#can we appreciate her legs though

[repulsiveliquidation]

got nominated to be inducted into an athletic and academic honor society and my girl blesses the timeline with these. have a great day everyone!

[moeblob]

Anyway they can change between being tiny and human sized. And when they're tinier they can only be seen by the other fae or their selected humans. So if you just passed Noll on the street while Shavuli was perched on his shoulder chatting away you wouldn't see or hear her.

[notquitecanon]

Keep talking // Simon “Ghost” Riley x reader

Summary: Simon really likes your new sundress AND wants to hear about your day. These things can coexist

Tags: established relationship, pretty domestic, yapper wife x silent husband, sunshine x grumpy kinda??? Whatever tropes the kids are saying these days suggestive but not NSFT, dumbification if you really squint, husband Simon Riley, pg-13 at worst

—

Simon was staring at you. Intensely. Him staring wasn’t exactly a new thing, he was a silent creature by nature. He watched, he listened. Especially to you. He loved listening to you.

You’d barely noticed his intense gaze as you flitted about the kitchen of your shared home, putting away the things you’d bought while you’d been out, all the while chittering on about your day, the people you talked to, the things you’d seen, things you’d bought, things you’d almost bought, things you didn’t buy, what you had for lunch, what you were thinking for dinner… And Simon listened like always, absorbing your presence like a plant absorbs sunlight.

Anyone else would have been cowed under the weight of his stare, but not you. Not only were you used to it, you loved having his attention. Every now and then you’d offer him a sweet smile when you looked to him or press a kiss to his cheek or jaw or wherever you could reach easiest as you’d squeeze past where he was leaning against the kitchen counter, absolutely dwarfing the appliances. His face gave away nothing, it never did so you kept talking- yapping, you’d call it jokingly.

“Anyways, that’s when I told her-“

“New dress, love?”

His interruption cut you off. You set down the purse you were unpacking and looked to him as you trailed off.

“Hm?”

Simon kicked off the counter, closing the short distance. It was then you noticed that his eyes weren’t on your face or eyes or even lips, but instead tracing the line of the strap laying on your shoulder.

“‘aven’t seen that one. Is it new?” His eyes roamed to the skirt where his fingers had caught a sliver of the bow in the back, “Soft.”

You cleared your throat as you turned around to face him, “I got it a few weeks ago, since it’s getting hotter, sun dress season and all, but it might be a little much for running around town…guess you haven’t seen it though-“

You cut yourself off again when you felt the tension in the tied back slack. The snapped your eyes to Simon, realizing he hadn’t dropped the bow’s string as you turned.

“I’d remember this one, lovie.” He was still gazing at the hem line appreciatively, where the delicate pattern you loved so much revealed your thighs.

“Well, then it’s new to you.” Your voice was quieter now that you’d realized the specific intensity in his gaze. Simon grunted in response, his large calloused hands resting at your hips. You could feel the roughness and warmth through the thin summer fabric.

“You were saying?” He reminded you with a slight smirk, knowing he’d derailed your train of thought. Cheeky bastard.

“Oh, uh,” You started again, preoccupied with the little circles he was rubbing on your hips, “I told her that, well, that-“

Simon nodded along to your barely coherent dialogue, as if he was listening to a TED talk. Heat was rising up your chest and neck as the solider kept getting closer until your chests were basically flush and your legs were interlocked, your chatting was only slightly better than babbling but you continued choking through your story. Even when he’d slowly moved you backwards so that you were the one pressed against the counter. You hadn’t realized you stopped once again until his brows raised, “that all?”

“Si-“ You all but whined, sharply gasping when he suddenly and effortlessly lifted you unto the kitchen counter, the stone counter chilling the backs of your thighs. Even sat on the tall counters, you still only came up to his broad chest, “We have your friends coming later-“

“And I cleaned up the yard just like you asked, love. Wearing this dress tonight?” Simon questioned gruffly, brushing a kiss first across the top of your head and then leaning down to dust a trail of kisses down your neck.

“What? Probably- but” you stuttered, the heat of his breath making it hard to track the different tracks of conversation.

“Good, does this come in any other colors?” His questions almost fell on deaf ears as he brushed the straps off your shoulders so he could continue his path down your chest. The hands on your hips had traveled first to your knees and were slowly hiking the hemline of your dress up. He paused when you didn’t answer, cutting those sharp eyes up to yours, squeezing your thigh to get your focus back on him and not just his hands. You hummed in confusion, “colors, love?”

“Oh, uh, a couple I think,” you nodded as the squeeze to your thigh turned to a kneading moving further up, “I wanted to try one, but it was hard to decide-“

Simon was sinking to his knees in front of you, never breaking eye contact, “Keep talking, love. I’m listening.”

Simon was a hard man to say no to, so you kept talking. Jumping from thought to thought as they became fewer and farther between, a hand in his hair to ground yourself as he’d offer questions from between your legs until you could no longer say anything but his name.

___

I wrote this in 20 minutes on an airplane. It’s not proofread nor is it really in character. First time writing for COD but hopefully not the last… we shall see where the hyperfixation takes me

[misswynters]

Steel and sunshine

sevika x ditz! reader / short drabble

no warnings just you being annoying and sevika putting up with you

requested by @gravegoer <3

Zauns sprawling streets were filled with the hum of industry, the hiss of steam, and the faint green glow of shimmer pouring from narrow alleyways. The air hung heavy with a metallic tang, and the rattle of machinery from the Undercity’s workshops created a chaotic symphony. It was chaotic, grimy, and dangerous. A place that seemed to churn out desperation as naturally as it did smog. In the heart of it all, Sevika sat at her usual corner of The Last Drop, nursing a glass of something strong enough to peel paint.

Her steel arm rested on the table, catching the flicker of neon lights overhead. She was a picture of quiet intensity: sharp eyes scanning the bar, her jaw set in irritation at the chaos around her. She could handle a fight breaking out or someone trying to swindle her. What she couldn’t handle, though, was the sound of your voice cutting through the din like sunshine piercing a storm cloud. “Sevika!”

She groaned quietly, closing her eyes for a moment as she prepared herself for the whirlwind that was you. When she opened them, there you were, skipping toward her with all the oblivious cheer of someone who didn’t belong in a place like this. “What now?” she muttered, her tone already laced with exasperation.

You plopped down into the chair across from her, beaming as if you hadn’t just walked through Zaun’s most dangerous streets without a care in the world. “You’ll never guess what I found today!”

“Let me guess,” Sevika said, her voice flat. “Something useless?”

You gasped, clutching your chest like she’d just shot you. “How dare you? It’s not useless!” You rummaged through your bag, your fingers brushing past who-knows-what before triumphantly pulling out a small, rusted music box. Its paint was chipped, and the mechanism looked like it hadn’t worked in years. “Look! Isn’t it cute?”

Sevika raised an eyebrow, her patience already teetering on the edge. “You’re risking your life out there for this?”

“Of course!” you said, completely unfazed. “I thought you’d like it.”

“I don’t like junk,” she said flatly, though her gaze lingered on the object longer than she’d admit.

You leaned forward, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’re lying. I can tell you secretly think it’s cool.”

Sevika groaned, her metal fingers tapping against the table in frustration. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Keep me around forever?” you said with a grin, propping your chin on your hand.

“You’re exhausting,” she muttered, though the corners of her mouth twitched upward in a reluctant smile.

Not long after, Sevika found herself walking alongside you through the crowded streets of Zaun, her broad frame serving as a shield against the jostling crowd. She wasn’t sure how she’d ended up in this situation again, but you had a way of dragging her along. Your sheer persistence overpowering her better judgment.

“Did you eat today?” she asked abruptly, her sharp tone betraying the faintest hint of concern.

“Oh! I had some bread earlier,” you said brightly. “And maybe a candy bar?”

Sevika stopped dead in her tracks, her glare making you shrink slightly. “That’s not food. Come on.”

You blinked, confused. “Where are we going?”

“To get you something real before you pass out,” she grumbled, taking your arm and steering you toward a food stall. The smell of sizzling dumplings filled the air as Sevika ordered for you, her tone curt but efficient. She handed the vendor a few coins before shoving the steaming plate into your hands.

“Sit,” she ordered, pointing to a nearby bench.

You obeyed, settling onto the seat and swinging your legs like a child as you dug in. The first bite was heavenly, and you made a small noise of appreciation that made Sevika smirk despite herself.

“You’re amazing, Sev,” you said between mouthfuls, your words slightly muffled.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” she scolded, sitting beside you.

You swallowed quickly, flashing her a wide grin. “Sorry. You’re just so good at taking care of me.”

“Someone has to,” she muttered, shaking her head.

“You’re like a big, grumpy teddy bear,” you teased, nudging her side.

She gave you a flat look. “A teddy bear?”

“Yeah! You act all tough, but deep down, you’re just a big softie.”

“Keep talking like that, and I’ll leave you here,” she warned, though the faintest trace of amusement lingered in her voice.

Later, back at Sevika’s apartment, the quiet hum of Zaun’s nightlife served as background noise. The space was sparse and functional, just like her. But tucked into corners and sitting on shelves were small reminders of your influence. There was a cracked vase you’d insisted on saving, a tiny ceramic dog you swore looked just like her, and now the rusted music box, which you’d proudly placed on the shelf next to the others.

“Look at it,” you said, stepping back to admire your handiwork. “It’s perfect.”

“It’s junk,” Sevika replied, though her tone lacked the usual bite.

“Sentimental junk,” you corrected, turning to grin at her.

She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “You’re lucky I put up with you.”

“You’re lucky I’m so charming,” you shot back, sticking out your tongue.

Sevika shook her head, unable to keep the smirk off her face. “Ridiculous.”

You plopped onto her worn-out couch, kicking off your shoes and making yourself comfortable. “So, what do we do now?”

“I work. You stay out of the way,” she said, already moving toward her workbench.

“Boring,” you replied, flipping through a magazine you’d found on the coffee table. The two of you fell into a companionable silence, Sevika tinkering with her mechanical arm while you lazily read. But after a while, your thoughts drifted, and the question that had been nagging at you all day finally slipped out.

“Sevika?” You said softly as your eyes still on the maganize that you were reading.

“What?” she replied as she continued to tinker her metal arm, completely immersed in what she was doing. “Do you think I’m annoying?”

The question caught her off guard, and she turned to look at you. Putting the tool that was on her hand on the desk. “Where the hell is this coming from?”

You shrugged, suddenly finding the magazine very interesting. “I dunno. I just… sometimes I feel like I get on your nerves.”

Sevika sighed, setting down her tools and walking over to sit beside you. “You do,” she said bluntly, making you gape at her. Before you could protest, she added, “But I don’t mind.”

“Really?” you asked, your voice small.

“Really,” she said, her tone softer now. “You keep things… interesting.”

A slow smile spread across your face. “You’re such a softie.”

“Don’t push it,” she warned, though there was no malice in her words.

You leaned your head against her shoulder, letting the cool metal of her arm press against your cheek. “Thanks, Sev.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, reaching up to ruffle your hair. “Just don’t get used to it.”

But you both knew it was already too late.

banner: @anitalenia

taglist: @cewl-casper @hutaotown @lunatakashi18 @shinyshayminflower @pipirka827363829 @dragonfly41777 @themostlesbianever @abbyssgf @kissyslut @ayedomino0 @amenazaaaa @usedmilkdud @diffusebread @xxblairslairxx @marinayadayada @chx-rrryc0la @komoriiis @beewwebb @pitstopsapphic @kylorey25 @cestlaprincesa @xxblairslairxx @m00nd0v3 @arevik2345 @thesevi0lentdelights

[moonstruckme]

A Winter Wonderland

summary: you marvel at the beauty of your Christmas tree, and your boyfriends marvel at you

poly!marauders x whimsical!reader ♡ 911 words

You could fall asleep here, you think. It’s very lulling, the sound of the fireplace crackling a few feet away, the scent of pine needles, and the view of a forest unlike any other stretching out in front of you. Lights of blue and green and red filter through the thicket, and poking through you can see the edge of a handmade paper star, the fuzzy end of a dog’s tail. Your Christmas tree from below. 

“What are you doing?” Sirius has the half amused tone of when he feels like he’s caught you at something odd and he hasn’t decided whether to rag you or to join you yet. 

“Admiring our decorating,” you reply. “We did a good job.” 

“You’re supposed to look at it from in front of the tree, sweetness.” 

“It looks nice from there, too,” you allow, “but nobody ever appreciates it from down here.” 

There’s a new set of footsteps, a big hand on your knee. “Are the branches not scraping you?” James asks curiously. 

“Only sometimes.” 

You hear a smile in his voice. “It’s worth it, though, eh?”

You hum in affirmation. 

“Well, this I’ve gotta see.” 

James is bigger than you are. You lift the branches for him as he shoots his top half in beside you, but when you let go they come to rest on his chest. He grins at you before looking at anything else. A classic James Potter smile, heartfelt and breathtakingly handsome.

“Hi, angel.” 

“Hi.” You reach for his glasses, carefully readjusting them on his nose. 

“It smells nice in here.” 

“It does,” you agree, pleased to be sharing it. You turn your face upward again. James follows suit. “It looks like another world.” 

“It is very pretty,” he says. Multicolored lights spiraling upward, the odd ornament sticking in through the branches, the tree itself lush and fantastical in dark green. “You’re right, we did a good job decorating.” 

“Don’t you sort of want to live here?” you ask on a sigh.

“You mean here in our sitting room?”

“No, here in the forest.” 

“Ah.” James gives this some thought. “It is nice, but I quite like my life the way it is.” 

You turn to look at him, and he’s already looking at you, glasses reflecting a rainbow of lights and brown eyes warmer than warm behind them. Your insides go soupy. 

“I like it, too,” you say softly. “I wouldn’t want to go if you all couldn’t come with me. Maybe we could move our place there. Or just visit sometimes, like camping.” 

James smiles at you. A dimple appears in his left cheek. “You mean on weekends?”

“Sure.” 

“I’m sure we could make that happen, lovely.” 

“Oi.” Sirius gives your knee a little shake. By the way James looks down, you guess your boyfriend’s doing the same to him. “What are you two whispering about down there?”

“He’s jealous.” James drops his voice into a deeper whisper, louder yet somehow less intelligible, solely to provoke Sirius. “He knows this view is better than in front of the tree.” 

“I don’t know,” you say, smiling at his antics. “I think he’s just worried we’re discussing his Christmas gifts.” 

Another shake to your knee, more insistent this time. “What is going on down there?” 

“Nothing,” James sing-songs. 

“Who’s left a pot of soup on the stove?” asks Remus, voice becoming clearer as he comes into the room.

“Oh, that was me,” you say. “It’s just simmering, don’t worry.” 

“It’s…what the fuck…” 

“I know,” Sirius says emphatically. 

“Dovey, why are you and James’ legs sticking out from under the tree like the Wicked Witch of the East?”

“Why do you assume it was her idea?” asks Sirius, at the same time as James asks, “Who’s the Wicked Witch of the East?” 

“I’m admiring our tree,” you tell Remus placidly.

“It does look really cool from down here,” James advocates for you. “Gives a new perspective on the decorating.” 

Remus makes an amused humming sound. “That’s really nice, but your soup’s nearly boiling over, sweetheart.” 

“Oh, no.” You start to wiggle out from underneath the tree. Sirius’ hands wrap around your ankles, giving you a helpful tug the rest of the way. You grin up at him. “Sorry,” you say to Remus, “I must have set the stove too high.” 

He smiles, reaching for you. “That’s okay.” He takes the ends of your hair between his fingers. “How’d you manage to get your hair wet?” 

“Hm?” You look. “Oh, it must have been in the tree’s water. I didn’t notice.” 

“There’ll be pine needles in it, too, then,” Sirius laughs. 

Remus shakes his head, but he’s looking at you like you’re one of his favorite things in the world. One of his favorite three things, for sure. 

“How about,” he suggests, “I go turn down the heat on your soup, and Sirius helps you get all the tree bits out of your hair?”

“That’s nice of you.” You push up on your toes, kissing Remus’ cheek. “Thanks.” 

Remus presses one to your lips in return, and Sirius takes your hand, leading you to the bathroom. 

“Did you dunk your hair in the water, too, Prongsie?” he asks when James follows. 

“I don’t think so,” says James. “I just want to see if her hair smells like Christmas tree.” 

Sirius hums. You giggle when he makes a show of bringing your hair to his nose, sniffing curiously. “It does, actually.”

[meowzfordayz]

hashira accidentally touch your chest

Author’s Note: pls and ty enjoy this tidbit of crack-fluff. 😆💖

hashira accidentally touch your chest

Hashira x Reader

Word Count: ~1,600

CW: explicit language, Fem!Reader, mild sexual content

Suggestion Fulfilled: Can we get all hashira accidently touch y/n's breast

~faqs~

Fyi, “chest” means boob. I was just worried Tumblr would block this post from tags if I included “boob” in the title lmao. 😉

Shocked 😳😖

“I apologize, [y/n]-san, it won’t happen again!”

Gyomei’s nearly in tears, he feels so terribly 😞

“These things happen!” you promptly assure him, “Besides, you technically won the bout.”

No need to mention that he always wins when training together 🥲

“I cannot accept such a tainted victory.”

“Himejima-san, though I appreciate your concern and respect, there’s truly no issue.”

Meanwhile, Gyomei’s rethinking his entire Breathing Style to ensure he never accidentally touches anyone’s boob(s) again 💀 

In cold disbelief 😐😐😐

If you don’t say anything, then he won’t say anything

Alternatively, if you do say something, then Obanai will immediately curl up into a ball and die

Spends the rest of his day recalling the fleeting warmth of your breast

He swears his hand doesn’t even get cold, so affected by the heat of your bosom

Your boob must be ✨magical✨

“Iguro-san,” you call out gently, noting his dazed stare, his dinner untouched while he sits crossed legged, “Is something on your mind?”

“No.” 😐😐😐

Well okay then 🙃

“About what happened earlier…”

🫨🫨🫨 <— Obanai is FREAKING OUT

“… Iguro-san, I didn’t mind.”

And then you stand up, take your dishes, and leave

WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT EVEN MEEEAAAN?!?!?!

Good luck finding Obanai tomorrow 🫡 (the poor man’s been pleasantly overwhelmed)

He’ll avoid you for eternity now 😌 (not really, but at least until he can breathe around you again)

She giggles 🤭

Lol

“Oh my! [y/n]-san, I didn’t mean to touch you so intimately!” 😅

“No worries, it happens.”

Your face may or may not be burning up a storm, but that’s okay!

Mitsuri’s blushing too

A lot 😳

“I hope I didn’t hurt you?!”

Because like, What if I gripped too hard?! ���

She’s well aware of her own strength

“You barely brushed me, Kanroji-san. I promise!”

Phew!

She grins, relief evident as she bumps her elbow against yours

“Don’t tell anyone, okay? I would be so embarrassed!!!”

“Kanroji-san, our secret is safe with me.”

I wish it would happen again… <— lowkey both of you thinking the same thing 🤪

As a medical personnel (among other roles), Shinobu accidentally (or even on purpose, depending on where you’re wounded) touching your boob isn’t entirely unreasonable nor unrealistic

Obviously it would be nicer if she was caressing you out of love and affection 😔

And not methodically cleansing then bandaging claw marks that just so happened to cross over your chest 😒

“You should make a full recovery,” she’s all business, “The demon avoided your nipple and didn’t puncture deep enough to affect the functionality of your breast,” fortunately, you’re too exhausted to be embarrassed by her bluntness, “It has a nice shape. I’m glad you survived.”

EXCUSE ME WHAT?!?!?! 😃🫠

Now you’re kinda embarrassed

More so preening, really 🤭

It’s like when a doctor randomly compliments the rhythm of your heart or some other characteristic from a mainly professional POV, but you’re still caught off guard because who tf compliments someone’s kidneys or bowels movements or?????

In your pain hazed delusion, you briefly contemplate somehow getting your other boob injured too… gotta make sure you’re matching in (nice) shape, y’know? 😌

Kyojuro can be discreet, albeit more so for your sake than his

“I APOLOGIZE! I DID NOT MEAN TO TOUCH YOUR BREAST!” <— how he could react 💀

“Pardon my slip, are you okay?” <— how he actually reacts, because he isn’t entirely lacking in social awareness and decorum 😆

“Oh,” you don’t mean to squeak, but it can’t be helped when the most handsome man you’ve ever known just casually grazed your boob, “I’m fine! Totally fine! Haha!” 🫨😵‍💫🫠

You’ve gotta be more convincing than that, or Kyojuro will never forgive himself 😕

He’s a lil oblivious when it comes to physical attraction

Not like, infantly so, but given this particular circumstance?

He doesn’t realize you’re flustered; he assumes you’re mortified 😖

“You sound decidedly less than fine.”

He’s softer now, worried about startling you 🥺

“I was surprised! But don’t worry! I’m not worried!”

Okaaay, but he’s worried 🥲

“Is there any way I could make amends for my indiscretion?”

Not only is he handsome, but he is such a gentleman 😭😍

“Rengoku-san, there are no amends to be made, I promise. I’m not mad, nor do I feel unhappy or unsafe. I forgive you.”

Your regaining of the ability to speak in complete sentences greatly reassures him 😮‍💨😁

“Ah. Well. I am grateful for your kindness and understanding. It will not happen again.”

…

…

Hold up 🧐

Why does she seem… she seems… disappointed? Should I have said it will happen again??

You’ve suddenly given Kyojuro something quite pleasant to ponder 🤔

After all, he isn’t entirely oblivious 😉

“Are you going to apologize?” Sanemi demands

“For what?” you screech

“For touching my hand with your boob!”

Your eyes roll, “Oh fuck off!”

“I didn’t ask to touch you,” he grunts

“I wouldn’t have given you permission anyway,” you retort 😒

Arms crossing over his bare chest, Sanemi scoffs, “Well I didn’t give mine either!”

“You’re ridiculous. It was an accident.”

You seem genuinely pissed 😬

Sanemi rethinks his approach

“You know I’m joking, right?” 😅

“Nooo,” your sarcasm cuts deep, “I thought you were flirting.” 😐

Uh 😀

Well 😃

Shit 😄

“Fuck you!” 

When in doubt, curse ‘em out 💀

You scowl, confusion lingering as your blood boils, “Fuck you!”

“I said it first.” 🙄

You stalk away, fed up with his antics

#man child #sort of #romantically inept is more like it

As tends to happen with epiphanies, yours doesn’t hit until you’re almost asleep

“WAS THAT MOTHERFUCKER FLIRTING WITH ME???!” 😳🥴😭

Best believe Shinazugawa Sanemi is about to have a Lesson 101 in flirting asap 😤😎

(assuming you’re older, like, mentor age to Muichiro)

Neither of you make a fuss about it

It’s like accidentally calling your teacher mom 😬

Or grabbing a random person’s hand in the supermarket thinking they’re your parent 🫣

Embarrassing, but not a huge deal — unless you make it one

There’re those three seconds of slow motion Uhh and What just happened and Oops 🫠

And then time speeds up to normal again, you have a quick conversation with your eyes (gosh forbid you speak and bring the unspoken into reality 💀), and it’s over

^^ Alternatively, if Muichiro initiates a conversation to clear the air, then you’re able to have a mature and concise chat that is respectfully and patiently resolved

Embarrassing/accidental encounters are part of growing up

As long as they can be navigated ~safely, there shouldn’t be any lasting harm

⚠️I also want to emphasize that I am talking solely on inarguably accidental/one time incidences⚠️

Hehehe

Giyuu’s hand is stuck 🫣

Only for like, a fleeting second

But omg 😭

He was already embarrassed, and now he’s triply embarrassed 🫠🫠🫠

“... Tomioka-san?”

You won’t lie; you aren’t especially bothered 🤭

But it is a compromising position to be caught in; Giyuu lowkey crushing you, one of his palms clearly cupping your boob 😬

#wrestling #or something #so maybe this isn’t super realistic #forgive me

You’re about to repeat his name when he finally springs to life, immediately rolling off you, standing abruptly, about to literally sprint away

And then he remembers his manners 🙃

He offers you a hand

His other hand; his boob hand is currently tucked away in his haori

He’s never washing it again

#closet perv

“Thanks,” you smile faintly, accepting his assistance as you lift yourself from the ground

You hope he can’t hear your heartbeat 💓

He definitely can 😶

But can you hear his?

“I don’t think we should train together anymore.”

Giyuu is swift and harsh with his solutions

“Why?”

Your question comes out stiffer than intended

He hesitates, unable to interpret the fear in your tone — the longing

“I always beat you,” he explains lamely, “Don’t you get tired of losing?”

You scoff cheerfully, grinning now as you squeeze his hand

Fuck, we were still holding hands?! <— Giyuu is in shambles 😳

“I could never lose!” you declare, feelings brimming in your throat, spilling onto your tongue, “Not when I’m with you.”

Then we should absolutely stop training together would be the responsible reaction

Attachments are the most dangerous game for a Hashira to play 😕

Instead, Giyuu’s rendered speechless, unable to shake his hand from yours

“Well alright then,” he mutters, stomach churning as he narrowly avoids the warmth in your gaze

In fact, you swear he squeezes back 💓

“EXCUSE ME! I HAVE A WIFE!” 😤😤😤

“You have three wives.” 🙄

Sputtering, Tengen shrieks, “I already have plenty of breasts to touch!” 

“Tengen,” you glare, not one to back down as you jab a finger into his own chest, “You touched my boob.” 😒

“AND I’M SORRY!” 😭

Much better 😌

“I don’t know what they see in you,” you scoff (you’re also lying, you can see plenty🤭), “They’re gorgeous… and you freak out when you accidentally touch a boob.” 💀

Tengen is 100% pouting now

“I don’t freak out when I touch their boobs,” he huffs

“Well aren’t they lucky.” 😐

“You could be lucky too!”

…

…

Tengen starts running 

You give chase

“DID YOU TALK TO THEM ABOUT THIS?” 

Tengen runs faster

“TENGEN!!!!!”

Tengen runs faster and faster

You give up

*insert gasping for air here*

“DO YOUR WIVES KNOW THEY’RE MARRIED TO A COWARD???!!!”

Oh well, you’ll have to visit their estate sometime this week 🙃

You’re sure to get an answer from Hina, Makio, and Suma ☺️

And you can’t wait to see more of Tengen 😏😋

Sorry, sometimes the horny just happens 🥴

[mocchii-writes]

hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

can you do a thanos fic where the reader is like weak and shy, and nam gyu thinks they're manipulating her by keeping her close, but thanos just actually really likes her

(inspired by thanos calling min su cute in that one scen)

If You Hold Me Without Hurting Me, You'll be the First Who Ever Did

Paring: Choi Su-bong (Thanos) x fem!reader

Summary: Nam-gyu is under the impression Thanos is using you, but he doesn't realize Thanos is just head over heels for you.

Words: 1k

Warnings: Reader gets anxiety, normal squid game stuff, not proof-read ♡

A/n: This is such a cute idea, rahh!!

~🍡🍡

You were obviously scared. As any normal person should be! It was an unfamiliar setting with unfamiliar people. You're not a fan of unfamiliarity, so you kept to yourself. You were never one for socializing, and certainly not here, but it kind of bugged you that people thought they could walk all over you for it. Not that you would really do anything about it, nor did you want to.

But your luck seems to run dry when you're approached by someone. Someone you can only say has made quite the reputation for himself.

"Senorita, excuse me." He says. You almost don't think he's talking to you, but you turn around to see him looking right at you. You're immediately caught off guard because you've never really gotten a good look at him until now.

Thanos was actually quite attractive by your standards, so you take a moment to look at him before responding. He has pretty eyes, with dilated pupils. His hair is unique, but you can't say the purple doesn't suit him. His facial features just have harmony, y'know? Like he was sculpted by a silent artist and shared with the world.

You snap yourself back to reality after losing your train of thought for a moment. You hope he hadn't noticed your actions, but he had.

"Yeah?" You respond, almost quiet enough that he would have to lean in, but you're glad he doesn't.

"We have 4 people, care to join us?" He says, flashing a smile. You look around, almost hoping someone would swoop in and send you to outer space, but you eventually nod. His friend seems a little upset about it, but he doesn't say anything. "Great, we could use a pretty face." He says, loosely throwing an arm over your shoulder, leading the way. You don't argue.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Though it was a stressful game, your team somehow made it through pretty easily. You had collected in a corner, talking about the next vote. Well, you weren't really talking, but you were listening. Nam-gyu didn't seem to like you. That was easy to notice. He told you to go around and count the remaining players, but you were quickly defended by Thanos.

"Cut it out, man. She's just sitting here, she didn't do anything wrong." He says it in a pretty funny voice, probably trying to sound cool, but you really appreciate the help anyway. You don't say anything, but you look at him and flash a small smile. He surprisingly smiles back, his features softening a bit before he moves on.

Then, a familiar buzzing is heard, and a few guards come into the room and set up the voting system. Your group had agreed to vote to stay, but you suddenly felt kind of anxious about it. You shouldn't be here, and you know it. Before you can think about it too long, though, everyone slowly shuffles out of their hiding spots, collecting at the back of the room and waiting for their numbers to be called.

Nam-gyu and Thanos both place their predicted votes, and before you know it, you hear your number.

You freeze, but feel your legs moving ahead of your thoughts. You begin to panic. You can't stay here, you know you can't. You'll die in the next game if X doesn't win, though. You'd be giving up your protection, and you know it.

You knew Thanos just saw you as a vote. You can't deny it almost hurt, but you wouldn't expect any less from him. But you also can't deny the way your stomach flipped when he playfully touched your shoulders or how your brain malfunctioned when he held your gaze a little longer than usual. You wanted him to like you, but you pushed it down. It hurt, but your heart could recover pretty quickly with just the sound of his voice.

You glance to your right, only met by the face of Nam-gyu, signaling his false confidence in you with some gesture, but you look back to the buttons, lighting your hands and face with the soft hue of light from each one. You look up to the numbers above your head and feel yourself push a button. You panic, looking down from the numbers to see the red light coating your face. Without a new patch, you quietly walk to the side of X, your mind running faster and faster as you dread the results, but they eventually come.

You lost.

You exhale, but not with relief. You can see Nam-gyu walking to you, but you look at your hands in shame. You feel a hand on your arm as you tense, biting your lip. You knew they would be mad, and you knew you did this to yourself.

"It's okay." You hear. But not from Nam-gyu. His voice is soft and reassuring, providing a strange sense of comfort. Your eyes widen as you look up quickly to see Thanos looking back at you. You're so relieved to see him, but catch yourself. He's just using you, right? You distract your eyes as you mutter an apology. You can hear Nam-gyu scoffing as he walks away, but Thanos keeps his eyes on you. "I'm not angry with you, Flower." He says. You can't tell if he's manipulating you or not, but you honestly don't want to know. You just nod and avoid his eyes. "I don't blame you for wanting to get out of here, but you know you're safe with me. Do you want to leave because you don't think I'm protecting you?"

You shake your head, looking up again. "Sorry.." Is all you can whisper, seeing him sigh and look elsewhere. You look back at your hands, and he doesn't respond for a while, just brushing his fingers against your arm, comforting you the best he can.

"C'mon, it's dinner." He eventually whispers. You look up, not realizing the time that had passed. You nod, refraining from apologizing again, and head to the line.

I might do a pt 2 to this cuz it doesn't feel complete imo, but lmk!

~🍡🍡

send requests!!

[hoe4hotchner]

helloo can you write a hotch x reader where the reader is very clumsy and bruise easily and always show up to work in bruises which cause them to worry and especially hotch and she have to reassure him that it’s just her that bumps and trip into things and stuff

Discoloration | [A.H]

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: 𝘈𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘯 𝘏𝘰𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘹 𝘎𝘯!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘊𝘞: 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘯, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘮𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘏𝘰𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦. 𝘞𝘊: 0.6𝘬

           You were no stranger to clumsiness. Bumping into things, tripping over nothing, catching your arm on the edge of desks or walls - it was just part of your daily routine at this point. Unfortunately, that also meant your skin was often painted with bruises in varying shades of purple, blue, and yellow dotting your arms and legs like some kind of accidental artwork.

           Arriving at work with another fresh set of marks wasn’t uncommon for you. But as the days went on, you noticed more and more concerned glances from your team. You brushed it off, figuring they'd catch on soon enough. Everyone at the BAU had sharp eyes, after all, and it wasn’t long before the questions started.

           It was Hotch, of course, who took the lead. One afternoon, after you’d bumped your shin on a filing cabinet, you saw him watching you, his brows furrowed in a way that showed more than just curiosity. It was worry.

           “Agent, can we talk?” Hotch asked, gesturing to his office with a slight nod. You knew that tone - it was serious, a mixture of concern and authority that he wielded effortlessly.

           You followed him upstairs, your mind already piecing together what this was about. Once inside, he closed the door and turned to you, his dark eyes scanning you like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

           “Are you okay?” he asked, voice soft but direct. "I’ve noticed… the bruises. And I’m not the only one." He gestured to the rest of the team sitting down in the bullpen

           Your heart sank a little, realizing how it must look from his perspective. You smiled nervously, shaking your head. "Oh, no, Hotch, it's not what you're thinking. I’m just really clumsy. I bump into things all the time - honestly, I’m kind of a walking disaster."

           His frown deepened, and he took a step closer. “I’ve seen how often you come in with new bruises. If something else is going on, you can tell me.”

           You could feel the tension between his concern and your own awkwardness at having to explain your constant lack of grace. “Really, it’s just me,” you insisted, your voice steady but gentle. “I trip over my own feet, walk into doors, catch my arms on things. I’ve been like this forever. My skin just bruises really easily.”

           Hotch still didn’t look convinced. He studied you for a moment longer, then let out a small sigh, running a hand over his face. “You’re sure?”

           “I’m sure,” you said, offering him a reassuring smile. “I promise, Hotch, if something was wrong, you’d be the first person I’d tell.”

           He nodded, though the tension hadn’t entirely left his features. He trusted you, but his protective nature wouldn’t let go of the worry that easily. “I just don’t want to see you hurt,” he murmured, his voice low and sincere.

           You softened at his words. “I appreciate it, Aaron. Really. But I’m okay. Just a little clumsy.”

           Finally, a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe we’ll have to wrap you in bubble wrap.”

           You laughed, the tension in the room dissolving at last. “Might not be a bad idea,” you teased. Glad to see him joke around for once.

           He reached out, placing a gentle hand on your arm, his thumb brushing against a bruise there. His touch was careful as if he was trying to protect you from further harm. “Just… be careful, okay?”

           “I will. And thank you for worrying.”

           With one last glance, he nodded, his features relaxing a little more. You left his office, feeling lighter than when you’d walked in. It was nice to know he cared so deeply, even if it was over your clumsiness.

           But next time, maybe you’d make a conscious effort to avoid the corners of furniture.

[luveline]

would you ever write about hotch pining after r because he thinks she’s interested in someone else but then she confesses to him that she’s only ever had eyes for him 🥹

You’re shocked Hotch will let them look at him, honestly. When was the last time you saw Hotch receive medical attention? He doesn’t seem happy about it, suit jacket folded in his lap, his shirt cut in three places, most noticeably the left sleeve. 

“His arm is definitely broken,” Spencer tells you. 

“Do you think he’ll let me give him some comfort?” you ask, the two of you with your arms crossed against the side of the second ambulance, where Morgan undergoes a similarly reluctant checkup for his bloody temple. 

“No. You can always try, though. He’ll appreciate the effort.” 

You ready yourself with a deep breath and begin the short walk. It feels long then suddenly over at the same time. The only thing between you and Hotch now is a shoe’s width and the EMT securing his temporary sling. 

“They’re making me an emergency appointment,” he tells you. 

You fight the urge to rub the toe of your shoe into the ground. “Are you in pain?” 

“No. They gave me tramadol.” 

Hotch pushed you hard out of the way of a brawl and took blows meant for you in turn. He never lets you get hurt in the field. At first you’d assumed him to be the overprotective boss, and careful of women in the team, but you’ve caught on now that his motivation wells from somewhere deeper. 

Hotch loves you. He won’t tell you. You have no idea why. 

The EMT says she’ll return and takes her leave. You nod to the patch of metal flooring beside him, legs too tired to keep standing, and Hotch moves over to leave a gap between you suitable for turning into. You sit down with a sigh. Face to face, this close, you can see the different colours of his iris and the scar under his eyebrow clear as day. 

“You okay?” 

“Are you?” he asks with nothing more than a single short nod. 

“I’m worried about you,” you confess. “I wish you wouldn’t do that. I can take care of myself, okay? I don’t like you getting hurt in my place.” 

“I’m your Unit Chief.” 

“If it were Morgan, you wouldn’t have pushed him out of the way. If it were Emily. And we both know I can hold my own.”

He doesn’t look away from your face. “I know.” 

You’re finding it hard to want to scold him. You love him, too. You appreciate what it takes for him to take a fight that was meant for you, and the sentiment behind it. You’d quite like for him to protect you, just not at work. He could glare down potential suitors or argue with people who are rude to you at the grocery store. He doesn’t need to do your job for you. 

You raise your hand tentatively to his face, ignoring his confusion as you rake the hair that falls against his forehead back up. “It’s getting a little long for you.” 

“I’ve been busy.” 

“Me too. I keep meaning to do so much stuff but we get home and I get to my apartment and I just sleep for days.” 

“I wish I did something that sensible.” 

You curl your fingers over his shoulder. Without his suit jacket, you can feel the solidness of his muscle and soft tissue clearly. You rub your thumb in a half circle. 

“Why don’t you sleep much? I wish you would.” 

His eyes flare momentarily. His only tell, a flicker of movement you can’t miss. He’s surprised by something, your question, maybe your tone. “I do sleep.” 

“Not enough.” 

“No, I guess not.” 

You press your cheek to his arm. Can’t help yourself. He’s this strong, stern guy, so used to trying to save everyone that he barely looks after himself, and it makes you sad to think he’d love you and not want to tell you, because why wouldn’t he? Something in him must stop him from acting on it, but that something isn’t in you, not anymore. “Can’t believe you got your arm broken for me,” you murmur, lips to his shirt. You let out a breath, feel the warmth of it pass onto his skin and his following shudder. 

“It wasn’t purposeful.” 

“No? That’s good.” 

“I would do it again,” he says. “I thought you’d be with Morgan.” 

“Morgan’s a big boy.” 

“As opposed to me.” 

“I want to be here with you. I’m worried about you.” You press your face further into his arm, scared to say it even though you know it’s returned. “I care about you so much, ‘n’ you never let me show it.”

“That’s not true,” —his voice climbs higher— “I thought… You and Derek are close.” 

“He’s my friend, Hotch. It’s not like that.” 

Hesitant, tender all the same, Hotch’s uninjured arm slinks around your side to hold you, to bring you closer to his side where you’re hiding. You’re much too old for this, and still you have to confess. 

“I don’t like him,” you say. 

“As opposed to me.” 

You laugh at his repetition. Too embarrassed to say anything more on the subject but wanting to cement it in his head, you raise your head and your hand at the same time, knuckle to his jawline, nudging him to one side. You lean up and kiss his cheek. 

“Please don’t push me out of the way again,” you say. 

Hotch smiles at you, a proper, soft-eyed smile. “I won’t.” 

It’s an obvious lie. 

“Maybe when we go home we can nap together,” you suggest, heart slamming considering the innocence of what you’ve suggested. 

His fingers cradle your side. “You want to?” he asks carefully. 

“You can finally get some rest.” 

He closes his eyes, resting his face against yours. 

[weirdmageddon]

i love these tags this person is so right

actually, can you imagine if dave was raised by B1 roxy?

i wanna get into this actually

(ok i had to spend a few hours rewriting this because IT DIDNT FUCKING SAVE AFTER FIVE HOURS OF WRITING WHEN MY COMPUTER UPDATED WHILE I WAS AFK so it would mean a lot to show this post some appreciation. i LOVEEE hearing what other people have to say)

even though these things mom does are presented in an extravagant, kitsch, jokey way, her intentions always came from a place of sincerity. she is simply Funnie

but rose reads too far into it and assumes things that aren't there, that her mother is passive-aggressively feigning interest in rose's interests simply because the things she does are so extra. "why do all of this if not to mock me"

im telling you right now if dave lived in this household he wouldn't assume antagonism, he'd go,

don’t forget who LITERALLY patented tangible jpeg artifacts as their post-scratch adult self and scattered shitty scummed up statue of liberties all over the planet. theres no way some of that overboard artful shit wasnt post-ironic / circling back around to genuine funny sincerity

dave's natural state is funny sincerity like roxy. he's had the natural capacity for this type of humor from the start and this is the direction he goes towards when he grows out of his brother's shadow by the end of the comic. dave and roxy share an earnest “so bad its good” type of humor

(lots more under the cut; the length of this meta analysis just got unwieldly with all the pictures and whatnot)

despite the alcoholism, roxy is a supportive mother. she's not the ideal guardian but hells of a lot more supportive of her kid than bro is. if she knew dave's interests she would totally indulge in them with some over the top silly goofy haha shit as a genuine gesture simply because she loves him

rose isn't too keen on it though. but she is more similar to dirk in her natural state of thinking of overthinking shit and assuming the worst, like the tags said

and yes dave got the sweet cuddly yet sometimes backhanded ouppy gene from roxy, probably even moreso lol

roxy's even said rose "sounds like girl dirk"

side tangent here, but this is something i wanna talk about.

i dont think bro should ever be in custody of children ever but if theres anyone who would be up to the task it's rose probably. i know she'd be able to keep up with him. not only does she have a defined personality (dave is more malleable and absorbs his environment like a sponge), if anyone can pick apart B1 dirk's batshit brain and probably be right on the money it's her. lil cal has been pumping patriarchal nonsense into bro's head and rose would be able to bring the fucking facts to the table without losing her own and being a living example of a badass little girl. i also don't think bro would try to force masculine roles onto rose like he did with dave, seeing as she is a girl, so she would actually have more of a leg up and get some passes that dave was never afforded. and rose wouldn't stand idly and accept any bullshit; she is no doormat. and i think this would earn bro's respect

but anyway, from this, couldn't we conclude roxy "sounds like girl dave"?

yeah okay. we havent even gotten into their penchant for funny typos or misspeaks, deliberate or otherwise

so, dave's environment

the sentiment "god you hope you can be as good as your bro at this some day" might have been genuine at the time when he idolized bro but of course he's not able to express that in any sort of sincere fashion because he's in dirk's fucking household. and this level 10 irony shit isnt doing dave any favors

his role models were the Internet and a vague idea of what Bro was like. So he built up his facade based on irony–not the literary definition of irony, as Rose might be quick to point out, but a popular concept of irony based on the idea that things that didn’t make sense actually made sense in some roundabout way. As a master of irony, Dave probably reasoned, he could see in a way other people couldn’t why a world that was scary and didn’t make sense really did make sense, and could therefore convince those people that he was superior to them. And he would wield his knowledge to maintain the appearance of superiority by calling everything ironic and pretending he didn’t care about things that didn’t make sense, and he would use walls of vaguely rhyming words to keep everyone at arm’s length so they wouldn’t discover his insecurities (source)

roxy's style is the embodiment of post-irony. being raised by mom lalonde would be like being raised by joel vinesauce ok

what can i say ….. (getting meta about this actually, hussie got these jpeg wizard wallpapers from a spyware website. link takes some time to load because internet archive)

rose is quick to read post-irony as actually being a joke/insincere, which in bro's case would be true. but i believe dave's natural instinct, outside of the influence of bro, is to read post-irony as genuine, which is exactly how mom serves it. we see this as early as act 3 from him; he understands her motives better than rose does herself:

and in act 6 intermission 2 i think it's pretty clear

but the thing is, it's always genuine from her. dave wouldn't have to second guess it because he's not one to naturally second guess someone's sincerity; that was learned due to his bro being virtually unassailable

there two types of ironies at play here:

seems like a joke, is actually genuine (roxy)

doesnt seem like a joke, is actually a joke (dirk)

you can make the argument that the second is is more psychologically destructive because it makes you question the reality of what is genuine sentiment and what isn't. dave never knew what was genuine and what was irony so he just sort of existed in this sincerity-ironic limbo and always did the opposite of what he genuinely felt on principle even if it always did originate from a genuine place.

"it just a joke bro i was just being ironic i dont actually x" is so much more trust-breaking and psychologically damaging than "wait are you being serious" / "i am being so fucking fr rn davy gravy" / "ok thats actually pretty fucking awesome. giant ass wizard statue" / "RIGHT"

how much about dave would change do you think? his character arc would be completely different for one thing, i think he'd have it good aside from mom's alcohol issues. he'd be left with the sweet and funny parts of him that we see at the end of the comic. the fake coolguy stuff is out, but this remains. this is dave in his element and we see it as early as act 1

he'd probably have no shades growing up in the lalonde residence* either cause those were given to him by bro straight out of the crater as an extension of his own cool image. and john gave dave ben stiller’s aviators for his 13th birthday to replace them so he could “spread his wings”

dave said he was wearing them for the ironies but i kind of doubt it. maybe post-irony but there was some reacharound to it being genuine because dave never put those pointy anime shades on his face again.

*though... it’s kind of hard to imagine him without his shades at all? B2 dave still got stiller’s shades from stiller himself so maybe getting them is a universal constant. i can imagine mom getting him them as a birthday gift cause shes pretty wealthy and probably could buy it out in an auction. but also itd be cool if john still gave him it as a gift

dave is actually a lot more genuine and easy to read than he lets on even when grappling with his upbringing with B1 dirk (again, see this post). this can be seen all throughout he comic but a good example is the evolution of thoughts about his interest in the preserved dead things in his room:

if B1 roxy was dave's guardian he probably WOULD have pursued paleontology because she wouldve indulged him in it and probably find it cool and worthwhile to pursue, instead of allowing dave to flounder under ironic detachment, being poisoned by irony to the point of gaslighting himself into believing he doesnt actually believe he thinks this shit is cool. even if it was indulged in this such a way; a superficially kitsch and ironic appearing presentation, it comes from a genuine place and inspires genuine interest. just read the comments.

basically, i think if B1 roxy raised dave, their relationship would have a surface level appearance of being bizarre or over-the-top but they’d have an unsaid mutual understanding that it’s completely in earnest and just build on each other's funny and absurd gestures of affection. rather than seeing it as one-upping each other, it'd more like collaboration of some silly bullshit that you take a step back and look at full and just say, "fucking incredible"

speaking of paleontology, mom had the proto-ectobiology lab. maybe they'd be able to use the equipment to appearify paradox ghost imprints of the dead shit to create paradox clones of things from the cambrian era??? sounds like a fun mother son bonding activity. and theyd actually put the sciencey shit in the household to use

oh god i know exactly the kinds of music shed listen too also growing up as a teen in the 80s. she on that (post)-punk/art rock/new wave/new romantic mtv stuff. XTC shit fr. this is a B-52S HOUSEHOLD. maybe the associates for the campy melodramatic flair. so he gets to keep the record on his shirt cause he is an enjoyer of the shit in her vinyl collection. dave would still gravitate towards musical expression and music itself but of more variety outside of just rap, with an 80s-90s, even 70s flavor due to mom’s influence. see this for perhaps a glimpse. ​she probably visited new york city a lot for business trips and because the music scene was cool as hell around that time, imports came straight from jfk airport, she probably got in on that a bit and have remnants in the form of vinyls and cassettes. in this way she could be distributing void to dave (influencing him with forgotten / presently irrelevant music). now he can REALLY rave about bands none of his friends have heard of. “hey davy grvay watcha listenin to” (he holds up vinyl cover) “omg snakefinger”

btw dave lalonde would look like this to me

[pucksandpower]

Hanukkah, Oh Hanukkah

Lance Stroll x Reader

Summary: you celebrate Hanukkah with your boyfriend and his family for the first time

The warm glow of the chandelier fills the Strolls’ spacious dining room, casting soft golden light across the table laden with brisket, latkes, and an assortment of other dishes you can’t name but are determined to try.

Lance is at your side, leaning slightly back in his chair, one arm casually slung over the back of yours. His fingers tap absently at your shoulder as if to remind you he’s here. You appreciate it, considering the nerves humming through your body.

Chloe is mid-sentence, waving her fork with a flourish. “I’m just saying, it’s not Hanukkah without the family dreidel tournament. We’re doing it after dinner. Non-negotiable.”

Scotty laughs, his easy smile lighting up the room. “Is that because you win every year? You rig the rules.”

Chloe gasps. “Excuse me? I’m just naturally gifted at spinning a piece of wood. Don’t be jealous.”

Across the table, Lawrence clears his throat, his deep voice effortlessly cutting through the chatter. “It’s not about winning. It’s about tradition. And teaching new traditions to the ones joining us.” His gaze lands on you, warm but expectant.

You manage a smile. “I’m looking forward to it. Though, full disclosure, I’ve never played before.”

Lance grins, nudging you gently. “Don’t worry. It’s easy. You spin, you win, you make Chloe mad — just like the rest of us.”

Chloe throws a latke at him. “You wish. Y/N, you’re on my team.”

“Since when are there teams?” Scotty interjects.

“Since I just made them up,” Chloe retorts, flipping her hair dramatically.

Lawrence raises an eyebrow, but there’s the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Can we finish the meal before declaring war?”

You glance at Lance, whispering under your breath, “Is it always like this?”

He chuckles softly. “You have no idea.”

***

Later, the dining table is cleared of the few sufganiyot left over from dessert, replaced by a small bowl of shiny chocolate gelt and an ancient, slightly chipped dreidel. You sit cross-legged on the plush rug, between Lance and Chloe, as Scotty reads out the rules like a referee.

“Alright, reminder for everyone, especially the newbies,” he winks at you. “Nun, nothing happens. Gimel, you get everything. Hey, you get half. Shin, you give one up. Simple enough?”

“Simple,” you repeat, though the Hebrew letters are a jumble in your mind.

Chloe elbows you lightly. “Beginner’s luck is real. You’ll probably clean us all out.”

“Unless Lance decides to show off,” Scotty teases, earning an eye roll from your boyfriend.

Lance picks up the dreidel, turning it over in his hands like it’s a piece of racing equipment he’s testing for flaws. “It’s just a dreidel. Relax.”

“You’re taking forever,” Chloe says. “Y/N, you go first.”

Your stomach flips. All eyes are on you, even Lawrence’s, though his expression remains unreadable. You pick up the dreidel, the smooth wood cool in your palm. Lance leans in slightly, his voice low and playful. “Just flick it. Not too hard, or it’ll bounce into next week.”

“Great advice,” you deadpan, shooting him a look.

He grins, completely unrepentant.

Taking a breath, you spin. The dreidel whirls across the hardwood, the letters blurring. It wobbles, then falls. Gimel.

“Are you serious?” Chloe groans. “She’s taking all the gelt already?”

You laugh, half in relief, half in disbelief, as Lance tosses his hands up. “What did I tell you? Beginner’s luck!”

Lawrence leans back in his chair, watching with quiet amusement. “You’re off to a strong start.”

The game continues, the room filling with laughter and playful jabs. Chloe accuses Scotty of cheating. Scotty retaliates by stealing a piece of her chocolate. Lance spins for so long at one point that you’re convinced he’s figured out how to defy the laws of physics. Through it all, you feel yourself relaxing, the initial nerves melting away like wax from the menorah candles.

At one point, Lance nudges you with his knee. “Having fun?”

“Surprisingly, yes,” you admit. “Though I think Chloe’s plotting my downfall.”

“She plots everyone’s downfall,” he says with a grin, then leans closer, his voice dropping. “You’re doing great, by the way.”

You glance at him, curious. “At what? Playing dreidel?”

“No,” he says softly, his gaze steady. “Fitting in.”

The words catch you off guard, simple as they are. You search his face, wondering if he realizes how much they mean to you. Before you can respond, Chloe interrupts, declaring, “Okay, I’m done losing. Let’s light the candles.”

***

The family gathers around the menorah, the room growing quieter. Lance stands beside you, his arm brushing yours. Lawrence picks up the shamash, his movements deliberate, reverent. He lights the next candle, the tiny flame flickering before it steadies.

The prayer begins, and you listen, the unfamiliar Hebrew washing over you like a melody you don’t know the words to but can still hum along with. Lance’s voice is low, confident, blending seamlessly with his family’s.

You wonder if he learned this as a child, if the sound of it feels like home to him.

When it’s over, Chloe turns to you with a mischievous grin. “So, Y/N. First Hanukkah with the Strolls. How’s it going?”

You hesitate, suddenly aware of all the eyes on you. “It’s … a lot to take in. But in the best way. I mean, I’ve never celebrated Hanukkah before, so this is all new. But it’s-” You glance at Lance, then back at the others. “It’s really nice. Warm. I feel lucky to be here.”

Lawrence nods, his expression softening. “We’re glad you’re here.”

“And,” Chloe adds, “you’re way better at dreidel than Lance, so you’re already winning.”

“Hey!” Lance protests, feigning indignation. “I’m right here.”

“Exactly,” she says, laughing.

You can’t help but smile, your earlier nerves now replaced by a quiet sense of belonging. As the candles burn lower, the conversations drift to other topics — racing, snowboarding, hockey, upcoming travel plans, Chloe’s latest song idea. Lance keeps his hand on your knee, a subtle anchor in the midst of the lively chaos.

Later, as the evening winds down and the family begins to disperse, Lance pulls you aside. The room is quieter now, the glow of the menorah casting long shadows. He tugs you close, his arms looping loosely around your waist.

“You survived,” he says, his voice warm with teasing.

“Barely,” you reply, though you’re smiling. “Your family is … intense. In a good way.”

“They like you,” he says simply, then adds with a smirk, “Even my dad.”

“High praise,” you tease back.

He grows quieter, his gaze softening. “Seriously, though. You were great tonight. I know this was a big deal for you, trying something new. I’m proud of you.”

Your chest tightens at the sincerity in his voice. “Thanks, Lance. I-” You pause, struggling to find the right words. “I just wanted to do it right. For you. For them.”

“You did,” he says firmly. “More than right.”

The flicker of candlelight dances in his eyes, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you. He leans in, his forehead resting against yours.

“I love you,” he murmurs, so quietly it’s almost lost in the stillness.

Your breath catches, and for a second, all you can do is stare at him. Then you smile, the kind of smile that starts deep in your chest and spreads like warmth through your whole body.

“I love you too,” you whisper.

And in the quiet glow of the menorah, with the scent of candles and laughter lingering in the air, you realize that this — this messy, lively, imperfectly perfect night — is what family feels like.

[ddejavvu]

can you write something about how the gang handles a really emotional Curtis sister... Like she literally doesn't even know why shes crying most of the time she just is. She is literally me

send me requests for the outsiders!

--

At Dallas's groan, "Ah, here come the fuckin' waterworks again," all eyes are on you. You'd been hoping to fly under the radar, but now that seven pairs of eyes are staring at you, your tears escape hot and free down your cheeks.

"It's- I'm fine!" You insist, voice thick and choppy as you rush for the bathroom. You don't shut the door, because even if you did you know someone would have barged in. It's predictably Darry and Soda, but Two-Bit lingers in the hallway, peering in worriedly.

"You're okay, kid." Darry encourages you, a strong hand on your shoulder to help you get yourself under control, "Somethin' the matter?"

"What's with the tears, Baby Curtis?" Two asks, "Movie gettin' to 'ya?"

It's a horror movie- it's safe to say you're not sniffling over blood and guts.

"No, it's-" You sniffle, letting Sodapop tug you into his side where he's now perched on the lid of the toilet. He slings an arm around your waist and you lean gratefully into his side, thankful for the pressure of a body against yours.

"It's nothing. I don't know." You shrug helplessly, and Two smiles- kindly, not teasingly.

"You've got a condition or somethin'." He decides, traipsing back into the living room, "We oughta turn you in to a doctor, have them diagnose you with some crazy new brain condition. Maybe they could name it after you, kid."

"Yeah, Crybaby Curtis syndrome," Steve snickers, and Soda shouts a halfhearted, 'Be nice!' to his friend despite not being able to see him.

"Lay off, Steve," Johnny groans, and you hear Ponyboy chime in with a fervent, 'Yeah!' that he would have kept to himself had Johnny not led the charge. Despite having the upper hand, Ponyboy still struggles to pick fights with Steve. Usually it's a losing battle.

"Come on, kiddo." Darry urges, and Soda sticks close to your side as you shuffle back into the living room. Dallas doesn't move aside to give you your old seat back where he's stretched out over half of it, but he also doesn't protest when you throw your leg over his own to fit on the cushion.

"You've gotta man up, kid." Dally decides, snatching his cigarette out of his mouth and blowing the smoke into your face, "Can't be burstin' into tears all the time. People are gonna think you're weak."

"I am weak," You concede feebly, wiping at one last tear that streaks down your cheeks, "I don't know why it happens most'uh the time. Just does."

"Some people are just like that." Johnny smiles kindly at you, and you appreciate his sweetness, "We ain't gonna judge you."

"It'll be great for gettin' out of trouble," Sodapop grins mischieviously at you, "Just think, when you're a wild child in high school, and you're comin' home drunk at 2AM, Darry's gonna yell at you. Just flash him those teary eyes of yours and he'll get all soft for 'ya, he'll let you off real easy."

"Hey- Don't you go givin' her any ideas." Darry points a warning finger at Soda, and Ponyboy scoffs, surely jealous at the prospect of your secret weapon.

You share a secret smile with Soda, though, one that's hidden from both of your brothers. Two-Bit catches it and snorts, "Damn, Darry. I'm not itchin' to be you in a few years."

"Well then you'd better start hangin' out at your own house every once in a while," Darry glares at him, "You spend so much time here I'm gonna give you a chore on the chore chart."

"I don't even do chores at my own place," Two-Bit snickers, like the suggestion is the funniest one he's ever heard. He stretches his arm out behind your head, resting it on your far shoulder, "Just call me whenever you're goin' to those parties, Y/N, and I'll get drunker'n you, make you look like a saint in comparison."

"Dally's a saint in comparison to you, Two-Bit," Ponyboy gripes, "Just don't climb through my window expecting me to help you sneak past Darry."

"Now I mean it, boys," Darry snaps, "Don't go givin' her ideas! Conversation over."

Dallas waits all of three seconds before leaning down, tucking his face beside your ear so that he can drawl, "I'll teach you how to sneak past him if you can go without cryin' for a day."

"Deal." You hold out a pinky for him to link with his own, and if anyone else in Tulsa had offered it, they'd have gotten slugged. Instead, Dallas's finger curls around yours, and he shoots you a shit-eating grin, eyes glimmering dangerously, "24 hours, crybaby. Don't let me down."

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green Part 25

masterpost

Despite the chill in the air, it was a lovely day to be outside. The sun was warm, the ground had dried out after a few days of rain, and the trees were in full color. Danny threw the ball again for Ursa, using the odd launching stick that Dick had gotten for them. It was appreciated, really. Ursa could run and Danny couldn’t throw the ball nearly as far as she wanted by hand.

Ursa raced back with the ball, just a cloud of black fur, and darted right past Danny. Danny spun around quickly, not wanting Ursa to jump on Alfred again (they were working on it), and almost swallowed his tongue.

“Ursa! Gentle, girl! Be gentle!” Danny called out as he took off after her.

Luckily, Ursa listened and planted her fluffy butt on the ground even if she was still wiggling around excitedly.

“Hi there, Ursa, it’s nice to meet you,” Babs said with a soft smile as she held out her hand to be sniffed.

Ursa dropped the ball in the offered hand with a quiet woof and a large grin. Luckily Babs didn’t seem to mind the sudden, slobbery present and threw the ball like Ursa wanted. Ursa was off after it like a bolt.

“Sorry about her,” Danny said as he scratched at the back of her neck. “Play time means fetch right now. She’s pretty determined about these things.”

“That’s okay,” Babs said as she wiped off her hand on her jeans. “She seems like a real sweat dog.”

“She is. It’s been really good to have her.” Danny didn’t even try to hide how found he sounded. He kept his eyes on Ursa, not able to look at Babs as he asked. “Did you… did you find anything?”

“I did.” Babs’ voice was gentle. “Do you want to know now?”

“I— yes, but no? I think this will… I guess… I don’t want to hear this alone, but I think that means I’ll need to explain everything.”

Ursa dropped her ball and came over to Danny where she pressed herself firmly against his leg. Danny buried a hand in her soft fur.

“They’ll all wait however long you need them to,” Babs said.

“I know. But I think… I think I do need to tell them, if I want to get better, and I want to get better.”

“Okay. I’ll make sure the family is on the way for dinner tonight and we can talk once they get here,” Babs said with that carefully gentle sort of voice that Danny always hated a little. Jazz used to do that too. “In the mean time, I’d love to get to know Ursa more.”

Danny cleared his throat. “So, I guess it’s obvious that she really likes fetch…”

-

Dick helped Babs settle onto the sofa. She didn’t need the help, not really, but the easy back and forth of movement was just natural for them, even after all of these years. It also gave him someone to fuss over that wasn’t Danny. What he wanted to do was scoop Danny up into a hug and never let him go. Dick figured that would be a bit too stifling though. Instead, Dick made sure that Babs had her laptop while the rest of the room got settled.

Danny chose the floor, apparently. He leaned back against Jason’s legs while Tim was pressed on the other side with Steph crammed next to him. Damian was on the floor next to Danny. The two were oddly hard to separate. Ursa had draped herself across both their laps; Danny dug his fingers into her mane. He didn’t look up at the rest of the room, even as Cass sat on the arm of the couch.

They hadn’t been told much about why they were there, a fact that ate at Bruce, but he worked to let that go. Danny had asked them to be there and to the one, they had shown up. Alfred was passing around hot chocolate with Duke’s help. The inclination that the comforting drink would be needed was probably right, as much as Dick hated that. He took his own mug and clung to it like a lifeline.

“The other night,” Babs started, “Danny asked me to look into someone for him, a Jasmine Fenton.”

On the television, a picture of redheaded girl appeared. The person who’s hair Babs had reminded Danny of, Dick realized. It looked like a school photo: mediocre studio lighting, bland background, a forced smile. She was late teens with a scatter of freckles and bright blue eyes.

“Jasmine Fenton, age nineteen, is currently enrolled at the University of Arkansas in Fayetteville, where her permanent residence is.”

“Arkansas?” Danny asked quietly.

Babs nodded. “She’s been in the state since she entered the custody of Alica Bayard, Jasmine’s aunt from her mother’s side, almost two years ago.”

Danny sagged forward, burring his face into Ursa’s mane. “Oh thank god.”

“Why did her aunt receive custody?” Bruce asked when none of the rest of them seemed able to.

The steadying breath that Babs had to take wasn’t reassuring. “Jasmine was removed from her parent’s custody after the living conditions were found unsafe. This was part of an investigation into the disappearance of her brother, Daniel Fenton.”

A familiar face joined Jasmine’s on the screen. It was the same, awkward sort of school photo and Danny looked even more uncomfortable in it. His hair was shorter, his eyes bluer, and there were none of the scars. This was Danny before everything went wrong.

“The parents, doctors Jackson and Madison Fenton, were never charged with anything relating to the disappearance. They moved away from Amity Park four months later, likely due to increasing hostility from the town.”

“They weren’t dumb enough to keep me in the house,” Danny said. His words were somehow loud in the room despite being muffled by Ursa’s fur. He gave a mirthless chuckle. “You know, I used to think they were … not dumb, but clueless, you know? That they were science smart and low in everything else. The hapless, accidentally mad scientists. And then… and then I find out how much they had planned. That all of me was planned… I don’t know if anything about them was real.”

Damian leaned over to press against Danny’s side, offering his silent support. Dick was proud of how good a brother Damian was to Danny. It was a small silver lining in all of this. Danny slumped against him.

Danny’s eyes flicked back up to the screen and his sister’s face. He glanced away a long moment later. “Is there… are there any picture of the lab from the report that you can put up?”

Of course Babs had the photos and soon they were cycling through on the screen.

Mad scientists was right. The place looked distinctly science fiction, full of every day objects and tools that should be recognizable but where three steps away from reality. Everything was gleaming metal accented with a toxic green.

“My… they… the Fentons are ecto-biologists,” Danny explained as the rest of the room cataloged the details in the pictures.

“Ghost biologists?” Tim asked with furrowed brows.

“Yeah. Not that they ever met the ethics that biologists go by. But they didn’t think ghosts were sentient let alone sapient, so I don’t know why they even called themselves that. They didn’t… the screams means it’s working,” Danny said, choking on something between a laugh and a sob.

Jason cursed, the words a low rumble of anger that echoed through the rest of the room.

Dick had to get up and pace.

He brushed his fingers lightly over his family as he moved through the room, assuring himself they were all there and alright. Bruce caught his fingers and squeezed. Dick huffed, but settled lightly on the arm of Bruce’s chair.

“There’s a lot I didn’t really think about as a kid,” Danny said, once the room had settled again. “I should have. But they were—I thought they were my parents. I thought they knew best. When I started to really pay attention… we didn’t see eye to eye pretty quickly, but I thought they were just misguided, you know? I thought that maybe, eventually, I could talk to them about all the things that I’d learned and show them that they were wrong. But I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what, sweetheart?” Bruce asked.

“That I was never their son. I was just a lab rat.”

“Danny,” Cass called softly.

Danny shook his head. “It’s true! They even said it: ‘you can love the test monkey, Danny, but you can’t let that get in the way of the experiment’. Apparently I was an easy monkey to care for. Not too demanding. Easy enough for them to just add to the effort they already put towards Jazz, their real kid. Easy enough to ignore when they wanted. For me it was all just… normal. Just how I grew up.”

Tim bumped Danny with his leg. “Don’t worry, Steph and I will teach you how to annoy everyone in this family so that they can’t ignore you.”

The little snort of laughter Danny made seemed to surprise even him.

“Not that we would want to ignore you anyways, Dandelion,” Jason said. “We’re not perfect, but we’re family. Real family.”

Danny leaned back against Jason’s legs, a faint smile on his lips. Dick felt something in himself unwind at the sight. Jason was right, they were far from perfect, but they were family and they would be there for Danny always. It would talk time, a lot of time, but Danny would be alright. And all along healing he’d be loved.

Bab’s caught Dick’s eye. She clearly had more to tell, but Dick shook his head slightly. Give everyone a moment. Let everyone process and drink their hot chocolate and eat some of the cookies that Alfred brought with his impeccable timing. When everything was calmer and the cookies almost gone, Dick got up and returned to his seat by Babs. He touched her wrist gently. It was as good as time as any.

“So I’ve figured out when the Fentons visited Gotham,” Babs said. An old, poor quality image of a convention banner popped up on the television. It was for alternative energies. Next to it was a list of booths, the Fenton’s ‘Ectoplasm Energy’ booth highlighted. “But what I don’t understand is why they chose to clone Bruce. They never tried to use it as a claim for child support or any of the obvious reasons someone would clone a Wayne for.”

“I, um, never knew the when,” Danny said, squinting at the images. “I didn’t… I didn’t even find out the who until I was escaping. It was stupid to stop and look, they could have come back at any moment, but I had to know, you know? But I know the why. Bruce registers as a liminal. I would bet all of you do except for Steph and maybe Alfred. Well, Jason is more like me and Dami is something other, something more. Duke’s totally different.”

Bruce leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Liminal.”

Danny nodded. “Yeah. It can—like, it’s not the best term, really, because it can mean a lot. A lot of exposure to death, exposure to death at key moments, being somewhere liminal for a really long time, or longterm exposure to ectoplasm can cause it.”

“Is it dangerous?” Tim asked, mouth twisted in a curious frown.

“No,” Danny said quickly. “Think of it sorta like a meta gene? Some people are more susceptible to being liminal and liminals, if exposed to the right… incentives, can develop… not powers but kinda? Or, if things go really wrong, can turn into a halfa.

“My—the Fentons are really immune to being liminal, they learned that in college when their lab partner got really sick and then later turned into a halfa. I dodn’t know if… I don’t know if they would have tried to use Jazz like that did me if not. I don’t think so but… well, they didn’t have to worry about her when they exposed me to all sorts of stuff around the house growing up.”

“They chose to clone me simply because I was a liminal?” Bruce asked. He sounded befuddled.

To be fair, it was like the weirdest reason ever to clone Bruce Wayne and Batman.

“Yeah. A strong one,” Danny said. “Gotham itself is pretty liminal and you’re, you know, both her knight and her prince. I think you were sort of like the perfect choice for them to pick. I guess you went to the convention. They had you handle a device, it nicked you enough for them to get blood. They, um, would have played it off. Like they bragged, everyone always just thought D…Jack was just a bumbling fool. It let him get away with a lot.”

“They snagged Bruce’s blood and cloned you to just, what, have their own liminal?” Steph asked. Her nose scrunched up at the whole idea of it.

“Yeah. Apparently they tracking how much I was exposed to and what my levels where. I didn’t… I never noticed. It was just growing up. My, they always did my check ups. Experiments were left everywhere. I cleaned the lab. Sometimes hot dogs came back to life and attacked.”

“What?!” Duke squawked.

“One more reason to be vegetarian,” Damian tsked.

Danny just shrugged. “It was just life. But, um, I didn’t really get any powers or anything so they pushed things. They set it up for me to die and be exposed to a huge amount of ectoplasm at the same time.”

Dick stilled. “It was planned?”

“What?”

“You said they killed you, but it… that was planned. Killing you was planned?”

“Oh, yeah,” Danny said softly. “Like, I thought it was an accident, just being a stupid teen and not being safe enough around big science experiments. My friend just wanted a picture of me in the portal. It turned on and—”

Danny trailed off, fingers tight in Ursa’s fur.

“And halfa.” Cass said.

“And halfa,” Danny agreed. “Which I guess was the best outcome. I could have just died and been a ghost. It was proof that someone liminal enough could be dead and not at the same time. My, um, my friend Sam said I was responsible to fight the ghosts that the portal accident let out. It was just another way to test my powers and see how they grew. Not that, it wasn’t Sam testing me, but the Fentons would let ghosts ‘escape’ and I would fight them and get new skills.”

“You were a hero, Master Danny?” Alfred asked with a purposeful look to Bruce.

Bruce had the good graces to look a little chagrined. “It just seems part of the make up at this point?”

Danny smiled a little. “I guess. I went by Phantom. The city didn’t always like me, the ghosts could cause a lot of damage, but nothing ever got too bad. I really thought I was doing something important.”

“You were,” Tim insisted. “Even if the Fentons were the real villain behind it all, you still dealt with the threats that you knew about.”

“…I guess?” Danny agreed doubtfully. “I don’t know if it matters when they just were waiting for my powers to stagnate. Apparently they had pressure from the group that was funding them, the GWI, for results so they moved up their time line. I went to sleep and woke up in a box in a GIW lab. Then I was just a lab rat. I was just something to experiment on and cut into and—and—”

Dick moved to the floor and Danny’s side, pulling his newest little brother into a tight hug. “Don’t. You don’t have to think about that anymore.”

They had seen the scars.

They knew the sort of things that Danny had been through.

That those monsters had done.

Danny didn’t need to relive any of it just to try and explain things to them. Part of Dick wanted to protect his other siblings from having to be exposed to those horrors too, even with everything else they had been through. Danny sniffled wetly and buried his face into Dick’s shoulder. Hitched sobs wracked his body. Ursa huffed and tried to lick Danny’s chin. Damian leaned closer.

Dick looked up at Jason who was already watching Dick with a question in his gaze. Jason didn’t listen to anyone, not really, but this was a family mater and Dick was the oldest child. It was his call. Dick didn’t even hesitate to nod.

Jason looked viciously pleased.

Jason and Tim could handle the Fentons. The Titans would see to the GWI. The Justice League could deal with any fallout. The family would protect their own.

Dick pulled Danny closer as he let him cry.

---

AN: *lies down dead like Danny* this chapter was exhausting to write. I hope you all like it and it feels full.

[coldfanbou]

Kinkcember Day 19: BDSM

We went from pretty short to pretty long as we have Somi getting roughed up and loving it. Please enjoy.

Length 2.7K

Somi X Mreader

“I just need someone who’s a little rougher, you know? No one I’ve met has been able to give me it.” Somi said dejectedly as she stirred her coffee. The young woman glanced at her friend, who was staring out the window. “Chae, are you listening?”

“Mhmm,” she hummed, continuing to look out the window. I think that I may know just the person. “They got me into it.”

This piqued her interest, “They got you into it?” She asks, wanting more information from the petite woman.

The ends of Chaeyoung’s lips curl up as she remembers her experience. Chaeyoung turns to her friend, “Yeah, I met him when I went clubbing once. We went back to his place, and it was so good. I could give you his number if you want.” Chaeyoung leans over the table, getting by Somi’s ear, “Fair warning, though, you will never be the same. I can’t tell you how hard it is to cum with my boyfriend.” This sends shivers down the young woman’s spine and makes her consider what she’s doing for a brief second. In the end Somi decides to take up Chaeyoung’s offer, taking the phone number. “I’m being serious, though; you’ll be ruined for any other guy.” Chaeyoung hands Somi a slip of paper with a number on it.

She took the phone and saved it to her phone. The two continued chatting a little while longer before eventually departing. Once home, Somi pulled out her phone and stared at the number, remembering Chaeyoung’s words. She called your number, listening to the tone as she waited for you to pick up the call. “Hello?” She asked after hearing the tone.

“Hello? Who is this?”

Somi takes a deep breath before nervously continuing, “A friend of Chaeyoung. She gave me your number and told me you could help me experience what I want…in bed. I’m Somi.”

You recognize the name, “And you’re saying Chaeyoung gave you my number?”

“Y-yes. She said you’re good at what you do. I want to experience it myself.” Somi could feel her heart beat faster. “If you could come to my home, I’d really appreciate that.”

You sit back and consider her offer, imagining Somi’s body in the positions you’d put her. The idea excites you. “Alright, send me the address, and I’ll come by tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? I-“

“Yes, tomorrow unless you don’t want me to show you what I do best.”

“No, no, you can come tomorrow.” Somi blurts out. You were already showing your dominance over the young woman. “I’ll send you my address right now.” She says, about to end the call when you stop her.

“Hold on, when I get there, I want you to be kneeling on the ground, bowing toward the door, naked.” Somi nods on the other side of the phone before agreeing to your demands. You end the call and wait for her message. You get it in a matter of seconds and begin preparing.

The next day, you head to Somi’s home; getting to her door, you knock. You hear feet rushing forward, opening the door slightly before retreating. You open the door and step inside; you see the idol bowing to you, completely nude. She keeps her head to the ground. You walk around behind her, placing your bag on the ground and opening it. You pull out a collar and leash and move toward the woman, placing it around her neck. “Lift your head and show me what you look like.” Somi lifts her head slowly; you snap a picture of the young woman. You put your phone away and tug on the leash. “Come on, let's go.” Somi hesitates for a moment before crawling alongside you. She points you to her bedroom, and you lead her to it. You undress yourself in front of the young woman. She stares in awe as she sees your cock. Somi feels a wetness between her legs as she begins to imagine what you’ll do to her.

You go through your bag, grabbing some restraints and some other tools you plan to use on the young woman. One of them was a riding crop. You run it down Somi’s back, stopping as you reach her plump ass. “Listen up, Somi. I’m going to be in charge, and you’re going to do whatever I say. I’m your master now. You’ll respond to all my questions, ending your answer with master. Am I understood?”

“Yes,” Somi says, nodding quickly. You pull back the riding crop and deliver a strong strike to Somi’s rear. The woman yelps, the sting from the hit lingering on her body. “Yes, Master!”

“Good.” You look around the room and notice a full-length mirror in the corner. You smile to yourself and look through your restraints until you find the right one. You command the young woman to look in the mirror, and she follows along with a quick “Yes, Master.” Staring into the mirror, Somi sees the collar around her neck, the word “Slut” emblazoned on it. Somi felt an aching in her cunt; this was what she wanted, and more than anything, she wanted to touch herself right now. You pull Somi’s arms back, tying her wrists to her ankles and pushing her onto the floor. Somi had her ass raised in the air; she felt your riding crop run move along her ass. She felt you move lower, teasing her folds. She moaned softly but pursed her lips, trying to stay quiet. “Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to whip this pretty little ass until it’s bright red, and for every hit, you’re going to thank me.” You pull back the riding crop and smack Somi’s ass, watching it jiggle as the young woman thanks you for the hit.

Somi stared at the mirror, waiting with anticipation for every hit. She was getting so wet; every hit felt so good she was nearly forgetting to thank you. She wanted to cry out for more but feared you would stop if she mentioned it. She arched her back, raising her ass higher to ask for more of the delicious pain. “Thank you, Master!” She moans. Somi could barely see the redness making its way into view. She could feel herself getting closer to cumming, and you hadn’t even touched her yet. You paused your strike, switching out the riding crop for a short whip. The new strike made Somi cry out as more pain was handed to her. Somi bit her lip, watching as you whipped her ass. She continued to thank you for every hit. By now, her ass was the bright red you were after; the riding crop and whip left their marks on her body.

You kneel beside Somi and place your hand on her ass, squeezing the battered flesh. “You did a good job. You didn’t make a mistake. We’ll do this longer next time.” You move your hand down and push two fingers inside Somi. She raises her head and moans, nearly cumming from it. You feel her walls clamp down around your fingers as you curl them and rub against her G-spot. Somi cries out, her body pushed over the edge. She squirms as her orgasm comes. “Little baby came from just that? That won’t do.”

“I’m sorry, Master. I’m sorry.” Somi cries, her mind becoming foggy. You hook your arms around the young woman and lift her, throwing her onto her bed. You get behind Somi and rub your cock against her slit, making her whimper. Still bound, Somi can only beg for you to put it in. “I’ll be a good girl, Master. I promise. I won’t cum unless you tell me to. Please, I need you inside me. Please fuck me.” A small part of her couldn’t believe what she was saying, but it was the truth. She wanted you; she needed you to fuck her. You spank the idol, making her cry out. The pain felt so good to Somi, but it also got her to shut up.

Reaching back into your bag, you pull out a ball gag and quickly put it on the young woman, silencing her. You go back to rubbing your cock against Somi’s slit. The ball gag contained Somi’s moans, allowing you to enjoy yourself. Once your cock was slick with her nectar, you prodded her entrance, struggling to fit inside her small cunt. Somi could feel your cock, press against her entrance; you were big, and you were going to split her in half. You pushed against her entrance, forcing yourself inside. Somi’s eyes rolled into the back of her head as she felt your cock stretching her out. Her muffled moans wouldn’t stop as you stuffed her. You kept one hand on her ass, your grip growing tighter as you reached for her leash and pulled Somi’s head back, choking her. Every inch continued to stretch the young woman; her toes were curling, and another orgasm was coming, threatening to wipe her away.

You were halfway in when you decided to say screw it and rammed the rest of your length inside her. Somi screamed into her ball gag as she came. Her walls wrapped tightly around your cock, coating it in her juices as Somi felt her world disappearing. Pleasure filled her body, her mind broken as she felt your cock pulse inside her. You let go of the leash and pull your cock out slowly, leaving just the tip inside.

In the next moment, your ram your cock all the way inside her body. Somi cried out; you were destroying her, reshaping her pussy into your image. You pulled back again and thrust into her roughly, beginning a consistent rhythm. You reveled in the pleasure, enjoying how Somi’s tight cunt held on to you. She was nearly as good as Chaeyoung. As you’re thrusting, you reach over and undo her restraints before tugging back on Somi’s leash. Now free from her bindings, Somi’s upper body moved along with her head. You continued to thrust into the young woman, pushing her to another orgasm as you moved your arm across her chest and held her in place. You grabbed one of the toys you had set out earlier and waited until Somi was on the verge of another climax.

Somi was close, too. Her moans only got louder as she felt your cock ramming into her womb. She was tightening around you again. You made your move as you impaled her on your cock and made her cum against you, put clamps on her nipples, and pulled them. Somi screamed into the ball gag; she looked down and watched as her skin stretched as you pulled on the chain between the clamps. It was too much; Somi squirted, tainting her bedding with her nectar as you made her orgasm continue. Somi’s head was spinning, and she was losing track of what was happening.

You continued to ram your cock into the idol, nearing your climax. You undid the ball gag and listened to Somi’s hoarse moans. Your cock began to throb, and you closed in on the young woman. “I’m going to cum inside you, Somi. Take it all.” Somi eyes were half-lidded, she was barely aware of what was happening, but she knew one thing, and that was she needed to take your cum. You bury yourself inside Somi, ramming into her womb. You paint her walls white as you unleash a torrent of cum, filling her belly with it. Somi moaned softly as she felt your hot cum pour inside her ruined body. The moment you let her go, she collapsed onto her bed. You keep yourself inside Somi, thrusting softly as her walls milk you.

Pulling out of the young woman, you watch as your cum flows from her gaping cunt. You climb out of bed and roll Somi over to the bed’s edge, making sure her head hangs over it. The barely conscious woman wakes up a little more as you slap her cheeks with your cock. “You’re going to clean me up now.”

“Yes, Master,” Somi mumbles, opening her mouth for you. You slide yourself into Somi’s mouth, pushing your entire length inside her before pulling out. You groan, enjoying her throat’s tightness before moving back into it. Somi lies there taking your cock, barely able to breathe as you stretch her throat too. While she’s cleaning your cock, you take the time to play with her tits, tugging at the chain between her nipple clamps and pulling her skin taut. Somi moans around your cock, her throat vibrating and making the experience more pleasurable. You let go of the chain and touch her bare tits, squeezing them roughly. “Next time, I’ll make sure to use these things.” You tell Somi. Nearing another climax, you begin thrusting quicker, slapping Somi’s face with your balls as you do. Just as you’re about to cum, you pull out, giving Somi one last chance to breathe. She unwittingly takes it, and when you stuff your cock back down her throat, you cum. Somi’s forced to drink every drop as you unload into her stomach. You roar as her throat begins to close around you. Just as she was about to run out of breath, you pulled out and used the last of your load to paint Somi’s face, covering it in a thick layer of your semen.

You move away from Somi, grabbing your phone. “Somi, look over here and smile for the picture.” Somi rolls onto her stomach and smiles. The picture shows her messy hair, painted face, and collar. She was a natural slut. You begin dressing yourself and putting everything away except for the collar. You pat the young woman’s chest and smile at her. “You’ve earned that, Somi. You’re just like Chaeyoung, one of my prized sluts.”

Somi smiles weakly, “Thank you, Master.” After you leave, Somi lies in the same place, her body tired and full of cum. Her only thoughts were about you and what you did to her. Somi placed a hand on her sore cunt, recoiling slightly as she pushed two fingers in and played with herself. She couldn’t get you out of her mind; at home, she refused to take off the collar, feeling more natural with it on. She looked at pictures she had taken of the aftermath and masturbated to them. She texted day after day to come over, but you would decide when to deal with her.

The next time she and Chaeyoung met, Somi explained the whole thing, how she was struggling without you. “I told you, you’re ruined for all men. Nothing is ever going to feel like his touch.” Chaeyoung said, rubbing herself over her jeans. “I miss it so much, what I wouldn’t give to be his slave again.”

Somi had an idea when she heard that. “Come over to my house and join me! Please, I need him, and he isn’t responding to me; maybe if I tell him we’re both there, he’ll respond.” The idea made Chaeyoung wet; getting to experience you again would be like heaven to her.

She shut it down, though, “I can’t. I have a boyfriend now.” She hated herself for saying no, seeing how desperate Somi had reminded Chaeyoung of what you did to her. The conversation soon dwindled between the two as Chaeyoung thought about how much she wanted you and whether giving up her relationship would be worth it. Somi could only think about what to do to get you to respond to her.

A couple of weeks later, as Somi got ready to perform, she saw a familiar number on her phone. Somi saw the notification pop up; she looked around quickly before clicking on your message. Her heart leaped for joy when she saw you had accepted the request. When she saw you accepted her request, she was more than ready to drop everything and head home, but her manager stopped her.  During her entire performance, she thought about you, and she rushed home afterward.

When you got to her door, you found Somi waiting for you. A bright smile on her face as she bowed to you, raising her head only to show off the collar she loved so much. “Welcome home, Master.”

[nottsangel]

FIVE. scissoring — pansy parkinson

warnings — smut 18+. drunk sex. scissoring. praise.

kinkmas mlist. more.

out of all the many possibilities of how the night would go, this is the one you’d least except…

the night started like any other. it was one of those regular sleepovers with your longtime best friend, where you were simply chatting in your cosy dorm room, a terrible romcom softly playing in the background, drinking some well-deserved red wine, laughing about your date that went horribly wrong— nothing out of the ordinary.

but then… well, things did start to feel out of the ordinary as the intoxicating red wine eventually kicked in, temperature rising as both of you began shedding more and more pieces of clothing, her stares lingering on your soft lips…

fast forward to now—since much of the night is a blur thanks to your intoxicated state—pansy, your best friend, is fully naked on top of you with her pink lips pressed against yours, tongues dancing hungrily against each other. her soft hands eagerly roam over your body, exploring every inch that she’s secretly longed to touch all these years. you can feel the deep urgency in her touch as she squeezes your tits, before sliding her hand lower to your core, rubbing slow, tantalising circles on your aching clit.

“i bet i can make you feel so much better than all those stupid boys ever could.” she whispers breathlessly in between the fiery kiss, your hand on the back of her head desperately pulling her closer, craving more of her. her familiar, flowery perfume fills your senses as you taste her cherry-flavored lipgloss, her plump tits pressed close against yours.

“oh yeah? show me.” you mischievously murmur against her lips, feeling more aroused than you’ve had ever been, your aching cunt dripping already. pansy then hastily kisses her way from your senstive neck down to your tits, briefly sucking on your hardened nipples before impatiently straddling herself on top of you, her core pressing right against yours.

“you look so pretty under me like this... fuck” she praises as she slowly starts grinding her hips, her swollen clit rubbing so perfectly against yours, causing you to let out a hitched breath at the feeling. your eyes don’t leave her for once, though, because, god, she looks breathtaking— her pretty tits bouncing in sync with each rhythmic movement as she stares down at you with her pink, glossed lips slightly parted.

her hands hungrily snake up to your tits, firmly squeezing them as her pace suddenly quickens. the pressure on your sensitive clit increases and the pleasure only heightens, making you slowly flutter your eyes shut, your hands instinctively gripping the sheets. you’re so close to your release, and by the way her movements become more frantic, you can tell she is too.

“fuck, pansy, feels so good! just like that” you moan, panting and biting your lip as you eagerly thrust your hips up against hers from beneath, the intense pleasure fully clouding your mind. when you slowly open your eyes again, you see a sly smirk spreading across her beautiful, flushed face, clearly relishing the way you respond to her touch as you’re completely falling apart under her.

“that’s it, baby, cum for me. do it.” she orders while toying with your hardened nipples, and fuck, you immediately obey— your back arches off the mattress as your orgasm hits, loud, high-pitched moans slipping from your lips. she follows right after you, her legs trembling while moaning your name as your juices mix together, coating your goosebumps-covered skin.

she pants, breaths coming out ragged and uneven, before she aggressively cups your face and places a long, firm kiss on your swollen lips. “mmm… we should definitely have sleepovers like this more often.”

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

reminder: reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and keep me motivated. ty! ♡

[tthoroughfare]

crush // abby anderson

*･゜ﾟ･* summary: abby is like can u read my mind? i've been watching u! couldn't fight to save ur life, but you look so cool!!! just me rambling about making abby realize she's not straight

*･゜ﾟ･* pairing: canon!abby x reader

*･゜ﾟ･* content: sfw! you two dancing around each other for now. abby being nervous and cute.

*･゜ﾟ･* length: 1.3k

this is part one and i've already written the majority of the rest. just thought this was a good way to break it up :)

recently i am thinking A Lot about the concept of being the girl that makes abby realize she’s not straight ,,, and the first girl she’s ever with

the idea of her being all fumbly and nervous and you having to take the lead. it’s just good

i also love the idea of being very different to her. you’re not a soldier like her, maybe you do something technical and sciencey. you get moved to the base and become friends, and people are just like… kinda surprised that you’re so close, so fast? on paper, you don’t seem to have that much in common but it just works. she likes that you’re different to her, it’s refreshing

you’d already heard a lot about her before you moved. you told her that not long into being friends with her, to which she’d scoffed a little, toying with her fingers. you were in the canteen, the two of you sitting opposite each other on the end of the table, leaving a gap between the rest of the group.

“good or bad?”

“good,” you’d chuckled, taking a bite of your lunch.

she paused, flitting her gaze away as you held eye contact, chewing slowly. “gonna elaborate?”

the corners of your mouth quirked as you swallowed. “just that you’re… pretty impressive. good at what you do. slightly intimidating.”

she scoffed again, eyebrows twitching. “i’m not… do you think i’m… you think that?”

“…impressive or intimidating?”

“either.”

you’d looked downwards, pausing before meeting her eyes with a teasing smile on your face. “you’re very tall.”

she didn’t tell you this at the time, but she’d heard things about you, too. she hadn’t paid it much mind at the time, but there had been a couple of mentions of a scientist girl moving in to help out with a new assignment full time, and that she was, ‘like, a genius’

also, manny had said something to her along the lines of ‘apparently she’s hot’, while raising his eyebrows with a cheeky smirk

she’d just rolled her eyes

but then she meets you for the first time, and okay. he wasn’t wrong

it’s only a chaste introduction as you cross paths one day, but she has to make a real effort to keep her cool. she doesn’t understand it, she’s just affected by you, just has to know you

and then she does know you, and she still wants to know you more. it’s this feeling, this drive, always wanting more more more

it sends her crazy. the fact it takes her so long to realize she has a crush on you makes her look back and laugh at her own naivety

she finds out you’re gay maybe a month into being friends with you, when you’re hanging out with her at the library. she never gave much thought to the fact you seemed to follow her around, spend nearly all your spare time with her. she figured it was just because you didn’t know anyone else that well yet.

she’s quietly reading on one side of the couch, while you try your best to get some work done on the other, papers strewn over the coffee table in front. it’s difficult to concentrate, though, even though you’re fully aware how inundated you are. one of her legs is slung up on the couch, bent at the knee, and you’re so conscious of the proximity.

after a good while of trying and failing to get anywhere, you look up at her and lean in a little. “hey, abby?”

she looks up from her book, acknowledging you.

“i’m bored.”

she chuckles as she sits up, closing the pages around her middle finger to keep her place. “c’mon, we need you to… save the world.”

you let out a small, fond scoff, putting your notebook and pen down on the coffee table. “that’s really… not what i do. appreciate the delusion of grandeur you’ve just given me, though.”

she watches you with a smile, not meeting your eyes as you sit back on the couch, shuffling around to face her. “so…” you begin.

“so…?” she parrots, raising her eyebrows slightly.

“what went on between you and owen?”

she’s a little shocked at your bluntness, laughing nervously and shifting in her seat. as far as she was aware, you didn’t even know anything about that. “what?”

you pull a face. “come on, i’m not stupid. i notice things.”

in truth, you’re using the question as a trojan horse to figure out if she likes women. you are genuinely curious, though, and right now the conversation sounds a hell of a lot better than doing what you’re actually supposed to be.

she pauses, eyes flitting around the room. “uh… we were together for a while. and now we’re not.”

you nod slowly, waiting for an elaboration that never comes. “that’s it?”

abby shrugs awkwardly, and you feel a little bad for pushing, holding your hands up. “sorry, sorry. i don’t mean to pry.”

“s’okay.” she messes with the novel, eyes trained on it as she runs the pad of her index over the closed pages. “what about you? you got a boyfriend?”

“i, uh… i was with someone. it didn’t work out.”

she hums in sympathy. “he a scientist, too?”

“she’s a medic.”

abby freezes, looking up at you, mouth falling open slightly. she feels stupid for assuming. “oh, shit, sorry. i didn’t realize you were — sorry. not that there’s anything wrong with that.” she mentally kicks herself for the last statement. of course there isn’t. she doesn’t even know why she said it.

you laugh, amused by her babbling and the way the tops of her cheeks turn pink. “you’re good, you’re good.”

she lets out a final, ‘sorry’, gaze darting from you, to her book, to the shelf on your right. then, she looks back at you, feeling the need to break the slightly uncomfortable silence that had fallen. “anyway… her loss.”

you chuckle. “owen’s loss. who needs ‘em?”

“who needs ‘em?” she repeats, breathing out a laugh.

after the revelation, something shifts for abby. she doesn’t know why, but finding out that you like women makes her feel… different (?) about you

not in a bad way. just different

she’d always looked at you and thought you were beautiful. possibly more beautiful than any girl she’d ever seen

and she knew she was nervous around you; she was normally pretty outgoing and didn’t really have an issue talking to anyone. but when it came to you she’d overthink every sentence, words getting caught in her throat. she just felt such a need to impress you, wanted to say and do everything right

she just thought that she really, really wanted to be friends with you. that she thought you were cool, and admirable, and funny, and smart, and liked being around you

but finding out that you’re gay just makes her… think. on a whole other level she’d never really looked into

knowing that you could, maybe, maybe, be a viable option sends her mind reeling with a whole host of confusing thoughts more than she’d like to admit

she’d never really put much thought into her sexuality. she’d always just assumed she was straight. sure, she’d looked at women before, gotten a little flustered around pretty girls, but just guessed everyone did

but when it was you… like. you… it was a whole other ballgame

and then, over a few months, she starts thinking about silly things like how it would feel to touch you — really touch you, not just the friendly brushes you already shared. how soft you’d feel, how it would be to have her fingers threaded through your hair

then she starts thinking about if she’d maybe want to kiss you

she decides she’s not against the idea