your cheeks burned, but your hips shifted instinctively, chasing the pressure. He looked like sin itself beneath you — legs spread wide, muscles tense, his expression a mix of reverence and filth.

“Take what you need,” he murmured, voice husky. “I’m not going anywhere.”

With trembling fingers, you reached between you, unzipping him and freeing his cock — thick, hot, and already leaking for you. Dante helped, one hand guiding you as you lined yourself up and sank down, inch by inch.

Your head fell back with a whimper as he filled you, stretch delicious and overwhelming. His hands gripped your hips hard, grounding you, but he let you control the pace. You started slow — the roll of your hips unsteady at first — but his praise poured like gasoline on your nerves.

“That’s it,” he groaned, teeth gritted. “Look at you… fuckin’ perfect. Ridin’ me so good, baby.”

You rocked against him, gradually finding rhythm, the drag of him inside you hitting every nerve. Dante’s head fell back against the chair as he watched you through hooded eyes, pupils blown wide.

“Goddamn, you were made for this,” he grunted. “Made for me.”

The warmth on your cheeks was matched only by the heat pooling deep in your belly. Each bounce sent shocks of pleasure through you, and the way he held your hips tighter, thrusting up just enough to meet you — it pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

“You feel so good, Dante,” you whimpered, nails digging into his shoulders.

“Come for me, angel,” he growled, suddenly snapping his hips up hard. “Wanna feel that pretty pussy squeeze me while you fall apart.”

You shattered, moaning his name as you clenched around him, trembling in his lap. Dante wasn’t far behind — he pulled you down hard and spilled into you with a groan that vibrated through your whole body.

You collapsed against his chest, both of you breathing heavy, skin slick and bodies tangled, legs still shaking as your fingers clutched a fist full of his shirt.

After a moment, he tilted your chin up and kissed you — slow, sweet, reverent.

“Next time,” he murmured against your lips, “you’re takin’ that shirt off first, your beautiful tits out. I want the full view, babe.”

You laughed breathlessly. “You’re insatiable.”

He grinned. “Only for you.”

[awkwardgiraffe726]

At least her spidey senses are tingling… 👀

A special sort of craving 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Summary: A stranger appears at your cafe and leaves you unsettled.

Part of the Backwood AU

Note: I found this in my docs and then I was like this could be an AU and people will hate me but here we are. I am heavily considering adding at least one other character to the AU bc I have an idea I don't think i'll ever get to full length with.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

He doesn’t belong. Not in this sleepy village. You can tell by the ring on his pinky, a golden signet that boasts of wealth not known to the farmers and lumberers of the desolate locale. His cheeks are red as if he didn’t expect the crisp autumn bite, though his jacket is unzipped to his chest, revealing a golf shirt with some designer logo sewn into the collar.

He tilts his head as he considers the glass display with shelves of bite-sized tarts and fragrant pies. You approach the other side, standing on tiptoes to see over it. His eyes slowly rise with your movement, a dimple in his cheek of amusement. You skirt around to the side of the display and lean over the lower counter so he can see you.

“Hello, you looking for something in particular?” you ask.

“Something sweet,” he answers, his crooked grin lingers as he lets his gaze wander back to the pies, “cherry… it’s been a while since I had a nice, juicy cherry pie.”

He licks his lips with the last word, reaching up to brush his fingertips over his bristly mustache. Your smile threatens to falter but you keep it on. He definitely isn’t from around here. Not with his accent or the hair slicked back so neatly.

“You want a slice?” you ask brightly. “Two bucks for a slice, twelve for the whole thing.”

“Hmm?” he raises a brow and sidles over to stand across from you.

“The pie,” you say as he puts a hand on the counter, leaning in as his other rests on his hip, “did you want some?”

His eyes fall down to the top of your apron, the red and white checker distracting him as you mindlessly flick the frill around the skirt. His smirk blooms fully and he stands straight.

“Wouldn’t mind a slice… of the pie,” he says as if it’s some joke. You don’t get it.

“Sure,” you say as you go behind the display and take out the cherry pie. You take it to the metal table behind you as you hear him, sense him looming along the counter. “You want anything to drink, sir? Some milk? Tea? Coffee? We do a combo for three-fifty.”

“Mm-mm-mm, a nice glass of milk would go nice with the pie,” he purrs, “they usually got you working all alone, sweetness?”

You look over your shoulder as you shovel a slice onto a plate, little flowers painted around the waffled trim.

“It’s my shop,” you say as you take the dish and grab a fork from the tray. You place it beside the till and type in the total, “cash or card, sir?”

“You own all this?” he leans his elbows on the counter, bent at the waist as he looks up at you.

“Sir,” you nod. 

“Card,” he stands and stretches his arms over him before he drops his hands, poking his fingers in his back pocket.

“I’ll get that milk,” you say as he swipes his card, “and I’ll bring this over to you if you wanna sit.”

“Ah, table service, I like it,” he says as the machine chirps and accepts his payment, “you country folk are all so… nice, aren’t you?”

“Suppose,” you say as you open the fridge and take out a small carton.

You glance over as he tucks away his wallet. He winks and walks away. He drapes his jacket over the chair by the window as you grab a glass and hurry over to the counter. You place the glass and carton on his table as he sits. You go back to the counter and bring him the pie.

“You visiting someone?” you ask curiously.

He looks at you pointedly. You hesitate. You forget that the city slickers don’t like questions, but everyone in the village knows each other, so your habit has you careless.

“Bought some house called ‘The Grove’,” he answers as he pushes the fork through the braided crust, “apparently it’s a big deal.”

“The Grove?” you can’t help your surprise, “wow.”

He scoffs, hardly amused, and slides the fork into his mouth, sucking off the pie as he watches you. He chews and swallows slowly as he hovers the silver over the oozing pie.

“You know it?”

“It’s pretty far out,” you say, “but yeah, everyone knows The Grove.”

“Sure,” he pokes a cherry so the juice leaks out, “this is good pie. You make all these?”

“It’s my recipe, but I think Melinda did that one.”

“Don’t get good home cooking like this in the city,” he plops the cherry in his mouth and his jaw tenses with the tartness, he hums in satisfaction. He looks you up and down once more, “don’t get that personal touch.”

“I’m glad you like it, I’ll let Melinda know,” you push your hands into the large pockets of your apron, a movement that further catches his attention.

“Sounds good, cupcake,” he opens the carton and pours the milk into the glass, “you do delivery?”

“Sundays,” you answer, “not that we get many requests but…”

“Personal deliveries,” he insists, “like you said, house is far away, and I’m new in town. Wouldn’t mind a familiar face and a nice pie.”

You rub your neck, “well I don’t usually do the deliveries.”

“Melinda?” he prompts.

“No, Terry takes them with the lumber.”

“Mm,” he frowns, “right… guess I’ll just make the trip in.”

“Okay,” you nod, “let me know if ya need anything else.”

“Oh, I definitely will,” he slithers as you slowly turn away.

You feel him watching you as you try to hide behind the counter. You take a cloth and the cleaner and start wiping down the back of the display. You hear the clink of his fork against the plate.

City people are always a bit odd, but he gives you a bad feeling.

[whoreash]

bed chem ──★ ˙🍓 ̟

nagi seishiro was definitely not one to make an effort into being a romantic. it was just too much effort to look into someones eyes and seem interested and talk all flirty and stupid.

with you, though, the romance was, almost, inevitable. it was natural and easy.

especially in the mornings, your limbs tangled together and breaths connected by a common pace.

you woke up first— as usual— but you also stayed next to seishiro’s sleeping position. inspecting every small frown and misplacement of hair that graced his face every morning.

when seishiro does awake, it’s excruciatingly slowly as if he has all the time in the world— which, he does but nonetheless— lashes fluttering and breath slowing.

he alerts you of his awakening by a small grasp of your hip, finding his place under your— his— shirt.

before his eyes even open, his face leans into yours. his first sense was to kiss you, who cares about sight when you’re lips are on his?

you stop him abruptly, one hand over his mouth and one over yours.

seishiro’s eyes flutter awake, immediately— offended by the idea of you not wanting to kiss him. the emotion of being offended was foreign to him, too much effort, he says— but what the hell?

“sorry, sei— morning breath.” a simple mutter escapes you, explaining your actions.

at this, seishiro pouts. who cares about morning breath? he wants to kiss you. you were just getting him bothered over nothing.

attempting harder, he leans into yet again— but to no avail. seishiro could, theoretically, beat you in this match, but he was never one to be troubled over things— especially in the morning.

“i’ll give you a kiss after we both brush our teeth, ‘kay?”

with that, seishiro, finally surrendered. well— partly. you’ll go brush your teeth and he’ll stay in bed, waiting for your kiss.

you don’t, truly, expect him to get up without his morning kiss?

note : saw sabrina not too long ago and can’t get the concert out of my head soooo…. nagi incoming (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ

[buckysslut]

bucky realising his gf has a goof girl kink and teasing her all day with it and finally using it in bed after torturing her all day in public 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥

You and Bucky were on a run, after he insisted you should start coming with him for his - quite frankly - unnecessarily long and tiring runs. You’re panting, only barely have finished your 2nd lap whilst Bucky was on his.. god knows how many laps he’d done by now, a whole lot more than you. You lean against a tree, trying to catch your breath. “Good girl!” He says as he comes and claps you on the back proudly, passing you your water bottle. Your cheeks instantly flush, the words running through your head and instantly soaking your panties. You sputter on your water. Bucky quickly pats your back, “Woah, you okay?” He asks wirh a furrowed brow, to which you nod, cheeks red as ever. “Wait… did you just..?” He asks, expression growing more smug. You quickly shake your head out of embarrassment, quickly rushing off to do another lap. He snickers.

The next instance was later on, at a cafe where you and Bucky both got some lunch. You finish your plate fairly quick, having been starving from the run. He notices, nodding to your plate with a small, “Damn, good girl.” Your cheeks instantly flush red again, avoiding eye contact and trying to act like it definitely didn’t turn you on beyond belief. Again, he snickers.

And then of course, later on… “Fuckin’ good girl.. takin’ all my cock like a fuckin’ cocksleeve.. that’s all you wanted, huh baby? Just want to be my good girl? Saw the way your face went all pink today, you’re fuckin’ adorable, y’know that?” He murmurs into your ear as his cock slides in and out of you, your arms around his shoulders and face buried in his shoulder. “‘ts okay baby.. don’t gotta be embarrassed about bein’ Daddy’s good girl…

(A/N: I giggled so hard bc i actually read it as goof girl at first and didn’t realise and thought it was some like new kind of kink thing like a bimbo or some shit and then i looked at it again and went.. OHH)

@chrisevansleftnipple , @homiesexual-or-homosexual , @httpsells