#and i just can’t be bothered with this acc at times

[iman-92]

in the mood to live my life to the fullest but in a way that doesn’t require me to actually leave my house

[luffysprincess]

LIE DETECTOR TEST : RENSUKE KUNIGAMI 

⊹ summary : the blue lock boys are invited to take a lie detector test, but they’ve got to answer twitter’s unfiltered questions

⊹ pairing : rensuke kunigami x reader (established relationship)

⊹ wc : 740

⊹ warnings : fem!reader with she/her pronouns, reader is referred to as a “girlfriend”, unedited, suggestive/nsfw. MINORS DNI

⊹ a/n : kunigami was highly requested and I’m sorry for such a long wait but I finally got the motivation to write his part!! lmk who should be interviewed next <33 ALSO if anyone has a reblog of bachira’s version pls send me the link. I never saved it before I deactivated my previous acc TT

⊹ isagi’s version | bachira’s version

Kunigami’s never been hooked up to a polygraph before. He’s never been in an interview like this before either. When the team’s PR manager introduced the idea to the team, Kunigami was rather excited for something so fun and unique. It’d definitely get them more attention and hopefully expand their fan base. Not to mention, he used to love watching those ‘answering your tweets’ interviews so he was looking forward to being on the other end of the screen this time. 

He, however, did not expect the fans to be so dirty minded. 

“Twitter user @/rensuckmyclit asks ‘How do you feel about breeding and how do I get myself a rensuke creampie??’”

He shouldn’t be so surprised, not after hearing what Isagi and Bachira had to answer but he was hoping he’d get some tame questions. How in the hell was he supposed to answer this?

It didn’t help that he could hear the two men beside him laughing at his expression, one of shock, confusion and embarrassment. But he’s made his bed and now he’s gotta lie in it or however the saying goes. 

“Yeah breeding is…nice, and uh you can’t?” his statement coming out as more of a question. 

All heads in the room turn to Milo, the polygraph examiner, curious to hear his verdict but are met with an old man frowning at his machine. “Inconclusive.”

“Maybe try saying more than just two words, idiot,” Isagi sarcastically adds as he punches his arm. 

“Don’t bother lying, Milo’ill catch ya,” Bachira adds, grinning mischievously at the ginger. 

“I’ll repeat the question for you: ‘How do you feel about breeding and how do I get myself a rensuke creampie??’”

“How are you even saying that with a straight face?!” Kunigami questions. “Ugh nevermind.…Breeding is uh…a yes for me.”

“So you’re into it?”

“Yes I’m into it,” he sighs.

“Milo?”

“Truth”

“And as for the second part of the question—god I can’t believe I’m about to say this on camera—,” Kunigami drags his hand down his face and mutters out the rest of the answer, “only Y/N gets a ‘rensuke creampie’.” He uses his free hand to form air quotes for the embarrassing term. 

“Y/N?” the interviewer questions.

“My girlfriend. Now can I get the next question before these two pass out? Megs looks like he forgot how to breathe– dammit its not that funny!” Hearing their usually collected teammate lose his temper over this only released another wave of cackles from the boys, contagious enough that even the polygraph examiner and the interviewer couldn’t hold back their chuckles. Kunigami can only huff in embarrassment as he waits for what’s next.

“Okay, okay… our next question is from twitter user @/kunigamisrightasscheekhairs.”

“What the fuck are these handles?”

“I think they’re creative,” Bachira snickers.

“They ask ‘What’s the weirdest thing you’ve been asked to sign?’”

Kunigami takes a second to reflect on all his fan interactions. Frowning, he hums in thought and just when he thinks he’s got answer he remembers an even odder instance. On the outside he looks like a fish opening and closing its mouth with nothing ever coming out until finally he sits up straighter to respond, “Someone once asked me to sign her tits.” 

“What’s the verdict Milo? Is he telling the truth?”

“Yup.”

“Well did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Sign the girl’s tits.”

“I don’t need to answer that so I won’t” Kunigami smirks at Isagi feeling smart but the blue eyed man just smirks back, “Well that just makes it seem like you definitely did. I wonder if Y/N knows about this. Should I tell her?”

Isagi is met with Kunigami’s playful glare and a series of curses thrown at him, all of which will be censored out when this episode is posted on BlueTube. 

However, the room is silenced when Kunigami goes serious. He turns to the camera with a straight face, “I’m only admitting this because I don’t want any false accusations of me cheating or anything going around. Yes I signed her tits. And yes Y/N knows about it. They were her tits. And because I know one of these two idiots will ask, yes we were dating at the time.”

“All true,” the examiner confirms but one look at Kunigami’s face would be more than enough to know if he was really telling the truth. Afterall, his face was turning redder than his hair. 

taglist:  @kazuubaby @satanblessing @saiki-enthusiast @nnasv @nymphsdomain @mitzukichan18 @celestair @ilovechuuyaa @mortallytenaciouskoala @tsumu-senpai @hweartiish

[seozii]

TIP TOE

very unusual and slightly interesting

# PAIRING seungmin x f/gn!reader

# 🐈 — SEO reposting from my old acc bc why not? Hell yah am I rotting in writers block 😍 plus exams coming up, yes girl I’m going to disappear again🥰

Seungmin was never the type to show his affection through physical touch. It was a known fact.

Once when you tried to hold his Hands he swatted yours away. When you tried to back hug him he glared into your souls before you could even take a step near him. You don’t even remember the last time you’ve kissed.

You realized that not many people are a big fan of physical touches. Especially seungmin.

It was like any other day, all you did was work work and work. Have you even had any breaks?? Just packed schedules with your boss bossing you around like you were some kind of robot.

After hours of you being overworked it finally ceased. You finally had a chance to go home and rest to relax.

You took a quick cold and refreshing shower coming out feeling very refreshed and clean.

Inspecting through your wardrobe you smiled once you’ve finally found your favorite pair of pajamas.

You quickly slipped in on before collapsing onto your bed. You let out a sigh feeling welcomed by the soft and plush mattress.

You’re finally able to relax allowing yourself to be fully enveloped by the plush mattress, without someone throwing you around like a rag doll or nagging into your head.

You heard muffling sounds of the door opening and closing shut, footsteps echoing through the hallways. No you weren’t bothered by it at all. All you wanted to do was fall into a deep slumber.

As you were about to drift off to sleep you felt someone felt a presence behind you before you knew it you felt an arm being wrapped around your waist, drawing your body closer to their chest.

Highly bewildered you whipped your head around only to see seungmin holding onto you tightly.

You were about to speak but he cut you off burying your face in his chest.

His touch was gentle, warm and welcoming. You can’t lie, you absolutely loved this feeling.

He seemed to be lost in his own world. You didn’t want to be the one to ruin it but you had to ask. This behavior was stranger considering he was the one who absolutely hated physical touches.

You finally muttered up the courage to ask. “Min….are you good?” You asked softly glancing back up at him.

He didn’t say anything. Instead he changed positions burying his face in your chest.

He was obviously in a frail state, he needed comfort.

Hesitantly your hands began to find its way through his scalp massaging it softly. You heard a low and soft hum escape from his lips.

He pulled you closer his hands still around your waist as he pulled you even more closer, your legs tangled under the layers of the bed sheet, leaving your heart beating at an extremely fast rate.

Suddenly he pulled away catching you off guard. “Ah i’m so sorry, I must have made you feel uncomfortable, I didn’t ask for your permission, I was just really tired and stressed I didn’t even—“ he babbled looking down in embarrassment

You immediately interfered. “Hey, no it doesn’t make me uncomfortable and you don’t need to ask for permission” you reassured Smiling softly.

He looked at you with a skeptical look. “Are you sure about it?, so we can continue?”

You nodded then felt yourself being pulled back into the bed.

He buried your face into his chest once again. His hot breath tickling against your neck.

“Mmm let’s do this more often” he asserted.

“Why not” you agreed getting more comfortable in his arms. Soon you both drifted off to sleep with you in his arms and his arms around your waist.

[blue-jisungs]

sylvanian family

# author's note ... probably the cutest shit ive written in a while </3 the jiwoong brainrot was STRONG n also !! the acc i mentioned is real -- i love their recipes n calico critters:((( its in polish but i believe they do have some englih trans included !!

# word count ... 778

jiwoong watched you scroll through some person’s tiktok profile, peeking through your shoulder. you were laying in his arms, his chin resting on your shoulder. he treasured peaceful moments like these, knowing that not only his schedules make it hard for you to have a moment for yourself but also his menace gremlin members. despite having separate rooms they seemed to love bothering him. and you.

he was close to dozing off, something so comforting about being able to hold you in his arms. at times like these you reminded him of his favorite childhood teddy bear.

a soft huff left your lips and you scrolled down once more.

“that looks delicious” his hum startled you a bit but you nodded, your hair ruffling his cheek.

you were watching a profile of a person who was posting baking recipes. lemon cheesecake, matcha pancakes, strawberry tart… they all looked mouth watering and beyond cute.

however, what mostly caught your attention were the sylvanian family figurines in the background. the author of tiktok’s called them their little helpers and they were always featured in the videos.

“i always wanted to have one…” you mumbled and shifted a bit, so now your head was tucked underneath his chin. jiwoong put an arm around yours, still able to see your screen.

“lemon cheesecake?” he blinked, looking at the step by step recipe “no problem, we can make one…”

“no” you laughed, vibrations echoing through his body too. a smile bloomed upon the sound “i meant those calico critters!”

“calico… what…?” he repeated in a small voice.

you let out a dramatic, annoyed sigh and rolled off him. now laying beside him on your stomach, you typed something in your phone and turned the screen to him.

jiwoong put one of his - now free - hands behind head and the other reached for your phone to pull it closer. his hand stayed atop of yours, brushing your fingers gently.

in front of him there was an image of small figurines of plush animals. rabbits, squirrels, cats… every animal that he could name. they were dressed in sickeningly cute attire: from overalls to dresses, most of them in pastel colors. he even noticed a set of figurines consisting of a mom sheep and baby sheep triplets.

“i’ve always wanted them so, sooo badly. my childhood friend used to have a house! i was so jealous. she had a house and, and a car! like for the figurines” you rambled and his attention shifted to you, smiling subconsciously.

having the comparison of the small figurines and you, he noticed some similarities. the general cuteness and desire to caress gently.

“but i never had one. they were so expensive… well, they still are” you sighed and turned your phone “oh, there’s a blind box! awww look, there’s one with a mushroom hat nooooo i’m gonna cry”

jiwoong scoffed in amusement, poking your hand with his finger. you showed him the picture.

he smiled upon seeing the little guy you were talking about.

“c’mere my calico critter. you look like one, you know?” he hummed and gestured you to come closer. your face lit up, phone dropping somewhere on his bed.

scooting closer, you rested your head on your hand. faces inches away, he had to raise his chin slightly since he was laying down.

“yeah?” you grinned, tilting your head curiously.

ah, you were going to be the death of his.

“mhm. you’re so cute like them. and i get cuteness aggression as well” jiwoong explained and you rolled your eyes dramatically.

“i don’t get cuteness aggression from them. it’s just… ugh” you giggled and kicked your legs “you can’t just say that!”

“oh, i can. they’re called sylvanian families? we’d be kim families then. or l/n families?” jiwoong pondered out loud “we’d be the black cats. no, i’d be the black cat and you’d be…”

“the calico cat” you finished his sentence excitedly and something told jiwoong that this specific one might be your favorite.

“right. and then we’d have kitty triplets. that just makes sense, doesn’t it? they’d have all of our colors” your boyfriend’s voice was soft.

you pouted, heart swelling in your chest. jiwoong never judged your inner child’s dreams and never batted an eye.

“i love you” you hummed, climbing on top of him. you poked his chest “don’t get surprised if i become poor one day. poor but rich in calico critters”

jiwoong scoffed and just pulled you into a tender kiss, making a mental note to buy you the house and the figurines later as a present. after all, who was he not to fulfill his baby’s wishes?

masterlist <3

taglist. @slytherinshua ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @haecien ,, @stryroses

[kissitbttr]

frat!Miguel and reader getting into an argument and them posting indirects on each others snap/insta stories and them reposting shady tiktoks knowing the other will see it until miguel just cracks and starts posting cute shit abt her😁😁😁

you are petty when it comes to arguing, never wanted to be the one to take defeat. you will crawl on broken glasses to hell and back before admitting that you’re wrong,

and sometimes it takes a toll on miguel, he’s frustrated over how you are so hard headed sometimes. because then it would lead to this. silent treatment and you stopping to go over the frat house,

but what drives him crazy the most is when he sees all the spam reposts on tiktok coming from your acc, somehow all of them made it to his for you page,

at first, miguel were doing the same too. to see how much you liked getting a little taste of your medicine,

“i’m annoying? you’re annoying, muñeca. let’s see how you like this one. bam” he snickers to himself as he reposts another tiktok of a guy complaining about his girlfriend’s petty behavior,

however the thing is? you don’t actually give a shit,

you’ve been training far too long to deal with this thanks to the shitty men in your previous relationship. so him being petty as you? doesn’t bother you a bit. if anything, it makes it more fun,

it irks him to know that you’re not responding to any of it. if he’s being honest, he wants you to spam him with texts of you being clingy and telling him to stop doing all that extra shit on tiktok. he misses that. he misses you

he swears he’s not letting himself go at that time. he wants you to be the one who apologizes or at least hit him back up. even glen had told him before to wait a couple more days and see if you would actually text him instead the other way around.

but five days without talking to his muñeca and sleeping by her side? yeah, he’s had it

miguel swipes through his contact list and hit your number before dialing it, pacing back and forth in his room.

“hello?” you answer after a few rings,

“i give up. I can’t. i don’t like this, i don’t like you being far from me” he blurts out without saying hello back, head shaking. “you need to come back, muñeca, please. i’m fucking losing it here”

“so you admit defeat, huh?” you smirk on the other line,

“yes. i am folding. i am on my knees.” he admits, running through a hand through his hair out of frustrations. “i’ll say anything you want to hear, whatever it is”

with a chuckle, you decide to tease him more. “post me more on your socials, maybe i think about it”

“i did!” he cries out, “three on my stories and three of your pics on the feed. and I’m rarely active on instagram, you know that!”

oh, he’s serious about this. “aw that’s so sweet, o’hara”

he wide eyed, not liking that name. “o’hara? who the fuck—no o’hara here! i am not o’hara to you, princesa!”

you laugh at how adorable he sounds when he gets upset over you call him by his last name,

you do miss him. miss him so much you can’t even think straight any more. and you hate having this little argument with him, it takes too much of you and his time. sleeping alone doesn’t sound so good anymore, it’s better with hin around.

“get over here, miggy”

he grins at your sudden invitation, grabbing his car keys off the table before rushing out of his room, nearly tripping over the carpet floor as he plucks his jacket from the couch. couple of the guys are all sat in the living room, eyes darting to his.

“woah, easy there pal. going somewhere?” beck raises an eyebrow at his best friend’s clumsy antics,

miguel slips on his shoes and put his signature snapback on

“heading over to my girl’s. won’t be back till tomorrow. bye.”with a cheeky grin, he fist bumps beck who looks at him funny before walking out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

carlos pops a beer can open, plopping onto the empty space of the sofa.

“you guys see that right? him being fucking whipped?”

[mirnilop]

𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝑜𝓁𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝓋𝒾𝓁 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 ˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ wally darling

⚠ tags: sfw, mob au, yandere!wally, gn!singer!reader, power imbalance, discussions of violence

♡ synopsis: you’d be surprised how many fans you accrue as a small-time lounge singer. while this is usually a good thing, one of yours happens to rule half the city, so he isn’t exactly receptive to the word “no”.

♡ word count: 5,310

⛧ﾐ‧*･ﾟ the following content may be triggering to some. please proceed with caution! ･ﾟ*‧ミ⛧

a/n: hello!! ₍ᐢ.ˬ.⑅ᐢ₎ goshh, my very first post on this acc!! i haven’t posted fanfic in a hot minute but i’m suuuper excited to get back into it!! 💞 i have sooo many wips for this fandom, it was difficult to choose which one to finish first! credit to @/clownsuu for creating the au and for the lovely art!! i tweaked the concept a wee bit so that it takes place in a roger rabbit-esque world where puppets and humans live together unharmoniously (with a jessica rabbit inspired reader ofc >v>). it was a lot of fun trying to marry wally's canon personality with a Scary Mob Boss (*´ 艸`) i can't wait to post more!! what are y'all's favourite aus? let me know!! ･*･:≡(　ε:)

There’s a rose on your vanity.

The sight of it snuffs out your high spirits, irritation igniting in its place– and it was such a good day, too! You and the girls were perfectly in sync for your entire performance, bolstered by the unusually affable audience; you even rewarded them with a sneak peek of new material, which made them go wild!

Dreams of stomping it beneath your heel stew in your head as you drop it in the faience vase at the rim of the mirror, where a crinkled, beige-tipped rose droops against the rim. Why not break the vase too? An idea that’s crossed your mind too many times, and while it gets harder to resist with each flower, you endure it. They’re presents, after all, and you doubt your admirer would take kindly to the news that you’ve trashed them. You’re certain one of his minions would obtain the evidence, if not witness you do it; you can’t pinpoint the extent to which they survey you, but the crawling sensation of eyes on your back crops up often, and obviously they have no problem barging into your dressing room to play delivery service.

Sighing, you comb through your rolling rack to pick a suitable outfit to change into. Most of the articles hanging are also gifts, but you’ve made sure to keep some of your own hard-earned clothes here out of sheer spite. A burgundy cashmere number has just slipped into your grasp when the door bursts open.

“How’s that for a show?! And what a great crowd, a whole buncha dolls! Or– well, puppets– and humans! Hahaha!”

Lottie skips in with her usual energy, the bell on her collar jingling alongside the clack of her Mary Janes. You hate that their manager mandates the bells as a part of their costumes, as if puppets being treated like second-class citizens wasn’t enough. “You wanna make money or not? It’s part of the appeal! You know, Mary Had A Little Lamb and all that!” is what he told you after one of your countless tirades regarding his treatment of them, but the sleazy smirk wrapped around his cheap cigarette allowed you to read between the lines. As much as you despise that man, it’s not your business to judge the trio for staying contracted with him. Mottie’s recalled to you how difficult it was to hire a manager at all, and you suppose you have to (begrudgingly) thank him for bringing them into your life, since he’s the one who bagged them the backup singer gig.

A swell of color in your peripheral lets you know that she’s come near, but you don’t bother diverting attention from your search. This is such a common occurrence between you two that pleasantries are no longer required.

“And they were mighty generous with the tips! So me and the gals was thinking we should go somewhere to… celebrate…”

Hearing her trail off, you turn to find her staring at the new rose, her once-perky ears fallen limp. You click your tongue, remorse prickling your heart, though you’ve done nothing wrong.

“I’ll be alright, Lottie. Here,” You grab a wad of bills from your personal tip jar and fold them into her hand. “You take your sisters somewhere nice, my treat. As an apology for having to skip out tonight.”

When she doesn’t move from her spot, merely pouting at you with big, glistening eyes full of concern, you swaddle her in a hug. Fleecy strands of shell pink hair tickle your nose as she nestles her snout into your shoulder, squeezing you like a lifebuoy. Having her in your arms is a vital reminder as to why you continue to put up with everything. Lottie, Dottie and Mottie are your beloved friends– your family when you had none– and you are willing to do whatever is necessary to build a life with them.

“Are ya sure?”

“Positive. And if that bug gives you even a whiff of trouble, you come get me right away, got it?”

She laughs, the sound a balm to the ache of your worries. “He never gives us any trouble– n’fact, I haven’t heard ‘im say a single word!”

“Good. At least one of them has manners. Now go have fun!”

After a few more hugs and a promise to relay your apology to her sisters, she trots towards the entrance. Halfway through it, she pauses.

“Promise ya’ll play nice?”

An involuntary grimace twists your face, which you smooth immediately.

“I was planning on it,” you concede, earning an exhale of relief from Lottie.

“Thanks. Honestly, I’m kinda worried...” She leans against the doorframe, gaze trained on the checkered floor. “I see more and more of that Napoleon-wannabe’s goons lately. Do ya think he’s gettin’ antsy? It’s been real quiet since that incident with Dorelaine.”

Ah, the incident. It happened a handful of months ago; he refused to go into specifics, but what you’ve gathered from his gnomic recount and various news stories is that their rival organization– led by Ronald Dorelaine, a human man– planted explosives somewhere important, racking up thousands in damages and dismembering several puppets, left to be mended with those horrific stitches. You didn’t receive another rose until several weeks afterwards.

“I can’t be sure,” you admit. “He doesn’t tell me much about the goings-on of the ‘family’, not that I care to know. But I noticed he’s been more wound up lately… maybe they’re going to retaliate?”

A visible shudder travels through Lottie, and she tosses her head as if to ward off the gravity of your predicament. It was easier to ignore the implications when there wasn’t an active turf battle.

“You’re right, we should stay as far as we can from that nasty business. Wear the red, then. To butter ‘im up a little.” She offers you a conflicted half-smile, most likely holding herself back from proposing a makeover, before sidling out the door.

Glowering, you follow the advice, shucking your tight, shimmering stage outfit for the cozy cashmere you were eyeing before. Like I need to be reminded of his favorite color. I’ve practically lived in red since I met him. It inexplicably fits like a glove, as do all of the clothes you've been bestowed; for the sake of your sanity, you prevent yourself from delving too far into that subject.

As you fix the little bits of your appearance that got mussed up during your performance, you can’t help but contemplate hiding in your room until morning, even though you know it wouldn’t work– and you’d have to pay for a broken front door. Once every speck of lint has been removed and your ensemble is flawless, you steel your resolve with a hard look in the mirror. If things go south, at least you’ll make a gorgeous open casket.

You step into your shoes and out of the dressing room, swiping your bag and a matching hat from the plethora that dangle on knobs affixed to the wall along the way. The haze that eternally permeates the lounge envelops you as you walk, no longer springing tears to your eyes like it did so long ago, when you were a starry-eyed fledgling. Upon entering the foyer, you call out to the owner, Gene, who’s counting the register behind the bar.

“Hey, I’m heading out!”

“Geez, you’re in a hurry! Got a hot date or what?”

“Something like that,” you breathe, your nerves relighting tenfold now that you’re so close to the outside.

“Ahh, I getcha.” His amusement is clear, construing an innuendo within your words that is absolutely not there, but you’d rather die than clarify. “You did a great job today, you deserve it!”

Somehow, your admirer has managed to limbo directly under Gene’s nose; thus far he’s made no indication that he’s aware he has a very important patron. For a moment, you observe him, and see how he absentmindedly rubs the pocket of his button-up– where a polaroid of his two children is safely tucked away– and you decide that it’s probably for the best.

“Thanks, Gene. Have a good one.”

“You too!”

His reply barely reaches you as you cross the threshold from the comfort of your work into the cold, pensive night. A luckier soul may have suffered a fright when greeted with the colossal figure standing below the street light, carved with shadow, but it’s a familiar sight to you now. An inconspicuous black car is parked behind him.

“Hi Howdy.”

“Evening, Mx.” He bows slightly, whisking open the sleek passenger door which you reluctantly slide inside.

“I wish you’d stop calling me that. I do have a name.” It’s true. Being addressed formally by such an important figure imbues you a with a sick feeling, like he’s won, and you’ve already been initiated into this fucked up institution.

Though he waits for you to finish speaking before shutting you in, he doesn’t grace you with a response; not that you were expecting one. In all the times he’s escorted you to these duress-dates, as you’ve taken to calling them, he’s remained stoic to a mechanical degree, acknowledging your presence and nothing more. Thrashing, crying, screaming– you’ve tried everything to escape, and have never elicited a reaction more severe than that of a tired parent handling a tantrum. If you resist, he simply manhandles you. It’s hardly a fair match, with him having 4 arms and several feet of height on you, so you opt to reserve your energy for dealing with his headache of a boss.

When he hauls his many limbs onto the driver’s seat, the car lurches, too small to accommodate a puppet of his stature; he has to hunch forward to see the windshield, antennae pushed flat. You lean back and vacantly turn towards the window, wondering if cars big enough for someone like him to drive comfortably even exist while the engine rumbles to life.

The umbrous cityscape passes you by, inklings of humans and puppets flashing in and out of the darkness like ghosts. Thick boughs of red and green tinsel are strung across a few lamp posts, but by the end of the season they’ll all be covered. Dottie’s already triple checked that you and her sisters have one day of the annual Christmas market off, even though you strike the same deal with Gene every year; the four of you get Saturday, then he gets Sunday to take his family. It’s one of your favorite times of the year, if only because you get to experience the aura of wonder that enlivens Lottie when the first snow falls, Mottie’s timid wheedling to attend The Nutcracker, and Dottie’s alphabetically-organized checklist of fun winter activities.

Those cheerful thoughts are wiped away as Howdy turns into a private garage attached to a sleek, angular skyscraper. He parks in the spot nearest to the entrance, the first in a row of spaces labeled with metal “Reserved for Staff” signs, and circles the car to let you out. The sensation of him gingerly lifting you comes with no alarm; he always assists you up the concrete stairs leading to the elevator, as if you’re so physically inept you can’t handle 3 tiny steps. You assume his needless precaution is for the same reason he hasn’t beaten you yet despite defying him so often: boss’s orders.

With a reedy knell, the elevator glides open, and Howdy signals for you to go ahead. Once you’re both inside, he inserts a key and presses the button for the uppermost level. Expecting a noiseless ride, you tune into the low muzak emitting from the speakers, which makes you miss the first time he calls you.

“Mx.”

Startled, you swivel towards him. His steadfast profile is unreadable.

“Boss doesn’t know you’ve opposed him so vehemently in the past. Please keep that in mind tonight.”

The entrance broaches before you can interrogate him as to what the hell he means, granting you entry to a luxury penthouse laved in gold, ivory, and– of course– red. A glimmering chandelier suspends from the ornamental ceiling, bathing the antique furniture in an amber glow. If you hadn’t just ridden up the elevator, you would have assumed such a lavish drawing room belonged to an old mansion.

It’s something straight out of a romance novel, except instead of a chiseled, broody Italian, it’s a short puppet sitting at the marble-topped dining table. He lounges at the head in a slate blue silk suit with its jacket buttoned to the top; an honor seemingly reserved solely for you, because it’s the only way you’ve seen him wear it, despite street tales describing the way it billows from his shoulders as he stalks the town. Revealed by its plunged neckline is the collar of a white dress shirt embossed with rainbow pinstripes, and a red ascot neatly tied and pulled askant around his throat.

Wally Darling, in the felt: kingpin of The Neighborhood, and resident thorn in your side.

When you arrive, he rises to meet you, dismissing Howdy with a pointed glance; you’ve learned that the relationship between a crime lord and his loyal bandog transcends language. You watch him as he leaves through a pair of swinging doors to the left, his cryptic advice-slash-warning heavy on your mind.

And so, you find yourself alone with the most dangerous man in the city– puppet or otherwise.

“Good evening, dearest. I hope my gift found you well.”

The concept of personal space might as well be Greek to Wally, since he hasn’t once respected it from the day you had the misfortune of making his acquaintance. He crowds so close that you have to crane your neck to see his face, the heat emanating from him eliciting shivers in your chill-soaked body.

“Yes, thank you. It was quite a lively night,” you chirp, wielding a civil smile.

Although the contours of his wispy, coiffed curls only reach your ribs, he extends his arm to you, which you take with such a featherlight hold that you barely brush his sleeve. Rather than leading you to the dining table like you expected, you’re guided towards a small lounge area to the side, the crackling croon of Billie Holiday wafting over from a refurbished stereo console in the corner. Oh, great. He’s feeling sentimental.

“Would you indulge me with a dance before dinner?”

Don't have much of a choice, do I?

“I’d love to.”

Dancing with Wally is funny, in an ironic sort of way; it certainly caught you off guard the first time he asked. When you envision dancing with a powerful, deadly mobster, you think of being swept away, wrapped snugly by strong arms and a dastardly smirk, or perhaps something more courtly, like a waltz steered by a polite hand on your waist. Turns out both versions are incorrect.

Muscle memory ushers your arms open, and Wally falls into the space in between them– literally. Slack against you, his full weight is heftier than his height would imply, but not physically uncomfortable– emotionally and morally, however, are another story. An air of pure peace washes over him as his cheek nuzzles the underside of your chest, arms limp at his sides; you swear you even hear a little trill. Your face burns, but you say nothing as you begin to sway faintly to the beat, tracing a loop with your feet as you traipse along. Wally follows easily, tethered by the reluctant cage of your embrace.

“Do you remember the night we met?”

The query is felt more than heard, his gentle monotone muffled by the downy fabric of your garb. You huff softly to yourself, rustling a few gel-slick strands atop his pompadour.

“How could I forget?”

The day the infamous Mr. Darling appeared in your club, his two largest henchmen in tow, is burned into your brain like a regrettable tattoo; Gene was off, so you were covering entertainment for the night while the sisters managed the bar and floor. As you were singing the very song playing now, you detected a curious hush that had overtaken the throng of guests, and strained to cut through the stage glare and cigarette fog to locate the cause. Tracking the audience, who were all regarding the bar with varying amounts of subtlety, you nearly dropped the microphone when you saw the broad blue back of Barnaby B. Beagle, someone you’d only heard of in gossip. He gesticulated as he spoke boisterously to poor Mottie, who was as white as a sheet behind the counter. Situated a slight ways away was Howdy Pillar, who stood as motionless as a statue with both sets of forelimbs fastened behind him.

And then you noticed him. A puppet no more than 4 feet tall, but whose oppressive presence commanded full attention. He paid no mind to the (one-sided) conversation between his colleague and your friend– no, he was staring right at you. Boring into you so acutely that you felt pinned, compelled somehow to continue singing until the final note trickled away.

As if a spell had been broken, you leapt from the platform and scurried to Mottie, who stayed petrified even when you tried to covertly nudge her to the side. How avidly you wished a fissure would open beneath their shoes and swallow them whole; but, armed with years of appeasing difficult and sordid customers, you spoke.

“Evening, fellas. I hope you enjoyed the show.”

Barnaby, who had stopped talking when you rounded the bar, bellowed a laugh.

“Fellas?! Is that any way to greet the boss and I?"

He tilted forward with menacing glee, propped up by furry elbows as his claws scraped the laminate countertop. Each of his fangs were as big as your nose.

"Dontcha know who we are, toots? Or do ya just need a refresher on respect?"

The acrid smoke from his cigar blew directly into your face, making spikes of anger bubble in your belly as you choked back a cough. Just when you felt composed enough to reply, a surprisingly mellow voice chimed in.

"It's alright, Barnaby."

The shock slacking his jaw mirrored yours, although you hid it under a mask of cool indifference. You dared a glance at Mr. Darling, but the pressure of his peer chased your gaze back to Barnaby, who grumbled as he straightened back up. It was difficult to stay trained on his good eye, but you soldiered on. Fear was not something you could afford to show, and you knew you'd crumble if you peeked at the fabled gaping socket that he stapled open himself.

"I don't suppose you're Gene Clifton, aged 54, father of two, owner of this joint?" He joked, recovered from the flub.

"No, sir, but my banker would sure be happy if I was. Can I take down a message?"

"A message! I love this bird!" Snickering cruelly, he waved a flippant paw. "Y'should try that material on stage sometime, might bring ya more customers than the singing bit."

You sucked a sharp inhale up your nose. Serenity now.

"See, here's the problem. This is family territory, and in return for our protection, we charge a teensy fee. Now, we ain't unreasonable– we've sent ole Gene a few letters. And what’s our thanks for such humble hospitality? Zilch."

Oh dear. Gene doesn't bother investigating any mail the lounge receives before tossing it because it’s typically adverts. He definitely would've noted The Neighborhood's seal if he did. Regardless, the frank abuse of power only fanned your annoyance, obscuring your better judgment.

"What protection? I don't recall seeing any of your members patrolling outside. Besides, we didn’t ask for protection."

Mottie snapped towards you, looking as though she might faint. The corner of Barnaby's mouth twitched skyward, like he was hoping you'd argue, but his boss beat him to the punch.

"We can reach an agreement, I’m sure. I'd hate to see a family establishment go under, especially when they have such lovely entertainment."

Apparently Wally was so smitten that he'd accept your company in lieu of money, and so the agreement (if you can even call it that, since you were coerced) was this– whenever a rose was delivered to you, you'd attend a rendezvous with him. When you returned to your dressing room later that evening, you discovered the first gift of several: your vase.

“I knew because of your eyes.”

The floral wallpaper in front of you shifts back into focus, Wally’s voice shaking you from your recollection.

“Pardon?”

“That night, you drew me in; I couldn’t concentrate on anything else, least of all a petty protection tax. And I knew I had to have you when I met your eyes.” He sounds dreamy, reminiscing as you were before, though his framing of events is worlds apart from your own; he recalls a destined encounter with his future partner, whereas you mark it the day your wings were clipped for good.

“They shone like stars, even through the smog.”

It’s only after he’s finished that you realize you’ve stopped moving, wrapped in an intimate hug like true lovers. A strange mix of pride and disgust floods you at the compliment, stomach flip-flopping rapidly.

He untangles from you, receding so that only your hands remain connected. The newfound distance eases some of your tension, but to your horror, you find yourself mourning the loss of the husky scent of his cologne. Loath as you are to admit it, the bastard smells amazing: a dark, leathery swirl of apples and saffron that you’d buy out if someone turned it into a candle.

“Let’s not delay any longer. You must be starving.”

True to his gentlemanly veneer, he seats you at the table before settling himself. You don’t see him call, but a server emerges immediately from the doors through which Howdy left with a tray of appetizers.

There are two graces you award Wally Darling: his excellent taste in cologne, and his staff’s Michelen-quality fare. Though they adopt the four courses typical of fine dining, the dishes are more grounded, toeing the border between grandma and Gordon Ramsay perfectly. Truthfully, you’re not even sure what to categorize it as; virtually everything is transfigured into a jello, pie, or salad, harkening back to the post-war cookbooks you used to gawk at as a child in your late mother’s library. The yellowed pictures in those books appeared extremely unappetizing, but somehow The Neighborhood makes it work.

It could be because of an illusive member named Poppy, one of the 7 who make up Wally’s illustrious inner circle. She’s scarcely seen due to her fretful and skittish nature, but Wally lauds her cooking and baking skills, regaling you in the past with plenty of kitchen mishaps that occurred when she tried to decompress by experimenting with recipes and was interrupted by their more excitable comrades. If you remember correctly, he once told you that most of the menus in rotation were created by her.

The nature of these duress-dates is wholly dependent on Wally’s mood– if he’s happy, then he’ll gladly chat your ear off about frivolous happenings in his and his friends’ private lives, though he takes care to be shrewd with any details that dive too deep into the murky underbelly lying just below. If he’s unhappy, then they can be utterly unbearable; his mere existence puts you on edge, so it’s exponentially worse when he’s out of sorts, tone curt and glare fierce.

Thankfully, he’s amiable tonight. The first 3 courses march on without incident, and painless conversation flows between the two of you, even if he does most of the talking– you’re not exactly eager to share more than you have to. It’s when the server presents dessert that things go awry.

“Say, how are those triplets you work with doing?” Wally says, spooning at the Bananas Foster. “I haven’t had the pleasure of catching a performance since our mishap a while back. So much paperwork, so little time, you know how it is.”

The mention of both your friends and the aforementioned Dorelaine incident have you bristling reflexively, but you do your best to tamp it down.

“They’re well, overall. Sometimes it’s difficult for them– their manager’s a real piece of work, and we get all types at the lounge.”

“I see…”

He lets out a long “hmmmm”, like he’s reflecting on this information.

“My family has also come upon hard times. It can be… trying, sometimes, to guide my children. Especially now, when we are under unjust attack.” He confesses, wistfully resting his chin on a thread-scarred palm. “Every family requires a head, but what is a head without a neck?”

Unjust my ass. Still, the weird metaphor confuses you.

“A neck?”

At that, his catlike grin only grows. What is he talking about?

“Yes, a neck; that is, someone who supports the head. I care for my family, so it’s only right I am cared for in return, wouldn’t you say?”

Though the phrasing is puzzling, you’re fairly confident you can infer what he’s purposefully dangling in front of you, and oh, it makes your stomach plummet. Sweat breaks out underneath your suddenly-sweltering outfit; it's as if you've been tied to a railroad and have managed to divert the train through pure will for a year, but now it's steamrolling square for you. The anxiety of impending doom renders you mute, unable to piece together a coherent thought.

Taking your silence in stride, Wally leans forward, intense as he grasps your hand in both of his own. The yellow fuzz does nothing to help how clammy you feel.

“What I mean to say is, I think that it’s time to settle down."

No.

“Wh– what? Settle down how?”

“To get married, silly.”

You’re unable to help the gasp that escapes you. No, no, no!

“Get married? You mean– to me?!”

“Of course. I’ve been courting you all this time, haven’t I?”

You sputter, and he rubs your hand as if to soothe you. His many gold rings gleam under the chandelier, teasing a glimpse of your fate.

“I know in the beginning you weren’t receptive to the idea of this life, but I've shown you that I can provide for you better than anyone else.”

Your expression must betray your surprise, because he chuckles– a slow, stilted sound that sends gooseflesh blooming across your skin.

“You thought I didn’t know? Howdy may not have reported it– which I’ll rectify in due time– but I have eyes everywhere, dear. You’re quite the talented actor, though.”

That trademark simper melts into something beguiling; he cradles you as if you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held.

“I love you, and I will take care of you, as I ask you to do for me. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”

An inviting facade of genuine affection, so ardent that you almost want to believe it. Wouldn’t that be the easiest path to take? To surrender to the hand that feeds, because where it strangles others, it caresses you sweetly? It’s more tempting than you’d ever divulge, because underneath the armor of aplomb you've so carefully forged, you're exhausted. This burden has been yours alone to bear– and what a bear it is, because if you mess up, the people you love could be injured, or worse. So much worse.

Perhaps sensing an opening, Wally continues.

“Be reasonable. The family welcomes you with open arms! Haven’t you missed having a family?"

The words stab you right through the heart, and your waning resolve springs back tenfold by the fury that ruddies your vision. When you rip your hand away, he makes no move to stop you.

"My friends are my family. I don’t want anyone else, especially not murderers!” You snarl. “You kill people– and torture and maim them! How can you expect me to accept this?!"

"All in a day's work when cleaning up the city, unfortunately," Wally hums. "I wish we didn't have to resort to such things, but you must understand. As it is, puppets are treated as less than, and hardship runs rampant for both humans and puppets alike. You’ve experienced these firsthand.” With the elegance of a master conman, he touches his chest in mock respire. “All we wish to do is provide a safe haven for those in need– somewhere to rest your bones, enjoy a hot meal, and where everyone accepts you as their own. A home.”

You abruptly stand up, feeling like you’re wound so taut that you could erupt at any moment. The mahogany chair behind you tips over from the force, striking the floor with a leaden thud, though the sound is deafened by the blood rushing in your ears.

“Bullshit! You don’t have to start a gang to combat discrimination or help suffering people! Maybe that spiel works on the poor saps you trick into doing your dirty work, but it won’t work on me. The answer is no.”

All is still for a moment as you struggle to calm your heaving breaths, trembling and locked in a quiet stalemate with Wally, who’s as relaxed as ever. Your attention flits from his right eye to where the left would be, if not for the lesion carved from a notch above his eyelid to an inch below, giving the illusion that what lies beneath is impaled.

Oh shit.

The magnitude of what just transpired comes crashing down as your adrenaline flushes out. After playing it safe for months– stomaching unwanted exorbitant gifts, being tailed by his employees, and rousted to innumerous “dates”– you just rejected Wally Darling in the most aggressive way possible. So you do the only thing that might garner you a chance to make it out of this alive: run.

You’re halfway across the room when 4 thick arms suddenly wrangle and force you to halt, a scream ripping itself from your throat out of fear. Can this motherfucker teleport now?! How the hell did he get here so fast?? Thrashing, you throw your head back to search Howdy’s face, desperate for an ounce of the sympathy he’d offered in the elevator, but it is in vain; his stony visage is impenetrable, as though it had never wavered.

“How about you sleep on it, hm? Think about all of your options. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to those little lambs when their adorable shepherd isn’t around to protect them.”

Delicate fingers cup your jaw, making you freeze as Wally stretches up to plant a faux-kiss on your cheek, complete with a small “mwah!”. You scowl daggers at him as he collects your hat from where it flew to the floor, dusts it off, and lovingly places it back on your head before giving you a few pats.

“Aw, don’t be that way, darling. I truly meant what I said; you have beautiful eyes. I can hardly wait to try one on.”

With a snap, you’re hauled over Howdy’s back and spirited out of the room, presumably to be transported to wherever you’ll be staying. Hopefully not Wally’s quarters.

It’s all too much; you feel like you’re trapped in a nightmare. How else did you expect this to end? You’re not sure. With all of the awful things he’s done, forcing you into marriage is not beyond him. You just thought you’d have more time: to plan, to save up enough money to take the girls and race to the hills.

Tears gather on your waterlines, and the minute your mouth wobbles, they spill ceaselessly. Full-bodied sobs wrack you, the pain of Howdy’s shoulder jutting into your midsection compounding the profound ache of sorrow. All this time, you’ve been trying to fight, but there was no fight to be had; it ended the moment his eyes found yours across the lounge that day.

[httpvomitello]

Okay soooo~ this is my first time writing to ur acc but- I have a headcon idea about the rottmnt boys and I just laughed so hard on the inside- Okay so picture them with a short bestfriend/crush like around 5,1 or 4,11 you get the idea anyway- So their bestfriend/crush made a bet that they couldn't find them in 5-10 minutes and since reader is so short they can fit into any type of space like the kitchen cabinets maybe the ceiling maybe even the lab- and the boys are just looking around trying to find their bestfriend/crush and then maybe after so much time has passed their bestfriend/crush jumps out and scares the living daylights out of them- (*cough* Mostly Donnie or Leo *cough*) those two have the best reactions when caught off guard can't convince me otherwise- tho I feel like Donnie would be getting scared shitless the most because he always somehow forgets their bestfriend/crush is short af and can fit and hide anywhere and probably in his lab- Like just imagine Donnie in his lab working on shelldon only for their bestfriend/crush scare him shitless while he just stands there frozen staring into space trying to come back down to reality- because the poor guy got so scared his soul almost left him early- I'm actually dying picturing it and it being so fucking funny-🤣😂

Nooooo ~ The worst part is that I also find this funny 🥹 Anyways.... (I'm also short, and I think I would end up scaring them by appearing out of nowhere because of my height) Hope you like it! ♡♡♡♡

Starts off cocky

He’s laughing as he searches, all swagger, tossing out taunts like, “C’mon, this’ll be easy! You’re like, what, a foot tall?”

At first, he checks all the obvious spots, confident he’ll win

But when he doesn’t find them right away

He starts getting… annoyed

With each passing minute, he’s scrambling more and getting low-key panicked

(But will never admit it)

He’s crawling under tables, looking behind every cabinet, even balancing on his toes to check high places, muttering, “Where are you?”

By minute 9, he’s convinced they’re using some kind of stealth magic

Just when he’s about to yell for a hint

His friend leaps out of a high cabinet right above his head, shouting, “Found you!”

Leo jumps about a mile in the air and definitely lets out a yelp, only to turn and immediately play it cool

“Pfft, please, I knew you were up there the whole time,” he insists, laughing nervously while they’re laughing their head off

(He’ll never live it down).

Donnie approaches the challenge like a tactical mission

He’s positive his analytical skills will give him the edge, he’s done simulations for situations like this

He starts systematically checking everywhere he deems logical, mumbling calculations under his breath

He doesn’t even consider weird spots like tiny cabinets or tight spaces because he just assumes “they can’t fit in there.”

But as time ticks down and they still haven’t turned up, he starts… glitching

It bothers him that he can’t find them

He’s questioning his methods, his intelligence, his sanity

By minute 10, he’s pulling apart his lab in desperation, muttering, “Statistically, this makes no sense…”

Then...

BAM!

They leap out from behind a stack of lab equipment, yelling “BOO!”

He freezes

Doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, just stands there, eyes wide, brain processing while his crush is cracking up

It takes him a solid five seconds to finally exhale and snap back to reality, half-annoyed, half-awed

“How… what… That was highly unnecessary.” But inside?

He’s impressed. Very impressed.

Raph is convinced he’s got this in the bag

He’s actually low-key excited to find them

Searches quickly, carefully looking under furniture and checking behind things

His biggest worry?

Accidentally breaking whatever tiny space they might be hiding in

Around the 5-minute mark, he’s getting a little worried, muttering “Alright, you gotta come out sometime.”

(He’s trying to sound annoyed but is actually having a blast.)

After a few more minutes, they finally jump out from a hidden nook and yell, “Gotcha!”

He’s startled, sure, but instead of jumping, he just lets out a big laugh and grins wide

“Nice try, short stuff. Almost got me there.”

He’s proud

Just doesn’t totally understand why anyone would want to squeeze into such a tiny spot to hide

Raph will start opening the cabins more carefully from now on, afraid that they might be hiding there out of nowhere.

He’s 100% into it, like it’s a treasure hunt, bouncing from place to place, calling out, “Ready or not, here I come!”

He’s convinced his “hide-and-seek intuition” will help him find them in record time

But when he can’t find them, he only gets more hyped

For Mikey, it’s all part of the fun

At minute 10, he’s practically pleading

“Alright, you win! Just tell me where you are!” He even starts rapping, trying to coax them out

When they finally jump out, surprising him with a “BOO!”

He lets out a huge scream and then immediately starts laughing

“That was awesome! You’re like a tiny ninja or something!”

(Mikey gets a little paranoid though, thinking they're going to jump out at him out of nowhere.)

100% asks for a rematch immediately

Mikey just wants an excuse to play this all over again.

[umeoniii]

sweet rei

˖⁺‧₊˚❀˚₊‧⁺˖

reiner is a very sweet guy. despite his muscular and tall frame, he’s such a sweet and harmless man. super duper romantic as well.

he buys you flowers all the time, just because you’re dating doesn’t mean that he’s going to stop because he won’t. even on just an average tuesday he has a huge bouquet of handpicked flowers just 4 u. he’s absolutely head over heels in love with you. he’ll do anything and everything for his pretty girl to be happy.

if you’re feeling sad he’s right there, he’ll rub your shoulders and massage your feet asking you what’s wrong, he’ll be completely affected by your mood too. if you’re sad then he’s 10x more sad. and when you finally tell him what’s wrong he’s all over you telling you it’ll be okay and he’ll help make it all better. and he doesn’t fail to make it better.

he buys whatever he possibly thinks will make you feel better. food, clothes, perfumes? whatever it is that he’s caught you talking about on the phone with your girlfriends he’s quick to purchasing it. and when you see all the packages and him sitting by them with a sweet smile on his face you can’t help but jump onto him giving him a tight hug.

there’s nothing he loves more than seeing his soon to be wife beaming.

when you’re upset with him, he literally wishes he were dead. he’ll do anything for your forgiveness whether what he did was as small as getting a little snappy or as big as spilling a drink on your new white platform sandals.

sometimes he quite literally starts bawling because he can’t stand seeing you upset with him. obviously you forgive him very quickly because you don’t like seeing him super down in the dumps.

quickly after that he’s all over you kissing you and telling you how it won’t happen again.

the only time you’ll see him become really upset is when another man is trying to get involved with you. that’s when his actions match his looks. he won’t hesitate to beat someone into a pulp just for whistling at you. then he’ll proceed to get back up and hold your hand all innocently.

devoted isn’t even the perfect word to describe it. sometimes it feels as if he’ll do absolutely anything and that’s when you tell him that it’s okay to just stop. but sometimes he just doesn’t trust himself leaving you alone, ya’ know?

you want food? he’ll cook it. you want to take a shower? he’ll help you wash up. you have to use the bathroom? he’ll stand next to you to make sure you don’t fall in.

you’ve gotten so used to it that it doesn’t even bother you anymore.

there’s not even a slight change when you’re having sex.

when you have sex with him he’s still pampering you and praising you. callin you his sweet little princess and telling you about how he won’t let you go while he’s absolutely destroying you. but it’s not bad because it’s reiner. balls deep and rubbing your fleshy insides it doesn’t hurt, because it’s reiner.

n’ he’s just so in love with everything you do. he’s thinks the faces you make while taking him is adorable. the way you gasp his name softly and tap his back. and especially the way your belly folds when he pushes your knees to your chest. it was the small things he cherished about you.

because rei is just a sweet guy.

♡

a/n: my acc is about to become a reiner fan page >< i literally love him sm.

[prncssie]

hiiii it's my birthday and I was wondering if I could get a birthday hobie x reader?

hi pumpkin! first off, happy late birthday i hope you had sooooo much fun. so sorry i couldn’t get this to you on your actually birthday. i wanted to, promise! i just had a lot to do but here you go <3 celebrating your birthday w hobie. i’m hoping this makes it through tumblr bc my last drabble about rengoku is not showing up on the dash but it’s on my acc if you’re interested — hoping this is what you wanted | mdni, black fem coded reader, unedited

birthdays came up early in your relationship with hobie, especially considering his came a few months before yours. you found out rather quickly that he’s not a big fan of making the day a holiday.

of course, he’ll smile and plant a sweet a kiss on your two-toned lips when you, eventually, pull a tiny, gift wrapped gift out hidden — somewhere new every time — and set it in his hands. you do it every time, even hen he says he doesn’t want a single thing, and it’s always a relatively cheap gift so he doesn’t make a fuss about it. last year, it was a little necklace set from hot topic, modeled after the coraline movie’s stone and key — only $7.95 and thankfully, on sale.

however, your birthdays are different.

they’re important to you and therefore, important to hobie. he cherishes them, staying away from your affection all day while he prepares his boathouse for your arrival. he’ll get balloons and candles for mood lighting, he’ll go to the grocery store and pocket a box of cake mix and whipped icing, he’ll use the sprinkles from the night before. hobie will even chop up fruit and melt chocolate to dip them in later, following the creamy pasta he’s cooked for dinner just in case you didn’t feel like indulging in something as sweet as cake, that night.

that’s not dessert though. the real dessert comes after cuddling on the couch and soaking in the praises that fall from your lips between kisses until your lips are swollen and sheened with saliva. every year, he takes your hand and leads you to his bedroom, where he forces you to close your eyes upon stepping through the door way. you can’t know where his hiding space is. you’re too curious and would end up investigating it in secret later on.

this year, hobie managed to get you the demonia camel-311’s. how he had gotten him through his unconventional methods is unknown to you but you don’t ask, too busy fawning over the smooth, vegan suede beneath your fingertips.

“oh my god, hobie. what the hell?” you say, seated on the end up his disheveled bed, eyes round in grateful astonishment.

hobie’s has always been . . . clean but not tidy. he knows where everything is and you understand that he has a system. the random stacks of albums littered around the room never bothered you, nor did single wall covered with painted doodles parallel to the bed you sit on.

“you like em’, bug?” he drawls, showcasing his prideful smile full of teeth as he watches you go through the motions to react to his grand gift. “i’m mates with this guy who sells em’. looks like something you’d like.” hobie doesn’t bring up the deal he made to do some manual labor instead of paying such a pretty penny for these shoes.

you head rise and falls in a little nod and you set the shoes on the floor, reaching inside to pull out the brown-gray stuffing paper to keep the molding of the shoes.

this persists for a while, your gushing and prattling over the platform boots, warm and perfect for the winter. it’s all a routine part of the night, something you’ve expected — not because you knew what gift he was going to get you, but because he always gets you material gift before and something a little more after.

the after is what you both know you’re really looking forward to, after all the events that slowly passed throughout the night.

“oh my god, hobie!” it’s the same words from earlier but this time, said so much differently. it’s whiney, airy, and provocative. you can’t help it, the sound forced out of your mouth with each snug smack of hobie’s heavy balls against the brown globes of your ass, part of which glisten with the watery cream of your past two orgasms.

hobie plucks your hand slotted against the soft outlines of his abdominal muscles on his stomach. he grins, strained, and rests your palm against his chubby lips. “you g - got it, pretty.” he mumbled into the warm skin of her hands, words muffled on their way to your ears, not that you’re paying attention anyway. “ ‘s your dick, yeah?”

anything he says just comes across as faint buzzing humming in your head. your legs have begun to shake and twitch, muscles stretched and pushed up to your ears. your cunt is on full display, in its brown and chubby glory, squeezing around the length of hobie’s cock with the intent to milk him dry.

your back has long begun to arch off the soft mattress with a balled hand repeatedly making soft contact with his shoulder. you’re struggling to withstand it, writhing beneath his hold. you’re sure you would have wiggled away and up the bed had he not had you anchored in his grip. you’re struggling but you love it, finding yourself delirious with the lust that comes with being fucked within an inch of your life.

“can’t,” you hiccup, tugging at your hand encapsulated by his. you want to draw it back and push him some more but he won’t let you, overpowering your strength with his own. tears form in the outer corners of your eyes and roll down the sides of your face.

you’re rewarded with a firm smack on the chub on your round butt, leaving a stinging sizzle that has you jolting with a gasp. another wave of waterworks comes forward in your eyes. you want to sob but the ability is ripped away when hobie digs his fingers into your mouth, as many as he can until no more can fit and drool is pooling out the corners.

“you’re, god, lyin’, pet. hate that,” he pauses, pressed entirely into your sopping wet cunt, eyeing you with disdain. his fingers press against your soft tongue, eliciting more drool to pull in your mouth. he tilts his head at the sight of you, twitching and eyes blown out.

he can still feel your pussy pulsing greedily, begging for more, and he chuckles, pulling his slob covered fingers out your mouth and taking ahold of your thighs again. “you always say that but you didn’t use your safe word so i know you’re lyin’.”

you sort of just warble, feet dangling in the air. your toes, painted a pretty pink gel polish, curl and straighten with each movement hobie makes, even if it’s just him leaning forward.

“gonna tell me i’m wrong?” hobie’s voice drops into a whisper. he’s close enough for his lips to skim across your cheek, breath warming the surface of your skin.

he’s pleased to see a small shake of your head. “no,” you’re telling him wordlessly, round eyes staring right into his more slanted ones. you’re lucky he’s considered being sweeter on such a day of celebration.

���no? then you’re gonna quit your whinnin’, right?” his hand comes to plant on the round crest of your head, flattening your scalp, frizzy due to the physical activity he’s put you through.

your leg goes to circle around his slim waist, locking his body to yours. “mhm . . . ‘m sorry, ‘bie.” you’re much softer now, more pliant without the constant push and pull inside your sensitive cunt. your circle your hands around his cheeks, brushing your thumb across the smooth, seal brown skin across his face.

the corners of his mouths lift; he finalizes your gentleness with a sloppy kiss on your mouth, wrapping his tongue around yours and sucking it into his mouth. there is stringy saliva connecting the two of you. his hand atop your head serves its purpose when hobie finally begins to move again, thrusting deep in your cunt. it keeps you right where he wants you despite your wriggling.

his other hand supports his weight, jumbling the sheets between his fingers. his head falls onto the bed beside yours and you have a front row seat to the groans and pants he exudes, lost in your body.

every year when your birthday comes around, hobie picks you up, bring you to his house, and showers you in love and affection throughout the night. he makes dinner, lights your birthday candles, and watches any movies of your choice.

every year, he surprises you with a gift he had planned for months and pulls it from his super secret hiding spot. he soaks in your flattery with a grin until you’re done and putting the new gift to use.

and every year, you both wrestle in the sheets, naked bodies connected at the most intimate parts as the air grows thick and heavy with lust. he kisses you through your whines and cries, forcing blinding white orgasms out your body until you’re exhausted and tapping out.

[bingocarpenter]

i'm just trying to look out for you ★ sfw tkl fic

scream ★ ler!sam ‧ lee!tara sfw tkl ‧ post-scream vi ‧ sissy fluff ‧ nonsense ‧ semi-old fic

a/n: as stated in my other fic, i actually posted this before on a previous acc i had once upon a time, so if anyone has read this before that's why! do not read if you have intentions to judge, hate, or disrespect. kindly scroll past please. ty!

word count: 1.3k

It had been a long day of online college work, and Tara was finally about to be done at 11:30 pm. But before then, she had been nothing but snappy to everyone – Sam, Chad, and Mindy to be exact – and they had finally given up on trying to give her words of encouragement and offer help. All but one.

Sam knew how grumpy her sister could get when she was overwhelmed and tired after a full day of screentime, but she was not about to let her go to bed with a frown on her face. She needed a distraction, and she had just the thing. It was gold.

As the clock struck the half-hour mark, Tara slipped into the living room to grab some water and stretch her legs, which is where she found Sam glancing back at her from her place on the couch.

“Almost done?”

“Yeah,” Tara snapped as she gulped down some water. “Why are you still up, Sam? Don’t you have work tomorrow or something?”

“Yeah, I do, but I want to make sure you get your work done without a bad attitude.” Sam smirked at the younger, “You know your professors can tell when you’re fed up with their assignments by the way you write.”

Tara scoffed with a roll of her eyes, “Oh please, I’m not a baby, Sam. I can do shit on my own, thank you very much.” She interlaced her fingers behind her and arched her back with a strained groan, loosening the tight vertebrae of her spine. “And my professors can suck it. It’s their fault for assigning dumbass papers.”

“Uh-huh, and it’s your fault for waiting to do them at the last minute.” Sam rose from her spot to cross over in front of the hall to Tara’s bedroom.

Tara, on the other hand, just turned back with an irritated sigh and put a hand on her hip. “Just go to bed, Sam. I’ll be fine.”

“Nope. I’m staying up until you finish.”

Tara’s face grew sourer as she pushed past her big sister and mumbled, “Good luck with that…”

But that didn’t bother Sam, for instead of watching her walk away, she hurried after her to pass her by and dart into the soft glow of her room.

“Sam!” Tara growled as she tore after her, not able to catch up very well due to her short height. She pushed open her door to find the older sitting at her desk with a smug look, and she huffed in annoyance. “Look, I don’t have time for this. Get up so I can finish my work and go to bed!”

Samantha shook her head and wiggled herself further into the chair, “No, I think I’m gonna stay right here–“

“Sam!”

“–until I see a smile,” she finished, staring at her sibling’s face, which twisted in confusion. “You’re not finishing unless you change your attitude, Tara. I’m not getting another five-minute-bitch-fest call from one of your professor’s all because you can’t write appropriately when moody.”

Tara scoffed and shook her head. She wasn’t in the mood to argue, and she was not about to let this draw out to a useless fight. “Fine. I’ll just sit on you to finish.”

And she did. But instead of Sam turning the seat around to face the computer, she stayed put and wrapped her arms around her sister.

“Sam, I’m serious. I’m not in the mood–“

“I know you aren’t, but I’m here to change that,” the older retorted, smirking into Tara’s neck as she started wiggling her fingers over her clothed abdomen.

“No-ho, what are you–?” Tara could barely manage to speak before kicking out with a startled yelp, “Sa-ham, stop it! Let me go-ho!”

“Not until I get a smile!” Sam giggled, nuzzling her baby’s sister’s neck before placing playful kisses to it.

“Na-ha-haaa!” The younger cringed, raising her shoulder to avoid the contact while her body slipped from her kicking, having the friction of her shirt against Sam’s body slide against each other and ride up to reveal her tan skin.

And Sam took the bait, holding her sister up with one arm wrapped around her ribs while the other attacked her bare stomach, roaming across the warm skin like she had all those years ago.

She and Tara had both grown up a lot, but there were some things that still remained…

“I bet I can find your smile now, huh?” The older cackled, stroking the curves of the younger’s sides before skittering around the gist of her belly, finding herself amused at the uncontrolled fluttering that had its owner giggling like mad.

“SA-HA-HAAAM STA-HA-HAAAP!” Tara was helpless, kicking her legs and leaning into her sister in defeat. She was definitely smiling now, no doubt about it. She had always been too sensitive for her own good, but Sam always seemed to have a special touch that automatically made her hyperactive nerves sport at huge grin and hearty laughs. “I’M SMILING, I’M SMI-HI-HI-HILING!”

“How do I know it’s real and you aren’t faking it?,” was the taunt of the night, for it led to Sam sweeping Tara up and pinning her on her bed so she could climb atop and target her sides and ribs with both hands. “How do I know, Tara? You’ve gotta show me!”

“I’M TRY-HI-HI-YING!” Tara didn’t fight her sister, just let her arms and legs flail at a desperate attempt to prove her point. The feathering on her delicate flesh had her squealing in delight as each rib was traced with black nails. Her face muscles already started to ache, and her voice was drowned in a fit of shrill laughter. “PLEA-HEA-HEASSE! SAMMY-HEE-HEEEYY!”

Sam relished the bliss joy and sensitivity her baby sister was beaming with as she chuckled upon the sight of her pearly whites. But she still had one more trick up her sleeve now that another area was open. “I do remember your tummy being one of your weakest spots, but what about your underarms, Tara?”

And before the victim could react, a flurry of light strokes and encouraging giggles from above had her crying out with tears pricking her eyes, “OH NO-HO-HOOO, PLEASE! SA-HA-HAAAM, I CA-HA-HA–“

Tara’s voice cut off into silent laughter that had her throwing her head back and her eyes screwing shut as she kicked her feet relentlessly. Her smile was prominent now alongside her gasps, which finally caught up to her when the tender licks on her armpits seized and she felt Sam’s weight shift to sit back on her thighs.

“Good girl,” Samantha teased, giving Tara’s exposed stomach one last scratch to earn a weak snicker. “Just like the old days, huh, Tara?”

Tara just laid there, a big grin still plastered on her face while her cheeks burned with a rosy glow, and her chest heaved alongside her asthmatic lungs. She gave a shy nod as a few more giggles slipped past her lips. “Yeah… Didn’t know I need it either…”

Sam smiled and pulled her baby sister’s shirt down before helping her sit up. “Think you can finish your work now with a better attitude?”

Tara rolled her eyes, still out of breath and on fire from embarrassment. “Yes…as long as you leave me alone and go to bed.”

“Oh, is that a challenge?” The older quizzed with claw like fingers that threatened the younger’s exposed neck.

“No-ho!” Tara shoved her away and went back to her desk.

“That’s what I thought,” Sam nodded before turning to exit, “Now, get that done so I don’t have to come back for round two.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Tara dismissed her with a wave of her hand. But just as Sam was about to shut the door, she turned around. “Sam?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you…”

“Anytime, Tara.” Samantha gave a genuine, heartwarming smile, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[crguang]

Hear me out. Vampire Shalom!

Wait, if we are a vampire, does Shalom's blood taste like cola gummy? LOLOL

It's a joke from CN commun since her hair resembles a cola gummy jelly candy

-🎹

dont even joke lad… first of all yes. yes. yall thought kafka would make a great vamp? lets bring in miss mostly unfeeling, calculating, distant and always composed shalom. apathy is a big part of vampirism to me, after a certain age you realize time is a circle and certain vamps will take on more of an observer position towards humanity because they’re not part of it. it’s easy to grow apathetic when you’ve seen history repeats itself over and over, when you’ve watched lifetimes pass and when you’re inherently disconnected from your humanity. shalom is so vamp coded in that way; she lives amongst humans but is not part of them because she was made anew. you make a vampire, there’s nothing organic about it. she’s a different kind of vamp than kafka (who likes playing with her food), she prioritizes efficiency over anything else. also a classy eater, will lure in “willing” victims with well-placed flattery and warm smiles and she prefers docile ones over those who make feeding more difficult by thrashing around. shes very intense in the way that it’ll seem like she’s giving you her undivided attention and has an excellent memory so she’ll remember every single detail you ever said or did, which makes you feel listened to and understood. that’s why i call them willing victims, she’d entice them in letting her feed from them by building a one-sided connection with them and they somehow get out of that encounter just wanting more. master manipulator. she drinks from the neck, she likes the pretend intimacy of it. very clean, no unnecessary bloodshed and doesn’t waste a drop. she finds the unpredictable side of humanity fascinating and so she spends a lot of time observing it, she understands humans on a cognitive level but things that can’t be explained in their behaviour puzzles her in a good way. only remembers traces of her own humanity like the faint notes of a perfume in the air but she can never quite connect with it. that’s not to say that she would be cruel, quite the opposite, which makes me insane. aaaaaa she was made to be a vampire, she blends in well yet still leaves people with the feeling that there’s something off about her… she’s so deceptively warm but that’s because she can’t actually be warm. you know what i mean? it’s not because she’s mean she just has not felt warmth in a minute. i could fix her

shalom’s blood would just lack some nutrients i feel like LMFAO, i don’t think she particularly cares about her body and eats whatever she has to, plus she has zero strength whatsoever so those bones are lacking some calcium or something. her relationship with her body is honestly what interests me the most about her, it’s still a human body so she must have all the physiological reactions to getting hurt but after she got shot in the neck and just smiled like idk. you drink from her and she just sits there limp and docile oh i’d be freaked out. her pulse races but there’s no reaction from her otherwise unless she figures out that it bothers you, then she adjusts her behaviour to make you more comfortable… so sentient doll-like sometimes, im scared

i always thought cola gummy was a really cute nickname lol it’s just sweet, also how chief is represented as an orange idk where that comes from but it’s cute. also!!! if u ever want to dm me your ideas you absolutely can, i don’t bite! no need to make a second acc but if that makes you more comfortable then it’s also cool by me <3

[yutasbimil]

Progress

gryffindor!beomgyu x fem!hufflepuff!reader ft. slytherin!jaemin | txt ft. nct dream ff. ✦ (3/8) [series fic] !!! also posted on my ao3 acc! { here } tags: hurt/comfort ; filler vibes cw: friendship/love, bestie-lovers energy, frenemies vibe, friends to lovers, lots of bantering, tutoring, teasing, crushes, confessions, jealousy, tension, slow burn, unrequited love, love triangle, hurt-comfort, eventual smut lol, break up, eventual happy ending, FLUFF!!! ! not that comfy w/ 2nd POV, but hope 3rd POV is good for y'all ♡ word count: 0.9k

part 1 | part 2 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8

do not repost © yutasbimil (2024)

Almost tracing a trail underneath his feet, Beomgyu had been going back and forth, pacing in their Common Room. He had been like this for the past hour or so.

Biting his nails still, Mark Lee can’t help but remark on his antsyness. “Bro, you good? Is something bothering you?”

Beomgyu looks at him, though, still a bit shaken. “Oh, just about… Potions.”

“Okay, yeah, there’s a big test coming up, right?” Mark says, still laidback by the crimson couch. He lightly pats the cushion, gesturing to him. “My friend actually excels at that, maybe he can help?”

“Yeah…” Beomgyu mindlessly nods, his thoughts just trailing away from him further as he is plotting. Now how am I going to get him off our case?

“I think we have a joint class with Slytherin tomorrow or so… you know Na Jaemin?”

Almost like a snarky response, Beomgyu sighs softly as he nods. “Yeah, know him quite well… on how much he had been making himself known to Yumi.”

Dang it, Na Jaemin, you are even brought up in these instances.

“Oh, she’s the Hufflepuff girl he had been telling us… So, she’s close with you guys?”

Almost like a slip-up, Beomgyu didn’t mean the latter part of his opinion of the Slytherin to be known to the other.

He just casually nods along with Mark. “Actually, Yumi is great at Potions. I’ll ask her instead.”

“Heh, cute. No wonder they get along well.” Mark says with amusement. But opposite to Beomgyu as it visibly comments on Yumi and Jaemin being… Damn it.

“I guess.”

It left another bitter bile by Beomgyu’s throat.

-

The following day, the aura of Na Jaemin is as bright as usual. However, the smile he brings is hard to ignore because of how obviously a centimeter wider it is from ear to ear.

It is quite obtuse to his tranquil attitude upon sitting at their table. He usually greets them loudly the moment he squeezes himself in with the Dreamies.

Remaining quiet, Jeno and the others can’t help but nudge Jaemin on how stupidly in a daze he is. And he didn’t even bother hitting back. Weirdo.

“Ya! You rascal, why are you that happy? Huh?” Jisung broke the silence. “You haven’t won the Quidditch match yet.”

“It’s as if you already did.” Haechan rolls his eyes.

“Heh, sorry…” He was the first to apologize. Jaemin just scratches his head apologetically, and goes his merry way getting food on his plate.

The younger might have been implying Jaemin ditching Quidditch practice yesterday. But he was on to some important business, promise!

“Doesn’t seem sorry.” Mark side comments, pointing out his goofy smile while eating some plain-ass potatoes.

“I’ll practice lots later, don’t worry.” Jaemin just nods and goes back to his own world.

They want to slap away that smile of his on how dangerously it might rip off his cheeks. It’s clear as day that it was the Hufflepuff’s girl effect on the Slytherin. But is the outcome this instant?

Still no shenanigans? Comebacks? Anything…?

Maybe the lack of coffee in his veins?

Heol—

Renjun picks on his food with a ‘tsk’ off his lips. “I’m guessing ‘all good’?”

It’s apparent that he’s intrigued even if he appears irritated. It’s just different from the usual loudness of the friend. Time to pay him back—

The group turns to him, expecting on Renjun to know more as he’s mostly the first for Jaemin to pour out his thoughts and gears at.

Jeno nudges Jaemin, excited for him to spill the beans. “Aye, so what happened?”

They just stared at him, expectant.

Jaemin opens his mouth. “Just… great things.”

For once, lost for words huh? Impossible—

“Aish, just get on with it so we can start.” Chenle lowers his book at the slightest, the meager impatience spills through his tone. It is more on for him that he’s in a hurry to start focusing on other things.

His focus got lost in the contents of the book moments ago, and his ears are leaning more on the group as they get into another flurry of chaos.

“All flags are green and ready to go.” Jaemin gives them a thumbs up, mostly directed at Renjun as it’s mostly their code?

“Going positively well with Yumi huh?” Mark beams, teasing more as Jaemin 

“The tutor went well is all that I can say.” Jaemin puts it out there, more on giddy as he continues now that they’re made aware of it. “And now… well, we’re getting there, Yumi and I are close enough for something to develop into more.’

“Yo, Bro! Letsgooo!” Mark stands up to fist bump and chest pump the other as if to commemorate a winning game.

“So it’s sure go that she’s your date for the Year-End Party?”

“With that…” Jaemin pauses, his lips with a slightly crooked smile, but he shrugs it off. “That’s for her to decide. We’re fairly new, and I know she’s got the usual customs on that with her group. To be fair, I haven’t directly asked her yet, but I’m aware she’s got plans beforehand. Later, I’ll try again.”

“So she’ll get back to you on that?” Jisung clarifies. Jaemin bites off his food, nodding.

Haechan supports himself with his arm on the bench, laid back as he points out. “But at least…”

“You got a girlfriend!” Mark completes the statement, and the others hollered along him. 

Jaemin pushes him off as the Lion tackles him. Back on the clock.

He shushes them to sit the back down as it’s still a lazy mid-morning in the Great Hall.

“No, no, not yet.” Jaemin presses, but leaning more on the positive end. This silly crush of his turned out to progress more successfully than expected. Of course, it’s hard to get it off his chest that quickly. The warmth and butterflies cages in him. “Not yet. But it’s getting there.”

※ my masterlist | #enjeiwrites ※

[louisisalarrie]

hii! as for your last text... I'm a new Larrie (for over a year) so I wasn't there when it all happen, but what I can understand why people say that.

First of all I want to say that, although I do believe that Larry is or has been real at some point, there are always many things that make me doubt about it, I can't help but my mind look for all possible explanations for what happens...

So I agree with what you said about why ziam didn't distance themselves and larry did, but this is the non-larry explanation that I have in my head: L and H when the ship started they followed the jokes, they themselves promoted it... (if I'm not wrong), so it's obvious that it didn't bother them, but then it starts to get bigger, and L starts dating Eleanor and H has his little relationships (dont know how to call them in english lol), let's say they were all real, and there are people who start to deny those relationships are true, and that, not only you, but also the people closest to you are all lying for you... So, the larry ship by itself may not have bothered them, but a lot of people overanalyzing every move and trying to prove with everything that those relationships are not real, it might be hard and hurting. So I think it would be understandable if they themselves, or perhaps management as well, decided to separate publicly trying to reduce the rumors. It doesn't mean that they had a fight or that they stopped being friends, just that they publicly tried to interact with each other as little as possible to relax things a bit...

idk, it's the non-larry explanation that I can think of, as I said I wasn't there so maybe I've said something wrong, and besides, english is not my first language so I may not have done the best job writing this. Anyways, I hope it makes sense.

And just to finish I wanted to say that you are my favorite acc here, especially because of the respect you always show for different opinions <3 bye!

Don’t apologise for your English!! This was done excellently and also you are far more clever than me who can only speak one language lol. Thank you for the kind words <3

This is the main theory that antis use against larry, but I’d argue that there is far more proof for larry being real than not. It just makes it look more suspicious if they did that, ya know? Ships have been around for ages and it’s like, the majority of the time people just play into it, like the other boys do, but larry very clearly didnt which just yeah… made it massively suspicious and we continued to get all this proof and bloody matching tattoos over the years, and they looked miserable and weird in every “relationship” they were in.

Everything was just so fake and I can’t accept any of those “girlfriends” were real relationships. Plus, Larries are a massive chunk of the 1d fandom, so if I was their manager wanting to make all the money I can, I’d be getting them to play into it and not shy away, personally. But they were far too obvious lol

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

does dilfguru swipe with his middle finger and searches up slang meanings

ofc <333333 i think he’s pretty tech savvy honestly he just can’t be bothered most times 😭 and he has zero social media presence (aside from the insta acc gojo bullied him into making) so if you make some obscure tiktok ref he will Not know what the hell you’re talking about. ”what’s an aura” …. save him

[antichildeismoving]

sugarbaby!reader / tartaglia and la signora (sfw)

gn!reader has caught the attention of not one but TWO of the Fatui Harbingers. These are based off notes I took for my Signora/reader/Tartaglia multi chapter. If you’re interested in it there’s an much more nsfw preview on my acc, just scroll down a bit.

content warning: yandere vibes, manipulation, isolation.

Signora and Tartaglia have never worked well together, so when they both fall for you it’s a disaster.

You find yourself torn between two of the most powerful people in Teyvat. Any private life you might’ve had evaporates as Liyue’s tabloids and storytellers focus in on you.

Soon enough, Mondstadt’s newspapers pick up the story too after one of their journalists questions Signora’s frequent trips out of the city.

You’re pretty sure that Signora likes fueling the gossip. When starts to take a toll on your relationships with friends and family, and you begin to suspect that this may be her way of trapping you.

(You’re right in thinking that Signora is leaking information to the press, but her real motive for doing so is just to piss off Childe.) and also because she’s an exhibitionist

Tartaglia is blissfully ignorant to the attention. He’s smart— there’s no way he’d have lasted this long as a harbinger if he weren’t— but it seems as if he can be willfully oblivious when it’s convenient.

(Yes, Childe is ignoring the publicity on purpose. He doesn’t want Signora to know how much it bothers him.)

Weirdly enough they have very similar taste in clothing, so they always end up buying you duplicate items and then sulking about it. You’ve suggested to each that maybe they should try to coordinate their gifts instead, but neither seems particularly enthusiastic about the idea.

Tartaglia is sweet with you and surprisingly gentle. He can be a bit shy about PDA, and when you ask him about it he reveals that you’re his first romantic partner.

This throws you for a loop because: a) Childe is incredibly handsome, b) he’s in his mid twenties, and c) apparently you were his first kiss.

Signora is pretty much the opposite. She’s a very sensual person and will keep her hands on you at all times during a date. Also, she loves getting caught with you in compromising situations (again, exhibitionism).

But you can’t even call what she does public displays of affection because even now she’s incredibly aloof.

It’s weird. The whole thing is weird. You’ve wanted out for months but it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen any time soon.

Maybe it’s time to start looking at witness protection. In the meantime, enjoy having your bills paid for you!