#Thinner gender

[terms-made-by-toons]

Could I please request a gender relating to thinner, from Epic Mickey?

The term is very lose, please do whatever you think would fit best! A /suggestion/ would be a lack of gender that feels as though something had been there before, but got destroyed.

Thank you, if you do make it ^^

-Vincent, this is our main blog (can't ask things from a sideblog)

Here’s what I came up with!

🧪 Thinner Gender !

Thinner gender is a when you feel like you once had a gender / different gender, but that it’s been destroyed over time, or removed (this can also mean your general rejection of gender)

In which results in a lack of gender

-

About the flag:

the Neon Green drips and neon green stripe is (obviously) meant to be thinner

(inspired by epic Mickey but relating to this gender doesn’t mean you relate to that game specifically, simply the concept presented)

The inclusion of the greenish-white stripe is inspired from the Agender flag, but can also be representative of lacking gender

While the last three stripes, Blue descending into black is the destruction, loss or removal of gender you once had

-

@radiomogai

[bumpscosity]

i forgot to post it but i draw my smp character again yippeeeee

[thehungerforfanfiction]

Genderbent Fem!Silas !!

I love my baby boy Silas, but I may have... Projected a little... Just a bit...

[officialspec]

so like, depictions of androgyny generally fall between two categories ive been calling gender minimalism and gender maximalism:

gender minimalism tends to be the go-to for modern nonbinary characters in particular and leans towards soft-masc anime twink androgyny, where as many traditionally gendered traits as possible have been stripped from a characters design

gender maximalism on the other hand is more common in older media, usually to depict someone as a hedonist or otherwise outside the norm, and involves just putting as many overtly gendered characteristics on a character as possible

theres been a move away from gender maximalism since nb presence in media started being more positive, primarily because a lot of people associate those visuals with more derogatory depictions and dont want to fall back on bad stereotypes - which is fair. i also think the prevalence of gender minimalism promotes a very thin, young, white and afab-centric idea of androgyny that harms people through idealisation

theres a whole other conversation about ‘good representation’ vs ‘resonant representation’ and how the sanitisation of marginalised identities in media for the purposes of palatability to the masses just leads to hollow, beautiful vessels with no substance behind them but this post is too long already. basically i just think people need to be less afraid to get weird with it

dose anyone want to hear my very surface level analysis of androgyny in media

[terms-made-by-toons]

First post!!

A set of Xenogenders both based on Epic Mickey!

Storm Blot - a gender related to the unused enemy the storm blot, where your gender feels represented by it along with blotings and the general dark theming of Epic mickey

There can be association with Rabbits / Oswald the lucky rabbit!

Thinner Mouse - a gender related to the unused Route / appearance known as “Scrapper mickey”, where your gender feels represented by it along with Ink dripping from your body and the general dark theming of Epic mickey

There can be association with Mice / Mickey Mouse!

[these-lovely-monsters]

Tentacles Under The Bed - Part 4

[NSFW | 18+]

Characters: gn!tentacle monster x f!reader

Content: tentacles, eldritch monster, blow job, deep throating

A/N: If you were missing the tentacle smut in part 3, don't worry, I got you :)

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

⋆ ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ⋆

Smiling faintly, you give Karl another kiss, lingering a bit longer this time. After a moment, you feel its mouth part and something soft and wet strokes against your lips. Realizing that it's Karl’s tongue, you open for it. It immediately dives in, curling and twisting around your own tongue.

You groan softly at the sensation and return its strokes with licks of your own. Even though you can’t get too close to Karl’s mouth for fear of its razor sharp teeth, you’re perfectly happy with this alternative version of a kiss. 

Deciding to be a little bold, you wrap your lips around Karl’s tongue and suck gently. Suddenly, a melodic humming sound fills the room and it takes you a moment to realize that the noise is coming from Karl. This must be its sound of pleasure and it’s strangely beautiful.

Pulling back to catch your breath, you place your hand on Karl to keep it from chasing your mouth. You’re surprised to find that its surface is spongy and soft but solid. Not at all what you expected from its goo-like appearance.

“No. Give me more, my little delicacy.” Karl protests.

Laughing, you reply, “I guess you like that, huh? We can do more of that soon but I…” You fidget with your hands, unsure how to ask for what you want. “I want to touch you. To…make you feel good like you did for me.”

Karl perks up at that. “You want to touch me?”

“Yeah, if that’s alright with you?”

Without replying, Karl leans back and you watch as a vertical slit opens in the lower middle portion of its body. A new, lighter colored tentacle emerges from the gap and sways in the air in front of you. In addition to the color, this tentacle is different from the others. It’s smaller and thinner than the rest and it has no suckers lining it. The end is also slightly enlarged in a club shape rather than a tapered point.

It almost reminds you of one of the fantasy dildos you’ve been wanting to buy online and you blush again. At the thought, you realize that you’re not actually sure what gender Karl is so you ask awkwardly, “Karl, is that a—is this your…?”

“This is how we transfer sperm to another for procreation—a penis as you would call it. But each of our kind has both reproductive organs.” It says as it waves its new tentacle in the air.

"Oh, I mean—then what are your pronouns?"

“My species does not have the concept of gender. Whatever you would like to call me is fine.”

“Ok so is ‘they/them’ alright?”

“Ye—yes” Karl stutters out as you reach down and stroke a finger along their cock, finding it slick and moist. You wrap your hand around their length and pump up and down once. The humming sound fills the room again and you smile at their obvious pleasure.

For a few minutes, you continue to stroke their cock, squeezing harder and increasing your pace. Using your other hand, you reach down and tease your fingers along the slit around the base of their cock. They shudder in response and the humming increases in volume.

Wanting to give them even more, and maybe selfishly wanting a taste for yourself, you drop down to your knees on the soft plush carpet.

“What are you—” They don’t manage to get anything else out as you tentatively lick at the club-shaped tip. The slick substance coating their cock is sweet and creamy, almost like vanilla frosting. The humming stutters at the action and you do it again, surprised but delighted at the odd flavor. Noticing a small slit on the tip, you probe it with your tongue and the hum deepens.

As you lick and suck at the tip, you continue to stroke and tease the rest of their cock with your hands. When a clear glittering substance begins to well in the slit, you lap it up eagerly, the taste of vanilla bursting on your tongue. You moan in pleasure at the deliciously sweet flavor and dive back in for more.

Eventually, once you’ve become more comfortable with this new cock, you open your mouth and take it as far in as it will go. Hollowing your cheeks, you suck hard as you bob your head up and down while swirling your tongue along the underside.

“Yes,” Karl’s voice echoes in your mind, more guttural now. “Let me have more.”

Before you can ask what they mean, a tentacle wraps around the back of your head as they hold you in place while their cock slides down into your throat. You gag at the intrusion, wanting to pull away, but a part of you loves that they’re taking control like this. You brace your hands on their soft body for support and try to relax, letting them have their way with you.

They pull out again, allowing you to breathe for a moment before shoving back in even deeper this time. As they fuck your mouth, going deeper with each thrust, another tentacle wraps around your neck. They don’t squeeze though and you realize that they’re feeling the bulge of their cock as it slides in and out.

Wetness is dripping between your thighs at being used as a fuck toy for this giant tentacle monster and you squirm, trying to find some relief. But you’re determined to give Karl their pleasure this time so you just squeeze your thighs together and enjoy the erotic scene.

Tears are streaming down your face from fighting the gags wanting to climb up your throat and snot is pouring from your nose. You probably look like a mess but you don’t care as long as Karl doesn’t stop. Noticing the wetness on your face, they reach up with a tentacle and gently rub at the moisture on your skin. Another tentacle reaches up and traces the edge of your lips which are stretched wide around its cock.

“I do not want to see you cry but I love the taste of your tears.”

Moaning at their words, you swallow convulsively. The humming noise intensifies with a new, much deeper, thrumming sound that harmonizes with the melodic notes. When you feel Karl’s cock begin to swell, the sounds filling the room speed up and you think they might be close.

Within a few moments, their thrusting becomes jerky until they stop fully, holding their cock deep inside your throat. It suddenly starts undulating and you feel a thick, cool substance sliding down your esophagus and filling your stomach. It feels as if it goes on forever until finally the humming subsides and Karl gently eases themself from inside you.

Slumping back, you cough and wipe at your wet cheeks. Your throat is raw and your underwear is completely soaked but you’re entirely satisfied at getting to do something for Karl this time.

They reach out tentatively to stroke your neck and ask softly, “Did I hurt you?”

Smiling, you place a hand on their tentacle and squeeze gently. “No, I liked that a lot. Was it…ok for you?”

“Yes my sweet. It was the most exquisite thing I have ever experienced aside from watching you come apart on my tentacles.”

⋆ ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ⋆

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

taglist: @blushycadaver @pearlofrose @gothicsugarslvt

[ozzgin]

We have yandere school,, but what about yan! Restaurant? 👀

You've only ever visited this particular restaurant once, but the food was just so good that you can't help but come back from time to time! And, oh.. The workers and manager there can't help but favor you a lot more than the rest ♡

I'm not sure if you meant it in the sense that the restaurant is a regular, normal business, and the staff became obsessed with you, or if the restaurant is quite literally advertised as a yandere service. I went for the latter, for the memes. Content: gender neutral reader, parody?, horde of (adult) yanderes

Yandere!Restaurant provides you with an extensive list of employees to choose from. From grey-haired and soft-spoken, to brash and youthful; the restaurant guarantees you will find your matching server within their impressive catalog.

Alright, where is the menu? Most customers are indeed taken aback when presented with a leather-bound book of blank pages. The gesture is quickly followed by a second, much thinner folder: a questionnaire, and an agreement to be stalked.

You see, Yandere!Restaurant has a particular modus operandi - you provide them with the basics: your full name and date of birth. Everything else will be uncovered by the yandere themselves. Once they have found you, the true serving process begins.

The first part is always the longest, hence their recommendation to book months in advance if you're a new customer. It's the research phase. Your chosen server will follow you around and gather all the needed information.

"No, thank you, it's too sweet for me", you tell a friend offering you some of their snack. From within the shadows, a cloaked figure scribbles down furiously.

The second and final phase is your usual dining experience. You are seated at the table and presented with your dishes. They have been carefully curated to match your taste in that very moment. Maybe you'd recently hoped you could eat your childhood favorite again. Maybe you'd seen a social media post about a trending dessert, and wished to try it out yourself. No matter the reason, know that it has been skillfully uncovered by your loyal server.

"This is..."

You gasp quietly and cover your mouth with a napkin. The taste is exquisite, filling you with a wave of nostalgia. How did they know? This is exactly what you wanted.

Why, of course. It was made with utmost love and attention. Won't you visit them again, (Y/N)?

[More Yandere Scenarios]

[griffinborn]

Ok I get where everyone is coming from when they see the design of Pavitr ‘Pav’ Prabhakar aka Indian SpiderMan as an expression of gender queerness, but let me be frank this is very typical Indian male costuming.

Even the toxic masculine patriarchal men have similar stylistic expressions or to be be more precise this is a traditional/historical/ye olde male aesthetic.

Having said that I love what design elements are being used here. So…

Let's take it from the top.

The FACE MASK

The Three Colors surrounding the eyes are typical spider man colours but they are done to evoke the image the traditional makeup done for the ancient dance art Kathakali. In which the whole face is painted and bold lines are drawn to emphasise/exaggerate the eyes. These eye mask lines are usually thin - bold-thin.

Same with the white lines on the cheek bones which are indicative of tusks or pincers of demons or Animorphs in folklore/myths.

The white dot in the centre of the forehead is the most common Hindu motif, expressed in myriad of ways all over the country .

The ARM/LEG BANDS/CUFFS

The bicep cuff is a part of Indian historic armour - made of malleable metal, its bejewelled ornate counterparts were then worn in day to day life. Here in the north Royals still wear it during big ceremonies. These metal bands are generally worn by warriors.

bangles (metal circles worn at wrists) are an important male accessory and are more daily wear even in present modern times, some religions (Sikh,Jain etc.) require the males to always wear one at all times. The ones on the suit were more in the shape of wrist guards which again were an armour accessory. In Indian male clothing the cuffs are usually emphasised.

Due to traditional male footwear being sandals metal ankle cuffs were employed to guard the shins and were worn during wars while thinner bands - ornamental accessories - were worn in daily wear.

There are so many other things I want to elaborate on like: The PATTERNS/LOGO,The LEG GARMENT (??!)(what’s the collective term for clothes for legs?), The Cat’s Cradle swinging/body animation ; but my ADHD is already acting up so imma leave this here.

SIDE NOTE:

I love how the heel and toes are bare in this design. It makes sense from the spider powers perspective - no barrier in contact allows for better manoeuvring and jump control as is seen in gymnastics. But also because in Hindu culture important tasks including some traditional sports require the removal of footwear and getting feet dirty is not discouraged (of course with an adherence to washing of the feet multiple times in a day)

I also loved how incorporated his wrist guard is in his spider style using it as a toy and a tool. This aspect of making use of something in a completely different way was so desi ‘Jugaad’ I was stunned.

[namedaftercommunists]

'Promise? Pt. 2' Daisuke (Mouthwashing) X Reader

[Story takes place after he boarded the Tulpa] [Angst] [Platonic and-or Romantic] [Gender Neutral Reader] [Mentions of Suicide] “Hey.” A voice calls out, slowly rousing you awake, your eyes are heavy -as if they weren’t actually open.

“Wakey -wakey.” The voice calls out again, the hand petting your hair slowly registering on your mind. With a small turn to lie on your back, you’re greeted with the familiar beauty mark-laden face of Daisuke a boyish grin on his face as he looks down on you.

“Mornin’” He jokingly greets with a small chuckle -the open, chilly night sky right behind him. It’s a shame the city lights drowned out the twinkling stars above.

You let out a tired groan at this -burying your face in his lap again, making Daisuke pout as you try to undo his progress in waking you up.

“Oh come on.” Daisuke half-heartedly complains before turning you on your back again. “My legs are asleep -get up.” He whines out a complaint.

You only feign deafness to this though, and it isn’t until he takes off the jacket you drape yourself with do you let out your own whine of complaint - the air pricks at your skin.

“Put it back.” You groan out -too stubborn to take your head off his lap. “Get up.” He repeats with an exasperated tone before threatening to push you off to the rooftop pavement below you with a soft shove.

This finally gets you to move, but not without grumbling your complaints under your breath. He only chuckles at this.

“Your hair is a mess.” Daisuke comments with a laugh, before taming your hair with hands. “Like you didn’t make this mess in the first place.” You say with a scoff and a tired roll of your eyes, knowing full well it’s his petting that got your hair sticking out all over in the first place.

“Give me back my jacket.” You grumble out, snatching the jersey off his shoulder. “‘Your’ jacket?” Daisuke parrots back with a knowing, boyish grin.

“Technically mine. I wear it more than you do.” You say with a cheeky shrug and grin, wearing his old jersey -only a size too big on you. If anything -it just added to the look you were going for.

“Sure it is.” Daisuke sarcastically says with his own chuckle, the feeling on his legs coming back as you sit beside him on the rooftop.

There’s a short comfortable silence between you two -as you both look at the city ‘view’. There’s not much to see really, just the side of other buildings with advertisement boards and flyers pasted over the aging concrete walls. It’s a view you both had long familiarized yourself with and grew to see change over the years.

“I missed you,” Daisuke says, his voice soft as he leans his side to yours. To say you’re confused by this is an understatement. You just saw each other yesterday, right?

For some reason though, you can’t physically bring yourself to ask what he means by that. So you stay silent, leaning back on his slightly taller frame.

That’s weird -why does he feel thinner? You were sure he gained a fair bit of muscle over the years -not lose them.

“Like, I missed you....a lot.” He continues -his hand now slowly creeping up to intertwine with yours. It was cold, his hand was cold. Colder than it should be -even with the chilly night air pricking the both of you.

Something in your gut tells you to not look back at him -to continue looking at the aging city walls and dim city light in front of you. To keep your eyes ahead, and not on Daisuke. Not on the man you basically grew up with. He seems to breathe a sigh of relief at this.

“You were right.” He says once more, and it sounds as though his voice is slowly getting drowned out by the noise of city engines and machinery from below.

Finally, you will your mouth to move and have your voice cut through the air. “About what?” You ask, confused, your hand tightening around his. It feels bonier.

Dread creeps up your spine.

“About me dying up there.”

~

“I told you.” You barely croak out, the words heavy, cracked, and hoarse from all the crying you’ve been doing this week. Your body feels weak. It's a miracle you managed to get up from bed, dress yourself, and even stand right now.

Your mouth reeks of tobacco -and it tastes like it too. You’ve long since gone back to smoking real cigarettes. There’s no one to nag you about it anymore -so what’s the point in sucking on a cleaner alternative when you can get the real thing.

You can’t bring yourself to look down on what you’re holding onto, the hand in yours is bony, cold, and lifeless.

There’s a picture of a younger Daisuke on top of the casket glass. It’s a picture his parents vehemently hated before -despite it being his formal graduation photo.

Daiuke’s cap was tilted, and the tassel was already moved to the other side. He sported an outgrown mullet in the picture -it’s a look he liked but you found stupid. His next haircut was better -at least, by your standards.

Despite his parents hating the picture from before, they can’t help but feel it encapsulated -him- best.

They didn’t want to put up the picture of him in the suit he wore to his aunt’s wedding -looking uncomfortable and out of his element despite looking formal and proper.

You can’t help but agree with the decision.

“Am I being selfish?” You softly ask, and no one answers.

“I don’t want to look at you.” You continue, still holding onto the bony hand you only found by softly patting around the cushion of his casket.

“I don’t want to look at you.” You repeat with a choked sob -tears pricking at your eyes, a familiar feeling now.

From what the other guests, his parents, and yours said -you know it’s not a pretty sight. Not that a dead person was ever pretty to look at.

You know he’s lost weight, that much is obvious with how the bones of his knuckles were protruding from his hand. He barely had any meat, his body was reduced to that of skin and bones.

You didn’t know anything more -not that you want to. You walked away the moment you heard anyone start to describe his body.

You didn’t want to look down. To look down at who is -was- essentially your best friend, your other half, and see something -someone- you don’t recognize.

You were selfish. You wanted to remember him as the cute boy you grew up with all this time, with that lopsided grin and warm brown eyes looking into yours -skin pink and warm with life, with beauty marks on his face that you almost always stared at.

You didn’t want to see him for the dead body that he is now. The last thing you wanted was to replace the image of smiling, laughing Daisuke with the image of his corpse.

“They’re going to bury you in a bit.” You say, and again, no one answers.

“I got you some things to entertain yourself with.” You continue, slipping a catalog of the latest game releases, his vintage mp3 player, headphones, and finally -the notebook you’ve been writing on every day he was up in the Tulpa- next to him.

It’s a thick, bulky notebook -you never seemed to get enough of writing on its pages, not wanting Daisuke to miss out on any details, no matter how small.

“I’m still halfway through yours.” You admit, still rubbing your thumb on the bone of his knuckles.

“I’ll visit your senior sometime. He’s getting buried a few cities away from here.” You say, regarding the bulky, grumpy mechanic -Swansea- he almost always wrote nicely about.

A short silence deafens you, before finally, the dam in your eyes erupts -tears staining your face once more.

“I hope I get to see you again.” You choke out, holding onto his hand so desperately, as if you could squeeze back some warmth, some life, back into his body.

“I -really- hope I get to see you again.” You repeat, hiccuping, and your breath laboring.

“I don't care where or how, but I need to beat you black and blue --for getting on that ship.” You say with a cracked laugh, your breath getting caught in between each sob you let out.

“--for leaving me behind.” You finally cry out, forced to lean on the white casket you had the misfortune and privilege of decorating -per the request of his parents.

You’re allotted a few more moments with him before you’re finally ushered away by your father, the sound of Daisuke’s mother wailing and crying in his casket replacing yours.

It’s cold out, and Daisuke’s ship diary weighs heavily in your coat pocket -but so does the gun on your side. It’s anybody’s guess which one you’ll grab for in your bedroom tonight.

[pigeon-dyke]

Every once in a while, I have this fantasy where suddenly, magically, every single person in the world is made into their exact, idealized form.

For the majority of people, itd be small changes. Maybe thinner, maybe larger, taller, shorter, curvier, ect.

For some folks, it'd be as simple as an instant gender change.

But then, for probably a larger group than you'd expect, things would get wild. There would be giants and tinies, anthro animal folk, kaiju, slimes, robots, plushes, mythical creatures, ect.

And I specifically think about that point, where everyone in the world realizes that they're seeing each other's "true" forms, no matter how strange or subtle. And I think about the understanding between everyone, where they'd know that even if you've become a completely different creature, you're happy. And it's you.

I'd like to think that everyone would respect each other's new forms. That feels hopeful, but I'd want it to be true.

Then I imagine the feeling of being myself. A short, roundish, fluffy pigeon. I can probably still talk, but making coos is much more comfortable. Maybe I still have hands at the ends of my wings, maybe i use my feet for things.

But people would look at me, and no matter how strange i seem, they'd know it was truly, actually me.

[ihopeinevergetsoberr]

Who says I’m sharing that bath with you?

female anatomy for reader (no use of y/n, gender-neutral pronouns)

nsfw, fluffy smut basically word count: 1900~ english is not my first language. if you spot any mistakes (especially grammar ones), any typos/misspelled words, or if you have any advice for me in general: please let me know. reblogs and comments are highly appreciated.

art cr: @arcanescribbles

"Have some mercy on yourself," you mumble, wrapping an arm around his slender waist, and its thinness has you puzzled and somewhat concerned again. He doesn't hesitate. Allows you to place that weary head on his shoulder, to nuzzle into the crook of his neck — a pleasant relief in the guise of your heat, of rhythmic breath tickling his slimline skin.

"You can't work that much,” you remind him, trying to hide your evident worry behind a light-hearted chuckle.

“Have you ever heard of a proper greeting?” Viktor quirks an eyebrow, and his deft hand quickly grabs yours to do a thing that never fails to make your heart shrink: has you melting at the feeling of his dry, warm lips on your knuckles yet again.

“Hug is a proper greeting,” you protest with a slightly offended scoff, burying your nose into the gorgeous mess of his hair — all unkempt strands and a sturdy scent of something pleasant, yet not exactly definable.

“Not when it comes with scolding,” Viktor releases your hand, the touch of his lips lingering on your skin, and he turns around, forcing you to break the embrace for a second — which you do reluctantly. But now you get to face him, and it certainly feels like a much bigger win.

A win and another reason to give him a lecture. Viktor initiates eye contact, runs a hand along the perfect curve of your hips, hoping that his gentle touch is a good enough distraction from his terribly deep eye-bags — so treacherously confirming your concerns about his sleep schedule (or the lack of such, to be precise).

"You've gotten thinner," you state with a sad frown, looking Viktor up and down. "And you need a nap," you continue, tangling two fingers into his hair. "And a bath.”

“I’ve missed you terribly, and that’s the first thing you mention when I finally have you in my arms?” Viktor cooes, staring at you with a guilty smile — your love-sick genius, always exhausted yet so unexplainably handsome in his own special way.

You scoff again, wrapping your arms around his neck and gently pressing him against the desk — a small gesture of care that allows his body better support without the cane.

“Have you eaten today?” you carefully ask, watching his expression closely.

“Maybe,” he grudgingly answers, and his amber eyes are lancing right through you in the dull light of his lab — tired, attentive, pretty.

“I don’t like that answer." Your voice is a sweet purr against his skin, and he winces as you slide a hand down his chest, fixing his vest for him.

“You’re being incredibly annoying today,” he informs you, pressing a quick peck to your lips. A brief one, barely palpable, too fleeting to give you a proper taste. “Perhaps I should appease you.”

“If you want to appease me, a kiss like that won’t do.”

“Demanding, are we?” He quirks an eyebrow, casually sitting down at his desk, squeezing your waist in a playful attempt to pull you onto his lap. But you don’t move an inch. Not until he kisses you properly, at least.

He gets the hint. Gently grabs your chin, pressing your noses together — kissing the right way this time, deep and slow, with his tongue brushing your bottom lip before slipping into your open mouth — it’s almost lewd when that small motion steals a surprised moan out of you. A kiss of a hungry, fervently missing his lover man. Your man.

“Better?” His question is rhetorical at this point. He knows he left you amazed and dizzy once again — your messy breath is giving it all away. But Viktor wouldn’t be Viktor if he hadn’t asked. The incorrigible tease at his best behavior.

“Much better.”

You give him the reassurance he’s been seeking, adding the missing touch to this affectionate gesture by nuzzling into his embrace, and he hums, satisfied with the solace you’ve brought him so easily with the mere power of your presence.

“So… is my darling appeased now?”

“Relatively.” You laugh, and a self-assured smirk plasters smugly across his face. “It won’t save you from having dinner with me tonight though.”

“Is that so? Well, I appreciate the effort, and the fact that you came here just to visit your sick, touch-starved man, but I’m afraid I still have work to do—“

“I’m not here just to visit you,” you cut him off, as one of your hands slips off his neck straight to cup his sharp knee. “I’m here to collect you. I’m stealing you home with me.”

“Oh no.” He cracks an exaggeratedly offended expression, but judging from the still present on his face grin — he’s actually rather pleased with your intentions. “Being abducted definitely doesn’t sound appealing to me at all.”

“That’s right.” You nod, nudging him softly. “I’ll even hold you hostage if that’s what it takes to bathe you and get you into bed.”

“But what a horrific torture!” he pulls away, slamming a hand against his chest with a low giggle — it lands on his sternum with a muffled slap, right where his thudding heart is. “How ever will I survive that?”

“I believe your fate is inevitable, so you better just accept it.”

“How unfortunate,” he murmurs, pulling you closer, and you gasp, allowing him to lay his cheek against your chest. “Can’t wait to end up in that bath with you,” he whispers, and you hitch in breath, your shaky hands stop massaging his scalp.

“Who says I’m sharing that bath with you?” you tease light-heartedly, feeling his grip tighten around your waist.

“Me.” His response is firm and simple, yet still maddening enough for you to go weak in the knees. Apparently, his nap is being delayed again.

***

Bath with Viktor is a death sentence — a long and squirming one, of countless orgasms and moans loud enough to wake up the whole Piltover. You tried, you really did, to talk him out of it, to make him wait until at least after dinner, but he’s stubborn and knows damn well that you can’t resist him. So all your warnings about how he needs some rest first were muffled mercilessly by his tongue buried deep inside you. At this point, you’re not even sure whether he’s really that into devouring you, or if he’s just trying to prove you wrong, to show you that he’s never tired when it comes to eating you out.

He has you sitting on the edge of the bathtub, legs resting on his covered in crescent nail marks shoulders, and you tug, tug, tug on his hair as he tongue-fucks you through yet another insane release. If only he could smile right now, which was obviously impossible in his position, he would definitely give you the most provoking signature smirk. So you mentally thank his passion for giving head, since it’s the one to blame for his inability to destroy you even more with those grins and his witty dirty-talk right now. He has you right where he wants you: with your thighs wrapped tightly around his head, with your slick getting quite literally everywhere — his tongue, his chin, some on his chest, even. And when you slam your head against the wall, light-headed and breathless, he knows it’s time to do a particularly vicious thing — to suck on your abused clit so hard he might as well just suck the damn soul out of you while he’s at it.

Too much. Overwhelmingly so. And those sweat drops forming on his forehead, and the way he digs his wet fingers into the soft flesh of your legs, and the way he laps up so thoroughly—

“Gonna cum.” You gather the last strengths in your possession to mumble an illegible warning and the skillful bastard between your thighs only picks up pace, leaving you wondering how his tongue is still intact after all that frantic motions inside your cunt. But the technique is rather impressive. You stare at him, wide-eyed and with your lower lip bitten. His sinful gaze meets yours with a guttural rattle when you grip a strand of his dark hair so hard your knuckles turn white. You want to tell him how good his mouth feels, how indescribably hot he looks kneeling in the bathtub, how attractive his skin glistens right now, in the warm water. But the words are unnecessary. Your precious cussing as you come undone on his agile tongue is the best existing compliment to him.

So you deliver. He coaxes the third orgasm out of you. Leaves you throbbing, making one of your shaking legs slip off his slick shoulder into the water with a loud splash. He licks the remnants of you tauntingly slow off his swollen lips, watching your every convulsion closely, and he’s so proud of himself that it almost re-turns you on all over again.

“Look at you.” His sultry whisper reminds you that his ability to be a smartass is back.

“Viktor—“ You suffocate, grabbing his shoulder to hold on for dear life, so you don’t fall out of the tub completely. He chuckles, carefully pulling you back into the water, thoughtful as always, like the gentleman he is. Well, if rearranging your guts with that tortuous tongue and thick cock could be considered something gentlemen do, of course.

He tastes like you now. His tongue is somewhat sour, much puffier in comparison to yours, and it’s not that animate anymore — he pushes it into your mouth rather lazily, evidently worn out by the intercourse.

“I thought the purpose of this bath was to get me cleaned, not dirty,” he whispers with a filthy giggle, wiping your slick off his chin. You roll your eyes, admitting that the single thing stopping you from biting him for that joke is a complete lack of energy. Admitting that he’d just one-upped every single man you've slept with before. Once again.

“Oh, fuck you.” You giggle back, nuzzling into his chest, and it feels so gentle — the lust is gone and the only thing left between you two is pure affection; divine, immaculate, expressed through the softness of your body and the sharpness of his.

“I would be a liar if I said it doesn’t sound tempting, but I don’t believe you’re in a state to do that, my love,” Viktor teases, but you don’t talk back. He left you witless. Too fucked out for your own liking and just perfect for his. “Do you think you can make it to the kitchen?” he asks, pointing at your wobbly legs.

“Yeah.” You hesitate for a second, reluctant to get out of the warm bath. “And you?”

“Oh, I’m not hungry.” Viktor shakes his head, and his response dramatically increases your urge to pinch him. That wasn’t the deal!

“No. Not a chance, you’re not skipping dinner again.”

“But I’ve already had dinner. Well. In a way,” he whispers, as the corners of his mouth curl into another insufferable smirk, and it takes a good ten-second uncomfortable pause for you to understand the pun.

“Eating pussy is not an actual meal,” you frown, pulling away.

“And that’s so unfortunate, don’t you think? At least that way, I’d never skip them…”

“Viktor!”

[themultifanshipper]

Pretty Girl

Warnings: reader can be any gender, Oscar gets fucked with a dildo, also feminizing him to filth, anal, fingering, excessive lube, cum stuff, spit 

EOC Masterlist

“You want me to fuck this pretty pussy?” 

Oscar whined into the pillows and you could see his cock leaking onto the sheets from where it was hanging between his spread thighs . 

“S'not a pussy!” he gasped into the pillows. 

“It's not? Then why is it so wet?” 

Walking in on your teammate in lingerie was not something you ever expected to do. But you did, and that is how you found out he was very in touch with his feminine side. 

And that led to a certain level of comfort around each other. And you learned that he liked wearing pretty lace, and skirts in his free time. 

He thought you were going to hate him, or be disgusted, but you actually found yourself becoming incredibly horny whenever you thought about it. 

Oscar in his apartment, wearing slutty little skirts. 

So you'd made a habit of dropping by his apartment in the evenings, just to have a drink and decompress from the day's work and stress. 

And then Oscar's skirts had gotten shorter, and the lace thinner, until he'd been forced to admit he wanted you.  

You'd given in so easily it was pathetic. 

But not more pathetic than the was he'd always just lay there and let you do absolutely anything you wanted with him. 

Tonight, he had his ass up, and it was dripping with lube. 

You'd fingered him to insanity and back, just to hear him beg. With enough lube to ensure it was dripping down his thighs and cock. 

You learned quickly that you could be mean to Oscar, anything you did or said would just make him more desperate to be fucked. 

He'd recently bought a dildo, and was begging you to use it on him. 

“Go on Oscar, I want you to say it” 

“Please fuck me!” he cried, hips wiggling impatiently. 

You'd taken his panties off ages ago, but he still had a skirt on. It was pleated, and the front was covered in precome. 

“You can do better than that, pretty girl” your finger trailed down his balls and along the vein on the underside of his cock, making him shiver. 

“If you want me to stuff your pretty little cunt full you're going to have to ask for it” 

“Please” he sniffled, drool and tears wetting the pillow he was grasping for dear life. “Please fuck my- my pussy…” 

“Good girl, Osc” you praised, pressing the blunt head of the toy against his rim. 

He moaned when it breached him, and he was so needy and wet you could pretty much shove it in in one thrust. 

You angled it towards his prostate, and with the tremor that ran up his body you could tell he wasn't going to last long. 

“Turn over baby, I want you to look at me when you come” you cooed, and Oscar complied, flopping onto his back and holding his own legs open for you. 

He was being such a good girl it was hard to be mean. 

The obscene sound of you pushing the dildo back inside was deafening. 

“Listen, can you hear how wet your perfect little cunt is? So good for me baby”  

He was shaking at the praise, cheeks red and embarrassed blush rapidly spreading over his chest as well. 

Tonight wasn't one of those nights, but he loved to have his nipples played with, and clamped. 

They were so sensitive, once you'd managed to make him come just with your mouth on them. 

The way he was struggling to keep his eyes from rolling back told you he was going to come any second now. 

You leaned down to wrap your lips around his tip and he wailed, cock pulsing as he shot rope after rope of cum into your mouth. 

You slowed the movement of the toy, removing it gently and throwing it to the side. 

Oscar panted while you crawled up his body and grabbed his jaw roughly. 

“Open up” you ordered. 

Oscar obeyed without question, opening his mouth and sticking his tongue out. 

You spat his cum into his mouth, and he swallowed it all, moaning at the rough treatment. 

“Good girl” you whispered, giving him a sweet peck on the forehead. 

He shivered, cock twitching as you ran your fingers over his chest and accidentally brushed over a nipple. 

Oscar was like a doll. One that you could dress up and play with to your heart’s content.

[thedvilsinthedetails]

Ok heyyyyy um so this is something that I think is really important and needed to be raised.

so I just saw a post that complained about the fandom making Sirius ‘too feminine’ as in clothes/hair length/personality or whatever

I was tempted to reblog it directly but I’m not looking to start an argument [if u start one tho I will reply tho im not pretending to be a saint here u guys]

but I feel like it’s high time for a reminder

clothing ≠ gender

makeup ≠ gender

hair length ≠ gender

behaviour/personality ≠ gender

body type [bc they said a lot of artists draw his body as more feminine type like thinner or whatever - which also ISNT EVEN MORE FEMININE BC WDYM U THINK THAT THIN IS WOMAN AND MUSCULAR IS MAN ???????!!!!!!!] ≠ gender

also. making a character more feminine in style does NOT make them weak or make their personality pathetic and if you think that you are SEXIST!!!!!!!!!!!

IT IS SEXIST

Im sick of people pretending it isn’t

no bitch we’re not making Sirius a weak little beta because he wears lipstick and makeup.

fuck off.

[hidden-snow]

𝑆𝑘𝑖𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐵𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠

Requested by @strongheartneteyam

Rating // +18

Warnings // Body insecurities / Smut teaser at the end/ Jealousy / Body image issues / Might be triggering for some readers

Word count // 1,950

You’d never been ashamed of your body before. You’d never had a reason to hate your body before. Sure, you were shorter than most Na’vi girls your age, and you weren’t as thin as they were. Your body held more flesh and you had a bit of a belly that went along with your thick thighs and curvy frame.

With Neteyam, though, everything about you was perfect.

Courtship was something every Na’vi girl dreamed of when growing up, fantasizing about how her future mate would ask her, as well as their future afterwards.

You were no different.

What you weren’t expecting was for Neteyam to be the one to ask.

You’d had a crush on him since childhood and, due to the close bond you both shared, it was no surprise when he started gifting you small intricately-designed bracelets and elegant necklaces, asking you into a courtship with him.

You’d have to admit, you tended to match a person with a stereotype and, even though you were thrilled out of your mind at the prospect of a happy family with the boy of your dreams, you’d thought he was into a different type of woman. A thinner type.

He was quick to snuff out that stereotype, showering you with praise and adoration, and constant kisses all over your body at night when you were expected to be sleeping instead. He knew your body like the back of his hand, having explored almost every inch of you. His favorite thing to do with you was to kiss your thighs, trailing his lips upwards to your belly, before resting his cheek against your stomach.

You would lay there, fingers gently running through the beaded thin braids of his hair, as his head rose and fell with your relaxed breathing.

Trouble didn’t arise until Neteyam started branching out with friends of the opposite gender. Girls would flirt with him in a desperate attempt to take him from your side. He was usually very quick to shut it down and, should you have happened to hear about it later, he made sure you heard about the situations from his own mouth first.

One day, though, you were headed to see him, a handful of picked flowers in your hands to give him as a gift. You had to do a double take, seeing him sitting on the ground while talking with a girl. A skinny girl with thin limbs and the same amount of fingers as him. A skinny girl with a tall frame and pretty black hair.

A skinny pretty girl.

You couldn’t remember him mentioning a new female friend, but it wasn’t like you were against it. You didn’t mind, as long as he made sure to keep her in the friend space and nothing more. You trusted him.

Shaking off your stupor, you approached and gave him the flowers, and the smile on his face was brilliant and dazzling, bright as the stars at night. Your heart fluttered at the smile and you couldn’t help but return it with a sheepish one.

The next day, he was with that girl again. Talking and laughing, as if the bestest of friends. Standing on the edge of the field, arrows drawn back tight, they looked at their targets for a moment before releasing the strings, watching the arrows sink into the bullseye of the trees they’d been aiming for. They looked at each other, smiling in pure pride and happiness, and you can’t help but falter.

Especially when you heard the whispers.

Whispers of people all around you, talking about how perfect of a couple they’d make together. That was the first time you’d begun to feel insecure. That was the first time you’d begun to compare yourself to someone else in the village.

Sure, you were a halfling, just like Neteyam and the other children. You were born from the union of a Na’vi mother and an avatar father. Like Lo’ak, you had five fingers on each hand, and you had the slightest dusting of eyebrows upon your face.

You weren’t the best at archery, nor were you very good at hunting in general. Sure, you’d passed your iknimaya well enough, but you still weren’t one of the best. Instead, you preferred helping with cooking the meals for your people or crafting jewelry and clothing for your fellow people.

This girl… she had more in common with Neteyam than you ever would.

Clutching the bracelet you’d made for him tight to your chest, that was the first time you’d ever fled from him.

It felt like your chest was on fire, like your heart was physically ripping in shreds. Because in that moment, you realized that the whispers were right; he deserved her. She would be perfect for him. You would have to let him go so that he could truly be happy.

When he came to find you, you were sitting in your hut, hunched over a loom, weaving a new top for your mother to wear. He’d asked you to go flying with him, something you both enjoyed doing with each other.

You’d kept your face down to hide the tears and the trembling of your lips as you shook your head, claiming to be busy at the time. After constant pushing for him to go and fly with his new friend, he left, but you could feel the disappointment that radiated off of him in waves. Each wave smashed against your tender heart like a hammer, cracking it more and more the longer you thought about it.

Thus began a new cycle.

You were pushing him away, trying to get him to realize that he’d found his match and she wasn’t you. Distance was what he needed. Distance and time. And then he’d see her and he’d fall in love and he’d be truly happy.

At least, that’s what you thought.

To Neteyam, you were simply being stubborn and cold. He had no idea why you were doing this or why you were behaving the way you were. The nights of snuggling, the days of talking and just being together, they were all over.

He missed you.

A lot.

In an attempt to figure out a solution to your sudden coldness, he turned to the wiser adults. First, he’d spoken to Mo’at. Then his parents. And finally, he’d sat down with your parents to find out what the root of this problem was.

No one had any idea what could possibly have caused this chaos between you and him. They were as stumped as he was.

One thing that did stick to him, though, was something his father had told him.

“Neteyam, girls are fragile, but they’re also strong willed and smart. They trust men with their lives, until they don’t. So if you’ve started doing things you know Y/n wouldn’t like, you need to figure out what it is and stop it.”

Was he doing something wrong?

He didn’t know. If he tried to ask, you’d brush him off and walk away, acting like everything was just fine, even if it wasn’t.

So, he turned to his new friend. Sitting down under the shade of a tree, he spilled out his heart to her, confessing his love towards you, as well as his confusion over your sudden coldness. She listened patiently, nodding as if she knew exactly what was wrong.

When he’d gotten to the end of his rant, she smiled.

“What is it? Do you know why she is acting this way?” he’d asked softly and she nodded again.

“I believe that she might be jealous of our friendship. Some rumors have started of late. Adults talking about how you and I would go well together. Even though we are only friends, I’m sure she has heard them and believes them.”

He was falling into a whole new level of confusion. It wasn’t like you to listen to gossip and rumors. You’d always thought that sort of thing was petty and cruel. So why would you listen to it now?

That was when he decided he’d had enough of it all. No more cat and mouse games. No more playing around. He was going to get down to the bottom of this with you one way or another.

He approached you in your little crook of the world, determination making it hard for you to push him away.

“Y/n, I’m not leaving until you answer me,” he stated, hands firmly planted on your shoulders as you stared up at him with wide eyes.

“Why are you behaving like this? Did none of this even matter to you? Everything we have built together, all of it. Does it no longer matter to you anymore?”

You were frozen, finally forced to face the conflict of your actions, and you didn’t know how to respond other than to break into tears in his arms.

“She would be so much better for you,” you sob softly as he cradled your body close to him. “She is skinny and tall and beautiful. She is good at all the things you’re good at and she has so much in common with you. She would make you so much happier than I ever could.”

You spill out every thought, every feeling that had been stowed away for weeks in your head.

He listened patiently, letting you ramble until you had no words left to speak.

And then, he pulled you over to your mat, pushing you flat on your back, hands planted on each side of your head.

“I love you. You make my life interesting, Y/n. No one could ever come close to replacing you. I love you and your beautiful body. Your funny jokes and your frustration. I love that cute little groan you make when you miss your target. I love helping you aim your arrows because I can feel your skin against mine and it fills me with warmth. I love cuddling with you at night and kissing every inch of your body. I love talking to you and listening to your exciting stories. Your mischievous adventures always thrill me the most. I’d rather listen to you talking about what you’ve done all day than talk to anyone else.”

He moved down to dust his lips lightly against your own, cupping your jaw gently with his hand.

“I think it’s time to remind you of how much I love you.”

His voice was soft, as quiet as a whisper, and it sent shivers up your spine. You were crying, but it was from relief. He wasn’t going to leave you because he loved you.

It was something he wasn’t going to ever give up on.

His fingers brushed down your body, light as a feather, touching every inch of your skin. And once he’d touched every part of you, he began to trail kisses down your skin, pulling your thighs up over his shoulders so that he could kiss the flesh of your legs. His teeth lightly graze the inner parts of your thighs and you just relish in his gentle kisses and light touches.

He returns his lips back to yours, drawing you into a deeper, more heated kiss. Fingers gently pull your tewng off, discarding it nearby, before he wiggled out of his own. His hands gently press against yours, fingers slotted between your own to grip your hands tightly as he rubbed his girth in between your thighs.

“I love every inch of you,” he whispered as he parted from your kiss. “Every inch of you belongs to me, just like every inch of me belongs to you. I will never throw you away for anyone else.”

[kianely]

okok hear me out ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝

being needy and riding re6 leon’s thigh and he starts sweetly mocking you for being so pent up and vocal even though he hasn’t even really touched you at all

i’m not usually this horny but :( next time i’ll send some fluff into your askbox

Omg anon I’m hearing you out, you got me thinking about this…just imagine how much muscle his thighs have 😵‍💫 I wrote a little gender neutral drabble on this under the cut I hope that’s okay

Thank you for sending an ask I love interaction AHH

“That’s it,” his murmurs fan against the sensitive skin of your ear, and they turn your brain into mush with each syllable that emits from his lips. “You’re so loud I wouldn’t be surprised if we get a noise complaint.”

Your pajama pants are discarded somewhere on the floor of your shared living room as you rut against him. Leon has been so busy that you couldn’t help but pounce on him when he got some free time, scrambling over to him as soon as he sat down on the couch.

The scent of his cologne and pheromones fills your senses, a combination that makes you press your face against the crook of his neck in an attempt to get more.

And you’re so noisy—grunts and whimpers spilling from you with each roll of your hips against his thigh. The rough fabric of his denim jeans against the flimsier and thinner fabric of your underwear (which are pretty wet with your arousal, dampening up Leon's pants as well) has you rolling your eyes back.

“Don’t even need to lift a damn finger. Love me so much I bet you could come untouched.”

Surely he wouldn’t be that mean, right? Though…you could definitely come untouched. Hell, you gushed at the mere sound of his raspy morning voice; you got all excited whenever you got a peek of his happy trail.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you, sweetheart?” God, his voice is gravelly. His hand slides up to rest against the arch of your back. “You’re soaking my pants just from dry humping me like a damn dog.”

“Leon—“ you want to protest against those words, you feel a little bit embarrassed (and very turned on) and in turn, you dig your nails into his shoulder blades. He cuts you off with a low rumble of laughter, catching onto your embarrassment and pressing a kiss against your temple.

“Bet you’d grind against my leg if I put you on your knees, hm? Poor baby can’t even go a day without being all over me.” He brings his hand to your jaw, cradles it, and brings you in for a kiss. It drowns out the loudness of your drunken sounding noises. His stubble brushes against your chin, and he gently pats his fingers against your cheek.

“You can be my sweet lap dog and keep me warm all day. What do you think?”

[carefreecoffee]

•·.·'Fluffbruary Day 10: Rest w/Dabi'·.·•

Word count: 1110, Gender-Neutral Reader

Dabi had stumbled unceremoniously toward your home, tired and sore from his recent league mission that had gone out of control. It was getting late, however he was glad to be away from the League for a while. He knocked on your door hurriedly, waiting for you to answer.

At the sound, you are quickly alerted. The sleep you were trying to get long forgotten. You pad your feet along the floor answering the door curiously, sleep evident in your face still as you squint from the light pouring in. “Dabi...? What're you-” your eyes are caught by the red on his clothing, the once white shirt stained in a deep crimson. He leaned heavily against the doorframe, a weary expression on his face. He grunted as he shifted his weight, wincing in pain. "Hey...can I come in for a bit?"

“Woah yeah, come in, just -just sit on the couch” you let him in, closing the door before sprinting to grab your first aid kit from the bathroom along with a clean rag. He limped into the living room, collapsing onto your couch with a groan. His face was littered with scrapes and cuts, and his body was clearly exhausted. He leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes, relishing in the comfort of the soft cushions.

It wasn't unknown for him to show up at such random times. Though a label was never given on your relationship, you consider yourself in a relationship, given his reliance on you and vice versa. Seemingly being the only person he has no trouble confiding in.

You come back, looking over his injuries solemnly “Remove your jacket and shirt- what happened now?” 

Dabi wordlessly complies, removing his jacket and shirt to reveal a myriad of deep, bleeding gashes and burns all over his torso. "League mission went south. Got into a bit of trouble."

“I can tell” your voice slightly wavered at the sight of the cuts along his previous scars, furrowing your brows. You take the damp rag, gently roaming it over the bloodied areas. He winced, the cold water a shock to his already burning flesh. His eyes were closed, taking steady breaths to try to remain stoic to the pain. "Don't worry... I've had worse."

You began cleansing his wounds carefully, spreading some antiseptic along his wounds with hospital grade q-tips. He grunted, biting back a pained hiss as it stung his gashes. His hands clenched into fists, tightly gripping the fabric of the couch.He kept his gaze fixed on the ceiling, his breathing labored as you continued to clean his wounds. The antiseptic stung like hell, but in Dabi fashion, he remained stoically quiet

You finally finish cleaning the smaller wounds on his torso, seeing a rather large gash that thankfully only broke the first couple layers of skin. You tend to the gash carefully, wrapping it afterwards in a layer of gauze and bandages, reaching carefully around his back. He winced, your touch gentle and caring.

"Uh, thanks...or whatever..” He grunted in a low voice, still looking up at the ceiling, avoiding your gaze.

You don't answer him immediately, too focused on covering a few more of his deeper cuts before looking up at him, seeing some thinner scratches running across his cheeks. “You have some cuts on your face”

He finally turned his gaze to you, his face betraying a hint of vulnerability in spite of himself. "Yeah, I know. I can handle it. Just need to put some ointment on them. I'll be fine." He tried to brush off your concern, but there was a tiredness in his voice that betrayed his exhaustion.

You huff at his nonchalant demeanor, leaning in and lightly applying the ointment to the mentioned cuts, bandaging them when needed. “Okay... you're uuh, fine..?” you sigh, rubbing your temple as you lean back “Scared the shit outta me though”

He chuckled softly, a dry, ironic sound. He looked at you with weary eyes, a hint of a smirk forming on his lips. "Scared you, huh? That's a first." He shifted slightly on the couch, wincing as he moved. "I've survived far worse than this, y'know."

You began to pack up your kit. “I know that, i just- the scene of you all bloodied up isn't the first thing i wanna see after waking up.” He huffed, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He couldn't deny the fact that seeing him wounded and bloodied probably wasn't a pleasant sight for you, especially so early in the morning. "Yeah, sorry about that. Wasn't exactly planning on getting my ass kicked today."

He leaned back against the couch, resting his head against the arm rest and closing his eyes. "I could've gone to the League base, but...it was closer to come here." He mumbled, his voice growing heavier as exhaustion started to take over.

You nod in understanding, glancing over to his dirty boots that he still kept on from his frenzy. “I get it, I'm just glad you're safe. Don't forget to take your shoes off before you knock out” You pat his boots before walking off to the bathroom once more.

He grunted in acknowledgment, "Yeah, yeah...I know the drill. Don't worry, I'm not gonna ruin your carpet or anything." With a weary sigh, he sluggishly began tugging at his laces, his movements slow and heavy from fatigue. “Here, just take this and rest. You know how to work the TV and also have at it” You hand him a plush blanket, something he hadn't felt in a short while. Sleep began to knock at your brain once more, deciding not to pry at what he had gotten himself into any longer.

He took the blanket, draping it over himself with a sigh of relief. "Thanks.." He mumbled, shifting slightly to get more comfortable on the couch. His eyes remained closed, and it was clear that he was already starting to slip into sleep. "Don't worry about me. I'll be outta your hair in the morning."

You were a bit unsure with the situation however knowing his status, you knew he’d be able to handle himself. You lean down, pecking his forehead before turning off the light and heading back toward your room. “Stay safe” 

His eyes fluttered open briefly, a small, surprised huff escaping his lips. He actually found the gesture oddly comforting. He watched you walk away, the corners of his mouth lifted in a small, faint smile. "Yeah, yeah. You too. Night.." He murmured, settling back further into the couch and letting his exhaustion finally overtake him.