#hope u enjoy anon!!

[hotcat37]

Puppy play Bojan moodboard?

Woof woof 🐾 (it's intended as a non sexual puppy play moodboard but ofc feel free to interpret however you want!)

[tickle-bugs]

Lil idea for the 3 Peter Parkers!

Peter 1, the youngest, often gets snarky with the older two "brothers". They both eventually decide theyve had enough of his jabs about their age, and team up on him, working together to tickle him to bits and teach him to respect his elders

Attitude Adjustment

Okay so if you’re like me and literally can’t keep the numbers straight: peter one (referred to just as Peter here) is tom holland’s spidey, peter two is tobey maguire’s, and peter three is andrew garfield’s. I felt SO silly writing in the numbers but there really is no other way LOL

Also, au where they’re in sort of a Spiderverse situation and the other spideys are trying to figure out how to get back to their dimensions. Absolutely no canon, just vibes. 

“Hey Pete? How do you work this thing?” Peter Two huffs and flails his hands around through the holographic energy core in front of him. It spins listlessly, unsure how to interpret his gestures, and beeps at him. 

“Comin’.” Peter rolls off the couch, chucking his phone onto the rickety coffee table. His new place was small, achingly so, but it was starting to come together nicely. He had pictures on the walls, a rug on the worst spot of the floor, and a bedframe. All progress was good progress. 

“Show me how you’re doing it?” Peter squishes beside Two, who sort of swats at the hologram like an irritating bug. 

“Oh, okay. So, uh, the hologram maps its movements according to your fingertips. If it can’t get a good read, it’s not gonna respond. Here, like this.” Peter pulls his hands into the projected image, twitching his fingertips and twirling his wrists. The simulated core spins and zooms at his whim. Eventually, the image flashes green, and a small loading bar picks up at the bottom. 

“Neat.” Peter Two watches in awe as the computer begins to synthesize his formula. He idly spins the image around. “We didn’t have anything like this growing up. It’s crazy.”

“Glad I could help, grandpa.” Peter grins, giving Two’s shoulder a good-natured squeeze. Two rolls his eyes and shoos him away. 

“What a nice young man, helping the elderly,” Peter Three hums from the ceiling, typing away at his laptop as if his life depends on it. He looks a bit like a goblin, or maybe a vampire, hunched over all of them. 

“I do my part.” Peter salutes, flips back over the couch, and pulls his phone back into his hand with a web. He’d lost his place in the Fantastic Four interview he was reading. He sighs. 

“You both are hilarious,” Peter Two grumbles, watching a holographic array of complex mathematics spin in front of him. 

Peter sinks down into the couch, into the quiet buzz of technology and Peter Three’s terrifying typing. It’s not silence, not quite, but it still gnaws into his bones in a way he doesn’t like. He’s been avoiding being Peter as much as he can lately, instead staying out on patrol as late as his body can handle. Collapsing on a rooftop as Spider-Man is easier than coming back to Peter Parker’s shithole apartment. 

Spending time with people like him, people who get it, it’s…nice. Steadying. He knows it’s going to crush him when they leave, but having them now is more than he could ever ask for. He has no one, but he has them. 

“Hey.” Peter leans over the back of the couch and waves at Three. “Need help?”

“Hm? No, I’m good. Still compiling that list of compatible metals. Hoping to keep this matter projector the size of a rubix cube. Or, worst case scenario, like a suitcase.” Peter Three gnaws at his lip, then squints at his screen. He flings out a web and snags his glasses, catching them out of midair. He puts them on with care, pinning the laptop to his upside-down lap with his free hand. After fiddling with the lenses, he gets them to balance properly. 

“You’re still squinting.” Peter chuckles. 

“It’s part of the creative process.” Three waves an idle hand, then squints more aggressively. “I, uh--I’ve got shit eyesight. It’s fine.”

“The spider bite didn’t fix your vision?” Peter furrows his brow. 

“It did, but I wrecked it again. Too much blue light, too many flashbangs to the face--it all takes a toll, y’know? You should be grateful your eyes still work. Take care of them while you have them.” Peter Three nods sagely. He grabs his mug of long-cold coffee with a web and brings it carefully to his hands. He sips, gags, then comes back for more. 

“Okay, dad.” Peter huffs with no venom. He tries not to be jealous that Three can drink upside down. He’s tried. Repeatedly. 

“You have a remarkable amount of attitude for someone so tiny.” Three stares at him over the rim of his glasses, which shouldn’t be as funny as it is. Peter snorts. 

“Right? It’s his tone,” Peter Two hums. The computer chirps at him that his equation is only sixty percent viable, would you like to try again? He thunks his head into the desk. Three’s mug slowly lowers itself down beside him. Two takes a sip, gags, and deposits the mug in the sink. Three balls up a piece of paper and throws it at his head. 

“Alright, I’m starting to go a little stir crazy. How about we take a break?” Peter Two stretches, popping something in his back. He does the ‘keys, wallet, phone’ patdown on himself, turning in circles to make sure he’s set. 

“Like a patrol break?” Peter perks up. 

“No, a dinner break. I’m starving, and God knows when you two last ate. Or slept.” Two hazards a glance towards Three. 

“Oh, I’m good. Go without me.” Peter Three keeps typing. Two’s glare chills the room a few degrees. He pointedly clears his throat. 

“Y’know what, actually? A break sounds great. Super on board with the, uh, the break time.” Peter Three closes his laptop and flips down off the ceiling. He stumbles as he lands, hissing in pain. The laptop goes flying, but Peter just manages to snag it with a web. He cradles it to his chest. 

“Thanks.” Three nods. Peter nods back. The room collectively sighs in relief. 

“Is it your, uh--” Two maneuvers to support Three as best he can. They limp over to the corner of the kitchen together. 

“My back, yeah. Shitshitshit.” Peter Three inhales tightly and leans up against the counter. He tips his head back against the cabinets and focuses on breathing. 

“It just, uh--well, it locks up sometimes. No clue why.” Three shrugs, then winces. 

“I think I have some painkillers. If it’ll help.” Peter sets the laptop down. Three smiles thinly at him. 

“I’ll take you up on that. I’m usually fine after a few minutes. Just gotta wait it out.” Three winces again, gripping the countertop hard. The cheap vinyl cracks with the force of it. Peter tries not to wonder if he’ll have to pay for that--instead, he fishes out the pitifully empty bottle from his coffin-sized bathroom. 

“Gimme your hands.” Peter Two crowds in front of Three and starts helping him stretch, slow and steady. After a heart-wrenching cry of pain, Three hums appreciatively. He twists side to side, working out as many sore spots as he can. Peter shakes the bottle at him and tosses it. He catches it and dry swallows the pills. 

“Hm.” Peter leans against the wall. 

“What?” Two huffs.

“Nothing.” Peter shakes his head with a smile. Fondness blooms warm in his chest. May used to tell him that he’s the only person who knows how to take care of himself best, what he needs. He wonders if she ever thought it would manifest this way. 

“Alright, c’mon. What old man joke are you sitting on right now?” Two crosses his arms. His amusement is contagious. 

“I wasn’t going to make fun of you!” Peter laughs.

“One day you’re gonna be a twenty-something with a bad back. You’re gonna be like ‘oh wise and mysterious Peter, please help me with my ailing spine’. Then you’ll get it.” Three grunts. He loudly cracks something in his back and all of them wince. 

“What am I gonna do? Do a backbend over your walker?” Peter snickers. Three gasps and splutters, sending both of them into actual laughter. They’re terrible influences on each other. 

“You are such a brat.” Two chuckles, mostly in disbelief. Peter sticks his tongue out at him. 

“Were you like this?” Two jerks a thumb toward Peter. Three quirks a smile and regards Peter for a bit--the defiant jut of his chin and the fire in his eyes are heartwarming. 

“I mean…yeah. Kinda. Just tall.” Three smirks.

“I’m not short.” Peter scoffs. Two and Three exchange a glance. Three leans on Peter’s head. Peter swats his arm away. 

“You’re barely taller than me!” Peter huffs, throwing his hands in the air. 

“First step is acceptance, buddy.” Two pats his shoulder. “Let’s get our shawarma on.”

Peter Three stifles his laughter into his fist, squinting in mirth through crooked glasses. Peter groans, smacking his face into his palm. He’s hiding a smile, though, and it makes Two smile in turn. 

“What?”

“Let’s get our shawarma on?” Peter snickers, his shoulders shaking. 

“Yeah, I can’t defend you. That was corny.” Three leans into Peter and soon they’re both giggling, set off by each other’s goofiness. 

“You sound like a dad!” Peter giggles. 

“Scratch that. We’re not going anywhere until we cure you of this attitude.” Two raises an eyebrow. Peter giggles at him which, while adorable, Two cannot stand for. 

“You gonna send me to my room? Ground me? Oooh, I’m so scared--” Peter snorts, then he’s upside down. Peter Two’s got him around the waist like a sack of potatoes. He lets out an affronted squeak and tries to reach for the floor. 

“Whatareyoudoing--” All the breath leaves Peter in a hefty woosh as Two worms his fingers into his sides. He squeals, his legs flailing wildly. He tries to pry Two’s hands away but gravity isn’t his friend at the moment. 

“Spider deterrent,” Two says, deathly serious, but Peter can hear him smiling. Bastard. 

“Nononohoho! Tickling is cheating!” Peter cackles, all hope of playing tough long gone with his breath. No matter which way he tilts, Two’s fingers are waiting to torment him--and he seems to have quickly figured out just how deathly ticklish his stomach is. Almost like he knew already. 

“I didn’t know there were rules--” Peter Two ducks out of the way of an accidental kick-- “Hey! Violence is not the answer!”

“Gonna v-violence your stuhupid fahahace! Lemme go!” Peter growls, prying at Two’s wrists again. Two tuts at him and vibrates his fingers into Peter’s stomach. He shrieks and kicks his legs, all pent-up energy with nowhere to go. 

“Aren’t you gonna help?” Peter gasps at Three, his voice way higher pitched than he’d like. His face is redder than his suit, little giggles still slipping free. He’s (mostly) deathly serious about murdering Two if he can just get out of this. 

“Yeah, come help!” Two grins, beckoning Three over with a tilt of the head. Peter Three disappears out of Peter’s line of sight and he allows himself an evil grin. 

“We’re gonna kick your--” Peter loses the last half of his threat to a yelp, then frenetic giggling as Three claws at his ribs. Peter screeches in betrayal and tries to swat at him, but he’s far from coordinated and it tickles, oh my god--

“Sorry. More afraid of him than I am of you.” Peter Three grins sheepishly, but his eyes shine with mischief. He walks his fingers up under Peter’s arms and he screeches loud enough to make a dog down the hall start barking. He lets out a snort and desperate syllables tumble out to follow. He manages to elbow Two in the gut and nearly gets dropped on his head for the trouble.

“S-Sorry! Tickles!” Peter hiccups and clamps his arms to his sides. 

“You are so squirmy!” Two tosses him over the back of the shitty couch. Peter squeals at the sudden change in gravity, but then he’s squealing because they both follow him over the couch. 

“I-I’m gonna get a noise complaint! Guys!” Peter throws his head back against the armrest and cackles, shoving at the two of them. He’s not sure where the ceiling is anymore, everything’s sort of spinning, but the slight burn in his chest is grounding. 

“Alright, alright.” Two lays off and Three follows suit. Peter flings his arm over his face and tries to remember the sweet embrace of oxygen.

“Oho man. You guys suck.” Peter peeks at them with a goofy smile. 

“Spider deterrent. Works like a charm.” Two puts his hands on his hips. Three leans up behind him and goes to poke his side, but Two catches his hand. 

“Don’t. Do not.” Two points at Three threateningly. Three holds his hands up in surrender, but his grin is anything but innocent. He and Peter lock eyes.

“Spider deterrent, huh?” Peter leans up on his elbows with a cocky grin. “Every experiment needs multiple trials, right?”

“You’re both menaces.” Two grapples with Three, occasionally twitching but still putting up a fight. Peter manages to poke him a few times and get his arm caught, but Two can’t fight both of them.

A hush befalls the room as Peter Two visibly weighs his options, trying not to crack from Three’s pinching at his ribs. 

Two throws himself over the couch, followed by Three, and Peter eggs them on from the safety of the couch. It’s like watching cats wrestle, really--there’s an indistinguishable tangle of limbs and shouting before Peter Three’s shocked cackle emerges from the pile. 

“P-Peter! Help!” Three wheezes, holding his hand out for rescue.

“Oh, you want my help? Yeah, sure, I’ll help.” Peter cackles evilly, kicking off the couch and launching himself at Three.

“Wait, hold on--”

…

“98 percent viable. We did it,” Peter Two breathes, holding the hologram in his hands. The simulated core spins lazily. After hours of calibration and recalibration, the algorithm finally holds steady. Three squeezes his shoulder and laughs quietly, happily. They’re going home. 

“Should we tell him?” Three casts a glance over to the couch. Peter’s out cold, curled up under a threadbare blanket that refuses to let go of its musty smell. Despite the bags under his eyes, he looks peaceful. 

“Tomorrow. You both still owe me shawarma.” Two smiles, knocking their shoulders together. 

[hinamie]

to moving forward

[majunju]

[meownotgood]

any recommendations for viktor smut?

of course!!! my favorite viktor fic ever is academy excellence by gaybybirth, I've read it a ton of times, the tension is sooo good so if you have time and want to build before the smut it's perfect... also they have this collection of more really great fics (every lover is a madman is my fave out of the collection, but I've read all of them countless times lol)

the necessary energy by nokwisi was one of the first viktor fics I read and it hasn't left my mind since. I also recommend whatever it takes, I come back to that one like monthly

if you want to fuck viktor and jayce, my favorite jayvik + reader fics are oak, moss, rain and what crumbles, what remains by weltraum_vaquero. but they also have reflections which is a solo viktor fic, super amazing (and lots of great jayce fics if you're into him)

if you want to fuck machine herald viktor, highly recommend synaptic spark by heraldeez. you can't convince me viktor wouldn't make his own equipment. if you know what I mean

finally, if you want a modern au fic, I love down horrendous by emeraldiis, honestly I read the stuff before the smut all the time because vik is so damn cute. and omg... do I love a good kiss scene...

[shalomniscient]

hiii i have a request 🥹🥹 if possible, could you write a comfort fic with himeko or kafka and reader? reader who has trouble sleeping or has been exhausted from missions, going straight to himeko's room after returning to the astral express and just melting into her arms. or, reader who hasn't seen kafka in a while and just really misses her, needs her to put her mind at ease, so kafka drops by the express unexpectedly and spends the night taking care of reader. can be either sfw or nsfw, I dont mind either 🥹

omg this is so cute! i’ll do both ;)

SLEEPLESS NIGHTS || hsr x reader

cw. nudity

notes. dunno why i felt the need to mention this but this fic operates on established relationship between reader/character, just fyi :)

HIMEKO

Trailblazing was never going to be easy. You knew this, and you accepted it. To walk the path of Akivili was to lend a helping hand to whosoever needed it. And you do enjoy it—the feeling of making a change in the vast universe, shoulder to shoulder with companions that you would give your life for, and who would do the same for you. You wouldn’t give up your spot on the Astral Express for the world.

But you are only human, at the end of the day.

You’ve been taking back-to-back missions recently, and it’s slowly taking its toll on you. As a more experienced Nameless with many years under your belt, your assistance is slightly more prized over the younger crew—not to say they were incapable. Dan Heng and March alone made a terrifying duo, which was only exacerbated when Stelle joined the mix. But at the end of the day, they’re still a little green and wet behind the ears, so any of the harder jobs tend to fall to you or Welt. And with Welt supervising them on the Luofu, that just left you.

Your footsteps are heavy as you drag yourself back onto the Express. There’s a rip in your jacket from where a Mara-struck soldier tried to slash at you, and several small cuts all over your fingers from the cutting wind of the Disciples. The Luofu had commissioned your blade to quell the number of Mara-struck still roaming around, but for every six you strike down, another dozen seem to take their place.

You sigh as you flop onto one of the many couches on the Express, letting your weapon clatter onto the ground. You’re sore, tired, and aching—all you want to do now is sink into your pillows and sleep, but you have to clean up first. You shut your eyes with another weary noise, deciding to rest up a little before heading to your cabin. Or, shared cabin, rather.

A gentle tap on your shoulder stirs you from your brief rest. You crack your eyes open, and are met with a gentle, golden gaze—it’s Himeko. She’s foregone her usual attire, instead dressed in simple nightwear now, a blanket around her shoulders.

“Hey,” you rasp out. “Were you about to go to bed?”

She shakes her head, smiling softly. “No, I was waiting for you.”

“Ah. Sorry, I must’ve kept you up for a while then.”

“It’s alright,” Himeko says, picking up your weapon off the ground, and placing it inside one of the secure compartments beneath the seats. “I was working on some designs, anyway.”

Then she rises back up, and reaches out to cup your face. Her thumb brushes over your cheek, and you lean into the touch. Then she pulls away, and you nearly whine in protest, before she extends the same hand to you. “Come. Let me care of you tonight.”

You take her hand without hesitation, your fingers slotting perfectly in between hers. You let her lead you to your shared cabin, near the back of the train cart. The door slides open with a small hiss, and the scent of warm, freshly brewed coffee fills your lungs. It’s a comforting, distinctly Himeko scent that you feel some of the tension in your shoulders bleed out.

Her fingers work deftly as they undo the buttons of your clothes, and she frowns when she notices the rip in your jacket.

“I got a little sloppy,” you explain weakly, with a tired grin. Himeko rolls her eyes, but folds it neatly and sets it on the edge of the bed, no doubt to be repaired by the next day.

“As long as you’re unharmed,” she murmurs, working on your shirt now. Your hands rest on her hips as she divests you of the rest of your clothes, until you’re in nothing but your underwear. “The bath is ready. I’ll be there soon.”

You nod, and drag your exhausted limbs to the bath. You strip fully, and then sink into the warm, bubbly water, audibly groaning as the heat from the bath seeps into your aching muscles. The small cuts along your hands sting a little, but you know Himeko must’ve mixed in some antiseptic to ensure no infections take root.

Himeko walks in a little later, and takes a seat on the edge of the tub, smiling as she takes in your relaxed appearance. She brushes some hair out of your eyes, then reaches over for the shampoo and conditioner, tucked away in another small, secure compartment. The Express is littered with them, so things can be stored safely and not make a mess of the train during jumps.

You feel like dissolving when Himeko starts to wash your hair, expert fingers massaging your scalp wonderfully. Her hands--hands that fix, hands that mend--travel from the base of your neck up to the back of your skull, then along your temples, before repeating over again. It's incredible, the way she can put you back together so easily. She chuckles when she notes your reaction.

“Enjoying yourself, my dear?”

You can only manage a wordless grunt in response, feeling like you’re in an entirely different plane of existence right now. Time blurs as Himeko washes out the shampoo and works in the conditioner, before washing that out too and leaving your hair thoroughly clean and smelling like fresh roses—the same scent as hers.

You almost don’t want to leave the warmth of the tub, but Himeko coaxes you out anyway. She offers you a towel and a bathrobe, and leaves you to dry yourself off for a while. You wring out your hair, then dress yourself in a comfy pair of silk nightclothes. When you step out of the washroom, Himeko is waiting for you on the bed, her legs already tucked beneath the covers. On her lap is her laptop as she types away, no doubt finishing up on her many engineering designs.

You practically dive into bed, snuggling under the sheets and pressing close to your lover. She’s warm as always, thanks to her Pathstrider ability being of the Fire type. Himeko hums to herself, wrapping one arm around your shoulders as you bury yourself in her side, uncaring for the dampness of your hair. She reaches over to the bedside table, and with a click, switches of the main room lights, leaving only the soft glow of the lamp next to the bed.

You chance a glance up at her, even as drowsiness nips at your heels. The gentle golden glow of the lamp makes her look divine, enhanced by the fiery red of her hair. There is an affection in her eyes you know is reserved only for you as she leans down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Rest, now,” she says, her words a caress against your skin. “You deserve it, my love.”

“I love you,” you mumble, eyes slipping shut as sleep finally claims you. It’s easy to oblige the request, safe and sound in her arms like this. These moments make you wish that dawn—or the Express’s approximation of a circadian rhythm—would never come, and you could linger in the embrace of your beloved for eternity. The last thing you hear before you drift off is Himeko’s soothing voice, almost lullaby-like, and you can hear her smile.

“I love you too, dearest one.”

KAFKA

For the nth time that night, you wake up to the sight of your bedroom ceiling.

You sigh and twist in your bed, turning to check the time on the alarm clock on your bedside table. It’s 1am in the morning, and you still can’t sleep.

You don’t really know the root of your recent bouts of insomnia. Maybe it was the workload? But Himeko has given you several days off already. Maybe it was the stress of having to manage the younger Astral Express members, but Welt shoulders that burden most of the time. Could it be Pom Pom then? You shake your head at that—the conductor was usually the one stressing, not being the cause of stress.

Then maybe… maybe it’s because you miss her.

Kafka, your secret lover.

You miss the presence of her next to you in your bed, and the steady, powerful beat of her heart under your ear as you rest your head on her chest. Miss the elegant cadence of her breathing and the feel of her hand in yours.

You sigh again. You know she’d laugh if she ever knew about your silly longing. I mean, you volunteered for this infiltration mission; you knew what you were signing up for. But still, it’s funny—you miss that about her too. Her laugh.

You reach for your phone, resting on the bed. During your last… rendezvous with Kafka she had the foresight—or maybe Elio did, who knows—to give you an encrypted number to contact her with.

Only in case of emergencies, doll, she had crooned, as she tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. Use it wisely.

Your finger hovers over the number. Does this even qualify as an emergency? It’s just a few sleepless nights. Kafka probably has more important things to do, executing Elio’s endless number of scripts and whatnot. In the end, you shut off your phone and throw your head back on the pillows, ready to resign yourself to another long night—

—when your phone suddenly buzzes with urgency.

You jerk in surprise, brows furrowing as you pick it back up. Who could be calling at this hour? You squint in the darkness as you read the caller ID, and your heart leaps into your throat.

It’s the emergency number.

You fumble to answer, quickly sitting up and pressing the phone to your ear, making sure to cover your mouth and the reciever. The rest of the Express definitely wouldn’t be able to hear you, but you always feel some sort of lingering paranoia, sneaking around like this with Kafka.

“Hello?”

“Hey, doll,” a familiar, smooth voice says, and your heart flutters. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“Kafka,” you breathe out, not bothering to hide the relief in your tone. Kafka chuckles on the other end.

“That’s me,” she hums. “You answered pretty quickly. Were you not sleeping?”

You hesitate for a moment, but decide to come clean. “No. I… haven’t been sleeping well, recently.”

Kafka is silent for a few seconds. “I see,” she says, and something in her voice shifts, imperceptible to the average person. But you aren’t an average person, not to Kafka. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you reassure her. “Just a little insomnia. Nothing to worry about." The other end goes quiet, so you decide to change the topic. "Why'd you call? Isn't this for emergencies only? Are you in trouble?"

"You worried?" she chuckles, and you can see her smirk in your mind's eye. "I'm alright, doll. And as for emergencies... well, I missed you. Isn't that an emergency?"

It's such a Kafka-esque answer, but it pulls a breathless little laugh from you all the same. "Ugh, you..."

"Me," she affirms on the other end with a snicker. There is small, comfortable silence between you, before she speaks again. "Listen, doll, I've gotta go. But don't worry your pretty little head--you'll sleep perfectly well tonight. I'll make sure of it."

You blink, confused at her words. But before you can question it, Kafka hangs up the call, leaving you both confused and a little disappointed. Usually she'd say goodbye and throw in those three special words, though not this time, apparently. You wonder what she means as you shut your phone off again, and lie back onto your pillows. You close your eyes, and try to do as she says.

You're not sure how much time passes, but it doesn't work, predictably. You groan in frustration, just about ready to get up when a lithe hand slips over your mouth.

You jerk in surprise, one hand flying reflexively to the knife you keep beneath your pillow, the other gripping your assailant's wrist. You swing the knife in an arc, only for it to be caught and restrained by thin, pink, familiar ropes. They glow ever so slightly, illuminating a familiar face, that has your mouth falling open under the hand.

"Good to see your reflexes haven't dulled," Kafka teases, nimbly prying the knife out of your hands and letting it clatter onto the floor. She then removes the hand over your mouth, and releases your wrist from the strings.

"Kafka," you whisper, your hand moving to cup her cheek, your thumb tracing the ridges of her face, "are you real?"

She leans into your touch, that signature smirk tugging on her painted lips. She's really here, solid and tangible beneath your fingers. "You could consider me a dream, if you'd like."

"How did you even get in here?" you ask, not taking your eyes off her for a moment as she shrugs off her coat and begins undoing the buttons of her shirt. Kafka offers you a smug grin at that, pulling a little device from her pocket.

"Custom-made IPC teleportation beacon," she answers with a wink. "Jailbroken courtesy of Silver Wolf, of course."

You make a mental note to buy Silver Wolf the next battlepass in that game of hers. Kafka sets the device on the bedside table, now dressed in only her undergarments. You swallow as you take in the expanse of her milky skin, firm abdomen and muscled thighs, all while Kafka raids the clothing storage beneath your bed for something to sleep in like she's been on the Express this whole while. She eventually settles for one of your old t-shirts, which drapes over her frame in such a sinfully delectable way that you'd pounce on her if you weren't so damn tired.

"Move over," she orders, pulling her hair out of its usual ponytail, and letting it cascade down her shoulders and back. Kafka has always been beautiful--but like this... you would not have been able to distinguish her from Idrila the Beauty themself. You wonder if that makes you her knight. You shuffle to the side of the bed, and Kafka slips under the sheets next to you. Strong arms wrap around you and hold you close, close enough that you can rest your ear against her chest, and hear the soothing lullaby of her heartbeat. Immediately you start to feel drowsy, and Kafka chuckles.

"You really missed me, didn't you, doll?" she muses, carding her fingers through your hair gently. "I'm here now, my dear. Sleep, alright?"

Your eyes flutter shut almost instantly. It's funny, how she doesn't even have to use her Spirit Whisper on you to get you to obey. Maybe love itself is enough of a whisper to your soul, or maybe you've always been weak for her. But oddly enough, you don't find yourself minding all that much if that's the case. You don't mind much of anything when it comes to her. Though you don't ponder for very long as you snuggle closer against her warmth, your arms winding tight around her waist. She'll be gone by morning, you know that. She has to. But for now, this is enough, secure in this haven that is her embrace, and you let yourself drift off into slumber.

(The next morning, nothing remains of her--you may have truly considered her a dream, were it not for the imprint of her form on your bed, and a tiny note on your bedside table, undoubtedly written in her hand.

All it says is i love you.

And for the both of you, that's all it needs to say.)

[yi3248]

was looking through your ghostroach art and just thought of a confession scene where ghost is trying to be romantic by saying something like, “Even if I was six feet under again, if it were you I was buried with, I’d be closer to Heaven than ever.”

and roach is like “What do you mean “again”?! And with someone???” and his mind is so focused on That that he completely misses the fact that ghost is trying to confess to him 😭😭 just a whole mess

(after that ghost just mentions its time for lunch and starts walking to the mess while roach is still trying to figure out his words)

ANON PLEASE REVEAL YOURSELF YOU HAVE THE BIGGEST BRAIN

u have no idea how much this kept me up at night imagining ghost either mustering up his courage, trying to confess casually (but still wanting his sincere feelings to come across), or he simply blurted it out while they were heading out for a mission

ghost's confession have me in shambles and i hope you have a great day

[tsuutarr]

Hi my friend! May I please request headcanons of Kiawe x Unovian!gn!reader who has a team consisting of a servine and "cute" pokemon? Like eevee, Minccino, skitty etc? Thank you!!

(it's been so long since I've done a Pokémon ask!! very exciting <3)

If you're from Unova, Alola would be a pretty big change of scenery for you. The bustling cityscape is replaced by beautiful beaches, so of course you want to explore!

I imagine you run into Kiawe somewhere on Akala Island, maybe on his family's farm or Wela Volcano Park. Either way, he'd notice that you're not from Alola. This would lead to you guys conversing for a bit, with Kiawe being intrigued about your experiences in Unova.

He'd offer to take you around Akala Island, which you agree to! He introduces you to a bunch of Akala Island staples and tells you a bit about Alola, like its myths.

It's really nice talking with Kiawe because he's a pretty chill guy despite how passionate he is. Plus, he's cute! And it's pretty obvious that he thinks you're cute too. He initially found you interesting since you're not from Alola, but talking to you in depth also makes him appreciate you as a person.

Eventually, your conversations flow to Pokémon. You guys talk about your teams, with Kiawe mentioning his preference for fire-type Pokémon that can dance. You mention how your team is filled with Pokémon that you find cute.

Kiawe is really interested in seeing your cute Pokémon! Contrary to what some people may think, Kiawe really likes cute Pokémon, especially Pokémon that seem warm and fluffy.

He'd find mincinno really cute and think that it's a really useful Pokémon to have since it's so good at cleaning! Skitty and its slightly air-headed tendencies would make Kiawe smile fondly. But he'd love your eevee the most! Since eevee can evolve into a fire-type Pokémon, I would imagine that Kiawe would be interested in having one himself. If you two end up spending more time together/dating, Kiawe would definitely get his own eevee and evolve it into a flareon.

If you date him, he'd dote on your Pokémon often, giving them lots of treats! He's not used to grass types like servine, but he'd consult Mallow so he can treat servine the best he can.

Once you guys move in together, Kiawe would (1) be a bit of a blanket hog (before throwing the blankets off of both of you and onto the floor) and (2) would loooove cuddling with your Pokémon in bed. Skitty has a spot between the two of you where it can curl up. Servine would be at the foot of the bed. Your eevees would be curled up near your heads. Mincinno would sleep elsewhere because I imagine it to be a bit of a diva that likes its personal space.

Regardless, Kiawe would adore your Pokémon a lot and would be really sweet to them! Very husband material <:

[inkykeiji]

sukuna defo has a corruption/innocence kink!!!

he just really loves ruining pretty things. he loves smashing them beyond ‘repair’, smearing them with him and soiling them beyond recognition. he loves staining them with his teeth and his claws and his palms, leaving behind everlasting claims of ownership—things that can’t be scratched or scrubbed off, things that won’t heal, don’t heal, permanently mangled by his fingers or his fangs. 

because bruises are pleasing, yes—splashes of blood pooling beneath thin skin in the primitive shapes of his fingerprints or his hands; and scabs are gorgeous, sure—glittering little rubies that encrust your skin, more beautiful than any piece of jewellery; but they’re all much too temporary. he needs things that are forever. he needs scars, raised and puckered and dimpled; he needs his teeth eternally etched into your inner thighs—thirty-two little indents, four deep gouges from the fangs. he needs his claws carved into your chest—a crude heart engraved into your left breast, his name singed across your neck, a permeant collar burnt into your flesh by red-hot talons. 

any pretty, delicate thing will do, but the innocents are his favourite. the innocents are his favourite, because they’re so pliable, they’re so pure, they’re so desperate to please. it makes them easy—easy to mold into whatever he wants them to be, easy to morph them into something that is his and his alone; his to create, his to destroy, his to resurrect. 

his. 

the innocents are naive and trusting, the innocents are willing; willing to submit, willing to comply, eager to be taught, to be good, to obey and earn their place. 

it’s an art, almost, he thinks, the utter corruption—destruction—of innocents. he likes the challenge, because each person is different; each person requires something else to shatter them to the prettiest shards of themselves in his palms. it’s like a reverse puzzle to him; instead of painstakingly putting something together, he is painstakingly deciphering how best to pull it apart.

and, oh, he’ll put you back together, of course, but he’ll put you back together his way. he’ll put you back together in a way only he knows how to, he’ll put you back together in a way no one else ever could. he’ll put you back together in a way that forces you to need him, dousing you in himself so when he does finally piece you back into a whole, it’s with him as the glue, ensuring that it is he who holds you intact, it is he who is irrevocably a part of you, forever, embedded deep in your soul.

[archangeldyke-all]

sevika in relathionship so pretty so fluff

an maybe hard sex.... and if your comfortable chasekink you know

ty for the requests!! i hope u enjoy :)

men and minors dni

first! fluffy sev relationship hcs!

i think she'd be guarded at first

she's completely obsessed with u, and it would freak her out.

so at first, she'd keep you at a distance, scared of how soft you make her feel.

she'd limit you guys to one or two dates a week. (even though she wants to spend every waking moment with you.)

she wouldn't spend the night, wouldn't invite you to her place. (she's scared she might have a heart attack if she sees you comfortable and domestic in her own home.)

but after a while, she realizes you aren't going anywhere. she doesn't have to keep you away, because you want to be with her just as much as she wants to be with you.

once she works this out (like 2/3 months in) it's a complete flip.

like overnight, sevika goes from being a bit distant and closed off to a complete romantic sap.

she's always touching you, whether it's hanging off you as you do chores around the house, or sliding a hand in your back pocket while shopping together.

she spends almost every night with you. moves you into her apartment as soon as you let her.

she's always doing thoughtful little favors for you, without you even having to ask.

like she overhears a conversation you're having with a friend and you mention how you're craving food from a specific restaurant.so she goes out to get take out from that place for dinner that night.

if you're in the shower, she'll throw your towels in the dryer for you so they're toasty warm when you get out.

she's always buying you things, or building you things, or bringing home cool things to show you. (totally the type of gf to give you cool rocks.)

as far as sevika chasing u/ hard sex, here's a little something i cooked up for u... (ft. amab sevika... or she's just strapped with the breeding strap 24/7... it's up to u)

singed, silco, and sevika are constantly experimenting with different variations of shimmer for various desired effects. most of the time, it's singed and silco watching rats react to drops of the drug. but when they're satisfied with their trials and ready to test it on a larger subject, they'll call in sevika for help.

so one day, as sevika's leaving for work, she tells you that she'll be working late, to not worry if you don't see her for a while. you pout and ask her what'll be keeping her, she tells you her and 'the boys' were testing out some new variants. she kisses your pout away and promises to take you out for dinner over the weekend.

"should be interesting." she says, pulling her cloak over her head. "singed says the rats were goin' fuckin' crazy." you gulp.

"just be careful, sev." you plea, straightening her cloak out for her and tucking her hair behind her ears. she rolls her eyes. "don't roll your eyes. i want you back in one piece."

she leans into kiss you one final time. "don't worry baby. i'll see you tomorrow."

you wake up the next morning alone and cold. you curse your girlfriend for abandoning you, but go about your day without much concern.

when you get home that afternoon and sevika's still not back. you start to worry. when night falls and she's still not home, you throw on your coat and shoes and march down to the last drop.

you start getting more and more freaked the closer you get to the last drop. it's a friday night, and the usual crowd that would be lining the street to get in is nowhere to be seen. the neon eye isn't lit, and when you get to the front door, there's no lights on inside.

you try the handle.

nothing.

you knock.

nothing.

you're about five seconds away from breaking the glass when you hear the sound of the back door swinging open. sprinting around the building, you find silco and all his employees flooding out into the alley. all except sevika. silco freezes at the sight of you.

somewhere behind him, singed mumbles. "good, she's here."

terror seizes you.

"what did you do to her?" you demand.

"now, don't work yourself up into a tizzy, dear--" silco is cut off by a loud crash coming from inside the bar.

"there goes the barricade." ran mumbles. a few goons start to scatter, backing away from the bar then breaking out into sprints when more crashing begins. silco puts a hand on your shoulder, and singed begins to ramble behind him, nervously.

"sevika had an... unexpected reaction to the shimmer." silco slowly starts walking you backwards as singed continues to talk. glass shatters behind you. "it seems we may have accidentally triggered her, ahem..."

"her more primal instincts--" silco cuts in

"--yes! her primal instincts-- a little too intensely..."

"what does that mean?" you ask. silco laughs nervously.

"it's easier for you to just see for yourself." he says, guiding you through the doorway and into the back of the last drop. you snap around when you hear sevika's pained groan echo throughout the empty bar.

"where is she?" you demand. silco doesn't answer. you turn around to face him, but he's gone, and the back door is slamming in your face. "hey!" you say, pushing on the door. "what the fuck?" the door doesn't budge, and you can make out the shape of a dumpster being pushed in front of the exit through the frosted glass.

you blink in shock. what the fuck was happening?

you were quickly distracted by another whimper echoing through the halls. you took off into the bar, searching for sevika. "sev?" you call out. "sevika?" you made your way onto the dance floor, eyes scouring the trashed bar for your girlfriend. "sevika!"

a gasp sounds from behind the bar. you run over. "go away!" sevika growls. you ignore her, rounding the bar and crouching beside her where she's laying on the ground in the fetal position.

"it's me, baby, i'm here. what happened?" you ask, quickly putting your hands on her back, trying to turn her over.

"you need to get the fuck out of here, right now." sevika spits out. her voice is deep and raspy, and her shirt is soaked in sweat, the skin beneath it on fire. she seems... bigger somehow. like the shimmer added another ten pounds of muscle on top of her already chiseled body.

"what's going on baby?" you ask, tears running down your cheeks, pressing a kiss to her head. "tell me how i can help."

in the blink of an eye, sevika's flipping over and slamming you onto the ground, her mechanical hand encircling your throat and squeezing, cutting off your oxygen in a flash. you gasp, clawing at her copper hand. above you, sevika snarls, her spit drips down onto your face, her eyes glowing purple.

"you need to get the fuck out of here before i tear. you. apart." she growls. her teeth seem sharper. you shudder beneath her, struggling against her hold.

suddenly, sevika throws her body off yours, writhing in pain. you scramble to your feet, gasping for air, backing away from her. as soon as you get breath back in your lungs, you dash for the double doors in the front of the bar. behind you, you hear sevika snarl.

you flick the bolt on the doors and push, but the door doesn't budge. you can hear a chain and padlock clanging against each other with every shove you give the door.

you're going to kill silco if sevika doesn't kill you first.

turning around, you see sevika standing behind the bar, eyeing you like prey. her nostrils are flared, her eyes are dead set on you, teeth bared like she's going to rip your throat out. you damn near piss yourself.

you take off for the stairs, cursing when you hear sevika's footsteps take off after you. scrambling upstairs, you duck into silco's office, grabbing a chair and throwing it at the windowed wall behind his desk. a panel shatters, just barely big enough for you to fit through, and just as you're about to leap down to the street fifteen feet below you, a heavy hand lands on your nape, pulling you off your feet then hurling you toward the ground.

you land with a grunt, and then sevika lands on top of you.

"sevika!" you say, punching at her chest, trying to push her off you. "let me go!"

"i told you to get out of here and you didn't fuckin' listen." she growls above you. in all your flailing, you manage to claw sevika across her face. three lines of blood bubble up across her cheek. sevika stares down at you in shock and you stare up at her in fear. then, she laughs.

"you're cute when you're scared, honey." she says. the violent glint in her eye shifts to something you recognize a little more, and then she's flipping you, pinning you to the ground with a hand on your head, tearing your pants off with the other.

"sevika!" you gasp, scandalized. she doesn't hear you, shredding the fabric covering your ass until it's free. she smacks it, laughing at the way you squirm. "what the fuck are you doing!?"

"tried to kill everyone else. shoulda known i wouldn't wanna kill you, sweetheart." she growls. you shiver beneath her. "silco's smart, sending you in here."

"what the fuck are you talking-- oh!" suddenly, your panties are torn off your hips. "sevika!" you gasp.

above you, sevika rearranges herself. she pushes at your hips until your ass is up in the air, and you whimper. you gasp when you feel the sole of her rubber boot press down against your head, taking her hand's place. you struggle against her, and she smacks your ass, pressing her foot down against your head harder.

with two hands on your hips, she starts grinding her clothed buldge against your cunt. you whimper.

"sev-sevika what--"

"you're soaked." she snarls. "fuck, you're such a whore. choked you out and you're creamin' your panties." her voice is a mixture of disgust and admiration. your shaking like a leaf beneath her. "'m gonna put a fuckin' baby in you now." she growls. you gasp.

her hand leaves your hip for half a second to shove her waistband down, and then all at once, she's gripping your hip again, spitting on your fluttering asshole, shoving her cock inside you to the hilt.

you gasp at the stinging stretch in your cunt, tears welling up in your eyes. sevika has no mercy, not giving you a moment to adjust before she starts pounding into you.

"i'd fuckin' live in this cunt if i could." she grunts as she smacks your ass. you whine. "feels so good."

"sev!" you screech. "slow down!"

she doesn't slow down, instead she spits in her hand and reaches around you to start rubbing your clit. "that better baby?" she asks. you gasp. "yeah, that's better." she answers for you, rutting her hips against your ass.

the tip of her dick is nudging your cervix, and pleasure quickly starts taking over the pain. she fills you so fucking well, like her cock was made for you, like your cunt was made for her. she grunts behind you. "yeah babe?" she asks. oh shit, you must've been talking out loud. you nod as best as you can beneath her boot.

"yeah." you moan.

"you want my cum?" she asks again. you shudder.

"yes!" you screech. she chuckles.

"you first. milk it outta me." she grunts. your eyes roll to the back of your head, your cunt clenching hard around her. she whimpers, her hold on you tightening. "cum on my cock baby." she grunts, smacking your ass. that's all it takes for you to fall apart beneath her.

your legs shake as you cum, and sevika growls, her foot lifting off your head and settling behind you to get better leverage as she fucks her cock as deep as it can go inside you. She gives her hips three more thrusts before she's groans, her hot cum filling you up, and dripping down your thighs.

the two of you collapse simultaneously. she's crushing you with her weight but it's a comforting crush, and you sigh happily. sevika kisses your head.

"you okay?" she asks.

"yeah." you say dreamily. she chuckles.

"'m sorry."

"not your fault." you mumble. "thanks for not killing me." she chuckles above you.

"hmm." she hums, nuzzling into the nape of your neck.

she's asleep in a moment, her breaths evening out and tickling your ear. with sevika laying on top of you, you don't have many other options beside falling asleep beneath her.

the next morning you're both woken up by silco standing in the doorway of his office with his back turned to you, clearing his throat. "i'll give you two privacy to... clean up and go home... i just wanted to make sure you survived the night." he says.

"silco!" you call before he can shuffle away. "you need to find a new human test subject." you say. he nods.

"yes, i agree. i'm already making arrangements to make that change." he says.

"good." you say. then, "and leave a few of those shimmer samples on the bar for us."

sevika muffles her laugh in your neck as the two of you watch silco's shoulders shoot up, his ears turning bright red.

[sinningtamer]

Calling “trapped inside a warden’s ribcage” vore is probably pushing it, but I have a permit to do whatever I want. (Bonus: the clip that inspired this)

vore day countdown: 3/8

[do not reblog to non-kink/fandom blogs]

[nostrildamus]

Hey there I love your wavs! Would you be up for trying to do some loud but feminine style sneezing? High pitched chops? That would be desperately hot.

Thanks in advance and thanks for reading 🩷

hi there lovely anon! Since you were so sweet I tried to do my best for u 🩷

My sneezes have never been particularly girly, but I tried my best here! (They are very loud though, that one wasn't hard for me lol. So heads up to headphone users, I don't want to shriek in your ears 😭)

[hinamie]

someone asked if i had ever drawn gojo with his scars, now i have :>

[seiwas]

hiii! for your ask game: issei + confrontation :) btw bc i saw your post im about to do some sketching to stretch my drawing muscles for the day so ty for the motivation! <3

hi nonie! thanks for joining my lil game 🥺 i'm glad it inspired you to draw as well!!! 🥹

help me get back into the writing groove! send me a character + any word and i'll write a short blurb about it!

contains: established relationship, matching halloween outfits, expletives, mention of tits and nipple, reader is a preschool teacher

issei + confrontation

“were you ever going to tell me?”

you stand in front of him, eyes wide with your phone thrusted to his face. matsukawa squints, sitting up higher on the couch. the unruly strands of his hair mush up into a tangled bird’s next atop his head.

your chest is hammering, heartbeat pounding at what you just uncovered; what you just saw. you check the photo again, zooming in for good measure. you can’t believe it.

yet, in front of you, sitting so relaxed is the same man standing next to you in the photo. he’s barely even leaning forward to get a better look.

“tell you what?” he tilts his head.

you groan, moving closer as you shove your phone to his face.

“look closer.”

and he does. but all he does is grin, a slight smirk as his lips curl cheekily.

“you see it?” you ask.

“yeah, what about it?”

you’re flabbergasted at this point. because right on your screen, is a picture of your little group’s halloween celebration, and—

“issei… my tits are hanging out. you can see my nipple!” you zoom in on the photo for emphasis.

he hums in agreement, unfazed and smug, “and?”

“oh my god,” you sigh in frustration, slapping his thigh, “this is posted on oikawa’s official instagram!”

he looks at the icon and pauses, then, “oh,” is all he says before he continues, smirking, “i thought it was part of your costume.”

you close your eyes, taking a deep breath in visible distress. and he has the audacity to chuckle (to chuckle!!) before pulling you in by the waist. he presses you against his chest as you slump on the couch, tucking you under his chin as he rests his palm on your back.

“it’s okay,” he reassures you, the vibrations of his voice rumbling against your cheek.

“i’m going to get fired.”

“nah,” he dismisses the thought, “they might not even see it.”

you press yourself up and give him a look, ��the kids’ parents are oikawa’s fans.”

he blinks then shrugs, “not many parents can say that their kids’ preschool teacher is friends with an olympian.”

you swat his chest and pout.

“serious.”

the photo still stares at you from your screen, a group picture of everyone in their costumes with oikawa dressed as flynn rider in the center. you and matsukawa stay on the far left, his arm wrapped around your waist as you dress in matching doctor and tooth fairy outfits

“at least you’re hot,” he adds.

“a hot tooth fairy?” you manage to snort a little.

“a hot titty fairy,” he grins.

[fishfingersandscarves]

pre-amnesia bhaalspawn norena <3 evil cleric who breaks your bones and heals you to break them again

[senditothemoonn]

uhm could you please PLEASE draw frapol please? (france x poland) that's okay if the answer's no

They are plotting something evil