#he looks so much like his mom...................

[meo-eiru]

Since I'm busy working on a valentines day drawing I thought we could do something different until I'm done with that. Trivia night! I'll be writing what's basically a compilation of fun facts we've already established or haven't learned yet. We will also learn more about their backstories.

For tonight we have Silas

Silas has a mom and dad but isn't close with neither of them

As a child he was quite needy compared to other elven kids

Elves almost never stray too far away from the elven village but Silas liked to play in the depths of the forest

He learned about humans from a story book he found while playing in the forest

He was amazed by the colorful imagery and the familial relationship depicted in the book and wanted to have the same, which kickstarted his human hyperfixation

He's currently the most knowledgeable elf in humans within the village

His house is located quite far away from the village, he can still reach there by walking but it's not somewhere where the other elves can just stumble upon

He likes sweet things like fruits or honey but dislikes the taste of meat so doesn't feed it to you much as well

He, just like the other elves, while natural with most other living things, hates all demonic creatures

He's very nice and sweet with you but wouldn't glance twice at other forest creatures and is actively hostile towards demons

Of course he would never let you see him make that kind of face

He thought of using magic to make you live as long as he does but it feels like tempering with your humanity so if you die he's planning to die with you

He's actually not that good at magic compared to other elves, he just knows the basics and relies on books for the rest

He's average height for an elf

He doesn't like leaving bite marks or hickeys on your body because it feels like dirtying your perfect form

But he really likes it when you mark his skin, whether they are hickeys or wounds

While more compassionate than other elves, Silas does have a bit of a superiority complex like them

For example, unlike other elves he does see the intelligence of humans but would still say elves are smarter

He doesn't have any ill intentions with it, to him it's just like saying a unicorn is be better than a horse

He doesn't like eating carrots because he thinks they look like elf ears

He loves learning more about you but dislikes hearing about your family

He doesn't want you to have pets, only the two of you are allowed inside his house

He does have a bathroom in his house but it's just a replica of what he saw in books and isn't actually that functional

If you want to use the bathroom for your baths instead of the river like he does, he just carries the water from the river to his house then uses magic to make it rain on you like a shower head

Even if you don't allow him inside the bathroom he still watches from the window

He has a diary where he writes everything you do in a day, from what activities you did to how many times you blink on average

If you offered to live in a human city with him he would refuse, while he likes humans you are his utmost priority and it's better for you to be inside his house away from everyone's reach

[kianamaiart]

tattoo tour!

got some asks about my own tattoos! i've talked about em on my other blog but not here i think

opihi shell

this was my first tattoo! when i was little, my grandma would call me her "little opihi" because i'd stick by her side all the time and i thought it'd be an appropriate and meaningful tattoo to get.

________________________

team rocket rose

another tattoo i designed along with @/loinktattoos on insta. dedicated to my love for jessie, james and meowth. it's a rose with a blast off star and a "TR" in the leaf~

________________________

tsuta mon

my japanese side of the family's crest! my brother, mom and i all have it~

________________________

lignum vitae flower

a tattoo of jamaica's national flower to celebrate my jamaican heritage. tattooed by @/loinktattoos and designed by @/sablingart on twitter

________________________

doughnut

it's the doughnut from the kpop girl group twice's song "doughnut" LOL. it's maybe my favorite song ever (?). they also raaarely play their japanese songs outside of japan but i got to hear it live and it solidified my love for the song

________________________

arbok tattoo

much like how i love team rocket, i love arbok. i sometimes draw jessie with an arbok marking tattoo on her chest and i considered doing that too but doing it on my wrist seemed like a nice placement. plus i can make my hand look like a snake and i think that's fun

________________________

brushstroke tattoo

my first purely aesthetic tattoo and also my biggest piece! i found @/reina.asami's work on instagram and instantly fell in love with their style. a lot of their work centers around japanese culture and specifically japanese american culture. i had such a lovely conversation with them about being mixed and my experiences. we also talked about the irony of honoring our japanese heritage with tattoos haha

________________________

botan hanafuda card

one of my favorite games to play with my grandparents on my japanese side is hanafuda! i've always loved how pretty the cards looks and all the different flowers. each suit corresponds to a month and the botan is for june (my birth month)

________________________

bat

i like bats hehe. i had a tattoo themed birthday party last year where my friends made "kiana themed" tattoos and we put them on temporary tattoo sheets. but also @/loinktattoos was there to give anyone who wanted a real tattoo a real tattoo. and i got a bat designed by one of my best friends @/ghostbri, who shares my love of bats~

________________________

botan

i came across @/miyookstatto's instagram a while back and reaaaally wanted a tattoo from her at some point. problem was she was based in seattle. however! i had a wedding in seattle coming up and tried to see if i could book an appointment the day i landed and she happened to have a spot open!

________________________

wobbuffet

my most recent tattoo and maybe one of the most special. my brother and i have been wanting matching tattoos for yeaaaars but couldn't really think of anything to get. our love for pokemon was always something we had in common but he models and can't have anything copyrighted on his body. however, one of his favorite pokemon is ditto and i got the idea to just do its face because you could argue that it's just a smiley haha. so i decided to get just a wobbuffet face to match! what made it special is that we were able to tattoo each other! he did stick and poke for mine and i got to use a machine which was rad.

that's all for now!! i want more so badddd. definitely want a back piece at some point and would also love to get a little shooting star to commemorate making "i don't want to be a magical girl"

[harbours-lighthouse]

Jason Todd doesn't know how to love softly. He can't. It's just not in his nature. He died trying to save his mom, despite the fact that she gave him up. That's not a quiet act of love. That’s akin to screaming it.

I love you! I love you! I love you! I will die because of it!

And even when he comes back, he still loves loudly. It's just that love and hate are intertwined. He loves so much that it hurts, and he can't stand it. He loves Bruce and the life he had for such little time, that it hurts and he hates it. He loathes it because he shouldn't care, and yet he does. After everything that's happened, he hasn't forgotten it all.

And then there's you, and he doesn't know what to do. He loves you in a way that hurts, but it feels right.

You feel right.

So it all falls naturally into place. He loves you so much that his body is stumbling to keep up with his heart. You look his way, and you send his thoughts running a mile a minute.

He's not screaming, 'I love you!' over rooftops, but he might as well. He opens doors for you and stands on the right side of the road. He fixes that strange whine in your car and stays up all night with you when you have to study. When you come home after a night out, he's holding your hair back while you're bent over the toilet—not saying anything, but he's there, grounding you. When you kiss him, he grapples you closer to him like you might simply vanish. His eyes crease around the corners when he sees you in the kitchen, humming to yourself. He throws his head back with booming laughter because you bring it out of him.

And when he's out for patrol, he's thinking of you, and it's cost him a few times. He glances down at his watch, and he knows exactly what you're doing at 10 PM. He knows your routine just as intimately as the touch of your fingertips against his skin.

He doesn't buy you flowers, because those die, and chocolates are gone within a week. Maybe less.

So, Jason Todd loves loudly in that private sort of way where only you feel it in all of its intensity. But he loves so loudly that it echoes, and those who know him can see it.

Jason Todd loves loudly because it lasts, and it's heard.

You hear it.

[nerdygirlramblings]

The 141 and being "our wife" (for @beloveds-embrace based on this)

You're up to your elbows in flour, prepping the dough for Yorkshire pudding, when you hear the rumble of an engine in the drive. You wait until it's followed by four thunks before drawing in a deep breath.

Just as you're about to shout up the stairs, you hear a set of footsteps thunder down from the second floor.

"Dad's home!" your oldest, Kinsey, shouts to you.

"I heard hunny," you call back. "Can you get the door? I'm sure Papa's going to have a bunch of things with him."

"Alright, Mom," Kinsey says. It sounds like she's in the entryway. You hear the squeak of the hinges as she opens the front door. As it does, you hear your youngest's happy scream. Bailey must be able to see out the window.

"Da! Da! Da! Da!" he babbles.

"Yes, Bae, that's Daddy," you hear your middle child, Emma, tell him. You smile to yourself, proud of how well your kids get along. You're still musing over your little family when a rumble pulls you out of your reverie.

"Hey, Kins," John's voice says. "Where's your mama?"

"Mama's in the kitchen," Emma responds.

"Emma, my sunshine!" he crows. You hear her giggle and can only imagine John's picking her up and probably tossing her into the air. A squeal proves your instinct right.

"Munchkin!" you hear Simon call. He must have been just behind John.

You hear Kinsey groan at the nickname, but it's impossible to miss the smile in her voice when she says, "Welcome home, Dad."

It's Johnny's voice you hear next. "Where's my Em girl?" he says. It's followed by a grunt, a squeal, and and a, "Watch it, MacTavish," in John's deep baritone. Johnny probably snatched the girl right out of John's arms.

You hear the wheels of Bailey's walker rattle along the floor as Kyle's voice joins the fray. "Baby boy! You've gotten so big!"

Bailey coos, "Da. Da. Da. Da," at him, which earns a guffaw from Johnny.

"Tha's yer Daddy. I'm Da!"

As you listened to your children greet their fathers, you put the dough into the cooker and are washing up. You wipe your wet hands on the tea towel, and a pair of strong hands fall on your waist. The man smells like sunshine and tobacco.

John's beard tickles your throat when he leans to kiss you. "Thank you, Mama," he whispers. You know from previous deployments he's thanking you for waiting for them, for caring for the kids in their absence, for carrying the weight of everything by yourself. "We're home now." He punctuates his message with another kiss as you feel Simon enter the room.

You step away from John's embrace to wrap your arms around as much of Simon as you can manage. You don't say anything, and neither does he. He drops a kiss on the hair and holds you tight for one minute, then two. When you feel him unfurl, tension seeping away, you finally whisper, "Welcome home, Si."

"Missed you, Mama," he replies. He gives you another tight squeeze before stepping back. You turn to find Kyle leaning against the door frame. He smiles at you, and you open your arms for him.

He picks you up with a spin. "Ky," you giggle, feeling decades younger.

"Mama," he says, "it smells amazing in here." He smiles at you. "You take such good care of us." He pulls you against him and brushes his lips across yours. "Thank you," he murmurs.

"Always," you reply, cupping his cheek. You close your eyes and press your forehead to his. "Always," you whisper again.

Finally, Johnny's behind you, practically pulling you from Kyle's hug. "Stop hogging our missus, Garrick. I didnae get a turn yet." You see Kyle roll his eyes, but he lets you go, passing you gently into Johnny's arms. "Mama," Johnny says, looking you in the eye. "It's so good tae be home."

You wrap your arms around his neck, playing with the hair at the base of his skull. "It's good to have you all home." You close your eyes and breathe deeply. You try to blink them away, but you feel the tears lining your eyes. "So so good."

This last deployment was longer than anyone thought it would be. After three months, they went radio silent, and if Kate hadn't been giving you updates, you would have been out tracking your men across the desert. Six months alone. Six months raising three kids on your own. Six months worrying about them every day.

But they were home now. And that was enough.

[tojisun]

I would like to humbly more soup

(The one with detached reader and traumatized Simon that blurb was so tasty and ONLY only if you have the spoons for it ♡)

i have a ladle so have this

they share a cig together; it’s not even from simon. he found it in the drawers in their bedroom, stashed underneath a couple of CD’s that are only encased in paper folders. it’s an old pack with only four sticks left and they’re not even the potent kind, and simon realizes, then, that they have been hidden so carefully.

he purposefully lays them on the kitchen table, after dinner, to watch how she’ll react. it is, after all, still a breach of her privacy; that, sure, she opened her home to him but he knows, all too well, that there are certain corners in every house that are never meant to be prodded — apparitions made from memories live along too, and simon knows to be careful lest he rouses a nightmare from its burrow. he knows. he knows. still, he thinks about what he can coax from her, and chances it with the shadows.

but she just blinks at it, her eyes flicking between simon and the pack, slowly and cat-like, before heaving a sigh and reaching for her lighter in her pockets. simon hums, something low and curling with a quiet wash of disappointment at her impassivity, and moves to take a stick out from the pack, only—

a twitch in her fingers. a slight pause in her movements. a crack in the facade; a blip in her silence.

simon smells the blood in the water and pounces on it with snapping maws. he grins, careful, and utters, “y’don’t like it that i found them.”

he doesn’t need to ask when it is obvious that it is true.

she licks her lips, eyes meeting his, and simon wants to commend the way she was quick to gather her spillage and force it back in her mask, but her hands are still quaking, and her fingertips have turned light with how hard they are pinching the lighter, and simon knows that he’s won this one.

she knows it too. he sees it in the way she takes a ragged breath in; in her continued silence.

“they’re my mom’s.”

her voice doesn’t waver, it doesn’t break. it rings clear, like he just asked her what the weather was and she knows it is raining outside because when does the rain ever stop? but she is no longer looking at him, and simon—

he knows enough about the apparitions made from memories and pulls his hand away.

“i see.”

simon wonders if it’ll look too much like he’s licking the wound of his shame if he offers his pack instead, but in the silence of his words, as his own memories unfurl like miasma, she lights up one.

he devours the image she makes — the quiet ember flickering across her face, now smoothed off any storm — when she takes a puff. he doesn’t look away even when she passes the stick to him; doesn’t look away even when it is his turn to breathe it in, and for his patience, he is rewarded the sweet image of the smoke spilling from her lips as she collapses back to her seat with a soft upturning of her lips.

and, somehow, the night isn’t over even when they’ve finished the pack.

simon knows that this is the true victory.

[muwapsturniolo]

Nipple or Tip ( • )( • ) C. Sturniolo

"I also saw one of those weird makeup hacks-"

⟢ funny shit tbh. nipples and tips of dick are mentioned as well as balls. chris being unhinged in ulta, reader done with his bs but also down with his bs.

dividers by the one and only rose toy @bernardsbendystraws

You were a beauty lover, it was well known by everyone in your life. When you were a kid, you were constantly in your moms makeup bag, messing up her high-priced lipsticks and eyeshadows on a daily basis.

As you got older, that love for makeup stayed.

You had a whole beauty room in your two-bedroom apartment. You had the vanity, the box lights as well as ring lights, and drawers on top of drawers filled with makeup you may not even have a chance to touch.

Chris knew of your love for makeup, he has been in you're beauty room one too many times to think otherwise. He never saw it as too much because he knew it was your way of expressing yourself - he was never the one to hate on expression.

So here he was, driving you to the place he should just invest in at this point.

Ulta.

You spent so much time there, that the workers recognize you. You have the credit card, you've racked up points, and you memorized the aisles. This was basically your third home, the first being your own and the second being Chris's.

"Alright, what do you need today?"

You proceed to go through your list as you walk inside the bright store, the sound of Billie's "Birds of a Feather" playing over the speakers. The song distracts him for a moment, but he comes back to reality hearing you say foundation.

"Wait, didn't you just get a new foundation?"

"Well...Yes, but I need another one!" He gives you a look as the two of you walk over to Wyn Beauty. "Technically, you don't need another one. You have about forty of them, but who am I to complain considering you're paying?"

It's comical to him the way you stop in your tracks, your eyes widening in disbelief. "What do you mean I'm paying? It's your turn to pay!"

Chris chuckles to himself, fixing the beanie on his head. "I'm just pulling your clit."

"Chris please stop fuckin' talking to me. That's not even how the damn saying goes!"

He giggles like a schoolboy and kisses your shoulder, motioning to the bright green packaging in front of you. "Go ahead and pick out your millionth foundation."

And so you do, you pick out a new foundation...and concealer, primer, setting spray, bronzer, lip gloss, and lipstick.

"Ok, now a lip liner." Your words spark Chris's interest, his mind going back to a specific video he saw not too long ago. The two of you start walking over to NYX, and he decides to fill you in on the content he consumed.

"So like, I saw this makeup video on tik- Why are you getting makeup videos on TikTok? What girl are you sending them to?"

"I'm getting them because of you, dumbass. You're the only girl that actually puts up with me, why would I talk to another one?" You snicker to yourself knowing he's right.

He's too in love with you to go find someone else.

"Anyway, like I was saying. I saw this video on TikTok where this girl was trying out these makeup hacks or secrets, whatever it's called. So she said the best way to match your lip liner is to match it to your nipples! Crazy shit, but it has me thinking, what if you matched it to the tip of my dick?"

All you could do was stare at him in silence.

"You being deadass?"

He shrugs before answering you, a smirk that shows he's up to no good making its way onto his face. "I mean, I think it would look nice on you. A nice pinky red....It's up your alley anyway considering you have a blush named 'orgasm' and a mascara called 'better than sex' ."

"Didn't I tell you to stop talking to me?" He groans and pulls you closer, his hands settling right on top of your ass. "Come on it would be funny! I will literally give you my card and let you roam in TJ Maxx and I will take you to Chili's!''

"You had me at TJ Maxx."

You whip your phone out, thanking yourself for buying a privacy screen, and begin scrolling through your privet photo albums to find a picture of Chris's dick.

"Wait, you should match one to your nipples too. Then we can compare which one looks better."

He could be so childish at times, but you were the exact same.

The two of you stand in the aisle, holding up different shades of pink and brown to your phone. Eventually, you two settle on "Rose" and "Nutmeg", the two colors being the closest you could get.

Soon the two of you are back in the car and Chris is urging you to try on both lip liners, refusing to drive until he sees them on you. You first try on the brown shade, lining your lips with ease. It was a pretty color, simple and not unusual considering you always wore brown lipliner.

You turn to Chris, asking him what he thinks. "Sexy as usual. You know I like it when you do the brown ones." You smile at his flattering words, giving him a quick peck on the lips before wiping the lip liner off. You unravel the pink liner and swipe it on, rubbing your lips together so it blends out.

"So what do we think? Nipple or tip?"

You see the way his eyes dart across your face, analyzing everything about you.

"Both look good, you know you can make everything look good. It's what I love about you." You find your cheeks getting warm, never getting used to the way he makes you feel so good, even on days when you look like a bum.

"Come on, I promised to let you roam in TJ Maxx." He puts the car in reverse and begins driving towards the retail store. The drive is quiet for the most part, nothing but music and the occasional small talk. As soon as the two of you make it to TJ Maxx, Chris turns to you before getting out of the car.

"You know, I also saw one of those weird makeup hacks where this girl put her foundation on with her boyfriend's balls."

"This the last time imma tell you to shut up talkin' to me!"

[prlssprfctn]

AU, where Bruce accidentally gets de-aged (physically and mentally), and the first person he bumps in is... Red Hood.

To Jason's defence, he didn't connect the dots at first. He was just patrolling around his usual turf, thinking of nothing in particular, when he saw a small child in a ridiculously serious suit, sulking around Crime Alley. He looks distraught, and considering that he looks rich, it is no surprise - that is not a place for him. So, he is either lost or something happened, right?

He takes the helmet off, as he usually does when he is dealing with kids (they got scared easily) and carefully approaches a brooding baby.

'Hey, shrimp. Where are your parents at?'

That said shrimp turns around, his big blue eyes looking confused and lost, and Jason thinks he looks awfully familiar.

'I am not shrimp,' he protests instantly, pouting at him. 'And they are somewhere... here. We just left the movie theatre together!'

Jason glances at the abandoned movie theatre, back at the little rich boy with a familiar frown, and it clicks. This is his fucking dad. Suddenly, a kid - but it is fucking Bruce Wayne, for sure.

'Was watching Zorro by any chance?' Jason still asks, just to be sure that he is not going insane.

Bruce - and it must be him - beams at him.

'Yes! This is a great movie, by the way.'

Oh, hell. At least, he didn't witness his parents' death just yet. Jason wasn't sure he would be able to deal with his father being so small, and mourning his mom and dad. He would probably cry himself at some point.

'Hey,' Jason calls out for him slowly, squatting down; God, who would've thought that this little shrimp would become so tall and big in the future. 'Aren't you... You must be Thomas's kid, right?'

Okay, yeah, Jason is going to lie to this kid. Because there is no way he manages just to steal Bruce as a stranger to bring him back home; it is still a kid, even if it is his father. Right?

'You know my dad?' Bruce tilts his head, little fingers tugging on the hem of his jacket; suspicious.

'You could say that,' Jason nods. 'Alfie... I mean, Alfred called me. Asked me to pick up a kid, since Thomas and Martha got an urgent call.'

Fuck his life and stupid life choices. What the hell he was even doing? He looked like a mugger; or like a psycho. But Alfred was his best bet - he could call him, after all; ask, well, support his idiotic made-up story.

'No one calls Alfred Alfie but my dad,' Bruce pouts in a very, very spoiled manner.

'Well... I do. We served together in the army,' he blurts out.

His armour, apparently, is enough a proof for the kid to nod slowly.

'Okay. But you gotta take off your strange mask first,' Bruce folds arms on his chest.

...???

Did this kid just agree for an unknown man to take him home? Like this? Who could've thought that this pouty child would become the most paranoid man alive in the future?

'Uh, why?'

'So I can remember your face and do an identikit, if you turn out to be a bad guy,' Bruce smirks stupidly. 'Duh.'

Jason is going to cry. This kid is so cute.

'Yeah, duh,' Jason huffs, but despite his better judgment takes the domino mask off as well. 'Go on, take your time. My identikit should be the prettiest, shrimp.'

Bruce... gawks at him. His eyes are comically wide now, mouth open, and then, he jumps a little closer to him - oh, God, he is jumping when excited? - putting his hellishly cold hands on Jason's cheeks.

'Woah. You look like dad.'

'Uh,' Jason nods awkwardly, and because he is an idiot, adds a joke: 'We are brothers, actually. Just don't talk much.'

...Apparently, little Bruce can't take jokes. Because he lets out an adorable gasp, and throws himself on Jason as if they knew each other for ages now.

'Uncle? That's so cool. You look like Zorro!'

Damn this little kid, and this stupid family. Damn Joe Chill and the night he killed this kid's parents. Damn it all. Bruce might be an asshole sometimes, but he was so... cute and innocent.

'Thanks, shrimp,' Jason slides a domino mask back on, picks up little Bruce with one arm, and grips a helmet with another. 'Come on, let's go home. Alfred will make your favourite tiramisu.'

'You know my favourites?!'

Jason sniffles.

'Yeah. Yeah, I do, kid.'

If he gets so emotional over this kid, he has no idea how worse Dick is going to be once he finds out.

Oh, this is going to be one hell of a night.

[soleilapproves]

Can I make a request for a pregnant y/n? Like jjk men and y/n get to the hospital when she goes into labor and they’re only expecting one baby but she ends up having twins? I’d love to know their reactions 😭🩷

Girl, realistically, I don’t think that’s possible with ultrasounds and stuff.

BUT, for the sake of the fic, let’s just say that you’re in a time period where ultrasounds don’t exist and physicians rely on taking your pulse or something to see if you’re pregnant or not.

cw: pregnancy, small descriptions of birth

Nanami is always a level headed and cool man. So when you popped out two kids instead of one, he had the most calm expression ever, only stroking your cheek and cooing in your ears about how well you did. Unbeknownst to you, he’s trying his best not to rip his own hair out. The house was only ready for one baby—one nursery, one nanny, one chest of clothes. Now he was going to have work just as hard to set up the same for another baby in a very short time. You don’t notice his hand trembling when the midwife tells him that there’s another kid in the equation, his main focus would probably be on making sure you’re feeling better considering that you’re in the most overwhelming phase of being a new mom. All in all, I think he’d be very scared, but he’d face this change head on and would try his best to be a good dad to both his kids (all while freaking out on the inside.)

Gojo would be elated! Double the trouble. While you’re in pain, moaning and crying while pushing out the afterbirth, Gojo is already giggling over his new children, both annoyingly being the spitting images of their father. The nurse would probably yell at him to settle down because he’s being a nuisance and send him out for being annoying, not gonna lie. But who can blame him? He’s just so excited to take both his babies home and shower them with all the love and attention in the world. There’s no doubt that you’re nervous and scared after birthing twins, you aren’t even sure how you’ll nurse them or give them attention at the same time, and seeing this, Gojo vows to make your life easier with the babies. The nannies would often complain that Gojo leaves them no work because he’s always enthusiastic to look after his little ones.

Out of all the JJK men, I think Toji would have the worst reaction. He would be freaking the fuck out and would not be shy about it. He’d be clutching on to your hand to prevent himself from fainting after the midwife yells that there’s another one coming. It’s not that he exhibits weaponized incompetency, he’s just genuinely scared of messing up twice the amount now. He’d definitely be insecure throughout the first month though, wondering if he’s even blessed enough to deserve two little angels and a lovely wife. But that doesn’t stop him from trying his best. He makes a LOT of mistakes, but he’s always ready to learn, albeit, he’s a sloppy student, but he tries and that’s what matters. The kids also say dad first so he feels like he did something right after all.

Geto is a certified twin dad. It was on his resume when he started dating you. He is not scared, and is in dad mode the second you both find that you’re carrying. So imagine his delight when there’s two babies instead of one in the cradle, both looking like they’re the most precious things on Earth. Very overprotective, especially two times as much since his babies are so beautiful, he would not let anyone in a three feet radius of his children during the first month and it took a lot of convincing to let him loose and decrease the requirement to two feet. They’re the apples of his eye and so are you. He’s surprisingly good at dividing his attention well so nobody feels excluded. He made you feel safe and secure since the beginning, constantly reassuring you that raising twins is light work. You wouldn’t know if you’d still have your sanity if he was not the father of your children.

Sukuna makes you want to smack his face while giving birth. While you’re there, having the most uncomfortable and painful time, Sukuna is laughing to himself while holding both his babies to his chest, all four arms supporting them. He begins to yell about how he has two heirs now and the midwife smacks the back of his head so he’ll quiet down. Too bad he can’t kill her because she helped deliver his tiny demons. He had already started imagining what he’d teach the kid when he found out that you were pregnant, but now that there’s two kids there’s going to be twice the fun. He imagines teaching both his kiddos how to fight, maybe if they have too much energy and are annoying him then he’ll make them spar with each other. He laughs to himself menacingly and you try not to worry about what the man is planning. He also does not clean dirty diapers and does not make you do any of that either. Will probably force you away from the kids if he has to because the poor servants can handle it. He just wants to you to remember the fun parts of parenthood.

[legalandnotease]

Tony Stans have a severe logical deficit.

Steve forced Clint to do nothing. All of the members of Team Cap aided him voluntarily, despite knowing what they were getting into.

There's absolutely zero evidence Clint had any opinion either way on the Accords- because he wasn't asked. He wasn't invited to Tony's little discussion: more like blackmaiing session.

Neither was Hank Pym- who was directly impacted by them. Neither was Strange, neither was Spidey. Or any other enhanced person.

Tony arbitrarily made the desision to hand over power of all enhanced people to Ross- ROSS of all people- without asking any of them. (And don't get me started how Tony fans pretend Ross is suddenly the good guy in CW after his whole history in the MCU being that of an antagonist at best...)

And those who said no? Well.. he was happy to let Ross lock them in Gauntanamo Bay for their trouble.

Further, and her's the real crux: Steve had already made up his mind to not sign before everything with Bucky. He was *already* prepared to retire before that point.

He was effectively acting as a private citizen after that point and picked other private citiizens who had not signed the Accords on his team specifically so they would not fall afoul of them.

He was never using public money or resources to help Bucky- but Tony was doing that to try and murder an American Citizen on foreign soil without any semblance of a trial or due process.

Look at the makeup of his Team: T'Challa. Literally a living breathng Accords breaker. Using his catsuit and enhanced powers to break stuff and try and kill a guy.

Spidey- a kid Tony blackmailed and manipuated into helping him

Vision: A synth created without any kind of official permission to stop Tony's genocidal murderbot.

Natasha: A former Red Room assassin (what was that you were complaining about assassins???) whose record SHIELD hid for years.

And two of them switch sides before the end of the movie.

Even Tony ignores the Accords as soon as they become inconvenient. When Ross is yelling at him be decides to go after Zemo himself without any offiical permission because he thinks if he gives Zemo to Ross he might get off his back.

Tony's actions and stance are selfish from start to finish. He's guilt-tripped into supporting them by the mom of the singular American legal adult who his murderbot killed.

He never even thinks about or mentioned the thousands of innocent Sokovians who died. Who he was happy to allow to die- he was the guy who immediately proposed blowing up Novi Grad as a solution. It was the others who had to evacuate as many civilians as they could.

And it was precisely because Tony didn't give a fuck that Zemo did what he did. His whole speech in Siberia is very much "remember thier names". Had Tony given a fuck about dead Sokovians Zemo's family would have been well-known (he was aristocracy there for goodness sake..) and something would have been done. Some aid or relief or something.

Tony then straight out admits he's only getting on board so Pepper will come back, and then as mentioned he ignores them as soon as humanly possible because he wants to be the one to get the sole credit of saving the day but apprehending the real villian (the one Steve had been telling him was the real villian for days...)

He even admits that he should be arresting himself over going to Siberia. Where is was neither wanted, invited, nor welcome.

Steve's stance is based on real principles: you cannot allow governments who have a history of weaponizing enhanced people to have control of enhanced people because they *will* do it again. Its not a matter of if but when. ...and when they do, inncents will die because they will use enhanced people as their private army. Just like Ross always wanted to do.

Bucky is just one example of what governments will do when they get hold of an enhanced person. Natasha is another. Hulk is another (he would have been Team Cap because of his history with Ross).

Tony fans were just too dense and too much in love with him to understand what the movie as telling them.

Tony Stark in CA:CW + the values of Captain America

[wayneskluv]

summary: Your mom—Wonder Woman—just dropped you off at Wayne Manor like a kid because she apparently couldn’t find a “suitable babysitter.” Never mind that you’re a fully grown adult and more than capable of taking care of yourself. Now you’re stuck in a mansion full of brooding vigilantes, chaotic adopted siblings, and a butler who’s already silently judging your life choices.

You survived battles, monsters, and Olympian family drama—but can you survive living with the Batfamily?

word count: ???

pairing/s: platonic!damian x reader (definite, set in stone) and then i’m not sure maybe dick x reader or jason x reader idk atm

warnings: basically none at the moment. damian being a bit of a demon brat. demigod!user.

authors note: um so hi. i’m back! probably. this might be a new sort of fic if anyone is interested.. like just chaos and perhaps a romantic pairing.. i will actually work on the peraltiago fic at some point but life has been HECTIC.

WAYNE Manor looms ahead, all gothic spires and looming stone, like something out of a horror novel rather than a billionaire’s estate. You shift the strap of your duffel bag, inhaling deeply. The air here is thick with old books, expensive wood polish, and—oddly enough—gunpowder. Fitting, considering the people inside.

The massive doors swing open before you can knock, revealing Alfred, ever the picture of poise. His expression is unreadable, but there’s warmth in his voice. “Miss. Welcome to Wayne Manor.”

You nod. “Thanks.”

Inside, the house is even grander. High ceilings, walls lined with paintings older than some civilizations, and a staircase that looks like it was built for dramatic entrances.

Bruce is already there, waiting near the banister like some brooding gargoyle. Arms crossed. Stance firm. His usual intimidation tactics, but you’ve faced literal gods.

“You’ll be staying in the east wing,” he says. “Alfred will show you to your room.”

You raise a brow. “No speech? No ‘my house, my rules’?”

He exhales sharply. “You already know the rules. You’re not a guest—you’re an ally.”

Which is Bat-speak for I trust you, but I’ll still be watching you like a hawk.

Then, Chaos.

Dick is the first to approach, all bright smiles and easy warmth. “Hey! Glad you’re here.” He pulls you into a quick one-armed hug before you can react. “Don’t let the gloom and doom fool you—this place is kinda fun once you settle in.”

Jason, leaning against the staircase railing, snorts. “Fun? Sure. If you like near-death experiences and questioning your mortality on a daily basis.”

Tim, slouched on the couch with a coffee in hand, barely looks up. “Give it a few days. You’ll either love it or start reconsidering your life choices.”

“Tt.” The noise comes from Damian, standing stiffly at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed like a tiny warlord. His eyes flick over you, assessing, calculating. “You may be the daughter of an Amazon, but that does not mean you are above scrutiny.”

You smirk. “And you must be the infamous Damian. I’ve heard so much about you.”

His scowl deepens. “I highly doubt that.”

Dick slings an arm around your shoulders, grinning. “You’ll fit right in.”

You glance around at the absolute mess of personalities—grumpy billionaires, reckless vigilantes, over-caffeinated detectives, and a pint-sized assassin with a superiority complex.

Oh, this is going to be fun.

[meo-eiru]

Day 2 of Character Trivia Night! Just a heads up, I already tagged it with the necessary tw warnings but I'll be mentioning self harm so proceed with caution

For tonight we have Elias

Elias has a mother and father, and is an only child

His father is an office worker and his mother is a stay at home mom

He occasionally talks to them when they call him but doesn't actively try to keep a close bond with them

He had short brown hair before meeting you but after doing so he decided to switch to a more flashy appearance to make up for his lack of personality

He doesn't have a favorite or least favorite food but follows a strict diet to have a body to your liking

He's not a morning person but forces himself to wake up early to spend 1 to 2 hours in the bathroom prettying himself up

Has had the same manager for years but still can't remember his name

He had a few stalkers growing up and was even poisoned once after you two started dating

He was more worried about appearing sickly in front of you than almost dying so when you tried entering his room to check up on him he cried

Talking with a man for more 10 minutes, being alone with one for more than 5 minutes, not returning his calls or messages within 1 minute, not looking at him once for more than half an hour when you two are together and not complimenting him at least 30 times during the day all counts as signs of cheating in his eyes

If you show attraction to another men, such as an idol or celebrity, he'll start mimicking their looks and behavior

He desperately wants to kill the people around you but last time he tried it he almost messed everything up so now he just pretends to be a victim and ruins them socially

He's not such a high ranking model because besides his good looks he lacks presence, but he does have a decent social media following

He doesn't post that often and when he does they are either just photos or a few words, it was enough to gather a small cult following though

He does have a private account he uses to vent, he usually uses it like a diary to write about you but when he gets distressed his posts turn very aggressive

He occasionally does self harm, he doesn't particularly enjoy the feeling but he loves the expression on your face when you see it

He usually uses it as a trick to manipulate you. Once he couldn't contact you for an hour so he just spammed you with pictures of a particularly deep wound and "I'm ending it since you apparently don't care about me" messages.

You had to run to his house only to find him lightheaded from blood loss, but he just greeted you with a smile and hug like his arm wasn't dripping blood

If you can't take it and try to break up with him he'll take it outside, start making a scene, gather a crowd and threaten to jump off until you take it back due to public pressure

He doesn't particularly care about the scars left during these outbursts since he views them as memories the two of you share but if someone else leaves a scar on him, even by accident, he'll have a breakdown and attack the person until someone pulls him back

His favorite dates are the ones where you two just laze around in bed the whole day, open a random show and have sex instead of actually watching it

He's mostly fine with you having your own hobbies and interests but if you seem to enjoy them a bit too much for his liking he'll start throwing tantrums to get you to do them less

He has two moles right above his butt, on the left

[ghost-proofbaby]

thinking about Eddie being so eager to kiss you all the time and he just gets a little too excited sometimes a little too rough and you bump into something and he cradles you while you giggle cause he can't stop smiling into his kisses

And sure maybe it's a little awkward and teeth knock against each other and he catches your lip in his teeth a little too hard but it's okay cause you're deliriously happy

And it's not about getting to the sex (not all the time anyways) but he's just so happy to have found a safe place to land and he's enthusiastic that he found someone who wants to kiss him just as much as he wants to kiss you

And this time he's not too much and his feelings aren't too big and he doesn't need to tone it down cause you're his person and he's yours

Okay bye ily

mouse. mouse get the fuck back here. MOUSE DONT LEAVE ME LIKE THIS

he's just so happy to have a safe place to land and this time he's not too much and his feelings aren't too big were daggers straight to my heart you come back here right now before i actually bleed out from needing this man so badly.

no but thats exactly it. eddie has spent so long jumping and toeing that line of either trying to cram himself into this bite-sized shape for the ones around him, and just exploding and pretending he doesn't give a fuck that he will never fit into anyone's cup of tea so he'll just make himself even larger, that when you enter his life he just doesnt know what to do about it.

because he starts with his regular tricks of being so over the top, so unbearable, and all you're doing is laughing and entertaining his antics. even playing along at times. and so he retracts a little, turning back into a quiet boy who will shrivel up until he's invisible or easy to love (whichever comes first). but then that doesn't work - and to be truthful, he doesn't even know what his mind's end goal is here because why is he trying to push you away so desperately? - and he's just at a loss. you want him on the thundering days, where he makes his grey clouds everyone's problem and all his lightning is blinding and sporadic. you want him on the quiet days, where the downpour is no longer a roar but a soft drizzle, a bit more silent and a bit more bearable but still there. and he can't tell if it's a joke - he can't decipher if your kisses amidst his rambles are sincere, if you're actually smiling at his jokes because you like him or you're too polite to break his heart. he can't see through those gentle hands you use to caress back his wild hair to be sure that the softest of touches are really just you, or some strange gloves of care that you're only simply wearing for now.

and then one morning, he wakes up, and you're still there, awake before he is and just watching him with so much love. feather-light fingers taking their time tracing over his tattoo on his chest and arms, not noticing he's awake yet as you smile so serenely at him. you're looking at him in a way that he's never really gotten to experience so vulnerably before - like he isn't a nuisance, isn't a mistake. like the universe has so intentionally dropped him into your palms, and you're so aware of how delicate he can be below the surface. and he just breaks.

"i love you"

he'd blurt it out, the first time he's ever said those words to you. it almost feels like the first time he's said those words, period.

he's said them to wayne, in their own way, both a bit stiff in expressing affection and skirting around those words whenever they can for a simply ruffle of hair or unexpected side hugs. he'd said them to his mom, a young boy with shining eyes despite it all, looking at her like she was the world because she was his world.

and... well. that's it. he can count the number of times he's said those words on one hand, and now he's said them to you, and all he can hope is you handle them with as much care as you've handled him.

he hopes you can feel the weight of his heart pressing down on them.

and he thinks you do, when you startle a little, looking up to his lips where those rough words had just fallen from in a cracking tone, and you take your time in awarding him with a smile that could save lives. cure cancer, cure sadness, cure the end of the world even. every cliche possible.

"yeah?" you'd whisper back, and his heart skips a beat, terrified that the next words you say won't be what he needs to hear so desperately. but they are. because of course they are. you wouldn't have been watching him sleep in that way if they hadn't been on the tip of your tongue, "i love you."

not a crash landing, but a soft-padded decent. a slow fall with a cushion to prevent broken bones and more invisible scars.

he kisses you then the way he was going to kiss you every day going forward: pushing forward recklessly, teeth and noses bumping a little, smiles making it nearly impossible. he kisses you like he's coming home after a long day, because he is.

he's home. no boxes in sight to fit into, no cups that'll overflow from all the fizzling feelings pouring out of his chest. you've got him, and he's got you.

[chimielie]

hold ‘em up (above my heart)

summary: Atsumu x Physical Therapist!F!Reader. the sun rises and sets over and over as your relationship progresses from friends to pro yearners to more.

wc: 4.3k

cw: friends with benefits subplot and all that entails; not explicit, just suggestive, reader is fighting for her LIFE in her brain, atsumu is just chilling (not really)

a/n: hi i didn’t die :3

“Hands up,” you say, voice low so as not to disturb the peace of the morning.

Atsumu raises his arms, elbows bent, making a frame of his face. His blond hair is pale, almost white because his little kitchen window faces east and he wakes before it rises above the upper pane. You sidle past him, back to his front, ignoring the weight of his hand as it settles on your hip while you reach up for the granola you keep in the cabinet next to the fridge.

He likes traditional Japanese breakfasts, the savory and umami flavors of natto and rice and miso. You have a sweet tooth and a craving for crunchy food, like a wild animal that needs to grind down its molars. On the days he has work, he settles for an omelette (or scrambled eggs if he fucks it up). You eat the same thing every morning or you'll be sick.

Growing up, Atsumu was never a morning person, but he sleeps better on the nights you're next to him. He doesn't get angry when you slosh milk over the side of his bowl onto his dining table, doesn't snap when you ask him what his plans for the day are. Maybe this is what being an adult is, these steady waters and calm skies.

You don't speak much as you chew, staring into space and thinking the slow thoughts of the exhausted, and he busies himself scrolling through his group messages and social media accounts.

There's a request from a verified account, a retired athlete-turned-model. He knows her name, has seen her in ads, bumped into her at the last Olympics. He clicks on it.

Hey, handsome. I'll be in Osaka this upcoming weekend - let's get a drink!

"I'm gonna shower," you're patting your hair, looking irritated. It always sticks up in the morning, no matter how you sleep on it, a few particular strands defying gravity.

"You should go to work like that," he says, voice still rough even if his mind's woken up. His accent is thicker in the morning, you've told him, but he can't hear it.

"Hell no," you say. "You're the only one who gets to see this morning glory for now."

"I better be," his grin is roguish, running his hand through his own bird's nest. "C'mon, you gonna let me shower with you or what?"

"No, you'll use up all my nice shampoo again!" You fake running to the bathroom, keeping your pace slow enough for him to wrap his arms around your waist and tackle you down, careful to fold himself so that you land on top of him, body between his legs, face cushioned on his chest.

He leaves his phone face up, forgotten on the table.

He's toweling off his hair, dressed in his practice uniform, while you're packing your bag for the day in the kitchen. His apartment is small, way smaller than some of the other guys' on the team, but he grew up crammed into a room with his mom and his brother. He'd toured one penthouse and decided he couldn't live with all that space strangling him.

He'd tried to get Samu to bunk with him like old times, but his brother had just said I'll sleep three meters from your dirty laundry in hell, and that was the end of the argument.

Besides, he has a lot of car bills to pay. He managed to fold another Mazda last month and you've been carpooling in your ancient Toyota while he waits to get license privileges again ever since.

"You got a text, by the way," you say casually, digging through your purse with your lips twisted to the side. "Aha!" You pull out a tube of lipstick triumphantly. "You should respond before you forget."

"Ah, was it Samu?" He asks, crossing back into the bedroom to put away his damp towel.

"Nah, the model," you call. "Sorry, I read your texts."

You're fighting the growing bitterness of the words, trying to sound jaunty and uncaring and casual. The admission of invading his privacy weighs heavily on your shoulders; you can't make yourself look up into his face when he comes into the kitchen.

"I don't care," he shrugs. "You can read whatever you want."

"You shouldn't say that," you try to laugh and wince instead. He just grunts and picks up the phone, swiping away from the conversation and leaving her on read. "I don't have the right, don't I? I shouldn't have—"

"I really don't care," he cuts across your strained attempt at an apology again.

"You should!" You sound like you're about to stamp your foot at him. He doesn't understand why you're so angry; he doesn't bite. "Aren't you gonna get mad? Shouldn't we be fighting?"

"I don't wanna fight," he rubs his large, calloused hand over your shoulder, your upper trapezius, to cup the back of your and pull you into a loose embrace. You stand, dumbfounded, chin pushed into his shoulder, hands at your sides. "Do you? We can if you want to."

"No," you whisper. "Sorry, I—sorry."

"'S okay," he says, digging his thumbs into the tight knots of muscle. "No big deal. Here, you dropped your thingy."

The thingy is the tube of lipstick, a deep berry color, rolling towards the edge of the table. He steps back and squeezes your cheeks in one hands, prompting you to part your lips slightly. He does it how he knows you do, a soft smear on the lower lip and two dabs made sharp by a swipe of his thumbnail on the outer creases, all blended together at the end for a subtle touch of color.

"You look like a frog about to burp," he says when he's done. You laugh so hard you cry.

On the car ride to work, you keep chewing on your lip. He frowns when he notices, all his work bitten off.

You wait for him to get out of the car first, a holdover from the days when you would wait five minutes so no one would notice that you were coming from the same place. In some ways, it's easier that he crashed his car; so convenient that you volunteered to be his chauffeur. He comes to your side, opens your door. You squint at him, jutting your chin out like you're bracing yourself for something.

"I wasn't gonna go out with her," he tells you, a secret between you, him, and the hard asphalt of the MSBY gym's employee parking lot. "Ain't nobody else seein' this in the mornings either. That's all."

He turns around and strides off, leaving you blinking in the morning light.

"Can you move it?" You say, your brows knit together. Hinata grimaces.

"I can bend it, like this—" he curls the injured finger inward. "But it won't stretch out, like this. Ah!"

You release his hand, where you'd applied pressure to the digit. "It's sprained. You're sitting out the rest of practice."

"Aw, but it really doesn't hurt that bad," he protests. You give him a look. "Okay, okay. Can I least do some running and stuff?"

"Do you want to come to practice tomorrow?" You say evenly. He gives you big brown puppydog eyes and you fold like wet paper. "I'll give you some stretches and exercises for your legs that you probably can't fuck up."

"Yay!" He cheers. "Thank you!" He uses an affectionate diminutive of your name with -chan tacked on the end. You laugh and wave him off, walking out of the main gym area toward your office, where you can print him the exercises.

You lean against your desk while the printer huffs temperamentally, taking a long sip of coffee. You should really stop going over to Atsumu's on weeknights, but you've been telling yourself that for well over a year, and it's a lot more convenient since all your clothes and your toothbrush live at his place.

You tell yourself a lot of things when it comes to your blond coworker.

The door to your office slams open and you make an involuntary, high-pitched noise in the back of your throat, focusing hard on keeping the cardboard cup in your hand from jumping with you.

"Sorry, sorry," Bokuto says, his hair drooping dramatically. "It's just really important—Tsumu's hurt!"

You take an inhale so quickly it hurts and burst your coffee cup all over your coat and work pants. Luckily, you take it mostly milk and sugar, so it doesn't burn you, but you don't even really notice it, just shedding the coat and rolling up your sleeves as you stride out the door without hesitation.

Behind you, Bokuto follows, making garbled promises you hear as through water to buy you a house to make up for startling you and ruining your outfit.

You try to take three deep breaths before you enter the gym, knowing you'll be much more helpful calm rather than battling the wall of panic that threatens to overtake you. Atsumu is blocked from your vision by a crowd of his teammates, fluttering around him like a herd of bumblebees.

Iwaizumi is already there, you see with an exhale of relief, ordering everyone around him to stay calm. You motion to the players around him to give him space, hoping your terror doesn't show untowardly on your face, hoping he can feel your singleminded prayer: please be okay.

"Eh?" He has a dopey expression on his face, dopier than usual, anyway. He says your name gleefully, but you're too busy scanning him for visible blood or bone to respond right away. "Nice shirt. Hey, why's your coat off? Were you taking off your clothes in there? Without me?"

"He collided with Sakusa," Iwaizumi tells you. Atsumu reaches for your hand and you stroke your fingertips lightly over the back of it, along the bones and tendons, each touch saying you'll be okay, it's going to be okay.

I'll make it okay.

"Sakusa's shoulder got banged up, you should probably put him on reserve for a couple days," Iwaizumi says. You glance over at the black-haired spiker, who gives you a thumbs-up though his expression is characteristically flat. "Atsumu, though... he fell pretty hard."

You can see that. There's a bruise blooming along the side of his face, like the sloppy trail of your lipstick after a night out. His ankle is swollen, too; the disorientation of the head injury must have impaired the grace of his landing.

You kneel and shift into clinical mode, receding into the comfortable space of your training. You feel along his leg, asking him over and over does it hurt, can you move this, does it hurt when I do this.

"Okay, doc?" His beautiful honey eyes are unfocused. You want to cry. You want to squeeze his hand tighter, but you don't want to hurt him more. "S all good. I'm fine."

You shake your head, grateful it's not worse. Afraid of what you have to say to him.

"That's right, you'll be fine. But the concussion paired with the ankle injury... I don't think it's a good idea for you to return to practice for a month at least."

You squeeze your eyes shut and pull your hands away from him. He probably doesn't want to be touched. He might hate you for this.

What's the point of sleeping with the doc if I don't get special privileges, you imagine him saying, if you're gonna take my life away from me like this. A month of recovery doesn't sound like so much to other people, but you've been working around these volleyball freaks since high school. You know that it's everything to them.

"Okay," Atsumu simply says. You look at him. "You gonna drive me home?"

"If you don't mind," you say softly.

"Yeah, then it's okay," he says, and scoots around, hissing when he forgets and puts pressure on the injured ankle. He leans back, and you catch his head in your lap.

"I'm gonna break my leg," Barnes says from somewhere behind you. "I want the doc to hold me like that."

You hear a thwack and then Iwaizumi's voice: "Sakusa, stop concussing your teammates. L/N only has so much room in her car."

Atsumu recovers more quickly than you expect. You should have known, though; he's always had a strong ability to heal. He rarely gets sick and though he's brash and reckless and sometimes outright stupid, he's lucky. In almost all the inadvisable endeavors you've seen him pull, he almost never gets hurt.

You're not actually a doctor, not that the team believes that. You've been trying to explain that you're a sports medicine physical therapist for the three years you've been working for MSBY and not once has it deterred anyone from calling you doc.

Atsumu was signed six months after you started, and you had only been friends until a year after that. In all that time, you've been the consummate professional at work, never letting your touches linger, never stretching him too deeply, trying not to stare at him like he's just any other player. When he first propositioned you, you tried not to say yes too quickly, as businesslike as possible.

You went into sports medicine because of your sister. She had been a superstar from the moment she stepped foot on a tennis court; even at a young age you saw that she wielded the racket like it was an extension of herself. As the two of you grew in age, you also saw the ways she overextended herself: the swollen knobs of her knees, hidden under frozen packs of peas, the frequent doctor's visits for hyperextension, the tear tracks when she tore her ACL.

You had spent so much of your childhood waiting for her during practice, doing your homework in the bleachers, fielding questions about her play to the uninitiated relatives who came to support her matches that it felt like the most natural course of action to go into a career field that meant you could help her and others like her chase their dreams.

You had also almost exclusively dated athletes as a result. While you were attending university and chasing your certifications, you had been surrounded by two types of people: students and athletes. You had barely any time in your schedule, much less the ability to align it with a similarly crammed med student. Athletes, on the other hand, didn't have an obsession with comparing your knowledge, liked that you were too busy to monitor them all day long, and loved that you had to attend every one of their games because it was literally your job.

By the time you got the position in Osaka, you were beyond over the routine of dating the people in your care. You swore to yourself that you wouldn't mess around with the team and entered a yearlong celibate streak, which Atsumu blew up into a million pieces and never allowed to recover.

To his (and your) credit, the both of you became close friends before ever crossing the boundary of inappropriate conduct. Just because you were strictly business during work hours didn't mean that you, lonely and shy in a new city, were going to turn down your coworkers' offer to go out after practice. You'd gotten to know Meian well and considered Bokuto to be something of a little brother. Then they had traded a couple of players for Atsumu, and the moment he gripped your hand and slapped your shoulder instead of shaking it or bowing like a normal person, you knew that he was going to mean much more to you than any other of your team.

You had fallen quickly into a deep friendship, and his apartment was much closer to the team's favored bars than yours was, so it was just easier for you to go home and crash on his couch. And his couch was gross, because it belonged to a bachelor who had never heard of a steam cleaner, so one night you insisted on sharing the bed, and you had become good friends who cuddled weekly.

It happened like this:

You were the last two left in the booth that had once contained the extremely compressed bodies of several of the largest men in Japan, probably, but they had practice early the next morning and had trickled out, one by one. Atsumu had his head down on the table while you desperately tried to convince him to come home (already you were referring to his apartment as your home without thinking, though only a spare toothbrush and a coat were kept there at the time).

"Please," you said, "I'm so tired. I'm not even drunk anymore."

"I am," Atsumu said, turning his face toward you. "Very."

"I know," you groaned. "Let's go home."

"I can't," he said despondently.

"Why not?"

"Not with you," his words slurred together. "I gotta problem."

"What?" You suddenly felt very, very sick. Maybe you were more drunk than you'd thought.

"Mhm. I gotta apologize, I think."

Oh, you thought. This is it. He knows.

"I've been having," he hiccuped and turned his face into his arms again so that you couldn't hear the next thing he mumbled.

"I can't hear you like that," you say softly. "Please, Atsumu, you can tell me anything."

You've been seeing someone, and she wants me to stop sleeping over. She wants you to stop being friends with me. You need the apartment to yourself to have her over.

"No," he says, turning back to you again, his eyes glossy with drink, his lips pink and just the slightest bit open. "I have been having manly thoughts about you. Unmanly thoughts. Whatever."

"What do you mean?" You'd asked, heart beating fast.

"I wanna have sex with you," he said, and then slammed his forehead against the table until it left a red mark. "I'm sorry, women! It's wrong to dream about kissing your girl friends, I know!"

You ignored his nonsensical shouting and put your hand under his face so he wouldn't injure it.

"Then let's go home so we can have sex," you said. He whipped his head up so fast you worried for his spinal discs.

"You promise?"

You actually didn't have sex that night because he fell asleep as soon as you coerced him into the bed. The next morning, he'd been hungover and ashamed, stuttering and afraid to look you in the eye. You had given him a handful of painkiller pills and waited until he was washing it down with a glass of green juice before you said "I think about having sex with you, too," so that he spewed it all over the floor.

Maybe it was petty, but you needed vengeance for his forcing you to drag him bodily out of that bar the previous night.

After your first time, he said, awkwardly, something about not being able to commit to a relationship at the moment, something about difficulty expressing his feelings, about being too immature to settle. A script you were as familiar with as the back of your hands. You turned to him, swiping sweaty strands of hair out of your face, glowing with a smile as he stuttered his way through it, and said I know the game. We don't have to talk about it.

He insisted that it wasn't a game, that you deserved transparency and to be treated well, and you rolled over on top of him and kissed him until he forgot his own name.

During the month-long recovery period, you had resumed the friendship you had had in the early months of knowing each other, refusing adamantly to do anything strenuous or even unsportsmanly while you had to work much more closely together than ever before. You insist on sleeping at your own apartment for the first week, afraid of aggravating his injuries further, until he threatens to walk to you with his pillow and sleepover bag. You bring him food near-daily and call his brother when your schedule prevents you from doing so.

He's diligent about doing the exercises and stretches you assign him to bring him back to full functionality. Towards the end of his detention (you pinch him for using such a dramatic word), you start taking walks together, in the evenings on work days and the mornings on days off.

You keep expecting him to ask for space, to push you out of his daily routine, to realize that he's bored because he knows everything about you; there's nothing left to hide. Nothing except the one unspoken thing, the one you're sure he knows but you can't acknowledge.

New growth is beginning to sprout on the trees, grey wood dotted with little specks of bright green. Atsumu walks without a limp, now, his posture straight but relaxed, his hands shoved into his pockets.

His body is healed, but his heart aches. You're wearing casual clothes, big soft pants that billow around your legs and a black shirt with his name in yellow letters, and you look far away, worried. No matter how many times he smooths the pinch between your brows away with his thumb, no matter how many times he asks what's wrong, you refuse him a straight answer.

He wonders if he's pulled you too close, in this month dying of boredom, forbidden from running and setting and anything that could damage his brain. He still gets to see you in the morning, your back arching as you stretch and yawn, the crinkle of your nose when your feet touch the cold floor outside of bed, which is probably slowly draining all the function from his grey matter.

You're wearing gloves, your extremities sensitive to the cold. He takes your left hand, tugs it off. When he tangles your fingers together, you look up at him, questioningly, that knot between your brows back again.

"What, woman, now I can't hold your hand?"

You stop walking. He curses his big, fat mouth. He always chooses the wrong thing to say, always has.

Osamu used to ask him what he was supposed to say to girls. Atsumu, proud big brother that he wanted to be, would puff out his chest and give him paragraphs of advice, and Osamu almost never used it. There were so few opportunities for him to advise Samu, though; he was so self-sufficient, maybe more than Atsumu had ever been. He was more introverted, less brash and crass and rude. Sometimes, when Atsumu ceded his insistence on being the wiser one with six more minutes of life experience, he wished he could be more like his twin.

"Do you love me like that, Atsumu?" You ask, mouth pressed into an unhappy line, already pulling away from him like you were expecting him to say something completely insane. "Because I understood fucking, and being friends with benefits, but I don't know if I get going out for food and holding hands and—"

"Like?" He says, refusing to let your hand slip from his. "I love you. That's it."

"Oh," you say, and your mouth is twisted up like you're searching for something he can't see again, but the crease in your forehead is gone.

"You gonna go out with me?" He says, and it comes out way easier than he ever thought it would, and if choosing the rest of his life is as simple a decision as chasing volleyball and you has been, growing up sounds way better than he thought. "'Cause I wanna do it all with you."

Once Atsumu's allowed to drink again, it's time for the real volleyball season to start, and his diet becomes much stricter and your schedule much longer, but eventually the two of you find yourselves back at the same old bar with the rest of the team.

"You're a scrub with no hope of survival in the zombie apocalypse," sneers Atsumu. This is a common topic of conversation among them; each one vying to be the leader of your hypothetical ragged survivors' team.

"I could win a fight against you with one hand tied behind my back," snits Tomas, who usually is oblivious to Atsumu's provocations but gets a lot feistier when he's drunk, to the setter's delight.

"Please don't," says Bokuto, his hair deflating in fear of his friends fighting.

"Haven't you had enough dick measuring," says Sakusa, holding a mug in front of his face like it'll prevent him from seeing Atsumu's and thus pretending he's not there.

"Have you guys ever done that?" You perk up, looking around. "Isn't that supposed to be a locker room ritual?"

"In high school, maybe," snorts Barnes. "We're way too old for that now."

"Yeah, we're real mature," insists Bokuto, his hair bouncing back up into its familiar two-pronged shape. You’ve long wondered how it does that, but if working with MSBY has taught you anything, it’s that science can’t explain everything.

You nod, taking another sip of your beer.

“So how big is it?” Atsumu addresses Sakusa and you squeeze your eyes shut. You just got him to start attending team bonding nights.

“Small. Leave me alone.” You choke on your drink, spluttering as you make eye contact with Sakusa and the tiny, prideful smirk on his face.

The rest of the team dissolves into laughter.

"What about you?" Hinata, his cheeks rosy, says to Atsumu. Before you can think, your drunken mouth speaks for you.

"You can’t have it, I called dibs!”

You slap a hand over your mouth, mortified. You can’t even begin to think about the rest of your coworker’s reactions. You haven’t even disclosed your relationship yet! Atsumu guffaws.

“I don’t think anyone’s trying to take it from ya, doll.”

[ateezscupid]

─── FEB FILTH FEST: Birthday - BREEDING ♡

SUMMARY / Adorable newlyweds, and your husband seems stuck on wanting to have kids.

warnings ✩ SMUT, FLUFF, switch! wooyoung, dom!reader, fem!reader, established relationship, you two just got married, reader is insecure, unprotected sex, light body worship, praise, oral (m), mommy kink

word count ✩ 2,26k

tags ✩ @desirehorizon @tangerineastronaut @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @starillusion13 @mingitheskzstan @bbdeongi @dawn-iscozy @xh01bri @mallielovssyou @clxssy1997 @soreberry @nopension@kitten4sannie@faeriehwas@lustfxq @ashistrashhhhhh

ATEEZ MASTERLIST / REQUEST / FEB FILTH FEST

"Wooyoung, look at this!" you stand from the couch holding your laptop, running over to his desk and sitting your computer next to his. "These curtains would like nice in our room, right? They're so cute!"

Wooyoung glances over at the screen, smiling slightly. "Sure, love, whatever you want. Just don't let your online shopping exceed the budget," he jokes, his eyes not leaving his spreadsheet.

You roll your eyes playfully. "As if you ever care about the budget," you tease, nudging his shoulder with yours. He chuckles and finally looks up, his eyes scanning the webpage briefly before nodding in agreement.

"What's that?" he referred to the recommended items under the one you were looking at.

"Oh. Curtains for baby rooms." Your voice trails off as you realize what you've clicked on. You furrow your eyebrows and stare at them for a while, causing Wooyoung to stare at you.

"You…okay? You're staring at the screen like you want to blow it up." Wooyoung's voice pierces through the silence, a hint of concern in his tone.

You laugh nervously, "Yeah, sorry, just lost in thought." You quickly switch tabs to hide the baby products, feeling your cheeks warm up. "It's nothing."

He smirked a little bit. "No, cmon! Tell me! Did you see something weird?" He leans over, trying to get a peek at the hidden tab.

You swat his hand away. "It's just… I've been thinking about our future a lot lately."

Wooyoung sits up straight in his chair, his smile widening. "And what does our future look like?

You bite your lip, trying to figure out the best way to bring up the topic that's been weighing on your mind. "Well, it's just… I know you've talked about starting a family soon."

"A lot. I've been talking about it a lot. I keep sending you cute baby videos and you act like you don't see them." he blinks at you with his innocent puppy eyes.

You can't help but laugh at his persistence. "I see them. I just don't always know what to say." You admit, your heart racing as you prepare to share your feelings. "But, it's not like I don't want kids I just…"

"You just…? What?" Wooyoung asks, his smile fading slightly as he senses your hesitance.

You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. "I just--I see all those videos of moms who's body change so much when they're pregnant and some of their husbands leave them. It scares me." You finally spit out.

Wooyoung's smile fades completely as he looks at you seriously. "What? Who would do that?"

You shrug, feeling a bit embarrassed. "I don't know. I've heard of it happening. Plus, there's all the stress and responsibility that comes with having kids. I think I'm ready for all that! Just…not the physical part…"

"Well, I'd never leave you. And we can always support each other through the tough parts," Wooyoung says gently, placing his hand on your thigh. His thumb makes small circles, trying to soothe your nerves. "And however your body changes, I won't stop thinking you're hot."

You give him a weak smile, feeling a bit better. "Thanks, but it's not just that. It's everything. The diapers, the crying, the sleepless nights…"

"And I'll do it all if I have to." Wooyoung's voice is firm and reassuring. He stands up from his chair and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into him. "But we don't have to rush into anything. We can wait until you're ready. We're young, we have time."

"No, I -- I do want kids! I'm super sure of that! A-And I don't mind doing all the mom stuff! Just, y'know, what if I turn into some ugly goblin." You laugh nervously, trying to lighten the mood.

Wooyoung looks into your eyes, his gaze serious. "You'll never be a goblin to me. You'll be the most beautiful mom, because you're beautiful inside and out." His words hit you like a warm embrace, wrapping around your insecurities and giving you a comforting squeeze.

"You'll be gorgeous carrying my baby," he kissed your cheek. "Walkin' around all pregnant and happy, I'd love that."

"Ewww, it sounds like you have a breeding kink." you tease him, trying to lighten the mood with a playful giggle.

Wooyoung just stared at you and didn't answer. You stare back and gasp lightly, "You do, don't you?"

He instantly got red. "N-No! I don't I just-"

"It's fine if you do! You wanna get me pregnant that bad-?!" You laugh, poking him in the stomach. His cheeks turn a deep shade of red, but he doesn't pull away. Instead, he tightens his embrace, his arms secure around you.

"…Oh my god, Wooyoung-" you pause. "Are you hard-?!"

Wooyoung's eyes widen and he clears his throat, trying to maintain eye contact. "….Maybe."

You burst into laughter, poking him again. "Oh my god, you do! You're so adorable!" You lean into his embrace, feeling his heartbeat against your chest. It's comforting, a steady rhythm that calms your racing thoughts.

"Can we go deal with…this though?!" he gulped gesturing toward his bulge. You couldn't help but laugh at his sudden shyness, a stark contrast to his usual playful demeanor.

"Aw, yes baby." You say, a playful smirk forming on your lips as you slide your hand down to grip his hardening erection through his pants. "Let's go to the bedroom, shall we?"

He nods and you pull him along, his hand in yours as you lead him to the bedroom. The tension in the air shifts from the previous conversation, now charged with a different kind of excitement. As you enter the room, Wooyoung locks the door behind you, his eyes never leaving yours. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, his desire for you as palpable as the air around you.

"You want me to touch you?" you ask coyly, your voice low and sultry as you trace a line from his neck to his collarbone with your finger. Wooyoung nods eagerly, his eyes darkening with lust as he watches your every move. You lean in closer, your breath tickling his ear as you whisper, "Where do you want me to touch you?"

"Baby, please." Wooyoung's voice is low, a pleading whisper that sends shivers down your spine. You feel empowered, knowing you have this effect on him. You bite your lower lip, your eyes scanning his body hungrily as you decide where to begin. You decide to tease him a bit more, tracing the outline of his erection through his pants, feeling it throb under your touch.

"No, let's use a different name…" you go silent for a minute. "Mommy, maybe? You like that?" You say with a mischievous grin.

Wooyoung's eyes widen and he swallows hard. "Yeah, I like that," he breathes, his voice thick with desire. You both laugh, the tension dissipating as you both embrace the playfulness of the moment.

"Yeah?" you tug at his sweatpants. "You want mommy to make you feel good?"

Wooyoung's eyes are glued to yours, his breathing hitched. "Yeah," he manages to get out. You smirk, feeling a thrill at the power play. You push him back gently onto the bed, straddling him. He watches as you pull his pants down, revealing his thick cock. You lean down, your eyes never leaving his, and wrap your lips around the tip. He groans, his hands coming up to tangle in your hair.

"F-Fuck," Wooyoung gasps as you start to bob your head, taking him deeper into your mouth. His hands tighten their grip on your hair, guiding you as you find a rhythm that makes him squirm beneath you. You can feel his cock pulse with every stroke, and you know you're driving him wild.

"M-Mommy-" Wooyoung's voice is a needy whine that sends a thrill down your spine. You suck harder, feeling his cock swell in your mouth. Every other time you sucked him off, it felt different. But now, with the new dynamic, it's like you're discovering each other all over again. You let one hand stroke him while the other moved down your body, pushing under your pants.

Your own arousal is evident as you feel how wet you've become. You pushed him down your throat, feeling his cock hit the back of it and gag, only to pull back and do it again. Wooyoung's hips start to thrust upward slightly, his control slipping as he gets lost in the pleasure. You can feel his heart racing under your palm where it's resting on his chest, his breaths coming in short, sharp bursts.

"I-I'm gonna come-" Wooyoung warns, his voice strained with pleasure. You moan around his cock, the vibration sending him over the edge. He comes in your mouth and you swallow, feeling a sense of satisfaction wash over you. You sit back, licking your lips as you watch him catch his breath.

"Lay back," you stand, pushing your pants and underwear down, revealing your wet pussy. "Let mommy take care of herself now." You climb onto the bed, your heart racing with excitement as you straddle his hips.

"You're so pretty," he says, his voice still shaky from his orgasm. He watches as you hover above him, his eyes fixated on your glistening core.

"Am I?" you giggle, rubbing yourself back and forth on his cock, which is already starting to harden again. "You like watching?"

"Mhm," he nods, his eyes not leaving the sight of your pussy gently brushing against his cock. You lean back, supporting yourself on your hands, and lower yourself down onto him. He gasps as you take him in, inch by inch, his length stretching you open. You've done this countless times before, but the new name play has added an extra layer of excitement to the act.

"Fuck-" he inhales sharply. "M-Mommy, you're so tight," he groans, his eyes rolling back as you start to move. You bounce up and down on him, your walls clenching around his cock as you ride him. The sensation of being filled up by him while calling him 'baby' is new and exhilarating.

"I-I love you, your body, everything…" he stammers, his voice thick with pleasure as you rock against him. You lean forward, pressing your breasts against his chest as you start to pick up the pace, your movements growing more urgent. The room is filled with the sound of skin slapping together and your moans of pleasure.

He wraps his fingers in your hair, his other hand on your back. "Don't stop-" he begs, his eyes closed as he feels you ride him with an intensity that borders on desperation. You lean down and kiss him, your tongues dancing as you move together. His taste is still on your lips, a mix of salt and sweetness that drives you wild.

"God, I want your cum so bad," you chuckle, your voice breathless as you ride him, the feeling of his cock moving inside you making your walls quiver. "I bet you wanna fill me up so bad."

Wooyoung's eyes snap open, his gaze fiery as he looks up at you. "Mommy," he says, the word slipping out almost involuntarily. "I'm going to come."

"Yes, baby, come for mommy," you whisper, your voice a siren's call as you continue to bounce on his cock. The idea of him filling you up, breeding you, sends a thrill through your body that only intensifies your desire. You feel your own orgasm approaching as you lean into the role, your hips moving faster and more erratically.

"Fill me up," you purr, playing into his newfound kink. You can feel his cock twitch inside you, his body taut with anticipation. You lean back, arching your spine as you increase your rhythm, watching his expression contort with pleasure. The power of bringing him to the edge like this, calling him 'baby' in such a way, is intoxicating.

Wooyoung shut his eyes tightly and gripped your hips, his body trembling as you whispered those words into his ear. The thought of you actually being full of his cum once he filled you up was too much for him to handle. He felt his orgasm building as your pussy clenched around his cock.

"Cmon, give it to me. Get me pregnant," you say in a playful but urgent tone. "I wanna have your kids."

"Mommy-" he gasped, his hips jerking upwards as he felt his orgasm approaching. "I-I'm gonna f-fill you up," he groaned, his voice thick with lust. He moaned as his load emptied into you, the sensation of his hot seed filling you making him shiver with pleasure.

But you didn't stop. You kept going, bouncing up and down on his cock as he spurted his cum deep inside you. "Mm, yeah, baby," you murmur, feeling his warmth fill you up. "Give me all of it." Wooyoung's eyes fly open in surprise, his orgasm hitting harder than he expected as he watches you take his cum hungrily. His hips thrust upward, pushing himself deeper into you, his hands digging into your hips as he releases his seed.

"O-Oh my god-!" he gasps, his eyes rolling back in pleasure as he feels you milking his cock for every last drop. "Y-You're so fucking good at this," he stammers, his voice laced with awe. The taboo nature of the role play has unlocked a primal need in him, and you can see it in the way he looks at you - with a mix of love and raw desire.

[revelboo]

Anyway your posts keep me sane while I have my mom in the hospital. Thank you for your writing 💕 can I request more of Steve? Whenever you are ready I love him so much 😂

Sure and I hope she’s doing okay

Coin-Operated Boy Pt 3

Vehicons x Reader

• Can’t understand you. Can’t understand your kindness. Helping him even though there’s nothing in it for you. But it means so much to him, servos hesitantly brushing your arm as you tape the last tear and smile up at him. Like this is normal, helping someone you don’t even know with nothing to gain. Is this just an organic thing? Or just you? “That’s the best I can do, sorry,” you say. Apologizing that you hadn’t been able to completely help repair him. Like you think you didn’t do enough.

• Suddenly aware of the fact that he’s curled forward, head brushing yours and the tips of his servos grazing your arm, you back nervously back away. Reminding yourself that just because he’s docile right now doesn’t mean he’s safe. And his arm slowly lowers as his head tips to study your pitiful repair job. He’s not bleeding out whatever his glowing stuff is anymore, but that’s all you’d managed. “I can check and see if the coast is clear, if you want?” You ask and his head tips making you think he doesn’t understand the saying. Walking to the door, you push it open and look outside. Don’t see anyone around now. Whoever made him has to be looking for him, though. “I think you’re okay now. Do you remember how to open the garage door?” Watching as his head slowly dips in a nod, you relax. “For what it’s worth, I hope whoever hurt you doesn’t catch you.”

• Watches you head back up those stairs into the main building, leaving him to rest. Servos flexing, he swears he can still feel those soft, gentle hands on him. Venting, he reluctantly crawls to the bigger door and carefully pokes the little button, hearing something crunch under his servo, but the door slowly rises enough that he can awkwardly crawl out. Knows he’s still far too weak, but he can at least walk to the nearest energon mine for help. His self repair systems trying to deal with the damage now that he’s not losing so much energon. Thanks to you.

• When you open the door to the garage to check on your new friend, you’re not really surprised that he’s gone. It’s not like he’s some stray cat that you can just keep. He’s a giant, crazy advanced robot. And someone did that damage to him, someone you’d rather not deal with. Heading back inside to fix some dinner, you smile despite yourself, wishing Steve good luck wherever he is.

• No one believes him, but that’s not really surprising. They’re cloned soldiers. Expendable. So someone treating them with not only respect, but kindness? He gets it. Gets that the others doubt him. Grimacing as Knockout works on repairing him, he keeps thinking about you. And realizes that he wants to repay you somehow. There must be something he can do for you. What do little organics even like? Maybe some of the other Vehicons know?

Previous

[hitomisuzuya]

stepcest, DNI if it makes you uncomfortable. smut. scummy scara. cunnilingus. semi public.

i meant to have this written a lot sooner than this. have a wonderful night, everyone.

scaramouche has it all planned out.

your figurative date that didn't really exist suddenly flakes on you. then scaramouche valiantly swoops in to take you out instead. it's what a good stepbrother would do after all. that way, he could take you on your real valentine's day date. the moms would none the wiser.

everything goes off without a hitch, and later that evening scaramouche is spoiling you (and himself) with his credit card. even though you now have access to the same trust fund, and could pay for things on your own, he didn't care. he is going to do what he wants with his money and that's spend it on you.

as for his treat(s), first was a stop at the lingerie boutique.

the girls at the checkout counter are the none the wiser either. to them, he looks like your boyfriend giving his opinion as you shyly model lingerie for him. they didn't know your boyfriend was also your stepbrother.

imagining various ways to ruin you in whatever he picks off the racks. standing there giving careful consideration about how your breasts would spill out of the bras. about how the panties would look soaked and clinging wet to your pussy.

about how the lingerie would look scattered and torn all over the floor next to the bed while he has you on all fours, your back arched and your face buried in his pillows while he fucks his thick cock inside your tight little cunt from behind. mewling and moaning about how good your stepbrother's cock feels inside of you.

there is one image that can't get out of his head as he waits for you to emerge from the dressing room, his cock twitching with anticipation: how you would look hastily pulling your bra down off your breasts to play with and pinch your nipples. grinding your pussy needily on his mouth while he fucks your hole with his pierced tongue.

"will you come in and help me with this clasp?" was the innocent question that led to him on his knees in the dressing room, teasing his tongue piercing on your clit outside of your panties.

"sc-scara, someone m-might see," you said, your tone quiet and shaky. you are struggling to keep yourself from moaning. you shiver as his fingers graze over your thighs. the door to the dressing room is closed, but anybody walking by could very clearly he is on his knees in front of you.

"hm?" scaramouche purrs nonchalantly. frankly, he doesn't really care. the girls working at the checkout are far more interested in their phones due to the slow hour.

the moment he'd seen you in a particularly lacy, see through set he picked out, a shy blush on your cheeks wondering if you look okay when you asked him. he'd immediately dropped to his knees in worship. you look much, much more than okay.

the outline of your swollen clit was poking up against your panties, his saliva quickly soaking the thin fabric. he smirks as he moves your panties to the side, looking up at you with a raised eyebrow.

a teasing gesture that said: well then, you'd better be quiet so no one will hear you. hear you struggling not moan like a total slut while your stepbrother eats you out in the dressing room.

his licks are languid and slow. he knows he'll have to stop soon before he gets too hard. before he starts muffling moans into your pussy, drunk on the taste of you. so why not enjoy himself while he can?

you clamp a hand over your mouth as he scoops your clit into his mouth to suck on. you lean back against the dressing room wall, giving you leeway to hold his mouth against your pussy and grind on his mouth.

scaramouche could see you wrestling with yourself as your hips roll into his mouth. he slowly wags the ball of his tongue piercing around your clit, enjoying the show. your eyes kept darting to the door for a moment, wondering just how much and how long you could grind your pussy on his mouth. a feeble to attempt to satisfy the throbbing in your clit.

seeing you glance away from him, he pulls away to give your clit a wet tap as he glares up at you. a reminder of your place and keep your attention on him.

your legs shake as pleasure jolts through you. your eyes widen realizing a moan had been dangerously close to coming out. his mouth just felt so fucking good.

scaramouche loops an arm around your hips, holding your pussy on his mouth. his tongue dips down to prod at your quivering hole before sweeping back up to your clit. he smirks in approval watching you look back down at him.

your fingers tighten in his hair as he returns to assaulting your clit. you are wondering how long you can last when suddenly he cruelly takes his mouth off of your pussy.

"wear this out," he says, snapping off the pricetag so he could pay for it with the rest. standing up, he kisses you, forcing you to taste yourself on his lips. he hates to stop now, but he was getting too hard.

your positions would be reversed when he took you home. you would be on your knees for him, kitten licking his cock. amongst other things. his next stop is the sex shop down the road from the mall.