#HAHAHAHAHAH HAND THEM OVER

[ayanos-husband]

⚠️IF YOUR BLOG SAYS "minors dni", DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS POST. I AM A MINOR⚠️

roasting your f/os!!

rb with a picture of one of your f/os [romantic, platonic or familial], roast one of mine, and i'll roast yours back based on appearance + what i know abt them >:3

i'll try to get as much done, i may not be active sometimes (i have church, and school stuffs i need to get done)

keep in mind i have the right to refuse some f/os for comfort!! i'm srry :'(

weee

[lazyjellyfish300]

If you’re willing, for a dash of angst-tober

Miguel meets you, for obvious reasons you can’t resist him. He’s sexy, smart, charmingly catty and unfunny in a cute way. No shit you’re in love, you two go on a couple dates but he’s oddly distant and you don’t know why.

He clearly feels the same but he’s holding back. Soon when you get tired of waiting for him. So you start seeing other guys, but they aren’t him. You’re consumed by longing, no other man can compare (how could they).

Miguel finally calls you back after a week. He says he’s sorry for blowing you off, and he’s ready to commit. Saying,

“I love you Gwen Stacey”

…..and years later that decision will come to haunt him hahahahahha hahah HAHAHAHAHAH

Only if you’re a willing and not a coward

😈😈😈

Never back down never whaaaat!!! 😈 Lol anyways here ya go moot, this one's for you. 🖤🖤 All hail your amazing brain for this idea! So beautifully angsty. Happy Angstober! 🎃 @miguel-ohara-wifey

would've been you 🍂

CW: MINORS DNI, X FEM!READER, READER IS MIGUEL'S VERSION OF GWEN STACY(READER IS NOT GWEN, AND obviously NOT ATSV), CANON DIVERGENCE, ANGST, NO HAPPY ENDING, DEATH, BLOOD, BREAKUP, RELATIONSHIP DIFFICULTY, NON GRAPHIC SMUT.

WORDS: 1.7K

@1-900-venusluvs @thatone-writer

Crimson. Not red. Not scarlet. Not cherry, but crimson. Crimson in particular. 

Crimson. Beautiful, deep crimson. Alluring, so calmly bewitching. Like the pleasant feeling that attacked every nerve in your body that rendered you with the consistency of a cloud after downing a glass of wine. Getting lost in the eyes of the lover who smiled from across the rim. The softest moan leaving your lips as you sat at the edge of his bed and felt the chill of the tension of the heated room spring goosebumps all over your naked body he was slowly undressing, laying you backwards on those silk sheets, thighs opening as his hands trailed fire and scored themselves to undying memory on the shadow of your skin.  

His eyes...

You stare at Miguel from across you at a restaurant, your lingering gaze he senses without even needing to meet it with his own. He simply brings his hand above the table, giving yours a tender squeeze as you peruse the menu. 

You realized then you might have been in love with him.

Your story was simple, transpiring like most any other couples who meet and wind up luckily in love. The outward beauty he possessed was increasingly obvious, but his deadpan demeanor and unserious quips were what endeared himself even more to you.

And he could only stand there in shocked disbelief. Almost like you were a stray cat that clung to an owner you selected by chance who originally thought himself incapable of returning such warmness. 

The hell you saw in a sad old man like him? He didn't understand it, but he couldn't help but welcome it. Your cheesy grin, the playful banter you met with his sarcastic remarks. 

"What are you making us for dinner?" You'd ask. 

"God, I don't know babe..." Miguel's fingers comb through his tousled locks of dark brown as he looked at the pitiful items in your sparce pantry. 

"Tomato reduction with melted mozzarella and cured meat, warmed in a flaky pastry?" You ask from the open freezer. 

"The shock?" He looks at you, quickly overshadowed by unamusement, however he still holds back a chuckle. "Hot Pockets?" 

"The highest level of cuisine!" You toss the box back onto the shelf,  "The way they come out of the microwave like Satan's taint around the edges yet Antarctica in the middle reallyyy sets them apart." 

"How else?" He smirks. 

"Just the way I like it." You hum as you dial the number for your favorite takeout place, not noticing the ache in his chest as he looked back at you. 

Even Miguel O'Hara wasn't immune to the temptation that came with breaking his own rules. 

The daughter of a police chief. 

Why, oh why, did it have to be you? 

Rules he watched bitterly as his own colleagues suffered countless times before, seemingly unfazed by their agony, almost a little sadistic as they cried for their dead loved ones. It was all a part of the plan. The unpleasant truth. 

You don't become Spider-Man by just putting on a suit. 

Feelings must take a backseat when the security of the multiverse, the entire foundation of the very fabric of millions of innocent lives were at stake. 

And how that foreign pain never quite made itself so painfully understood to him until it just so devastatingly involved the soul he fell so deeply and hopelessly in love with. 

And so, like with many of his dealings before, he left you high and dry. Protective measures he took like muscle memory. 

He would hurt you first before you could ever think about hurting him. 

Even if the heartbreak was by grand design. The fabric of the multiverse knitted permanently with the inevitable tragedy of your demise that could not be undone. 

"We can't.....we can't do this." He said simply before he left you like a ghost in the rain, turning away before you could see the tears that threatened to escape. Cursing his name. 

Run away, numb himself, just bottle it up like he always does when he's confronted with matters of the heart that even toyed with the idea of showing his belly. His vulnerability. His weak spot. Calls unanswered. A number out of service. 

He was never here and you never awakened the latent stirrings in his heart that just so ached for warm connection that you fulfilled at last. 

You cried. You cried a lot. Sobbed for his presence that left you with a hole in your chest. Who would you gripe about work to? Who would hear your ugly laugh besides him and find every part of you that you thought wasn't worth writing home about, to be the endless rumination that haunted his mind?

Nobody but him. Nobody like him anywhere. And so you trudged forward with your weary and flayed heart, trying to act like the gaping hole he left in it didn't make your lungs feel like they were full of water every time you breathed. 

Selfishly, spitefully trying to find a replacement in the arms of strangers. Hell, even some of them you knew. Ben Reilly. Peter B. Parker. His coworkers, his friends, even. 

He ruined your life and trampled your heart so you'd smite him back where it really hurts. That's right. You'd go so low as fucking Ben Reilly and Peter Parker. 

---

"Fuck, baby...did he ever fuck you like this?" 

"No..." You moan loudly, knowing damn well every time you closed your eyes you only saw the persistent layer of the damned red of his eyes.

Peter's cock wasn't as girthy as Miguel's,  but the length was close enough that if he fucked you deeply at just the right angle, it could spur vivid memories of all those nights, all those times Miguel O'Hara made love to you, fucked you senseless. 

You moan and sigh, touching yourself, loving the way this new man below you was putty in your hands while you put on a show. His lustful gaze for a moment you mistake for the feeling of being desired, being loved. For now, you figure, it's enough. 

But Peter couldn't fix it. Neither could Ben. 

Fucking Ben. 

That one really stabbed Miguel in the heart. Sinking so low that you'd give your body to a man who was nothing like him. Somebody he thought was below him. Somebody you knew damn well he disliked, and well, you gave over the most intimate parts of you he so foolishly thought you reserved for himself. 

He felt sick when he overheard him talking about it. How you moaned his name, whined so sweetly for him. How he ate you out. How he bent you over in the very bed you and him shared just weeks prior. 

A dull knife in his heart when he found out you even fell asleep together. 

Did he make your toes curl like he could? Did he make you cum? Did gracing the peaks of ecstasy with Ben feel anything like how it felt when you were with Miguel? 

Did those 7 goddamn months even fucking matter to you at all? 

----

Miguel calls you black out drunk, 

"Ben....fucking Ben...how COULD you?!" 

The shade of bleeding red he saw put the intensity of the natural crimson of his eyes to shame. 

You stayed silent. You got exactly what you wanted. The deadly blow had its intended effect. But it didn't feel as gratifying as you thought it would. It made you feel worse. Even as he was yelling over the phone. 

"How was he then? Is he as good as me? Did you think about me while he was fucking you? Did you even have the heart to take down our pictures together before you invited his slimy ass over?" 

Your chin trembles and Miguel stops when he finally hears you cry. 

And despite everything, he would take you back in a heartbeat. 

"Who's gonna be there to listen to me complain about work every day, huh?" Miguel sobs. "Who... who's gonna remind me to take out my contacts? H-How am I supposed to finish that fucking show we were watching together....?" He pauses, the anger tightening in his belly like a fist, 

"What do you see in him?" 

"Miguel?"

"Answer my fucking question. What do you see in him?!"

"Why do you keep talking about Ben?"

"Because Ben doesn't fucking love you the way I do!" He breaks down and your vision is completely clouded over in tears, hand shaking on the receiver as he finally admits what you so desperately wanted to hear. 

"I love you. Do you still love me?" 

"I n-never stopped loving you, Miggy..." You cry. 

"You still think of me?" 

"All the fucking time. I can't get you out of my head." 

"You want me?" He whispers.

"More than I've ever wanted anyone." 

"I'm coming over. Right now." 

-----

And, just for a moment. Simply loving you made him forget about the inevitable dread of losing you. 

It was a day just like any other day in the fall. When the dead leaves mixed with the rain and the ground was a soaked grey, reprieving the gloomy city from the consistent smog that covered the clouds. A remarkable chill in the air laced with nostalgia and petrichor that could be cured with a sweater, making the hot temperature of a warm beverage so inviting. 

It was wonderful day, and all because you stayed in bed together five minutes longer than you should have. Your coffee mug next to his, eggs on buttered toast, nudging his hip as you ate by the stove. Quiet domesticity with the intimate element of routine that  caused him to distinctly remember thinking:

"I can see this happening every day for the rest of my life." 

And he left. Had he known, had he guessed. He wouldn't have let you leave at all, just stay there safely snuggled with you against his chest. 

----

Crimson. Haunting, beautiful crimson. 

The sea that left your battered body covering the street while Miguel shook with grief. The blood loss was such that it exceeded the time it would take for your spirit to depart your body. The disturbing fact that you were barely holding on was even more painful. 

The devasting fact that you were probably suffering in your final moments and couldn't even see him or speak. He told you all of the things he was sorry for  in final confession, but it only came out as the distant echoings of his fading voice as the slow, delayed compassion of death quietly led you by the hand. 

"I love you....I'm not sorry for that..."He whispers, but the light in your eyes had already gone out.

---

[atinylittlepain]

SAWEEET BABY JESUS MARY AND JOSEPH! THE DBF!JOEL WEILURHWLEIRHWEIRWE! That was incredible! Could we have oneshot of the lead up to them fucking in Joel's truck? 👀👀👀👀😍😍😍😍😍

hahahahahah wooh! i'm glad you asked - here is the ooey gooey middle of the Ride It oreo cookie, enjoy :)

Let's Take a Ride

No-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

joel miller masterlist

warnings | 18+ smutty language, dbf!Joel, age gap

.............................

“Aren’t you cold, honey?” Truthfully, she is, barefoot in the gravel of the highway shoulder, her heels tossed into the backseat a while ago, in nothing but the short dress she had gone out in. But Joel’s gaze is warming her up just fine.

“I’m ok, Joel. Thank you for coming to get me.” He sighs, stepping closer to inspect the flat on her back tire, letting out a low whistle as he kneels down to take a closer look.

“More than a flat tire. The whole rim is busted. Just how fast were you going?” She flushes hard under his pointed look. So maybe she had been speeding when she accidentally hit a curb. But mistakes happen, right?

“Um, I don’t know?” He huffs, getting up from his kneeling position with a groan and wiping his hands off on his jeans. He cocks his head at her, crossing his broad arms over his chest. She swallows hard at the flex of his biceps.

“You been drinking tonight, honey?” When all she offers him in response is an anxious smile, he clicks his tongue, shaking his head.

“I’m not drunk. I had a drink with some friends. It’s not like that’s a crime. I am of age, y’know.”

“Oh, believe me, I know.” Her brow furrows at his sighed out words. What’s that supposed to mean?

“Are you telling me you got all dressed up like that just for some friends, honey?” That question shocks her silent, and he chuckles at her slack expression, stepping closer until she can feel the heat radiating off him. He lets a single finger skate along the neckline of her dress before hooking it under one of the straps, tugging her in until she’s pressing her palms against his solid chest to stop herself from stumbling.

“Tell me this, honey. Why’d you call me, of all people, to come help you?” She can smell lingering whiskey on his breath. He’s been around her dad’s house enough times for her to know he likes a nightcap, a little hit of warmth to end the day. That mixed with the scent of him - cedar and sweat, and smoke from the cigarette habit he swears he’s trying to break - is sending her mind into a haze, and she’s finding it hard to answer his question.

“Because, um– because you– um–” He chuckles again, cutting off her mumbling with a wicked crook of a grin on his face.

“It’s alright, honey. You can just say it, huh? I know what you want.” Is this really happening?

“You– you do?” He nods, bringing his other hand to tilt her chin up, keeping her gaze on his.

“You think I haven’t noticed? Can practically feel you burning a hole through my back with the way you look at me, honey. What a sweet little thing like you wants with an old man like me is beyond me.” The finger he kept hooked in the strap of her dress is running the arc of it, back and forth, back and forth, the graze of his skin against hers making her shiver.

“You’re not that old.” That makes him laugh, his eyes crinkling up and his smile broadening at her.

“Don’t think I’m too old for you?” Albeit hesitantly, she shakes her head no.

“Think you can handle me, honey? Bet I ride a little different than them college boys of yours.” Her stomach twists at the implication of his words, and she thinks she’d melt on the spot if he wasn’t still firmly holding her chin in place.

“I can handle it.” She tries to sound as confident as possible, but her voice still ends up coming out a bit meek, almost a whine. Joel just grins, dipping his head down to nose along her cheek, his lips finding the shell of her ear. The low drawl of his words goes straight through her, pooling heat in her core.

“We’ll see about that, honey. Why don’t you be a dear and open that car door for me. We’re gonna take a little ride together.”

[falafelluva]

warnings: not a warning but to the anon who sent in a request with a flower emoji and something with that my fics make them giggle pls resend it because my phone glitched and it got deleted n now I feel bad 😞😞💔!

Girllll 🥹🥹🥹🥹

I forgot it HAHAHAHAHAH BUT I HAVE SOMETHING NEW 👀 kenny crushing on his younger cousins babysitter and is literally making things up just to stop by etc.

; 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐃 - 𝘬.𝘺𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘻 ✮

summary: the req

warnings: x

author’s note: scuse my disappearance yall, they r trying to put me in a mental hospital. This is so short because im trying to eat my rice and I made u guys study psychology in this 😔😥

It started as nothing more than a coincidence—or at least, that’s what Kenan told himself. His cousin Leila had a babysitter now, someone his aunt had raved about over the phone. “She’s amazing with kids,” his aunt had said, “Leila loves her.”

Kenan didn’t think much of it until the first time he stopped by his aunt’s house and saw you sitting on the couch, Leila sprawled across your lap with her favorite picture book in hand.

You looked up and smiled, warm and effortless, and Kenan swore his heart stopped for a second.

“Hi,” you said casually, brushing off the dust from the book

Kenan cleared his throat, trying to play it cool. “Hey. Uh, I’m Kenan. Leila’s cousin.”

“I know,” you replied with a small laugh. “She talks about you all the time, star boy, right?”

Star boy.

From that moment, Kenan couldn’t help himself. Anytime he had a free afternoon, he found a reason to stop by his aunt’s house.

Dropping off snacks for Leila, picking up a book he ‘forgot’ the last time, or even randomly asking his aunt if she needed help with errands.

The truth? He just wanted to see you.

One Wednesday afternoon, you were in the kitchen cutting up some fruit for Leila when the doorbell rang.

You frowned—his aunt wasn’t due home for another couple of hours.

When you opened the door, there he was. Kenan stood on the porch, hands stuffed in his pockets, his signature sheepish grin plastered across his face.

“Hey,” he said, glancing over your shoulder. “Is, uh, my aunt home?”

You raised an eyebrow. “No, she’s still at work. You didn’t know that?”

“Oh… right. Must’ve mixed up the time.” He scratched the back of his neck, clearly caught off guard by your question.

You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a teasing smile on your lips.

“You’ve been stopping by a lot lately. Are you sure you’re not just here for the snacks?”

Kenan laughed nervously, feeling his ears heat up. “Maybe. Leila does have good taste.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, unconvinced but amused. “Come in. She’s in the living room drawing.”

Kenan stepped inside, pretending to head straight for his cousin, but his gaze kept drifting toward you.

You were wearing a simple outfit—jeans and a t-shirt—but somehow, you made it look effortless.

He sat with Leila for a few minutes, watching her color in her sketchbook, but when she got distracted by her favorite cartoon, he wandered back into the kitchen.

“You’re good with her,” he said, leaning against the counter as you wiped down the cutting board.

You glanced at him, a hint of surprise in your expression. “Thanks. She’s a sweet kid. Makes my job easy.”

Kenan nodded, his heart racing as he searched for something else to say.

He wasn’t usually like this—nervous and fumbling for words. But there was something about you that made him feel like a teenager again.

“You’re, uh, studying?” he asked, motioning to the notebook you’d left open on the counter.

“Yeah, just some school stuff. Nothing exciting.”

“What are you studying?”

“Psychology,” you replied, setting the board aside. “I want to work with kids one day. Maybe as a counselor or therapist.”

“That’s cool,” Kenan said, genuinely impressed. “You’d be great at that.”

“Thanks.” You smiled, and for a second, he forgot how to breathe.

Just then, Leila called for you from the living room. You excused yourself, leaving Kenan alone in the kitchen, staring at the counter like an idiot.

“What am I doing?” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair.

—

The next time he stopped by, he didn’t even bother coming up with an excuse. He showed up with a bag of snacks for Leila and walked in like he belonged there.

You were on the floor with Leila, helping her put together a puzzle, when you glanced up and spotted him.

“Back again?” you teased, your eyes sparkling.

Kenan shrugged, trying to keep his voice casual. “What can I say? I like spending time with my favorite cousin.”

Leila looked up and beamed. “Kenan!”

“See?” he said, grinning as he sat down next to you. “She’s always happy to see me.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Uh-huh. And it has nothing to do with the snacks you always bring.”

“Hey, I know how to win people over,” he said, smirking.

As the afternoon went on, you noticed the way Kenan’s attention kept shifting from Leila to you.

He asked you about your classes, your favorite movies, even what music you liked. It was almost… sweet.

When his aunt finally came home, you were packing up your bag while Kenan lingered by the door.

“Need a ride home?” he offered, his tone casual but his heart pounding.

You looked at him, surprised. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” he said, grinning. “But I want to.”

You hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Okay, sure. Thanks.”

As you climbed into his car, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Kenan was charming, in a slightly awkward but undeniably endearing way.

And Kenan?

He felt like he’d won the lottery just having you in the passenger seat, laughing at his jokes and filling the car with your presence.

Maybe his excuses weren’t so bad after all.

[whereslynx]

Hey love could u do one where it takes place at the santo party where Rubi is rapping and when he says “I didn’t wanna come tonight but spooky made me come” and everyone starts ooooing could u have the reader be like mmhh he makes me cum too and she’s just drunk and he does that lil smirk of his 😩

a/n: HAHAHAHAHAH SURREEEEE. had to leave out the breaking of the truce part for the sake of reader and spooky’s moments🤭

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The Santos backyard was packed with people, the dim glow of string lights casting a warm, hazy atmosphere over the party. The music was loud, rattling through the speakers that were set up near the patio, and the mix of laughter, chatter, and shouting filled the air. The grill had long since been abandoned, now just a pile of cold charcoal, but the drinks kept flowing, and the energy of the night was still high.

You leaned back against the fence, sipping on a half-full cup of whatever beer was left in the cooler, feeling the alcohol buzzing pleasantly in your system. The backyard had become a familiar scene for you, ever since you started coming to these Santos parties with Oscar—better known to the world as Spooky. As his girl, you fit in with the crew, earning your place among them with the same loyalty and respect that he demanded from everyone else.

Ruby, always the life of the party, had set himself up in the center of the yard, rapping loud enough to get a crowd of hyped Santos around him, cheering him on. He was in rare form tonight, spitting bars and dropping jokes, making everyone double over in laughter. You’d been keeping an eye on him while chilling near the back with your drink, watching the way the group circled around him, hanging on to his every word. Spooky and you had known Mario for quite some time, and when Spooky respected someone, you respected them too. So, you tended to make sure to make sure Ruby was okay.

“Man, I didn’t even wanna come tonight,” Ruby slurred, his voice dripping with playful theatrics as he paused, a sly grin forming. “But Spooky made me come!”

The crowd lost it, howling with laughter and nudging each other. You glanced over at Oscar, who was leaning against the edge of the patio, his back to the house, arms crossed as he watched the scene unfold. He hadn’t been paying much attention, but the second Ruby dropped his name, you saw that signature smirk pull at the corner of his lips.

Caught up in the energy of the moment and the alcohol swirling in your veins, you didn’t even think twice before loudly blurting out, “Mmmhmm… he makes me cum too!”

For a second, the backyard went dead quiet, your words hanging in the air. Then the entire crowd exploded in laughter, even louder than before, doubling over as they howled and jeered. Some of the Santos started hollering, “Ayyy!” while others slapped their knees and gave you looks of pure disbelief, like they couldn’t believe what just came out of your mouth.

You stood there, trying to hold back your own laughter, knowing full well that your face was probably flushed from both the alcohol and the sudden attention. Ruby nearly dropped the mic, cracking up so hard he had to lean on one of the guys for support.

“That’s it! She wins tonight!” someone yelled from the group, fanning their face as they kept laughing.

You caught Oscar’s eye from across the yard. He pushed off the wall, his dark eyes gleaming with that quiet, confident amusement that made your heart race every time. The smirk on his face deepened, and he slowly shook his head, like he couldn’t believe you just said that in front of everyone. But he wasn’t mad—not even close. He was proud.

As the laughter around you finally started to die down, Oscar made his way through the crowd, the air shifting as people automatically moved out of his way, giving him space. The backyard felt smaller with him walking toward you, his intense gaze never leaving yours. He stopped in front of you, his hand sliding around your waist as he leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear.

“Drunk, huh?” Oscar murmured, his voice dropping low, the teasing note unmistakable as it rumbled through his chest. His eyes flickered with amusement, a playful glint dancing behind the calm façade he usually wore. He leaned in just a little closer, his breath warm against your ear, making your skin tingle in the cool night air.

You tilted your head up toward him, unable to hide the grin that spread across your face. The warmth in his tone mixed with the steady heat from his body pressed against yours, filling you with a familiar, comfortable feeling—like everything in the world was just right when you were with him.

“Maybe a little,” you replied with a soft laugh, shrugging as if it wasn’t obvious from your flushed cheeks and the slightly unsteady way you leaned into him. You could feel the buzz still coursing through you, the drinks from earlier making your thoughts hazy but pleasant. But more than anything, it was the closeness to him, the feel of his arm around you, that had your heart beating just a little faster.

Oscar’s smirk deepened, his hand still resting on your waist as his thumb brushed lazily against your skin through the fabric of your shirt. He tilted his head, giving you that look—half amused, half proud, like he enjoyed seeing you this way, all soft and carefree in his arms. The backyard lights cast a faint glow around you both, the laughter and chatter of the party fading into the background. In this moment, it felt like it was just the two of you, wrapped up in each other’s warmth.

“Just a little, huh?” he teased, his voice velvet-soft now, almost daring you to admit more. He knew exactly what he was doing, and the way his eyes searched your face, lingering on your lips for a beat longer than usual, told you he was enjoying every second.

You let out another laugh, the sound light and carefree. “Okay, maybe more than a little,” you confessed, leaning into him fully, feeling safe in his hold, like you could be completely yourself here with him, no judgment, no pressure. Just you, him, and the night stretching out before you.

Oscar chuckled, his breath warm against your skin. He pulled you in closer, ignoring the lingering stares and whispers from the crowd. You were used to this, the way everyone watched when the two of you were together. Spooky wasn’t the kind of guy anyone expected to see soft or affectionate in public, but here he was, holding you like you were the only one who mattered.

“Alright, alright, I don’t know how I’m gon’ top that off,” Rubi finally called out, still laughing. “But I wanna give something back. DJ, spin that shit!”

The crowd roared in agreement, a few of them still wiping tears of laughter from their eyes, and you couldn’t help but join in. The party would go on with Ruby’s rapping ringing in your ears, but after a moment like that, it was clear you had just made your mark on the night.

Oscar pulled back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes gleaming with that familiar mix of mischief and amusement. The smirk playing on his lips never wavered, a subtle curve that made your heart skip a beat. “You good?” he asked, his voice dropping lower, just for you to hear. His tone was soft, intimate, cutting through the buzz of the party like it was your own little world.

You met his gaze, the warmth of his hand still resting on your waist, and nodded, the thrill of the moment still coursing through you. Your pulse raced, not just from the alcohol but from the way Oscar looked at you—as if nothing else in the world mattered. “I’m good,” you replied, the words escaping with a breathless laugh, still riding the high of your bold declaration.

Oscar’s smirk deepened, and his hand tightened slightly around your waist, pulling you closer for a brief second. It was that protective, almost possessive gesture that sent a spark through you, grounding you in the chaotic energy of the backyard. He didn’t have to say much—he never did—but the look he gave you, filled with pride and amusement, told you everything. He was impressed.

“Good,” he murmured again, his voice smooth as silk. With one last squeeze of your waist, he gently guided you away from the center of the action, his arm draped casually around your shoulders. You fit perfectly against his side, the heat of his body a comforting contrast to the cool night air.

As the two of you made your way back toward the patio, the music kicked up again, louder this time, as if to reclaim the space after the brief pause of the crowd. The backyard was alive with noise and laughter, people picking up where they left off, but there was a noticeable shift in the energy. You could still hear the echoes of their reactions, those playful, teasing calls of “Ayyy!” that followed you even as you walked away. It seemed like no one could quite let go of the moment you had just created, and every so often, someone would nudge their friend, sending another round of knowing laughs your way.

You didn’t mind. In fact, you wore their attention like a badge of honor. You had been the one to steal the spotlight tonight, and judging by the lingering grins and whispers around you, it wasn’t something they would forget anytime soon.

Oscar led you to a quieter corner near the patio, away from the crowd but still within the pulsing heartbeat of the party. His arm stayed securely around you, his thumb absentmindedly tracing small circles on your shoulder, a silent but intimate gesture that made you feel like the two of you were in sync with each other. Even though the laughter and chatter of the Santos continued around you, in that moment, it was just you and him.

As the night went on, people continued to pass by with playful smirks or lighthearted comments, reminding you that you had left your mark on the night. But each time, Oscar just pulled you closer, his quiet presence reminding everyone that while you may have been the one to steal the show, you were his—and that was the real reason you stood out tonight.

And you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, knowing that no matter how wild things got at these parties, at the end of the day, you were with the one who made you feel like the only person in the room.

[azullumi]

wanderer and ayato — a family with them ☆彡

summary — family and children, how would they be as a parent and husband?

characters — wanderer and ayato (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — fluff, established relationship, familial relationships; headcanons

word count — 1348

a/n — this mainly focuses on what they're like around their children hahahahahah

WANDERER

Wanderer, however rough his personality is, actually shows himself getting along with children and being good at dealing with them, especially ones of his own blood, quite well. It was surprising actually, pleasantly surprising, him being able to get along with kids and having a soft spot for them was a fact you never knew but definitely needed to know.

Of course, it's not like he was immediately as accepting, unafraid, nor open as he is right as of the moment. He was once afraid, clueless, and anxious because he didn't want to end up accidentally hurting his child and it took him some time to overcome that, reassuring himself that children are not as fragile as he thinks.

After overcoming that fear of his, when he first held the hand of his child, he felt like breaking down and crying on his knees. When he first carried them in his arms, he held them gently yet filled with fear. How could a child be so small and soft? From then on, he was determined to protect and give the world to them.

If he has more than one (or multiple) child, he would try to treat them fairly and equally, he makes sure that no one is left out of anything or feeling like they're not being paid attention to. After all, he doesn't want them to experience the same things that he did. He knows how horrible it feels and he couldn't imagine having them go through that.

He would give them everything that they wish for but on certain conditions that they must pass or follow. He doesn't want them to become spoiled children who'll cry whenever they won't get something that they want as he doesn't like that. His conditions aren't that complex nor hard though.

"I'll give you that as long as you promise to always be a good child." 

He’s protective. Not over or too much but he’s definitely protective as majority of the time he’s worried about their safety or them encountering any kind of danger so it causes him to become strict when the situation calls for it. Permissions will often be asked from him especially when it's about going somewhere quite far away.

“My friends invited me to hangout and play with them on the river."

"Honey, you have to ask your father for permission. You know that even if I'll allow you, he always has the last say."

Ultimately, he'll end up allowing them but someone has to accompany them and it's either you or him.

Although as time passes by and his children have grown, he becomes less strict and protective. Becoming  a carefree father as he just lets his children do anything that they want as long as they know what they are doing and are responsible with their actions. However, he still enforces some rules on them like curfews so they don’t get overboard and carried away.

He has a playful side that he shows to his children, occasionally teasing them but then silently panicking if they would end up crying because he doesn't know how to deal with that. Probably told them that Santa isn't real

"(Name), they are crying."

"Did you make them cry again? I told you not to do that."

He always has time for his family, spending more than half of his day bonding and just being there for you and his children. He doesn’t wish to become an absent figure and wants to show that he’s always there not only for you but also for them also.

He never knows if he's being good enough for his children so thoughts often wander and linger inside his head, thinking and believing that he’s not a good father, however, his children think otherwise as they see him as the best father that they could have.

He's doing everything that he can to be the father that his children need and not be lacking towards them, through his own actions, words, and methods, he displays his affection and support for them in multiple ways.

KAMISATO AYATO

The pure definition of a loving, doting, and affectionate father. Overprotective and strict, especially if he has a daughter.

He tries to be sweet and understanding towards his children, giving them full support and showering them with love always. It's a given that he'll get along with his children easily knowing him and his personality.

He spoils them with gifts always and wouldn't hesitate in buying them what they ask for. He tries his best to make time for them and spend time with them, often finishing his duties early and immediately.

"I'm here."

"You're early, what about your duties?"

"I finished them, my love. Anyways, where are they?"

He'll support his children in whatever path they'll choose and go down on. They want to be an artist? Full support for them and he would even buy the materials that they need. If they even need someone to teach them, he'll hire a professional. A samurai? A blacksmith? A fisherman? Or anything in general, they'll have his full support. As long as it's not anything dangerous or just illegal.

He would take his family on vacations and places when they wish to unwind and just relax. They could go to Mondstadt, Liyue, Sumeru, or anywhere they wish as long as they can and as long as his duties and responsibilities as the head wouldn't get in the way.

However, in times of festivals wherein he's one of the organizers and handlers, he wouldn't be able to accompany you nor his children in walking around and having fun in the said event. Thus you're left explaining everything to your children.

"Will father not come with us?"

"Sadly, I don't think he'll be able to, sweetie. But who knows, he might be with us later. For now, let's just enjoy everything, okay? Your father has prepared everything here and we should appreciate it!"

On rare occasions, he'll actually show up last minute and accompany you all in walking around and at those scarce moments, you'll have these memories burned in your memories.

In contrast to his sweetness and loving side though, he's actually strict and overprotective. It can't be helped though as he's the head of the Kamisato Clan and people are often out for his throat. His child becoming involved in these dangers are inevitable so he has to be wary and careful everytime to avoid any catastrophe or tragedy from happening.

Usually, when they would go out, he would have people following them and protecting them from the dark as it would ease his mind since he can't be there for them in case something happens. Knowing that they're with the people he trusts just clears his worries.

He's also cautious and mistrustful around the people they are surrounded with, you will never know who's trustworthy or who's going to stab your back. Everyone is considered a threat especially towards his family.

He doesn't wish to put pressure on his own children and would wish for them to leave a life wherein they are able to reach and achieve their dreams. However, he does understand that someone has to be the heir of his position and will soon become head of the family. It's just some wishful thinking that his children could live a carefree life that he couldn't have.

"Will my children live a happy life?"

"I'm sure they will, they have a great father like you."

"What if I'm not?"

"Oh, you definitely are."

That doesn't mean that he's not happy right now, however. He has everything that he could ever wish for, a loving family of his with an amazing partner like you. He's leading a fulfilling and successful life so how could he ever be ungrateful? He only wishes for his children to live a life wherein they're happy also.

Overall, despite his busy schedule and everything, he tries to always be there for his children no matter what and he'll probably never know how thankful they are to have a father like him.

— navigation | masterlist

[askinkiskarma]

ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ᴅᴀʏ ɪx - ᴀᴄᴄɪᴅᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ꜱᴛɪᴍᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

pairing: neteyam x omatikaya!reader

➽ a/n: this turned out a lot fluffier than intended, but i think i'm smutted-out and i'm one prompt away from starting to make these angsty hahahahahah. anyway, i hope you enjoy xx love u besties, smooches 🤍

➽ words: >700 words

➽ warnings: it goes without saying, but all of these works (kinktober-related) are smut and therefore minors should NOT interact with them.

➽ taglist (x) ��� kinktober masterlist (x)

The loud booming melodies of the Omaticaya flutes and drums were etching like a beautiful pattern into the air surrounding you, filling you with happiness and euphoric bliss as you swayed gracefully on Neteyam’s lap. You loved nights like these, full of music and celebration, full of conversation and laughter, full with all of the things you felt you lost when the Sky People returned. You felt lightheaded, like you were mindlessly floating through the clouds above, and you now believed your mother about all the times she’s warned you about excessive consumption of the heady concoction she called “liquid courage”. The name was apt, too apt, making you do things you normally wouldn’t have even considered, like getting close and personal with the man you’ve desired and dreamt about for as long as you were old enough to…well, notice people in that way. Neteyam was beautiful and strong, courageous and empathetic, smart and sensible. He was a family man, the best new generation warrior in the village, known among numerous Pandoran clans for all the qualities that he possessed, qualities that seemed never-ending and made him, on one hand, too good to be true, and on the other, incredibly intimidating to talk to. 

But not tonight. Tonight, you talked and the alcohol made you calm enough to be able to look into his eyes, it made you brave enough to respond to his quick-witted conversational remarks, it made you open enough to let your natural charm and comicality shine through, which you were grateful for. All of a sudden, he wasn’t NETEYAM anymore, big, scary, capital-lettered Neteyam, he was just… Neteyam, the boy you’ve known all your life, that’s watched you grow up, that gave you your first handmade arrow and taught you how to shoot it. It got so cozy, so quickly, that you somehow found yourself nestled in his lap, humming peacefully alongside the singers providing the entertainment for the evening. 

There was a downside to the fermented juice that made your head all funny, though, and you were feeling it now, intense and overwhelming and impossible to ignore - there was heat in your womb, fiery and intoxicating, manifesting itself in the oddest of ways, in ways that made something that started off innocent and ended up in this, thoughts that told you that the way he was bouncing his leg to the beat of the drum felt good, too good, so good you needed to ride this feeling, see it through, allow it to wash over you and through you. You were happy the atmosphere was so electric and so loud, drowning the inadvertent moan you let out when his muscular, taut, azure thigh hit a particular spot that made you throb in ache, the emptiness in you begging to be filled, calling for him like a siren to a lost sailor. 

Beads of sweat, facilitated by a racing heartbeat and rushed inhales were gathering on your forehead as he continued the rhythmic, saccadic movement, almost as if he could tell what it did to you, as if he wanted you to feel this way, for him, because of him. You wondered fleetingly if it looked weird to any oblivious onlooker, if the way you started swaying your hips on his thighs to get some of the relief you desperately craved was normal in these circumstances - either way, people were too busy with their own celebration to focus too heavily on yours, and the best thing about alcohol, as it turns out, you couldn’t find it in you to care. 

Your mind cleared momentarily with the breath hitched in your throat as his mouth found your ear, the smirk in his tone obvious even to your turned back, his voice velvet smooth and enticing, whispered and taunting. 

“You’re dripping all over my thigh, paskalin. Let go for me, let me show you how good I can make you feel.”

Your mother warned you about excessive consumption of the stuff she called “liquid courage”. She, however, was remised in warning you about something much more dangerous, much more additive - a beautiful overachieving blue boy with a dirty mouth and a desire to please, who’s had a crush on you since the moment he carved that arrow for you when you were young.

taglist: @pandoraslxna @sulieykte @blue-slxt @eywaeveng @neteyamsikran @elenamoncada-ibarra @spicymayyo @itsjazzsworld @daddysmurfslefttoenail @eyrina-avatar @iameatingmyhair @hadesbabygurl@linydoll @the-mourning-moon

[your-highnessmarvel]

cotton candy | s.riley

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Pairing: Simon Riley aka Ghost x Original female character

Warnings: ok so UM AHAHAH. SMUT. SMUT. SMUT. Reverse harem? Language.

Chapter Summary: She never thought she'd ever do this. But here she was. And here she will be forever, stuck in this room with them, unable to ever truly leave. Because the woman who walked through that door will not be the same who walks out.

A/N: HAHAHAHAHAH i went so overboard. Enjoy depravity.

Masterlist

Find it on AO3 HERE.

It wasn't long until the boredom set in.

With Soap laying down on a bunk, arm thrown over his shoulder, and Laura standing in the corner like she was acting out a childish punishment--the place felt odd.

Ghost had no idea how long they would take to sweep the base for shadows and get comms back on. He had no idea how long it would take to reboot everything.

But he did know that it was safer for him to stay here, with Laura, making sure her heart kept beating and her blood stayed in her veins.

He'd been so sure she was dead, under that guy. Her feet had gone still, her hands falling each side of her head. Ghost remembered the rage that had consumed him, from head to toe, gripping his rifle until he was sure his knuckles would burst from under his skin.

He'd calculated that shot in seconds and he'd prayed it didn't nip her head, her ear, or even her hair. He would've torn that man to shreds just for putting his hands on her.

And when Ghost had seen the blood, hot and wet, dotted on her face, splotched on her neck and gushing down her neck--he was sure she'd had her throat slit, but she'd gasped, air filling her lungs and his at the same time.

He looked at her now, huddled in the corner as if mommy put her there for bad behavior. Hands around her waist, leaning against the wall with her eyes cast to her dirty, bloodied sneakers.

"Can I go out - "

"No," Soap and Ghost said in unison--for like, the 12th time.

"But I just want to wash my hands," she whined, and Ghost snorted behind the balaclava. He'd taken off the bone mask, and it sat beside him on the bunk. A sliver of light kept drifting into the room, from the closed drapes, and sometimes, the sun would catch in his eyes and he'd close them.

"Alright," Soap groaned, swinging up and onto his feet, exasperated. "If princess wants water, I'll get her water."

Ghost wanted to laugh as he watched Soap saunter to the door, giving Laura a grimace that she laughed at. At least she was laughing. It was better than completely catatonic, which she'd been for the first 20 minutes of their quest in silence in this room.

He knew she was moving towards him even without seeing her. Ghost was staring straight ahead, his well-tuned ears catching on to the sound of her sneakers scratching on the white tiled floor.

"Ghost?"

"Laura?" Her name on his lips tasted like honey. He'd never think of this particular arrangement of letters in any other way. This name would forever be branded against his brain, an annoying, raven-haired reminder.

"I just want to say thank you," she said on an exasperated breath, as if she was at gunpoint forced to say that.

Ghost reached up, unhooked his helmet, and took it off. A flicker of light sliced horizontally on his face, brightening one blue eye. He let his helmet clammer to the ground. Then he pulled apart the velcro of his vest, the sound like a thunderclap in the silence of the room.

"Ghost?"

He hummed in response.

"Why are you... are you getting undressed?"

He smiled behind the mask. "I'm just shedding some weight," he answered calmly. He could practically hear the wheels turning in her head, the little hamster going a million miles an hour. "You're welcome, by the way," he said.

She took him by surprise when she sat down next to him, gripping the edge of the bunk bed with white knuckles.

He let the vest hit the ground too.

He looked at her, saw the bruises on her neck, under the blood. He felt rage rise in his throat all over again, but he clamped it to ash between his teeth before it could get any further.

"Are you okay?" he muttered. She looked up at him; big-doe eyes, wet with tears, cherry-red cheeks.

"My throat hurts," she mumbled back. "Like someone poured red hot lava into my mouth."

He clenched his teeth, picturing that guy over her, squeezing every atom of breath from her lungs. "That's what strangling does to you," he answered.

And then she said it. "I'm bored."

Ghost wanted to laugh because half of his job was waiting around, bored out of his God forsaken mind.

He was about to answer, tell her to entertain herself in her head like he does by thinking of her when Soap came back into the room with a bang.

"Alright!" he sing-songed. "There's water in a bucket, a soap bar, and a wet towel. Where do you need me, pancake?"

She turned, smiling back at Soap. He made his way over, setting the bucket at her feet, the soapy water sloshing onto her shoes. She chuckled, pulling her feet up, and the sound filled Ghost's head with birds.

Soap and Ghost exchanged a heavy look as Soap dipped his hands in the water, laving up the towel and then wiping her shoes.

"You don't have to," Laura mumbled, embarrassed.

Soap laughed, low in his chest, but he wiped her shoes clean and then dumped the towel back into the water. Taking it out, he wrung it and reached for her face.

"I can do that," she laughed, teeth and all.

Soap raised a brow. "Let me, please." He took one soapy hand against her shoulder, wetting her shirt, and gently wiped the side of her face. Ghost watched her eyes, huge and glassy, the flicker of light from the drapes cutting along her left eye.

Soap was kneeling between her legs, wiping along her neck, wetting the front of her t-shirt. She kept looking at him, examining the soot on his neck, the length of his fingers, his shoulders.

She barely registered when Ghost brushed her hair over her shoulder, raven locks sliding across her wet shirt.

She watched as Soap wet the towel again and purposefully let it drip and soak through her shirt, squeezing it against her bloodied neck. Ghost watched the drops disappear into her shirt, and he was jealous of them, that they got to be so close to her skin.

Ghost took his gloves off and he didn't miss the way her eyes flicked down to watch his fingers flex against his knees. He also didn't miss the way her tongue came out to wet her lips.

---

My heart was beating a million miles an hour, an angry little drummer boy bent on breaking every last one of my ribs.

As the water soaked my front, rendering my shirt useless at this point, I felt Ghost's bare fingers drag my hair back again, folding it behind my ears.

I breathed in, watching Soap's mouth pull into a smile. He put the rag back into the water, wrung it, brought it to my chin. The force of him cleaning my skin made my face turn, and then I was facing blue eyes, calm ocean waters, rimmed with light blonde lashes.

Ghost dragged a thumb across the left side of my face. "She's so pretty," he hummed. I had no idea who he was telling this to. To me. to himself. To Soap.

But the way he bore his eyes into mine felt like being plugged into a wall--electric and vibrant. I wanted to soak in that light.

Soap's wet hands dragged down my neck, washing away the dirt and blood and fingerprints. He caught onto the hem of my shirt. "Take this off," he said, calmly. But it wasn't an ask. It was a demand.

I gulped, retuning my gaze to the man at my feet. "But-"

He shook the soaping towel in front of me. "Gotta get every drop of blood off ya," he interrupted, his lips pulled back, showing his teeth. It felt like a predator's warning, showing his canines to the trusting little lamb.

Ghost helped me out of my t-shirt, pushing my hair back behind my shoulders once I was free of the soaked garment. I didn't look at him, rather entranced by the way Soap's eyes drunk me in; wide brown irises, reddening cheeks. It made me wonder if Ghost ever blushed.

"She really is somethin'," Soap muttered.

I was left in my bra, my own cheeks warming at the idea of being half naked before these two men.

My skin was on fire. I was sure that they could see the steam rising off the water droplets on my chest.

I sat there, heart hammering against my breastbone, as Soap finished washing the blood from my chest. From my face. Scrubbing my ears and my hairline until I felt raw, humid.

All while Ghost sat silently beside me, his eyes burning cigarette holes into the side of my face.

Soap slowly dropped the wet towel into the bucket with a sloppy sound. I watched him drag the bucket aside, the sound like grating nails on a board.

I swallowed hard when he scooted in between my legs, his hands spreading my knees apart to accommodate the width of his shoulders.

Ghost grabbed my chin, jerking my eyes to his. They were hooded, his pupils blown. "It's okay," he hushed, pressing his thumb against my lower lip.

I felt Soap's hand brush my waist.

I couldn't believe this was happening. I thought... I thought Ghost would never let anyone touch me this way. Grab my bra straps and pull them down, rise onto his knees and kiss my shoulders. Hold one of my tits in his hands, squeezing, pulling, groaning into my shoulder.

Ghost held my stare as Soap kissed up my neck, over the sensitive bruises, until he was kissing my jaw, his breath in my ear.

"You wanna kiss her, Sarge?" Ghost grumbled, his eyes creasing. He was smiling.

Soap chuckled lowly, darkly. "Yeah."

Ghost let go of my lip and his hands were replaced by Soap's fingers gliding across my jaw, pulling my face to his. He'd always been taller than me, but like this, with him knelt before me and me sitting on the cot, we were finally seeing eye-to-eye.

I saw him smile, a corner smirk, before he pressed his mouth to mine.

He held the back of my head, kissing me slowly. Devouring. Savoring. He tasted so different than Ghost. Where the latter was all dark ash and sweet musk, Soap was honey and blueberry.

The tip of his tongue caressed my lower lip. He groaned, grabbing onto my thigh as he deepened the kiss. He was getting rougher, quicker, kissing me with such ardour. He was a man starved, parched, drinking from the oasis in the dessert.

He pulled away, panting, watching me. I hadn't even touched him, so surprised, so baffled by the...whole situation.

My cheeks were aflame as I raised my hands. I grabbed onto his forearm with one, wrapping the other on the side of his neck, pulling him in for more.

This time, I was ready. I kissed him back, savoring the sickly sweet taste of him--his tongue against mine, his canines nipping the corner of my mouth. The way the stubble on his chin scratched at mine. The way he smelled, invading me. The way his hand tugged the roots of my hair.

He was warm and sweet and even the small sound his made when I pulled him closer made a volley of birds take flight across my tummy.

I hadn't even noticed that Ghost was touching me, petting my hair, rubbing his knuckles down my arm.

Then Soap pulled back, examining me under his thick lashes. "You good, lassie?" he whispered.

I gulped, looking up at Ghost. Why?

"Yeah," I answered.

Ghost hummed. "Lie back," he ordered.

I frowned, watching him and Soap get to their feet, standing over me, towering.

Then Ghost stepped forward, gently pushing me back into the cot, twisting me until my shoulders pressed into the flimsy material.

I waited, staring at the ceiling. Ghost came to my feet, Soap behind my head. He bent at the knees, bringing his mouth next to my ear.

"You know how good you taste?" he whispered, drawing goosebumps along my skin. I saw his hands move, felt Ghost pick up my foot and tug my shoe off.

I felt Soap's hands push my bra down, freeing my tits, heard him hiss through his teeth. I felt Ghost tug my other shoe free, heard it land dully on the floor.

"Look at ya," Soap groaned against my hairline, pinching my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, rolling them, causing me to arch off the cot and bend my knees.

I felt a deep, aching thud between my legs as I pulled towards Soap, hearing him coo in my ear.

And then Ghost's fingers were popping the button of my pants, sliding down my zipper. My breath hitched and I arched up, balling my hands into fists.

Ghost trailed a finger up my bare navel.

"It's okay," Soap mumbled in my ear, pressing his palms flat against my breasts. "Let us see you, Laura."

I shuddered, but remained quiet. Ghost's fingers returned to my waist, hooking in the band of my pants, tugging downward.

"Lift your hips up for me," he ordered, his voice soft. I obeyed, raising my hips, and I heard Ghost shuffle down, pulling my pants until he'd revealed my thighs, my knees. Until he was carefully lifting up one ankle to tug my pant leg off, the other.

Until I heard my pants fall to the floor.

"Fuck," Ghost muttered.

I pulled my knees together, my hands automatically shielding my panties. Even my toes curled in my socks.

"She looks amazing from here," Soap said, a hint of amusement in his voice as he palmed my tits, pushing them together between his hands. "How does she look from there, L.T?"

I wanted to melt. Not from being so exposed in front of Ghost, Soap. Not from being with two men. Not because I was liking it.

But because they were discussing me as if I wasn't there.

"Fucking ravishing, Johnny," Ghost answered, and I heard him get to his knees, my eyes locking with the ceiling as his hands grabbed my waist roughly, dragging me to the edge of the cot.

My insides turned to liquid when he hauled each leg over his shoulder, the backs of my knees on the rough fabric of his army-issued shirt.

"Here," Ghost said, and he handed something dark to Soap. "She likes to be blinded."

I opened my mouth the say something, but Soap wrapped a dark cloth over my eyes, tying it behind my head. I reached up, feeling it with my hands. Soap dragged his fingers along my forearms, slowly pulling my hands away.

I felt Ghost's breath on my inner thigh, and I clamped up, afraid that if I didn't control myself, I'd wiggle my hips in his face like a desperate whore.

"Let me in, Laura," Ghost warned, pressing one big hand to my thigh and pressing it open.

"She's blushing," Soap said, bemused, kissing my temple, my hairline. Playing with my tits as he saw fit--and I let him.

I let him because I felt Ghost hook a finger in my panties, pull the wet fabric aside until his cool breath was ghosting my core. I let Soap pinch my nipples, knead my tits because now Ghost pressed the pad of his thumb to my clit and my entire body reacted--arching off the cot, pushing my hips closer to his finger, searching and searching for more friction.

"Oh," Ghost chuckled lowly, deep in his chest. "She's desperate."

Soap laughed lowly. "Better give her what she wants, then, L.T."

I whimpered audibly when Ghost pressed harder on my clit, circling it slowly, titillating me. Slowly and slowly, deeper circles until I was breathing harder, faster, arching my tits into Soap's waiting hands. Curling my toes against Ghost's back, feeling him bend forward until he replaced his thumb with his mouth.

The moan that broke free from my lips was almost pornographic. But the way Ghost was licking me, sucking me, both hands digging deep into the meat of my thighs--it was a pleasure I'd never felt before. It coursed through my veins, from the tips of my toes to my hairline, dragging goosebumps along my flesh, lighting the embers in my belly.

"That feel good, princess?" Soap whispered in my ear, a purr.

I couldn't form a coherent answer. Ghost was nipping and sucking on my clit, pressing a finger into my hole slowly, stretching me out.

"Look at you," Soap continued. I moaned in response, biting it back behind my lips. "You're already so soaked. So wet for us."

I gasped, arching into Ghost's mouth, feeling his tongue lap me up. He groaned against me, fucking me with his finger slowly, brushing against a spot in me that made my knees shake.

"She's getting there, L.T," Soap said through a kiss on my cheek, on my jaw, my neck, my shoulder.

How did he know?

I didn't have a second to ponder that thought. The pleasure of Ghost's tongue pressed flat on my clit, licking long, languid strokes sent another wave of fire washing through me.

"Look at this pretty hole," Ghost muttered, pulling back, leaving me raw and wanting, panting and whimpering against Soap's mouth.

Ghost pumped his finger, once, twice, three times in and out of me, watching me swallow it whole. I moaned, trying to picture his face, trying to soak up what he felt.

He pressed his thumb to my clit, slowly rubbing me, fucking me with his finger. I pressed my knees closed instinctively, but one of Ghost's big palms pulled my knee back open.

"Let me watch you, Laura," he rasped, and oh, my name on his lips was a sin.

He played with me like that, watching his finger fuck me. Watching his thumb circle my clit slowly. Watching my hips stutter, my mouth open in a moan, in a whimper. Watching my chest rise and fall, Soap pressing kisses on my cheeks, my mouth, my shoulders.

"Stop playing with your food, Ghost," Soap groaned. "She's shaking."

And I was, trembling against the cot, my hands raising to cover my own breasts.

Ghost chuckled. Mean.

But he replaced his thumb by the warmth of his mouth, his lips, his wet tongue. He replaced the circles with sucking, lapping, nipping, until a knot formed deep in my belly and my hips started to grind on his mouth of their own accord.

He kept fucking his finger into me, and when he added another, my head went haywire. I moaned out his name, like a prayer, the knot deepening in my belly. I reached up to grab Soap's hand, hearing him whisper dirty, dark nothings into my ear, but I didn't hear, I didn't care.

All that mattered was Ghost stretching me out with two fingers, his mouth and tongue sucking on my clit, lapping me up like a last meal.

"I can hear your cunt," Soap whispered in my ear. "You're so soaked, I can hear you, princess."

I bit my lip, moaning behind my teeth, squeezing his hand.

"Can you hear yourself?" Soap panted in my ear.

I could. Oh, God, yes I could.

"You should see the way you're desperately moving," he continued, biting my ear. "Letting Ghost finger-fuck that little hole, huh?"

Ghost pulled back, admiring his work. "She's swallowing my fingers like a good girl," he said, he voice wretched, roach. They shared a chuckle, while Ghost still pumped his digits in me, culling a pleasure in my core like never before. "She's letting me stretch her out. So tight, so wet."

His words, so dirty, so unlike him, were bringing me to the edge of insanity.

"Simon, please," I begged.

"Hold her down, Johnny," Ghost said nonchalantly.

Soap took both my wrists in one hand, holding them over my head. I was about to ask why, but I didn't even have the bandwidth to ponder why when Ghost added a third finger into my cunt.

My mouth opened, breath lodged in my lungs. He pumped slower, but still, deep and long strokes, stretching me out completely.

"Fucking hell," Ghost sighed, cooed. I could hear the sloppy sounds of my cunt sucking his fingers, and the mix of pain, of pleasure, of the slick I could feel coating his digits, made my blood sing.

"That's it," Soap whispered. "Relax, princess, shhh." He was petting my hair, kneading my tits, rubbing me until I'd adjusted to Ghost's fingers and he resumed his pace.

I was nearing my own end again, like in the showers, and I wanted that hot, intense pleasure again. I wanted to fling myself off the cliff.

Somehow, Ghost knew, pumping faster, rubbing that spot in me that made stars dance behind my lids. Replacing his tongue with his thumb to rub me faster, harder.

He kissed the inside of my thigh. "Come on, Laura," he grunted. "Cum for me. Cum for me and Johnny." He was panting, kissing my knee, and when he bit into the soft flesh on the inside of my thigh, I broke.

The knot snapped and warm, fuzzy pleasure flooded up my belly. I moaned Simon's name, Soap's. I shuddered against Ghost's hand, squeezing his fingers, gushing on his palm. I heard him swear, heard Soap whisper, "good girl," against my humid hairline.

I was left a twitching mess.

My heart hammered behind my ribs, my palms loosened out of Soap's grip, my arms flapping to my sides. I felt the blood coming back to my head, my lungs burning.

Ghost slipped his fingers out of me. "Fuck, Johnny, look at this perfect little hole."

I heard shuffling, Johnny walking, crouching in front of my bare pussy. I blushed, my cheeks so hot, so warm, I thought I was starting a fever.

I was still sensitive, overly so, when Soap brushed his hands on the inside of my thighs.

"Let me have a taste, sweetheart," Soap groaned, almost pleaded. I couldn't see him. Couldn't know he was already bent in front of me, when he pressed a small, chaste kiss to my clit.

I twitched, moaned pathetically.

"She's already so riled up," I heard Ghost say. Where was he? "She'll cum for us again so quick."

And he was right.

When Soap's kisses turned to long strokes of his tongue, I was already halfway there. I moaned quietly, exhausted, when he spread me open and sucked on my clit, lapping his tongue on me.

My toes were numb, my legs limp, when he plunged his own finger in my wet hole, moaning against me, pumping his finger and licking me to his own rhythm.

It wasn't long until I was trembling, moaning incoherently, begging him. My hands found his Mohawk, holding on, grinding against his mouth until I was cumming on his lips, muttering his name over and over again.

Johnny.

Johnny.

John.

When I was just a numb mess, Soap carefully replaced my panties over my pussy.

And then Ghost was touching me, his rough knuckles on each side of my ribs. Soap left me, cold and shivering.

The cot dipped under Ghost's weight as he bent forward, a knee between my limp knees. He kissed my belly, my sternum, until he was completely over me, a knee on the cot between my legs.

I reached up, touching his bare face. Feeling the stubble under my finger tips. Touching his eyes, his mouth--still wet. I wish I could see him. See what he's feeling, thinking.

"Little dove," he whispered, so low I barely heard him. I didn't know where Soap was, I couldn't feel him anywhere. But I didn't care. I reached up, slowly grasping Ghost's hair, and pulled him down.

I tasted myself on his lips, but it didn't matter. I wanted him close. I needed him close.

Soap too.

I kissed him fervently, parting my lips to let his tongue pet mine timidly. I arched into him, feeling his waist with my knees. He grunted into the kiss, pushing me deeper into the cot.

And then pulled back, gently sitting me up.

Dizzy, I asked, "Soap?" My voice was squeaky, broken.

"Right here, pumpkin," came his soothing, low voice, and he grabbed my jaw, pulling my face up to kiss me. In the dark, behind the blindfold.

He drank me in, kissing me hard, parting my lips forcefully.

And just like Ghost, he pulled back gently. He dragged my bra straps back up, rearranged my bra so I was covered. I felt another pair of hands on my shoulders, and Ghost helped me back into my shirt.

"Looks like we'll be here a while," Ghost said. I was still blindfolded, but I looked up, following his voice. "Let's get some rest, yeah?"

I nodded, feeling his hand wrap around mine. When I got up, Soap's finger grazed my waist, and I realized I wasn't wearing any pants.

But I didn't care. I was so exhausted, so drained from cumming, from having my heart beat so fast for these two men, from breathing so hard I thought my lungs would burst.

The prospect of sleep sounded amazing to my empty, exhausted little head.

"Here," Ghost said. "Lie down." I got to my knees, on the floor, and then felt his hands on my waist, guiding me until I was lying between his legs, back against his chest.

My whole body relaxed instantly, and I curled up against him.

[thisismeracing]

Sorry v mate for blurb night, congrats on reaching ur goal! (Not surprising bc I am obsessed with ur writing, feel like you can see into micks brain and you just write him so perfectly omg)

Blurb req if you’re continuing them (pls don’t feel you have to though!) Mick+ pining + angst bc I hate myself and need more bestie mick and reader who are lovesick and both too scared to say anything 💀

Pining | MS47

⸺ the one where Mick's been pining over Yn forever, and when he finally gets the courage to admit it, she tells him she's dating his best friend (Lance Stroll). ✓ none, I guess.

⁕ one word, a thousand stories blurb night (closed) ⁕ my masterlist and my taglist

Where Mick was shy, Lance was outgoing. Where Mick had attentive but secretive eyes, Lance would spill his soul into each glance. Where Mick was afraid of confessing his love, Lance did not hold back telling exactly how he felt.

That's how Yn found herself threading through new waters. It felt refreshing to be loved openly, to be reassured, treasured.

She was Mick's best friend, just like she was friends with Esteban and Lance, but her friendship with the German was different. It was more. Or it felt like more for her. However, Mick never took the first step, never tried to give her enough to keep her flame, to not kill her faith. She had been pining after him for a long, but for some sick joke of destiny, she could not see him doing the same in his own way. And Yn took each silence of his as Mick's silent message that he did not feel the same when, in reality, it was the opposite.

Mick was head over heels for Yn. In a way, he had never been before. Maybe that's why it took him so long to realize, so long to decide and confess.

"I have something to tell you!" He smiled when Yn walked inside the small driver's room. She was wearing a sundress, and she had never looked so good. Her skin was glowing, and her smile shone as bright as a summer morning.

"Me too!" She closed the gap between them, the tip of their shoes touching.

She was always so affectionate. Always so caring. Always so warm and cheerful.

"On three?" Yn giggled, holding Mick's hand.

He felt his heart beating on his throat, his hands colder than ever, his eyes searching for hers. Though he guessed she liked him, he was still nervous. They were best friends. They were always there for each other. How would this dynamic play out once their feelings were in the open? Mick had spent weeks, almost months chewing this question as if he would come up with a solution, as if destiny didn't play the rhythm it wanted.

You chose the lyrics, but life sometimes decided how it would play, and you could only dance along. That's how it felt once their counting hit three.

"I'm in love with you."

"I'm dating Lance."

― ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: I AM NOW OBSESSED WITH OPEN ENDINGS HAHAHAHAHAH I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED IT!!! Don't forget to reblog and leave me an ask *mwah* also thank you for the compliments, nonny!! I'm really happy you like the way I portray him hihi

[justatalkingface]

Hi there,

I'd love to know your ideas and opinion on Hori going out of his way to make Bakugou the second OFA user as it was shown in the movie. Are you a fan of it?

This post has aged badly because of how long it's been sitting in my inbox, but... well, I was the one who did that, so that's my own fault.

Hahahahahah, yeah, wow, sweet flying fuck no. In a series that has been escalating in how many bad decisions they've made lately, that is one of the worst. More than that, it is telling, in this deeply concerning way, about how little Hori seems to like his own main character.

I've never watched the movie, and I have no desire to, because I'm pretty sure all that'd happen if I did would be me spending the entire movie picking out plot holes than anything, but I have done some basic research on it, and my impression is that it's very... Naruto filler-movie-y, where the protagonists get Random Power up that is basically never spoken of again (note that this is basically official confirmation of Bakugou's promotion), the same general kind of big fight sequence where both of them work together, etc.

It's just... it's just shallow, though, is the thing. At least the filler Naruto movies had the basic decency to make up whatever power up they used and threw away; here Izuku is taking one of the foundational parts of the entire story and just.... giving it away. All of his emotional attachment to it, as a Quirk, as his Quirk, as part of a legacy connecting him to All Might, One For All, and what is singlehandedly keeping him in his current place in society (since at this point he wasn't allowed to be smart anymore), and he just throws it away to Bakugou.

And then, to top it off, it just comes back to him. Some Fucking How(TM). And, because this is, again, one of the foundational parts of the fucking story, that just leaves... so many questions. So many.

Like. If the Quirk could yeet itself from hosts it doesn't like, could AFO ever really take it? Or would it Yeet Thyself from his body, and presumably take a copy of AFO with it in the process (and doesn't that mean, since there was that nod to this happening in canon, that Izuku should have Explosion now? That he literally, by Hori's own logic, has taken that fundamental core of Bakugou's character, and should be in the perfect place to invalidate his entire, badly managed and over all atrocious 'character arc'?).

Really, the more I think on this, the more I realize that that is proof that, not only was Explosion drastically warped to contort to Hori's whims, but so was OFA; OFA, originally, was just supposed to support Izuku, as an assistance to his character, but as time passed, it became clear that that was no longer true, and Izuku only existed to assist OFA. And no, I'm not even talking about the actual person, I'm talking about the set of powers Izuku's entire purpose in the story had been reduced to helping display on demand.

And the fact that, looking at it with that symbolism in mind, that movie's ending was a perfectly horrible encapsulation of what happened in the overall story, of Izuku handing his entire self identity over to Bakugou, for him to take and use however the hell he wanted.

...Fuck, that's depressing. Really, honestly, I wonder why the hell Izuku even exists. Seriously. It's clear that Hori doesn't want him, and he wants all the good Izuku things to go to Bakugou; there's plenty of manga and anime with an asshole of a main character, although a lot of early things would have to be changed to explain how that'd work...

I wonder, but I actually know that answer: beyond needing a more acceptable hero, beyond changing plans, having Bakugou as the focus the way Izuku was would, A, put a spotlight on the traits of him Hori clearly wanted to avoid doing, and B, would put more pressure on Hori to make Bakugou change in way he so clearly wasn't allowed to do, to make the reality of him match up with the narrative version so many people love (You could argue that Izuku, in a similar place, stopped changing after awhile, but at the same time his complete lack of growth is the main reason why the people stopped liking him anymore, because he stopped feeling like a person, and one of the major reasons the second half of the story became so overwhelmingly shit, to the point even people just casually enjoying the story on a surface level read couldn't miss; combining that clusterfuck with Bakugou's shit characterization is probably the only reason Hori didn't just... have Izuku die at some point so Bakugou could flat out replace him, along with shallow nods to their 'rivalry' (like this movie!) to help the story sell).

...I've gotten off topic. So, to sum up: No. No, I hate it, it's terrible, I'm glad I've never had to actually watch it happen.

[fallingyams]

Oh!! Oh!!!!! I forgot to post this sherliam drabble. It's been sitting in my notes for a while, whoops 🤭

Dedicated to the precious people who give me the courage to write. To the silliest duck 🦆, and to the 🙄 angel who haunts my waking moments, you know who you are.

---

William is no stranger to compliments. He’s heard a multitude of them throughout his childhood, and later growing up as the second son of Moriarty. There had been no shortage of nobles seeking to curry favour and lavish him in praises for his looks or intelligence.

This, however, is far different.

It starts out rather innocuously, a simple throwaway comment of, “Good job, Liam,” that Sherlock had made after completing a job together.

William hadn’t expected the heat rushing to his ears, or the catching of his voice as he muttered a quiet thanks and turned away.

Sherlock’s words are different.

He knows for a fact that the other only ever speaks the truth. He has no ulterior motive behind his praise, only stating what he sees as fact.

It rattles William to hear Sherlock call him good.

His words feel like a balm upon his soul.

An ablution for the days where William still feels the scarlet blood sticking to his skin and the desperate hands of victims clinging, clutching, clawing at him.

William’s reaction to praise does not go unnoticed. It is Sherlock, after all.

Of course, Sherlock does occasionally comment on his brilliance, especially after a difficult criminal profiling or a particularly tricky mission. But the praises that linger in his memory are often those quietly pressed into his skin in the silence of the night.

You were good today, accompanies a kiss upon his scar.

I adore your kindness, is a searing brand that Sherly presses into his neck.

Your compassion is boundless, is whispered into his ears as long, violin-callused fingers thread through his hair.

William shivers through each and every one of them, guilt warring against precious relief. Some days, he finds himself unconvinced that a sinner like him deserved such sweet, gentle words. Sherlock can always tell when such thoughts creep into the tension in his back and wordlessly continues his soft ministrations, letting his fingers and lips and eyes demonstrate his devotion in a rite of sanctification.

Sometimes William finds warm tears pooling in the corner of his eyes, Sherlock’s genuine words unwittingly echoing the heartfelt praises from a lifetime ago.

He remembers a sickly Louis gripping his hands tightly in the cold of night, insisting that they share the blanket William had managed to procure. You’ve always had such a selfless heart, brother. 

Sherlock’s compliments bring to mind the image of Albert patting him gently on the head and sneaking him spoils from his rounds through the town. You’re changing many lives, Will. The baker sends his thanks.

William trembles and shakes through silent sobs, allowing these words to wash over him, granting him a brief respite from loathing and despair.

He ought to be used to compliments after a lifetime of hearing them. (Brilliant professor, artful consultant, unrivalled mastermind.)

But only his closest few - Louis, Albert, Sherlock - ever complimented his heart.

---

Hi.

Thanks for reading!

In all honesty the inspiration was "what if Liam had a praise kink" but halfway through it became a bit more emotional HAHAHAHAHAH no idea where the sadness came from but oh well 🤷���♀️

[valiantphantomangel]

What about Bucky coming home and the reader so caught up in a book that they don’t notice him and he sneak attacks? maybe reading belly down on the couch. Thighs being a weak spot? 💕 🥰 💕

It was a peaceful evening, rain softly clattering against the windows. The moon was shining brightly as you were wrapped up in a comfy blanket reading your favorite book as you sip on your hot cup of tea.

You were so into your book that you didn't hear the door opening or the heavy footsteps approaching you from behind. Only when someone wrapped their arms around your waist did you notice them.

"Hello Doll" Bucky said softly as he gave you a kiss on your cheek.

You smiled brightly and immediately put your book down "Bucky"! You exclaimed happily and hugged him tightly.

His deep laugh rumbled against your chest as he hugged you back, suddenly you felt one of his hands trace your ribs and you giggled.

"buck stop ithihihihi" you giggled as you tried to get out of his embrace.

"No can do Doll, i missed your adorable laugh" he chuckled and then jumped over the couch immediately pinning you down cause you were laying on your belly on couch since it was your favorite way to read.

Bucky went for the back of your knees first which had you already howling with laughter.

"HAHAHAHAHAH" you laughed loudly as you try to wiggle free.

He laughed deeply and then began to squeeze your thighs which caused you to kick out your feet.

" there is that adorable laugh of yours" Bucky laughed with you as he scribbles up and down your thighs.

Now this was just torture, he knew that your thighs were you death spot and happily reminded you of that.

"BHAHAHAH WHAT DID I DOHIHI?!"

"Nothing, your just to adorable for your own good" Buck said with a laugh as he continued to attack your thighs "tickletickletickle"

You blushed brightly as he said the tword and laughed your head off.

Eventually your laughing went silent and Bucky smiled fondly as he stopped tickling you and pulled you up so your back was against his chest and his arms wrapped around you in a warm embrace.

"I'm glad you back Buck" you whisper as you snuggle up against him.

"Me too Doll" he whispered back as he played with your hair, you fell asleep peacefully in the arms of the person who mattered the most to you.

Knowing he would always be there for you and you for him.

[awearywritersworld]

HAHAHA ITS 😈 ANON BACK AGAIN WITH ANGST

it's always been interesting that the higher ups are actually actively targeting reader, because I always imagined the curses would hop on ANY chance to get sukuna on their side. AND THE FACT THAT THEY DO - ill bet its a very risky one- WITH READER. LIKE IMAGINE YUUJI COMES HOME FROM A LONG DAY OF KILLING CURSES TO FIND KENJAKU OR MAHITO CHILLING IT UP IN THEIR FLAT? AND POOR READER IS SHAKING LIKE I A LEAF IN THE WIND WITH A 🙂 SMILE ON HER FACE POOR THING. and I don't doubt sukuna could kill them at a seconds notice if he wanted to but he can't stay with her forever, not like he can with yuuji. and if they THREATEN him with his own fingers against him? I CANT IMAGINE THE INTERNAL STRUGGLE HED FACE, BOTH HIS OLD LIFE AND OLD SELF POSSIBLY BEING RESPONSIBLE FOR TAKING THE ONLY THING HE LOVES AWAY FROM HIM

HAHAHAHAHAH SUFFER SUKUNA SUFFER 😈

hello 😈 anon<333 i hope u are well!! im glad to hear from u again :3

i think there's something so interesting abt a non sorcerer!reader interacting with powerful curses. like, you can't sense cursed energy but their evil is so overwhelming that you can still pick up on it.

obviously ur uncomfortable and that would piss sukuna off, but i don't think he could help his own curiosity regarding why they're there. so they'd have a chance to give their two cents

but the second they dare to threaten the only person he loves? using a finger, something that belongs to him, no less????

it would be so fuckin over for them. thinking about the look of unadulterated rage that would cross his features???? phew!!!!

and afterwards he's nervous you're hurt or intimidated, so he cups your face in his big ass hands so gently and checks you over. he'd be so relieved when you rest your own hands on top of his and assure him you're okay

WAAAAAH I NEED HIMMMMMMMMMM

[inkstainedhandswithrings]

TBB s3 ep9 Thoughts!!

I’ll start off by saying this season is my favourite so far. I’m having WAY too much fun with these lololol

Crosshair having a little domestic moment, helping out at Pabu <3

“Does it matter? We’re not handing her over.” Oh, mans is out for blood huh?

The fact that this episode is called “The Harbinger” and then Batcher immediately runs into a cave and gets scared…

This is when the Empire gets to Pabu, isn’t it…

VENTRESS!!!!

AAAAAAHHHHH

Okay so clearly Ventress wants her own little Padawan

But why was that fight sequence so sped up hahahahahah

It was almost comedic

Loved her and Cross fighting though

THE THEME SONG WHEN THEY GRABBED RHEIR WEAPONS

dare i say first time this season? about time

different colour sabres aaaaaa

that’s actually super cool because the colour of your sabre depends on how you connect to the force when you find your kyber crystal and if you wanna change them you have to meditate on them for SO LONG so like Ventress committed to neutrality (gotta read up on her story in legends again, but i know girl went through it)

“You’re being naive.” *slowly turns to him* “bitch say it again”

Love how all of them are standing on the shore watching Omega train

CROSSHAIR ALREADY HAVING HIS RIFLE OUT I AM SCREAMING HAHAHAHAHAH

Cross practically running down the stairs to help Omega into the ship

Also I am already 100% that Ventress and Cross are gonna have a thing

So Omega does have a high M-Count, she just can’t tap into her skills yet?

Interesting

Okay, all in all i really loved this episode! It was fun and relaxed but still somehow a bit plot driven. Here’s the thing though @phantom-of-the-501st correctly pointed out that we’re nearing not just the end of the season but the end of the show. And there are still SO MANY loose ends. Up until last weeks episode all the other eps were very plot driven, and it’s only the last two that felt like filler. I’m thinking the show runners are giving us a quick breather until just full on deep diving into the seasons end with one heart-wrenching episode after the other. That, or they’re going to put more filler episodes in and rush the actual plot, but I'm really hoping it's the first.

also, seriously, what are Rex and Echo cooking that prevents Echo to be in literally all the episodes? are we gonna get a really sad arc here soon? im having a feeling that says yes, echo is gonna give us more drama soon. can't wait 🫠

[shadowcatzone]

okay so we've talked about bio!xingyue child before. You have to imagine this:

Imagine Dan feng and Yingxing hovering (figuratively) around the egg. "It could hatch any minute now!" They'll say. They've been saying that for weeks. Ever since the egg came into existence. They're not letting anyone into the house anymore (a small house they bought close to Dan fengs estate (would you trust the preceptors with an egg??)) And absolutely 0 work is getting done. Unlike in the beginning, they now stare at the egg all day (figuratively), what can you do.

Then one day the egg cracks. More and more. Until a piece of eggshell falls out. You know the old men are losing their minds at this point. From within the egg, they can hear a mix between chirping and crying. They help the child out of the egg. It's a newborn! With vidyadhara ears and a short tail (about as long as a newborn baby -short) and tiny tiny nubs on their head. Their eyes are closed still. A bath and a clothing session later, the child is lying in a wicker basket, Yingxing in the kitchen, Dan feng watching over their kid.

He pokes their cheek after yingxing brought tea for the two. The baby is not amused. Though their tiny hand wraps around Dan fengs finger and something changes. A strange feeling the high elder never had before. Yingxing needs to do a double take as the first tear rolls off Dan fengs cheek, it crystallizes before dropping on the tiny blanket. "Love, is everything alright??" "No... they're so beautiful... i'm- i can't..." there's now exactly one(1) thing the high elder loves more than Yingxing. Yingxing doesn't mind, and moves over to- maybe console his husband??

They spent three days in complete seclusion. So much so that the remaining hcq wonders if they "left" (nonono, not on this post, haha) before eventually returning to (semi-)normal life with a nonchalant "oh, yeah, by the way, the baby hatched three days ago." "WDYM THREE DAYS AGO!??" auntie baiheng is the most disappointed that they didn't tell her immediately. But they're all very pleased to find out that the baby has heterochromatic eyes and therefore both of their parents eye colors.

Dan feng is literally the worse parent because it's his child (only secondary yingxings) and he will spoil them way too much. "I'm their parent too, and i think you should-" "excuse me, did you lay the egg??" Usually the end of all arguments from that point onward. ("You can't always work-" "did you lay an egg?" "WHAT DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH ANYTHING??" "DID YOU OR DID YOU NOT?)

Ahem.

They do feed them every 4-6 hours, but their child isn't particularly vocal about food (unless they wait the full 6 hours, which is when the baby starts babbling (upsetly) but not crying or screaming just yet.

Dan feng loves this child so much. Until it gets disgusting. They were already chewing on his fingers (without teeth) whenever they could. One time they gripped into the tip of Dan fengs tail and- well, Yingxing had to not only console a very upset toddler, but also a very upset high elder. They did rip out a chunk of hair(fur? Feather?) From his tail as their prize. But as soon as they start crawling, they put everything into their mouth.

Truly terrible times come upon them when their child's horns break through, closely followed by their teeth. There is no sleep on the luofu. Never has been, never will be, ever again. This is when they decide to care for the baby in shifts. But they still love their child, of course. They just wish it was not in pain and maybe a little bit quieter.

_____

1.i love that we all simultaneously agree that dan feng can't cook. He's the high elder, what use is cooking to him (hahahahahah)

2.sometimes you find something so beautiful that your brain just. Melts for a minute. Specifically when babies are involved-

3.this was only supposed to be the reaction of dan feng upon interacting with his child for the first time. Consider the rest bonus material.

[ask-emilz-de-philz]

I gotta ask, for research purposes *ehe*

aka I want to cook (write) fight fics huhuhu

How do Tamawos fight? Like, using claws ba? Does Biringan City have laws or nah? Coz if not, Tamawos can just smack and kill others they have beef with?

Not that I worry about the Tamawo bros, coz Makisig is stronger from the Dalakitnon's influence and Maliksi is the fastest...

(( Oho yes! 🥺🥺🥺🥺👏👏👏

It's such a spoiler, but I'll eventually post about it.

Basically, Tamawos used to be Warrior-like till ehem.

Anyway, Maliksi fights with speed. So his attacks are light but goes for vital points. He relies on his , as Makisig would call it, ''unfair'' tactics, taunts and claws. He once fought Lakas (Tikbalang) before. Nanalo yung si Bibilo o di ba hahah. Nakakahiya sa part ni Lakas. He holds back on humans most of the time if he needs to fight them thus that one part where he just threw down Anon via punch lol. His downside is that he can either be really cocky or impatient, since he wants things done immediately so that could cloud his judgement. However if di talaga kaya, he knows when to back down.

Makisig, on the other hand, has still retained his knowledge of fighting with different weapons. His hand-to-hand combat is akin to that of the ancient fighting style Yaw-Yan which relies on legs, so is it leg to leg combat? Hahah anyway, since his boost in strength (Dalakitnon influence) he can smash mortal heads into walls like a pulp as if a ten-wheeler ran your head over kind. His downside is that if he's too much into it, he develops a bloodlust. Kind of something he developed back then (bad tamawo history in their tribe). So he holds back all of the time or as much as possible. ))

(( disclaimer: for those who are doubting, pls be informed yet again that I'm taking my own creative freedom in writing these characters and stories. So pls, we're talking mythical on mythical here. X'D don't take my info too seriously. just think anime lang HAHAHAHAHAH char char and chuva chuva ))