#and sometimes i forget that i was not always in a little bubble of whiteness

[queenofzan]

me like, well maybe i just don't know as much about black masculinity as i thought. maybe i'm reading this wrong bc i'm white

like i didn't literally go to prom with a black gay dude???

[icewindandboringhorror]

Various recent pictures of things

[pupwashing]

thoughts on dad curly waif 💓

went a little crazy w this I will not lie… tw for incest!!! also reader is 18+ don’t get the wrong idea tumblr pls and thank you ^_^

dad curly.. he’s kinda oblivious! he’s not a bad dad by any means, but sometimes he’s as clueless as a toddler.

doesn’t even realize how your looks of affection have lustful intent, or how you greedily leer at his body. he just chalks it up to his little girl being affectionate.

he doesn’t flinch when you sit on his lap one night, nor does he mind. any extra time with his darling daughter is enough for him to not even bat a blond eyelash.

you straddle his muscular thighs, small hands splaying over his equally muscular chest. he’s huge, always has been. you’ve always been enamored with his size.

simply admiring his body quickly turns into your soft lips slotting with his, and curly just lets it happen. his princess has to practice for when she gets a boyfriend, no? he’ll teach you how to use your tongue and set the boys on fire.

he slips his thick thumb over the muscle, letting you suck on it as his hands slide down your panties.

he feels how slick you already are, as if you were anticipating this result. he’s not going to leave you needy, though. what kind of father would he be if he didn’t finish the job?

two large fingers plunge into your needy cunt, forcefully scissoring you open. his fingers are big, but his cock is even bigger, and curly can’t have his poor girl tear.

once your hole is stretched wide, he wastes no time pulling down his sweatpants and boxers, letting them pool at his ankles.

his dick is huge, too big for you to take it all the way. he won’t force you to do it, either. he knows your limits better than you do.

the pretty pink tip glistens in the dim lighting of the living room, pearls of pre already coming from his slit. he’s as ready as you are.

large hands settle on your hips, helping you sink down on about half of his cock. from then, the spotlight’s on you.

you rock your hips, watching as his dick slides in and out of you. he keeps a tight grip on your hips, making sure you don’t push yourself too hard.

the squelch of your pussy makes his cock twitch, and the gummy walls of your pussy make him feel at home.

curly can feel his balls tighten, and he knows it’s about time to blow his load, but he can’t forget about you, his lovely daughter.

his thumb swipes over your clit, sticky due to all the mess you’ve made with your pretty cunt. it doesn’t take long for you to cream ‘round his cock, orgasm washing over you like a high tide.

curly pulls out of you, stroking his dick until he cums thick white ropes on your body. he couldnt possibly do that inside of you. he’s not that far gone. seeing your blissed out expression is worth it, though.

it doesn’t take long for him to calm down from his orgasm, and he picks you up. he’s gonna run you a warm bubble bath and get you cleaned up. it’s the fatherly thing to do.

[lavendermin]

the lovers, reversed | stellaron hunter sunday

pairing | sunday x fem!reader

wc | 1.6k

genre | angst, one sided love, unrealized feelings

warnings | mdni, alcohol mention, brief mention of sex, blood, wounds, unhealthy relationship, spoiler I guess if sunday really does end up being a stellaron hunter (have not yet played 2.3)

Fresh wounds, a few gashes. Nothing he couldn't treat. Because you wouldn't have anyone else though Firefly has always offered.

"Hold still," Sunday quietly instructs as steady hands work quickly to disinfect and dress unsightly marred skin.

You wince and clutch the sheets until your knuckles turn white. The pain was never easy, but a consequence of your recklessness nonetheless.

Under deft fingers you're all skin, no shame. Not when it's him.

Another whimper you can't suppress escapes your lips, and maybe it finally breaks something in him because you hear him sigh quietly. With his teeth he swiftly pulls off one of his gloves and holds it to your lips.

"Bite down on this," he instructs, voice calm and level. "There's still debris in one of the gashes. I have to take them out one by one."

You can only nod, not registering much else as the pain has your vision tunneling. It's another twenty minutes as he tries to work as quickly as possible. It takes everything to keep his composure despite your muffled cries of discomfort.

"This should have been done in the medical wing." Sunday's reprimand has little to no bite as he clears the medical supplies from the coffee table he had pulled up from across your room.

Your breath is weak and shaky, but still a gentle thing he's used to. "Too bright in there. Makes me feel like a lab rat within those white walls."

"Smells too clean?" he chuckles. Something he can't help around you more recently. There's an innocent and peculiar way you view things. Much like–

Sunday shuts the cabinet in your bathroom a bit harsher than he intended. He can't think of her... not right now. It would only bring emotions he didn't need to process—couldn't process at the moment.

There's red on his hands, on his clothes, staining his once pristine gloves. The awful metallic smell feels like it’s burned into his nostrils—a nauseating mix of crimson and the strong smell of sterilizers as he cleans the tools. His hands work on their own under the running water of your sink, almost out of body as his mind wanders. There’s a slight tremble he catches. Pathetic, he thinks, unable to keep it together in such a dire time.

The 'script' did not mention anything of a necessary death, but of course it would never detail wounds or misfortunes in detail. Some of those just come with the job. And sometimes he would feel a bubbling anger at the twisted fates that often befell you. But he knows it's a spiral that leaves him down a foggy road, one he shouldn't tread on.

Still, you're alive, and he's here. And for now, that's enough.

Your strained voice pulls him back to his body. Back to the present with a clearer head.

Right. The painkillers.

Sunday is quickly back by your side, pushing the small pill past your lips and lifting your face gently to give you water.

"You forgot," you tease despite your hoarse voice.

And those golden eyes you love dearly can't even bear to look at you as he sits next to you on the bed. There's no response other than a halfhearted hum he gives you. You know he didn't forget, and his lack of correction knowing how matter-of-fact he is only further sinks your heart.

But you don't get to tell your heart who to love.

The now-wrinkled glove he gave you is placed next to his leg. "Sorry I messed up. I'll buy you a new pair."

"Thank you..."

"You're wel-"

"You should say ‘thank you’. For the gesture. But don't apologize for the inevitable from missions. What's done is done," Sunday interrupts, voice firm. A little cold.

"I-" You're cut off as he grabs your wrist, his eyes unfocused as he looks at the ground.

"If you had done as I said– You could have gone missing. A lot of things could have gone wrong. Don't use yourself as bait. If anything happens to me, you escape by any means necessary. Understand?"

The grip is a little less than comfortable and you can only nod. Obedient only if it was his words that commanded. It brought a feeling he didn't want to describe rushing through his chest. The way your eyes looked at him—a mix of fear and blind adoration. It made him nauseous to consider himself worthy of such affection.

The morals of why he kept you by his side—of why he sought you during moments of his own damned weakness... He would dwell on that another time. If his morals were in a slow decline, perhaps he would even turn to burn the words stuck in his throat with the liquid he once detested and swore would never stain his lips. The liquid courage might bring him tumbling into your arms, an eagerness to be held and soothed for the sin he feels tainted with.

That maybe in his drunken stupor with his face buried in your neck and his throbbing frustration filling you up, he would realize even in nothingness, there is you. Always you.

A rebound. A close second. A replacement.

Sunday subconsciously has been latching onto you. It’s something he doesn’t remember starting, something he can’t stop nor explain. You, who are like an injured little dove to him, easily hurt and predictable in seeking comfort with his presence.

At first he firmly tried to keep his distance, remain cordial. But now… You provide him some psychological need to keep his same routine from before or have some semblance of familiarity amidst this new path he's been set on. This relationship was just something platonic, he swears by this. Just an innate need to protect and guide you since you were also a clumsy new recruit.

You couldn't help it—falling for him. Slowly being consumed by an infatuation that morphed into a hopeful yearning that filled your chest with a syrupy thickness of strong emotions you were inexperienced with.

And Sunday was at a loss. That wasn't part of the plan. Well…granted he didn't have much of a plan with you. The platonic acquaintance he had built with you was nothing more than for his own gratification. His desperate attempt at normalcy. Someone to fill the void of not being able to see his dear sister.

Still... you're so willing to just give and give and give to him. Anything, for even the slightest possibility of returned affection. Even if you don't outright confess to him, he sees it. In your actions, your speech, your eyes.

Would it truly be so bad to take that which is offered in earnest?

A heart in his hands with nothing to show for it. Lies to himself that this closeness is his attempt to bring you salvation. To settle your heart.

He knows how your script ends, looming over his consciousness. Testing his heart as if he were a newborn god stumbling over his first creation meeting its written demise. Some part of him is too scared to ask if you know it, too. Maybe there's still some naïveté in him if he believes for a second that you don't. A hope that your heart remains innocent and lovely and–

For now Sunday lets you love. It would be a bitter thing to not take the heart you have handed to him.

The painkillers have started to work, your body finally able to sleep for a bit after he changed your soiled sheets from treating your wounds. Before he leaves, Sunday presses his lips to your knuckles and idles for a few moments to watch your steady breathing. Sweat glistens on your brow from the exertion the wound treatment put on your body. Your endurance was nothing to be laughed at.

Sunday doesn't need to turn to know who's outside your door when he leaves.

"Was there something you needed?" The question lacks any warmth.

Kafka chuckles where she leans against the wall, fiddling with a card in her hands. "Here to drop off your compensation for the mission and look after the little lamb," she replies simply, throwing the card to him. He catches it between two fingers. "She lost her phone this past mission so make sure to give her that card for the time being."

Sunday's eyes narrow. "I'm looking after her."

"Poor thing sent me a message asking that I check in on her so she won't bother you. Unless that's a problem?" Her unreadable smile is something Sunday is growing to detest.

"Not necessary. I'll be handling it." His voice is firm, a warning woven into his tone with careful consideration. A natural habit from his years as the head of the Oak Family.

"Really now? If you don't want me looking after her due to trust issues then Bladie can–"

"No." Sunday can feel his heart pounding in his ears, a frustration deep-set in his veins at the pure thought of someone that isn't him near you when you're at your most vulnerable. He wishes he could wipe that smile off Kafka's face. Victim of her teasing again. Remember your composure, a conditioned mind rings. With a clear of his throat, he continues, "No, that won't be necessary. I've already cleared my schedule to ensure her wounds are looked after so there isn't any scarring. I'll take care of it."

Kafka relents and pats his shoulder as she passes him. "Very well, birdie. Sounds like you have our little lamb's heart in your pocket. Or perhaps it's your own?"

Before Sunday can ask her what she means, she's already vanished from his sight. His hand reaches into his jacket pocket when he feels something rigid and pulls out a card he's sure she placed there.

A tarot card depicting a dove perched on a lamb. The lovers.

[magics-neptunes-things]

Comfort

Hi guys!

It was Cata's birthday tuesday, so here is a little something for her :)

It's from a request too, I really need to sort them x)

Also please Barca, win today i need it.

Enjoy!

TW : Lost, angst.

There you are. The first lost of Barcelona for this season. It’s coming at the first moment of the year honestly, you would have preferred to lose against another Spanish team than to lose against Chelsea during the Champion’s league. You still have another game to win and go to the finale, but it would be at London and pretty hard. You already know it.

Looking around you, you saw that all of your teammates are gutted. Lucy is sitting on the ground; Ona went straight to the locker room and Alexia let another players comfort her. For your point, you just stay up where you were when the whistle whistled. Your hand on your hips, you weren’t looking at something special at first.

Until your eyes went on the silhouette of your girlfriend. Cata is sitting on the ground, a little like Lucy unless that she’s leaning against the goal post. Her knees bent against her and her arms surrounding them, she has her eyes fixed on her feet.

She seems so sad that you forget almost immediately your proper sadness. Walking slowly in her direction, you try not to ignore the other people talking to you. When you reach Cata, you kneel in front of her.

“Hey” you say quietly, putting your hand on her arm.

She looks briefly at you, before shaking her head. You know that she feels guilty about the lost, but you think that every single player of the team has that feeling. You don’t say another word, getting on your feet again before helping her to get up too. You don’t want to have to do the post-game interview, so you take another way to go to the locker room.

Of course, the general mood is awful. Nobody’s talking, nobody’s looking at each other. It’s so tense that you propose at Cata to go take a shower at your apartment to go home sooner. Cata agrees with a nod, still not talking. Knowing how much she’s bubbly, happy and smiling usually, it breaks your heart.

You say goodbye to your other teammates, grabbing Cata’s hand to take her with you. Hiding under her hood, she’s still silence. People forget sometimes that she’s only 22 years old, Cata forget sometimes too you think. She’s always way too hard with herself.

You manage to get to your car without meeting fans or journalists, you usually take time to talk with the people coming to see you, but today your girlfriend’s happiness is more important than anything else.

“You want to put some music?” you ask at your girlfriend when you are on your car.

She nods, taking your phone in her hand before looking at something you both will like. You’re not really hard to satisfy honestly, as long as you can concentrate yourself while driving. When Cata put your phone down, you take her hand in yours, squeezing it lovingly.

She looks at you and make a half-smile, which isn’t so bad. You interlink your fingers and take the way of your apartment. Cata doesn’t ask you where you are going and when she realizes that you’re going to yours, she doesn’t protest either.

“Do you want me to cook something?” you ask softly when you’re home.

Cata just shakes her head, sitting on a stool in your kitchen, where she followed you. You put a bottle of her favorite Prime in front of her and try to cross her eyes before talking again.

“Pa amb oli?” you propose.

“With white onions?”

She raises a hopeful look on you and you can’t help but smile. This meal, coming right from her natal island of Mallorca is like her comfort food. You kiss her cheek softly before turning to the fridge to prepare two plates of the dish. You like it too; the first time you try it, it was when Cata took you in Mallorca to meet her family. You loved every single thing coming from this island, maybe because it’s linked with your girlfriend, who you are really fond of.

You are deep in your thought, rubbing the tomato on the bread with an ability that would have made Alexia proud, when you feel Cata’s body against yours. Hiding her face in your neck from behind, she hugs you so tight that you have the impression that she wants to come under your skin. Literally.

You smile and keep cooking, thankfully you don’t need to move a lot around the kitchen for this dish. When you are finished, you turn around in her arms and take her face between your hands. Looking at her with attention, you try to choose wisely your words, not wanting to hurt her. Or make her feel more terrible that she’s feeling right now.

“You know that we didn’t lose because of you, right?”

She frowns, not answering. That’s exactly what you thought. Right after she sights and look away, you softly pat her cheek to drag her attention in you again.

“I’m serious. No one play good today, unless maybe Alessia. We were all too scared to lose, maybe too tired too. We have 90 minutes left. We can win and go to the finale.”

“I don’t think Jona will put me on the goal again” Cata sights, shaking her head.

“Why that?” you frown.

“I didn’t have a clean sheet. In the World Cup when Misa play bad, she went to the bench for the next matches. Vilda didn’t hesitate for a second.”

“Yeah, well first don’t compare that asshole to Jonatan please” you hiss, hating hearing that man’s name. “And if goalkeepers were benched every time, they let a ball pass the net, we won’t have a lot of them on the pitches.”

She shrugs, not really convinced by what you are saying. But you don’t insist, knowing that she needs some time to figure out all of this. You chose to give her plate and follow her wherever she wants to eat. She chose your balcony, from where you have a good view on the sea and the port.

And, when you see that Cata ate her meal in five minutes, your smirk and push your plate in her direction. The goalkeeper raises an interrogator gaze on you before smiling when you signal her that she can finish your plate.

After that, she takes the dishes in the kitchen without hearing your protests that you can help her. Then she comes back, takes you from your chair in her arm, making you squeak in the process. She laughs and you can only smile. You love hearing her laugh.

When she throws you on the sofa, you already know the end of the evening. Endless cuddles in front of TV. She puts Netflix on before laying on top of you. You let her do it, drawing smalls drawing on her skin, under her top.

“I love you” she mumbles out of the blue, several minutes after.

“I love you too” you smile, kissing her head in a weird angle.

She smiles when she sees you doing it, raising herself a little to be able to kiss you right on the lips. She strokes your face with her thumb, and you find yourself blush under her gaze. It’s quite intense but you love it.

“Thank you” she whispers, almost shyly.

“What for?” you ask with curiosity.

“For being you. And have take the time to learn with my mom how to make the perfect Pa amb oli.”

“All the best for the best” you smirk.

She rolls her eyes before kissing you again several times. Just like you were losing some interest in the film you were watching and getting maybe a little too work up, she stops and smirk before laying on you again.

“You’re the worst” you groan.

“Oh? I thought I was the best?”

You can hear her smile in her voice and you roll your eyes. You don’t answer though, but you know that she knows what you think. She’s the best and you are definitively way to in love with her to be mad at her.

[archangeldyke-all]

I just saw this art and had some CEO Sevika Thoughts 😵‍💫😵‍💫

https://twitter.com/2400db/status/1777950953817207073

O. M. G. i'm combining this with another ask i got because these two reqs go together like peanutbutter and jelly. EEEK! (also, the link doesnt seem to work now, but it was art of two characters-- i'm not sure who-- where one was sitting in a spinny wheel office chair, back to her computer set up, and the other was straddling her, trying to talk on the phone while the first girl is feeling her up)

the last tidbit in your vacay sex w ceo sev hcs inspired me. could we please get something soft with high!sev after both her and r have smoked?

i like to imagine her hair in a bun with a hoodie and sweatpants on. just looking so pretty and soft and staring at reader like :]

i also like to think she likes skin to skin. :3

🌕

men and minors dni

from time to time, you and sevika work from home.

her penthouse has three bedrooms. one for the two of you, one for guests, and one you've turned into a little study for the both of you for times like this.

two desks on opposite walls, a few bookshelves, a couch, it's a good space. it's helped a lot over the years. when sevika's sick, you manage to convince her to just spend the day in her study instead of torturing herself by dragging herself to work. when the two of you are feeling burnt out, a day taking calls and video meetings at home always help.

and today, you're using it for the best reason of all. it's a snow day.

the city below sevika's windows is covered in a blanket of snow. you've been watching the white powder fall all day. sometimes the blizzard rages so hard, that all the windows in sevika's high rise are greyed-out, and it's like you guys are living inside of a cloud.

sevika has no meetings today. you don't either. so, in an effort to stay cozy, you both decided to stay in your pajamas. sevika looks so snugly in her big sweatshirt and plaid pajama pants. her feet are socked in mis-matched animal print socks, one cats, one ducks. her hair's in a messy bun, and she's still got a bit of sand in her eye even though it's almost lunch. you love her like this.

it's been a slow day. with the whole city trapped inside, the usual twenty calls an hour you're used to answering has dwindled down to two.

at lunch, sevika manages to convince you to smoke a joint with her.

"c'mon babe." she whines, kissing up your neck as you stir the tomato soup heating up on the stove. "no one's gonna need us today. and we're already so cozy, 'n we got nowhere to go..." she wiggles the fat joint she'd rolled in your face. you huff and roll your eyes.

"i need to talk to HR." you grunt, snatching the joint out of her hand and shoving the bubbling pot of soup to the side. "my boss is peer pressuring me to do drugs with her." you tease, quickly lighting the tip of the joint against the burner before putting the soup back. sevika snatches it from you before you can take a puff, running out to the balcony. "sevika!" you squeal as she throws sliding door open. "you're gonna freeze your ass off!" you laugh.

"come here!" she demands, waving you over. you giggle, turning the burner off and running after your wife, grabbing two blankets off the couch as you go.

the balcony is spacious and covered, but with the wind this high up, there's only four inches of space that hasn't been covered in snow. you and sevika squeeze together in the shelter, shivering and huddling under the blankets as the blizzard rages around you.

"you're insane!" you laugh, sevika pulls you closer to her chest, puts the joint, somehow still alight, between your lips.

"puff." she says. you forget the cold for a moment-- the demand sending a shock of arousal down your spine. you take a hit, keeping eye contact with her, and she grins, before pulling the joint away and pressing her mouth against yours.

you exhale, and sevika inhales the smoke from your lungs before she shoves her tongue down your throat.

she pulls away with a smirk. you gulp. "there. warmer?" she asks, putting the joint to her lips as she smirks down at you. you huff, then stick one of your freezing cold hands under her sweater, pawing at her nipple. she squeaks, you giggle at how quickly her nipple gets hard in your fingers.

you guys smoke the joint fast, after that, faster than you probably should've smoked a joint that big. but it was so cold, and the only relief was the warmth from the joint, and you couldn't really feel the high out in the cold...

which means that once you guys get inside, giggling and shaking the snow off your blankets and out of your hair as you quickly warm up, you're both hit with a very sudden, very intense high.

you know you're fucked when it starts to feel like you're underwater. you know sevika's fucked when you look up from your feet where you're struggling to get out of your slippers, and find her giggling at a dick she'd drawn in the frost on the glass wall of the living room.

"sev." you whisper, grinning. she looks over at you, her smile growing impossibly wider when she sees you. you can practically see hearts in her eyes, and you snort. "oh shit." you laugh.

"we still got work." she giggles. you bite your lip.

"fuck." you chuckle.

"ooooh babe! food!" she says suddenly, grabbing your hand and dragging you to the kitchen.

logically, you know that it only takes about ten minutes to make two grilled cheeses and heat up some soup. but it feels like it takes a year.

you keep turning the burners off by instinct-- and sevika has to laugh and turn them back on, reminding you that you're cooking lunch.

she keeps trying to 'season' the food-- which is concerning for a number of reasons. one being that sevika's a horrible cook, who doesn't know the difference between a teaspoon and tablespoon; two, being that she's holding the cinnamon sugar while she says it. the third, most concerning thing is that you're tempted to let her. cinnamon grilled cheese? your high, munchie focused mind thinks, that could work...

eventually, the food is finished, without modification. sevika has to smack your hands twice to remind you to wait for it to cool off. you have to smack hers once.

you guys eat, curled up together on the couch in your study. it could be the weed, but you think it may genuinely be the best grilled cheese of your life.

sevika seems to agree. she keeps moaning and grunting as she chews and slurps her soup.

it should gross you out. she's too high to mind her manners and chew with her mouth closed. really though, it's just turning you on.

she looks up at you, her cheeks stuffed with grilled cheeses, tomato soup dripping down her chin onto her lap, and you bite your lip. she chews, swallows, then speaks. "you wan' som'a mine?" she offers.

your heart leaps in your chest and you surge forward, pressing your mouth against sevika's. she groans, her hands flailing, and she clumsily puts her dishes on the little coffee table. the second she's free, you straddle her lap, clawing at her shoulders, pinning her to the couch. she pulls you down to grind against her, sinking her nails into your hips. you shudder.

you aren't wearing anything under your pajama pants, and you know sevika isn't either. it's just two thin pieces of flannel separating you. for a moment, the dry fabric adds a delicious friction to your movements--but you soak through your and sevika's pants in less than a minute.

and, fuck, you feel like you're in heaven. you feel like you're melting into sevika, it feels like her fingers are made of magic, the sweet grunts and whimpers she's letting out sound like music.

she's like putty in your hands too, chasing you when you pull back, whining when you pull away to breathe. you giggle, smiling down at her and tucking her flyaways behind her ears, she sighs, nuzzling against your palm, and you lean down to kiss her forehead.

"love you." you whisper. she smiles.

"i love you too." she says. you watch in fascination as she licks her lips slowly, looking you up and down. "so... y' gonna ride me now or what?" she asks, grinning and waggling her eyebrows at you.

you burst into a fit of giggles, and sevika grins, nuzzling against your neck and sucking hickeys into your throat. "mmm... okay." you agree. you can feel her lips curl into a smile against your neck, her fingers tugging the drawstring on your pajamas undone.

suddenly, your work-phone starts ringing on your desk. you and sevika both turn around to glare at the sound, and you groan when you realize what it is. sevika makes a choked sound. "n-no--" she manages to whine before you pull yourself off her lap and start walking over to your desk.

sevika squawks, and then in a flash, she sprints over and squeezes between you and your desk chair, flopping into it and tripping you on the way. you squeak, but sevika catches you around your waist, pulling you onto the chair, and her lap, in a straddle. you huff, glaring down at her, and she grins.

"answer the phone." she demands, just like earlier on the balcony. you shiver, and she grins, tugging your pants down over your ass as you bend over her and grab the phone off your desk, pressing it to your ear

"hello?" you choke out. sevika chokes on a laugh, smacks your ass, and you flail, squeaking and smacking her shoulder as you do.

the voice on the other line-- somewhat familiar, a recent client's assistant or something-- asks to speak to sevika. sevika, the exact moment the voice says her name, sinks her teeth into your neck while her fingers start to circle your clit.

"ah-huh-wh-sheeee's, uh, she's not available right now." you say, cringing. sevika's free hand tugs your sweater up, and you smack her forehead-- already knowing what she's planning.

the voice on the phone babbles on and on-- you're not sure about what, you're distracted by the cocky smile she shoots you before ducking in and taking your breast into her mouth. you moan, a horrible, very audible "aaah!" right into your phone.

sevika grins like the devil.

"sorry, s-sorry--there's a bug!" you choke out before the person on the phone can ask you any questions.

oh that's okay. the voice says. i'm the same way, especially about roaches. ew. anyways, as i was saying...

sevika shoves three fingers past your lips and down your throat, you gasp, sputter, and choke, and sevika pulls her fingers free just in time for you to mutter a "sorry, continue," down the line, before shoving her fingers back in your mouth.

it's possibly the hottest thing that's ever happened to you. she keeps thrusting her fingers in and out of your mouth, tiny clicking wet noises escaping with every thrust of her fingers as drool starts to drip down her wrist and your chin.

you try to keep your moans to a minimum. you don't succeed very well.

"you like this?" she whispers. you nod, your eyes closed, tears soaking your cheeks as she continues to fuck your throat with her fingers.

she giggles, then pulls her hand away.

you gasp, your eyes flying open for you to glare at your wife. she just darts forward and gives you a quick kiss, and then she sinks one of her drool-covered fingers inside of you.

you bite your tongue to keep from whining. she kisses a path to your tit, gives it a few nips, then bites your unkissed nipple as she sinks a second finger in your cunt.

"uhhhn, fu--she actually just walked in--here she is--" you spit out before pulling the phone away from your mouth, letting out a long whine, and pushing the phone into sevika's ear. she glares at you, pulling her mouth away from your tits with a pop that you're certain whoever's calling can hear.

"hullo?" she grunts, pressing the phone between her shoulder and ear, freeing her hand to fondle pull her pants down as she sinks her third finger inside of you. your thighs quake, her cock springs free, and you moan.

"fuck, sev, please."

she grins, gives your cunt a few more good thrusts with her fingers, before pulling them out and spitting in the palm of her hand, giving her cock a few quick pumps, and then lining it up to your cunt.

it's your turn to get your revenge. sevika always needs a second to adjust before she can sink all the way inside you-- overwhelmed by the squeeze and warmth-- but today you don't allow it.

you sink down on her in one swift movement, grinning at the pathetic, "hhhhaa--" it draws out of her. you're so fucking lucky whoever's on the phone is a chatterbox.

you start bouncing on her cock, your ass smacking her thighs with each go, and sevika's got the most pained, pathetic look on her face as she bites her lip to keep her moans in.

you chuckle. "you're lucky you're cute." you whisper, before pulling your shirt off and shifting so sevika can muffle her moans in your tits, one of your hands tangled in her bun, at the base of her neck.

you tug the phone out of her hand, taking a deep breath and collecting yourself in a true show of your strength and professionalism-- and steadily, (not at all breathy, no matter no much sevika will pretend otherwise) say: "i'm so sorry to have to cut our conversation short, but it seems the blizzard's just knocked the power at our facilities out, and we have to go handle that before our heat goes next. we'll be sure to call you back as soon as possible."

oh, well i'm so sorry to hear that! i hope all your employees are safe! i must say, i thought people were being dramatic about the snow, but it must be awful bad where you are if-- you hang up.

"fuck!" you shout, throwing the phone back down on your desk. sevika growls against your tits, and it a second, shes standing, keeping you on her cock with a solid grip on your ass.

she drops you on the couch, not losing her rhythm for a moment as she balances on top of you. eventually, she has to breathe, and she pulls away from your tits with a gasp. "i fucking love you." she whimpers. you giggle.

"i love y-you too, sev." you whisper.

"louder, baby, nobody's listenin' anymore." she demands. you whimper, clenching around her cock, and she chuckles, one of her hands darting down to rub at your clit.

"s-sevika! baby, i love you, i love you!" you gasp. she grins.

"there you go."

"i love you, please, i'm so close you're gonna-- i'm gonna-- sev, i just-- you--"

"whaddya need baby? anything, anything."

"kiss?" you whimper.

sevika cums at the word, her eyes rolling back in her skull and her arms shaking as she tries to keep her pace. it's so hot, and you're so close, and she keeps fucking you even as her cum starts to leak out of you--

and then she tears her eyes open, gasps, and smashes her mouth against yours.

you fall apart, cumming and clencing sevika's sensitive cock hard. so hard, in fact, "oh, b-baby, i!" sevika collapses against you, her cock pulsing inside of you a few more times, and you gasp.

the moment you catch your breath, you burst into giggles.

"did you just cum again?" you ask. "twice in one minute, sev?!"

"fffuck offff." she mumbles against your tits.

"that.. was so hot." you say. she giggles now too.

"g'night."

"sevika." you tug her bun. "it's the middle of the day."

"i'm done. g'night."

"c'mon." you pout, gently tapping her cheek, trying to get her to open her eyes. "we'll have a warm shower and i'll make hot chocolate? with whiskey? we'll turn the phones off, okay? cuddle in bed a bit?" you bribe. she peeks one eye open.

"can i eat you out in bed?" she asks. you snort.

"i was thinking bed would be more like a nap, babe."

"mmm. can i eat you out in the shower?"

"you can eat me out after our nap."

"can i wake you up with it?" she asks, a sparkle in her eye. you roll your eyes.

"only if you actually let me sleep. and you try to sleep too, okay?" you ask. she nods. "one hour, at least." you demand. she pouts, but nods again, and you burst into laughter. "kiss." you voice your final demand. sevika grins, and leans in happily.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub

[dwindlinghaze]

HIII YOU’RE SO AWESOME! I was wondering if I could request a extroverted introvert!fem reader x introverted!Remus, where she is introverted and very sunshiny in public and remus is grumpy but he’s literally madly in love with her? like sarcastic, confident Remus is with this like bubbly and giggly girl and just a cutesie little story about them?

I hope this isn’t too much!

-Anon 🫶🫶

hi, lovelyy! thank you for requesting this! i loved the idea a lot and i hope you don't mind me writing r as girly and feminine :) 🫖👛🫧🪽🎀

sunshine and midnight rain

(remus lupin x reader)

contents : fluff, kissing, sweethearts in the sweetest love 😭🩷

　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

when he first saw you walking this morning with the brightest smile ever, he wanted to hold you and forget about everything in schedule today.

he saw you waving to a ravenclaw, blowing the girl a kiss as the two of you laughed. it was so adorable and heart warming. he couldn't believe it.

you plopped down next to him, greeting your boyfriend a good morning.

"morning, angel," he replied, kissing your head with a gentle yet firm pressure.

"how'd you sleep last night?" you asked, rubbing his cheeks softly.

"um good," he replied shortly. "would be better if you were with me but i'll survive," he smiled.

"oh rem, you can always ask me to be with you whenever you want okay?"

"i know, lovie," he replied, kissing you once more on your soft cheek.

when you two first started dating, it was a huge shock to the friend group. you two were the absolute opposite of each other and maybe that's why you two completed each other so well.

remus needs rays of golden sunshine, a beautiful princess-like girl whose heart is veiled with fresh daisies and soft hands to keep himself grounded while you needed those midnight rains to keep your flower field of your heart blooming continuously.

he remembered the first date you two had was on the most whimsical day ever. he laid out a picnic date for the two of you in the middle of a field of wild flowers.

when he saw you walking in from the door, his eyes were met with fleecy skin, sparkly eyes, light pink clothes, and a pure heart to tie them all together.

he couldn't believe it. such a dreamy girl wanted to be on a date with him!

he felt special. lucky. and best.

"you're absolutely stunning," he mumbled in awe as he saw you sitting down next to him, your soft skirt calmly hovering above his leg.

"remus, so are you," you said, smiling at him with a smile so sugary.

remus realised how quiet you were being. but he knew that he's not the cause of it. you were calm and peaceful, enjoying the soft winds surrounding you two.

"i made some food for us both, i hope you're hungry," he said, putting a good amount of food on to the plate he brought.

"mmm looks tasty," you beamed. "you must be a very good cook."

"i try," he smiled weakly. "i hope it isn't too bad, sorry if it is."

you took a portion of it, placing it on your mouth as you hummed in contentment. "it's delicious! do you cook a lot?" you asked.

"i help my mom sometimes, yeah," he blushed, squeezing your soft knuckles.

"oh that's so sweet of you!" you giggled.

he loves you. so very much. he has been looking for you since he first heard his mother reading a romance fairytale when he was a child.

of course he wasn't thinking of you at that very moment. but he was hoping to have a lovely fairytale, he's glad his hope was fulfilled by meeting you.

he knew at the first moment he landed eyes on you, you will wrap his fragile heart in the most precious and endless love. he wasn't mad about it, he knew he will always have you by his side and he can rely on you whenever.

despite his rough and grumpy exterior, inside his heart was painted with your colours of pearls: pale white, pink, and softly glowing.

his friends teased him about it.

"how can she make you so soft and puddly? you're like a stone with us," sirius groaned. they're best of friends. remus is familiar with sirius' hyperbole jokes.

remus didn't reply, he kept on reading.

"moony, what do you call a dark house with pink interior?" sirius asked, one of his jokes.

"hmm?" remus replied, unamused.

"a remus!" sirius roared with laughter, james laughing along as he patted sirius' back for his horrible joke.

usually after a full moon, remus wouldn't even break a smile. he physically couldn't. but ever since you're his, he smiled whenever you visited him at the infirmary.

even james told you about it. "our grumpy remus smiles more often now that he met you," said the boy when you returned from the hospital wing to eat breakfast.

"really?" your heart warmed. you loved making people smile. it felt like you had accomplished something so special. although it's not a hard thing for people to do when you're around.

"yup. he usually sulks around the room after his furry little problem but now he looks... healthier and more alive somehow," sirius said.

"i'm so glad. i think he deserves the best of the best."

at first remus' friends were hesitant about your relationship, afraid that remus' cold demeanour would gloom down your shine but it never did. if anything your shine had brightened him up.

his friends were grateful and happy for remus. they know you're the perfect girl for him. a big part of loving someone else is to love yourself first. and you did that both so wonderfully.

remus isn't scared of you not accepting him for his lycanthropy. though he does have a fear of hurting you one day. that doesn't stop him from loving you and being open to you about himself.

he knew you're open minded. with your bold beliefs of equal rights in society. he wasn't scared. he wasn't in pain. after all the awful things the universe had given him, a lovely sweet girl is there, making the life he has bearable again.

the first night after he told you about his lycanthropy, you wanted to stay for him. but he insisted on you to not to do that and meet him the next morning instead.

no, he wasn't embarrassed of his appearance right after the transformation. his scars don't heal overnight. he physically looked the same the night before and the morning after, except that he's more relaxed the next morning as for the slumber really helped.

he just doesn't want you to be tired. he wanted you to sleep well. having the rest an angel always needs. of course you wanted to be with him before and after. but you know better than to go against him during his weakest point.

you see him the next morning, bringing a bag of chocolates and croissants.

you placed the bag on the bedside table, reaching for his hand instead. he was still asleep, eyes fluttering cause he's dreaming. you caressed his rough and scarred fingers softly, humming a tune.

remus woke up in the most peaceful way ever. seeing you beside him, playing with his fingers. "morning, princess."

you looked over at him, smiling so big. "oh morning, my remus," his heart fluttered when he heard the nickname. he is yours. forever yours.

"you're here, darlin'."

"i am, i brought breakfast for you," you grabbed the bag of chocolate and croissants, opening them.

he sat up, reaching for the pastry but you pushed his hand away, making him frown in confusion. "i will do the work for you. you've been doing so much to me and i want to do this in return," you giggled. "sit back and relax."

"you don't have to," he said.

"i know. i would never do this to anyone except you."

remus smiled at that, opening his mouth to let you feed him. "you're such a doll. you're so good to me and sometimes i feel like i don't deserve this treatment... i'm not good enough."

"rem, don't worry about that," you smiled at him softly, wiping away the drop of chocolate on his chin. "you have to love and accept yourself. i'm here to be with you all along the journey. i want you to be good to your body, be good to yourself and never say such things like that. life becomes good when you love yourself."

"is your life good?" he asked.

"the best," you answered. "i've learned to be grateful for everything- 'cause i have everything," you chuckled, squeezing his knuckles. "maybe i'm not the ideal type of girl in every person''s eyes but i am my type of girl."

"you're everything i aspire to be," remus said, holding his hand over yours over his heart.

"i love you," you said.

"i love you, darlin', i won't ever stop," he smiled.

[coyotelip]

wolfstar microfic: patronus || fluff finally! wolfstar raising harry pt.6 || @wolfstarmicrofic || wc: 516 || all parts on ao3!

"Oh, what's that?” Sirius's voice breaks into a yawn as he enters the kitchen in the morning, ready to start preparing breakfast, but sees a man at the counter.

Remus is placing breakfast on plates and waving his wand to make them float to the table. When he's finished, he dries his hands on a towel and turns full attention to his husband in the doorway, who is studying the scene in front of him with sleepy and surprised eyes. In two steps, he walks over to Sirius and kisses him on the forehead as a greeting.

“I know you lost a little sleep last night because of me, so it's only fair that I return the favor.”

Sirius takes a closer look at his favorite bacon and cheese on toast breakfast and the mug of coffee next to it, and then turns his gaze to Remus in front of him, now looking into the man's eyes with tenderness and love. “Thank you,” he says briefly, knowing that words will not convey the full range of emotions that are swirling in his chest at the thought of belonging to this man.

Without any more words, Sirius puts his arms around man's neck and presses his lips to his, kissing lightly, innocently, just giving off his warmth. But Remus's arms go around his waist and press him harder, his fingertips squeezing as if to demand more, so the kiss deepens and Sirius steps aside to press his back against the kitchen table.

They're both good at math, but it's impossible to count the amount of time they've spent like this over the years, entwining their bodies and kissing each other with everything they have in them. Sharing a breath, it was easy to forget about the world around them.

However, the world around them did not disappear and sometimes had the audacity to remind them of itself, so their blissful bubble of morning tenderness was penetrated by the high-pitched childish voice of Harry coming down the stairs for breakfast and shouting, “Good morning! You see, I can wake up by myself and come down on time! Moony, you promised me that cool thing for that!”

“Argh!” Sirius can't help but groan as he breaks the kiss and turns to the kid, who is running in his pajamas and messy hair. Turning back to Remus, he speaks softly into his lips, “Please distract him for a few more minutes.”

Remus chuckles softly in response and pulls out his wand again to whisper a spell and release a white light from the tip of his wand in the form of a wolf, which runs playfully toward Harry and twists around him, earning the boy delighted squeals and laughter as he tries to bury his fingers in the wolf's fur around his neck, but his fingers pass through the disembodied animal.

Sighing in relief, Sirius pecks his husband on the cheek, “So creative as always,” and resumes their strong kiss, enjoying the moment before Remus disappears into the floo for the day.

[hornytofugirl]

Let Me Make It Up To You (Ayato x Fem Reader)

cw: minors dni, nsfw, fem!reader, fem!reader x ayato, masturbating, pillow humping, boob play, some dirty talk, creampie

note: my very first smut... be gentle with me lol

word count: 1.7k words

plot: you're home at the kamisato estate, frustrated that ayato will not be at home again due to a late-night meeting at the sangonomiya shrine. you start to touch yourself under the sheets, not knowing that ayato is coming home early due to cancellations

Ayato wasn't going to be home tonight again. This time, he's going to a late-night meeting at the Sangonomiya Shrine, and will have to stay overnight on the island. Sometimes, you ask if you could accompany him on such business trips, but Ayato always gave a sweet, yet tight smile, and said, "No, love. I will always be back." You often open your mouth to argue back and point out that sometimes, he was gone for two weeks at a time, but you could see his eyes darken. No, he wouldn't give you explanations, but you trust him, and he trusts you.

The trust you have in him doesn't diminish the dull ache you feel when you sleep in your bed at the Kamisato estate, the coldness of the sheets a reminder that he wasn't going to come back until... who knows. He did mention tomorrow night, but sometimes, last-minute changes happen, and then he wouldn't be back until another day. You swallow the hope bubbling up in your throat. Don't expect anything. You reach your arm out to where Ayato would be if he was sleeping next to you. It's cold. There's nothing to hold. Of course he isn't here. Why did you even try?

You close your eyes. It's going to be a long night. You feel a tingle below, and you already know what it is. You want him, but he's not here. He's not fucking here. He's not fucking you here.

You slowly trail your hands down into your shorts, your hands cold and clammy. You shut your eyes tight to forget the fact it's you touching yourself, and not Ayato touching you. Your fingers swiftly move back and forth across your clit, and you curl your body up, imagining it was Ayato's long, elegant fingers instead. You quicken the pace of your fingers going back and forth, visualizing Ayato's elegant face, his light blue hair falling over his face as he focused on making you moan his name.

"Ayato... Ah-" You moan softly, your hands feeling warm and wet. You imagine Ayato smiling as he deftly moved his fingers into your folds, whispering, "Ah, the way you moan my name is beautiful. Do it again," and without warning, he shoves his fingers into you, and you instantly feel your walls clamp onto him.

"A-Ayato!" You yelp, thrusting your fingers inside yourself over and over. You try to replicate Ayato's rhythm, his intuition when it comes to you. You swiftly take a pillow and press it between your legs. You start to imagine Ayato holding your hips from behind, ready to put his cock inside. You press the pillow against your clit, imagining that first thrust...

And the lights come on.

Ayato's hands and face fade away. Now, it was just you and the pillow under the blanket.

You feel your face warming up, and not in a good way. You panic and look at the pillow between your legs, and you can see a little wet stain in the middle. Fuck. You swiftly flip the pillow, and you emerge from under the blankets, ready to make a silly excuse to the housekeeper.

The light harshly blinds you, and you immediately squint looking down and trying to locate the housekeeper's dark kimono. However, you see white pants instead. Your heart skips, and you look up.

Ayato's face is staring right back at yours, and his face is unreadable. There's a small smirk that surely shows amusement, but his eyes...

"I've left you at home for too long. Is this what you do when I'm not here?" He asks, his voice calm and still. You freeze. You couldn't tell if he's mad, disappointed, or amused.

"I-I can't help it," you utter, "I miss you. Can I not cope with your absence in my own way?" You feel your eyes fill up with salty, hot tears, and before you could tighten your yukata with embarrassment, he swiftly grabs your wrist and pins you down on the bed.

"I'm not mad at you, love. I'm mad at myself. Let me make it up to you." Ayato says, looking down at you, slowly untying your kimono top. Your cleavage starts to slowly spill, your small, hard nipples popping out.

Before you could say that he doesn't need to make it up to you, he rushes into your chest, and sucks on your nipple. You cover your mouth to stop yourself from screaming with pleasure. He licks your left nipple in a slow circle, squeezing your right boob hard with your right hand. You can feel the hum of your moan vibrating against your hand, and you proceed to press your hand harder to your lips. To have the rest of the estate hearing you moan? Embarrassing.

However, Ayato stops squeezing your tits, takes your hand and has you completely pinned, both of your wrists trapped within his hands. He presses his lips against yours and grinds himself against you, his white suit grinding against your sleepwear. You can feel his cock poking against your thigh and your mind races. Oh god, he's so hard. You moan his name in his mouth, and you fight his hands so that you can wrap yourself all over him, but he holds you firmly in place.

"Like I said, my love, let me make it up to you." Ayato says, his eyes overshadowed with lust.

"You don't need to! It's not your fault-"

"I will make it up to you. Stop talking." Ayato said, his voice cool. He stares at you intently, and you immediately shut your mouth. He swiftly unzips his pants, and quickly grabs both of your small wrists in one hand so that your hands are straight above you, you arms completely up, your whole body naked and vulnerable. Ayato towers over you, covering the light above - his shadow over you.

His warm, hard cock trails within your wet folds, but doesn't quite go inside. You instinctively arch your body up, wanting Ayato's cock inside of you, but he doesn't let you get your way. His dick slips up and down your pussy with ease, his dick slick with your wetness. He moves his hips just so that his wet dick presses against your clit, and you let out a whimper.

"Ayato, please. Go inside me," You beg. You watch as his dick goes up and down, and in every place but the place you want it to be.

"Then look at me, love. Then maybe I'll go in." Ayato replied, "I can't tell if you want me or not if you're just going to look at my cock like that. So, look at me."

You muster up the force to look at Ayato. His eyes pierce right back at yours, and you can feel him thrust into your folds again, this time going faster. You wiggle, but you keep your eyes on him, with the hopes that he'll finally go inside you if you listen to him. But he keeps on moving his slick dick on you instead of inside of you. You feel your body boil with want. You moan, and your hips move wildly, hoping that somehow if you move your hips at just the right angle, he'll accidentally just slip in and proceed to do missionary.

"Please Ayato, stop teasing me-" You moan, and then that's when he thrusts his dick inside.

"Oh, fuck." Ayato groans, and then takes his hands under your ass, and raises your body so that his dick can completely and deeply be inside of you. He thrusts quickly, each thrust opening you up further and further. You wrap your arms around his broad back, your nails digging into his warm, smooth skin. You don't want him to stop. You don't want him to go. You claw and scratch to keep you inside, your walls tightening.

Ayato, noticing your claws, thrusts harder and harder, making your moans choppier as he puts all of his force into his hips. He slips his hands under your back and flips you over so that this time, you can be on top.

However, he wraps his arms around your back so that you would have no way to slip your pussy down into his dick with your hips. You were on top in terms of position, but that was it.

Before you could protest and volunteer to ride him, he thrusts his dick up inside, and you moan instead of speak. Your eyes roll back with pleasure as he proceeds to pull your hair back, your boobs bouncing in his face, his cock still thrusting inside your wet pussy without any sign of stopping.

"You look so pretty with your hair pulled back, taking my cock like this. You're such a good girl," Ayato says, his voice breathy, yet husky from thrusting quickly into you. His words only made you moan louder, you now being conscious of the way you looked. Did you look pretty? You couldn't think - all you could do was feel. All you could do was feel his cock ramming against you, and you can feel yourself tightening to make every thrust more pleasurable for him.

"Oh god. I'm almost there." Ayato mutters, thrusting into you with more fervor. You can almost feel your orgasm coming too, and everything starts to black out. You feel your legs tense, your pussy feeling flashes of pleasure-

"Ayato, cum in me, please!" You scream, and you can hear Ayato moan with satisfaction - with something warm filling up inside you. He cups your ass and makes sure that his cum is lodged all the way up inside you before letting you go. You look behind to see his cum trail out of your pussy, Ayato's cock glistening with your juice and his cum under the bedroom light. You look at him, and you give him a light kiss.

"I think you've made it up to me." You say with a smile. Ayato looks up at you, his eyes now light, and with a relaxed smile.

"I'll cancel my meetings tomorrow. I intend to do more, my love."

[kenposting]

New Guy Part 2! Ah!!!

Summary: Ken invites you over for dinner at his house - something you were greatly looking forward to! Until you noticed something was on his mind.

WC: 4.2k

AN: literally so many people asked me to write more and i just wanted to cry wtf .......... i just feel so silly like i just like him!!! and u guys like him too gosh i luv u guys!!!!!! wtf!!!

Read Part 1 here: New Guy

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀⋆˚✿˖°⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Ken was off today and you really, really missed him. For some reason. He brought a sort of light to the diner that was just not there before he arrived. Sure, he made zero fucking sense 90% of the time, but he didn’t take himself too seriously, and that was incredibly refreshing. 

The girls you worked with snickered behind him often, though, and you did pick up on his face whenever he saw them laugh at a question he had or an encouraging comment he’d make. He really was trying his best, but it seemed no one took that into consideration. 

Perhaps that’s why he asked you to come over after your shift today. You never laughed at him, you always answered his questions no matter how simple they were, and you actually spoke to him like you respected him. Because you do! 

It was an odd feeling to keep looking up at the clock. You didn’t have class since it was now Summertime (and neither did he, as important as studying Beach was to him) and, upon realizing Summer meant a break from college, he very hurriedly asked if that meant he could “take you out sometime – but, you know, only if you wanted to, I mean, I don’t want to make you feel pressured or anything…” 

He was so cute for whatever reason and you found yourself unable to let that go – it’s like he wasn’t real; like he hadn’t been tainted by the rest of the world. He cried – literally cried – the last time you were late for a shift because he thought something bad had happened to you. You promised you’d make it up to him however he wanted and all he could think of was asking you to teach him how to ride a bike. You didn’t know why he was like… that… and you didn’t worry yourself trying to figure it out. 

The directions he gave you to his apartment were drawn in crayon on the back of a paper placemat from work. He made sure to include a tiny house and tiny diner and lots of arrows. He knew the way well, too; as if he had recited it to himself lots of times. Maybe he was scared to forget where he lived. Now that you thought about it, he never drove, only ever walked, and he did say he was new to town when you met him a few months back. 

His house was tiny and sweet, only six short blocks from where the two of you worked. You could tell he took great care tending to it, even just by observing the front yard. It was blocked off by a metal gate and seemed to be an older home, simple and freshly painted eggshell white. He had planted flowers around the outside beside the front step before the small patch of grass began. 

You couldn’t see it, obviously, but he had been pacing around inside for half an hour, nervous about seeing you. And you seeing him. Did he look okay? Was his house okay? He was just beside himself, which didn’t go away at all when he heard a gentle knock at the door.

“Hey, Ken!” 

He stood meekly in front of you as you opened the door, nervously folding and wringing his hands together, scared to do or say something that would make a bad impression. He was nearly hiding behind the door. This was silly since you worked with him almost every day (and hung out with him almost every evening). You noticed a shift over the last few weeks – like his bubbly demeanor had subsided a little. It was probably your coworkers getting to him. 

“Thanks for having me over. I like it so far!” 

He smiled sheepishly and looked at the ground, a blush arising on his cheeks as he seemed to regain a little bit of himself at your presence. 

“Thanks! I’ll show you the rest of my mo–” 

He stopped himself, brows furrowed, like he was going to say something out of habit, but remembered something and decided against it.

“My house, but it will probably only take, like, five seconds. It’s pretty small.” 

He stepped aside, holding the door open for you (something ‘gentlemanly’ he had learned from observing other couples at the diner – he was proud he noticed this). You saw his hands shaking, but you appreciated the confident gesture anyways. 

You stepped in beside him as he closed the door behind you, taking in the scenery. His house was… definitely… something. 

“My friend Gloria helped me find it and even paid for the deposit so I could live here and work! I paid her back, of course.” 

He was confident in his home, it came across in his tone of voice. He had surely made it his own. It was loud as hell. The walls were a bright pink color, but somehow it kind of worked. 

“They helped me paint it too! Gloria and her groom-husband and their daughter.” 

Brushing past his bizarre choice of words (but what’s new, it’s Ken), you surprisingly felt relief within yourself at hearing she was married. You hadn’t realized you were holding your breath on that one. 

Your eyes glanced around the place, taking in all of the little things that were so… him. It was like a frat house, but way nicer; cozier. He had shelving all around with little trinkets carefully placed everywhere, some of horses, some of small glass fish, and even some of tiny people. He had put so much thought into these scenes of humans just having fun, one shelf showing a scene of a bunch of friends playing beach volleyball and another showing guys in all black posed in various dance positions playing rock-paper-scissors. 

“Ken, this is so sweet. Did you make all this yourself?” 

He looked aside and blushed, shrugging off the compliment. 

The adjacent wall had framed photos of people dressed in what you assumed to be Halloween costumes. A scene of a fierce man in a gold tracksuit posed next to a blonde girl with a sparkly dress on, the framed photo sitting proudly next to a shot of a group of girls (and one boy) in a mock supreme court dressed in all pink jumpsuits. 

He opened his mouth to tell you about the people in the picture, but you watched as he teared up just thinking about them. It must’ve been a sensitive subject, so you thought it better to not ask. 

Above his (ridiculously messy) desk were tacked drawings on the wall. Crayon drawings. You saw him making them on his breaks. There were little doodles of horses, and some of people having fun at the beach, but mainly horses. You sensed a theme. 

“This section is for all the things people gave me when I came to the real world.” 

His voice was trembling a bit, like he missed them very dearly. Ignoring the ‘real world’ thing, you looked where he was gesturing to see a whole lot of unique and incredibly thoughtful gifts. A tiny disco ball, a small pink model car, a gag book called “Backflips for Dummies” where ‘dummies’ had been crossed out with marker and replaced with a handwritten ‘Ken’, a baby blue record player with matching pink headphones, a seashell, a tiny model campfire, a collection of various headbands, a pink first aid kit – it was just endless. He was clearly so very loved by these people. 

“And all of my furniture was made for me by carpenter Barbie!” 

The Barbie thing was ever-present in his descriptions of home. It didn’t bother you, really, but it was just… getting old. You knew it was just some bit, assuming he was calling his ex-girlfriends Barbies since his name was Ken. A classic joke, sure, but he had beaten it to death at this point. 

“Jeez, Ken, how many girls have you dated?” 

You were careful to come off playfully, never wanting to risk hurting his feelings. You got it, really. He was so sweet and charming, but it felt weird to hear about Carpenter Barbie and Lawyer Barbie – even Stereotypical Barbie. It wasn’t like him at all. His entire personality glowed with respect for everyone he's ever met, so why was he reducing his past loves to just their job title? 

“Oh… No, I haven’t ever… dated anyone before. Their names really were all Barbie, their careers were just how we’d all tell the difference when we were talking about them. I know things are different here. Even you – you’re not named Barbie.” 

You blinked at him. He knew you didn’t believe him, and it showed on his face, like he wanted so badly to just take your hand and introduce you to everyone. His genuineness was hard to pass over, but seriously? All of them were named Barbie? It didn’t make sense. And you supposed it didn’t have to. What did it matter – he lived here now, didn’t he?  

“It’s okay, Ken. Maybe I can meet them one day.” 

His ears pricked at that, stuffing that idea aside for later. It was Summertime, after all. Doesn’t everyone go on vacation for Summer? 

“Mmhm, I can take you!”

It was like he was trying not to fist-pump. He was always so animated. It was one of the very first things you noticed about him. “Anyways… I made dinner. I figured you’d be hungry after working so hard.” 

He stepped into his (tiny) dining area and for the first time, you got a good look at him. His house was kind of a lot – so much so that it had sort of overshadowed him, but as he stood there, the golden evening light from the window washing over him, you wondered how it had taken you so long to notice. 

He stood tall in the archway, wearing a gray pullover sweater, one you’d get at a university (but it had the Barbie logo embroidered on it). Light jeans were cuffed enough to show off his socks. He had swapped the usual white crew-style for patterned ones with little jellyfish all over them. His face was glowing in front of you and you felt yourself just wanting to leap towards him. He looked so cozy and soft and kind and handsome and – 

“I’m not sure what you like with it so I just kind of made everything…” 

You looked over his shoulder to see a rather extensive display of food. Still simple, though, nothing too extravagant, but it was clear he had put a lot of thought into everything. 

Most of his dishes were plastic (and heart-shaped) but you found that rather charming. He had made the same lunch your mom had made growing up, the one you had told him about just days before when he asked you what you’d be doing right now if you could be anywhere in the world. 

“Probably back home, but I’ve got rent to pay so I can’t travel for the Summer if it's longer than a day trip.” 

You remembered him looking so sad, like he was going to cry. The two of you were taking your lunch breaks together, as you did most days. You snacked while he drew horses with crayons on a napkin. He said he wasn’t hungry and that his head was hurting (probably because of the alcohol he’d ordered for the first time on your study date the night before). His cheek was squished, resting on his fist as he scribbled away, very focused. 

“What would you do at home?” 

“Have lunch with my mom at the kitchen table, soup and sandwiches. All the best things always happen at the kitchen table.” 

His face furrowed and scrunched as he put his whole heart into his drawing. His tongue even poked out a few times before he proudly showed it off to you. 

“My art teacher wants to put these in the gallery this weekend! She told me that my drawings perfectly capture the nostalgia of childhood, but I don’t know what those words mean.” 

You looked at him now, standing in front of you in his tiny little house, having prepared all of this just for you, remembering and holding on to everything you had passively told him. It was nearly maddening how kind he was – like you were just waiting for the other shoe to drop at any moment. There had to be a catch. There was no way this guy was real. 

He pulled a (baby blue) chair out, allowing you to sit first. You thanked him for putting all this work in, but he shrugged it off like it was nothing. It was like he was created just to serve the people around him. Even the girls at work that were mean to him – he’d pick up their shifts the second they didn’t feel like coming in and he spoke so highly of them, noting how they’d helped him to get the hang of his job. If only you could figure out this whole Barbie real-world thing, maybe you’d understand him a little better, but right now it all just seemed a little ridiculous – both the stories of his hometown and his chivalrous behavior. There was no way he was real. You’d pinch yourself to see if you’re dreaming, but that didn’t work the last twenty times, so really there’s no point. 

Seriously, though. What was his deal? You liked him so much – it just snuck up on you. You weren’t looking to be with anyone but you just couldn’t figure him out, and maybe you didn’t want to. Every guy you’d known had some bizarre at the least or toxic at the worst trait that came up eventually and you so desperately wanted him to be different. Now was as good a time as any to get it over with, rip the bandaid off, and be free of this false hope. 

“Hey, Ken…” 

“Hmm?” 

His mouth was full but he looked up at you immediately with a great intensity, like he was so concerned to make sure you were alright. His eyelashes fluttered as he blinked at you, waiting (literally) on the edge of his seat. The seats were too small for him. He kind of towered over most of the things in his house, actually. It was like this was a little dollhouse and he had barely begun to outgrow it. 

“What’s with all of the Barbie and Ken stuff?” 

He just looked at you, confused at your question. 

You sighed. 

“I mean, you always say Barbies and Kens instead of just saying women and men. And you always talk about how this… place, this world, is different from your own. I really like you and I’m really trying to understand it but I just don’t get it.” 

He blinked at you, brows furrowing as he nearly choked on his food and tried to gather some sort of answer that wouldn’t further confuse you. 

“You… you like me?” 

You realized what you had said just moments before. It came as a shock to the both of you. You did like him. You liked him so much it was starting to annoy you, actually. 

You nodded, frustrated, like you were searching for some sort of explanation that wouldn’t further confuse him. 

“I do, I like you a lot. I think about you all the time, you’re so silly I just love being around you, you’re ridiculously handsome it’s actually absurd, you’re so good at your job and so kind and you try so hard in school, I love your drawings, I love eating lunch with you, I just love… you. All of you” 

You watched as his lip quivered. He had been trying to hold it in all evening but he just couldn't anymore. 

“You like me?!” 

He bit down on the inside of his lip to stop the shaking. 

“I like you! And I’ve been wanting to tell you for so long but I’ve just never felt this way and… And I just feel like I never know what I’m doing. This place is so different than back home and I always want to take some initiative to show you how I feel but I’m just scared I’m going to bother you and that didn’t work back home and it’s so weird having my own house and–” 

He sighed, looking up at you. 

“This world – this place is so hard to live in.” 

You watched the look on his face. It’s the same face he makes when things get a little too overwhelming. You had seen it before, most recently after he walked right in to a sliding glass door, despreately trying to convince you that they just don’t have those where he’s from. Some things like that are just hard for him. 

You nodded, placing a hand on his. 

“This place is hard to live in. I’ve felt that way my whole life. Like I don’t really fit anywhere and everyone around me knows what they’re doing except me.” 

He nodded so desperately, like you were the first person to ever really understand him. 

“But… Ken, if this place is so hard to live in, why did you come here? And why did you stay?” 

“I came here to figure out why I did what I did.” 

There it was. He answered so quickly, like he had been waiting to tell you this since he met you. You knew it was coming sooner or later. There was no way he was as kind as he seemed, and he was about to tell you about some insane or horrible or creepy or despiciable thing he did to some poor girl before skipping town to ‘find himself’. You’d heard it all before. 

“I really liked this girl back home and she didn’t feel the same way. Not even like she didn’t like me, she just… it was like I was a bother to her, and I was. I waited for her to show up everywhere I’d go and I just wanted her to like me too, but not even romantically. Just like me, as a person, respect me, acknowledge me, validate me, reject me even. She didn’t even do that, she just…” 

He took a deep breath, steadying himself. Your jaw tightened, waiting to hear him say something he couldn’t ever take back. 

“Anyways… I didn’t mind that she didn’t like me, truly. I just hadn’t ever really thought about it before. Like we were meant to be together, but not in a good way – like it was planned and I couldn’t escape it. It was Barbie and Ken, there was no Just Ken.” 

Again, as bizarre as this whole Barbie and Ken thing was, his tone of voice was incredibly convincing. 

“But there is just Ken. I am Ken – and that’s it, that's good, but I didn’t know what that meant or who I was without spending my days just pining for her. After all that she came here to the real world and I wanted to as well. I didn’t come for her, I came for me. And I stayed for you.” 

He was crying now, tears slowly falling from his eyes, like he had been waiting for ages to find the words to explain all of this. 

“I mean… I came here to study. The first time I visited I learned about Patriarchy–” 

“The patriarchy.” 

“Right, the patriarchy, and I felt respected and seen, but I didn’t really get it. I tried to figure it out, I really did, but I couldn’t even do beach here and I kept getting arrested and I just... I just felt worse and worse so I…” 

His lower lip was really shaking now, like he had done something unforgivable. 

“I came home without Barbie and I let her get kidnapped by Mattel and I told all the Kens about what I saw and… and–” 

He was holding back actual sobs. 

“And I turned her dream house into a mojo dojo casa house for Kens only and I made Barbieland into Kendom Land Land of the Men and I made her listen to me play the guitar for, like, ever and ever and I just feel so bad about it all.” 

He took a shaky breath in, still clearly upset about everything. 

“But she was so nice to me about it when we finally talked. And then she came here, so I did too. I signed up for school so I could figure out why I did that and how to help other people realize what they’re feeling before they do something like that too. I know it was wrong and really mean, but I can also see that I was sad and I just liked her and I felt invisible and I didn’t even have a house.” 

He didn’t even have a house? 

“But now I do have a house! And I love learning about Beach and horses but what I really want is to do everything I can to help other people understand why this system doesn’t work, no matter who’s in charge. It didn’t work in Barbieland and it surely doesn’t work here either. It’s all ridiculous and it benefits no one, including those in power. It’s not fair, to guys or girls, to you, even. You can’t even go home during Summer because they barely pay you as much as they pay me just because you’re a girl, and I just started! You trained me! It’s absurd!” 

None of this was making any sense logically, but emotionally, all of it tracked. You felt the same way. You came here to understand the unhealthy behaviors in yourself and to try to help fix the system any way you could. 

“I love my house so much. I’m doing everything I can to figure out how I did something so crazy to all of the Barbies, but I won’t let it make me cynical or cold or mean anymore. I love being alive and even though people make fun of me for crying or blushing too much or asking stupid questions, I love being alive. I know it’s silly, but I love it, I love all of it. Every time you compliment me or help me with something or show me something new I just feel like I’m gonna explode. I don’t understand it, but I never even felt this way about Barbie – I don’t even know if I liked her, really, I think I was just programmed to act like it. I love seeing the older people that come in to work, they love each other so much and I just… I want that. That’s real and I want something real. I want more than a long-term long-distance low-commitment casual girlfriend bride-wife – I want what I see every day here. Like my friend Gloria and her groom-husband and everyone we see at work and at school. You know how people come into the diner every day – literally every day! – just to eat together? And hold hands? And look at each other for so long and just talk and laugh? I have no idea what that’s like, but I want to know so bad. I want to have that. And I want you to have that – even if it’s not with me! Even if you don’t feel the same way, you deserve a good groom-husband more than anyone I’ve ever met, it's absurd that no one is taking care of you!” 

He sighed, closing his eyes. 

“Sorry, what I’m, trying to say is, I just… I don’t understand it but all I want to do is spend time with you. I tried to ask some people at school what to do about... this feeling but their answers were so mean, like you were an object I was entitled to just take for myself. I tried to ask our coworkers but they told me you wouldn’t like me anyways and I believed them. I just… I don’t want to be... patriarchal about it and I have no idea what I’m doing.” 

A quiet fell over the place. You watched as little dust bunnies glittered around him. He had soup on his shirt. 

“Ken, I… I don’t know what to say.” 

You smiled, letting out a gentle laugh. He laughed too. You had been holding your breath at everything he was saying, a blush creeping over your ears. He was blushing too, mostly at himself for going off a little, but also at you. He could stare at you for hours. Most days he’s telling himself not to, straining his eyes away from you at work. His heart just ached when you spoke so kindly to customers or your coworkers or him. Gosh, when you spoke to him. He just melted every time, turning away from you as quickly as possible so you wouldn’t see him fall apart, just bashful. 

“I think you know exactly what you’re doing. And you’re damn good at it, too. If you’d asked me I’d say you’re the most experienced human I know.” 

Relief was painted on his face, a sense of calm falling over the two of you like a gentle, quiet snowfall. You really were the only one that understood him, but moreover, he was the only one that understood you. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing either, Ken. I don’t think anyone does. Everyone is just pretending, I promise. I watch the way those same couples spend their days just… existing together. It’s like they don’t have a care in the world when they’re next to each other and I feel that way when I’m with you. I also don’t know what I’m doing, but I can learn. We can learn. We can figure it out. And I don’t really understand the Barbies or Kens or Real World stuff you’re talking about most days, but that doesn’t mean you can’t show me.” 

He looked so simple, sat right in front of you, and you watched as he smiled – like all of a sudden he wasn’t so confused anymore. 

“Do you know how to roller-blade?” 

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀⋆˚✿˖°⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

[ninadove]

For any fandom(s): 12, 15, 16, 19, 23! 💌

As always, you spoil me! 💌

12. Compliment someone else in your fandom

GOD I HAVE TOO MANY FRIENDS TO COMPLIMENT

@beezonia comes up with the coolest AUs and designs. I’m always blown away by their Pokémon team compositions — they’re spot on to the point I consider it its own form of character analysis!

@purplecatghostposts is the genius who showed up out of the blue and took us all by surprise with their amazing prose. Soap, reminder that the reference to Copycat in consider the spare legally binds you to pay for my therapy.

@trishacollins is single-handedly remediating to the lack of platonic bedsharing between the cousins and I can’t thank her enough! She’s also one of the chillest and most approachable people I know.

@luckychatons is our favourite entrepunpurr and constantly lifts our mood with the cutest, most joy-filled sketches! Patting her OCs on the back because they sure need it.

@graythegreyt is such an awesome artist you’d almost forget they’re also one hell of a poet who wields mythological references like Odysseus wields his bow. Did you know they wrote me a poem inspired by God Games? I think everyone should know they wrote me a poem inspired by God Games.

@hartwign is a talented translator and draws hair like no one else. Seriously. I want to run my hands through the cousins’ hair and nestle in there forever.

@phieillydinyia is the picture of dedication! Can’t recommend Candle In The Wind enough, it’s a roleswap rewrite of the Miraculous movie that includes the songs. How cool is that. Thank you for your regular comments on my fics, they always make my day!

@alexandriaellisart words cannot express how much I love your depiction of Feligami. Your writing has made me tear up so many times! AND YOUR ART LOOKS SO SOFT AND COLOURFUL. What a double threat!

@faiirygrahamdevanily we need more fics about the Sentiplot as a metaphor for othering experiences and you’re doing God’s… I mean, Duusu’s work with yours!

@bbutterflies did you know your piece for Sentitwin Week is the best characterisation I’ve ever seen of Felix? This is what people mean when they say a picture is worth a thousand words. And of course your Adrino is always brilliant!

@bittersweetresilience not only are you an extraordinary writer, but you’re constantly looking for new ways to express your love. Always GIFing and weaving and canonising tags and making AMVs and running zines… I can’t wait to see what you do next!

And there’s so many more people I’m forgetting! To say nothing of my friends outside the Miraculous bubble! People are amazing!!! 💖

15. The character that always makes you smile

At the end of the day, it’s all about Clive. He’s been my muse for nearly 15 years! 💙🕊️

16 was answered here! 💖

19. Your current fandom(s)

Professor Layton, forever and always. I can’t wait to share my Big Bang fic and the amazing art that I was blessed with! 💙💛

RWBY, even if I’m lurking more than participating… I love love love love RWBY, yet it doesn’t strike my creative and analytical chords the way Miraculous does. Sometimes you just need to let yourself be swept into a story, you know? Although, it did teach me a couple of writing tricks I’ve used for other fandoms!

EPIC! Wisdom Saga coming soon! 🩵🦉 It makes my little mythology nerd heart supremely happy. The music is a banger and you can feel the knowledge and passion of all the people involved in this project. Jorge in particular is always so excited to share his progress, engaging with creators, explaining his musical choices in a fun and pedagogical way… And the lyrics! It’s free real estate for a fanfic author looking for inspiration and/or titles!

I’d love to start Monte-Cristoposting like I’ve been Cyranoposting and Draculaposting, but I’m afraid of spoilers so for now I’m just screaming in your DMs. As you know. I’m also slowly getting into Honkai: Star Rail, and I’d like to pick up Pokémon Black and White again because a N character study would look great on my AO3 resume.

And of course, Miraculous! 💚💜❤️ It’s the most creative I’ve been in years and it’s all thanks to these sad beautiful silly genius kids. Heart emoji, peacock emoji, sob emoji, etc.

23 was answered here!

Thanks for the ask! 🖤🪶

[igotanidea]

Batboys x albino!s/o headcanons

Requested : yes

This one was truly a challenge and got me thinking. But I like nonobvious requests, so if anyone else got anything specific in mind, ask away :)

DICK

He would notice it straight away, like he is tuned into spotting extraordinary looking people

Definitely staring at first, but not in the creepy or judgmental way, rather astonished

He would love you, I mean, consider the fact that he had dated a princess from Tamaran with purple hair and eyes glowing green,

I believe he would be the one to try to get the attention of such person by showing off a bit, trying to display all his best feature to match your outstanding ones.

“Hey, let’s be friends!”

He would show you off as well, sometimes making you blush or causing a bit of a drama when you feel a bit insecure about going out or being put on the spotlight

Once you get into a relationship with him, he would be the protector, always ready to assure you how amazing you are, and that people are only talking because they are jealous

Definitely doing self-care together, he would love to help you oil your hair and moisturize the skin (face mask first!)

And on sunny days he would never let you leave the house without putting a ton of sunscreen on, always having a sun umbrella to protect you from the rays and/or a bag otf other accessories (sunglasses, hats, etc.)

Casually running fingers through your hair or stroking your skin, just because he can

JASON

I think he would be the one to miss your pale skin and unusual hair color

at first

come on, this guy has  a white hair strand in the middle of the forehead and a tone of scars, I don’t think he focuses on the looks that much

But he has to notice eventually (probably by being called to order by Dick or Tim because of how insensitive he is)

Cause yes, he may seem a bit insensitive and rough on the outside never really addressing the matter of your albinism, but we all know he cares much more than it shows

You want to go out, but feel shy? – he will hype you and kill scare off anyone who may even look at you in a judgmental way.

You want to stay home and watch movies, but get insecure because of the way the lead female character looks? – screw the movie, he will kiss you until you forget about the whole world and just believe in yourself

I strongly believe he would be the one to understand why you feel down the best of all the batboys

He would stand with you in front of the mirror, pointing out all those little things you feel insecure about and then his own

“See, baby? We match.”

forehead kisses and cuddling on the couch (he won’t let you leave, just holding in that iron-clad embrace, not that you care).

TIM

Oh my god …

He’s like a walking encyclopedia and that is not necessarily a good thing

The most open about the matter, but the most awkward about it as well.

Once he started getting interested in you as more than a friend, he read like a whole library about albinism and approaching you without causing any psychological pain or hurt

And with that he pushed the point to the other side

“You don’t need to walk on the eggshells around me, Tim! You treat me like an alien or something like this! I am a person!”

And after a little fight he would confess that in fact he likes you and therefore all that embarrassing behavior

He would be the one to create a safe space for you both, like a bubble,

He’s been judged before and kind of learn how to not care and just be happy and content with himself and is more than willing to share his methods with you

Grabbing your hands the second he notices you getting insecure, arms rubbing and temple kisses

Making you meet all his friends, who will love you the first second they saw you

DAMIAN

Oh, he’s the one to stare at you with that impenetrable gaze which also seem judgmental, but it’s just curiosity

He’s been raised by a cult of assassin, there are so many things he knows shit about

Making you blush hard, which is way too visible on your pale skin

No one can really tell what he thought when you first met.

Not saying  a single word, just gawking

Pushing your limits to the point when you either cry or yell at him and it makes him even more interested (and maybe tiniest bit sorry)

Since then, he’s been the one to spite you just to see your reaction

Slowly getting addicted to that, to the point where any other girls just seem to ordinary and he misses having you with your astounding features around

“You are a jerk, Damian!” “Why? Because I find you the most interesting person on the planet?”

And once you get together ? he would probably go everywhere with his katana

And I mean everywhere, just to scare everyone who may say a single bad word about you

No one would dare

Even when you are in a relationship, he would still stare at you at times, when you don’t see that

He just can’t seem to keep his eyes of you, but is never going to straightforwardly admit how much you mean to him

[grapejuicestyless]

can you do a conrad fic based on sad, beautiful, tragic by t.s.?

Sad, Beautiful, Tragic.

Conrad Fisher x fem!reader

Summery: Y/n is young, naive but not stupid. Conrad had made one too many empty promises for even her to continue believing.

My feet stood cemented on the pavement, stuck to the grounds that lingered in deadly details of him, but never us. Not now, not ever.

I felt like an idiot, showing up now, so late. A random autumn night in Boston. The streets in the city still bustling with life, longing for the scents of pumpkin spice and apple cider. The further into the suburbs you drove, the quieter it grew. The trees became plentiful, black streets becoming canvases of orange and yellow.

We weren’t right. It was obvious. Laurel reprimanded me for this, my great attempts to salvage what little we had left between us. A dwindling flame, a broken glass spilling wine across a pearl white table cloth. She called me a fool, too blinded by what I wanted to work so badly in my head that I refused what was being presented right in front of me.

His snide remarks with his school friends, all much smarter than I. They knew it. I was never a prodigy, a prospect, gifted. Each dig was minor, easily brushed away like dust on the pages of a forgotten story page. But Conrad always had a way with his words, a tongue that made even the kindest comments come out like daggers. Backhanded and cruel, aimed at the naive.

Gullible was never written on the ceiling yet each time he smiled and pointed I looked. I was a scarlet thread, wrapped tightly around his thumb.

When the door opened, Susannah greeted me with a sad smile. Her eyes spoke a thousand sentences, pleading for me to leave, walk away while I still could. But Conrad had promised, promised that if I just gave him one more chance it would be different.

And I believed him. I believed him because when I met him, he was a good man. Shy, sweet, observant. He was charming, and god he was always handsome. The Conrad I fell for never lied to me. If we disagreed, it was quickly resolved.

Now it seemed like each phone call was just another nail in the coffin. Another reason flying by, red flags blowing in the wind begging me to follow, to leave. It was walking on eggshells, fragile. I was clumsy and they broke. I sit alone in my room sometimes, phone beeping to its death, hanging off my shoulder and I forget. I forget all the reasons I am fighting, what I am fighting for.

But then he comes back, just like he always does. A vicious cycle. He throws daggers at my deepest hurts, freshest wounds to have the pleasure to watch me crumble within his grasp. And when I’m too weak to stand, he lifts me back up. Suddenly, my stomach aches, I want to throw up. It’s bubbling up my throat, the guilt is eating at me until I am nothing. How could I ever even forget how wonderful this man is to me, how could I ever want to leave? I wipe my memory of all the nights I spend crying on the floor. We never speak of it, what we’re doing, but the guilty look in his eyes tells me he knows. We both do. I sleep on the floor for another week, I can’t move. I am paralyzed by my heavy heart, a locket around my neck. It’s golden, decorated in whimsical swirls. A picture of Conrad stays with me always, I clench in my fist. I want to rip it off, watch the chain scatter. It weighs me down, I can barely breathe.

I am a good girl, I don’t fight. I stay quiet while Conrad fights himself. I don’t buy into his attempts to work me up anymore. I know that with him, with us, we are destined to see storms. I know better now that once they pass, the sky will clear and the tragedy of it all will fade away. So I wait. I always wait for that moment of clarity. I refuse to think when I’m so worked up.

It’s sad, and it’s beautiful and oh so tragic, the way we dance around each other. How hours ago I was standing outside his door, regretting my naivety, trying to salvage us. Now I sit in his living room, waiting for him with my legs crossed. The melodic ticking of the clock alerts me of the time. I’m cold, my nose is rosy. I let the house capture me in its warm blanket. A sacred place of safety, I smell Susannah, I smell my mother. I see Belly’s old pictures on the wall in frames and Stevens gifts to Jeremiah and Conrad.

“Y/n/n, hey.” His voice is airy, lips pressed to my temple. I didn’t even hear him coming in the deafening ringing of silence in my ears. My eyes shift to his face, but I cannot move.

“Hi Con.” My voice is coarse, tired. It’s so late, my eyes hurt from being open so long. His arms wrap around me as the couch dips beside my thighs. He’s so warm, so gentle now, I find myself drifting away again. Getting lost in the calm, I forget about how devastating the storm was. I haven’t even picked up all my discarded pieces yet. Somehow, I manage to keep giving away more and more, even now. I am not sure how I can afford this.

Our conversation is warm, long. He talks about school and I talk about mine. With us being alone, I miss any snide comments or judgmental stares. He is so much kinder without the influence of others. He is almost the same man I grew up loving.

“You’ll still visit me, won’t you?” He pleads innocently. The look in his eyes is genuine, I almost crumble. A sharp intake of air is stuck in my throat, my brain becomes re-wired.

I remember the sad looks from Susannah, the fights with my mother. I remember how disappointed Belly was when I left again. How Steven yelled and fought until I was gone. Everyone in my life sees it in a bad light and I still managed to miss it.

Suddenly the golden chain around my neck feels heavy again. It hurts my skin, it’s burning the back of my neck. I hold it in my hand, it’s still heavy in my palm.

“Y/n?” His hand is on my thigh, I can’t breathe. My chest heaves, my throat is burning. There’s a lump stuck in my throat. It’s expanding and my eyes hurt. I’m tired, I’m sick, I’m sad.

Standing up, his hands drop from my lap. I close my eyes so I don’t have to look at him anymore. I can feel my lip quivering while I suck in a harsh breath. My eyebrows are furrowed, fists clenched.

“Y/n, hey, baby…” He cooed at me, palm pressing to my cheek. I am inconsolable, irrevocably damaged. Too lost in our beauty to remember the tragedy, the sadness that defines us. That is us.

“Conrad, I’m leaving.” It comes out sticky. Quiet other than my sniffles and his breathing.

“You just got here, did…have I done something?” I feel his hands slip down to my elbows. He holds me in place son the carpet. It hurts, not because he’s holding too tight, but because his touch burns.

“No, Conrad.” My eyes open, I search his blue ones. I get lost in our deep they are, collecting my thoughts. I feel trapped.

“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t. If I stay any longer I’m afraid I won’t ever leave.” His face is blank until it isn’t. It’s shifting, contorting into something that looks incredibly confused, pained.

“What, what are you saying?” His voice is less calm now, raising. Not quiet reaching the level of desperation I can see building inside of him already.

“It’s a cycle, Con, can’t you see it? We’re toxic and it’s sick because we are the ones letting it be this way. We fight but we never talk. You promise me you’ll get better but you never do! I’m tired of trying to be alright when I’m around you! You don’t make me feel good.” It’s off my chest, yet he hasn’t comprehended any of it.

“Y/n, please. We can work through it, right? I love you, I do. Please just, please. I love you, you have to love me. It doesn’t just go away like that, I love you.” He’s crying now. His blue eyes clouded in a dark overcast. He makes me feel guilty. All self respect I have is gone, and suddenly I’m back in his arms.

My head finds its place on his shoulder, I tuck my face into his neck. Not to be close, but because I feel to ashamed to show it after falling so quickly under his mind games.

Silently, I agree with him. Of course I still love him, I always will. So I stay, a fool who got so close, but remained so far away. He presses another kiss to the side of my head and tells me I won’t regret it. When I wake up alone in his bed, cold the next morning, I know I’ve been blinded to another empty promise. It’s so hard to stay when he’s mean, but it’s even harder when he’s sweet. So I pack my things quietly and leave. I won’t visit him at school. Not until he comes home will we see each other again.

Oddly enough, the thought doesn’t drain me. I don’t dread never seeing him for weeks on end. I don’t regret not choosing somewhere closer to get an education simply to be near him. I am relieved he will be gone. My heart keeps beating.

It’s barely a month before I’m stood back in front of him. Only now the carpet is cold cement and his living room is the train tracks. He is in Boston, he’ll never leave. He tries his hardest to get me to stay. He’s the nicest I’ve ever seen him. He’s persuasive, but in our time apart he doesn’t know I see it less as a genuine feeling from him and more as a twisted tactic of manipulation.

“We can settle down, we’re almost out of college. Just me and you and it’ll be great. If you’d only give us another chance.” He pleads, hands not yet on my skin, but he’s so close. I can feel his warm breath on my skin.

“I don’t want that anymore, Conrad.” I try to be kind about it, I try and blame my distance on myself. It is me who is trying so desperately to break things off. He’ll never know it was his cold heart that shattered our beautiful love. But it’s helpless, he won’t stop.

“Then we’ll travel the world. Y/n, I don’t care, I just want to be with you!” He tries again. Yet all his words are the exact same. He’s not even trying to understand me, I feel like screaming.

“No, no.” I reaffirm. I won’t look at him because it hurts me too much. I know if I look at him I’ll stay again. My chest is closing in on me, I can’t help but reach to hold onto it. My pinky grazes the same locket when I do. It’s dainty, but gorgeous. There’s stacks of photos within it. Mostly of Conrad, but a few of my family underneath.

“I’m not understanding, Y/n. I don’t get it?” He’s desperate, the train is coming. Once it pulls up to the platform, if he hasn’t convinced me one last time to stay, I’ll be forever gone. It’s the final fight, we can feel it.

“All we do is fight, Conrad. I can’t fight anymore. I tried to end it earlier and you promised me it would work out, it would stop but it hasn’t! And I can’t do it anymore.” My hands rest on the bends of his elbows. I hold him close, I look into his eyes finally, I want him to understand me, I beg for him to understand me.

“Then let me fix it. Let me make it better, Y/n. Anything, I’ll do anything I just can’t-don’t walk away.” My pleads are deaf on his ears. He doesn’t care about what I want, and it’s apparent now that he never did. He’s selfish, so he only takes. He wants me but he hates to have to deal with me.

“Conrad, stop!” He’s ranting, my voice is loud over his. A few people turn their heads. It’s so late in the evening, they’re only passing. Ready to go home.

My eyes shift around until everyone has gone back to their own business. The breath that leave my chest is heavy, harsh but quick.

“Please, Con. Please just try and listen to me.” My voice is breaking. Not because my leaving is breaking my heart, but because I am tired. I am tired of staying, of being so weak. I am wasting my youth on a boy who hasn’t matured yet. I deserve more, I crave it.

“There’s no amount of fixing either of us could do to mend whatever’s happened between us. We lost it a long time ago. And I’ll always love you, how could I not? You’re everything to me. But you’re not mine anymore, and I can’t be yours.” My hands slip from his skin to my chest. I try an even out my breathing, again I am reminded of my necklace. It feels wrong to still wear his picture around my neck when I’ve already let him go.

Unclasping it slowly, I let the gold gather in my palm. It’s warm from where it touched my skin. It’s rusting form how often it’s been worn, and my neck feels lighter. I ball up my fist, taking his hand over my other one steadily.

When he feels the warmth mixing with the coolness of the pendant, I can see him giving up. He nods, swallowing hard.

When the train comes, I wave goodbye to him one last time. He’s frozen, hand still holding the locket out and eyes still sad. I wonder how long he’ll stay there, I never see him move even as the train pulls away from the station.

………………………………………………………………………………….

The whirring of the train passing is accompanied by the occasional blowing of its horn. It’s deafening against the heavy silence that’s consumed me. There’s not even a crunch of a leaf to break it. Now that she’s gone, it’s settled in how I’m truly alone. I’ve blown it.

I wait for her to be out of sight. The caboose nothing more than a small speck in the horizon. The moon is high, the wind is chilling. It’s nearly winter in Boston, yet the weather is no where near as cold as my bones. I curl my fingers over her locket, bringing my knuckles to my lips, I breathe over it.

It doesn’t even smell like her. It’s a sad souvenir of pity. She didn’t want me, I’m certain she only gave it to me because she didn’t want a reminder of me either.

I stuff it into my pocket slowly, fingers feeling around the rough cotton of my pants. It sits snug at the bottom of it, right beside the long, handwritten note I prepared for her.

I knew I had my own demons, I know I was a mess. I treated her horribly, I gambled away our love. But this time I was serious. I wanted to fix it. I wanted to make it better.

My words meant little to nothing now. There were no amount of promises I could make when I was already too late.

[delulu-with-wandanat]

International Affair (Part 2) Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Last

Reader Description: Masculine style, They/He, AFAB, International Student, 20 Years Old. Sometimes will be describe using masculine terms (man, boy, handsome, etc)

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x InternationalStudent!Reader

Warnings: Specified age gap (Wanda is 34), NSFW content (??)

Summary: Y/n finally got a job as a Barista, however they were only offering part-time. Wanda wants to keep them around as much as she can in the name of "extra work." Who is Y/n to say no?

They had always wanted to work as a Barista, thankfully Harkness Coffee was willing to hire someone without prior experience. Their first day was spent mostly on training with a senior barista, Kate Bishop. He learned that Kate was also studying at NYU. However, Kate was 2 years above him.

Kate was very nice and welcoming, she has a rather bubbly personality to her. Once they finished their training, Y/n headed to Wanda's immediately. Knowing the promise of an extra job in exchange for money, he was taking all the offer he could get. He knows that he should probably take it one at a time, but ay you gotta do what you gotta do to make ends meet.

They rang the bell and waited, feeling slightly nervous. Wanda opened the door and greeted him with a smile. Shit that damn smile. "Y/n, I almost thought you wouldn't come."

They smiled back at her as she opened the door wider to let them in. "Thank you, Mrs. Maximoff." He observed the house, it was lovely. The living room was decorated with many pictures of her family. "You have a lovely home."

"Thank you, dear. Follow me." Wanda then leads them to her backyard and a pool came into view. Man, now would be a really nice time to swim, they thought.

"I merely need someone to clean up the pool, just light maintenance. I have a guy coming in once a week, but he's been sick lately. So I need you to clean up the leaves and debris, also brushing the walls. No need for chemicals." Y/n sighed in relief internally, he didn't know jackshit about pool chemicals.

"Consider it done, Ma'am!" He said while beaming at her, Wanda goes to rest on one of the pool bench to relax and read a book. Y/n got to work immediately.

This was a relatively easy job. Get a net, get those leaves, and then get paid. It was easy money. However, it is summer so the heat of the sun was starting to get to him after a while. They were wearing a jacket as well and felt rather sweaty. They decided to take off their jacket, revealing a white undershirt that was hugging their toned figure just right.

Wanda, who had been secretly observing them, almost choked at the sight. The way his shirt fit him perfectly had her mind going all over the place. She probably shouldn't be thinking about all the dirty things she wanted to do to them, but can you blame her?

20 year old heartthrob, amazing sense of style, respectful, hardworking, lowkey submissive, don't forget the impressive physique. Wanda couldn't help but want to use him for pleasure to get closer to them. Y/n checked all of the boxes of what she looked for in a sexual partner.

Yes, she was married. But in all honesty her husband, Vision, was very neglectful. All he cares about is his job, always on some business trip, and not to mention terrible in bed. He wasn't a bad guy by all means, but Wanda has needs to be met. What's wrong with having a little fun?

Feeling a pair of eyes on them, Y/n glanced at Wanda just in time to see her eyes roaming their figure while subtly biting her lips. Feeling a tinge of nervousness again he gave her a smile and a wave, "I'm almost done, Mrs. Maximoff."

"Take your time, darling. I don't want to rush you." This time they noticed the flirty undertone in her sentence, they decided to just focus on their job.

Once the pool was cleaned, Wanda approached them while carrying an envelope. "Well done, Y/n. Here is your payment."

He smiled sheepishly while rubbing his neck, he took the envelope. "Thank you, Mrs. Maximoff. But it's nothing really."

"I still need a couple of help around the house. Would you mind if I ever give you a call?" She tilted her head slightly with a subtle smirk.

"I-" They cleared their throat. "Yeah sure." He grabbed her phone and put down his number. Wanda was not-so-subtly staring at him up close. Studying their facial features. I bet their very good with their mouth, she thought.

When they look up, Wanda was in their personal space. They were entranced by her captivating green eyes. "Say, Y/n, do you have a girlfriend?"

"N-no I don't."

Wanda gave them her devilish smile once again, "Shame..." She made a move to grab her phone in his hand, brushing their hands slightly. "I wouldn't want this to go to waste."

Damn this woman, she knows what she's doing.

So for the next few days Y/n would go on to do numbers of odd jobs from Wanda. Of course his main work was still as a Barista, but they had to be honest, Wanda's pay was somewhat higher? He didn't understand why she would be so generous with her payments, but he wasn't complaining. He needed this money bad.

And Wanda would also get more and more bold with her flirt each day.

Lightly brushing their hands together when he worked on her garden. Making flirty remarks like; "I wonder what other things those fingers are good at." when she hired them to teach her 7 year old boys guitar. Or guiding his hand while he was chopping vegetables that one time she needed a 'cook assistant'

Unfortunately, Y/n doesn't seem to be responding back. It frustrates her slightly as all she wanted to do was have them absolutely fucking ravish her. Meanwhile, Y/n was just happy that he's making a lot of money. Turns out they were right. A jack of all trades is a master of none, but oftentimes better than a master of one.

And Y/n was good at a number of things.

That's how they ended with more and more side jobs from other neighbors. Which caused a slight jealousy on Wanda's end. There's no denying that Y/n is a young hotshot that catches many other women's attention. Which is why the next time Y/n comes over, Wanda would have her ways.

Things are getting spicy-

[ms--lobotomy]

Welcome to the community! Love your style - haven’t had a laugh as good as while reading the worm post in a while.

How about a slice of life piece with Perturabo? I always thought anyone who he considers as a s/o must have a pretty strong personality lol

howdy, anon! first of all, thank you so much! second, im going to take "slice of life" as a slice of life in our universe, not wh40k canon. this means that i can diverge even more from canon than normal! fun!

enough yapping, here's your fic bestie

---

summary: you decide to do something nice for perturabo and he doesn't know how to take it because he is so emotionally constipated

word count: 989

content warnings: perty's a rude lil shit but you can take it, right? also implication of diddlin'

---

Beams of light found their way through the tree in your front yard into the window at the front of your house and onto the fake-wood floor. It wasn't much as far as houses went, it was small and ratty and some of the lights didn't work. But it was a place to live, and you and your lover had to take what you could get.

Clad in a t-shirt that was many sizes too big for you, you buttered up the old pan that you had and broke three eggs into it. One for you, two for him. They began to bubble from the bottom after a while, and you smiled. You weren't normally the cook in this relationship; he preferred to do the things like cooking himself. But sometimes he would bury himself in his work and forget to eat or otherwise take care of himself. Today was one of those days. When you woke up, you saw him already hard at work on another painting.

As you were getting the bacon from the fridge, you heard the booming footsteps that could only belong to your lover. Perturabo. Your heart stopped in your chest for a split second--this was supposed to be a surprise! Soon enough, he stood in the doorway, almost too tall for it. There was paint on both his shirt and his shorts. He began to speak, his voice booming.

"I thought I was going to be making breakfast today," he said curtly.

"Tough luck," you replied, putting a few strips of bacon on the griddle. The crackle it made was quite satisfying to the ear. "You had your chance and you didn't do it."

He walked over to you, putting his free arm around your waist. His arms were quite large He leaned over you, surveying your handiwork. "You let them cook for too long," he pouted, nestling his head in the crook of your neck. He wrapped his arms around you as you began to separate egg white from egg white.

"I barely cooked these," you said. "Do you want salmonella?"

He chuckled, rocking you back and forth. You couldn't see it, but a slight smile dusted his lips. "Even if I could get it from this," he took a hand away from you quickly to gesture to the food, "it'd be worth it."

"If you're sure," you replied, breaking away from his warm embrace to put his allotted two eggs onto one of the plates that you had pulled out.

While you waited for the rest of it to finish, you grappled for his hand. There were a few paint stains on it, and you had no doubt you'd be getting paint on your hands as well. It's not like you were going anywhere today. He looked... stumped at this development. Almost as if he couldn't process what was going on.

"What, you can't handle some good ol' Christian hand-holding?" you asked, using the broken plastic spatula in your free hand to move the rest of your meal to your plates. "Even after last night?"

The color drained from his face. You got him. You smirked, giving that stupidly warm hand that enveloped yours a squeeze. "No, but really. I promise you that you're just as worthy of affection as..." you trailed off. The people around him? That wouldn't be very worthy in his eyes. Unless it was someone like...

"You're just as worthy of affection as I am." You looked up at him, and the smile on your face was genuine.

You didn't know how a man of his size could let out such a little "Oh...", but he did. He sheepishly let go of your hand and grabbed his plate, the meal looking pathetically small next to him. You could see the wheels turning in his head as he thought of what to say next. Something genuine? Something flippant? Something somehow both?!?

"I wanted to show you something," he finally blurted out. There was still this flustered look on his face as he sat at the table.

You finished your meal soon enough, and as you put your dish in the sink, you felt a hand at the bottom of your jaw. You felt your neck turn at an awkward angle to look up at your lover, and he had a smug grin on his face.

"Close your eyes, dear," he said.

Oh. He said dear. This was serious. As you closed your eyes, you could feel the hand move from your neck to your eyes, enveloping them in darkness. You didn't know why he told you to close your eyes in the first place, but you weren't going to press further. He put his free hand on your shoulder and led you through the small house. You didn't get very far before you got to your bedroom, a small thing with just enough room for an easel and some art supplies.

He removed his hand. The painting faced you, clear as day. It was a beautiful rendition of him holding a worm. If it weren't for the clear brush strokes, it would have looked like a photograph taken of him.

"It's beautiful," you started, "but I don't get it."

"Remember when you asked me if I would love you if you were a worm?" he asked with a chuckle. "This is me. With my beautiful worm partner."

"Oh!" you exclaimed. You remembered asking in the dead of night, while you were nothing but a lump in his arms. He'd dodged the question at the time, but he'd clearly been thinking about it. "So you would love me if I were a worm!" you laughed. "I knew it!"

You threw your arms around him. Despite the difference in size between you two, he recoiled a little bit. He wrapped his arms around you and rested his head on top of yours. And in this little house, you were content.

[bittersweetresilience]

renjing masterpost ⚔️🎀

writing

大鱼 / Jing Yuan lets go of these seven hundred years of dreams. 起风了 / Jing Yuan would like to stay for longer, he thinks, if reality were always like this. 浮生若梦 / Blade leaves the Luofu early. When he returns, Jing Yuan is no longer on it. this dream i walked through yesterday / A contrapuntal about love and grief.

age has never made me wise / Jing Yuan is turned back into his child self. Blade fucks up, but he fixes it. mad wandering man / Jing Yuan is sent to help Blade with his mara before the fight with Phantylia. and i get the feeling that i'm living / Jing Yuan is sick. Blade takes him on a road trip. windswept wanderlust / Drabble collection. Mostly Renjing.

On the Road / A nontraditional road trip. A translation of Sweetie_tianyang's 在路上.

i'll get it right this time / Yingxing is an idiot, but he will romance Jing Yuan if it kills him. how i met your jiangjun / Blade forgets he’s the one who’s married to Jing Yuan. no extra toppings / Seven years after leaving Jing Yuan, Yingxing finds him and asks him out to bubble tea. mine, mine, mine / Everyone competes for Jing Yuan’s affections.

dog leash dog / After the ritual is over, Blade stays on the Luofu. all the things they might have said to you / Jing Yuan meets Qingzu's previous incarnation.

bite-size / Jing Yuan is turned little by a curio. Blade plays with him. tell me we'll never get used to it / Jing Yuan doesn’t have nightmares often, but when he does, he doesn’t talk about them. fake empire / Kafka and Blade interrogate Jing Yuan. hangman's gambit / Jing Yuan wants Blade’s hands around his neck again.

the way it makes you / Jing Yuan hadn’t picked up the phone this morning. caught his tears in a cup / Jing Yuan has chosen to forget many things. moonlight spilled down the hall / The house is empty when Jing Yuan returns to it, because of course it is. now and forever / Jing Yuan is marastruck, but it isn’t such a bad thing. so lightly, so lightly / Tentatively, he traces his fingers over that fair skin, and Blade lets him. my wings and my eyes / Jing Yuan is tired, but he has been tired for a long time now. like real people do / Jing Yuan has trouble eating sometimes.

white night / Blade and Jing Yuan are members of the Ten Stonehearts. This works out for them, somehow. verizon™ of existence / A series of conversations found on IPC Blade’s phone over the years.

analysis

shipping chart / why i ship renjing / the renjing square

top blade and bottom jing yuan agenda / renjing hornyposting renjing pregnancy agenda 24/7 dom/sub renjing agenda renjing and religious themes

modern domestic renjing headcanons / jing yuan and the stellaron hunters who falls first, who falls harder renjing attachment styles / stonewalling winter renjing headcanons resting heart rates

top five renjing symbolism top five renjing sex positions top five things renjing like and dislike about each other top five favorite desserts

xianzhou luofu navigation map

webweaves

vita infinita / It turns out that sometimes the future actually belongs to someone else. mt. washington / We could wash the dirt off our hands now.

amvs

sunflower / I think your love would be too much.

other

renjing playlist renjing leitmotif mix

renjing textposts / go for it, yingxing

renjing relay