#but i figured i wouldn’t have enough time to do it so i made a small gif with emma and sarah :3
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little-jana · 3 days ago
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“Perfectly Thought Out”
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Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!reader
Genre: fluff
Warnings: none
Words: 1.15k
Summary: Finding the perfect gift for Spencer was not easy, but you did it.
It had taken you weeks to figure out the perfect gift for Spencer Reid. Weeks of mental back and forth, second-guessing, and doubt. Because really, what do you give someone like Spencer? A man with an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and an endless well of knowledge? Someone who could rattle off obscure facts about obscure things before you’d even finished your coffee?
You’d been desperate to give him something thoughtful, something that wouldn’t just end up collecting dust on a shelf in his apartment. And you think you’d finally nailed it. Or at least, you hoped you had.
Now, standing in the BAU’s break room with a carefully wrapped box tucked under your arm, you felt your nerves kick in. This was the first chance you’d gotten to give him his present, and the anticipation was eating you alive.
“Hey,” his voice broke through your thoughts, soft but warm.
You turned to see him standing in the doorway, a slight smile tugging at his lips. His messenger bag was slung over one shoulder, and his scarf hung loosely around his neck, a hint of the autumn chill still clinging to him from outside.
“Hey,” you said, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze. “I, uh, have something for you.”
“For me?” His eyebrows lifted in surprise, his curiosity immediately piqued.
You nodded, holding out the box with both hands. “It’s… kind of a late birthday gift. I thought you might like it.”
Spencer set his bag down on the counter and took the box from you with the kind of care you’d use to handle something fragile. His long fingers brushed against yours briefly, and you tried not to think too much about the way it made your heart flutter.
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” he said softly, his gaze flickering up to meet yours.
“I wanted to,” you replied, your voice quieter than you intended. “Just… open it.”
He hesitated for a moment, then carefully peeled back the wrapping paper, his movements methodical and deliberate. When he lifted the lid of the box, his breath hitched.
Inside was a leather-bound journal, hand-stitched and worn just enough to give it character. But it wasn’t just the journal itself that made it special. On the first page, you’d written a small note explaining that you’d already filled some of the pages with questions and prompts—things you thought he’d enjoy pondering or writing about. Things that would challenge him or make him smile.
And tucked into the back pocket of the journal was a collection of vintage fountain pens you’d spent weeks hunting down online, knowing how much he loved handwriting notes and letters.
He stared at the journal in stunned silence, his fingers gently tracing the cover. When he finally looked up at you, his eyes were wide and glistening.
“This is…” he trailed off, clearly struggling to find the words. “This is incredible.”
“Do you like it?” you asked nervously, biting your bottom lip.
“Like it?” he repeated, his voice filled with disbelief. “I love it. This is… I don’t even know what to say.”
You laughed softly, relief flooding through you. “You don’t have to say anything. I just… I wanted you to have something that felt like you. Something thoughtful.”
He opened the journal to the first page, his eyes scanning over the note you’d written. You watched as a small, almost shy smile spread across his face, and your chest tightened at how beautiful he looked in that moment.
“This is one of the most thoughtful gifts anyone has ever given me,” he said, his voice quiet but full of emotion.
You felt your cheeks flush under his gaze. “I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate you. You’re always so thoughtful with everyone else, Spencer. I figured it was time someone returned the favor.”
He set the journal down on the counter and stepped closer to you, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Really. This means so much to me.”
“You’re welcome,” you replied, your voice just as soft.
For a moment, neither of you moved. The air between you felt charged, heavy with something unspoken. And then, just when you thought you might drown in the tension, he reached out and pulled you into a hug.
It wasn’t just any hug, though. It was the kind of hug that made you feel safe, like you were exactly where you were supposed to be. His arms wrapped around you tightly, and you could feel the steady beat of his heart against your chest.
“Thank you,” he murmured again, his voice muffled against your hair.
You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to savor the moment. “You’re welcome, Spencer.”
When he finally pulled back, there was a softness in his expression that you’d never seen before. It made your heart ache in the best way.
“Would you…” he hesitated, looking almost nervous. “Would you want to come over tonight? I’d love to show you how I use the journal. Maybe we could talk about some of the prompts together.”
You blinked, caught off guard by the invitation. But the hopeful look in his eyes made it impossible to say no.
“I’d like that,” you said, smiling softly.
The grin that spread across his face was worth every second of doubt you’d had while planning his gift. And as you left the break room, your heart felt a little lighter, knowing that you’d made Spencer Reid feel as special as he deserved to feel.
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cosmiclily · 18 hours ago
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chapter two: begin again
wc: 1.1k
As the van pulled away from the hotel, the excitement in the air was palpable, though tension lingered beneath the surface. Everyone seemed focused—Ekko scrolling through the setlist on his phone, Jinx half-humming a melody she was tinkering with, and Archie furiously typing on his tablet, probably juggling logistics for the added tour dates.
Vi, however, sat quietly in the back, her sunglasses still on as she leaned her head against the window. The rhythmic hum of the van seemed to lull her into a daze, but you weren’t sure if she was lost in thought or just trying to block everything out. It had been weeks since she’d been the person you once knew.
After a few minutes, you slid into the seat beside her. “You good?” you asked, keeping your voice low so the others wouldn’t hear. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but you wanted to know where her head was at.
She didn’t respond right away, her gaze fixed on the blur of trees and buildings outside. Finally, she sighed. “I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice sounding small. “I feel like… I’m not ready for this. For any of it.”
You frowned, the concern thick in your chest. “You don’t have to be ready for everything all at once. Just show up, Vi. That’s all anyone’s asking.”
She turned to you then, pulling her sunglasses down slightly to reveal her tired, red-rimmed eyes. She looked vulnerable, like a piece of her was still trying to catch up to the life you were all living. “What if I show up and it’s not enough? What if I mess it up for everyone?”
You leaned forward, locking eyes with her. “You won’t,” you said firmly, trying to keep the doubt from creeping into your own words. “You’ve got us, Vi. We’ll figure it out together. You’re not doing this alone. We’re a band—we’ve always been a band. And no matter what happens, we’ll make it.”
She studied you for a moment, her expression softening just a bit. You could see the struggle behind her tired eyes, the weight of her past months still clinging to her. “Thanks,” she murmured, slipping her sunglasses back into place and leaning her head back against the seat. “I’ll try.”
The rest of the ride passed mostly in silence, save for the occasional rustle of papers from Archie or Jinx’s off-key humming. You caught glimpses of her, her fingers absently tapping the window, lost in the rhythm of the van as it bumped along the road. You hoped, for both of your sakes, that she really would try. And that, someday soon, she’d find her way back to the person she used to be.
As you neared the next venue, you found yourself gripping the edge of your seat, a nervous energy building in your chest. These next shows could change everything—but only if you could keep things from falling apart.
You glanced back at Vi one last time. For all her flaws and struggles, she was still the backbone of the band. If she could just find her footing, you knew she’d be unstoppable.
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The next concerts went surprisingly smoothly. Despite the sharp lecture Archie had given Vi after her rough morning, it seemed like something had finally clicked for her. It was as if she’d “woken up” to what was truly at stake. She started drinking less, showing up on time, and, for once, staying present. The days of her vanishing without a word or stumbling in late were seemingly behind her. Things were starting to look up—not just for Vi, but for the entire band.
Everyone could feel the shift. There was a new sense of focus and determination in the air, the kind that only comes when you realize just how close you are to something big. The upcoming shows weren’t just concerts—they were stepping stones toward something greater. And while every performance mattered, there was a special buzz surrounding the final concert in LA.
Not only would it be the biggest show of the tour, but it also carried an unspoken weight. LA wasn’t just another city; it was the heart of the industry, the place where dreams were either made or shattered. This performance had the potential to solidify the band’s reputation, and everyone knew it.
As the tour rolled on, Vi’s transformation became more noticeable. During rehearsals, her drumming was sharper, her beats more precise, and her timing impeccable. She poured all her energy into her kit, the raw emotion of her breakup with Caitlyn channeling into every strike of the snare and crash of the cymbals. There was a fire in her playing that hadn’t been there in weeks, and it was impossible not to feel it.
The rest of the band fed off that energy. Jinx’s solos were more daring, Ekko’s rhythms tighter than ever, and even you felt a renewed sense of purpose every time you stepped on stage. The crowds noticed too. Each night, the cheers grew louder, the applause lasting longer. You could see new fans sharing videos of the shows online, tagging the band in posts, and even singing along to songs that had only been released a few months ago.
By the time you reached LA, the anticipation was electric. The venue was massive, a far cry from the dingy bars and tiny clubs where you’d started. As the crew unloaded the equipment and set up for the night, Archie pulled the band aside for a pep talk.
“This is it,” he said, his voice brimming with pride and a touch of nervousness. “You’ve worked your asses off to get here, and now’s your chance to prove you deserve to stay here. The label reps will be in the crowd, along with some big names in the industry. But don’t let that get to you. Just do what you do best, and you’ll knock them dead.”
For a moment, the weight of the situation felt heavy, but then you looked around at your bandmates. Jinx was grinning ear to ear, her hands twitching with excitement. Ekko was nodding confidently, a quiet determination in his eyes. And Vi—Vi was sitting behind her drum kit, gripping her sticks tightly, her gaze steady and clear.
As the lights dimmed and the crowd roared, you stepped onto the stage with your heart pounding in your chest. The band took their places, and for a brief second, there was silence—a moment of calm before the storm.
LA wasn’t the end. It was just the beginning.
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masterlist - chapter three
notes: short chspter, just for transition, the next one things are gonna be interesting 😋😋😋
tags: @saturnhas82moons @baylegend6
(if you wanna be added to the taglist, lmk)
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darkredsugarcookie · 2 days ago
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"The Pressure of His Lips" - ex!Bucky Barnes x Reader
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Hi! Like three (3) people have asked me to start posting fics on here, so here we go. I'm new to posting on tumblr, but I'm a wattpad and ao3 veteran, so be nice. I'm still trying to figure out the formatting and everything for this place :P
Summary: After breaking up due to your secret relationship being brought to the surface, you are not handling the separation well. Too much vodka and lonely nights end with you accidentally Bucky from the bathroom floor.
Warnings: Alcohol use, heavy intoxication, mentions of smoking weed, slight hint at SA history upon the reader, angst, alpine mention!!!! let me know if I missed any!
DISCLAIMER: This is an excerpt from a bigger fic I've been writing in which the self-insert has a history of SA. It is hinted at for one sentence in this specific blurb.
By all means, I should’ve been the one that managed to keep my head above water. Dad hit rock bottom when he was my age— after my grandparents died. He was no stranger to tell me about it. It was always an example of what not to do. Even Mom had her struggles after she lost her brother. 
I had every picture perfect reason to stay away from anything that could drag me down like a weight in still water. Which is why I couldn’t tell you how I ended up at the bottom of a bottle on a Monday night in uptown Manhattan. 
For a long time, I refused to drink more than once in heavy social settings after what happened when I was seventeen. But this? I didn’t care anymore. I needed whatever would keep him and my parents and the team out of my head. 
The problem I was running into, however, was that by the time I was cross-faded in a mass of bodies in a bar uptown, he was the only thing I had the ability to think about. 
Everything I wouldn’t confront during the day when I was sober chased me down until I was curled up in the corner of a bathroom stall. 
The smell of weed clouded my senses as the cold tile floor hit the backs of my thighs. The vodka still on my tongue made me dizzy and I could feel my heart beating like a drum in my head.
Every memory axed its way into my head like a migraine I couldn’t shake. I could spend every night like this, I could dance with strangers I didn’t care about, I could swear off men to my best friend and demand that I was completely fine, but I would always end up like this. Thinking about how I could still feel the pressure of his lips on my skin and if I tried hard enough, the temperature of the bathroom tiles almost felt like that of his arm under my fingers whenever we were curled up together. 
I couldn’t keep a straight thought. It all flashed through my head in images I couldn’t shake. 
My phone was vibrating. 
I fumbled for it, where it was tucked into the front of my dress, and I didn’t even check who was calling when I  tapped the screen and held it to my ear. I sniffled, wiping my nose. My cheeks were wet. 
I was crying. That seemed to be pretty normal for me these days. 
“Hello?” 
I blinked. Great, now I was hallucinating voices. I’d never reached that point of being wasted. “Nat,” I said, rubbing my eyes. I probably just ruined my makeup already. “What’s up?” I did my best to sound sober. Probably didn’t work.
There was a heavy sigh. “You didn’t mean to call me,” he said. 
“You called me,” I replied. 
“No, I did not. Are you… Are you okay?” 
“I am fine,” I said. “I’m not… supposed to talk to you.” “I know, angel.” Another sigh, a shuffle of something. Maybe blankets. It couldn’t have been that late. 
“Are you sleeping?”
“It’s almost four in the morning.”
My head was pounding, swimming… I couldn’t quite breathe right. “You don’t really sleep…”
“No, I don’t. Less now. Where are you?” 
“Why?” I felt defensive all of a sudden. No matter the fact I didn’t think I could get up off this floor if the building was on fire. 
“Because you’re drunk, sweetheart. And you’re alone. It’s not safe.”
“You don’t know that I’m- if I’m alone.”
A brief pause. “Yes, I do. Do you know where you are?” 
I was picking at a loose thread on the hem of my dress. “I’m…” I squeezed my eyes shut. That string wrapped around my finger twice. “I’m in the bathroom.”
“Okay, hold on—” I heard a door shut. It was quiet for a second. “I know where you are. You stay in the bathroom, okay? I’ll come get you.”
“But you—”
“No, you stay where you are.” I shrank a little. “Hear me?” 
“Yeah…” “Good. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
I think I fell asleep after that, because the next thing I remember was hearing a commotion of voices— only one of which I recognized. 
Then it got so bright as the stall door was pushed open and I swear it felt like my heart that had dropped dead almost a month ago was beating again. 
Bucky’s face was a mix of emotions as he touched my cheek. “Sweetheart…” He said, letting out a breath. 
“Why are you here?” I asked, blinking a few times to try and see clearly. If he was here, I wanted to feel it, see it. All of it. 
“I’m here for you, doll.”
“But you hate me.”
He looked at me like I was crazy. “No, I don’t, baby. I don’t hate you. But we need to get you home, come on.”
Without waiting for me to say anything, he lifted me to my feet. “Where are your shoes?” he asked. I just shrugged. 
As I limped my way to the bathroom exit, one of the other girls stopped him, demanding that he either explain how he knew me, or set me down. If I was sober, I might have hugged her for that. “He’s…” I started. 
She cast a worried glance from me, to the man holding me up. Bucky sighed and pulled out his phone, showing her the screen. “She’s mine, promise.” I barely caught a glimpse of the wallpaper. It was a picture Avery had taken of us when we were in Atlanta, we were in the kitchen, not even aware she was watching. 
Once we were past the crowds, he shoved the door open and helped me outside. The chilly air shocked me a little back into my senses, but not much. 
He pulled the car door open and helped me into the passenger seat before rounding the hood and climbing in. “I feel like lecturing you on how dangerous this is might be pointless because I don’t think you’re gonna remember any of it.”
I sniffled, wiping my cheeks. “I thought I was… fine.” “I’m sure you did,” he said, pulling onto the street. “Avery would have a heart attack if she knew about this, you know?” 
“Yeah… It’s okay.”
“It’s not,” he sighed, shoving a hand through his hair. “This isn’t like you.”
“Sure it is,” I replied as I looked out the window. “It’s in my genes.” Bucky glanced at me, but didn’t say anything. When we pulled up outside my apartment building, I paused. “How do you—”
“I had a feeling something like this would happen. I got it from Nat.” 
“She gave it to you?” 
“I had to ask. Beg, actually.”
“That isn’t like you,” I said, quoting his own words. He cast me that same look he always gave me when I said something annoying, but valid. I smiled a little, tipping my head against the headrest of the car as I watched him climb out. 
When he got to my side and pulled the door open, he didn’t give me an option. Next thing I knew, he was scooping me into his arms and I didn’t have it in me to fight. I leaned closer, letting my body relax for the first time in weeks. I could scold myself for this in the morning. 
“What’s the door code?” he asked me. 
“My birthday,” I replied in more of a mumble than anything. “It’s—”
“I know your birthday, angel.” 
I sighed and nodded as we stepped into the warmth of the lobby. I didn’t question him as he held me the whole way to my apartment, his fingers occasionally brushing against my body as if it was muscle memory. 
He pressed the same code into my door keypad and shoved the door open. 
“Don’t let the cat out,” I muttered. 
“The what— Oh my god.” I heard my little white kitten meow up at him. “That’s Snowball,” I said. “Or Alpine. I can’t choose.”
He sighed, a small smile on his face. “I like Alpine.”
Bucky carried me to the master bedroom and set me on the bed. I rubbed my eyes, the ache behind them starting to grow. He disappeared for a second and when he came back, he put a glass of water in my hand. “Drink this,” he said, setting my shoes in my closet. I wondered briefly where he found them before he returned from the closet with the Avengers Compound sweatshirt that used to be his, but I had reclaimed. “You can’t sleep in that dress,” he said. “Or that makeup.” 
“I’ll be fine—” I started. 
“No. You’re gonna change. I’ll give you a—”
“I can’t get the zipper myself,” I said quietly. “It’s not- It’s not a ploy… Promise.” 
He helped me to my feet and turned me around before tugging at the zipper. I felt the air hit my back a second before his hand landed at my waist. “Are you gonna remember anything from tonight?” 
“I hope so,” I said softly. Other words for definitely not. 
Bucky sighed and dropped his head to my shoulder. “I miss you,” he breathed, lips brushing against my skin. “More than I’ve ever missed anyone.” 
A pain lodged itself in my chest. It was so deep that in this moment I genuinely didn’t think it’d ever leave me. And if it did, it might just leave a hole where it sat. “Bucky…” 
“Get changed. I’ll be right back.”
When I felt his body heat disappear from me, I dropped my dress to the ground and tugged on the sweatshirt he’d set on the bed. I didn’t bother with shorts, just left my underwear on. 
I dropped onto the edge of the bed, finished my water, held my hands in my lap. 
Bucky came from the bathroom and clicked on the lamp beside my bed. He took my face in his hand and with the warm rag in his hand, wiped it gently along my face. “Close your eyes,” he said softly. 
I did as I was told. It wasn’t as in depth as I could’ve myself, but it was enough to keep my eyes from hurting in the morning.
He tossed the rag in the hamper and guided me into bed. “You need to sleep,” he said softly. 
“I’m not used to sleeping alone,” I mumbled against my pillow. 
“I know, sweetheart,” he replied, fingers combing through my hair. “Me either. But you’re gonna be okay.” 
I felt exhaustion coming for me like a thief in the night. “You think so?” 
“I know so. Sleep, baby.” 
A breath escaped me. I didn’t have the energy to speak anymore.
As sleep pulled me away, I felt his kiss against my head. Then the light clicked off and it was gone like a dream. 
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loverangels · 2 days ago
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taste
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pairings: percy jackson x fem!reader
synopsis: percy really likes the taste of strawberries directly from your lips
strawberry divider by @bernardsbendystraws
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The orchard was warm and lively, rows of fruit trees stretching endlessly under the summer sun. You stood on your tiptoes, reaching for the ripest strawberry you could find, your fingers brushing the leaves. Percy, of course, wasn’t far behind—holding the basket in one hand and stuffing berries into his mouth with the other.
“Percy,” you scolded, glancing back at him. “You’re supposed to collect the fruit, not eat it all before we even sit down.”
He gave you an innocent shrug, his sea-green eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m just… quality-checking. What if they’re bad? Wouldn’t want my girlfriend to eat a bad strawberry, now would I?”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your grin as he followed you to the next row, stealing another berry on the way. Eventually, with the basket half-filled (thanks to you) and Percy’s hands stained red from sneaking more than his fair share, you found a shaded spot under a tree to sit and enjoy the fruits of your labor.
Plopping down on the blanket, you picked a glossy red strawberry from the basket and held it up to the sunlight, admiring its perfect shape before taking a slow, deliberate bite. Juice ran down your thumb, and you made a show of licking it off, casting Percy a sly look out of the corner of your eye.
He froze mid-grab for another berry, his eyebrows shooting up as a lopsided grin spread across his face. “Are you doing that on purpose?” he asked, tilting his head at you.
“Doing what?” you replied innocently, biting into the rest of the strawberry with a soft hum of approval.
His grin widened. “Oh, I see how it is.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a teasing murmur. “You’re trying to drive me insane, aren’t you?”
You shrugged, picking up a grape this time, holding it between your teeth before slowly nibbling it in half. Percy groaned, tossing his head back dramatically. “You’re evil.”
“Maybe,” you said, picking another strawberry. You held it out to him this time, the bright red fruit perched between your fingers. “Want a taste?”
Percy’s eyes flicked to the strawberry, then back to you. His grin turned downright wicked as he leaned in, but instead of taking the fruit, his lips brushed yours instead—soft at first, then deeper, tasting the sweetness of the strawberry still lingering on your lips.
“Percy!” you gasped, pulling back in surprise, though the way his sea-green eyes sparkled made it hard to sound mad.
“What?” he asked, feigning innocence as he leaned closer again, his hand brushing yours to pluck the strawberry from your grasp. “I did want a taste. Just figured I’d get the best of both worlds.”
Heat rose to your cheeks as he popped the fruit into his mouth, still grinning as if he hadn’t just completely stolen your breath.
“Unbelievable,” you muttered, reaching for another piece of fruit, but Percy was already leaning in again, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth as his hand rested casually on your knee.
“Sharing is caring, babe,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Don’t hog all the sweetness.”
You tried to glare at him, but the way he was looking at you—with that perfect mix of mischief and adoration—made it impossible to stay mad. So instead, you grabbed another strawberry, took a bite, and smirked.
“Fine,” you said, leaning in just close enough to let your breath tickle his lips. “But if you want more, you’re going to have to work for it.”
Percy’s grin grew impossibly wider as he closed the gap between you again, clearly up for the challenge.
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quibbs126 · 1 day ago
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So I was attempting to practice the Cyberverse style Optimus and Megatron, though as you can see, I got a bit distracted at the bottom left, and sort of just had to put something else to fill up space
I actually started practicing yesterday at work, drawing on my cardboard sheets, so it meant I was a bit more practiced when I started here. Though annoyingly, since I elected to not go over my pencil sketches with pen, I could barely make out details in the drawings, and I could barely tell what I was doing on Megatron
It was also going to be more than just their heads, but not only was Optimus’ body taking up most of the canvas already, I wasn’t really sure how to draw it at the time. The stuff at the bottom right may have been for filling up space, but I also did need to try and at least practice their bodies
*sigh* the real struggle is making them 3D things. It’d be so much easier to figure out the shapes if I didn’t have to. But oh well, comes with the territory I suppose
But back to it, I think I did alright with the head sketches? They aren’t bad, but they feel slightly off, like I haven’t quite got them looking right
I probably need more practice, and to actually draw them full body. Also probably wouldn’t hurt to look at more Cyberverse fanart for more exposure to the style
I probably also need to start actually drawing characters more consistently, instead of drawing sketches of characters once and then never doing it again. It means I never fully get the hang of it and I keep not really making much of substance
But yeah, I feel like drawing them again at a later date, possibly even with lineless. I just don’t know what to draw them doing
But anyways, on to the bottom left
So I had finished the sketches, and my brain was like “well since we’re here, and we have helm designs right there, we could try making up fankid designs?” and eventually I gave in and decided to start sketching. I knew it’d end up on the final product anyways, but I had to give in to my impulses
Sorry, I’m sure people are sick of me bringing up this sort of stuff
Then with my first attempt, I ended up with something I actually quite liked. So I was like, might as well fully line and color
I still like the original sketch, so I’m gonna put it here, and also since I feel like the vibes are slightly different from the final
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But then a problem arose after lining and going to colors. Namely that I had designed this on a whim and I had no deep thought as to what colors to use
After some tries I ended up with what you see here, but I’m not sure if I want to keep these colors. I’m not sure it fits the vibe the original sketch had
The blue middle piece I’m especially not sure on. I think it looks off, but I don’t know what to color it
Oh also, his purple isn’t exclusive to his helm, it’s his main color for the rest of his body too. At least that’s how it is in my head right now
Also as you may notice between the sketch and final, the eye shadow came later, mostly because I thought he didn’t have enough Megatron in his face. But also because of that, I hadn’t made the eyes and eyebrows with that in mind. So if I draw him again, those’ll get tweaked
I still in general don’t know if he looks enough like Megatron. I suppose I should be wondering more if he should look more like Optimus, since general shape wise he takes far more from Megs, but I’m also aware plenty of his colors stray more towards Optimus anyways
Oh yeah also, he has blue eyes here, but I really don’t know about that. I wanted to give him something other than blue or red, purple being my initial choice, but I was struggling with the colors in general and so right now he has blue. It works but I wonder if it looks too much like a fusion of their eyes
He needs more work, just like Overdrive I think. But he is here
No clue his name. I wasn’t even sure about his gender until drawing made me think “oh yeah that’s a guy”. I do have a name in my brain for a megop kid, that being Starcutter (which the two probably didn’t pick), but I don’t know if that works for him
I do think I’m going with that idea I posed yesterday (well not yesterday, but yesterday I said “what if I put it in Cyberverse?”) of him being the secret megop love child that no one but Megs knows about
I don’t know anything about him other than he’s probably on the Autobot half of Cybertron but was never really involved in the war much. To involve him in any plot, he probably comes over to Iacon after the war to try and make some name for himself
Also another idea is that he and Megatron met again during his multiverse adventures, in some universe where he was actually raised by Megatron, possibly where the Autobots and Decepticons never split because Optimus was able to properly reason with Megatron. They didn’t take him on their multiverse adventures, probably because Megatron knows he exists in his own universe and doesn’t know how to handle two versions, but also possibly because he died, I don’t know. But it was these encounters that led to Megatron attempting to search him out when he returned to his own universe. This also means Dead End and maybe Astrotrain knows about the kid’s existence, but they’re under the assumption they only exist in these wildly different universes, not their own. Which may lead to shenanigans
But yeah I haven’t solidified anything else really I don’t think. Should work on a name
And I think that’s about it for now? Yeah I should draw more Cyberverse I guess
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sidecharactersdomatter · 2 days ago
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@hikaaa-bi
Ezran also wasn’t my favorite character of The Dragon Prince, since he felt like the least developed character out of the main cast. I do have some nitpicks with how his character was handled. Note, I haven’t seen books 6-7 in their entirety, so this critical analysis covers books 1 to the beginning of 6.
They should’ve changed his voice actor for arc 2.
This first one isn’t’ a huge criticism. As much as I think Sasha Rojen is a good actor. The TDP crew should’ve got a new young adult actor to voice an older Ezran to show how time has passed and how voices change in male adolescence.
2. His ability to communicate with Zym and the local fauna is still confusing.
I know the creators said it was an empathic or empathetic ability. Though every time he explains how he communicates with any animal and his telepathic connection with Zym to the audience it’s basically answering one question but ten more keep getting raised. Since Terry communicated with a nearby bird while searching for Viren in the first episode of Book 6 the creators could’ve confirmed that Ez had a dormant Earth Primal.
3. Doesn’t Ezran also want to help the 4 human kingdoms other than Xadia?
Since we know his goal is to create peace between both sides he should also consider helping the other 4 human kingdoms not just his own. To recap after Book 3, Neolandia’s king is in a coma and his eldest Son was killed at the Storm Spire. Also Del Bar and Evenere’s rulers have been killed. Both events that Viren and mainly Aaravos were responsible for. Shouldn’t Ezran also be sending aide to Neolandia, Del Bar, and Evenere aside from improving relations with Xadia? They could’ve had a B plot where Ez, Soren and Corvus travel to those three kingdoms to help improve their relations with Katolis to fix the discord Aaravos through Viren caused as dealing with the consequences from Books 2-3. Yet that never happened due to the 9 episode limit holding the series on a really tight leash as well as on Ezran’s character development.
4. His arc seemed poorly handled.
It seems like the writers knew what to do with him, but the execution did seem a bit mid. By that I mean Ezran has to constantly learn that words aren’t going to be enough to fully persuade a different side as seen with how he handled Kasef, Finnegrin, and Karim. All three persuasions were never successful. Since all 3 firmly stuck to their beliefs, and Ezran failed to fully convince them. What would’ve helped him is that after failing to convince the opposing side, he could have a moment with him and his allies to help calm him down and try to figure out another way to try convincing again. That would’ve helped the audience to sympathize with him. It wouldn’t have been hard to actually have screen time first Ez where we learn about his character, conflict and development, but it rarely ever happened in the series where they focused more on Callum, Rayla, and Viren. The latter being a character that had a lot more screen time and came off as a more interesting and well written morally ambiguous antagonist. Isn’t it ironic that Viren had plenty of scenes where the writers built him up as a tragic morally gray man and that made the audience sympathize with him? Maybe Ezran should also show why there shouldn’t be violence instead of straight up telling all the time. Since the show operated on Tell don’t Show logic. Words aren’t going to be enough to fully convince the opposite side.
I was really disappointed with how Ezran was handled over the series. He felt like an NPC ruler you’d find in fantasy novels that only helps to advance the story, instead of a leader protagonist who learns their lessons the hard way, constantly makes mistakes in their own arc, and understands what it takes to be a good leader for their kingdom and people.
probably a hot take but i don't really like ezran. i don't dislike him, he just feels like such a 2d character. maybe it's his voice acting (i'm sorry but it's so.. soulless?) or maybe it's the fact that his personality has no depth. like i get it, he's a child but i've seen a lot more interesting characters who were around the same age as him.
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revercemii · 2 months ago
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Miitopia 8th Anniversary🩷
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tonycries · 2 months ago
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Love Thy D!LF - T.F.
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Synopsis. Yes, your neighbor is a hot, pérvy D!LF. Yes, he’s a total tease. No, you don’t think your poor new bed frame is going to stay in one piece…
Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, older! Toji, voyéurísm, pánty-stéaling, male mast., exhibítionísm, he is so DOWN BAD, matíng presses, marathon s, víbrators, oraI (fem rec.), face-sítting, p slápping, p talking, BRÉEDING, mentions of kids, PÚSSYDRÚNK TOJI, proposals, overstím, creampíes, shóoting blanks, he’s a tease that’s shírtless half the time, Megumi’s a real one, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 8.1k (PHEW)
A/N. Apartment building wouldn’t last a week if he was my neighbor.
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Neighbor (UGH): another pair of those cute lil’ pajama shorts made their way onto my balcony again, ma.
Your neighbor was a tease.
Ever since you’d stepped foot into this apartment building a mere few months ago, it seemed like everything and anything he did was to rile your poor head up into a frenzy - and, well, down there…
Because, for lack of a better term, Toji Fushiguro was hot. 
Once your landlord had off-handedly mentioned that the occupant of the apartment right beside your own was a single father, you’d imagined a sweet older man that doted on his young son and would likely steer clear out of your way. 
What you certainly had not expected was for your housewarming gift of a fresh batch of cookies to be oh-so-blatantly greeted by a staggeringly gorgeous man that took up every inch of the doorframe. Shirtless.
Bzzt–!
Your skin burns with the realization of just how deeply you’d been reminiscing back to that heavenly sight, hastily snapping your eyes back onto your blaring phone screen.
Neighbor (UGH): well? hurry before i start to like them too much <3
Ugh, you’re rolling your eyes at that mischievous little heart placed at the end of his text. It was absolutely embarrassing how that was enough to have a tiny squeal slipping through your lips involuntarily. Calling you flirty nicknames, flashing winks your way, lingering his hands just slightly whenever he helped carry your groceries upstairs - Toji did everything. 
You find yourself giving your reflection a slow one-over in your phone camera - just in case. Before padding eagerly down the treacherous pathway that carried you out of your apartment and along the five steps down the corridor to your neighbor’s door. 
Heaving out a shaky breath, you knock.
And Toji Fushiguro never made you wait. He never had you standing in the hallway for more than two seconds before that heavy wooden door swings open…almost as if he’d been suspiciously standing by for this.
“Took ya long enough. Heh, I was beginning to think you almost wanted me to have it, doll.”
Oh.
Oh.
Shit, you should’ve known - and it takes every ounce of will in your body to keep your gaze locked with the forest-green eyes sweeping down the expanse of your figure. Greedily. 
Because Toji was showing off what looked like miles upon miles of slightly-tanned, bulging muscles that were just about seconds away from ripping straight through the thin, white undershirt that stuck to him like a second skin. Molding to every curve and dip down, down, down- 
It’s not something new exactly, and if there was one thing you’d learned during your time here, it was that your eccentric neighbor wasn’t shy to show skin.
Especially around you. 
In one hand was grasped the soft fabric of your cotton shorts, swallowed up by his thick digits. The other propping up on top of the door to flex his strong biceps in a way that makes you gulp. 
You notice with a jolt that Toji’s pinkish tongue briefly peaks out to swipe over that sinful scar sitting prettily at the very edge of his smug smirk. Moving to hum cockily, “Cat got yer tongue?”
He knew what he was doing. 
God, this was already shameful enough without him making it worse. You were only grateful that so far you’d been called over for only a few sundresses and t-shirts - nothing scandalous, yet. 
“No-” you’re mumbling out. Trying oh-so-hard to not let your eyes flicker to the too-tight strain of his boxers around his thick thighs. Failing. “Just wondering how you probably need those shorts more than me, anyway.”
He didn’t - in fact, you’d prefer him without one.
A fat thumb of his finds its way to the hem of his boxers, tugging down so tantalizingly slightly to give you a sexy flash of skin. Lined with a sharp hipbone, and a dark happy trail - “S’that your way of tellin’ me you want me out of this, ma?”
“You wish, pervert.” You try to swipe at your shorts, only for Toji to dangle it far, far away from you. “I just meant those b-boxers look like they’ve seen better days. Years, even.” 
“Hah?” Toji’s dragging out mockingly, leaning his broad shoulders against the doorframe. He’s crossing his hands, letting your sight be obscured by the display of his strong, rippling forearms. So close now that you feel his breath fan your face, could smell every waft of his cinnamony masculine scent. Grin only widening, “M’being nice enough to take the time outta my day to hand over your cute lil’ pieces of laundry and this is how ya talk to me? I have better things to do, y’know.”
Huffing, you’re ready with a quick apology on the very tip of your tongue to get this over with as soon as possible. That is, before-
“He’s lying.”
Both of you snap your heads down towards the direction of the sullen, deadpanning voice. And you already know by the wearied sigh at the end who it belongs to. 
“Why, hello there, Megs-” you’re smiling, reaching out to ruffle those spikes of black hair that’d magically manifested beside the door. Ignoring Toji’s affronted grunts of “he never lets me do that.”
“He’s lying, y’know.” Megumi blinks his eyes up at you, and you silently wonder just how it was possible for a six-year-old to look like he’s seen all the horrors of the world already. He’s ruthless. Pointing a sharp, accusatory finger up at his father, “He doesn’t have better things to do. He’s been giggling disgustingly to himself in front of the door for the past-”
“That’s enough- why don’t you get some homework done, my son.” Toji’s clapping his hand immediately over Megumi’s mouth, wrangling his tiny, thrashing body over one shoulder before briefly disappearing inside. 
“Just tell her!”
“I’m taking your iPad time away!”
It’s just about all that you hear from inside before he makes his appearance again - shaggy, black tresses now disheveled, high cheekbones flushed, and from the corner of your very obvious staring you notice a pearly bead of sweat disappear between his cushiony pecs. Though, your eyes follow, you didn’t mind…
“Tch- kids these days, right?” he’s gasping in a few hurried lungfuls. Planting the shorts into your open palms, his calloused pads linger on your hand. “S-so uh, I take that the dryer’s not working, yet?”
You’re sighing, rubbing your fingers over your throbbing temples. “Yeah, I told Higuruma- our landlord to look at it, but he’s still on that business trip and won’t be back for a while. Sorry about all this, Toji.”
“Please-” he’s waving. “You worry your pretty lil’ head too much, it’s not like m’complaining now. Am I?”
“Yeah but-”
“Besides. Why don’t I take a look at it?”
“What?” your brows scrunch together, and the thought of Toji being inside your home made your words tremble ever-so-slightly with- anticipation? Excitement? Want? Whatever it was, it made his dark brows raise, and you’re sure you had an utterly unexplainable look on your face right now. “Do you even know how to?”
He’s scoffing, eyes rolling at you with practice. “Asking me if I know how to fix shit- of course, I fuckin’ know how to fix a dryer. Probably better than ol’ clipboard Higuruma himself. You need to be taken care of, y’know.”
And, yes, that might be so - but more than that came the idea that Toji had to enter your home to do so. You couldn’t help but think of something else. Making you mutter out a heated, “I’ll…consider it.”
He smiles a smug smile, a tiny dimple digging into the very end of his cheek. “Tha’s what I like to hear, ma.”
The very second that door shuts, you’re rushing back to your own apartment. Shorts clutched to your thumping heartbeat and thighs slightly weaker than they were just a few minutes ago. Slightly…hotter. Ready to scramble back into your bedroom and create just a bit more laundry for tomorrow. 
And only a few seconds later does Toji find himself doing the most pathetic fistbump behind closed doors. The beginnings of a sleazy smile on the very edges of his lips. 
“Smooth, dad.”
“Now I’m serious about no iPad-”
Megumi’s running back into his room before that rasping threat has even left Toji’s predictable lips. Grumbling, he’s making his way to that godforsaken frog-cased iPad cushioned in the middle of the sofa, possibly to hide it away for a few hours.
And then, he sees it. 
Now, one of the very reasons that Toji had rented this apartment in the first place was for that idyllic skyline winking up from over his balcony. Towering buildings, flashing lights, all overlooking his living room couch - which, unfortunately for him - or, well, fortunately more like - just-so-happened to be positioned right next to your own balcony lined with laundry. 
So it wasn’t exactly a surprise for him to catch a fluttering piece of cotton or ratty sleep shirt of yours for him to tease about later. 
With a sigh at the flashing piece of fabric, he’s shuttering the sliding window open - ready to call your pretty self over again before-
“Shit.” Toji hisses, deep baritone wavering. His brows are raising down at the stray cloth, prominent Adam’s apple bobbing with a gulp. You really wear this type of shit? Well, he shouldn’t exactly be surprised but…
But this?
Because wrapped easily around his long fingers was a pair of pretty, pretty lace panties. Panties. All pink and see-through enough that Toji thinks he could see his own fingerprints through that flimsy excuse of underwear. 
All of a sudden…his hands mindlessly raise up, up, up - mere inches away from his nose when…fuck.
“Damn, woman.” he’s spitting, snapping back to his senses. Ignoring the tightening in his pants to speedwalk his hasty way over to his bedroom in search of his phone. Just a few clicks away from texting you- “Gonna be the fuckin’ death of me I swear-”
And, see, Toji Fushiguro isn’t the type to stutter. 
He isn’t the pathetic type to let anyone else’s voice shoot a bolt of electricity down his spine - to choke right in the middle of his sentence. 
But, you always did throw him off, didn’t you?
Because he’s letting his maw slack open in a sharp gasp- no, shudder at the muffled, drawling sound from beyond the walls. Fingers loosening around his phone in sheer shock when he snaps his head towards his shared wall where your bedroom was. 
Where he could hear your honeyed voice. Moaning. 
And Toji gulps…before locking the door to his bedroom.
Like an animal, he’s immediately sneaking up to press his greedy ear against the wall where it was emanating from. Aching for every tiny gasp and whine, he could just imagine the way you were splayed out across your plush mattress, fingers buried deep.
So cute.
“Please- it feels s-so good.” Comes your cute mewl, followed by the buzzing vrrrr—! of what he assumes to be that hot pink rose toy of yours that’d accidentally gotten delivered to his address last week. And Toji almost snickers.
“F-fuck-” he breathes out shakily. Unabashedly listening for more, more, more- “Ya can’t be serious- what a treat.”
And Toji knows he should be the bigger person and stop listening, he knows he should ignore the sultry way your trembling moans were sending shockwaves down to his tight boxers. But he can’t.
“Ngh- r-right there-” you’re whimpering, and Toji tuts at the way he could’ve found your sweet spots much earlier. “-yeah- hah- jus’ a little more- Toji-”
His phone clatters! to the ground.
Did you just say…his name?
“Fuck-” One massive hand of his comes down to clap over his jaw-dropped mouth, biting back an answering moan coming from something dangerously dark, primal from inside his heaving chest. 
Shit, he can’t breathe - he can’t even think right now because every drop of blood in Toji’s entire body was sprinting down to his heavy cock smacking down his thigh. Rock-hard. Angry. Just twitching when your voice repeats his name louder. 
“Toji—!”
Ah, there it was again. And with it, he can feel every shred of his sanity being thrown away. Only once- twice was enough to get Toji addicted. To have his melty mind yearning to hear it again. And again. And again and again and-
Toji feels pathetic. 
Like some hormone-hazed, younger version of himself when his hands frantically fumble their way to hook into the elastic band of his boxers. Feeling absolutely zero guilt when he tugs-
Toji was hard. Painfully, furiously hard just from the mere sound of your voice. Swollen and sobbing. It was enough to have his fat, strawberry-pink tip smack! against his toned abs, smearing down a wet glissade of precum that makes him hiss. All but drooling at the scratch of your panties being wrapped delicately around his sensitive shaft. 
“Oh god.” he’s breathing out, thumbing over a wet glide on the bawling divot of his swollen head. It’s pooling like a translucent little puddle, wet enough that those pearlescent beads gloss a wet trail all the way down to his wrist. And he’s popping the salted-caramel digit into his mouth. “Wh-who the fuck do ya think you are ta get me this hard, ma?”
The fat curve of his thumb latches on to plug up the very ends of his cock, stopping himself from wasting a single precious drop before listening.
For anything.
“C-c’mon–” Toji lets his heavy body lean against the wall after a few more sloppy squelches that pull from your saturated cunt. He could already hear how dripping wet you were. How needy. “Wanna hear your hah- pretty lips talk-”
Toji’s sinking his sharp canines onto his lower lip to hold back a groan. Because as much as he loved to hear himself talk - hearing you moan was worth more than anything. Even if it cost him his rationality to quieten down. Please- 
Ah, his prayers are answered.
Because the wall slightly jitters with your vibrating voice once more. “Oh- sh-shit it feels so good-”
“Heheh, does it?” he’s grunting, drawing a slow wetness of swirls on the underside of his slit. Hard enough to send him seeing stars. “Tell me- t-tell me more, ma.”
And could you read his mind?
Because whatever’s left of it certainly seems to think so at the way that no sooner are the words spilling from his babbling lips that you’re feeding his blessed ears with a few more syrupy sweet whines. And Toji shivers when he hears the creak of your bed.
Damn…he could make it break. He’s sure. 
The thought is enough to send his hips rutting into his fist, furiously fucking up into it like he was angry. Like he wishes he could do with you-
“O-oh-” Toji gasps out a hot, condensed breath feeling the slight massage of your thin panties at his twitchy balls. He’s unsteadily picking its sticky cloth apart to press it even deeper into the drenched tufts of black at his hilt, down every thumping vein that’s lightning-bolted down his length. “This thing b-barely even wraps around my cock, doll.”
He’s hot. So, so hot. Latching onto the hem of his undershirt with his teeth to swipe across his sensitive nipples. 
Burning.
And, really, he didn’t know what was worse for his poor self - your noises from just the other room, or the way your panties felt so good down his cock in this one. 
“Good fuckin’ girl.” He twirls your panties around his fat hilt, meshing against the creamy pink at his hefty base. Fucking it up, up, up with pound after pound that half-leaves the poor thing in tatters. Well, he sure hoped you didn’t like this pair too much. “Probably so fuckin’ oh- wet now, huh? Did I do that? Didn’t know you were s-such a slut f’me.”
Every slobbering drag down his length has Toji’s dark brows knitting together. Back and forth back and forth back and- So hard. 
So hot and heavy. He could barely catch his breath, sweat perspires across his forehead, and Toji could almost taste the metallic tang of blood when he’s holding back every rasping ah! ah! ah! just to hear your voice. 
It was agonizing. 
And he couldn’t help but imagine the way you were probably toying your tired fingers over your clit - the way you’d probably be so shy at how he could so clearly hear you. Killing Toji that it was the only thing he could do.
SLAM!
“Shit-” Toji’s snapping his head up at the mindless way his free hand had come smashing down onto the nearby drawer for any shred of balance. Sharp ears searching desperately for any sign that you’d heard-
“Ngh- yes- jus’ a bit more-”
He breathes out a guilty sigh of relief when the saturated slurps of your cunt only continue. Filling his mind sloppily like his favorite song. Gulping in a harsh wad of saliva before spitting a thick stream right onto the very edge of his plump, reddish head. His hulking body wracks with a violent shudder as it drip! drip! drips down every tender spot on his swollen cock. Beading down to cover his heavy balls in a thin sheen of spit. 
“Look what you’ve done.” he’s spitting. Other hand coming down to rub lazy, massaging circles around his bulbous, cum-filled sacks. The sheer stimulation enough to have his head lolling drunkenly against the wall.
“M’so close-” Your voice only makes Toji fuck into his hand even harder - if only it was you. You, you, you - the only thing playing around his currently stupid mind. “-g-gonna cum ah-”
That makes him bawl out another furious wave of precum staining your panties see-through, glinting with every flutter down his raw cock. Faster. It was building and building up so close-
“C-close already?” he’s snickering, bending at the knees with how weak he was. Toji’s biceps flex and and ache with just how wildly he was fucking up into his fist, abs rippling with each wild buck. He half-wonders if he’d be able to see that pretty frilly pattern of your panties imprinted on his cock the next day. Over and over- “I woulda m-made you cum sooner.”
Would your beautiful eyes roll to the very back of your head when you did?
Would you beg him to cum, too? To fill you up. To breed you. Shit, that had his hefty shaft twitch in his hands, electricity flashing behind Toji’s eyes. 
Would you moan his name - oh, please moan his name.
“P-please-” Toji finds himself gasping, and his entire body was hunched over now. Pathetic. Waiting for any second that you’d reach your high - he was a gentleman, after all. “Cum f’me- ah fuck fuck fuck-” Twiddling a manicured thumb in a slow line underneath his sensitive slit, it was making him moan so dangerously loud. “-please- cum on this fuckin’ cock, ma.”
“Fuck! Toji-” Comes your yelp, and it makes his mouth water. Breath held in a choked-up gasp in his puffing chest, “-m’cumming.”
He could see it already - just how pretty you’d look with your head thrown back and your back arching into his cock when you finally reach your high. 
Now, Toji doesn’t know what overtook him to drag those drenched panties up to his face - to press it thoroughly against his nose and smell your essence. Breathing it in. drinking it in. But he can’t pretend like he hadn’t imagined it many, many times before. 
And it makes him cum 
It makes him shudder with a heavy puff of air, once. Twice. Before dumping and dumping out stringy wads of seed until your soft panties were soaked.
“Oh shit- shit shit shit-” he spews out a slurring slew of profanities, painfully hard cock bursting at the end with wet splatters of cum. So much of it. It’s making such a filthy mess that he almost feels guilty. 
Jaw clenching when he’s forced to part with your panties with a pained gruff, sliding it along his thoroughly coated cock. Hi cum seeps through the fabric and into a milky puddle that pools at his wrist, dripping down a milky sheen across his skin. 
“Mmpf–” his mouth salivates. A low, disappointed scoff bursting at the back of his throat when your own obscene noises quieten down. He missed you already. Dewy eyes veering to the back of his head, he’s only wondering how much prettier these would look on you. Still as ruined. “You’d be lucky to get these fuckin’ panties back, woman.”
Bzzt–! 
From its discarded place on the floor, he can read the notification flashing across the phone screen.
Cutie-next-door: I’ve decided - can you come by tomorrow to fix the dryer, pleeeease?
---
“-ah, ya see when this vent is clogged s’gonna stop working. And so what you hafta do is-”
You weren’t listening.
You couldn’t.
Because Toji Fushiguro was sprawled out across your cramped kitchen - completely shirtless.
You had half the mind to turn him away after he’d knocked on your door with absolutely no sign of any upperwear - that sleazy grin plastered all over his face begging the answer to whether this was on purpose. To tease you. “Can move better this way” your ass. 
But the thought of having even more of your laundry fly away, forcing you to potentially face this very same display multiple times is what had you opening your front door wider to let him inside. 
No matter how much you would’ve appreciated the view…
And so here you were, squirming in one corner of the kitchen while Toji worked on your dryer. Sweat sheening down his swole muscles, disappearing in tempting beads down underneath his low-hanging pants. Slight smears of grease decorate his pecs, and you have to cross your arms to stop yourself from thumbing them away. He was so handy. 
Shit, this was why you’d dolled-up just a bit more than usual. He was so-
“-doll? Doll.”
“Uh-” you’re yelping, blinking your eyes back up to meet an extraordinarily smug smirk now directed at you. “W-what were you saying?”
“Heh, I was saying you should take a picture, it’ll last longer.” he titters with a slight rumble, tools clinking when he’s taking off his bulky gloves. “Ya can enjoy the view later, but I was askin’ if ya had anything to dry right now to test this piece of junk.”
Urgently, you’re looking towards your empty laundry basket. “Sorry, seems that I dried them all out yesterday.”
“No pressure, besides-” You can only watch when he shuffles a hand inside one of his curiously bulging pant pockets. “-I came prepared.”
“Wh-wha- where did you get that?” 
Because held so daintily within Toji’s cocky clutches, dangled one of your missing pairs of panties. They looked recently washed, and you’re reaching with a yelp for it. Falling onto your knees to match his seated position - which, obviously didn’t mean he’d hand it over. 
Why would he? This was Toji Fushiguro. 
He only throws them into your dryer, before closing the door with a dark snicker, “More like why let them fly their merry way over to my balcony again. Honestly- you call me the tease but look who’s talking.”
“You’re saying I’m the tease?” you shrill. The embarrassment was getting to you now - it was overconsuming you - and if the leering smirk on Toji’s face was anything to go by, you were sure that it was visible. 
“If the shoe- or, well, panties fit.”
He was so cocky about his stupid lil’ joke. 
You stab a rude finger right between the valley of his pecs, copping a feel of the velvety smooth skin. “Sh-shut up, if you want to talk about a tease then let’s talk about who showed up to fix a dryer shirtless.”
“Part of the outfit.” he shrugs. Tilting his head up at you, and shit, it finally hits you how precariously close you two are right now. Toji’s splayed out on your cool kitchen tile, while you’re straddling his slender waist with jittery legs, pressed up against the heated proximity of his unfairly shirtless body. Chest-to-chest. “Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy the view, little miss had-a-fun-time-yesterday.”
You blink, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
But in true Toji fashion, the closest to an answer you get is a large hand attaching roughly onto your waist. Jostling your body close enough for him to breathe out in a feverish chuckle - hot, and purposeful against your ear. “The walls are thin. Just sayin’.”
Oh.
Oh, shit. 
You knew exactly what he was talking about - and so did he. 
“...I heard you, too, y’know.”
Ah, you can now live your life happily knowing that you managed to make the ever-confident Toji gasp. You managed to make him part his lips in a slight gape, green eyes glinting with a hint of something dangerous as they widen. His sensory digits pinch at your hips. 
“You mean-”
“Yes.”
Uncharacteristically, Toji takes a few gulping seconds to find his voice. And when he does - the very sound is enough to send shivers down your spine and make you wonder for a split-second whether this was really him. Hoarse, pained when he muses, “You heard me and still continued?”
Instantly, you’re trying to form excuses. “No! I mean- yes. It’s just that…”
“Heh, cute. You continued because of me- didn’t ya?”
Your jaw drops in shock, now a slightly defensive tone bleeding in with the embarrassment of your actions. “I-I mean I was doing- it- just fine before I heard you.”
Toji cocks his head, and only says one thing - “Prove it.”
.
.
.
“T-Toji this is embarrassing-”
But oh, all that Toji was wondering was whether he’d knocked his head on that goddamn dryer and gone to heaven already. 
Because splayed out for all his pleasure on the cushiony bed was you - quivering legs straddled wide open, your back arched in such a delicious curve that makes his mouth water. Your silken sheets were disheveled and sloppy enough that you’d have to pray the dryer works now. Glistening cunt winking down at him eagerly, just begging him in cute, slurring squelches after every buzzing push of your vibrator.
And Toji? Seated right underneath your cute cunt - hovering mere inches away from sitting on his cocky smirk. 
All he’d been imagining. As gorgeous as how he’d imagined you yesterday- no, even more so.
Toji’s leering up at you, muscular thighs manspreading even more to show off his furiously hard erection. “Shhh sh sh-” Toji hums, eyes unwavering from right between your legs. “She’s the one talkin’ to me right now, doll.”
And surely enough, it’s almost like he’s having a conversation with your pussy. Nodding and drunkenly humming along to every slurp that resounds across the heady room. “Tha’s right, make her- make her even wetter for me.”
He’s letting loose his long pinkish tongue to catch the drops of your sweet, sweet juices that slide down his throat. 
His breath is so steaming hot against your cunt. Feverish. You huff out a dragged-out whine, kissing up your plump clit with the very edge of your rose toy. Just barely teasing the sensitive hood, “B-but I need you so-”
“Now now, what did I say?” he tuts away your stubborn moans easily. And you’re gazing over your shoulder upon the utterly unapologetic grin that falls across Toji’s face when he tugs down his own pants to flash you with the fat, rotund curve of his ruddied tip. Curling his fingers over the very top, “You don’t need me, remember- Let that pretty pussy talk with me or all you’re gonna do is watch.”
Except now you didn’t think you could talk even if you wanted to.
Your eyes are glazing over with a fresh wall of need when they fall greedily upon the peaking sight of Toji’s fat cock. So massive that it makes your jaw slip open, your cunt gushing out in a few gushes of slick. 
“Oh shit- shit-” his eyes widen at the sight, so thoroughly honed in. Almost as if he doesn’t even realize he’s speaking to you. Doesn’t even know. And a few ringing squelches is all it takes for him to throw his head back with a groan. “That got ya wet, ma, didn’t it? Made your cute ngh- c-cunt happy?”
“Yes-” you’re gasping, winking away the overstimulated tears in your eyes. “B-but I want you-”
“Tell me exactly  what you want, doll.”
So bossy, you want to snap back. 
But right now you’re too hypnotized by the slutty sight of him to say a word. The way he seemed so ruined. That you can’t help but whimper, “I want you to hah- make me cum.”
And it’s just a split-second later when his brawny arms come wrapping around your jittery waist, hauling you over like some glorified rag doll to seat your fatigued legs down. Your dripping cunt meeting his mouth in a sultry, sultry French kiss. 
He doesn’t waste a second longer - almost as if beating himself up for all the time wasted - before dragging his tongue to open your presoaked folds. Swirling so hotly to smear them out across his lips, Toji dredges his raised scar across your most tender spots and moans. 
Sweet.
So sweet.
“This- this fuckin’ delicious?” He sounded like he was losing his mind, swatting aside your hand. “Move that fuckin’ hand. Y-you were- you were holding out on this? Could eat this cute cunt all the time- could marry ya-”
Proposing and proposing and kissing-
He latches down his glistening canines around your clit and pinches, almost as if a little punishment. And you could practically see the delight lighting up his dark eyes when your cunt slowly grows even more drenched. Little masochist, he’s thinking. 
You yelp when without any sort of warning his cheeks hollow out in a sudden suck at your sensitive nub, swirling his tongue over it. “H-how’s that feel?” he giggles - giggles. “Better than your imagination or what?”
It already was. 
But you couldn’t let his ego expand anymore than it already has, so the only thing you’re managing to do is trap a few sweat-dampened locks of his hair and drag your slobbering cunt down Toji’s mean mouth. Partly because you needed it, partly because you needed him to shut up. 
Choking out, “D-don’t get so full of yourself, Toji��”
“Full of myself?” he’s chuckling - face smeared with a translucent mask of glistening slick that told you exactly why he should be full of himself. It glosses over his curled lips and drips down Toji’s sharp jawline. “Full of myself? Gimme that-”
Instantly, your till buzzing vibrator is being snatched meanly out of your hands. “S’this what ya want, instead, ma?”
Toji didn’t expect an answer.
And you can’t give him one.
Because that furiously jittery probe is being bullied right between your puffy pussy lips, licking a languid line down the edge of your sloppy hole. Before he’s bullying the long end inside your eager entrance-
“Does it feel good?” he’s taunting. Sinking down onto your clit and pulling. “Oh yeah- feels great. Doesn’t it?”
But it’s such a mouthful that sputtered out into your clit. The vibrations of white-hot pleasure making your spine bow like such a slut into Toji’s ravenous mouth. And your jaw slack open in the most strained of whines, “Y-yeah feels so-mmpf-”
Immediately, your mouth is being firmly shut closed with one of Toji’s mountainous palms, and he snickers. Giving you pretty lil’ cunt a pat that has splatters of slick speckling all the way to his lips - ones that he gladly licks up. And then some at the remnant excess all over your thighs. “I was talking to her.”
“Y-you’re so mean.”
At this, he pulls back and blows a heated gust of air against your puckered hole. “And you’re fucking drenched.” That spearing bullet is lodged firmly against a few tenderized sweet spots that make you keen. “And she’s saying…s’not enough.”
You were sure he was talking for himself. 
Or…was he? 
Honestly, you don’t even know - you didn’t even realize what you were missing until the fat girths of Toji’s digits shove their filthy way into your narrow opening. Already so stuffed, yet, he’s scissoring aside the vibrator into the gooey depths of your walls. 
Either you could take him or he’ll make space. 
Whistling out in awe, “Dontcha think this feels muuuch better?” As if to whittle out another one of your syrupy sweet noises, you’re being gifted with another sopping wet thwack! against the ready nub of your clit. Before Toji wraps his scarred lips around it and sucks. “Look- she’s even fuckin’ wetter.”
You didn’t even have to see to be able to know - because you could hear. 
Toji was steadily pummeling your cunt with the most staggering smashes of the rounded curves of his fingertips into your sweetest spots. Jostling the vibrator inside, knuckles smashing it with friction to rub up against your constricting walls. 
Honestly, it was just so much. You felt stuffed. 
“F-feels like m’gonna explode.” you mewl at the heady thump! thump! thump! shuddering all across your body - and you didn’t know whether it was because of the thundering pulse in your ears, because of the way Toji’s fingers were crashing and thrusting against your tender g-spot. His neatly cut fingernails glide soaking wet grazes over and over in a sloppy staccato. “Ah! Right there, it f-feels so good-”
“Tch, you think I don’t know?” Toji’s rolling his eyes, muttering his words into your sopping slit. His free hand comes slamming down in a harsh smack! against your ass to make you lug against his face faster. “Ride yourself on me, ma.”
You stumble through it - yearning for more. 
“Faster.”
“I-I’m trying.’”
But it wasn’t enough. Obviously. 
And Toji’s impatiently revolving one hand around the curve of your waist to make you press down hard in the most sultry gyrations. Around and around it had him hypnotized. “Not tryin’ hard ‘nough. Cuz this pretty lady h-here’s just crying to cum, doll. Ya hear her?”
How could you not?
It’s all that you replay in your mind. Accompanied with a shot ngh ngh ngh that was curdling at the very back of Toji’s throat. Whispered into every graze of his tongue down your slit, you took a quick glance backwards to catch the way that he was properly fucking his fist now. 
Long, thorough drags down his achy cock to bead out wet sloshes of precum. Only getting faster. Sloppier. Red and angry-
“Shit.” you’re whimpering, hands steadying on either side of his bulging deltoids. It felt like your very bones were rattling along with the vibrator. Nails digging in to the muscle, “I th-think m’close- think m’gonna-”
And oh Toji’s eyes stray to the back of his head at how reminiscent this was of just yesterday. Snickering a heavy, “You ‘think’? I know she’s so fuckin’ close. Can feel her. Isn’t she? Gonna cum? Gonna make a ngh- mess on me, is she?”
Answeringly, he’s leaving another few smacks! on your mound that have your gooey walls fluttering, the double penetration of both the buzzing bullet and his fingers too much. Too close. You feel every delicate bundle of your nerves exasperate. 
And it’s impossible not to mumble out drunkenly - embarrassingly. “Sh-she is.”
It’s so rough.
Both your release and the way that Toji was fucking you through it - because the very moment he hears your breath hitch in a saturated manner similar to last time, he’s tugging out your buzzing vibrator and toppling it somewhere over the bed. Replacing it with every long inch of his heated tongue- 
Like hell he’d have you cumming on some damn plastic before his tongue.
“Shit- it feels so-” Barely managing to formulate the words into coherent syllables. Your body convulses when he swiftly pecks your pretty clit with the rose toy instead. “-so good- ngh! M’cumming m’cumming ah-”
Toji’s fucking you through your high with the double stimulation of his fingers and his tongues spreading open your snug insides mercilessly. Ruthlessly. Wave upon wave of pleasure that had your toes curling, vision flashing white. Sensitive pussy dredging up from the very bottom of his sharp chin all the way up to his button nose. 
It’s adorable how tired you were already, already huffing and puffing for breath. He could almost laugh if he didn’t have a mouthful already.
“Yeah tha’s right-” he slurps, more than talks. Thick digits curling tight and thumbing over his twitchy divot to wall up that velvety wisp of cum from escape. Leaving kiss after kiss to have your drooling cunt ride his sexy features faster. “-give it t’me.” Greedy. “Give it alllll to me.”
But even that didn’t seem like enough.
Because even after your aggressive orgasm was petering out into mere tingles at your quivering pussy, even after he’d slurped up every tiny drop of your honeyed juices - Toji Fushiguro was starved. 
So completely ravenous when he speaks, “I think…she’s sayin she wants ta squirt, doll.”
“Wh-what?” you’re breathing - you didn’t even know if that was possible.
With a surprising amount of gentleness, Toji’s placing you to sit all prettily on his spread legs. Just slobbering your pussy lips in an innocent smooch over his hardness. 
“Heh, what? Don’t trust me?” Toji cocks his head down at you in sheer smugness, a glistening gloss stained all around his lips. It made him look so fucked-out. And he felt like he already was - but Toji wouldn’t admit that. No, he’s only murmuring a wet, “Or are ya scared that m’gonna get ya ah- addicted?”
You showcase him with a slight pout that makes his riled-up cock twitch in one hand. That makes him immediately kiss it away - letting you taste him. Taste yourself. 
It’d already taken everything in him to stop himself from cumming just by making out with your cunt. 
“No s’just that- I’ve never squirted before…”
His words are sure. Confident. He’s echoing them from not too long ago, “Lemme take a look at that.”
And apparently Toji’s definition of taking a look is to slide the curve of his thick thumb in-between your dribbling slit. Up and down until his lips curl in a smile, “Well she’s tellin’ me that she can-oh shit, look at that.” Those very same fingers wrapping around the hilt of his thick cock to nudge your folds apart. “So why don’t I fix that, hm?”
God, Toji is so much bigger than he looked - which was staggering considering his sheer bulge was enough to send your mind reeling.
The curve of his fat tip bathes in a few more of your syrupy drops before bullying inside-
“O-oh my god-” Your voice wavers, sweat simmering all down your body at how dizzyingly Toji was spearheading your cunt open. Wide. So much of him that you didn’t know whether to buck your hips away or down for more, more, more- “S’too big- shit, don’t even know if I can ngh- t-take it, Toji–!”
“Oh, say my name like that once more n’ you’re gonna ah- hafta take every inch.” he grunts out, snarling smile making your gummy walls flutter around him. 
You’re being fed every solid inch, Toji’s girth making your tight circumference stutter. Gaping your sloppy hole wide open around his expanding cock- shit, just the slightest peak into your heavenly depths was enough to have his fat length swelling. Pushing into your tender sweet spots when he grows. 
“Y-you got even bigger?” you gasp, and it makes him cackle.
Throwing his head back to laugh, “Of course I got f-fuckin’ bigger when you feel like this, ma.” And two of his roughened palms glide their greedy pathway downwards to spread your thighs even further. Using gravity to his lewd advantage to help you gulp down your every mindless grind to simply fit himself inside. “W-where have ya been all my life.”
And Toji sounded like he was genuinely distraught that he didn’t know. 
He was genuinely so upset, lower lip wobbling with pure bliss once your overstuffed pussy was resting on his sharp hip bones. Giving an experimental little gyration of his hips to swirl his shaft around your walls, it makes you whine. 
“Tha’s what m’fuckin’ talking about.”
And then in a split-second, you’re being slammed onto your back and wrangled into the meanest mating press you never thought possible. 
It’s like Toji was out of control. 
Feral.
A slight trickle of drool trailing down the edge of his growling lips, “Shit- take my fucking cock ngh- take it all, doll. Ya don’t know how long I’ve been d-dreaming of this.”
“Yes yes yes-” you sputter. Edging your uselessly limp thighs to lock around Toji’s straining neck - and if he was going easy on you before. Then oh, you weren’t ready for the way this makes him snap his flexing body down to fold you in half. His sweat-beaded forehead knocking gently into yours, “-been ah- been dreamin’ of this ever since I m-moved in-”
Shit.
The thick pudge of Toji’s relentless head careens into the bullseye of your g-spot easily. And Toji titters to himself about the pretty moans that drag from your shot throat - that is, if he had the self-control.
Because your previous words were still thundering in his pussydrunken mind, and it makes him gasp. It makes him shoot his eyes open almost comically, it makes him crash his lips into your with a sullen hiss. “Give a man a fuck- warning. You c-can’t just say- things- like- that-”
As if to prove his point, he’s planting a few more heated French kisses against your sweetest spots. How he mapped them out so quickly you had no idea. 
His feverish breath hovers over your own mouth, gusts bounding out with every pound into your cunt. He’s bruising the circular branding of his sobbing tip down your spongy cervix, a tiny ah! of disappointment leaving Toji’s stern lips at the recoil that had him pushing back from the very bottom of your pussy. 
He’s so filthy. 
“Because what if–” It takes you a few seconds to realize that he’s still babbling drunkenly, flicking over a calloused thumb over your clit to get your delirious attention. “-are ya listening, woman? What- ah- what if I told ya I was the fuckin’ same. Wanted to f-fuck this cute cunt the moment I saw ya, wanted to ruin her- to breed her-”
And just when he’s heaving in such a sharp inhale. As if he’s spoken too much.
Yet, even through the way that Toji was fucking you stupid - you still manage to latch onto his words. 
“Y-you wanted to ah- cum inside?” you’re blinking up at him innocently in a way that only made his hips jackhammer against yours harder. Teasing your sensitive clit with a pinch. “Tell me, Toji.”
God- you said his name. 
Shit shit shit, didn’t he tell you not to-
“Yes!” Toji’s shuddering out, hefty balls twitching and thwacking their tight, cum-filled sacks against your ass. He’s fucking you so wildly. The mating press that he had you in let him glide a wet thrust down every single nook and cranny inside you. Every forbidden sweet spot. “Wanted- wanted it so badly- ah-”
Batting your teary lashes, “How badly?”
Two of Toji’s mean fingers come up to smush your cheeks together into an embarrassing pout, and he’s using that cutely ajar opening of your mouth to spit. A thick, honeyed wad of saliva that purposefully splatters along the edge of your lips - because Toji had perfect aim. He could’ve streamlined it all neatly between your lips.
But you looked and tasted so sweet this way.
When he could just kiss it away filthily with a drag of his tongue, “Shit- what a filthy fuckin’ mouth. Ya really know how to m-make me lose my mind, hm?” Splaying out one large palm about halfway down your stomach, he’s exploring for a lewd cylindrical nudge. A throb when his thickened head was smashing into your g-spot. “If ya i-insist- m’gonna fill ya up until I can feel it-” Pressing down. Hard. “Here.” And now he’s running his mouth a mile a minute, he’s dazed where his cadence grows sloppy. “Until you’re overspilling. Until yer all r-round and hngh- glowing and shit-”
God, he was flying too close to the sun.
Egging him on, he was fucking you into the bed like he was furious at you. Lurching out rickety creaks from the bedframe at his riotous slams! Teasing, “S-s’that it?”
“Is that it? I-is that it?” he’s repeating. Over and over like a humorless mantra. “No tha’s not- ah- fucking ‘it’. M’gonna shit- make you mine. Gonna fuck a b-baby or two into ya.” Shockwaves of electric white flashing down his spine when your gripping walls cling around him like a velvety channel. Stumbling through words, “So they’re gonna know- ah- th-they’re all gonna know what I did. Hah- how I ruined ya…”
You can only sob, “Toji– m’gonna-”
Stimulating tears gather up beside Toji’s eyelids with every pressurized ram, and he finds it in himself to rasp a drunken giggle. “G-gonna give Megumi a lil’ sibling, ma?”
He doesn’t have to hear your response, he doesn’t think he can. Because no sooner are you crashing into your orgasm that Toji is as well. 
He realizes before you - far, far before you at how you were squirting. 
Drizzling your juices in a coating gloss down his cock, his abs, some spattering up to Toji’s lips. He took a look into it alright. 
Your bolting waves of bliss intruded by his rummaging cock. Twitching once. Twice. Before struggling out thick gushes of sweltering hot seed. 
It’s splattering onto the very back of your bruised and battered cervix in a wet thwack! Oozing out the sides of your silt, you feel your gummy walls being inflated. The tug of ribbons upon ribbons of cum being fucked into sloshes inside and coats your melty walls like a second, sticky skin.
THUD!
Toji collapses onto his wearied forearms, caging you in with his big beefy biceps. Hips slowing down to tiny, subconscious ruts wrenching out the most obscene wet squelches. “Th-the heh- the fuckin’ bed.”
Only then are you batting your fatigued eyes open to realize that one side of the bed was sagging dangerously. “Toji did you b-break the bed?”
“Ah- so what?” And he’s scooping up your pliant body easily into his arms. Lifting you. Manhandling you. Pulling out of your split cunt for just a second to slam! you down onto your nearby work desk. The cool mahogany against your front makes you hiss, “I’ll jus’ t-take a ah- look at it.”
With this, he’s pressing down on the slightly bloated area near your cunt. Gaping. Gushing out thick remnants of his cum - it’s like he was playing around. 
The sight so heavenly that with a dragged-out gasp he’s finding his weepy cock blast out a few more wispy strands of cum. Shit.
“Shit- marry me-” Toji’s throwing his head back with a whimper - a whimper - when his jolting cock veers dangerously into the territory of shooting overstimulated blanks. “Marry me I-I swear. Gonna ah- put a pretty ring on ya, my doll.”
Which is why he’s swirling around his greedy pointer around your gaping entrance. Toying with the creamy ring of seed that’d painted its way around his thick base. Toji pools a few creamy dredges on his fingers and shoves them into your babbling mouth. “Ngh- Toji–!”
“Nowww, let’s see ngh- already finished off th-the bed-” he’s rattling off. Counting on a few fingers of his, “-we have the ohhh fuck- don’t squeeze m-me like that, ma, m’still sensitive- this desk, the floor- the dryer.”
“The dryer?” you mewl. “But you j-jus’ fixed that-”
“Ah, consider it a lil’ payment…along with those panties of yours, of course.”
And it’s only later. 
Hours and hours later, with your bed frame broken on one leg, your desk absolutely shattered, and your carpet soiled with a few whiteish rivulets that you’re finding yourself seated into a tight full nelson on top of the dryer. Toji still splitting you apart inside, shooting blanks before the front door rattles with a sudden knock! knock! knock! 
A deep voice resounding from outside, “Anybody home? It’s Shiu Kong. Higuruma sent me here to fix the dryer.”
“Fuckin’ Shiu…wanna let him in?”
---
“Hello, Shiu? How did the fixing go?” It’s by the next day that Higuruma gets a call in the middle of his important business meeting. One that would probably stay with him for a long, long time. “What do you mean the dryer is broken beyond repair?!”
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A/N. Hope you all have a lovely week <3
Plagiarism not authorized.
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therainbowwillow · 1 year ago
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hbomberguy’s latest video on plagiarism has made me completely rethink literature and writing. I have never once so much as considered intentionally plagiarizing anyone or anything, but I think there’s something more that has come out of this: the names of the people who created the works Somerton (and others) ripped off.
Plagiarism isn’t only bad because it is lazy and disrespectful, it’s bad because it buries the truth. If you can’t find a source, the conversation is over. Somerton’s sources are fairly easy to find by simply searching his plagiarized lines, but that isn’t true in most cases. Most of the time, the line from statement to source is a lot less clear.
Today, I was writing a report on English Ivy, which is an invasive species here in the US. I wanted to know when it was introduced and I at last found a source claiming it was introduced to the Americas “as early as 1727” on a .net website that seems quite reputable (it has multiple major universities credited in its home page), but there is no citation for where this date came from. I dug deeper and found a pamphlet created by a city government in Virginia that made the same claim, only to discover the first source linked in their bibliography. Another website (a botanical garden’s page) gave the same date with the same source hyperlinked. Of course, I have classes to attend and things to do and probably not enough time to follow the lines back to where this 1727 date came from, but if I had not just watched this video, I wouldn’t have given that date a second thought.
Of course, it doesn’t matter in the long run exactly what year hedera helix was introduced to the Americas, but it makes you wonder how many facts have been so vaguely attributed that it becomes completely impossible to figure out where they originated (and further, whether or not they’re true at all).
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ohcaptains · 11 months ago
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𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟.
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college! peter parker x fem reader.
18+ only !!! f! receiving oral sex. peter parker has an oral fixation i said what i said. in my spider-man era again.
peter was a weekly visitor at this point. sometimes, it was twice, but never more than three. three was pushing it.
Three said that Peter meant something to you, and you couldn’t have that. No, whatever this was between the pair of you was strictly transactional. It was Peter texting you late at night, the classic, you up? Gracing your screen, and every time, you would pretend to be annoyed.
As if Peter coming around to give you the greatest head of your life was an inconvenience. Tempted, the devil on your shoulder smirking, to type back, Jesus, again? but never doing it. Instead, you wrote: sure.
Still, it plagued your mind. He never asked for anything else.
It was as if he did this purely for himself.
“Oh fuck,” you mewled, clenching down tight. The hand that was wrapped around Peter’s brown curls clutched and tugged, and the unconscious movement earned you a chastised groan. It rumbled through your cunt, and the echo shot to your clit, making you close your eyes and lean back, wet mouth spilling his name into your dorm.
Peter liked hearing you.
Liked seeing you lose your mind with his head between your thighs, your pussy wet and throbbing from his mouth and fingers. It’s why he came around often. Sometimes, he wouldn’t even text, would just knock on your door -- looking sheepish from under his dark curls -- and just. Not. Say. Anything.
His silence was answer enough. You knew what he wanted. Or, needed, as you later figured out, as you saw how red he’d gotten when you told him he couldn’t come around for a bit. When you said something about focusing on exams, he’d come over anyway, whined, shuffled his feet and said, You can do your work, I just gotta…I’ll be quick.
The lack of explanation made your mind swirl. But regardless, you’d let him in and did your work with his head between your thighs. He’d tutored you, too, told you how to solve for x with his fingers inside of you. He’d said, if you let me make you come again, I’ll do your Maths work for the next week. After he’d left, you stared at the scene of the crime in pure silence.
Just…reflecting.
Peter fluttered his tongue over your swollen clit. Focused on swirling it around his tongue in sloppy, wet circles, and the thick desire that swelled between your thighs began to pool at your lower back, forcing you to arch up into it.
“Please,” you wept, even though he was giving you what you wanted. Flat on your back with his deft grip keeping your bare thighs open. It was 8 pm. He’d caught you just after your shower, so the smell of your shampoo and body wash wafted through the air – Lavender and pear.
Peter had spread you open and said you smelled like spring. You’d been far too turned on to comment on it. He grumbled into your cunt, and you managed to work out the word, more? You hummed, too drunk on him and wound tight to verbalise that yes, you wanted more. Wanted him to make you come, and come again, till all you could do was mumble his name and focus on your breathing.
He'd learnt how you liked it. Paid attention, and he was getting full scores as he pushed his tongue flat against your swollen clit and sucked. Your vision went white.
“Oh fuck – ohfuck, Peter—” you squirmed, but Peter was strong, and he held you to the bed with his vice-like grip, wordlessly saying take it take it take it.
He lapped at you, salvia drooling over your cunt and down his chin, soaking the sheets. He was always so careless. In moments like this, that nervous edge that always fluttered around him was gone, replaced by a visceral drive to either please you, or get what he wanted.
The two bled into each other.
His tempo was leisurely, but that didn’t stop the heat from washing over you all at once.
You clamped your thighs around his ears and moaned -- loud, so loud that you were sure the other students on your floor heard.
Still, the ache was erratic, “So good,” you sobbed, and you heard yourself, heard the near primal need in your voice, and the desperation made you embarrassed, made you cover your mouth with your palm and grip the sheets, willing yourself to cool it. 
“Move your hand, or I’ll stop,” he uttered against you, and your clit was so sore that the echo of his words made your eyes roll back. Peter must have seen, as he hummed a laugh, and kissed your inner thigh, “lemme hear you.”
Managing to gain some sense of sanity, you blearily blinked down at him, but all sense of stability you thought you had was wiped away when you saw Peter had his hand stuffed down his pants.
You dropped back onto the bed and sobbed.
You knew he got off on this, but Jesus Christ, you’d never seen that before.
“Gotta be kidding me,” you breathed, and Peter must have understood what you were referencing, as he buried his reddening face into your inner thigh. He let out a breathy chuckle, “’ M’sorry,” he mumbled, “usually I wait till I get home, but you’re just so hot.”
You had to stay completely still, or you’d burst. Usually, I wait till I get home?
Peter moved his face and began nuzzling the wet folds of your pussy. He bumped his nose against your clit, and you quietly choked.
Peter hummed, “couldn’t help myself.”
You figured he did something like that, but the admission made your thighs tense. You pictured him stumbling home – cheeks still wet with you – and tugging his pants down, quickly shoving his hands into his boxers and taking hold of his aching cock. Did he whimper when he came? Or was he silent, all tremors and low grunts? No. He definitely whimpered.
He was far too pretty to stay quiet.
The sudden desire to kiss him swept over you.
Reaching down, you tugged at his curls, wordlessly motioning him to move. When he did, you briefly saw the red of his cheeks and wet of his nose before you kissed him, all tongue, and tasted yourself on his pink lips.
Peter melted into you. Huffed your name like a sigh, and the sheer tenderness of it had you wrapping your legs around his back and pressing your bare cunt against his jeans.
He was rock-hard. Tentatively, you ran your nails over his chest, and dipped low, pressing between his thighs, cupping his bulge, and gently squeezing. Peter wept.
“Oh fuck,” he sobbed, as desperate as you imagined. With one hand in his hair and the other on his cock, you continued to kiss him, until the ache between your thighs became too much to bear.
“Make me come,” you whispered, “and I’ll put you in my mouth.”
Peter had never moved so fast in his life.
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gay-dorito-dust · 6 months ago
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Imagine going on adventures with Logan and Deadpool and you’re the voice of reason behind them 😆 Deapool the idiot with hot headed Wolverine that reader has to keep in check all the time
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It’s not easy being the only person with common sense in this rag tag trio of yours.
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^^ this is literally you babysitting two grown ass men that need to be kept on leashes and separated from one another in case they fight, again.
You are overworked and underpaid to be dealing with this shit, but there was no one else who had the patience for Wade nor the compassion and empathy for Logan as you did.
So unfortunately you were stuck with them for every mission given but despite how vastly different and incompatible some of you were -*cough* Logan and Wade *cough*- you three worked well enough together that you were a force to be reckoned with.
You were forced to face situations where wade would be pissing Logan off to the point his claws were out, and you had to pat the rugged man on his shoulder, wait for him to look at you as you pointed towards his claws;
‘Them. Away. Now.’ -you.
Wolverine: *grunts*
You: don’t give me attitude, put. them. away. Now.
Wade: ohhh Logan’s in trouble!
You would then look at Wade before pointing at him like a disappointed parent: and you, stop pissing him off if you like to keep your dick where it is! Or so help god me I’ll cut it off myself!
Wade: 😶
Wolverine: *smirks and puts the claws away*
You were their voice of reason, their angel on their shoulder, their peace keeper and confidant and they respect you for keeping up with their shit. However it wouldn’t be much like Logan and Wade to make your life easy as you often had to stand between the two as a barrier of sorts to keep them from killing each other.
When in actuality they are flipping each other off behind your back and it wasn’t until Logan slapped wades hand away, causing him to say ‘ow’ did you look between the two of them as they acted like they weren’t acting like children a few moments ago.
You: I’m so sorry you’ll have to excuse them.
*Meanwhile Wade and Logan fighting, stabbing each other in the balls in the background*
You: WOULD YOU TWO STOP FUCKING FIGHTING FOR FIVE MINUTES!!!
Wade and Logan; *immediately stop and point at each other* he started it!
They were the reason you had grey hairs at an early age you swore this to anyone who’d listen. They were a pain in your ass, thorn in your side and a headache waiting to happen but the moment you were threatened, Wade and Logan put aside their differences and acted accordingly by standing protectively in front of you.
Logan: I would shut the fuck up if I were you bub.
Wade: oh look what you did, you made daddy angry.
Logan and you looking at Wade: 🤨😐
You: can you not make everything into a sex joke?
Wade, booping you on the nose; it comes with the territory peanut.
Logan: be serious for fucking once, they’ve just got threatened!
Wade: you don’t think I want our pookie to get hurt? (why do I think he’d say pookie unironically)
You: kill me now and end my misery. Please someone, anyone. Preferably pyro. (He’s hot, literally and figuratively)
Being stuck with Logan and wolverine is a curse and a blessing at the same time, which one you want to focus on more is up to you. However you three were incredibly loyal to each other, even if you do piss each other off from time to time, but you’d never betray one another for it wasn’t an option.
You were stuck with these two whether you liked it or not.
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elizzsush · 7 months ago
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Merfolk Courting Rituals | TWST
Octavinelle Dorm X Reader
Azul X Reader, Jade X Reader, Floyd X Reader,
---- Merfolk typically have instinctual ways they begin 'courting' or a relationship, in the deep sea you need to be sure of your partner after all. (Non-Human courting rituals part 2/3)
Savanaclaw Ver. | Diasomnia Ver.
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Floyd:
It was spring when it happened. Almost summer. The days we’re warming up and everyone was suffering a bit for it.
Usually, you would be able to go about your business alone, or perhaps with the company of Grim if he felt like it. Today however, a certain eel was towering over your shoulder. “Shrimpy~” he’d giggle, a shiver was sent down your spin at his voice.
You slowly turned around. “A-ah? Hey Floyd…” you smiled warily. You usually, like most people in school, avoided the eel like the plague. He flashed his sharp teeth at you and extended his hand, the other one in his pocket in a more relaxed manner then your posture.
“A tooth…?” You squinted at the item, it was pointy: like his own teeth.
Realistically, you didn’t really wanna hold this. Not that you’d tell him that. You glanced up at him again and saw those same teeth, not a single one out of place. “Do ya like it?~”
He leaned closer to your face, his eyes widened ever so slightly in a more intimidating manner. Clearly his lack of personal space had never changed. “Um… yes! I do…?!” You were quick to awnser back.
Pleased with himself, he giggled loudly and walked away.
What was that about?
After that he’d keep approaching you with odd gifts… at one point he presented you with the largest pearl you’ve ever laid your eyes on and then the next day he gifted you with a handful of beautiful scales.
You dreaded to think about the poor mer behind that gift…
Either way, this was suspicious, right? When Floyd leech approached you, you either run away or get squeezed, why were you getting gifts? It also didn’t help your relationship with the Housewarden of Heartslabyul, who now avoids you like the plague.
Seriously, when you walk into a room Riddle happened to be in, he jumps up and leaves immediate- sometimes even running away like you were his tormentor instead of Floyd!
You’d also noticed that Floyd would yawn more around you… You didn’t think you were boring either because he wouldn’t be around you if you were boring to begin with! “Are you getting enough sleep?”
“Eh? Shrimpy doesn’t like me?” Floyd pouted, You noticed him glance at your mouth breifly. “Shrimpy~ that’s rude.” He’d whine louder, a darker look in his eyes than usual. You had no clue if you had offended him or not that time…
Another time was this happened. It actually happened far more often than you would think or enjoy.
“Shrimpy~” he’d say repeatedly to annoy you while you walked around school. Like when a sibling kept poking at you and claiming they weren’t touching you, but he had his hands behind his head as he followed behind you a bored expression on his face. He had been hanging around you more.
Sadly that meant your friends were less likely to approach you. And if they did it was because they neglected to see the towering eel boy.
“My, My, Floyd had taken quite a liking to you.” Jade stated offhandedly one day. You were at the Mostro Lounge (Azul was tired of Floyd skipping work and offered you free meals to hang out so Floyd would get back to work.)
You glanced at the Eel with a confused look. “What do you mean?” He simply looked down at the small necklace you had made with Floyd’s… gifts of a tooth and scales. I’m your defense they made very nice jewelry. Was it a bit messed up to be wearing some students scale and possibly their tooth? Perhaps… but you were poor and wanted something nice to wear.
With the same odd mysterious smile, Jade was off to serve the next costumer.
So you took it upon yourself to figure out what that meant!
First you went asking around Octavinelle. This was a bad idea because most students avoid you like you were Floyd.
Thankfully you managed to corner one, A trembling student you was glancing behind and around you the whole while you talked to him. "So?" You finally asked, a hand on your hip.
"Uh... What? C-could you repeat the question...?" He finally looked to you.
"Whats up with Floyd!" You finally snapped a bit, with a groan and a small eyeroll you glared at the smallfry.
"A-aren't you his...?"
"What on earth does that mean..." You groaned in annoyance too yourself. You were still, very, extremely lost.
Jade:
Whatever do you mean? You started courting him first if he wasn’t mistaken.
It was a Monday afternoon during autumn you believed, when he was serving you in the Mostro Lounge while you were studying. (They had a exclusive deal that lasted only that day) It was pretty late and so, you, like a very normal human, yawned. “My, If I’m not mistaken this is hardly that time of year.” He replied slyly as he gave you your half off drink.
You just glanced at him in confusion as he bowed and excused himself, ever the polite waiter.
That was… odd.
What was stranger was, now Jade has this habit of gifting you things he found on his hikes. It started with a flower to then a mushroom and for some reason he had gifted you a rock? He said he found it “fascinating” So he gifted it to you.
You didn’t really know either…
This whole issue began to intimidate you. I mean, Jade leech, gifting you things? There had to be some kind of motive behind it! There is always a motive behind the Octa-trios advances.
So, not wanting to owe him anything, you began gifting him things in return. “I found this at the store and thought you might like it.” You’d smile warily and a bit nervously as you extended a hand, in it a Dorsel Fin candy.
He’d smile and accept your gift, you’d breath a sigh of relief and go about your day as usual. At least now you didn’t owe him anything!
Now it became a habit, or a fun little game! Whenever Jade would gift you something, you’d look for something of equal value or better! Something he’d like. You’d attempt to one up him, but it was as if he knew about your game somehow and wasn’t letting you win.
Eventually it started to become something else, he was just... always there now? You'd turn around and almost scream! Because: was he there the whole time?
The worst part? He helped you so much more than half the time you turned around, and he wasn't there, you wished he was. He was making your life harder by not being there!
Here is the thing, you can't just get someone use to having a nice, helpful helping hand who is also attractive and then just take that away! Its inhumane.
You gifted him a terrarium you made yourself.
You didn't know why you did it. Maybe you liked his company and wanted to show your appreciation, maybe it was just because you were fond of him.
It was pretty out of the blue as well. You had been working on it for a week now, it wasn't anything remotely at Jade's own level but it was nice. (It better have been because that hike to gather everything almost killed you.)
Was it worth it? Yes. Seeing his eyes widen slightly before he regained his composure was absolutely worth it. He almost had to cough into his hand in Suprise.
Jade wasn't the most expressive, but you had a few ideas of what his Suprise would be look like. "Do you like it?"
"I do perfect. Thank you."
Note: Jade will never confess. It'll be one of those relationships where you don't know how it started but now your married so... Have fun!
Azul:
He was hopeless. Everybody knew this simple fact, except of course: you.
He was a businessman, not a... romance man!
From the way he'd tug at his tie like it was choking him when you were around, to how flushed he'd get when you even glanced in his direction. This guy was absolutely hopeless.
He actually turned... A very bright red was he turning purple as well? and immediately fixes his posture when you're in the room.
Thankfully, it takes two to tango and you were interested in him as well.
So, yeah, it was up to you to pursue the shady businessman who isn't very shady around you and instead acts like, in his own words, "an idiot."
So, no... he doesn't exactly court you. You court him.
You bring him cool things you find, blabber on about what you like and what you think he would like. He was... very confused and flustered, but happy you were there.
It was only after you took an active role in the relationship that he relaxed slightly and began to play along. Giving gifts back and ranting about the business and some poor unfortunate soul he scammed helped.
As everything began to relax in your guy's relationship. It got too comfortable, well, comfortable wasn't the right word. He was comfortable, you were suffering.
Why wasn't he making a move?! Didn't he like you?
Meanwhile, he was feeling pretty good. Jade and Floyd had gotten to a place where they don't tease him as much about not being able to make a move with you. (He didn't you made all the moves.) And his crush was showering him with attention!
You'd glance at him nervously while you sat at Mostro Lounge. He was counting his contracts. His new ones he had started to reaccumulate.
You physically couldn't hold it back anymore. It had been a week. A whole week of nothing new happening between the two of you. The words fell from your lips fast, like rushing water you tried to hold back but couldn't. It would have always slipped through the cracks in your fingers anyway... So you asked him, the burning question. "I like you. Do you like me...?" You finally blurted out.
"What?" He froze up. His head whipping in your direction he didn't know what to do or say and- he was ruining this wasn't he?
Azul had always been an anxious boy, it helped him- Because despite those anxieties he'd show them. he'd overcome them! He always had. But what do you do exactly when the person your heart has been beating oddly for asked that?
"I- um..." was all you needed before you stood up and left. Trying to fight back the small burn that began in your eyes before you cried. "Wait!" He called out but you had been out the door far too soon to even remotely hear him.
It was... a whole thing. He hated it, you hated it, and despite him refusing to admit it, you both cried over it. You always did love the classic miscommunication trope. But it happened. And frankly, you' prefer it this way in the long run. Because when everything was cleared up...
You got to kiss the octopus boy!
A smile on your face when you pulled away, he stared at you slightly shocked but very happy.
In a side note, after you kissed him, he wondered around aimlessly for a good while before he broke out of whatever spell you put him under. (You're still the magicless perfect of ramshackle...)
___________
Note: Floyd is my favorite. I hope you could tell lol Do I adore Azul? Yes! Was he the last one I wrote so it was kind of rushed and not very long? Also yes... I tried to make it a bit special-er?
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lxvvie · 5 days ago
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By his estimate, Simon was supposed to have left about thirty minutes ago.
That’s what you did after you had sex and got your rocks off. You get dressed, leave with no fuss as soon as it was over, y’know, and make it a little less awkward than it already was. At least, that’s what Simon always did.
And as always, shit gets flipped on its head when it comes to you.
Thirty minutes ago, he would’ve made it home; he’d have showered, smoked, went to bed, slept like shit, and been ready for the next day. Rinse and repeat. Instead he’s here with you, naked as the day he was born, covered in your sweat and his, covered in your cum and his, and Simon would be a lying bastard if he said he wouldn’t feel a certain way if you kicked him out.
You hadn’t thus far and that’s a good thing. He thinks.
It’s you two, side by side, coming down from that high, body humming from your nighttime activities, and you’re basking in the not-so-awkward silence. He’s staring at the ceiling, you’re probably thinking… or, er, probably not, and Simon’s a little curious but not enough to want to ruin the mood. Which a lie from the pits of hell. You hadn’t moved or said a word, and it’s getting to Simon more than he lets on.
But bloody fuckin’ hell, what do you say after something like this? Thanks for the sex, sweetheart, be seein’ you or Felt good, didn’t it, luv? What about I don’t think I can leave you, let’s go another round so I won’t have to? Jesus Christ, you’re a fuckin’ mess, Riley.
Not that it matters, though, not really, because “nothing ventured, nothing gained” is Simon Riley’s motto when it comes to you and rather than say anything, he simply grabs your hand to gauge the atmosphere. It’s light, gentle, and uncertain, words he’d never use to describe himself but he gets the point across.
After a moment, he figures he miscalculated until you respond in turn, one-upping him and intertwining your fingers together and no, his heart absolutely did not skip a beat. Bloody hell. He turned, glanced down at your hands connected, looked up at you and to his surprise, you met him head on. How long had you been staring at him, sweetheart?
Not that it matters, though, not really, because your face is inching closer and while Simon is many things, ungrateful ain’t one of them, and if you think you’re just gonna leave him with a kiss on the forehead or cheek then you’re sorely mistaken, sweetheart.
But nothing ventured, nothing gained.
And now it’s Simon’s turn to one-up you this time. He meets you halfway, doesn’t give a damn what happens afterward (he does, more than you’ll ever know), and brushes his lips against yours. It’s light, gentle, and uncertain, words he’d never use to describe himself but he gets the point across. And so do you.
Nothing ventured. Nothing gained.
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bunnis-monsters · 27 days ago
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Hybrid Shelter Prologue
warning: mentions of abuse, injuries, some yandereish behavior, and violence
You’ve been working at the hybrid shelter for a few weeks now. It wasn’t an easy job, tending to injured, abused, and scared hybrids, but you did your best.
This was just a part time job until you were able to find something better. Of course you cared about the hybrids, but the money you made wasn’t enough.
You had two other part time jobs that took your time away, and although you loved working at the hybrid shelter, it was only a temporary thing.
Most days were full of games, movies marathons, the occasional check up, and lots of bonding. After all, the goal was to help these hybrids figure out what they wanted. If they wanted to be independent, be a pet, or return/live in the wild.
Today was a bad day, though.
You woke up at 3 am to a call, asking you to come into the shelter early.
“It’s an emergency,” your boss said, taking a moment to breathe before continuing. “A new hybrid came in… you’ll understand when you get here.”
And your boss was right, you understood the second you walked in.
In the corner of the lounge was a cat hybrid. He was backed against the wall, hissing and spitting as his tail puffed up.
“Stay away from me, don’t you dare get any closer!”
All the other workers were covered in scratches, glancing at one another in concern.
“His file,” your boss said from behind you, handing you a folder. “A tale as old as time. Human buys a cat hybrid from a backyard breeder, doesn’t know how to take care of him. The owner abused the poor thing then dropped him off at our door… he was scared and confused, and when we said his owner abandoned him…”
Your nods gestured to the cat hybrid, sighing. “This happened.”
You took a moment to read his file, frowning before you handed the folder back. “Alright, I’ll give it a try. Get a room ready in the infirmary, we’ll need to do a checkup and make sure his vaccinations are up to date.”
The cat hybrid’s ears pinned back as you approached, his tail lashing dangerously. “Don’t take another step closer, I’ll-“
His ears unfolded when you sat down a few feet away from him, giving the scared hybrid a kind smile. “Alright, I’ll stay right here then. Is that alright?”
Though his tail continued to sway erratically, the cat hybrid slowly lowered himself to the ground to match your stance.
“…”
He stayed quiet, eyeing you. All you did was sit there, watching his body language and slowly scooting closer.
“You don’t have to be afraid. I know it can be scary coming to a new place, but there’s other cat hybrids just like you here. They’re all happy, and I take care of them myself.”
He sniffed the air to confirm your words, picking up the scent of other hybrids on you. “… and… you don’t hit them?”
Those words tore at your heart, but you didn’t let it show. You kept a calm smile on your face as you nodded slowly. “No… there’s no hitting here. No punishments either.”
He hesitantly reached out a hand, placing it on your leg before pulling it back. Testing the waters was a good sign. “Will my owner come back?”
“Most likely not… and even if we did, we wouldn’t let them hurt you. Never again.”
With that, he slowly moved forward, leaning until his head rested on your lap, a sign of trust. You gently scratched behind his ears, a soft purr coming from him.
“There you go… that’s a good boy.”
Your boss watched this interaction from a distance, picking up his phone. “Yeah, I think she’s the one. I’ve never seen a hybrid calm down so quickly, she might have the thing we’ve been looking for.”
The rest of the day, the cat hybrid cling to your side, enduring the medical exam only if it meant he got to hold onto your arm.
Already he was scenting you, just like many of the other hybrids did. You were unaware how many had already put their “claim” on you, and how that would affect your future at the shelter.
Leaving wasn’t easy, the cat hybrid, who you named Midnight because of his dark hair, was attached to your hip. He cried and buried his face into your neck when you got ready to leave, only agreeing to let go of you with the promise you’d be back tomorrow.
“Mine… don’t want you to go…” he murmured, just quiet enough for you to not hear.
The next morning you woke up to a text message from your boss. Through your bleary vision you were barely able to make out what it said.
‘Dear (Name), you have been offered a chance to work as a full time employee. You’ll be paid $30 an hour, and you can start tomorrow. Please reply to confirm.’
Although you felt happy, something about the message felt off. Regardless, you needed the money and accepted immediately.
Soon your life would become hectic and full of mystery, but you wouldn’t find that out until later.
Now, you rolled back over and went to back to sleep until your shift began.
——————
Comment to be added to the Hybrid Shelter taglist. There may be some nsfw and yandere elements in the future! For now I’m using the nsfw taglist, but the next post I’ll be tagging those who comment.
NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @anonymouskiwi
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rizzanon · 1 month ago
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03 | EVERYTHING IS AWESOME…
m.list | prev | next
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The night was calm, as far as Gotham standards went. Dick leapt across rooftops with practiced ease, the crisp night air cooling the sweat on his brow. Patrol had been fairly routine so far—an attempted mugging here, a couple of carjackers there. But even as he flipped and fought, his mind was elsewhere.
You.
Why was it that for the past few days, he couldn’t seem to catch you for even a moment? Every time he stopped by the manor, Alfred had the same response: Miss (Name) is out at the moment, Master Richard.
Out? Out where?
He’d pressed Alfred for more details the first time, but the butler’s polite smile and vague responses left him with more questions than answers.
He ducked under a clumsy swing from a thug, twisting his attacker’s wrist and disarming him in one fluid motion. Were you avoiding him? The idea gnawed at him, even though he tried to dismiss it. Surely you wouldn’t do that. Not to him. Right?
But the signs were starting to feel undeniable. You answer his texts hours later, and even those were short and simple. Most of his calls went straight to voicemail and when you do pick up, it was to say that you couldn’t talk right now. Whenever he asked anyone in the family about you, they either gave noncommittal answers or shrugged. Even Damian had been uncharacteristically tight-lipped when Dick had broached the topic with him. That, more than anything, felt like a red flag.
Had the two of you not reconciled yet?
What did you two even argue about to get to this point? Damian wouldn’t tell him anything no matter how much he bugged him.
The thought made his chest tighten uncomfortably. Did he do something? Say something? He ran through every interaction he’d had with you in recent memory, trying to pinpoint where things might’ve gone wrong. But nothing came to mind. You’d always seemed fine, maybe a little quieter than usual, but he’d chalked that up to you being tired. Gotham took its toll on everyone eventually.
Still, the nagging doubt lingered. The idea that you might be avoiding him on purpose—it didn’t sit right. You were family. He thought he’d always made that clear (he did right?), that you could come to him about anything. So why did it feel like you were slipping away? Did he not make it clear enough? (did he even make it clear?)
Dick pushed off the railing, his footsteps echoing as he started pacing again. He didn’t like this feeling. He needed to figure out what was going on. What had changed? And why did it feel like you were determined to keep him at arm’s length?
“What’s got your panties in a twist?”
He knocked the thug out with a quick jab to the jaw and spun around to check on Jason, who was dealing with the last of the group. His voice, distorted slightly by the modulator in his helmet.
Jason, of course, was handling them with his usual… flair. A solid punch here, a sharp kick there, and the thugs were down for the count in no time. As Jason holstered his pistol, he glanced over at Dick, tilting his head slightly as though sizing him up.
Dick let out a sarcastic laugh, shaking his head. “Haha. Very funny.”
Jason lets out an audible scoff. Even though his face was obscured by his helmet, Dick could practically feel the eye roll.
“So?” Jason drawled, crossing his arms as he leaned against a lamppost. “Are you gonna speak up or what?”
Dick just sighs as he puts away his escrima sticks.
“It’s about (name).”
“What? She messed up again or something?”
Dick’s head snapped toward him, his brow furrowing. “What? No. Why would you even—”
Jason shrugged, kicking at the unconscious body of one of the thugs as if to test if he was really out cold. “I dunno. She’s always messing something up, isn’t she? And you have to clean up after her. At least, that’s the vibe I get.”
Dick’s shoulders tensed, a sharp frustration bubbling to the surface. “Jason, seriously?”
Jason raised his hands in mock surrender. “What? I’m just saying—”
“No, you’re not ‘just saying,’” Dick interrupted, his voice sharper than he intended. “This is exactly why I’m worried. You guys act like she’s just… this screw-up, like she’s some annoyance you have to deal with, and it’s not fair.”
Jason tilted his head, clearly surprised by the outburst. “Okay, hold on. Where’s this coming from?”
Dick sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He leaned against a nearby wall, staring out over the dimly lit alleyway. “(Name) quit being Batgirl.”
Jason visibly froze for a split second at Dick’s words, the tension in his stance betraying his surprise. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared. He let out a scoff, straightening up and crossing his arms. “Okay. And?”
Dick blinked at him, momentarily thrown off. “What do you mean, ‘Okay, and?’” he asked, incredulous. “(Name) quit, Jason. (Name). The girl who literally begged B and Babs to let her become Batgirl. She didn’t just want it; she fought for it. And now—”
“And now she’s finally done being a liability in a cape,” Jason interrupted, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Honestly, Grayson, shouldn’t you be happy about it?”
Dick’s breath hitched, the bluntness of the statement striking a nerve. He opened his mouth to argue, but nothing came out. He hated to admit it, but a part of him—the small, cruel voice he always tried to silence—had whispered something similar when he first heard the news.
Jason, noticing the brief flicker of hesitation on Dick’s face, took that as his cue to keep going. “I mean, come on. She’s not cut out for this life, and you know it. You’re just too polite to say it out loud. So, good for her. She’s finally realized what the rest of us already knew.”
Dick was silent, his jaw tightening as Jason’s words hung heavy in the air. He didn’t want to agree, not even a little. But the doubt had already been planted, and Jason’s callousness only made it worse.
“No,” Dick said finally, his voice firm. He shook his head, as though trying to rid himself of the thought entirely. “Don’t call her a liability, Jay. And that’s not the point. She quit, yeah, but she’s been distant ever since. When she had this huge fight with Damian—”
Jason snorted. “Probably demon spawn’s fault.”
“Don’t say that,” Dick snapped, frowning at him. “It’s no one’s fault, Jason. They probably weren’t in the right headspace and let their emotions get the better of them.”
Jason rolled his eyes. “Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
Dick ignored the jab, his focus still on you and the unanswered questions swirling in his mind. He wasn’t going to let Jason’s cynicism—or his own creeping doubts—stop him. Whatever was going on, he’d figure it out. And more importantly, he’d make sure you knew that he cared, no matter what anyone else thought.
Dick sighed, running a hand down his face. “Jay, come on.”
Jason turned to him, arms crossing defensively. “Seriously, what the hell do you want me to do, Dick?”
“I don’t know! Go talk to her or something!” Dick snapped, exasperation lacing his tone.
Jason gave him a flat, unimpressed look. “Oh, right. Like she’d talk to me of all people. Great plan, genius.”
Dick threw up his hands in frustration, his patience quickly wearing thin. “Come on. What’s your deal?”
Jason paused, the question clearly catching him off guard. “Excuse me?” His voice dropped a notch, low and warning.
But Dick didn’t care about the edge in Jason’s tone or the way his posture screamed “back off.” He was too fed up, too worried, and too frustrated to stop now. “No, seriously,” Dick pressed, stepping closer. “It’s like you don’t even care about (Name).”
Jason’s whole body tensed, his fists clenching at his sides. Dick could practically feel the anger rolling off him in waves.
“What?” Jason snapped, his voice rising. “So you want her to keep wearing a mask and fight battles she clearly can’t handle? You want her to keep throwing herself into situations where she’s gonna get herself killed? That’s what caring looks like to you?”
Dick stepped forward, his own frustration boiling over. “This isn’t about whether or not she’s wearing a mask! This is about you acting like you don’t give a damn about her!”
Jason let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Oh, so now you’re the expert on what I feel? That’s rich coming from you.”
“I thought you two were close, Jason,” Dick shot back, his voice tight with barely controlled anger. “What happened? You used to care about her. You used to look out for her!”
Jason scoffed, the sound harsh and bitter. “What happened? Life happened, Dick. I’m not the same 15-year-old boy she knew back then. And I’ll never be that guy she knew again. So don’t stand there and act like you have any right to talk about my relationship with her when I don’t see you even having half of what me and her had before.”
That struck a nerve, and Dick’s jaw tightened. “You think I don’t care about her?” he asked, his voice low and steady now, the anger simmering beneath the surface.
Jason’s helmet tilted slightly, as if he was sizing Dick up. “Oh, you care, alright. But not enough to actually see what’s in front of you. She tries too hard, she’s always second guessing herself, and honestly? It’s exhausting to watch. Whereas you’re too busy running around trying to ‘fix’ everything to even notice.”
Dick flinched, the words cutting deeper than he wanted to admit. “That’s not fair.”
“Life’s not fair,” Jason shot back, stepping closer, his voice dripping with bitterness. “But here’s the thing—you want her to keep being Batgirl because it makes you feel better. Like you’re holding this family together or something. But did you ever stop to think that maybe, just maybe, she quit because she wants to?” He gestured vaguely at their surroundings. “And instead of giving her the space to do that, you’re chasing her down like she’s some mission you need to complete.”
Jason’s words hit Dick like a slap in the face, leaving him momentarily stunned.
“I’m just trying to help her,” Dick said softly, his voice losing some of its fire.
Jason sighed, running a hand through his hair, finally removing his helmet. His face was set in a hard expression, but there was something raw in his eyes. “Yeah, well, sometimes helping means knowing when to back the hell off.”
The two of them stood in tense silence, the night air heavy with unspoken words. Finally, Jason stepped back, shaking his head. “If you want to do something for her, stop acting like you know what’s best for her. I’d rather see her alive than rotting as a damn corpse, labelled as one of the old man’s fallen soldiers.”
With that, Jason turned and walked away, leaving Dick standing there, the weight of the conversation pressing heavily on his shoulders.
The thugs were all rounded up and still unconscious, whereas Jason was out of sight. But his words lingered in Dick’s mind, playing on a loop.
I’d rather see her alive than rotting as a damn corpse.
Dick sighed, sitting on the edge of the rooftop. His escrima sticks rested loosely in his hands as he stared down at the empty streets below. Jason’s parting words had hit their mark, and he hated to admit it. The thought of you… dying—just the word alone made his stomach churn.
Jason had already died once, and Dick hadn’t been there to stop it. He hadn’t been there to save him. If the same thing happened to you, if you ended up another casualty in their endless war against Gotham’s darkness…
That’s on him.
He swallowed hard, gripping his escrima sticks tighter as guilt began to settle in his chest like a lead weight. Jason was right. It was probably a good thing you quit. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he let another one of his siblings die.
Siblings.
The word felt heavy now, laden with unspoken truths. Jason’s earlier jab suddenly clawed its way to the forefront of Dick’s mind:
Don’t stand there and act like you have any right to talk about my relationship with her when I don’t see you even having half of what me and her had before.
Did Jason really believe that? Did you?
He shook his head, trying to dismiss the thought. Of course, he cared about you. Of course, he’d been there for you. Hadn’t he?
But as much as he wanted to dismiss Jason’s words, they stuck with him, gnawing at the edges of his conscience. Slowly, memories began to surface, unbidden and relentless.
He was Robin then—young, brash, and full of anger. The grief over his parents’ deaths was still fresh, a raw wound he didn’t know how to heal. And you… you were Bruce’s kid. That was all he saw you as. He watched you grow up, become this bubbly kid, who, for some reason, looked up to him a lot.
But what did he do with that? He bailed.
He could remember it so clearly now, those moments when you’d ask him to play with you, to just talk—and he’d brush you off. “Not now, (Name),” he’d say, and ruffle your hair. The Teen Titans needed him. Gotham needed him. But you didn’t know that. Bruce wanted to keep you out of this life, and frankly, he did too. Which was why there was always some excuse to explain why he was so busy, why he couldn’t play with you for as long as you wanted him to.
He winced as another memory came rushing back: one of the many times you’d waited up for him in the living room, hoping to show him some new arts and craft you did, or one of your tests that you did really well in. He’d walked in with Wally and Donna, laughing about something from their latest mission, barely sparing you a glance.
“Wow, this is nice!” He’d say absent-mindedly, before ruffling your hair like you were some kid tagging along.
“I’ll catch you later, alright?” he’d say, and then he’d leave you alone.
And what had you done? You’d nodded, forced a smile, even as disappointment flashed across your face. He hadn’t noticed it then—not really. He’d been too caught up in his own world, too focused on proving himself to the team, to Bruce, to everyone.
Dick let out a shaky breath, the weight of those memories settling over him like a suffocating blanket. God, Jason was right.
He hadn’t been there for you the way Jason had. Jason, for all his faults, had always been someone you could count on when he first came to the family—someone who didn’t bail, who didn’t make you feel lonely.
But that was before his death. Now things were different between you two. Neither of you were willing to repair the broken bond you two once shared. Why? He wasn’t sure.
Dick rubbed a hand over his face, the ache in his chest growing sharper. “Damnit,” he muttered under his breath.
What could he even do to make this right? To show you that you mattered to him—that you’d always mattered?
But deep down, he already knew the answer. He couldn’t fix this with mere words or gestures or even the best intentions. He had to show you, prove to you, that he was here for you now. That he wasn’t going to leave you alone this time.
Even if that meant letting you go for now, giving you the space you clearly needed. Even if that meant accepting that you no longer wanted to be Batgirl, that he’d fallen short. But he was willing to do better. Even if it meant he’d had to wait.
The thought hurt, but it was better than losing you for good.
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“This is nice.”
The warm sunlight filtered through the trees at Gotham Park, casting dappled patterns across the picnic blanket. Caitlyn was leaned against you, her sketchpad balanced on her knees, pencil gliding smoothly as she doodled. Adrien sat cross-legged across from you both, stuffing another bite of a homemade pastry into his mouth with an exaggerated hum of delight.
Adrien nodded enthusiastically, agreeing with Caitlyn, as he pointed his fork at you. “You can say that again! (Name), I didn’t know you could make treats like this! They’re so good!”
Caitlyn grinned, glancing up from her sketch. “Literally! This is amazing. You’ve been holding out on us, chef.”
Your cheeks flushed, and you looked down at your hands, a little bashful at their praise. “I… honestly didn’t think I could make anything this good,” you admitted, brushing a strand of hair out of your face.
“You’re kidding, right?” Adrien said, picking up another cookie. “These are, like, professional-level good. If you ever decide to stop… uh, doing whatever it is you do after school, you could totally open a bakery or something.”
You laughed, though the comment stung just a little—only because you didn’t know you were good at making pasteries.
To fill up your now free schedule after quiting as Batgirl, you had gone to Alfred and asked him to teach you how to bake.
Alfred, helpful and patient as always, agreed without hesitation. “Baking, my dear,” he had said with a faint smile, “is both a science and an art. It requires precision, but it is also a most rewarding endeavor.”
And so, your evenings became a blend of warmth, flour-dusted counters, and Alfred’s gentle guidance. He would show you how to knead dough, measure ingredients with precision, and even share some of his most guarded recipes—ones he claimed even your father was particularly fond of.
When you weren’t in the kitchen with Alfred, you spent your afternoons at the library with Caitlyn and Adrien. Studying with them, or rather, helping them study, had become another way to fill your time.
High school material was easy enough for you—thanks to your first life. You’d already tackled algebra, chemistry, and history years ago. So instead of cramming for tests yourself, you found yourself explaining concepts to Caitlyn and Adrien, who both leaned heavily on your ability to simplify even the most convoluted topics.
“Okay, so… if x is equal to 4, then y has to be…” Adrien tapped his pencil against his notebook, staring intently at the equation in front of him
“Eight,” Caitlyn supplied confidently, but her grin faltered when Adrien and you both gave her a look.
“Try again,” you said with a soft laugh, pointing to the part of the equation she’d miscalculated.
Caitlyn groaned dramatically, flopping back into her chair. “Math is dumb.”
“Math is logical,” you corrected, though your teasing tone made Adrien snort. “You just need to stop skipping steps.”
“Why does it feel like you’re giving us the cheat sheet to life?” Adrien said, glancing up from his notes. “You make this stuff seem so easy.”
“Yeah, seriously,” Caitlyn chimed in. “Are you secretly some kind of math genius or something?”
You shrugged, trying to play it off. “I’ve just… always been good at this kind of thing.”
They didn’t need to know the full truth—that you’d already gone through high school. They didn’t know the truth about you or your family before, and you weren’t planning to change that now. They didn’t need to know about the mask you’d taken off or the life you were trying to leave behind. For now, it was enough to help them, to enjoy their company, and to let this simpler version of your life unfold.
It was strange, almost surreal, how quickly you’d settled into this new routine. But you found that you didn’t mind it. For the first time in a long time, life felt… normal. And maybe that was what you needed most.
As Caitlyn returned to her doodling and Adrien polished off another pastry, you leaned back on your hands, letting the moment sink in. It felt… peaceful. A rare pocket of calm in the chaos that had been your life lately.
The park was lively but not overwhelming, the gentle hum of laughter and chatter from other families and friends creating a soothing backdrop. The late afternoon sun warmed your skin, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt grounded.
“Hey,” Adrien said suddenly, breaking you out of your thoughts. “We should do this more often.”
Caitlyn nodded. “Agreed. This is probably the most relaxed I’ve seen you in weeks, (Name).”
You hesitated, glancing between your two friends. They weren’t wrong. But a part of you couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. You weren’t being truthful to them, yet they were still being so nice. You didn’t deserve them.
You opened your mouth to reply, ready to brush off Caitlyn’s and Adrien’s comments, when a sudden, sharp flash of green invaded your vision. It was jarring—so vivid and overwhelming that you winced, instinctively bringing a hand to your temple. For a moment, it felt like the world tilted on its axis, the vibrant sounds of the park muffled by the ringing in your ears.
And just as quickly as it came, it was gone.
You blinked, your heart racing as you tried to make sense of what had just happened. The green was seared into your memory, the edges of it glowing like embers before fading entirely. The momentary pain in your head vanished, leaving behind nothing but confusion.
“What the hell…” you muttered under your breath, still dazed.
“(Name)!” Caitlyn’s voice was sharp with concern, snapping you out of your stupor. “Are you okay? What just happened?”
Adrien leaned closer, his eyes wide with worry. “You winced. Are you alright? Did you hurt yourself?”
You glanced between the two of them, their faces etched with genuine concern. You didn’t want to worry them. You couldn’t worry them. So you forced a laugh, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s nothing, really. Just a headache. Probably didn’t drink enough water or something.”
But Caitlyn wasn’t buying it. She immediately pushed herself off you, her sketchbook forgotten as she leaned in close, her expression dead serious. “Nope. No way. If you’ve got a headache, you need to go home and rest. Sun’s probably not helping either.”
“Yeah, seriously,” Adrien chimed in, nodding emphatically. “Don’t push yourself too much. We can always continue this another time, okay?”
You tried to protest, but their stubbornness left no room for argument. Caitlyn was already packing up the picnic, her movements quick and decisive, while Adrien carefully wrapped up the leftover pastries.
“You guys are being dramatic—” you started to say, but Caitlyn cut you off with a pointed glare.
“Nope. Not hearing it. We’re not taking any chances,” she insisted, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Come on, we’ll walk you home.”
A sigh escaped your lips as you realized there was no point in fighting them on this. “Alright, alright. I’ll go.”
As the three of you made your way out of the park, Caitlyn clinging protectively to your arm, your thoughts drifted back to the green flashes. What the hell was that? It wasn’t just a headache—that much you knew.
You forced a smile as Caitlyn began chattering about her latest art project, Adrien throwing in jokes to lighten the mood. But in the back of your mind, the unsettling image of green light lingered, pulsing faintly like a warning you couldn’t ignore.
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You finally managed to convince Caitlyn and Adrien to leave you at the gates of Wayne Manor, reassuring them for what felt like the hundredth time that you’d be fine. They only relented when you promised to text them once you’re feeling better, and with a wave and one last concerned glance, they finally left. You sighed in relief and turned toward the manor, making your way inside.
When you stepped inside, that’s when you saw him—a familiar, bubbly boy practically skipping towards the manor entrance. Jon Kent. Superman’s son. Damian’s best (and only) friend.
Wow. He looked so much younger than you remembered.
The moment Jon spotted you, his face lit up. Before you could even blink, he was flying over to you, his grin wide and infectious. “(Name)!” he called cheerfully as he landed in front of you, his feet barely making a sound on the gravel path.
You blinked, startled but unable to help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “Hey, Jon.”
“How are you? Are you okay? You look okay! Wait—were you out? Where did you go? Do you need help carrying anything?!” He practically bounced on his heels as he bombarded you with questions, his usual excited energy radiating off him like sunlight.
You chuckled fondly, shaking your head as you answered. “I’m fine, Jon, really. And no, I don’t need help. I was just out with some friends.”
“Oh, okay!” he chirped, looking momentarily reassured. “I was just here hanging out with Damian, but—uh, well…” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, his cheeks turning a little pink. “I kinda didn’t tell my parents I was flying over here. So, you know, I should probably head back to Metropolis before they notice I’m gone.”
You snorted softly at that, a nostalgic warmth in your chest. “Your secret’s safe with me. I’ll pretend I didn’t see you.” You said, and winked.
Jon’s grin returned in full force, but it faltered slightly as he looked at you again. This time, his expression was hesitant, uncertain, like he was trying to figure out how to say something.
“What’s wrong?” you asked gently, tilting your head at him.
Jon shuffled his feet, his voice quieter now. “Uh… can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
He hesitated again, looking down before blurting out, “Is everything okay between you and Damian?”
You froze. The question caught you completely off guard. Your mind stalled, your smile faltering as you stared at him, wide-eyed and stunned.
Jon must’ve noticed, because he immediately panicked, waving his hands frantically as he backtracked. “Oh! You don’t have to answer! Forget I asked! It’s just—” He fumbled over his words, his cheeks turning red. “I was asking Damian about you, and he… he kinda just glared at me. And then he changed the subject! Really fast! Like, super fast. And, uh… I’ve never really seen him act like that before.”
You blinked, his words sinking in slowly. Damian… avoiding the subject of you? Now that you thought about it, you hadn’t exactly seen Damian around the manor since that argument in your room. It was like he was going out of his way to avoid you entirely. Was he?
But you couldn’t let Jon worry about that. He was just a kid, and this wasn’t his problem. So, instead of letting your own thoughts spiral, you forced a laugh and reached out to ruffle his hair gently. “Don’t worry about it, Jon. Damian and I just got into an argument, that’s all. Nothing to lose sleep over.”
Jon blinked up at you, his expression still unsure, but he nodded slowly, leaning into the comforting touch of your hand. “Okay… if you say so.”
“Really. We’ll work it out,” you reassured him, giving his hair one last affectionate pat. Somehow.
He smiled again, though it was a little smaller this time. “Alright. I just wanted to make sure. You know… you’re important to Damian too, even if he doesn’t say it.”
You paused at that, something in your chest squeezing painfully, but before you could respond, Jon glanced at the time and jolted upright. “Oh no! I really gotta go now, or I’m so dead!”
With that, he gave you a hurried wave, his boyish grin returning. “Bye, (Name)! I’ll see you soon, okay?”
You smiled softly and waved back as he floated up into the sky, watching as he zipped off toward Metropolis in a blur of red and blue. Once he was gone, you let out a slow breath, your hand falling to your side as your thoughts drifted back to Damian.
Jon’s words lingered in your mind.
You’re important to Damian too.
It doesn’t really feel that way though….
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Alfred Pennyworth, ever the watchful guardian of Wayne Manor, had always considered it his duty—not just as a butler, but as something far more profound—to care for the members of the Wayne family. For all their strength and tenacity, they were, at their core, human. Bruce and his children—each carrying burdens far heavier than any child or young adult should. And so, he noticed things. He always noticed.
Lately, what he noticed most was the way you carried yourself these past few days—lighter, freer. There was a spark in your eyes that had been absent for far too long, a small but significant ease in your posture. You looked happier. Relaxed, even. It was subtle, something anyone else might have overlooked, but not Alfred. No, he knew you. He knew what haunted you when you thought no one was looking. But now? Now you seemed… different.
Frankly, he hoped it stayed that way.
“Miss (Name), if I may,” Alfred began gently as he watched you measure flour into a bowl, a little puff of white powder escaping into the air. “You seem… at peace, lately...”
You paused, glancing up at him with a small, slightly sheepish smile. “Is it that obvious?”
“Indeed.” He gave you a soft, knowing look as he adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves. “Would it be terribly forward of me to inquire as to what—or who—has brought about this change?”
You shifted, focusing a little too hard on sifting the flour as you shrugged. “It’s my friends. Caitlyn and Adrien. They helped me realize there’s more to life than just…” You trailed off, searching for the right words.
“Than just the responsibilities placed upon your shoulders?” Alfred offered delicately.
You nodded, giving him a grateful glance. “Yeah. Something like that.”
Your friends. Alfred found himself deeply relieved to hear that you had people like Caitlyn and Adrien in your life—people who brought you happiness, people who helped lighten the weight you carried. “I see,” he said with a small smile. “It gladdens my heart to know you have such loyal companions. Though, might I suggest inviting them here, to the manor?”
You blinked, looking at him as though he’d suggested something preposterous. “Alfred…”
“Miss, it would seem only fair for me to meet the individuals who have been instrumental in helping you through your turmoil. They seem like lovely people.” His tone was kind, slight humourous even, as he mixed something in a nearby bowl.
You laughed softly, but there was a stubborn edge to it as you shook your head. “As much as I’d like for you to meet them, I don’t think that’s a good idea, Alfred. They don’t know about this family’s secrets, and I intend to keep it that way..”
Alfred raised an eyebrow, ever patient. “I’m certain Master Bruce and Master Richard can manage a polite exchange, at the very least.”
You gave him a pointed look, and Alfred sighed, though it was laced with fondness. “Very well, Miss (Name). If you insist.”
“Thanks,” you said softly, giving him a small smile.
Though Alfred was slightly disappointed at your reluctance, he respected your wishes. He always did. And if your friends made you happy—even if he wouldn’t be able to meet them—then he supposed that was enough for now.
“Now then,” Alfred said, turning back to the task at hand, “you’ll want to add the butter slowly while continuing to mix.”
You hummed as you followed his instruction, your brow furrowing in concentration. The two of you fell into an easy rhythm, the kitchen filling with the soft sounds of utensils clinking, the hum of the oven warming, and your quiet conversation.
“So, Miss Caitlyn and Mister Adrien—are they excelling in their studies with your assistance?”
“Adrien, yes,” you said, rolling your eyes good-naturedly. “Caitlyn… well, she’s trying, but math isn’t really her thing.”
“And yet you continue to help them both. How noble of you,” Alfred replied as he handed you a whisk. “And what of school itself? Are you settling in well?”
You shrugged, starting to mix the ingredients. “Eh…It’s alright. A little boring sometimes, but I guess it’s better than…”
Dying.
You stopped yourself short, quickly correcting, “better than not being in school at all.”
Alfred didn’t miss the slip, but he didn’t press. “Indeed. A dull day can be a blessing in disguise.”
You gave him a thoughtful look, lips quirking into a soft smile. “You always know what to say, Alfred.”
“I try, Miss (Name). I try.”
And as Alfred watched you work—your expression relaxed, your mind seemingly at ease—he hoped, quietly, that this simpler version of your life, this peaceful respite, would last just a little longer.
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The soft hum of the oven filled the kitchen as you pulled the last batch of treats onto the counter. The warm, golden pastries sat neatly on their tray, a small comfort in a life that had otherwise been anything but neat. Baking had become your escape—an anchor to hold onto when everything else felt like it was slipping through your fingers.
But the calm was short-lived.
Alfred’s comm buzzed quietly, and though his expression remained composed, you saw the subtle shift in his demeanor—a slight straightening of his back, the way his gaze sharpened. Something was happening.
“It seems Master Bruce and the others require my assistance,” he said, his tone steady as always.
You already knew what that meant. Gotham was in chaos again.
Alfred turned to you, his expression softening with the familiarity of his next question. “Are you sure you do not wish to assist? They could use an extra hand, Miss (Name).”
The offer hung in the air, and for a second, you hesitated. There was always a small part of you that wanted to say yes, to jump back into action and prove yourself—to prove you could help.
But then you suddenly got flashbacks of a memory that you had kept stored away. Oh right. You remembered what this attack was.
Another one of Riddler’s bombing attacks.
Riddler had been terrorizing Gotham with a string of coordinated explosions around this time, targeting key buildings across the city. Chaos had unfolded over the city as your father, along with other available vigilantes in Gotham, scrambled to contain the damage, evacuate civilians, and track down Riddler before he could set off another series of bombs.
You had been told to stay put back then. “It’s too dangerous,” Bruce had said. “We need you to sit this one out.”
But you hadn’t listened.
You’d tracked down one of Riddler’s supposed locations on your own, convinced you could help. The moment you arrived, you knew you’d made a mistake. The building had been rigged, and your sudden presence sent everything spiraling. The countdown on the bomb accelerated. The Riddler’s men panicked and scattered, slipping out before Bruce and the others could surround them.
Dick, Tim, Stephanie and Cassandra had to swoop in to clean up the mess—disarming the bomb, calming the chaos, and stopping any further destruction. They managed to save the day, to prevent any civilian casualties, but Riddler himself got away.
Bruce’s fury still echoed in your head.
“Do you have any idea what you nearly cost us tonight?”
You hadn’t been able to look him in the eye.
“They got the job done,” you’d mumbled, your voice small, but that hadn’t mattered to him.
“Because they had to clean up after you,” he’d snapped, his words sharp enough to sting. “You disobeyed a direct order, and you let Riddler slip away.”
It was one of those moments you wouldn’t forget. Not because of Bruce’s anger, but because he’d been right. You’d wanted to help, and all you’d done was make it harder for everyone else.
Back in the kitchen, you swallowed hard, snapping back to the present. Alfred was still watching you patiently, waiting for an answer.
“I’m sure,” you said finally, your voice tight but firm. You offered a small, forced smile. “They don’t need me. They can handle it themselves.”
For a moment, Alfred regarded you with that knowing look of his, like he could see through every wall you’d put up.
“Very well,” he said softly, though there was a faint note of disappointment in his voice. “If you change your mind…”
“I won’t,” you cut in quickly, your voice quieter this time.
Alfred gave a small nod, seemingly accepting your answer, though you didn’t miss the flicker of concern in his gaze as he turned toward the door.
As he left to fulfill his duties, the kitchen fell silent once more. You leaned back against the counter, staring blankly at the pastries you’d worked so hard on.
Your hands curled into fists at your sides.
“They don’t need me,” you whispered to yourself, repeating the words like a mantra.
But it didn’t feel comforting. It felt hollow.
Because, deep down, the truth still hurts you even now.
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You stood in the quiet kitchen for a moment after Alfred left, the hum of the Wayne Manor settling into the evening stillness. The smell of baked goods lingered in the air, but even that wasn’t enough to soothe the weight pressing down on you. With a tired sigh, you began packing everything away, carefully placing the treats into containers and wiping down the counters.
Once the kitchen was clean and silent, you dragged yourself upstairs to your room. It had been a long day—long week, really—and all you wanted to do was sleep. Kicking off your shoes and pulling the blankets over yourself, you let exhaustion take over. For once, you didn’t dream.
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A sharp ringing jolted you awake.
Your eyes cracked open reluctantly, the faint glow of your phone lighting up your bedside table. The clock read 4:23 AM. Groaning, you fumbled for the phone, squinting at the screen to see an incoming call—and a series of missed notifications.
22 messages from Caitlyn.
The sight alone snapped you out of your drowsiness. Your stomach twisted, the urgency of it sinking in as you swiped to pick up.
“Caitlyn?” Your voice was groggy and thick with sleep, but there was an edge of concern as you sat up in bed. “What’s going on?”
“(Name)!” Caitlyn’s voice came through the line, panicked, frantic, and scared. It hit you like a punch to the gut. “Oh my god, I—It’s Adrien….He—He’s in the hospital…!”
What?
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I think you guys should read the masterlist once more in case you missed out any key warnings…
taglist (1/2): @tricksters-maze @dusk-muse @quethekillerqueen @silverklaus @isupportorbitalbombardment @nxdxsworld @vanessa-boo @coffeeaddictxd @moonsbluekingdom @yuya-bubbly @percythebitchwitch @anonymousdisco @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @redsakura101 @what-0-life @idkwhattoputhete @secretyouthcomputer @witch-waycult @allycat4458 @dazed-lavender @eclecticfurylady @wizzerreblogs @marsmabe @daddysfangirls-dc @hoeinthehouse @beeweensblog @ilxandra @agent-nobody-knows @thethingwiththefeathers @mochiivqi @pix-stuff @narration-ator @nebulousmoon3990 @delias-stuff @froggy-voidd @jjsmeowthie @kore-of-the-underworld @nen-nyy @juthesillylesbain @vikkus-main @emilylouise123 @blueiones @horror-lover-69 @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wassupbroski55555 @reallyromealone @plsfckmedxddy @sea-glasses @203moonysello @luvly-writer @dovey-quacks2332 @love-theangel @hotdinoankles @vebbiewuzhere @animegirlfromvietnam @estreiiuh @simply-lovely78 @twismare @ssak-i @g4bbi3xx @alor-thes | ask to be added <3 (idk why i can’t tag some of y’all, must be your settings i think 😓)
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beloveds-embrace · 20 days ago
Text
(poly 141 x sick!reader)
The sound of rain pattered against the windows, soft and soothing, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the ache in your chest. The medication was doing its best, but there was only so much it could do when your body seemed determined to work against you.
You coughed softly into your sleeve, hating the weak tremor that followed. The plush comforter was tucked up to your chin, but warmth still felt just out of reach. Your parents had hired the team months ago after receiving one too many threats, and while you had initially bristled at the idea of four men shadowing your every step, you’d quickly grown accustomed to their presence.
It was hard not to.
Captain Price had a steady, grounding aura that made you feel safer just by being near him. Ghost was quieter, more intense, but he’d surprised you with unexpected softness when he thought no one was looking. Soap’s humor had carved through your anxieties more times than you could count, and Gaz- Gaz was the one who always made sure you ate, drank water, and had everything you needed before you even realized you needed it.
They made you feel protected.
But tonight, even their presence couldn’t completely chase away the unease creeping up your spine.
“Not sleeping, love?”
Price’s voice startled you, and you turned toward the door to see him leaning against the frame, arms crossed but eyes soft. He stepped inside, his boots surprisingly quiet on the polished floor, and came to kneel beside your bed.
“Sorry,” you murmured, feeling guilt curl in your chest. “Didn’t mean to keep you up.”
He huffed a quiet laugh, brushing his knuckles against your forehead to check for fever. “You know we don’t sleep unless you do.”
Before you could reply, a soft knock came at the door, and Soap poked his head in, carrying a cup of tea that was no doubt brewed exactly the way you liked it.
“You’re awake,” he said with a grin, stepping inside and offering you the mug. “Figured you might need this.”
You took it gratefully, inhaling the scent of chamomile and honey. “You don’t have to keep fussing over me,” you said, though the words lacked any real bite.
Gaz wandered in next before they could reply to you, holding the blanket you liked most. “Yeah, we do,” he countered easily. “Doctor’s orders, remember?”
Ghost was the last to arrive, silent as always, but he lingered closest to the door like a sentinel. Even with his mask that once scared you, you could see the way his eyes softened when they landed on you.
The four of them surrounded you, and despite the lingering ache in your bones, you felt safe.
You set the mug down once it was half-empty, already feeling your eyelids grow heavier. Price pulled the blanket up higher, tucking it around you like he had so many times before.
“Close your eyes.” He murmured.
“I don’t want to-”
“You’re safe,” Ghost said quietly, his voice a low rumble that you felt more than heard. “We’ll be here.”
It was hard to fight the pull of sleep when all four of them were so close, their combined presence lulling you into something warm and soft and safe. You let your eyes drift shut, your breathing slowing as the tea worked its magic.
They stayed until they were sure you were asleep.
The first noise was subtle.
Ghost’s head snapped up, and Price immediately rose from his spot beside the bed. Soap and Gaz exchanged a glance, already moving toward the door without a word.
It wasn’t the first time someone had tried to get inside. And it wouldn’t be the last.
Price leaned down, pressing a hand against your shoulder when you stirred faintly. “Stay asleep, love.” He whispered before following the others out.
The house was dark, but that didn’t slow them down. Ghost moved like a shadow, his knife already drawn as he signaled to Soap. They caught the first man before he even had the chance to react.
Gaz was quieter, slipping down the hall and cutting off the second intruder’s escape route. The scuffle was quick, brutal, and over in seconds.
Price handled the last one himself. The man barely had time to raise his weapon before Price’s fist collided with his jaw, sending him sprawling to the floor.
“Clear.” Ghost murmured, wiping his knife clean on the intruder’s jacket.
Soap crouched down, checking for identification, and then sighing when he found it. “Same group as last time.”
Price cursed under his breath, already reaching for his phone to call the cleanup team and your parents.
“They won’t make it upstairs.” Gaz said, voice steady despite the adrenaline still thrumming through his veins.
“They never will.” Ghost added, tone final.
They worked quickly, dragging the bodies out the back while Soap wiped down any lingering traces of blood. By the time they returned to your room, the house was silent again.
You woke to find the bed empty and the dim glow of the hallway light bleeding under the door.
Pushing back the covers, you slipped out of bed and padded toward the stairs. You weren’t sure what you expected to find- maybe one of them sitting at the kitchen table or keeping watch by the windows- but instead, you were met with Price coming up the steps.
“Hey,” you said softly, rubbing your eyes.
He froze for a split second before schooling his features into something softer, too fast for your mind or eyes to catch. “What are you doing out of bed, love? You need your rest.”
“Couldn’t sleep, John.” You admitted, hugging your arms around yourself. A tremor goes through you, the warmth from your bed and blankets ebbing away slowly.
Gaz appeared behind him, stepping around to stand in front of you. “You’re supposed to be resting, dovie. Come on.” He repeated, gently taking your hand and guiding you back toward the bedroom.
“Why were you all up?” you asked, glancing between them with a concerned. “It’s too late for all of you, no? I know you work in shifts but today wasn’t like that…”
Soap appeared next, a towel slung over his shoulder. “Routine check,” he said smoothly, face softening when he looked at you. “Jus’ making sure everything’s locked up. Yer so sweet, hen, but we know how ta do our jobs, dinna worry yer pretty head.”
“Again?”
“Can’t be too careful,” Price said, his hand resting lightly on your back as they guided you back to bed.
Ghost slipped back into the room last, silent as ever, though his eyes softened the moment they landed on you. He didn’t speak right away, just took a long, careful look as if reassuring himself that you were still there- still safe. Finally, he stepped closer, his voice low and steady as he said, “Back under the covers, love.”
You didn’t fight him. You never did. Not with them.
The bed was warm, the blankets heavier now as Gaz tugged them up higher, making sure you were fully tucked in. Soap lingered by the nightstand, placing the freshly cleaned mug of tea from earlier far away enough even if you moved in your sleep, it wouldn’t fall off.
“Try again,” Price murmured, lowering himself to sit beside you. His calloused fingers brushed your hair back, slow and gentle, lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”
You blinked up at him, tired but trusting. You still didn’t know when exactly it had happened- when you’d stopped flinching at the closeness, stopped second-guessing the comfort they so freely gave. But you’d never regretted letting them in.
Not when it felt like this.
“We’re right here.” Price added, his voice a quiet promise, and you felt the words settle deep, anchoring you.
Soap crouched at the side of the bed, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off of him. “Sweet dreams, bonnie.” He said with a grin, though his voice was soft enough to soothe the lingering tension in your chest.
Gaz gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, his thumb brushing lightly over the blanket. “We’ve got you.”
Ghost stayed by the door, his sharp gaze fixed on the windows before flickering back to you. He didn’t move until your breathing evened out, waiting for the rise and fall of your chest to settle into something steady. Only then did he step out, closing the door with deliberate care.
But even once the door was shut, he lingered in the hall, his fingers resting on the handle as if to reassure himself that he could open it in an instant if you needed him. He waited, just to be sure, before finally moving away.
“She’s sleeping,” he murmured once he joined the others downstairs. His voice was quieter than usual. “Checked her breathing- still steady.”
“She needs rest,” Gaz said, though the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease. “Nights like these don’t help.”
“They won’t happen again.” Ghost said, firm and low
Soap exhaled sharply, rubbing at his jaw with the rag he’d been using to wipe his hands clean. “She disnnae need ta know.” he murmured, the words heavier than the rest.
“No,” Ghost agreed, his voice low but certain. “All she should have to worry about is resting.”
Gaz leaned against the wall, his arms crossed but his eyes lingering on the stairs. “She’s safe,” softly, he spoke. “That’s all that matters.”
And they all nodded in quiet agreement.
Ghost checked the locks one last time, Price double-checked the security feeds, and Soap peered through the curtains before returning to his spot near the stairwell. Gaz made another sweep of the house, moving silently through the dark before settling in by the living room window.
The rain picked up outside, heavier now, but inside the house, the warmth lingered. It was safe. Quiet. What you needed, and what your parents had hired them to ensure for you.
And upstairs, you slept soundly- soft breaths filling the room, wrapped in blankets that smelled faintly of fresh laundry and tea, surrounded by the presence of men who would tear apart anyone who dared to disturb you.
Sheltered in their arms, you never even stirred.
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