#collapsible kitchen utensils

[thehonestcart]

Collapsible measuring cups and spoons are space-saving kitchen tools designed for convenience and efficiency. Made from durable, flexible materials like silicone, they easily fold flat for compact storage in drawers or cabinets. Perfect for baking, cooking, and portioning ingredients, these tools are lightweight, easy to clean, and ideal for small kitchens or on-the-go use. Upgrade your kitchen with these versatile and practical measuring tools!

[fandomfucker]

can I request a poly!judgement day x fem!reader, where she get stressed out and cooks and bakes as a stress response?

Baker-Poly!TJD x Fem!Reader

A/N: I’m sorry I’ve kinda disappeared lately, I’m dealing with a lot of mental issues on top of school and work but I’m jotting down ideas when I can, just don’t expect anything regularly😓

Word Count: 1,383

The sickly sweet smell of vanilla filled the kitchen, spilling out into the rest of the house. The harsh tempo of a metal song reverberated throughout the house, originating from the kitchen. Clanging noises emerged as various cooking utensils clashed against metal bowls. Hurried footsteps paced back and forth on the warm-tiled-floors. 

In the kitchen, pacing in front of the untidy countertops, covered in various spilled ingredients, was Y/n. She cradled a metal mixing bowl to her chest as she used a whisk and beat the dry ingredients laid in the bowl.

Small puffs of powder flew up as the whisk repeatedly hit the side of the bowl, coating Y/n’s ‘Kiss the cook’ apron as well as her face. She blew small streams of air out the corner of her mouth, fluttering strands of hair that had fallen from its updo. 

Her hips swayed gently to the beat of the music, the chilling voice of Spencer Charnas from Ice Nine Kills floated around the room. “Now I’m lost on my own, in search of something real.” She sang along. 

Lately, her partners, all four members of The Judgment Day, had all been on the road for almost a week now and for Y/n, work had been unbelievably stressful, what with the giant company-wide project she’d been leading. And when she’s stressed (which had gotten to be more often than not lately) she bakes. So, her partners had had her own pantry built with every possible ingredient for whatever she wanted, whenever. 

The four members of The Judgment Day were scheduled to return home tonight but their flight had been delayed, prolonging Y/n’s stress baking.

There was already an apple pie and pumpkin brownies baking in the oven, and a batch of chocolate chip cookies cooling on the counter. Even though it seemed like an absurd amount of sweets, she knew that whatever she and her partners couldn’t eat or didn’t want would go to either co-workers (the other wrestlers loved her and her diet-breaking-treats) or to some of the neighborhood kids to take home.

Her brows, furrowed in concentration, straightened shot up in excitement as she heard the telltale signs of her favorite song “THIS IS MY BRUTALITY!”. She began bumping along to the rhythm of the metal music. 

“Hey Siri, turn the volume up!” She half-shouted to be heard. The music got louder, now as loud as it could possibly go as Y/n finally began to loosen up. Jumping around the kitchen, mixing her wet and dry ingredients, she paid no mind to anything else around her. Not even the sound of the front door opening as her partners all walked in.

The four of them stood, shocked in a huddle just inside the door as they watched their partner belt out the lyrics to Rhea’s theme song. A favorite partner was never and never would be a thing between the group, however a favorite theme song was totally different. 

Rhea’s baffled expression slowly grew into a smug smirk, as she watched her girlfriend sing and dance along to her song.

It took entirely too long for Y/n to notice that other people had even entered the house, not to mention were right behind her, watching.

“The demon in your dreams, now hear me in your scr-AHHH.” Her timing was impeccable. 

Y/n bent over, one hand on her knee as the other clutched her chest, breathing heavily while her heart raced. “Holy shit, you guys scared me.”

Rhea grinned as she stepped forward, grabbing the back of Y/n’s neck, her fingers gripping her baby hairs, and gently pulling her upright as she kissed her forehead smugly. “Sorry, love.” She laughed.

Y/n all but collapsed against Rhea, laying her head against her chest, wrapping her arms around her waist tightly while Rhea held her waist with one arm, cradling her head in the other, snorting with laughter.

Y/n’s cheeks heated at the laughter, causing her to bury her face even further into Rhea until a beeping noise, one of the several timers Y/n had set, went off. 

Y/n practically threw herself away from Rhea, keeping her head down as she slid on her purple monster oven mitts and grabbed the pumpkin brownies out of the oven, leaving the pie in there for a few more minutes.

The end of Rhea’s song finally came around, much to Y/n’s delight. 

Until she remembered that she’d put the song on repeat to play again and the starting lyric had her partners doubled over in laughter again, much to her chagrin.

Shamefully, she walked over to her phone and took it off of repeat, skipping the song just before she turned off her phone and put it back on the counter.

Only for the next song to play to be Dominik’s theme song.

All four members of the Judgment Day were actively laying on the floor dying with laughter at this point. Finn began coughing uncontrollably in an effort to not throw up while Rhea tried not to piss herself.

Rolling her eyes, Y/n crossed her arms as she watched her partners squirm around on the ground. “Alright, guys. We get it. I like your theme music. Big whup.”

She turned back to the counter, laying out the dough she’d just mixed as she began to knead it against the flour-covered counter.

“Hey,” Damian’s hands gripped her waist from behind as he held her to him. There was still a bit of laughter in his voice but Y/n could tell he meant what he was saying. “We think it’s very endearing, muñeca. Nothing to be embarrassed about.” He kissed her temple lovingly as the other three finally peeled themselves up off the floor.

“Aht!” She yelled, almost as a reflex when she swatted Dominik’s wandering hand towards the still cooling cookies on the counter next to her.

His big brown eyes showed the hurt of a kicked puppy as he looked at her in betrayal,

“First of all, all four of you need to take a shower. Then we’re going to have dinner, then you can have a cookie. Okay?” Y/n explained, waddling towards Dominik, Damian’s hands still firm on her waist causing her to drag him along heftily.

Dominik nodded sadly, perking up significantly when Y/n placed her hands on his cheeks, bringing his face up to give him a quick peck on the lips. Sounds of protest came from around the room from the other three who had yet to receive a kiss.

“Hey!” Y/n silenced the four of them, staring into Dom’s big brown eyes. “We can have so many cuddles and kisses after dinner and showers, okay? We’ll watch a movie and have cookies, and brownies,and pie and make-outs. But after.” She bent his head down to kiss his forehead before gently pushing him away.

Prying Damian’s fingers from her waist, Y/n turned around to face him, gently pushing his chest as well in the direction of the stairs, gesturing with her finger for him to go up there.

“Dibs on the master shower! By myself,” Rhea added at the shared lewd looks from the boys.

Y/n laughed at the boys’ obvious pouting but they all made their way past her towards the stairs to use the guest bathroom upstairs, which was really about the same size as the master. 

As Finn passed Y/n, he lightly squeezed her waist and gave her a small peck on the cheek. “Your secret’s safe with us, love.” He laughed.

Y/n just grumbled in response as she went back to her dough. 

Rhea smirked as she got an idea, and walked behind Y/n to get to the stairs. She smacked her ass on the way, grinning wickedly at the gasp that Y/n let out. 

“Rhea!” She exclaimed, trying to contain her laughter as she held her stinging flesh. 

“Sorry, babe! I just couldn’t help myself!” Rhea giddily bounded up the stairs.

A small smile graced Y/n’s features as she went back to her baking. She was still stressed but now that her partners were home, they could help to carry some of the load. She didn’t have to do it alone.

[bluewolfangel01]

What if Mc doesn't use magic much to feel more normal?

*spoilers*

They go through so much crazy events and scenarios on a daily basis, and they keep getting more powerful

(ex. Making the three realms collapse upon themselves with only their existence, drawing the devildom moon towards the them/the devildom, etc.)

Mc was kinda thrusted into this life

And although it's good and enjoyable, there's still moments where they get nostalgic about being a simple human again

So what if, as a way to have some normalcy and control in their lives, Mc doesn't use any magic or spells for somethings even though they're perfectly capable of letting magic do all the work

Oh Mc could just enchant the kitchen utensils to make dinner for them? They prefers making it themselves

Mc can teleport almost anywhere they want and wont have to walk? Why not take the extra time to exercise, take in the sights, and enjoy the simple act

They can use a spell to gain and retain the knowledge for a test they have tomorrow? Why do that when they can spend quality studying time with one of their demon boys

Etc.

I feel like if Mc did this, they'd sometimes forget how insanely powerful they are like, "oh yeah, I could destroy the three realms if I stopped wearing the ring of light lol"

[lumiambrose]

he doesn’t stir as the alarm clock buzzes softly in the early morning light. you’re accustomed to this routine by now. that routine being waking your sleepy boyfriend up.

you nudge him carefully, brushing your palm over his face to softly caress his cheeks, “nagi,” your voice still hoarse as you yourself are still drowsy. “time to wake up.”

he groans, burying his face into your soft hand and the pillow beneath him. "five more minutes," he mumbles, the words barely coherent. you give a light chuckle to his words, knowing this game well. you lean down, pressing a light kiss to the side of his neck. "come on, sleepyhead."

with a heavy sigh, he finally opens one eye, peering up at you with a mixture of annoyance and affection. "getting up is a hassle. i hate mornings," he grumbles, but there's no real bite to his words. you giggle slightly, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. "i know sei. but you promised you'd help me with breakfast today."

his face softens, and he reaches up to grab your hand that is brushing his cheek. "fine," he says, his voice still sleepy but a bit more cooperative. "for you."

after a bit of encouragement and debate on whether you really need to get out of bed, you both stumble into the kitchen, the early morning light filtering through the curtains covering your apartment in a warm glow. nagi moves slowly, lethargically, albeit with a slight determination in his movements. as you mix the heap of ingredients together, he helps you crack eggs into a bowl, his hands clumsy and still half asleep. you smile, appreciating his effort.

as the coffee brews and the smell of breakfast fills your senses, you steal glances at nagi. he's still dazed, hair tousled and eyes heavy-lidded, but there's always a calmness about him that you find endearing. he catches you looking and quirks an eyebrow. "what?" he asks, a small smirk playing on his lips.

"nothing," you reply, shaking your head with a grin. "just... admiring the rare sighting."

he snorts softly, but you can see the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "i'd rather be in bed," he mutters, but there's no real conviction behind his words. you laugh, nudging him playfully while making an overly dramatic remark on how he’s dating his bed instead of you.

breakfast is a quiet affair, filled with the soft clinking of utensils and the occasional murmur of conversation. nagi eats slowly, savoring each bite, and you find yourself watching him, appreciating the simplicity of such a mundane act.

after breakfast, nagi retreats to the couch, collapsing with a contented sigh. you join him, curling up beside him and resting your head on his shoulder. he wraps an arm around you, pulling you close, and you can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest.

you try to pull away, meaning to go take a shower, but his grip holds you firm, cradled in his arms. "not yet," he mumbles into your hair, his voice soft, "don’t leave me."

you smile, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. internally you’re trying to convince yourself to go shower, you really are, but when he holds you so closely and begs you so sweetly… how could you ever say no to him?

giving into his wishes, you let yourself melt into his arms as he pulls you closer to lie on top of him. you find solace in each other's presence, seemingly enjoying the peace that comes with your sleepy boyfriend

he groans and buries his face into the pillow beneath him and your gentle touch. "five more minutes," he mumbles, his words hardly comprehensible. hearing this lousy attempt once again, you give him a light chuckle, as you know this game oh so well. you bend down to press a light kiss to the side of his neck. "come on, sleepyhead."

with a heavy sigh, he finally opens one eye, peering up at you with a mixture of annoyance and affection. "getting up is a hassle. i hate mornings," he complains. there's no real bite to his words, despite how annoyed he actually sounds. the childish complaint gets a giggle out of you as you reach to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. "i know sei. but you promised to help with breakfast today."

his face softens at the reminder and he reaches up to take your hand as it brushes against his cheek. "fine," his voice is still drowsy. when is it now? but at least now there’s a bit more cooperation in his tone. "for you."

nagi tries to debate a bit on whether you really need to get out of bed but after a bit of encouragement you both stumble lazily into the kitchen, the warm glow of the early morning sun streaming through the drapes covering your apartment. despite nagi moving slowly and lethargically, you sense an ever so tiny piece of determination in his movements. his hands are clumsy and still half asleep as he assists you in cracking eggs while you combine the rest of the ingredients into a bowl together. you smile, appreciating his effort nobody really sees all that often from him.

as the coffee brews and the smell of breakfast fills your senses, you steal glances at nagi. he's still dazed, hair tousled and eyes heavy-lidded, but there's always a calmness about him that you find endearing. he catches you looking and quirks an eyebrow. "what?" he asks, a small smirk playing on his lips.

you steal small glances at nagi as the coffee brews and the smell of breakfast fills your senses. he's still dazed, hair tousled and eyes heavy-lidded, but there's always this calmness about him that you find ever so endearing. nagi somehow catches you staring and raises an eyebrow. “what?” he asks with a smirk playing on his lips.

"nothing," you smile and shake your head in response. "just... admiring the rare sighting."

he gives you a snort in retaliation, pretending to be offended as he mumbles about “rather being in bed”, but there's no real conviction behind his words. obviously having to outdo him, you nudge him playfully while making an overly dramatic remark on how he loves, and is dating his bed instead of you.

breakfast has always been a quiet affair with you two, filled with the cutlery clinking softly and the occasional small talk. you once again find yourself observing nagi as he eats slowly, savoring each bite, appreciating the simplicity of such a mundane activity between you and your boyfriend.

after breakfast you find nagi retreating to the couch, letting out a satisfied sigh as he finally collapses. you curl up next to him and place your head on his shoulder. you feel his chest rising and falling steadily as he wraps his arm around you and pulls you close.

you try to untangle yourself from him, as you initially planned on taking a shower, but his grip holds you firm as he cradles you in his arms. “not yet” he murmurs softly into your hair, “don’t leave me.”

who are you to argue with that? you press a kiss to his shoulder as you try your best to persuade yourself to go take a shower, you really try, but he’s holding you so closely, so intimately, and he’s begging you so sweetly… you could never say no?

giving into his wishes, you let yourself melt into his arms as he pulls you closer to lie on top of him. you find solace in each other's presence, seemingly enjoying the peace that comes with your sleepy boyfriend.

I FINALLY WROTE MY MANS UGH

[walkingzombiegirl]

hii can i request a fic with bakugo and reader cooking together?

━ 𝙔𝙪𝙢 𝙔𝙪𝙢 𝙔𝙪𝙘𝙠

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 - Katsuki Bakugou x Reader 𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀 - You can't cook however that's (mostly) okay with your boyfriend whose here to help. And make fun of your awful skills. 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 - cursing 𝗲𝘅𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘀 - ❤️

REBLOGS APPRECIATED

His back faced the living room, head hunched over the stove all while he muttered nonsense you couldn't seem to hear. The room wafted of burnt food and sadness, your nose twitching at the stream of smoke finding it's way out the window above the sink. And all you could do was watch with a pout.

"I didn't mean it..." You mumbled, trying your best to peak around his broad back and see the horrid monster that he was scraping off the pan. "I know." He stated, his tone seemingly unreadable. It made your stomach fall so far you almost tumbled off your chair.

"I'm sorry." He whipped around, holding up the blackened pan which the soon burnt piece of depression fell out of and plopped onto the ceramic floor.

"This is art, what are you talking about?"

You stared at him, blinking in the dead silence of the kitchen for a few beats. The stove vent groaning behind your curious confusion.

"Art?"

"Nobody I know has ever burnt a piece of spam quite like whatever the hell that thing is." He pointed to it like a child would a bug, your face forming into one of petty annoyance. You scoffed. "It isn't that bad."

Both your heads turned down to look at the most unrecognizable piece of ash that sat sadly on the ground.

"Okay... it's that bad. I only walked away for a second!" He raised an accusatory eyebrow, a sassy tone as he spoke, "That fucking phone, you were too busy shitting to make us dinner." "I was not! I was peeing you asshat, give me that pan!"

He moved it away, shaking his head as you got up from your chair.

"Oh no goblin hands, you're not touching this even if you beg." You paused, tilting your head. "Is begging an option?" His crimson eyes bored into yours, his jaw clenching. "Don't tease. I'm hungry." You let out a groan, glancing down at the sad chunk of spam. "Can we at least cook together then?"

He seemed to think about it, giving up with a breath and walking to place the pan in the sink, turning the faucet on.

"Sweep that sad thing up and I might let you stir something." The broom was in your hand within a few seconds, a string of curses falling from your lips as he bit a smile back from crossing his mouth. His head tilted ever so slightly so he could watch you mean mug the poor crusted piece of food.

"Can I do the vegetables? Veggies are easy." He turned to you, giving to the sassiest eyebrow lift he could muster. "What?" "Hand me a knife." You asked, leaning towards them. "In your dreams babe." He pushed the block of sharp utensils before you could snatch one, a glare being shot his way.

"Fine then... the rice?" He nodded. "Realistic." He again held a grin at your angry grumbles all the way to the bag of rice, then listened to your stress grumbles as you picked it up.

"Am I a bad housegirlfriend?" He sputtered in response to you, eyeing your face as you poured the rice into the cooker. "What the fuck does that mean?" "Am I a bad housegirlfriend?" You questioned in a genuine tone, setting the bag down while pressing buttons. "Cause I can't cook."

"Oh. No. Just useless."

You scoffed watching him laugh at his own joke, blocking you from pinching his arm. The wooden spatula he was holding falling into the pan while he all but collapsed with his own ability to find himself hilarious.

"Take that back you shithead!" He wrestled against you, holding your arms against your body. "No take backsies." "No way you just said that."

You both nearly tumbled from losing your footing, food popping on the pan as he huffed and you attempted to pinch him away.

"Am I really useless?" He shook his head, kissing the side of your head while holding you up. "Eh, you're nice to look at." "You are insufferable. I can't believe you save people for a living." "I smolder them to life with my charm." He grinned, holding you from escaping his arms and taking off. "Great lord I think that face would scare me back to death."

He teetered his head back and forth, the smell of smoke entering the air that you both noticed almost immediatley. Heads slowly turning towards the stove that seemed to evilly grin back to you both.

"Kats... I think you burned the food."

"Shit."

[velvateen]

Hii! I wanted to request reader x zoro where he sees you wearing his clothes one day and how he would react!

You can also just do it with the monster trio like the other imagines if you like! :]

forgetful - zoro x gn reader!

zoro forgets his clothes at your place, and loves you see you in them. 500< words.

warnings: a bit suggestive oopsie

You collapsed on your bed after a long day of classes, the sun making the whole day miserably hot. After a moment sinking in the silence, you rolled off your bed and hopped in the shower, eager to be rid of the day. Feeling refreshed, you stepped out of the shower and ran the towel through your damp hair. Still warm from the shower, you wanted to opt for some comfier, loose clothing to spend the rest of your day inside in.

Scanning your room, your eyes caught on a t-shirt laying haphazardly on the edge of your bed.

“Huh, he must’ve forgotten it,” you mumbled, putting the big t-shirt on over your lounge shorts. You yawned, walking to the kitchen to make some lunch before the inevitable post-class nap. Over the sounds of the stove, you nearly didn’t hear the knock at the door. Setting down the spoon, you turned to grab the door.

“Hello!” you sang, throwing the door open playfully.

“He--” Zoro’s voice caught in his throat for a moment before clearing his throat, “Hey.”

Your head tilted at his weird reaction. “What?”

He walked in, setting his bag down on a kitchen chair, “Hm? Nothing.”

You didn’t miss the way he was ducking his face down, eyes rhythmically taking quick glances at you while you cooked. Leaning against the counter, stirring the pot, you eyed him skeptically. Shrugging it off, you grabbed bowls and utensils for the two of you as you plated your lunches. Sitting across from him, it really was getting possible to ignore the way his eyes were studying you, slow and purposeful in their intention.

“What is it, Zo, is there something on my face or what?” He looked down again, attention laser focused on his lunch.

“This is really good,” he muttered into the bowl, shoving his mouth full. You propped your elbow on the table, shrugging, causing the shirt to slip down your shoulder, exposing more of your skin. You honestly didn’t notice, but it was clear that Zoro did when he slammed the table, standing up abruptly, face completely flushed.

“Dammit,” he cursed, quickly making his way to you. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but before you could get a word out, Zoro had slung you over his shoulder and was making his way quickly down the hallway.

“What the fuck? If you wanted to take a nap you could’ve just said so,” you protested.

“We’re not sleepin,” he said, a smile evident in his voice as he gently closed your bedroom door.

You weren’t sure exactly what had gotten into him that day, and maybe it was all coincidence, but in the days and weeks following, your closet had grown considerably as Zoro continuously forgot his clothes at your place.

a/n: sorry this was so short anon!! i loved this prompt and i will definitely be posting for the rest of the monster trio and probably ace with this idea in the future. i got so lazy but i was itching to post. thank you so much for your replies and EVERYONE please send me a billion requests i love to see them and stir them around in my brain like smut stew.

note for future requests! i will not write NSFW unless specified! (i wanna write nsfw so give me prompts mwahahaha)

okay guys meow (ciao) •*.

[valsverse]

"love is homemade."

summary: after a long study session at the library, you find yourself feeling absolutely exhausted. thankfully, your loving boyfriend comes to the rescue by.. baking cupcakes?

pairing: percy jackson x gn!reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: a little profanity, but that's about it.

you stumbled your way to the door of your apartment, your tired eyes struggling to differentiate between the numerous keys on your keychain. you tried each one in turn, only to find that none of them worked. with each passing moment, your frustration grew, and you couldn't help but curse under your breath at the inconvenience of it all.

after a grueling study session at the library, your mind was still buzzing with facts and figures about the "wonders" of biology, making it difficult to focus on anything else. all you wanted was to collapse into your bed and sleep off the exhaustion of the day. you're about to test another key when something pulls you out of your daze.

a familiar line from one of your favorite songs, playing softly, but surely coming from inside your apartment. it was the same song you recently added to the shared playlist that you and percy had compiled over the years. as you place your ear next to the door, you could also hear the unmistakable sound of pots and pans clanging together, alongside another noise that you couldn't quite identify.

your mind starts racing for an explanation. you hadn't invited anyone over.. and the only one who has the keys to your apartment.. is percy.

you step back for a second, processing this information, and start testing the keys again, this time with more care and caution. after several attempts, one key finally clicks into place. you let out a sigh of relief before slowly pushing open the door, bracing yourself for what you might find on the other side.

despite your best efforts to minimize any noise, the door lets out a loud, grating creak that makes you cringe. you quickly regain your composure, scanning your apartment. as your eyes adjusted to the dim light, you took in the scene unfolding before you.

there, in the kitchen, was percy, stumbling around the counters in a chaotic but endearing way, surrounded by a mess of ingredients and utensils. despite the chaos, the air was filled with the delicious aroma of your favorite cupcakes. your shared playlist was playing softly in the background, accompanied by the ticking of your oven. you took in a deep breath, savoring the scent of the cupcakes and smiling at the unexpected surprise. any fatigue you had beforehand was slowly being washed away.

percy, however, seemed to be unaware of your presence until you took a step forward, making your appearance known. he stumbled backward, causing a cacophony of clattering pots and pans. his comically wide eyes met yours, clearly surprised to see you there. you got a good look at his face now, which was smudged with frosting, making him look like an overgrown child.

"why are you here?!" he whisper-shouted, even though it was only the two of you in the apartment. he quickly made his way towards you, wiping his hands on a rag that was on the counter.

"'cause it's my apartment?" you respond, shrugging off your coat.

"oh, let me get that for you," he quickly offers, taking your coat and hanging it on the rack. "but i thought you weren't supposed to be back until six?

"yeah, it's almost seven."

percy looks at you, then at the clock, and swears under his breath.

"now about that," you gesture towards the kitchen and the mess that was waiting for you. he followed your gaze and seemed to just now realize the destruction that he had caused. despite the chaos, he offers you a smile, clearly proud of his efforts. "just wanted to surprise you. knew you'd be tired after studying." he explained.

"but why?"

"'cause i love you?" he responded, shrugging nonchalantly. you didn't say anything for a moment, but a small smile began to form on your lips.

"well, thanks, but maybe next time don't destroy my kitchen?" you tease, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. he chuckles, his arms wrapping around your waist.

"yeah, i'll keep that in mind," he promises, still beaming from your earlier compliment. he leans in to give you a big smooch, but you lean back, causing him to frown.

"i did all this hard work and i can't even get a kiss?" he asks, his tone playful but with a hint of disappointment.

"you have frosting all over your face," you point out, trying to hold back a laugh. his pout only got wider.

"well, you're gonna be kissing my lips, not my face, so i don't see why it matters," percy retorts. "now c'mere."

he gives you a second to pull away, and then captures your lips in a giddy kiss. you laugh against his lips, a little surprised at his eagerness, but you don't stop him.

he kisses you repeatedly, savoring the taste of your lip balm and reveling in your embrace until he finally rests his forehead against yours when he's satisfied. you both stand there, holding each other close, lost in the moment and not exchanging any words for a while.

suddenly, he jumps back as if just remembering something. "SHIT, THE CUPCAKES!" he exclaims, causing you to flinch at his sudden outburst, but he quickly corrects himself after seeing your reaction and repeats in a softer tone, "i meant, shit, the cupcakes," before scrambling back to the oven.

you watch him as he rushes around the kitchen, checking on the cupcakes, making sure they're not burnt. he turns around to face you, his sheepish grin apologizing for the sudden outburst. "sorry about that," he says, wiping his face with a nearby towel to remove any frosting leftover.

"it's fine," you say, trying to sound nonchalant. as you walk into the kitchen, you take in your surroundings. various pipettes are scattered on the counter, bowls filled with frosting are placed haphazardly, and suspiciously shaped finger swipes are evident on them. "guess we should wait for them to cool down?" you suggest, and percy nods in agreement, pointing to a sticky note hung up on the cabinet. "that's what the recipe says too," he confirms. you immediately recognize the recipe as sally jackson's, thanks to the familiar handwriting. percy must have called her today just for this occasion.

you get pulled out of your thoughts by the sound of the sink turning on. "i'm gonna clean up here, for using your kitchen and stuff," percy announces, gathering a bunch of used spatulas and bowls. "you can relax on the couch, ill be done soon." he offers you a warm smile.

despite his offer, you don't want to relax on the couch. instead, you want to spend time with him. especially since he did all of this for you. "well, it's quicker to clean with two people, right?" you suggest.

after a few hours, the kitchen is sparkling clean, your exhaustion has vanished, and you and percy have just put the finishing touches on the cupcakes.

you're now both sitting on your comfortable couch, each about to enjoy your creations. percy has his arm around you, drawing you closer to him, and you feel safe and content in his embrace.

"whatcha doin'?" percy asks as he observes you meticulously removing the bottom of your cupcake and placing it on top.

"cupcake sandwich," you respond with a smile, holding your completed creation up for him to see.

after a brief moment of contemplation, percy quickly copies your movements and crafts his own "cupcake sandwich." he clinks his cupcake with yours once he's done, as if making a toast, and you both bite into the sugary treat simultaneously.

while it doesn't alter the flavor, the whole cupcake sandwich method is undoubtedly the superior way to enjoy a cupcake, as percy now realizes. the cupcakes may not be perfect, but as they say, love is homemade, and you'd much rather have a cupcake baked with love than one purchased for $1.99 at the supermarket.

"by the way," you remark, pointing at percy's face, which is smudged with frosting from eating, just like when you first caught him, "you still have frosting on your face."

"shit."

a/n

i feel like my writing has declined lmaoo. break is over tho! but updates will be inconsistent since classes are kicking my ass rn. i hate school, i'm sorry malala.

xx, val.

[maniacwatchestheworld]

DPxDC requested prompt #8

( @zylev-blog Heyo! I did the thing! Hope you like it! Obviously the Esparanto was run through Google Translate because like... Yeah... I don't know how to speak that... >.> )

Wulf couldn't remember how long he had been on the run for anymore. He had broken free from Walker's imprisonment, sure. But it wasn't long until someone else found and captured him. He wasn't sure who they were. Humans, certainly, but he couldn't understand the words they spoke, nor did they care to try to understand him. They had bound him in chains he could not break nor phase through, and somehow had been able to negate his abilities. It was only through luck that he managed to find an opening to be able to escape.

He had been running for a while now, but he knew they were always hot on his tail. He couldn't return to the Ghost Zone anymore. Too dangerous. Walker was surely eager for Wulf to return home and would certainly be well prepared for such an event by now. He would surely capture the runaway prisoner again if he did flee to the Ghost Zone, even if only for a moment, and he would have little chance of escaping the ghostly jailer again. No. He had to stay in the human realm. He didn't know how these humans were following and tracking him. But as he approached this massive and ominous city, he figured that this could finally be his chance to try and lose them.

At least he had successfully snuck his way into the city, but Wulf knew that he had to stay out of sight until he could find a proper place to rest. He had tried to hide his massive and inhuman build under clothes, but after a single accidental run-in with some little old lady who had clearly been startled and frightened by his size and appearance, he decided that it would probably be for the best if he stuck to abandoned alleyways and the sewers for now.

He didn't expect to find much down here in the sewers, especially not in the way of someplace to rest, so he thought that he was surely hallucinating when he came across what was seemingly something akin to a living room here in the depths of the sewers. He had been following an odd scent which was then followed by a warm light that seemed to dance only for him in the darkness, and it somehow led him here. This living room-like place was in a raised area of the sewer where it wouldn't get wet, even if the pipelines flooded. Arranged neatly throughout the room there was a couch, a television, a dining room table, and several chairs all of different kinds and makes scattered throughout the room. Attached to this room there was even an area where a fire blazed, keeping it and the rooms around it dry and much warmer than the rest of the sewer had been, and cooking utensils that had seemingly been set up to resemble something of a kitchen around the fire.

There were passageways deeper into this place, but Wulf was not about to dare to explore them. He had been running on empty for days now, and the apparent sight of this couch was too much for him to resist. Perhaps this was a trap set by the people pursuing him. But if that was the case, he would have to deal with that issue later. For now, he collapsed on the couch and let rest and unconsciousness take him.

"So you're finally awake?" A deep and growling voice greeted him the moment he shifted to open his eyes, but Wulf could not understand a word the voice said.

"Saluton? Pardonu, se mi entrudiĝis, mi nur bezonis iun lokon por ripozi…" Wulf began to sit up only for something to shove him back down again. The source of the voice, certainly.

"What was that? Couldn't make out a word you said there. Now tell me who you are, why you're here, and how you found my hideout."

It was only in that moment when Wulf remembered where he was and how he ended up here. He opened his eyes fully to look at person standing over him, but whatever he expected to see, he didn't expect... This...

There was a large... Creature...? Standing over him. It was standing on two legs like a man, but its skin was nothing like what he had seen on a human before. The creature was large, probably a similar size to Wulf himself, but was covered in a thick hide of scales. While it wore pants, it was not wearing a shirt, and it had the pointed teeth of a carnivore and eyes that ominously reflected the light of the fire.

"Uh... Saluton! Pardonu, kio estis tio denove? Pardonu, mi ne tre bone parolas la anglan. Se vi povus paroli iom pli malrapide, tiam eble mi povus… Ĉu vi diris, 'hideout'...? Pardonu, se mi entrudiĝis en vian kaŝejon, mi ne celis… Pardonu. Vi vere kaptis min senpripense ĉi tie. Lasu min rekomenci. Mi estas Wulf. Mi estas forkuranta kaj hazarde renkontis ĉi tiun lokon. Mi ne intencis transfuĝi. Kiel vi nomiĝas?"

The figure standing over him just stated blankly at Wulf. Clearly not understanding a word he said.

"Do mi opinias, ke vi ne parolas Esperanton…?" Great...

"So I take it that you're not from around here. No matter. I'm Killer Croc. And I'm a big deal 'round these parts! So who're you, and what's the deal with... All of this...?" The lizard man poked a finger at one of Wulf's arms. Wulf could gather that the stranger was asking him about his fur and who he was.

This time when Wulf tried to sit up, this 'Killer Croc' didn't stop him. However he did find that his wrists and ankles had been bound with some kind of rope. For now Wulf decided to ignore it. "You. Killer Croc?"

"Oh hey, look at that! You can understand me some!"

Wulf took the positive tone of the creature's voice as a yes. "Via nomo estas Killer Croc." Wulf motioned towards the creature. "Mia nomo estas Wulf."

"Wolf...? That's rather on the nose..."

"I. Wulf."

"Got it, got it! So what's with the fur? This just a costume for some weird gimmick, or are you just a mutant freak like me?" Killer Croc let out a small chuckle.

Wulf was having a hard time making out what Killer Croc was saying through his accent, but given the tone of a question and how he pointed at him, Wulf figured that the lizard man was asking what he was. "Mi estas estaĵo de la Fantoma Zono. Tiel mi aspektas… Uh... I ghost from Ghost Zone."

"Ghost...? You're supposed to be a ghost...? I've never heard of ghosts lookin' like you before!" The lizard man laughed.

In response, Wulf turned his wrists and ankles intangible and phased through the ropes binding him before holding the loose ropes out to the lizard man.

Killer Croc was taken aback by this for a moment before grinning. "Alright. That's a neat little trick there. What're you? A criminal like me?"

"Criminal?" Now that was a word Wulf understood all too well. "You criminal? Hiding?"

Killer Croc let out a light laugh. "You really don't know anything about this town do you? Yeah, I'm a criminal." He nodded. "You?"

Wulf felt a little more relaxed. "Yes. I criminal ankaŭ."

"Well then. I suppose that I can let you stay for now, Wulf. It's good t'meetcha. I'm sure we have a lot to talk about." The lizard man held out his hand to shake. Wulf wasn't entirely certain what Killer Croc had said, but happily took the man's hand and shook it anyway, a big grin on his face.

[wrathofrats]

Aether comforting ifrit after he gets overwhelmed. Taking care of everyone else before himself. Can’t stop to ensure he’s doing alright because someone else needs him more. Zephyr has too much to deal with to stop and take of him, they don’t deserve that burden.

But it’s too much, it always is. Standing in the middle of the kitchen after promising to make lunch for the other ghouls, head feels like static, vision tunneled on the sandwich in front of him. And when he drops the butter knife on the floor it just becomes too much.

Ifrit tries to stop the tears before they come, hot and thick welling up at the corners of his eyes. But he can’t. His hand shakes as he picks up the butter knife, determined to finish his task.

And aether sees, can feel that ifrit was on the brink from a mile away. Just quietly takes the utensil from him, shushing him and telling him that it’s not important, that he can’t finish this in his current state, that the others will understand.

And ifrit just collapses into him. The floodgates opening once aether wraps his arms around him, pulling his head into his shoulder.

[starlight-eclipsed]

Rockets Pointed Up at the Stars (Pt 2/2)

Part I

Despite what Phantom had implied, tracking down Batman wasn’t done in an instant.

Sure, they’d be back seconds after when they left. But with time travel in the mix, that could be hours or days apart. They’d already followed him back to his initial landing time, when Neanderthals were still around (and wow, was there a difference between factually knowing some people had been around since the dawn of humanity and physically seeing Vandal Savage in the flesh as a caveman). According to the trail left by Clockwork, the ghostly guardian of the timestream, they were getting close.

Apparently Bruce couldn’t make things easy and was also making jumps through time, which if left unchecked would cause the timeline collapse that Clockwork had recruited Phantom for. Specifically Phantom, as it turns out the thief that liked messing with him on weekends was also the Master of Space and the King of everything.

(Phantom insisted it was just a title, and he was only king of the Ghost Zone. It just so happened that the Ghost Zone was also known as the Infinite Realms, which contained every reality of every universe in existence.

And he’d won that title by defeating the previous ruler in single combat.

The High King had to scramble to catch Tim when his knees gave out at the realization that he had unknowingly gone toe to toe with someone who made Darkseid look like a toddler in a sandbox. What the fuck, Phantom.) 

As of now, they were waiting for the actual Blackbeard’s ship to dock to investigate the fabled Black Pirate he supposedly fought a week ago, whose description matched Bruce’s. Phantom had gone to grab them something to eat while they waited in a tavern, leaving Tim to save his seat. If someone told him even a week ago that this was where he’d be, Tim would’ve interrogated them for hours to try to figure out what it meant.

But no, he was just sitting at a table in the 18th century, a medallion from the Master of Time hung around his neck, waiting for his hero-turned-king-gone-rogue to return with food while they waited for Blackbeard the legendary pirate to show up. Jason would probably kill to be here in his place.

Tim was broken out of his thoughts when Phantom returned, two bowls of soup in hand and balancing an additional plate of tough-looking bread on his forearm.

They’d been forced to ditch their masks when Puritans tried to have them hanged a century ago, now dressing in more accurate clothing to better blend in. Phantom had apologized for discovering Tim’s real name, going as far as to reveal his own secret identity: a black haired blue-eyed teen named Danny.

“Heads up, it’s gonna be either too salty or bland as wood. I’m pretty sure the cook wanted to strangle me for asking too many questions about the ingredients.”

Tim snorted, accepting his bowl, “Is that why we don’t get spoons?”

“Nah, the owner doesn’t trust customers to return the utensils. Drink from the bowl, though you might want to soak your bread if you don’t wanna pull a muscle chewing it.”

“Noted.” Tim dared to take a sip, mulling over the taste. It wasn’t anywhere near Alfred’s level, but a step above his own adventures in the kitchen before getting a hard ban post-pancake incident. It tasted closer to brine than soup, but it went surprisingly well with the bread.

Phantom hummed in pleasure, proving yet again that his standards for food consisted of ‘isn’t actively resisting consumption’. Tim could hardly judge him for it, seeing as his own bar wasn't much higher.

“So, I’d say we have an hour or two until our man arrives. Want to go over the plan again?”

Tim shrugged. “Unless it’s changed from ‘confirm Bruce was already here before following the nearest skip in time’, I think we’re good.”

Phantom nodded, silence falling over them as they ate their way through dinner. Tim kept an ear out for trouble, but the tavern was quite peaceful this time in the evening. It was likely to change once the Queen Anne's Revenge finished docking, but for now he’d savor the ambiance.

“Wanna play twenty questions?”

He blinked, refocusing on Phantom sitting across from him. “Huh?”

“I just figured it might pass the time. Twenty questions, no lies, though you can reject them if you don’t want to answer.”

Tim considered it before nodding, “Sure. How old are you?”

Phantom grinned, “Seventeen, same as you. Why Robin?”

“I wanted to help Batman after the previous one died. Nobody else would intervene, so I stepped in. Why Phantom?”

“Okay, hear me out…it’s a pun.”

Tim paused, gesturing for him to elaborate.

“Before I was half-ghost, my last name was Fenton. So as a ghost, Danny Fenton became—”

“Danny Phantom,” Tim groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can’t believe I ever thought you were subtle.”

“Hey, nobody expects the dead guy to moonlight as a living person. Sunlight? Whatever. Favorite hobbies?”

“Photography and skateboarding. Favorite power?”

“Ooh, that’s a hard one. I’d have to say flight. Nothing beats flying at night. Sexuality?”

Tim spluttered, making Phantom laugh as he blushed. “What the heck?!”

“Hey, you can always skip,” the asshole offered.

“No, it just caught me off guard. I’m bi. You?”

“Pan. And trans, while we’re at it. Ghosts can shapeshift, so I got a perfect transition at the low cost of death.”

Tim snorted, “Death is an ally.”

“Absolutely, it comes for us all,” he winked. “If you had a single power, what would it be?”

“Something so I wouldn’t need to sleep. I can manage otherwise. What determines the things you take?”

Phantom grinned, “Once a detective. But seriously, I just aim for things that look cool and won’t be missed too much. Some people will kick up a fuss over their trash if they think it’s worth stealing. Thoughts on soulmates?”

He stopped, some part of him catching on how serious the otherwise silly sounding question was phrased. As if the way he answered this could mean life or death. “You mean, a couple acting like they’re made for each other?”

“Ah, I wasn’t sure whether you had them in your universe. On my Earth, everyone is born with some kind of connection to at least one other person. Shared thoughts, a timer countdown to the time they first meet, stuff like that. Platonic or romantic, they were called soulmates.”

“So…someone you’re destined to meet and get along with? Is it magic based?”

A nod. “Humanity’s done research but they haven’t concluded on that yet. I asked an Ancient whose domain was centered around it, and they said it was determined by a soul’s resonance. I don’t know the specifics, but something about how all souls that resonate a certain way are born with soulmarks, so that they have an easier time finding each other. There are studies about how soulmates tend to understand each other easier, but other than that there’s no empirical proof that they’re different from any other relationship.”

Tim considered it. What it might’ve been like, to be told the second he met Dick that fateful night at the circus, ‘this boy will permanently alter the course of your life’. To have been able to approach Batman that first time, point to his wrist, and automatically be listened to instead of resorting to blackmail. How much easier it would have been to avoid the misunderstandings that defined their whole family.

Then again, it would be just his luck to have been born in that world and not have any soul connections to the Wayne family, making him work twice as hard for the same level of trust. Or to be born without resonance at all, and be left knowing that he was truly beyond reach. What would that do to him, in a society where people could point at the worst criminals and say ‘even that monster has someone they love’? To be soulmates with a genuinely terrible person?

“It sounds like a mixed blessing,” Tim said, meeting Danny’s gaze directly. “I would love to have someone like that by my side, and I’d be terrified of being defined by it.”

Danny leaned back, wearing a self-deprecating smile that Tim was quickly learning to recognize. “Yeah, that’s fair. Your turn.”

“What…what is your personal experience with soulmates? If I’m allowed to ask.”

He hissed out a breath through his teeth. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I thought you’d say.”

“I can ask something else?”

Danny waved a hand in dismissal. “I’ll answer, just lemme figure out how to put it.”

“I’ll return our dishes while you think through what you want to say.” Tim stood with his empty bowl, easily accepting the other bowl and plate as they were handed to him.

Walking back, Tim cataloged the people hanging around the tavern. A group of friends huddled around a dozen plates, decked out in gear that made it look like they just finished having some grand adventure. The bartender, a sly smile on her face as a drunken man clumsily flirted with his own wife. The cook instructing a boy to retrieve the dishes from Tim, sending a calculating glance in Danny’s direction before nodding at Tim and turning back to the fire.

Tim didn’t spend a lot of time in public anymore. His fame attracted far too much attention now that the press could consistently recognize him. But maybe once things settled back down again, he’d try civilian life again. There was something different about living alongside the people he worked to save, instead of far above looking down.

By the time he returned to his seat, Danny looked ready to talk.

“My soulmate rejected me when we were little.”

Tim blinked. “You can do that?”

“Ah…sorta? Depending on the connection, one side can choose to shut it down. Mine let us exchange messages. I was a dumb kid, and sent out a ton every day to try and get any kind of response that they were out there. They got sick of it and blocked me.” Danny laughed, but it wasn't very funny.

“I’m sorry. That sounds awful.”

“Don’t be. I annoy everyone—it was only a matter of time before I did something to chase them away.”

“Would you stop doing that?”

Danny blinked, tilting his head in silent question.

“Look, I get that you went through a lot of shit before coming to Gotham. But you keep acting like it’s a given that everyone you meet will be awful to you, and it sucks to hear you talk like that when I’m having fun with you. It wasn't your fault, so stop claiming credit for it. If I can’t justify losing Robin, you can’t justify being abandoned.”

“...alright then.” Danny huffed, folding his arms and pouting. “Neither of us can talk shit about ourselves.”

The twinkle in his eyes was enough for Tim to know he got through to him.

— - —

Tim leaned up against a fence in the Wild West, shifting uncomfortably in his dust coated clothes. Danny was perched beside him, smugly radiating a cool breeze that may very well have been the only thing keeping Tim upright in the summer sun.

“There’s too much sunlight here, it’s unnatural.”

“That’s just your Gothamite showing, city-boy.”

“Fuck off.”

Danny’s laughter had become a staple of the past few days spent traveling through history. In turn, Tim found himself happier than he’d been in ages, making sarcastic comments about anything that caught his eye in an attempt to get Danny to laugh more.

So far, he’d yet to fail to bring at least a smile to the other’s face.

Right now they were in the late 19th century, following rumors that Bruce had somehow crossed paths with Vandal Savage again. It was bordering on ridiculous, and a part of Tim wondered if this was why the legendary criminal stayed well away from Gotham waters. He was going to have to ask Bruce what was up with that after this whole mess was over.

“So,” Danny started, leaning closer to him. “Have any plans for when we’re back in modern day?”

Tim shrugged, “I see a lengthy report to Batman, hours spent explaining everything he missed while he was gone. I swear I’ll be up all week helping him catch up.”

A snort. “I meant about Robin. No offense, but you looked miserable in your new costume.”

He paused. He hadn’t quite processed the knowledge that bringing Bruce back wouldn’t also bring back his role as Robin. It was obvious whenever he actually thought about it, but to him Bruce coming home was still synonymous to going back to how things were before he was lost in time.

“I don’t know…Red Robin was just supposed to be temporary. It was one of Red Hood’s old aliases, not really mine.”

Danny turned to him. “Do you want a new one? If you decide now, we can lay the basis for some local legend to act as future inspiration for the new title.”

Tim elbowed him, “We aren’t messing with the timeline to establish lore for my new identity.”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun! I did it back in my original world, there’s ancient frescos of me winning chariot races and everything.”

“How are you and Clockwork still on speaking terms?”

“Oh, he totally finds it as funny as I do. He just has to pretend to be serious all the time so the Observants don’t crack down on him for shirking his duties.”

“You’re a bad influence on the embodiment of time,” Tim concluded with wide eyes.

A wide grin stretched across Danny’s face as he lied through his teeth. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“How did you even—he’s millennia older than you!”

“Counterparts, remember? It’s not a soul bond, but it’s easy to see ourselves in each other. Besides, time is relative; he's like a weird grandpa-uncle-cousin.”

Tim shook his head, but couldn’t quite force down the laughter in his lungs.

“Hey, I know for a fact I’m not the only bad influence here. No matter how much you claim that sleep is for the dead, I’m physical proof against that.”

“Whatever. You know when the next jump is?”

Danny tilted his head, as if listening for something only meant for his ears. “If Bats already came through here, there’s only two big timesinks left he could be in. Either sometime in the 20th century, or in a designated Vanishing Point.”

“Vanishing Point?”

“Yeah, it’s something of a collaboration between the Observants, Clockwork, and Ghost Writer. Each universe has an archive set right around its eventual heat death. It’s like an empty room in a video game with props the devs left in to keep the system running after inadvertently designing the whole code in reference to a lemon.”

“I…never mind. Why would Batman be there?”

“Oh, ‘cause he’s traveling through time without one of these,” Danny tapped Tim’s chest, right where his Time Medallion lay under his shirt. “They’re designed to safely disperse the energy gained each time we make a jump, among other things. Otherwise we’d just be building up enough to wipe the timeline from existence. Or something like that, I wasn’t really paying attention.”

Tim suddenly realized that this was what his former teammates meant when they complained about him executing strategies without explaining his thought process first. He still stood by his stance that it was more effective to explain things as they happened, but he was developing a new sense of empathy for them.

“Okay. Batman is a time-charged universe level bomb threat, and is getting funneled into the Backrooms so he blows up with everything else in existence. What can we do to stop that?”

Danny blinked. “Sorry, I thought it was obvious. I already carry a medallion with me wherever I go, so I was just gonna have you put the spare Clocky gave me on him to filter it out.”

Yep. This was karma for never giving people the full story behind any of his plans.

“I’m going to need you to go over everything we need to do when we get to this Vanishing Point. Twice.”

“Okie doke! So I’m gonna leave you with my spare medallion to help Bats while I throw down with Darkseid’s hyper-dimensional mind slave he sent after him to ensure his demise—”

Gift baskets. Tim owed so many people gift baskets for putting up with his bullshit.

— - —

When Tim found him, Danny was perched on the same apartment building they’d last met on.

His hood was down, freeing his flaming white hair to burn without heat in the night. His face was turned towards the sky, looking for all like he was somehow stargazing in spite of the thick smog that blanketed the city. It would’ve made for a stunning picture, if not for how soul crushingly lonely the scene felt.

Danny startled when Tim’s grappling hook latched onto the rooftop beside him. The halfa was quick to brighten upon seeing Tim down below, scooting over to make room for him as he reeled in the line and pulled himself up.

“Fancy meeting you here, Detective.”

Tim huffed, readjusting his utility belt. “The others won’t stop pestering me about how Batman was brought back when I shouldn’t have access to any time travel devices. It’s a miracle I was even able to get out of the Batcave without getting smothered.”

“You didn’t tell them about me?”

“You didn’t want them to know.”

Danny looked stunned. He physically shook himself out of it, a glowing green blush rising to his cheeks as he turned away. “Thanks.”

Tim absentmindedly nodded as he smoothly slipped a black marker from his belt while Danny was distracted. This had the potential to either go very smoothly or backfire completely, but it had to be done to sate his curiosity. Now that Bruce was home and he’d gotten the time to think over their conversations, pieces had started to align in his head. It was just a matter of taking the leap and confirming it for himself.

Reaching up to his own cheek, Tim wrote in practiced motions, focusing on the thought of sending it through to whoever was on the other side.

Danny jumped, hand slapping to his own cheek as he whipped his head around to stare at Tim in open shock. He shrugged sheepishly.

“Your description of soulmates was familiar. Between that and the cloak, I really should’ve put it together sooner.”

“You’re…not mad?”

Tim shifted, stashing the marker back in its rightful place. “I wish I knew sooner. I never meant to hurt you—Batman was getting on my case about the writing on my arms being recognizable in costume, and I never thought to wonder why it was happening in the first place.”

Danny shook his head, a wet chuckle escaping his lips. “You couldn’t have known. It would’ve freaked anyone out, getting messages from a different universe on their skin.”

“Neither did you. Know, I mean. Me blocking the connection was never on you.”

“Well…”

“I mean it.”

“Fine, fine. So…does that mean…?”

Tim carefully reached out his hands to grasp onto his soulmate’s, intertwining their fingers. It was remarkable how easily they fit together. “I don’t know if it’s romantic or not, but I’m willing to give it a try if you are.”

Danny collapsed forward into Tim’s arms. He could hardly make out the muffled affirmative, but the message was crystal clear. Leaning down to set his chin on the top of Danny’s head, he let himself savor this moment.

Tomorrow, he could beg Danny to experiment with the extent of their bond. They could talk about new ideas for his hero name, and Danny could get another shot at convincing him to go on a worldwide anti-multi-billionaire tour. The two of them had potentially forever to work out this newfound aspect of their relationship.

For the time being, Tim relaxed back against a chain link fence with his soulmate in his arms, the word ‘BOO’ scribbled in black marker across both their faces.

— - —

And that's a wrap! There's definitely room for more, but these were the all the scenes I wanted to cover ^-^

I think in this universe, Danny and Tim end up working as a slightly morally grey hero duo. They go global for a bit, Tim wanting to train under more people to better keep up with Danny (who follows along invisibly as backup). This eventually gets the attention of Ra's, and you can imagine how that goes XD

They're a bit overly attached; neither of them really have a healthy sense of boundaries, which causes a bit of conflict here and there. Tim is the one that insists on taking breaks to avoid becoming too codependent, which only really results in them deepening the soul bond to a ridiculous degree. Ironically it's during this that Tim discovers how he can send pressure marks through to Danny, who immediately converts it to morse code (oops).

Thanks for reading!

Tag list:

@skulld3mort-1fan @profoundsoulsong @daemonlogical @bobred18 @ashoutinthedarkness @hilariousseagoat @undead-essence @ekatkit @wolfjackle @awkwardmaiden @vehan-tikkun-olam-and-stuff

[epochofbelief]

Strictly Confidential: A Feysand AU

Chapter One

She's a law student turned confidential informant. He's a prosecutor with only one goal: bringing down her boyfriend for illegal activity . . . What could go wrong?

Hi everyone! Here's chapter one. I hope you enjoy. Let me know if you're interested in being tagged. Any thoughts on the story are much appreciated, too!

Chapter One

Feyre collapsed against the wall as soon as class was over. Sweat dripped from her temples, sliding over the layer of concealer she had plastered on that morning. She wiped her forehead, swearing to herself once again that this would be the last time she allowed Tamlin to drag her to a Crossfit class.

Even though she had made and broken that same mental promise to herself three times a week for the past six months.

As she guzzled from her near empty water bottle, Tamlin slung a sweaty arm over her shoulders, his skin against hers slick. Oily. “Got any of that left?” Tamlin asked, already reaching for the water bottle.

Feyre sighed, handing it off to him. “A few drops.”

He knocked it back without another word. Not an appreciative smile. No thank you, Feyre. Not even a nod of gratitude for the water he had taken from her.

As she followed Tamlin out of the warehouse where the Crossfit classes were held, Feyre made another vow. The first of its kind, but perhaps with more resolve behind it than the one she had made only moments ago.

She was going to break up with him this week.

Feyre trailed Tamlin through the parking lot, eyes on the back of his neck, his blonde hair stuck to it with sweat. Her boyfriend of over a year had fallen into conversation with his best friend, Lucien. Lucien was also a regular at these Crossfit classes, but had met Tamlin through work. Tamlin had hired Lucien as his Director of Operations at his company, Spring Solutions. Five years later, the duo were best friends.

Lucien climbed into the passenger seat of Tamlin’s expensive truck, leaving Feyre to haul herself into the back as usual. Tamlin swung into the driver’s seat and made short of work of getting the vehicle out of the parking lot and onto the highway that would carry them back into the city, back to the building where Tamlin and Feyre shared an apartment and Lucien lived a few floors down.

As the two discussed something about work—a topic Feyre didn’t particularly care about—she thought more about the terrifying new task she had set for herself.

Breaking up with Tamlin wouldn’t be simple.

Because it was her life, of course, and things were never simple.

She had shared an apartment with Tam, who was nearly seven years her senior, since the beginning of her second year of law school. Now, a month into her third and final year, their lives were fully intertwined. Feyre paid a few hundred dollars of rent each month, but Tamlin footed most of the bill. The downtown apartment was expensive, something Feyre could never afford on her own thanks to her law student’s budget.

She rarely paid for meals, either. Tamlin subscribed to one of those ultra-healthy meal services. A week’s worth of dinners delivered to their door every Monday morning. Feyre cooked them on study breaks, and the two would usually share a quick meal before Tamlin logged back on to work in his home office and Feyre returned to her books.

Most of the furniture was his, as was the art on the walls. The kitchen utensils, pots, pans. The bed they shared. Everything.

If Feyre moved out, she would have to return to her father’s house or increase the amount of student loans she had already taken out that semester. Neither option sounded appealing. She had lived with her father and her two older sisters her whole life—all throughout her undergraduate studies and until the end of her first year of law school. How she had made it so long trapped in that house, caring for her family in much the same way she cared for Tamlin, Feyre had no idea. So when Tamlin had proposed the idea of moving in together, she jumped at the chance. Didn't think farther than Get me out of my childhood home.

She hadn't considered what would happen if things didn’t work out. If she decided he wasn’t the one for her anymore.

She had gone straight from her father’s house to Tamlin’s apartment, and had fallen into Tamlin’s lifestyle, even if she still wasn’t quite used to it.

At least the bed in the guest room was hers, and the nightstand and the few books she had taken from her father’s house. Her painting supplies.

“Babe?” Tamlin’s voice scattered the plans she was fruitlessly trying to cobble together in her mind.

“What?” She inquired, blinking up at her boyfriend.

“I asked if you wanted to get dinner out tonight.”

Feyre bit her lip. She had already put off studying to come to Crossfit—if she didn’t get home soon, she would have to burn the midnight oil to get all her reading for class done at a decent hour.

“I really have to study,” she said quietly, praying he wouldn’t try to convince her to come to dinner. Because he would never let up and she, inevitably, would give in.

At Tamlin’s sigh, she tentatively tried again. “I’m really sorry! I wish my professors didn’t assign such long readings, but I can’t change it.”

He didn’t say anything.

“You know I would come to dinner if I could. I would much rather do that.” The words weren’t new—she’d used some variation of them numerous times over the past year and a half. They had almost lost all meaning to her, but she’d found this was the best combination to keep Tamlin happy: apologize, provide an excuse that was outside of her control, and assure him that he would always be her first choice.

“Alright. We’ll drop you at home and come back later.”

Feyre choked back her sigh of relief. “Sounds good. Thanks, babe.”

Lucien’s eyes met hers in the rearview mirror—one ginger eyebrow cocking slightly. Feyre looked away, gaze fixing on her lap.

Twenty minutes later, she waved at the car as it sped down the street toward Tamlin and Lucien’s favorite sports bar. With any luck, Lucien would get him drinking beers and talking about work, and she would have at least three hours to herself to shower. Study. Maybe even time enough to feign sleep by the time Tamlin returned.

And indeed, she managed to accomplish everything she needed to do just before Tamlin came stumbling into the apartment hours later. Feyre shut her eyes tight from her spot on the right side of the bed, her fledgling plans swirling through her thoughts until she well and truly drifted away.

-----

The next morning, Feyre gazed at herself in the mirror, turning this way and that to make sure every inch of her suit was clean and pressed to perfection, not a wrinkle in sight. The black jacket clung to her narrow frame, the pencil skirt she wore beneath it as flattering as a skirt that cut her off just below the knee could be. Her golden-brown hair fell in loose waves just past her shoulders, watery blue eyes popping thanks to the brown mascara she had applied.

“You look amazing,” a voice from behind her said.

Feyre turned, smiling at her boyfriend despite all the promises and plans she had made the night before. “Thanks, honey.”

“What’s the occasion?” Tamlin asked, striding forward and placing his hands on her hips.

Feyre stepped back, grinning up at him. “No touching. I have an important networking event with my firm today and I can’t get all wrinkly.”

Tamlin held up his hands, backing away a step. “My apologies, Ms. Archeron.”

Feyre smiled. Tamlin wasn’t always awful.

Just most of the time.

“So when can I expect you home today?”

Feyre sighed, grabbing her backpack and purse and brushing past Tamlin, striding out of the closet and into the master bathroom. “I’ve got a full day of classes, and then this networking event at six. I’m not sure how long it will go, but I’m really hoping to be back by eight.”

“Just as well,” Tamlin said. “I’ve got a late night at work—probably won’t be home until after ten.” Feyre nodded, and Tamlin followed her out of the bathroom, through the bedroom, and down the hall to the kitchen. Feyre grabbed the smoothie she had made earlier that morning and tucked her lunchbox into her backpack.

“Have a good day, honey,” she said, pressing a kiss to Tamlin’s lips. He nipped at her lower lip, green eyes sparking. But Feyre just smiled, retreated, and didn’t breathe deep until she made it to the hallway, door automatically locking behind her.

This week. She was going to do it this week.

Feyre’s day dragged on in one long, miserable slog. She got cold-called by her professors in two of her classes, but she managed to answer most of the questions correctly, her heart thudding violently in her chest all the while.

Cold calls and the Socratic method of teaching were one of her least favorite parts of law school. Most professors gave no warning to their students before they called their names, subjecting them to several questions of the professor’s choosing. If you didn’t know the answer, they might move on. But some waited for you to at least attempt to respond, while the class stared and stared and hands jumped into the air all around, telling you that they knew the answer, that it was obvious. Answering a question correctly felt wonderful—but answering incorrectly usually caused Feyre’s cheeks to burn a bright red.

It didn’t matter how many of the randomly determined “calls” Feyre endured—every time a professor spoke her name, her hands started sweating, her heart rate climbing up and up and up until the professor moved on to another victim.

She spent a few hours at the library after class, tucked in her favorite corner. It was private, but better than sitting in the main quad where most of the law students gathered to study during daytime hours. Feyre hadn’t spent any notable length of time in the quad since the first semester of her 1L year. As her relationship with Tamlin progressed, the few friends she had made faded away as Feyre opted to attend the fancy dinner parties and events Tamlin invited her to. Maintaining a new relationship and keeping up with her studies didn’t leave much time for anything else—not even friends. That wasn’t to mention the time she had spent at home with her sisters and father her entire first year of school, taking care of most of the housekeeping and cooking duties because the rest of her family had “real jobs” and Feyre was still “just a student” who didn’t work a regular 9-5.

Now, she felt like a ghost in the halls of the school. She would wave to her old friends if they passed in the hallways, but Feyre had long ago accepted that this would be her law school experience: sitting in the back of the classroom, answering questions if forced, and generally keeping to herself.

It was a quiet, small existence she led. Class. Tamlin. Attending whatever events or obligations Tamlin dragged her to. Studying.

After she’d had enough studying for the day, Feyre took the train to downtown Prythian, checking her makeup at least four times before the train arrived at its stop a few blocks from a large hotel and event center in the heart of the city. She started to walk the five minutes to the hotel, staring up at the enormous shiny buildings rising around her.

To think, this would be where she worked full-time in just a few short months.

Thanks to competitive firm recruiting, Feyre had had her post-grad job lined up since the summer. She would be starting as a junior associate at Hybern & Night LLP, one of the largest and most powerful national firms in the country. Jobs at Hybern & Night were hard to come by, but thanks to Feyre’s top 5% ranking at Prythian University Law School, and her ability to say all the right things under pressure, she’d scored a job during early interviewing last summer.

The firm occupied the upper floors of one of the tallest buildings downtown. Tonight it was holding a networking event for its partners, associates, recruits, and other lawyers in the community.

She could have skipped the event, but her career counselor had emphasized how important it was to immerse herself in firm activities as quickly as possible—it would make her transition from student to junior associate much smoother, and allow her to make connections with more senior attorneys and partners who might be willing to provide projects for her to work on when she started.

So, she was here, clicking down the shadowed streets of downtown Prythian, gearing herself up to rub elbows with some of the city's wealthiest attorneys.

Some day soon, she would be one of them.

Feyre tugged her coat closer around herself, the chill in the air signaling autumn’s impending arrival. A block away, the windows of the event center glowed warmly in the shadows of the buildings around her. She increased her pace, and soon found herself ensconced in a world of cocktails and arguments. Feyre made a beeline for the refreshments table. She could certainly count on attorneys to ensure there was an open bar at events like this. She seized a glass of red wine and cast her gaze around the room, but didn’t recognize anyone. She had interviewed with at least five of the attorneys from Hybern & Night in order to get her job, but they were nowhere to be seen.

Feyre thanked the man who served her the wine, swallowing back memories of her own time spent as a bartender at Humane, one of the filthiest hole-in-the-wall bars in all of Prythian. She would have preferred talking to the bartender—less posturing required—but forced herself to skirt around the room, looking around for someone to engage in conversation.

She had almost completed a full lap when an enormous man leaned against the wall just in front of her.

“You look lost,” his deep voice rumbled, light brown hair sliding over his forehead, pale green eyes gazing down at her. His cheeks were flushed—probably from the alcohol—and as his eyes slid over her, Feyre was glad she hadn’t yet removed her coat.

“Not lost. Just—” Feyre broke off, shaking her head. “Feyre Archeron,” she said, offering a hand. “I’ll be starting as a first-year associate at Hybern & Night next August.”

“Jax Smith,” he said, an enormous hand encompassing hers. “I'm in my eighth year at Hybern & Night. Hoping to make partner next year. It’s nice to meet you, Feyre.”

Feyre swallowed, taking her hand back and sliding it into her pocket. “You too.” She cast around for one of her pre-prepared questions: So how do you like working at the firm? Any advice for 3L students preparing to enter the workforce? How do you survive the eighty hour workweeks year after year after year? Is the money worth it?

Luckily, Feyre didn’t have to resort to any of her questions, because Jax spoke for her.

“You look awfully young to be a 3L,” he commented, gaze sliding up and down her body.

Feyre cocked an eyebrow, a chill trailing down her spine. “I’m twenty-three.”

“That’s young.”

Feyre gritted her teeth. This was certainly unprofessional. “Not too young, I hope,” she said, forcing a smile. This man was going to be her coworker. She couldn’t just turn around and flee. “I’ll be twenty-four this December,” she said brightly. “Practically collecting Social Security.”

Jax didn’t smile. Only narrowed his eyes like he was trying to see through her coat.

Feyre swallowed another gulp of wine, and as he inched closer, she realized that the alcove where they stood was mostly obscured by two of the many enormous columns ringing the event center. There weren’t any lights in this section, and no one else seemed to be paying them any attention. The rest of the networking attorneys seemed miles away, even the sounds of their voices muffled by a dull roaring that started in Feyre’s head as Jax’s gaze fixed her in place.

“And are you married, Feyre?” Jax asked, one arm resting on the wall next to her head. His gaze dropped to her left hand, wrapped around the stem of her wineglass, her fourth finger obviously bereft of any ring.

“No,” she said, backing away another step.

But her admission only seemed to encourage Jax. He slid forward, eyes focused somewhere just south of her neck, where her coat had fallen open to reveal the v-neck of her dress shirt. “I would be happy to meet you for a coffee sometime. Maybe even a drink. Tell you more about the firm, away from all these stuffy partners. We could even find somewhere quieter here. To talk.” His eyes slid to the hall that led who-knew-where, just behind Feyre, stretching off into the shadows of the hotel.

Feyre’s eyes widened, a lump forming in her throat. This man was her future coworker, her senior. He might even be partner by the time she started at the firm. To turn him down could be fatal. If he took offense, he could spin it any number of ways: She had no interest in learning more about the firm. Couldn’t care less about team-building and getting to know her coworkers. Clearly came for the wine and nothing else.

He could ruin her reputation. And that was something she couldn’t afford. Not if she ever wanted to be free of Tamlin, of her family.

“What do you say?” Jax asked, bending down, his face so close to hers she could feel his breath hot against her cheek.

“I—” Feyre started.

But another man’s voice, smooth as velvet and gentle as the night, floated into the alcove, startling Jax and sending a wave of relief over Feyre.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

[coldfanbou]

Breeding Bull

Here's the Sohee piece; sorry it's a bit late. So here we have the tale of a cheating wife trying to get pregnant through any means necessary. Well, you can probably figure that out when you read it. Anyway, there is cheating and breeding.

Length 1.8K

Sohee x Mreader

You wait at the door of your new neighbor's apartment. They had invited you over for a meal sometime after they moved in, and you found it difficult to refuse. The woman, Sohee, had kept pushing you to come over. She would only leave once you agreed. The door opens for you, and Sohee stands there with a giant grin plastered on her face. You try to seem happy about being there. "Hi, Sohee; nice to see you again."  She immediately takes your hand and pulls you inside.

"It’s nice to have you over. Follow me." Sohee leads you to the dining room, never letting you go. She turns to you, "I hope you'll like the meal. I've been working on it all day." As you reach the dining room, Sohee puts you in your seat before heading to the kitchen. You sit there looking around the room. Sohee had already set out utensils, and the place was spotless. She had spent what must have been hours cleaning. Your fingers run along the dinner table before you begin nervously tapping on it. Her husband walks in from another door; he looks shocked at seeing you sitting there. 

"Who are you, and what are you doing in my house?" He asks.

"I'm your neighbor." You say with some skepticism. He should know that. Sohee had mentioned that her husband recommended inviting you over. "...I was invited here by Sohee."

"Sohee never told me about this." He states before heading to the kitchen. You can't hear the conversation, and a long time passes before the man returns. He takes a seat at the table, looking incredibly angry. The tension in the room makes the situation uncomfortable. You keep your head down while you wait. Eventually, Sohee returns carrying the food she has cooked. She places the plates of food in front of both of you before returning to the kitchen. She repeats this process until many dishes cover the table. At the very end, Sohee brings out two bottles of wine, one much larger than the other. 

She hands her husband a glass before grabbing the smaller of the two bottles. "Here, honey, let me pour you a drink." She says as she pours a large amount of the alcohol for him. He remains silent, shifting the wine in his glass before drinking it all in one swift motion. He grumbles something before beginning to eat. Sohee pouts, "Can't you say something? I gave you the better wine." He remains silent. Sohee places the small bottle on the table and picks up the larger one pouring you both a glass. She hands you your glass before taking her seat at the table; you take a swig of the wine, eventually drinking a few glasses. The feeling of the room is a mix of frustration and infatuation as Sohee watches you carefully. Her husband continues munching on his food, and you and her begin soon after. As you eat, you feel something touching your crotch; as you glance across the table, Sohee hides her mischievous smile from her husband. Her foot slowly moves up and down the length of your half-hardened cock. You glance at her husband, his head in his hands; it looks like he's struggling. As your gaze returns to Sohee, she puts a finger to her lips and winks at you. 

"Just enjoy," she mouths. Sohee continues to eat, bringing a spoonful of rice to her mouth. Her pink lips close around the end of the spoon, and you watch her slowly pull it out of her mouth. Her tongue sneaks its way out of her mouth as it rubs against the bottom of the spoon. All of her actions seem sexually charged now; they all work to arouse you. She smiles as you watch her. Her foot continues to rub your cock as you watch her sensually eat.  A sudden thud on the table distracts you. Sohee's husband is on the table, unconscious. He had collapsed on the table; he was still breathing, from what you could tell. The next thing you know, Sohee is at your side.

She leans over, her hand over your clothed bulge. "Don't worry about him. He's just a lightweight; the smallest bit of alcohol will do that to him. Why don't you come with me? I can take care of your little friend here." Sohee latches onto your arm and pulls you up. "Let's get to my bedroom. I'll even slip into something more comfortable for you." You don't resist; you're becoming entranced by Sohee. Her soft breasts press against your arm as you walk toward her bedroom. Once you get to her bed, she heads to the bathroom, saying, "Why don't you get comfortable too? I'll be right back." You follow along, taking off your clothes before lying on the bed.

When Sohee returns, she's wearing only a sheer nightgown. It's a very light blue and shows off every part of her body. Her small buds stand erect, and her nether region is completely smooth and shaven. Still standing in the doorway, she turns to the side, allowing you a view of her shapely ass. She giggles, "Liking what you see?" She asks as she slowly walks toward you. 

"You look amazing." That’s all you can get out as you stare at her body. How you couldn't recognize her beauty earlier is a complete mystery to you. As she gets closer, you notice her thighs glistening as her juices run down her legs. 

"I don't think I can wait any longer," Sohee says as she crawls onto the bed. She climbs over you until your cock rubs against her lower lips. She's kneeling over your cock; Sohee grasps your cock and runs the head between her folds. Her juices coat your cock as they drip down from her slit. Sohee's moans flood your ears as she grinds on the tip of your cock for what seems like forever. In reality, it was only a few seconds. Sohee sinks down on your cock. Her pussy welcomes you, caressing every part of your cock as she takes more of you in. You both moan, the feeling driving you wild.

When Sohee's buried your cock inside her, you can't help but start thrusting, giving her no chance to adjust. You reach for her ass and squeeze the soft flesh. Your grip tightens as you slam Sohee down on your cock. She holds onto your arms as you use her. "Yes! Give me your cock!" She shouts before her body collapses on top of you. She forces a kiss upon you, her tongue desperately trying to break past your lips. "I've wanted you for so long." She moans. You feel her walls tighten around your cock, squeezing you with great force. "I've wanted this cock for so long, and you didn't even know." Sohee's tight body twitches as she bounces quickly on your cock. "Oh god, I'm gonna cum!" She screams. 

Sohee grabs your head and pulls on your hair as she cums on you. Her back arches, and she throws her head back. "Oh fuck," She groans as you continue your thrusts. You feel your orgasm coming as you drive your cock deeper into her, a bulge where your cock is, is apparent. Your thrusts continue, and you hold onto Sohee's hips as you slam her down. "Cum inside me. Breed me, get me pregnant with your baby!" She yells as she drops herself on your cock. Your throbbing cock releases wave upon wave of sperm into Sohee's awaiting womb. She drops her upper body on top of yours, wrapping her arms around your head. "Your cum is so hot, and you pumped so much into me." She whispers into your ear. "I'll definitely get pregnant; I can feel your sperm swimming in me." Sohee's words in her breathy voice arouse you, and your cock hardens in her.

She climbs off you and turns around, "You liked touching my ass; why don't you fuck me from behind." Sohee raises her ass into the air, shaking it to taunt you into fucking her again. You couldn't resist; grabbing it earlier made you want it more. 

You position yourself behind Sohee; your hand runs across her ass before you spank her once. She yelps from the hit, "Fuck me, and you can play with my ass as much as you'd like." At those words, you ready your cock, impaling Sohee's cunt with it. In one smooth motion, you're once again buried inside her. Your cum provides the perfect lubrication as you thrust like a madman. You dig your hands into Sohee's ass while thrusting into her tight pussy. Sohee arcs her back further, allowing you to push deeper. Her moans grow louder, and she clings to the bed sheets as you send your cock crashing into her womb. You repeatedly spank her ass, turning it a bright red. The soft flesh feels great when you choose to grope it. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Sohee chants as she cums again. Her head falls to the side as she weakly moans for you to cum inside her again. "More, please fill me again." 

You lean beside her, "You'll have my baby." 

"I'll have your baby; just give me more," she responds. Her body is nearly limp as you drive your cock back into her. Feeling your orgasm building, you pull back Sohee's arms and pump your cock into her petite body with the speed of a piston. Drool spills from Sohee's mouth as she begs for you to cum. As you cum you force your cock as deep as you can. Her small body struggles to contain it all, spilling out of her used pussy. Releasing her arms, she drops onto the bed. When you pull out your cum flows out of her like a river. You fall to her side and immediately fall asleep.

The following day you wake up in your room. You look around, wondering how you got there. On your nightstand, you find a note. "Thanks for last night, hun." She signs off with a heart. You see her every so often when she passes by. She'll usually give you a small wave and a knowing wink.

Months later, you see her walking around the neighborhood with her belly now sufficiently swollen. She looks around before coming up to you. She whispers into your ear, "I hope you know this baby is yours." She takes your hand and rubs her belly with it. "It’s all yours, but don't worry. I won't tell anyone. My husband thinks it's his. He doesn't remember that night." Her hand leaves you as she reaches for your cock. "If you want, we could always have sex again, even if I am pregnant." A twisted smile on her face. She looks into your eyes. "Or do you want to wait until I've given birth so you can pump another baby into me? We could have another dinner party." Seeing that you weren't going to answer, she cups your cheek. "You don't have to answer now; just let me in when I visit you later." With that, she walks away, holding onto her belly.

[queercoshon]

So this next story I'll be posting in 2 parts. The second part will definitely be racier. Based very loosely on a prompt given by @bigtobiggest Sorry if it's not exactly what you were looking for! The story ran away from me lol.

Without further ado, I present

A Kept Play Thing Pt. 1

CW: teasing/name calling, intox

Life has been a blur since you moved in with your girlfriend. It had been at least a few months, but less than a year of living with Olivia. However, you aren't exactly sure how much time has passed.

You remember moving in. You remember feeling exhausted hauling all those boxes in, and your girlfriend telling you to sit and rest. You remember Olivia giggling, but still concerned, as you huffed and puffed, trying to help lift the new couch up the few front steps. You remember feeling like your little pot belly was getting in the way. You remember finally collapsing on the couch and the celebration that followed.

Everything was moved in, but not unboxed and certainly not organized. Olivia had lived in the house for a few years already, so there were kitchen utensils, but she claimed exhaustion as well and put in an order to your favourite pizza place.

While waiting for it to arrive, she grabbed a box of craft ciders from the fridge and plopped them on the floor between you. She handed you a cherry one, which you chugged back gratefully. God, you were thirsty after all that exercise. You let out a belch, and she smirked and patted your belly, shaking loose a few more burps. She handed you another can while she went and got your housewarming present; a brand new gorgeous bong. It was different shades of blue and looked almost like stained glass. By the time she had ground the flower and held it to your mouth, the second cider was gone.

A few bong rips and you were soaring, and so hungry. By the time the pizza arrived, you'd consumed half a bag of oreos and another 2 ciders to deal with your cottonmouth.

Olivia handed you your large pizza and kissed your forehead, making you blink your eyes and smile dumbly.

"Eat up, baby. You're starving."

And you were. So you dove in, swallowing so fast and chewing so little Oliva was afraid you would choke. She kept interrupting your hoovering with the bong and endless cider sips, which you accepted every time.

She finished her personal sized pizza as you got lost in a haze, freely hiccupping, burping, and letting out little moans. Her hands fondled your belly, now sticking out of your shirt entirely.

You both knew the other person was very into this. Part of moving in together was influenced by your desire to let go, and your girlfriend's desire to blow someone up into an obese play thing. She already loved the contrast of your plush, curvy body, now just a little too big for size L clothing, up against her lithe and visibly muscular physique. She held the last piece of your pizza to your mouth, desperately eager to make you so much bigger.

You don't remember anything else from that night. You don't remember much of anything since then, really. Day blends into night and back into day for you. You wake at random times. Sometimes Olivia is home, sometimes she's not. There is always food for you, and always paired with booze and weed.

If Olivia's home, she helps you gorge by feeding you when you lose momentum, holding your chin up to take another swig when your head starts to lull, lighting your bong and countless joints, and rubbing your expanding gut to make some room and ease the ache. She makes sure your mouth is never idle. Often, you'll pass out in a drunken food coma mid-chew.

If she's out, either at work, the gym, out with friends, or shopping, she's set the expectation that everything she set out better be gone when she gets back.

You'll often crack open your eyes, and belch as you try to roll over, still drunk and/or high. But that won't stop you from reaching over to the night table and popping the tab on a beer or chugging back whatever mixed drink Olivia left for you. Your head spins as you light a joint, and even though you're still stuffed from when you previously passed out, you salivate as you look at the push cart beside you.

You're not sure, but you think the amount of food on it is growing. When you started this, she would leave enough food for 2 people plus leftovers, like an extra large pizza or stack of pancakes with bacon and sausage on the side. You would of course do as you were told and devour everything, rendering you speechless and breathless, temporarily beached in your bed or on the couch.

As the amount on the tray grew, so did you, though you were barely aware of it. You knew you were gaining weight, but you didn't register just how much and how quickly it happened. Your pot belly grew into a rounded gut, always taking up real estate on your thickened thighs. Your arms fattened up and stretched all your sleeves. Your chin quickly grew into three that shook and jiggled with every bite. Your chest sat on top of your belly, little mounds of sensitive flesh Olivia loved to play with to get you riled up. You wore just your underwear, or constantly new sweatpants and t-shirts. Olivia never sized up any of your jeans or nicer clothes. You never left the house so there was no point.

[afyrian]

phase 8 - the oikawa family m.list

    the microwave sends out a few more beeps, waiting patiently for you to come retrieve your lunch. tapping the bottom of your pen against your coffee table, your mind lingers on the article in front of you. 'oikawa family to inherit company after death of ceo' highlights under your mouse, finger hovering over the mouse. 

  after taking a minute to deliberate, you press down on the link, letting the page refresh to a tech-based journal. below the article's title is a photo of the oikawa family, including a preteen tooru in the corner. he has the same shit-eating grin on his face that he has every time the two of you interact. in the image's description, it says the man with his arm around oikawa's shoulders is his grandfather.

  looking at the name, you open a new tab, the microwave beeping again. typing in 'shin oikawa' comes up with far too many results. most search results end in his death, some about his life, but one mentions his company. pressing it, you find yourself bombarded with articles talking about 'kawa technologies'. one about an accident in their factory, another mentioning his death once more.

  tapping the company's website, you wait patiently for the outdated webpage to load. for being a company specializing in technology, you notice that they don’t seem to particularly care about their online presence. scrolling down to the bottom of the homepage reveals nothing besides the key words 'government affiliate'. 

  biting your lip, you hear the microwave beep again, finally pushing the laptop away from you to grab your lunch. walking across the kitchen in a pair of kuroo's old socks, you glide with each step, his plaid button up protecting your arms from the apartment's crisp air. pulling open the microwave, you can see that your food didn't retain its heat.

  letting out a sigh, you stuff it back in, setting the microwave to a minute. hopping up onto a kitchen counter, you lean against one of the upper cabinet's door. closing your eyes, you get only a moment of peace before your phone starts buzzing in your pocket. pulling it out, you can see kuroo's face on the screen, his contact name written across the top. "hello?"

  "you had lunch yet?"

  "microwaving some leftovers now," you set your phone down on the counter, placing it to speakerphone as you get up to get your food out, "why are you asking?"

  "you have enough for me?"

  "no, it was just a little leftovers. if you want to grab food or something i have some cereal or like frozen waffles," you grab the microwave's handle and pull open the microwave to find your now warm lunch that let a warm umami smell into the air.

  the line goes silent for a second, your hand fishing for a fork from your utensils drawer. “well i meant something more fulfilling, like an actual meal. with like proteins so your body doesn’t collapse?” kuroo questions, the sound of a car honking their horn going off in the background, “but if you have nothing, you mind if i come around for dinner? you could help me study.”

  carrying your phone and bowl back to the living room, you bite your lip, “fine, if you stop judging my food choices… and i’ll only help study if you come to the grocery store with me this weekend. my milk is so spoiled.”

  “deal. i’ll grab takeout in a few hours, oh and how’s the articles going? you find anything else out?” kuroo peppers you with questions, walking down the street as he speaks, and you can practically feel the fall air through the phone.

  staring down at your laptop, you stare at the articles. the ones highlighting the company, the mystery behind oikawa’s grandfather’s death, and its history with the government… a part of you wonders if oikawa’s behind something. if akaashi could be right about someone pretending to be him, that would point directly to him and his family’s company. 

  deep down you know you should tell kuroo. that you should explain how you’re having doubts, fears about the very thing everyone else warned you about. and yet the words can’t seem to reach past your mouth, “no, not much ‘suro. he really is an enigma, but something just doesn’t seem right.”

  “well keep listening to that journalist integrity before dinner and i may just grab you chiffon cake for dessert… although no promises i won’t eat it before getting there, n/n,” he closes the conversation with a ‘see you later’, leaving you sitting in front of your dinner.

  taking a bite of your lunch, you stare at the ‘government affiliate’ wording at the bottom. you could only make so many guesses on how a vaguely described tech company could possibly do with the government. from machinery to tech for the military, you think back to eclipse floating off the ground. 

  unzipping your backpack, you grab out a notepad and pencil. at the top you write down various ideas like ‘levitation devices’ and ‘propulsion’. clicking back onto the general search’s page, you click on one of the articles surrounding the owner’s death. there’s photos of the surrounding crime scenes, nothing actually depicting his death.

  from what you read, he was found dead in his office. it was ruled a murder due to the wounds found on his body. there was blood splattered across his office drawers and computer, deep cuts across his stomach and chest. your fork rests in the bowl, mind too focused on the story to turn away. “the family was questioned but no charges were drawn,” you whisper out loud as you read the final sentence.

  your heart starts beating in your ears, saliva building in your throat. they have the motive, with the family being big enough, even the means. giving them that sort of money and power could change things behind the scenes, especially if one of them decided they wanted to trick the people of tokyo. pursing your lips, you start to realize that the oikawa family, mostly toru, seem to be at the center of it all. 

taglist (open): @eggyrocks @causenessus @applepi25 @unhelpfulnpc @phoenix-eclipses

@iiwaijime @cupidsblonde @yogurtkags @s1ckntw1st3d @mfcherry

@just-coreee @cherrypieyourface @csbnova @keeboismine @nekozaki

@k0z3me @gigiiiiislife @pookalicious-hq @ghostreader0307

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Walls Broken Down ~Broken!Rita Calhoun xFem Younger!Reader

Summary— AU where Rita is friends with a young Reader (thinking 20s, whereas Rita’s in her mid to late 40’s). Rita has a past that haunts her, and one day it just all becomes too much. Reader is there for Rita as much as she can be.

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: angst, implied anxiety attack, past trauma, implied small mental breakdown, fluff, age gap (all legal), comforting, physical comforting, happy ending fluff, etc.

Enjoy (;

She knew you hadn’t meant to. All you had done was brush her shoulder as she had walked past Rita to grab some utensils. But now Rita could feel herself trembling in her own kitchen. She could feel her knees wobbling and her lip trembling. Before she knew it, she was collapsing back against the pristine marble top counter, falling to the accented floor with her back to the dark walnut cabinets.

Waves of raw pain crashed over the woman. She could feel the tears already surfacing as the memories punched her in the gut, one after the other relentlessly. Memories of him. A past too terrifying to reconcile. Him invading her senses once more. Him taking advantage of her once more. Him, the man who had ruined her for anyone else. She felt so numb. She felt so violated. She felt so used. Rita’s mind replayed painful memory after painful memory, not able to stop. That one singular touch had sent her mind into a spiral.

As Rita came crashing down to the floor, you had dropped what you were doing and had rapidly approached the shaking brunette. But as you kneeled down to comfort and check in with her, you had extended your hand to the women’s back. Rita instinctively withdrew with sharp skill, a horrifying instinct drilled into her. She sucked in a breath as she avoided your touch, like it was a hot, scalding iron rod, curling up with her arms around her retracted knees.

Rita closed her eyes, and a tear escaped her left eye as she recalled all the haunting memories of her past, the ones that she had thought had surely been buried long ago. Seemingly not. Her limp, curled up form floated back to that day. All those years ago, she had been so young. She had been so innocent, kind of like you. Your touch hadn’t even been that bad, hadn’t even been intentional. But it didn’t matter. A flood of sadness came over the woman next, filling every sense of her being in a depressive state.

Rita couldn’t stop the following downpour of tears that emerged from her form. She curled even tighter into herself, shaking violently on the ground. In the back of her mind, she could vaguely hear you calling out her name in appropriate concern. But the ringing pain in her head was louder. The brunette sat on her kitchen floor; her tears ran down her body and pool on the ground. She managed to peek out of her cocoon, but she couldn’t look at you. Instead, her reeling mind tried to grasp the surroundings around her. From her position, She could see the heights of her living room, where her Bloomingdale curtains had once hung, but now with her remodel, all there remains are the new, empty gold drapery rods waiting for new, luxurious drapes to cover the glass wall. She tried to focus on those, the drapery rods.

Her mind was an abyss. Her life was a failure. Why did she even try? It was useless. She was useless. Part of Rita knew that was not true, but that part was currently tied up, duck-taped, and thrown in a closet, door locked and key lost. The new and improved part of her that she had spent curating was thrown aside. The new coats of platinum white on her walls were stripped to reveal the mundane beige of her college youth. This wasn’t your fault. It was her own. She deserved this. She deserved all of this. She cringed internally at how pathetic she was behaving, at how pathetic she was.

After a god awful amount of time of sobbing on the tile floor, Rita eventually could produce no more tears. She sniffled and slowly raised her head from her defensive curl towards you. And she was immediately met by your eyes dazzling with concern and naivety. You looked up to her like a mentor and here she was breaking down in the middle of her kitchen. How pathetic. Rita felt a pang of guilt ripple through her as you attempted to speak to her once more.

“Hey, Rita…Are you okay…?”

But Rita was in no state for verbal coherence. She nodded, as her lip trembled. She felt so small. Even though she was taller than you, even though her build was stronger than you, even though she was decades older than you, Rita still felt small. She felt like she was small enough for the world to swallow her whole without anyone noticing. She felt like she was small enough for him to come back and for her to not be able to fight back.

Your eyes softened as you nodded and cautiously extended a hand to the brunette. Rita couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped her lips at the kind gesture. That alone made her want to cry again. She slowly reached out and gingerly took your hand. With your help, the woman stood up on her wobbly legs. She took a deep breath as she stood. You didn’t know what happened, what was happening. But you were determined to be there for Rita.

Rita’s thoughts were still swimming, but now she had an anchor. Now, your consenting touch was keeping her tethered to reality. As you guided her to sit down by the kitchen island, Rita took deep breath after deep breath. She now knew that she couldn’t continue to ignore her past like this. No matter how many properties she owned, no matter how many times she remodeled and tried to cover it all up, no matter how many times she rebought her entire wardrobe, it would never go away. No, she had to properly heal. And as she squeezed your hand in gratitude and reassurance, she knew that she would be alright.

~~~

Rita Calhoun Masterlist

[twainxavier]

Last Line Tag Game

Tagged by @embroiderling and @samsalami66 thank you both! 😻

So, this is Dead Boy Detectives related (of course it is 🤣👌) and is from an upcoming Catwin Academic Rivals Dark Academia AU fic (so many buzz words 👀) Hope you like it! 🔎💀👻😻👑

TW: Homophobic slurs, bullying, threatening language

When it came back to him, he took a steadying breath, and gave a nod. He watched as Thomas’ feet led the way to the door, and then kept on walking as he followed. Edwin kept his head down all the way back to his old flat. The entire way there he couldn't help but wonder how on earth the two of them were going to move everything he had from one room to the other. It wasn't a huge amount, but it was still probably a lot, and he really didn't want to be in that place any longer than he had to be. He cursed his shaking hand as he raised his key to the lock on the flat door. He could hear voices behind the door, and he just had to hope that it wasn't Simon and any of his friends. He should have known any luck he had had long since ran out by now. “Oh look! The pussy is back! Where have you been, pussy?” a voice Edwin now recognised as Richie's rang out from the other end of the flat. He almost just collapsed on the spot, but then he felt Thomas’ presence behind him. With a breath he forced himself to stay standing and ignore the fear if just so he would not seem as weak as he felt. Instead he just went straight to his door and unlocked it. But before he managed to slip inside, he heard Thomas' voice. “Pussy. Interesting choice of word. I don't see any cats around here, just a bunch of bitches.” Edwin froze on the spot, shocked that Thomas would even try to stand up to these people. He finally looked up at his face again, but all he got was a soft smile. “You go pack your room up. Got anything you want from the kitchen?” Thomas asked, voice light as if he hadn't just called Edwin's attackers bitches. Before he could even formulate a reply for Thomas, Simon's voice interrupted. “So the fag has a bodyguard now?” It was a snide remark, but it lacked the venom it had the previous night. Thomas didn't even look away from Edwin, nor did he drop the gentle smile, so Edwin decided to just follow suit in ignoring Simon and his friend and answered Thomas' question. “Yes, mainly my plates and utensils,” Edwin said, pointing out where to find those things whilst giving Thomas a box. He didn't want to go anywhere near that kitchen again, so Thomas offering to go for him was a blessing he wasn't going to ignore. “Perfect,” Thomas still smiled at him, but Edwin saw it drop the instant he turned towards the kitchen. “I am a friend, not a bodyguard, but what makes you ask that, hmm? You think he needs a bodyguard?” Edwin couldn't see Thomas' face any longer, but he could hear a coldness to his voice that he had never heard before. Just before he shut the door to his room, he heard his attackers backpedal fast in a chorus of murmured ‘no’s.

So there we go, just a hint of protective Thomas, and he's going to say a lot more unhinged things whilst they move Edwin out of this flat 👀

I'm gonna tag @pumpkinkingsalem @stardustloki @seiya-starsniper and @here-be-bec and anyone else who feels like joining in 😻 No pressure of course! Have fun with it!