#i feel like i should put a cw warning on some of these but idk what

[mixelation]

just realizing now that obito killing the guy that cave-trapped tori RIGHT after she 1) broke up with itachi and 2) started dating him is a… a real bad look. it was all already a bad look for him to date her but in this context it looks EVEN WORSE. from the outside. this recently traumatized teenager… is now dating the guy who killed the person who hurt her? lmao. it looks. so bad. obito it LOOKS SO BAD. it looks like you traded safety for sex/dating obito!! it looks obsessive and controlling as hell, obito!!! to you and tori its a cute romantic gesture and to everyone else its SO DEEPLY A BAD LOOK. OBITO

obito did not even CONSIDER how bad it would look. like surely everyone KNOWS tori just uses people like this. "manipulate someone else to do her dirty work" is just tori's MO. obviously this was entirely her own prerogative?

kushina, foaming at the mouth: SHE"S SIXTEEN

obito: oh right

obito, a troll who loves pissing people off: have you considered it's her own fault-- (MURDERED)

[goxjo]

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ. 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝 ﾟ･｡･ﾟft. gojo, choso, sukuna, toji

♡ warnings. no reader pronouns, fem anatomy! reader, technically hate fucking, reader is initially very pissed, he is too but he wants to make up, no curse au (choso + sukuna), everything is consensual. gojo cw: some reckless driving, semi-public sex, doggy, getting caught, exhibitionism. choso cw: reader is in a bunny lingerie costume, slight! pet play, suddenly popping a boner, v! fingering. sukuna cw: petty arguments, jealousy, v! fingering. toji cw: jealousy, implied size difference, kabedon!!!, cunnilingus, wall sex. 18+ only, MDNI

♡ a/n. idk if you can already tell by now - I usually make these whenever I have new banners / formats to try out. I really love that heart bubble thingy on the title lol + idk, arguments like these feel a little endearing sometimes. this was very fun to write. enjoy!

♡ links. GEN. MASTERLIST ┆ JJK MASTERLIST

[ ❤︎ ] GOJO SATORU

The car ride home tonight is silent for the most part. It’s your car, your hands on the steering wheel, and therefore your rules. Maybe you haven’t been looking at your speedometer but in case you haven’t noticed, your anger adds more pressure to your foot on the pedal, and you’re a few kilometers past the highway speed limit.

All this because of some petty argument and you barely even remember what it’s about. All you know is, it’s one that made you miss an exit, and it’s another 20 minutes before the next one.

“Baby, slow down.” He sighs with a tinge of worry and slight irritation in his voice. He’s not really keen on the idea of having to watch you flirt with an officer to get out of a speeding ticket. He’ll throw puppy dog eyes to the officer himself if he has to, but he’s putting a pin on that thought for now. There must be something that could remedy the situation (you) for now.

“Don’t talk to me,” you deadpan, lips pursing in your annoyance, eyes dead fixed on the road.

“Fine. Then, I won’t,” he hums, an idea suddenly popping up in his head. “I won’t talk to you. I’ll just…” He fiddles with the hems of your skirt, knuckles lightly stroking your plump and exposed skin.

“What the hell are you doing?” You shift in your seat, quickly taking a glance at your boyfriend.

“Not talking.” It starts with just his fingers, now it’s a full hand, and it’s squeezing and massaging your thigh, reaching higher and higher up till it’s a hair away from your clothed sex.

“That’s a dangerous game you’re playing, Satoru.” You gulp, and he doesn’t fail to notice your breath has shifted, taking deeper inhales and longer exhales the closer he gets to your panties.

And he knows it’s a dangerous game. But hey, at least you’re not in danger of getting a ticket anymore. He’s glad you’re distracted. One finger hooking on the waistband of your panties is enough to make your breath hitch. Watching you chew on your bottom lip puts a strain in his pants knowing you’re trying your hardest not to be the first to break. You’re so cute when you’re angry, focus never breaking when you reach the woodsy outskirts of your exit, and he wonders if you took the wrong turn.

“Why are we here—”

“You fucking idiot.” You’re fuming as you unbuckle your belt, making your way to the backseat.

“I fucking love you.”

….

He’s never seen you cum so fast before, never seen you more vocal, fingers raking into the leather of your back seat, not a care in the world how expensive it’s going to be to have it replaced. He should piss you off more if it means he’ll have you on all fours again in your car in the middle of the woods, begging and screaming for him to fuck you deeper and deeper a nearby town could mistake your cries for a mating call.

He finds a neat little discovery too when a light shines on your window, practically blinding you, and your insides coil around his cock he’s almost sure he was locked in knots. You’re so fucking hot when you’re embarrassed, unable to help the moans that escape your lips even when a cop knocks on your window.

[ ❤︎ ] KAMO CHOSO

“I already told you I’m sorry!”

You won’t budge, half-sulking-half pissed with your back turned to him on the bed, sitting on your folded legs. You refuse to talk to him too so he settles with hugging you from behind, bunny tail pressing against his crotch. You feel his fingers fidgeting against your stomach, clearly remorseful for what he did. Your boyfriend is the last person on earth who could forget about special dates, let alone an anniversary — or so you thought.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please forgive me.” And you want to forgive him. But you had already spent the last few weeks finding the best anniversary costume present, only to be met with questioning heart eyes at the bunny ears and frilly lingerie, wondering what’s the occasion.

“It’s fine, forget it. Just leave me alone.” You try to wriggle out of his hold, only grinding against him kn the process.

“Won’t let go till I know you’ll allow me to make up for it.”

“Stop, it’s done okay — wait, are you…” At first, you thought it was your puffy tail pressing on your ass but you realize that’s definitely not the case when the thing behind you tripled in size.

“Yeah.” He buries his face deeper in your hair, taking in the sweet smell of you despite your little tantrum. His thumb tries to graze your underboob, fiddling with the frilly wires, popping in and out of the garment, obviously trying to restrain himself. “Sorry, you’re just… so soft.”

“Bunny, I know you’re mad and you can tell me all about it.” His hand reaches for your clothed pussy, fingernails scratching your slit behind the fabric. He finally puts the garment aside, spreading your wet, puffy folds with his pointer and ring fingers before sliding his middle into your slippery hole. “Go on, I’m listening.”

[ ❤︎ ] RYOUMEN SUKUNA

“Don’t ignore me, you.”

“He’s my childhood friend! Just a friend, okay?! Why can’t you understand that?”

“He could be the dog of your sister-in-law’s neighbor, I don’t give a fuck. I don’t want you fucking talking to that guy anymore.”

“It doesn’t mean anything!”

“So? I don’t like how he looks at you — hey, don’t leave! Don’t get mad — c’mon!” He catches up with you when your pace quickens as you bolt through the door. Tattooed arms coming from behind you lock tightly around your waist, his face burrowing into your neck.

“Let me go!”

“Fuck no.” He’s still as a rock the first few seconds as you try to wriggle out of his hold. When you realize it’s futile, he begins to pepper kisses on your exposed shoulder, trailing kisses along your neck up to your temple, as if he’a getting off that easy.

“Ryo, stop!”

“Uh-uh.” He runs his nose across your ear before leaving breathy kisses on your lobe. He’s a fucking menace for knowing exactly what makes you weak in the knees and using that against you.

“If you think that’s going to work, I-I — ohh, fuck.” Your head cranes backwards, leaning on his hard chest when his hand slides down your pants. Heat rises to your cheeks in embarrassment when you realize he found you wet despite all this. Or maybe it’s because of this?

“I don’t know? Seems to be working.” Because it fucking is. And you hate that it is. But his hand — black fingernails grazing your clit sloppy, wetting it with your juices — it feels so hot against your pussy at this stupid moment. His free hand reaches for your tit underneath your shirt around the same time as when he started pumping digits into your hole.

You’re not getting out of this alive.

“You still gonna talk to him?”

“Who?”

[ ❤︎ ] FUSHIGURO TOJI

“I fuckin’ swear, I don’t know how that girl got my number.”

“Don’t care. Go away, Toji.” Standing and towering in front of you, he tries to block you in every which direction. He doesn’t budge. Sneaking past him isn’t an option either as those freakishly long arms could easily prevent you from going anywhere.

You didn’t mean to read his messages. But when an unknown number pops out of your boyfriend’s notifications with kissy emojis followed by a steamy shot of her backside, you can’t help but be… curious.

You’re not sure what to think. On the one hand, you know Toji would never cheat on you or lie to you about these things. On the other hand, you also just found out this isn’t the first time this girl has sent him anything — nor the first time anyone’s sent him anything in the whole duration of your relationship.

“Believe me. I ignore every single one of these text messages, I don’t know how they keep finding me!”

“Yeah, well you could’ve told me.” Toji sighs realizing only now that he should’ve. He didn’t think it mattered or that you would be this bothered when you found out. Clearly, he was wrong.

You take his pause as your cue to walk past him, but a big hand slams to the wall next to you, preventing you from walking any further. His hand slides higher as he leans closer to the wall, forcing you to back up and hide in his shadow.

His lips are a breath away, eyes staring at yours through his lashes. His free hand cups your chin, gently forcing you to listen to him carefully. “I never told you because I didn’t care about any of them.”

His hand reaches for the skirt of your dress, balling the fabric into his fist as he raises the fabric till your thighs are exposed. “Why would I care about any of them when I have you,” he slides his hand into your panties, stroking stripes along your wet slit, “and this pussy.”

You all but melt into his touch, pussy squirming underneath his hold. Toji slowly kneels to the floor, taking your panties with him before throwing them aside. He pushes your knees aside, staring right at you as his hot breath fans your exposed cunt. “This pussy. Always so fucking ready for me.”

His wet muscle parts your folds, licking heavenly stripes on your throbbing clit. You lean on the wall for dear life, one hand above your head, the other on your partner’s head, shoving him closer to your pussy as you ride his mouth.

“I’m changing my number, I promise.”

♡ reblogs & comments are appreciated ♡

[joosthead]

touch tank || j.k. f!reader

WARNING #1: explicit real person fiction ahead, dni if below 18. dni if anti-rpf

WARNING #2: explicit rpf/real person fiction content ahead. read at your own risk. dni if anti rpf, dni or read ahead if you simply don’t like rpf lol

₊˚⊹⋆ prompt(s): 16S) the classic “oh, let me help you put some sunscreen on” but then the little massage turns into something more

part 2 of just too soft for all of it — this is a standalone fic but both of these are set in the same universe if you want some more : )

₊˚⊹⋆ reader: f!reader, gets referred to as joost’s girlfriend. notfamous!reader. if you are a person who does not tan/burns—pretend that you can tan easily for this fic😭 exploration into joost and normal!reader’s dynamic. little bit opposite aesthetic reader

₊˚⊹⋆ word count: 7.7k

₊˚⊹⋆ cw: smut (oily massage, f!receiving oral+eating from back, unprotected piv, outdoors [but still private] sex, creampie), perfect world w perfect temperatures and pools, quite sappy lol didn’t know i could top jtsfaoi but here we are, google translate dutch. note: ice lolly/popsicle in mind. yes this is important. idk if they have these in nl but they do now < 3

WARNING #3: rpf ahead—don't like it, don't read it. do not repost this on any other platform, screenshots or text alike. do not click ahead if you don’t want to read rpf. do not interact if you are below 18. how to block tags/words on tumblr.

₊˚⊹⋆ track(s) of the fic: “touch tank” by quinnie, “love is strange” by mickey & sylvia, “pink in the night” by mitski

₊˚⊹⋆ junote: i really wanted to combine this with prompt 14 but i couldn't make it work : ( i do have requests for that that i’ll fulfill so stay tuned teehee !! sorry this took so long, i am a perfectionist and absolutely adore this prompt so—here you guys go !! enjoy : 3

₊˚⊹⋆translation: "Kun je me hier voelen, diep in je?" - "Can you feel me here, deep in you?"

18+ only — explicit rpf content ahead, minors dni, anti rpf dni. 4th and final warning!

Because your life is so perfect, the day after your meltdown and subsequent putting back together (courtesy of Joost), your area gets hit with the worst heatwave of the summer. 

You guess that this is some cruel tactic of the universe to make its stars align for you in any way it can. The unbearable beams of sunlight beaming down upon you the moment you exit Joost and your shared home into the backyard. “Are you sure we should have a day outside?” you call back behind you, putting on your sunglasses. “Shouldn’t we just chill inside and watch something?” 

Joost comes up behind you, arm snaking around your waist, lips planted on your cheek in a second. “Some sunlight will be very good for you, you’re always holed up in the office or library,” he mumbles into your shoulder, covered by the baby-blue cotton fabric of one of his button ups. “You can bear it.”

You shake your head, but keep walking forward down the steps anyways, sandals slapping against the small wood deck. “I think the heat might kill me.” 

“It won’t—I won't let it!” Joost exclaims proudly, letting you go and going ahead of you. Even without seeing his face, you know how big of a smile he’s got on his lips. 

The pool sloshes on its own, the aqua blue water spilling over the sides and darkening the gray pavement next to it. On one of your loungers, Joost sets down the tote bag he prepared of towels, sunscreen, the change of clothes you’ll wear when you go back inside. You woke up to it this morning, along with a butcher paper wrapped breakfast sandwich and a glass of water. A text accompanied it—he would be out back, taking the cover off the pool and setting everything up. 

Usually, you're the one setting everything up, preferring to have it your own specific way, but—you chose peace last night, going straight to bed after taking that bath together  After these few years together, Joost may not be as Type A as you, but he can certainly hold his own now around the household. 

Your backyard is a quaint sight: the fence lined with various flower bushes, clean cut grass all around. A tree stands in the corner, roots surrounded by a ring of decorative rocks and pink carnations—there isn’t much either of you have done to upkeep any of it, but somehow, they bloom year after year. Your loungers are baby blue, covered in the towels that Joost has set out, the tote bag spilling over on the left one. 

It's almost like you’ve taken an outing to the beach and you're not in the little old house you’ve lived in for the past few years. Any day with Joost is that extravagant, he makes it that way. Already, you can relax, your shoulders lowering as you sit down on the edge of your lounger and watch as Joost squats, running his fingers along the surface of the water in silence. 

Low on his hips, Joost’s swim trunks are black and needlessly designer, just the way he likes them. He’s shirtless, the expanse of his back to you—his own name is tattooed on his right shoulder in some sans-serif script he must’ve liked before he ever met you, and in this sunlight, you wish in secret to see your own next to it.  

“You’re staring, lieverd,” Joost remarks over his shoulder, giving the water one final splash as he stands up and you smile. 

“How could I not?”

“I’m just too beautiful, aren’t I?” He comes over to you, standing in front of you and shielding you from the sun. “You ready to get in the pool?” 

Behind your sunglasses, you squint up at him and nod. “Put on some music and I’ll go.”

Goofy as always, he salutes to you and marches away like some Supreme swim trunk clad soldier. As he sets up the speaker on the far side of the pool, you unbutton your shirt, get ready to slip off your flip flops, but in your pocket, your phone vibrates. 

You check it—it’s an email from your supervisor, asking you to look over a few files for her. Regardless of your big day out taking up your time…it’s a Saturday. And yet you still find yourself about to respond, about to start typing when Joost places his big hand over your phone screen, saying, “We can look at that later, yeah?” Your grip on the phone loosens; he’s right, you can look at that later. There’s still a part of you that wants to reply, scared of what the consequences will be if you don’t, but—“Today will be great.” Taking your face in his hands, he presses a kiss to your forehead. “Come, now.” 

You stand up and he slips off your button up for you, dropping it on the deck chair. You adjust the strings of your bikini; white and blue and flowery, patterned like a delicate porcelain vase, so pretty on you and Joost tells you such.

Turning to him, you hold your hands out to the side, showing yourself off. Joost’s hand comes up to your collarbone to fidget with the matching necklaces you both have that you wear now—pearl pendants in dainty silver cages attached to short chains and these green and tarnished (“well-loved,” Joost calls them) old halves of a “BEST FRIENDS FOREVER” heart-shaped necklace from a Claire’s you both visited on a trip to America. He wears them both today, too, chains intertwined and tangled as always. 

“Do you realize how pretty you are? Zo mooi mijn liefste,” Joost says, taking your hand and twirling you around for a better look—he wolf whistles, and it makes you laugh, cheeks warming with his eyes on you. 

“With how much you tell me, I think I’m starting to realize it.” 

“Very glad,” he says, pulling you in for a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll tell you more then.” 

Grinning, you pull away and make for the pool steps, but not before Joost taps you on the ass; you act scandalized, dropping your mouth open, narrowing your eyes at him, but it’s lighthearted, and just makes you want to finish what you started last night. “Smokeshow!” he whisper yells through his cupped hands around his mouth as you walk forward and to the side of the pool—it’s still morning, and your neighbours are weird about noise. This is his version of being considerate of that. Too bad for them that you moved Joost Klein into your once quiet home. 

Dipping a toe into the water, you immediately suck in a breath through your teeth at how cold it is. Even with the tarp and the sun shining down upon it for hours, the water still nips at your skin, something in your brain perceiving it to be freezing and impossible to step into. “Ew,” you mutter, and Joost snickers from behind you. 

“Baby can’t handle it?” he teases. 

“Not true,” you mumble, going down the second step, ankle deep, and immediately scrambling out of the water. “Jesus Christ, what the fuck?” 

“You’re surprised that water is supposed to be cool?” 

“It’s not supposed to be that cool.” 

“Come here.” You turn around, walk right up to him. Even without shoes, you still have to look up at Joost, and he smiles right down at you—you know that’s going to happen. “C’mon. Jump, schatje,” he says, tapping the backs of your thighs, so you do—he can carry you with ease, all the times he’s brought you upstairs this way, all the drunken piggybacks he’s given you. You wrap your arms around his neck, wrap your legs around him tightly, while he has his hands under your ass. “Good, baby.” 

He takes the opportunity to press a kiss to your neck, then starts forward down the pool steps, slowly so you can adjust. “Agh!” you yelp softly as he moves further into the pool, the cold water coming up around your body, engulfing you. The temperature is a shock to your system, though the way it cools your hot skin is so, so welcome. It isn’t as cold like this. 

“Is it okay?” 

“I’m okay,” you say, though you hug him closer to get any sort of warmth on you. 

“Are you sure?” he laughs, and you nod, still clinging onto him like a little bear. “You’re so cute. I think I deserve a kiss for that.” 

“One for carrying me,” you say, kissing him on his soft lips. “Another for setting all of this up.” You kiss him again, and Joost deepens it, somehow squeezing your body even tighter to his, tongue teasing at your mouth as he squeezes your ass, as you rest your hands on his chest.  “Have we ever done it in a pool?” you ask once you pull away. 

“Never.” Joost gives you one last peck, one last kiss on the jaw as he smiles at you. “Do you think today is the day?”

“Maybe. We’ll see.” 

—

After around an hour of wading around—you’ve both decided that today is not the day to do it in a pool. It’s too hot, even with the cold water you’re situated in. Not even your house or the tree in the corner of the yard provides good shade for the water as the day gets later, the sun beating down on your shoulders; it would turn into a burn if you were that unlucky, but you, however, are not. 

In the morning when you first stepped out, the pool was still shaded and you and Joost could do whatever you wanted: breath holding contests, Joost trying (and failing) to do a handstand underwater, racing each other across and back several times like this was some backyard Olympics. After a bit, you floated on your backs together, laughing about what the water feels like in your ears, laughing about how terrible he is at floating. Finally, you felt all of the worries from the past month melt away and into the water as you gazed up at the blue sky above you. 

You heard it before it came—Joost swiping the surface of the water, making a large splash that drenched your face as you floated. You exclaimed, “You dick!” and freed yourself from your float to splash him back in the face hard, then he feigned the hurt and sorrow that fills one’s heart after chlorine fills their waterlines, rubbing at his eyes—you weren’t not going to come over and dote on him, but then he splashed you back as you looked over his red eyes, and it made you splash him back even more. 

Noise be damned, you were both laughing and shrieking and splashing for around an hour—in the midst of your splash war, you noticed how pink Joost’s shoulders were, the beginnings of a nasty sunburn afoot with the afternoon sun shining down on both of you. You shooed him out of the pool and into the refuge of the umbrella covering your lounge chairs, and started to rummage in the bag before he sprung up from his seat. 

“Wait, wait, wait! Before I forget—” Joost exclaims, running back up the stairs and into your house. A minute or two passes, and he comes back with his hands behind his back, closing the sliding door shut with his foot. In front of him, he holds out a twin popsicle—two sticks encapsulated by sweet red syrup and already melting in its package. “Ijslolly!” He presents it to you as he comes down the stairs, then bows to you deeply and dramatically, which makes you laugh. “Here you go, m’lady,” he says, then tips his imaginary fedora to you because. Because of course he would—anyone else, it would make you cringe, but it’s Joost. Perfectly goofy, perfectly sweet, perfectly Joost. 

You laugh as he opens the wrapper and splits the popsicle in two—one for him, one for you. “Thank you, kind sir,” you giggle, playing along. “Where’d you even get this?” you ask, taking your half and licking at the melting syrup already dripping onto your hand. 

“I went to the store while you were sleeping,” Joost says proudly, biting into the popsicle. “It’s strawberry, do you like?” 

Walking forward, you nod and get up on your tiptoes to give him a kiss. “I love.” 

He beams at you, sits down, chomps at his popsicle while you eat yours; he puts his hat and sunglasses back on and you do the same, and you sit together as the music plays for you. 

A new Charli xcx song, Joost and Käärijä’s recent collaboration, an incredibly sexual recent Ski Aggu release that you make a note of texting him “???” about later. 

Before you know it, you’re left with a red-stained stick, a red-stained mouth, a satisfied sweet tooth. “Okay, Joosty. Sunscreen time.” He gives you an exaggerated grumble but sits down at the edge of the lounger nonetheless, and you stand between his legs, taking the sunscreen from behind him and uncapping it. “You need it more than I do.” 

“Shush,” he says, but lets you take out two fingers worth of sunscreen, lets you take off his sunglasses and spread the sunscreen on his cheeks, rubbing it in. You can’t resist him and his pretty face, dusted pink cheeks, ocean blue eyes looking up at you through long blonde eyelashes. 

You’re so distracted by his face that you don’t pay attention to where you’re going—“Oops,” you giggle. “I got sunscreen on your mustache.”

“Oops,” he repeats. “I don’t mind.”

Hands on the backs of your thighs, Joost pulls you close by them and presses a kiss to your stomach, then hugs you tight around your waist. Automatically, your hands come up to play with his hair, combing your fingers through the strands. “All of your sunscreen is going on my stomach, Joost.” 

“Don’t care. You think if I lay out in the sun for long enough, it’ll bleach my hair more?” 

You snicker, “The heat will singe you to pieces before it can even bleach your hair.”

Sighing, he presses another kiss to your stomach. “You’re lucky. You get to tan today.”

“I ran out of my oil in Cuba, Joosty, I can’t.” A couple’s vacation with Appie and Alanis in Havana, feels like so long ago even though it’s only been two months. Fruity cocktails on the beach (and in your hotel room, and at the bar, and in the club, and…), running down hallways, fussing over Joost’s sunburned cheeks, Joost ogling you sunbathing but unable to do anything out of respect for your friends right next to you. You should have picked up another tub, but you weren’t exactly expecting to be tanning back in Amsterdam anyways. 

“You can't, or you won't? Look in the bag,” Joost mumbles into your tummy. You lean over behind him and reach into the tote—most of the other things have already spilled out and onto the lounger behind him: your sunglasses, two droom groot caps, the wrapper of your popsicle, a cheap film camera, and…a brand new tub of coconut oil. Your favourite brand. He must’ve picked it up on his trip to the store this morning, and you laugh, “You're so sweet.” 

“Mm-mm,” Joost hums. “That’s you, lieverd. You should lie down, I’ll put the oil so you can tan your back.”

Cocking an eyebrow at him, you snort, “Feels like you have something up your sleeve, Klein.”

He grins a toothy smile up at you—“Maybe I do.”

Joost gets up and moves all of the things to the other lounger, allowing you to lie on it on your stomach. You wiggle around a little on it, settling into the soft cushion, your back already stretching with your position. 

“I will be a great masseuse, schatje, don’t you worry. “ Careful not to put too much weight on you, Joost straddles the backs of your thighs. 

“Should I be worried?”

“No.”

“I feel like I should be worried.”

“Don’t be.” From behind you, he gets up, and you turn around to see what he’s doing—he gets your/his button up from the other chair and slips it on. “No more burning today for me.” 

You nod as he settles back on you, and you hear the sound of your little coconut oil tub being opened, the safety seal being ripped off, the clicking of his tongue at it ripping off unevenly. The air is a comfortable blanket of warmth upon you now, your worries melting away with it as you wait for Joost. 

“Can you untie the string around my back?” you ask before you forget. 

A few beats of silence pass until Joost finally says—“What?” 

“Is there a problem?”

“Why untie?” 

Joost’s voice has deepened an octave—almost grave, the tone of his voice is, because all of the possibilities in his mind floating around. Just your bare back and its expanse in front of him.

“I don’t want a tan line,” you explain. “Untie it and I won’t get one.” 

“Okay,” he affirms, though sounding uneasy as he undoes the tight strings of your halter top, the strings around your torso. He swipes them out of his way, and you assume the pause in his movement is to dip his fingers in the coconut oil and warm it up for you. 

Your assumption is right. In a minute or so, Joost’s big hands smooth across your back, firm yet gentle—he knows exactly how to handle you. The oil provides a lovely glide for his palms against your skin, and it smells so great; the pressure he’s applying is perfect on you, and you let out a little mewl of pleasure. The knots in your back are melting away with every swipe of his hands across it and you have to ask—“Where’d you learn to give such a great massage, Joost?”

“A magician never reveals his secrets.” 

Even if you tried, you couldn’t deduce how he learned to do this; maybe you’re just super tired from the last month (very likely) or he was a masseuse in his past life, but you’re already less tense with his hands on you. He digs his thumbs into the small of your back and rubs circles into it as you sigh in contentment at how it feels.

“I like this song,” Joost mumbles as it changes to this one you found years ago, some song about baby blue shirts, how pretty he looks going down on you.

“Mhm,” you hum.

“Seems very appropriate for the situation, right?” Eyes closed, you smile with his fingertips hovering just above your skin, a pause now in his treatment for you. “Can I…you know…” with his finger, Joost writes a small J, one, two, three times, on your back and sliding with the oil waiting for your response. 

“Massage me for a little more, I’ll think about it.”

“Fine,” he breathes, then gets back to work. 

Joost smoothes his hands over your back muscles; first over the top, over your trapezius, then up to your shoulders. He pinches a little around the shoulders, gliding over the smooth skin there. Hands sticky with oil, the solid melts with the sun-warmed dip of your spine, the valley of your back before him. The dip is perfect to smell, perfect to kiss; perfect to put a light hand on in public and a harsher grip on in private. With every movement of his hands, it smells more like coconut, smells less like you, and Joost has to resist the urge to bend down and nose at it to get your scent back. Every movement is accompanied by a little—a little breath. A little happy sigh from you, and it makes him go insane with every press of his hands against you. 

You’re much more refined than he is, more able to keep it together; if Joost was in your position, he knows he’d be a mess under you, quick and fast and easy. You’re his favourite person—the wave of your hand could bring him to his knees. Taking care of you comes so easily to him, even if he’s so commonly doted upon by other people. This feeling—no wonder you like taking care of him as much as you do. 

Today is so happy, a day that’ll get him through weeks and shows to come without you, long days on the tour bus wishing you could be by his side. Joost got through yesterday, his flight, the ride home using the prospect of you, seeing you, to get by. Then he got home, and seeing you was all he could look forward to after being away for what felt like forever, and he finally did, and he was so overjoyed and then—then you were crying, and he felt so sad that all he could do was hold you. He wants badly to understand why. 

“Can I ask…can I ask why you cried yesterday, lieverd?” Joost adds in a soft voice, still running his hands firmly over your sore muscles, “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it right now, I understand. But I’d like to know sometime, so we can help you feel better.”

You’ve known since the moment you started crying that you’d have to talk about it sometime. Sharing everything with each other is the way your relationship is, how it always has been—you thought about it in the bath with him, his chest against your back, deep and tired voice reverberating with it. How to word it as he played the first track on the new album, so crazy experimental and unlike anything you’ve ever heard from him before. Thought about it in the pool, thinking about it now. 

“I just…I’m probably the most mundane part of your life. There’s this little voice in my head, maybe it’s what I think people are saying about me—‘You’re telling me Joost Klein couldn’t find someone more interesting?’” You think back to an offhand Tweet you saw come up on your timeline, 10 angry quote tweets already defending you, no likes, but it still sticks to the back of your mind like some aggravating super glue: “‘His girlfriend doesn’t even do music or anything special and she still can't show up for him.’ I don’t travel like you do, I’m not always making music or doing things. And still, I couldn’t be there for you. 

I watch you at your shows and you’re this…enigma, you’re amazing. I want to be as good as you, I wanna show you off like you show me off. But there’s always something in the way. My schedule, or university, or work.” It’s truly difficult now not to feel like you overshared, dumped something on him that maybe you weren’t prepared to dump on him—a cloud shadows the sun, just at the right moment, and the parts of your skin not already touched by the umbrella’s shade are cooled momentarily. “Or maybe I’m just not trying hard enough for you.”

“I’m not flashy,” you say softly, settling on your forearms. “My way of being flashy is the way I love you, and I don’t know if I’ll ever think it compares to how you do it. I feel bad, that’s all. Like I could be doing more for you in every way.” Whatever it is, whether or not you were prepared to say it—it’s out now. “‘Cause you deserve it, you always do.” Blindly, you reach behind you and hold your hand out for him to hold, and he does, squeezing it tightly. Your cheeks warm, and it’s certainly not because of the temperature outside anymore. “I’m sorry I killed the vibe.” 

From behind you, you hear a sniffle, and you raise your head and look back, alarmed. Joost wipes a tear away with his other hand, laughs a sniffly laugh as you laugh, “Joooost. You’re gonna make me cry.”

“No, no, no vibe killing in this house.” You crane your head back again, pursing your lips, and he leans forward so he can kiss you, then peppers kisses until your shoulder, mumbling, “I should be comforting you, lieverd.”

“It’s okay,” you say softly. “Don’t really need to be comforted, just need to get it through my head that it’s not like that. I’m just sad that you’re sad.” 

Joost rubs your back, though it seems like he needs that more than you do if you’re judging by his sniffles and wavery voice alone. “I never knew you felt that way.”

He wraps his arms around your torso, hugging you close and continues, “If it’s any consolation, which I hope it is—you could never be careless. You set out my favourite sleep clothes for when I got back, favourite snacks, plushies on the bed, a place in the dresser for new stuff.” You have to admit—you were pretty proud of that last idea when you came up with it. “You’re thoughtful, and you’re kind, and I’m so lucky to have you. I love you, I love you. I love you.” 

With every “I love you” is a kiss upon your skin that you can’t see, but feel wholeheartedly anyways. “My muse, my saviour,” he says, and you have to laugh a little. “I mean it, you know I mean it.” And you do, you know it—how could you not when it comes from Joost? “You’re the most extraordinary part of my life, schat. Every show, your presence is there with me, even if you feel you aren’t.” 

“Not true,” you say, voice teasing. “That would be impossible, wouldn’t it?” 

You can feel the roll in his eyes from here, even though you can’t see it. “Yeah, yeah. But you know what I mean, right? Best friends forever, that’s what our necklaces say. Always there for each other. You’re always there with me.”

He kisses your shoulder. The oil is strange on his lips, but he doesn’t mind—it’s you. “Nothing compares to you, everything we have together…I hope you know how I feel now.” Pausing, Joost rests his forehead on the back of your head, breathes you in. “I’m obsessed with you, I think,” he whispers into the nape of your neck, then kisses it, and you laugh with the tickle of his lips, his facial hair against your sunwarmed skin. 

“You are? I didn’t know,” you tease, perking your ass up against Joost on top of you because—somewhere in your conversation, he’s gotten hard, and it’s poking against your thigh now, making you bite your lip. Stroking each other’s egos has gotten you both excited, it seems.  “What’s up with that, hm?” 

“You should know. I’m telling you right now, I’m obsessed with you. And this?” Joost grinds his crotch against you just lightly, kissing the side of your neck as he lowers his voice, “This, I like talking about you too much. You can’t blame me for it, you’re gorgeous.” 

“I don’t think I know how obsessed with me you are yet. Tell me more?” 

“Do I have to tell you, schat?” he says, gentle and low, fingering the delicate ties on your sides and the sensitive skin of your hips under them. His fingers drag down the column of your spine, tease at the edge of your bikini. “I don’t think I have to tell you, right? That I love you, need you?” 

“You don’t? Have to tell me?” 

“I’ll show you.” 

You imagine what he looks like behind you—burnt shoulders, rosy cheeks, dark sunglasses, chlorine dried blonde hair all messy and the tips dripping with water still upon the billowy cotton of his button up. Those blue eyes, blown out at the sight of you underneath him, wandering every lovely curve of your body. Slowly, he unravels the ties that hold both sides of your bottoms together, the nylon springing back against your skin, and you fight the urge to smile in anticipation of Joost all over you soon. 

“You don’t want any tan lines down here?” he asks, fingers already underneath the damp fabric of your swimsuit bottoms. You shake your head no. “Ok, then no tan lines.” 

Joost slips the fabric off of your skin; the dampness makes it cling to you still, though it’s easy enough to take off completely. You hike your leg up for easier access, turn your head so you can get a good look at him. In a sort of headband, his sunglasses are perched atop his head; the button up wrinkled and a bit stained with oil; rightfully, his eyes are half-lidded with want, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his trunks.

“What do you want to do?” Teasing him, you run a finger down his bulge and he smiles at you. Truly, you haven’t a single idea about what Joost wants to do with you next, and it looks like he doesn’t either—until his eyes light up, and you figure that tugging gently at his trunks for him can help expedite the process.

“Can I try something?” 

“Go right ahead.” 

You lie in wait as Joost lowers his shorts, erection springing out and his hand coming to wrap around it and give it a few pumps—you reach behind, running a finger down the slit, and he sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth as he strokes himself, then settles his cock on the soft cleft of your ass and glides it against, between it. 

You laugh, “You’re such a dog, Joost,” but as he ruts gently against you—the little moans he’s doing in your ear, already rambling about how good you feel and he’s not even inside yet, one hand gripping your hip and keeping his cock in place and the other on the back of the lounger so he can keep his balance; this is your personal paradise. 

“Fuck,” Joost whispers, biting his lip. You love a show, and he’s ever the showman—but you’re outside, he’s outside, he’s very aware of your cranky old neighbours, and he loves you and your house. One day, you’ll share the lease together, so he tries and stays quiet for the sake of that dream, so you both won’t get kicked out for verbal indecency today. 

“I know how much you like it, Joost,” you purr from under him, voice muffled by your arms. “You can tell me.” 

From Joost’s point of view, you look like a line in his song, the notes in the margin crafting and tailoring the work to his perfect vision; you look like the fully realized final draft of something he’s been working on for months, trying to find the sound of for years. 

If he could write something about this moment, it would probably result in entire sagas, but for now—keeping you like this close to his chest is a gift only he has. 

“I can’t be eloquent like this,” he laughs, and you have to agree; whatever goes on in that head, he short circuits before he can say it in this state of pleasure. 

Joost pauses his small thrusts, catches his breath. “Go on,” you encourage, but he breathes a quiet, “No. If I go any more, I’ll cum early and that would be so lame, schat.” 

“Not lame. I would personally love to see it.” 

“Mm-mm. We are not doing that today,” he laughs, and the sound makes your heart warm. 

“Put it in,” you say softly, trying to convince him to keep going—it’s so cute how far gone he is already, how hard he’s trying for you. 

“No, no, no. Let me taste you first.”

You cannot argue with that. 

In an instant, you abandon your bikini top, abandon the bottoms too in a crumpled mess on the ground laying on your sandals and his flip flops. “Hands and knees, lieverd,” Joost says, and you follow his direction, settling so you’re on your elbows and your ass is hiked in the air. 

A few moments pass as Joost sits behind you, and you have to ask—“What are you waiting for?”

“Just enjoying the view,” he says, then gives a kiss to your ass cheek, making you giggle. “So impatient today, schat. Is it because I was gone for so long?” Joost moves your knees so they’re spread even wider, giving him more access to you. “How much did you miss me?” A kiss to the back of your thigh, right near your center, your stomach caving in with the deep breath you take in anticipation. 

“I missed you a lot,” you whisper, looking back at him focusing his dilated eyes on your pussy, and your cheeks grow hot at the sight. “Missed you more than you know.”

“Did you?” He licks a tentative stripe up your slit, up even higher over your hole—so sensitive, your knees could shake with only the tip of his tongue teasing you. “Show me, let me hear it, lieverd.” 

“Joost,” you scold, though your arching back reveals your true feelings about what he’s doing.

“Sorry, can’t resist.” He presses a kiss atop it before coming back to your pussy.

So exposed, so vulnerable, so open, Joost’s fingers parting your folds. He spreads them gently so you’re even more open to him and licks in between, drinking from you. The smacking of his lips against you—it’s filthy. You’re so cognizant of the sound; is it unmistakable from outside, Joost’s tongue flicking against your clit, his fingers rubbing circles on where he can’t reach? You hope the sounds of the city outside your flat cover the mewls that spill out of you as he lays his tongue flat against it and laps up your wetness. 

“I think we should get you more tan in the front, too, right, schatje?” Joost says, breathless, and you flip over, laying on your back for him. Before he can get back to business, you cup his chin, pinching it gently between your fingers. His lips are covered in your wetness, glistening with it in the sunlight. You pull him to you, bringing his lips to yours, the salty taste of yourself on your tastebuds, on your chin as well now. 

This all makes you realize—you weren’t wrong at all for missing him so terribly. 

When you pull away, Joost pauses, gazing at your face, brushing your hair out of your eyes. On top of you, lying partly on you, he cups your cheek, silver chain resting on your chest, the pearl pendants and the halves of one heart of the matching necklaces you own together right next to each other. 

“Zo mooi,” he says quietly as he lowers down, kissing your chest right next to your pendants, kissing down between the valley of your breasts, maneuvering so he can graze your nipple with his teeth, flatten his tongue over it. His hand comes up to cup your other breast as he sucks at the bud, then sucks at the skin next to it; that will leave a mark tomorrow, a sweet reminder of your time together. 

Finally, he’s satisfied with his work on you and starts down your body, kissing your stomach, your hips. Before you can even process it, he folds you in half, hands on the backs of your knees; licks one long stripe through your folds, then attaches his lips around your clit, sucking it, forcing a loud and choked moan out of your mouth as he alternates between licking hard at your bud with the tip of his tongue and sucking.

Joost is a fiend for it, devilish look in his eyes, smile on his mouth even when it’s pressed up so close against you—his fingers tease at your dripping wet hole, then his middle fingers are inside you, and then he’s there to the knuckle and petting at your g-spot incessantly. 

Joost knows you inside and out; can already tell that your pretty hands resting on the back of his head and holding him there will result in your fingers tangled in his hair and tugging lightly; knows that a few more seconds of his curling fingers and his tongue on you will make you try and push against his hand still holding you open with your thigh, you’ll fail to do so, and be happier for it. 

You’re too lost in your pleasure to look at him like he wants you to. No matter—you’re a beautiful sight coming undone for him, eyes closed, chest heaving with your breaths, a slight sheen to your skin. “Joost,” you sob quietly as he continues pumping his fingers in and out of you, continuing to lap at your pussy like he’s trying to quench an unquenchable thirst. 

“Mhm? Do you like it, schat?” Joost says against you, the vibrations of his deep voice making you twitch. You nod, and there it is—he pauses to smile when he realizes you're holding his head in its place, burying his face in your center. Who is he not to give you what you want? He drinks you in, and it makes you moan louder. “Keep quiet,” he mumbles. “We wouldn’t want the neighbours to hear, now would we?” 

You’ve come back to reality enough to nod, quiet down a little, but after a few more seconds of him sucking your clit, pistoning his fingers in and out of you, you cum, saying his name over and over again, then whispering it once you realize that yes—you’re still outside. Joost presses one last sloppy kiss against your overstimulated bud, and you nudge his face away with your fingertips, laughing breathlessly. 

Joost laughs too as he settles his cheek on the inside of your thigh, peppering soft kisses to it as he gazes at you; the look in his eyes is so tender, you almost want to look away, but you don’t. You’d take a picture if it wasn’t so glaringly obvious what you were doing before. You cup his other cheek, and he nuzzles further into your thigh, eyes closed. 

For a few moments, you stay like this, catching your breaths, basking in the afterglow of your orgasm together. After a little, Joost wipes his mouth and his cheeks with the back of his hand. “Owie,” Joost winces, reaching back to rub over the spot on his head where you pulled on his hair. “You really enjoyed that, schatje,” he smiles, climbing up over you. 

“I'm sorry,” you say softly, putting your hand over his as he lies down on you, head on your chest. “I shouldn’t have tugged so hard.” 

“It’s okay, it was worth it.” You pet his hair—Joost is so warm, the air is so hot around you, but you’ve never felt better. “I’m so hard it hurts, schat,” he mumbles, and you laugh as he shifts around on top of you, erection through his shorts poking your thigh. 

“Let’s fix that?” 

“I thought you’d never ask.” 

With quickness, Joost is up and off of you, straightened on his knees and parting yours, but you sit up. Hooking your fingers on the waistband of his trunks, you pull them down slightly, pulling him in to kiss you as you pull them lower, letting his cock spring out as you kiss sloppily, strawberry stained tongues meeting. You wrap your hand around his thick shaft, run your thumb over his weeping pink tip to spread around the precum, which makes him groan into your mouth, makes your teeth knock together. 

You stroke him a few times, Joost’s hand resting at the base of your neck. It’s like time slows down when you pull away from him and watch him and his furrowed blonde brows, the way his lips are dropped open, the pink blush of his skin creeping down his neck to his chest with all of this exertion. 

Joost opens his eyes, catching you gazing at him intently, and he brings his forehead to yours as you keep jerking him, and holds your face in his hands. “Catch me if I fall?” he asks, and you laugh. 

“So dramatic.”

“You don't even know, dude.” A few more kiss-filled seconds pass until Joost finally calls it—“Enough, baby, I need to be inside of you now, please.” 

Nodding, you lie back, opening your legs for him. He sits back, stroking himself. “No crying today, hm, schat?” Joost says as he takes his place between your legs. “No crying unless it’s out of pleasure, of course. Or if you want to cry out of sadness, that’s okay, too.” 

“I’ll take note of that, thanks,” you smile as Joost lines up with your entrance, lying over you. You slip your hands underneath his shirt, fingers running over Rayquaza, his skin piping hot on yours. The pool still sloshes, the sun is much higher, he's inching his cock inside of you and saying something in Dutch that sounds like whatever is equivalent to “fucking Christ,” his face screwed up in pleasure. 

“So warm,” Joost practically whimpers, and you both know that he certainly didn’t mean to say that in such a whiny tone. “So warm,” you laugh, making an exaggerated moan to tease him as he covers his face with his hands and laughs with you. 

“Shut uppp.” Another inch inside you, so deep. “I wish you could feel how it feels, it’d change your life.” Every vein and ridge on his cock, you can feel as you envelop him fully. “You changed mine,“ he says, and it makes your heart soar. “Over/under, 3 minutes, schat?” 

“Under. Over/under 30 seconds?” 

“Under. Maybe. Jesus fuck, you feel so good,” he laughs, breathless. “So tight, you’re amazing.” Joost goes silent as he fully bottoms out in you, but a few moments pass, and he states like he’s been thinking of it the entire time, “Lowkey, I wish we had one of those squeeze bottles,” he makes a disturbingly good squeeze bottle sound with his mouth, “Pfft-pfft. We could be oiled up super quick if we did. Maybe for next time I give you a massage.” 

You give him a puzzled, amused look—you know him like the back of your hand, but where his mind wanders sometimes, you aren’t sure. “I just don’t know,” you laugh. “Maybe we can workshop that idea.” Joost grinds himself against your clit, and you moan into his mouth as he comes down and kisses you. 

Joost fucks you like you both have all the time in the day to be here—as far as either of you are concerned, you do. Long, languid thrusts that you both watch as his cock disappears inside of you, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your clit. The wet, hollow slaps of his hips against your ass are filthy music to your ears; you pant into each other’s mouths, close enough to touch, but not wanting to for the sake of watching each other, eyes open. 

You snake your arms around his neck, bringing him closer as his thrusts become shallower, quicker, erratic, punching into your g-spot. Without warning, Joost straightens up, exiting you fully, then lifts your hips up to meet him where he is, his shaft rubbing against your clit. 

“Ik hou van je, lieverd."

“Ik hou van je, Joost, I love you so much.” 

Joost’s face lights up then melts once he hears you speak Dutch—it’s so cute, like a little surprise for him even though you try to speak it with him regularly. Since it’s easier for you to express yourself in English, he'd rather you just speak Dutch at work and school like you already do, but the excitement in his expression when you do speak it is priceless. 

He sinks inside you once more, a loud shared moan between you two; this angle allows him to be deeper inside you than before. You tighten around him, and he sighs in pleasure. Joost splays his fingers out on your belly. “Kun je me hier voelen, diep in je?” 

“Ja, je voelt je zo goed, schat,” you breathe. Your praises seem to incense him to thrust into you firmly, out, in, out, in, sloppy, though you can’t blame him. Still, the head of his cock hits your spot with every seat of himself in you. He smoothes his tattooed hand over your chest, your erratic heartbeat probably felt through to his palm; he moves up to put his thumb in your mouth, and eagerly, you suck as he fucks you. Anything to quiet yourself, anything to have more of him inside of you. “I’m close, Joost,” you say once he moves his hand to your shoulder for leverage. 

Nodding, he says, “Me too,” keeping the pace, smearing more of your wetness over your clit so his fingers slide over it better as he rubs it for you.  

A few more reckless thrusts, your arms flying up around his neck for support, lips catching each other’s, swallowing each other’s moans. That familiar tugging feeling in your stomach grows and grows until you can’t ignore it anymore, your core tightening, your pussy tightening around him as you gasp out his name over and over again with your climax, and he gasps out yours. He’s not finished yet, but his hips have lost the rhythm they once had, his control over his impending orgasm with how you’ve constricted around him. 

“Schat, hold on for me a little.” 

“I should be telling you that,” you say, though you understand—the overstimulation of his cock dragging against your insides is getting to be a lot. You hug him close, your lips right next to his ear, his panting breaths right in yours as he ruts into you. “Cum inside me, Joost,” you whisper, and with one last deep thrust inside of you, he cums with a groan, with a breathy moan of your name, clutching your body tightly in his hands as he shoots inside of you, cock pulsing; so warm, being filled up like this, no space between you two, his stuttering hips fucking back into you for a few final thrusts.

In each other’s arms you lie there, panting—sweaty skin on sweaty skin, music still playing from the speaker, him softening inside of you. Joost kisses you deeply, kisses your cheeks, your chin, and you smile. “You are everything I’ve ever wanted and more, schat,” he says into the side of your neck. “Don't forget that.” 

thank you so much for reading! likes, comments, reblogs always so so appreciated <3 : ) - juno

[k0yaz]

hello! can I request headcanons of how Arlecchino would be as a parent with wife reader? like they have their own child that isn’t being trained to join the Fatui and Arle just gets to love and raise the child with reader (preferably the child being a daughter but it’s up to you <3 )

parent arlecchino hcs

Pairings: arlecchino x fem!reader

CW: sfw, female reader, established marriage, CHILDREN MUAHAHAHSHSH, um idk what else to put, pure fluff, her wife/reader being absolutely concerned for this woman, but it’s ok bc it’s cute and she loves her, eating the nearest route on the highway, ok that’s enough “content warnings” I hope.

A/N: wait this is so cute omg I love the idea of arlecchino having her own child that’s not part of the fatui 🕯️

Oh my god bro Arlecchino would be so ridiculously sweet and gentle with her daughter it’s actually insane.

She cares about the members of the House of the Hearth obviously, so the affection she shows her own child with you is immeasurable.

Arlecchino would be way more protective over her, considering that this child of hers isn’t trained to kill or go on missions, and just meant to live a normal life. She really wants to protect her child’s innocence and peaceful lifestyle no matter what.

While you two took care of your daughter, Arle would definitely do the thing where she picks her up and spins her in the air.

She enjoys it, but her resting bitch face makes it hard to tell-

Lowkey I feel like she would hilariously have her daughter held in one arm while answering the door to Lyney, and tell him to go on another mission while shielding the child in her encircled arm.

And Lyney would just stare wondering if that’s really the fourth Fatui harbinger, who’s currently hugging a child protectively.

She finds it oddly comfortable to come home to her wife and daughter at home, having both you and your kid in her arms as the three of you would spend time like a normal family.

Although she may not show it, Arlecchino gets kind of emotional over this. She wasn’t accustomed to coming home to just pure peace and tranquility rather than never ending business and violence. It was nice.

Subtly, if you have to go out for something, or if either of you have a responsibility to share, she ALWAYS and I mean ALWAYS, tries to make some sort of excuse to stay home with your daughter.

She never outright says it, but she always has a convinient ploy of reasons as to why she should stay home that day.

Most of the time, she uses the excuse that she wants you to have a break from the kid.

“Hey Arle can you-“ “No worries, I’ll take care of her today so that you’ll have some weight taken off your shoulders.”

You see right through her, but who cares it’s adorable.

When your daughter gets a bit older, Arlecchino initially lies to her whenever she goes out on missions. At first, she’d vaguely state that it was just “business that she needed to take care of,” and then come home covered in blood.

She definitely lied saying it was ketchup once.

Of course she isn’t able to hide it forever, but your child understands since that is her father after all.

Omg off topic but this woman would definitely let y’all’s daughter step on her back cause she thinks it’s funny, Arle won’t be fazed even a bit cause obviously this woman has some ridiculous muscle.

Arlecchino would even let her do her lipstick sometimes, no matter how sloppy it turns out.

Once she removed it and redid her lipstick before going out, and your daughter wasn’t happy at all 😭

So from then on she always kept it on even if she looks like a clown.

She’d have to stare daggers at her fatui children laughing at the oh so intimidating woman who was feared going out with lipstick smeared up her cheek.

This is so cute I love domestic parent arle ‼️

A/N: OMG BRO AT FIRST I DIDNT HAVE ANY IDEAS FOR TJIS BUT I ENDED UP EVAPORATING MIDWAY AND GOT A TON SO I FINISHED WITH IT BEINT FAIRLY LONG hope u like it <333

[libingan]

—escapism.

cw: cheating, age gaps, ooc simon because this was kind of rushed sorry babes, erm ig emotional neglect ??? idk how to tag warnings JSJDWJSJW

a/n: not my best work, but like, im having writer’s block rn so i just wrote the first thing that came to mind because i feel like i need to post something for yall HAAHAHAHAHA

as always, part two depends on how much this fic eats

you could feel the tension crackling in the air as you and your boyfriend faced off in your cramped living room. the argument had started small—another forgotten dinner, a dismissive comment—but it quickly escalated into a full-blown fight. his words were sharp, and his eyes, once warm, were cold and distant.

“you never fucking listen!” you yelled, your voice raw with frustration. “i’ve been trying to get you to notice me for months, but you’re always too busy with your own shit!”

he scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. “i’m tired of your whining. what do you want me to do, huh? i work hard and all you do is complain!”

“i want you to care!” you snapped back, feeling the sting of betrayal. “i want you to actually touch me, to know what i need, not just what you think you know!”

he threw his hands up in exasperation, his face hardening. “fine! if you’re so unhappy, maybe you should just leave!”

his words cut deeper than any physical blow could have. you felt a surge of anger and hurt. “maybe i fucking will!” you shouted, grabbing your coat and storming out, the door slamming behind you with a deafening bang. the sound echoed in the empty hallway as you rushed to your own place.

in the dimly lit sanctuary of your apartment, you stared at yourself in the mirror, your reflection a mixture of rage and sadness. determined to reclaim some control over your life, you pulled out your most daring outfit—something that made you feel powerful and fierce. the tight, low-cut dress hugged your curves, and the bold makeup accentuated your defiance.

you headed to a bar, a place where anonymity and distraction offered some solace. the bar was loud and crowded, but you walked in with a purposeful stride. you ordered a strong drink and let the warmth of the alcohol begin to soothe your frayed nerves. it wasn’t long before you felt the eyes of others on you, their gazes filled with various levels of interest.

that’s when you noticed him—the man staring right at you. he was seated alone at the far end of the bar, his rugged features partially obscured by a black surgical mask. despite the mask, there was something compelling about him. he seemed a lot older, but his presence was commanding and intriguing. his gaze was intense, even if you couldn’t see his expressions clearly.

you found yourself drawn to him, not just by his looks but by the way he seemed to command the space around him. you hesitated for a moment, then made your way over, the alcohol giving you just enough courage.

the man looked up from his drink as you approached, his gaze piercing yet inviting. “evening,” he greeted, his voice a gravelly whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. "rough night?"

you signal the bartender to bring you another shot before turning to the man, an exhausted expression plastered onto your face. "you have no idea."

the bartender arrived with your drink, setting it down in front of you. before he could leave, the man next to you gestured to him with a firm yet polite command. "put the lady's drink on my tab," he said, his voice carrying a hint of mystery. a slight smile played on his lips as he glanced at you, his eyes intense and unreadable. the bartender nodded and moved on, leaving you feeling a mix of surprise and curiosity about this intriguing stranger.

"simon riley," he introduced himself with a nod. you offered your name in return, extending your hand for a handshake. he gladly took it, lifting his mask just enough to expose his lips before planting a gentle kiss on the back of your hand.

"i have a boyfriend," you stated. simon chuckled in response, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "not a very good one if you're out here, no?"

you hesitated for a moment, but simon's easy confidence made it hard to stay reserved. as the conversation flowed, you found yourself laughing and sharing stories, your initial wariness melting away. there was an undeniable chemistry between you, a connection that felt natural and effortless.

simon had a way of making you feel seen and heard, his attention unwavering as he listened to you speak. he shared glimpses of his own life, his stories filled with adventure and depth. with each passing moment, you felt more alive, the weight of your earlier frustrations lifting.

you couldn't remember the last time you felt this way with your boyfriend. the spark, the excitement, the genuine interest—it had all been missing for so long. being with simon reminded you of what it felt like to be truly connected with someone, to feel that electric thrill of mutual attraction.

as the evening wore on and the alcohol worked its magic, you found yourself relaxing. after a few more drinks, the liquid courage made you more open. simon’s patient listening and calming presence encouraged you to open up.

as the night deepened and the bar's ambiance grew more intimate, you found yourself opening up to simon in a way you hadn't with anyone in a long time.

"my boyfriend... he's been so emotionally distant lately," you admitted, swirling your drink as you gathered your thoughts. "he's not as loving as he used to be. it's like he's more focused on his own world, and i'm just an afterthought."

simon listened intently, his eyes never leaving yours. "that sounds tough," he said softly. "you deserve to feel loved and appreciated."

you nodded, grateful for his understanding. "it's been hard. sometimes, it feels like i'm invisible to him. we haven't been intimate in what feels like forever. i almost feel like a virgin again because it's been so long since we last had sex."

simon raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity and concern in his gaze. "that must be really frustrating."

"it is," you sighed. "and the last time we did... he couldn't even find the clit. it was awkward and disappointing. it made me feel like he doesn't really care about my needs."

simon’s eyes remained locked on you, his presence steady and unyielding. “that sounds incredibly frustrating. it’s like he’s stopped making an effort to connect with you.”

“exactly!” you exclaimed, frustration spilling out. “it’s like he’s not even trying. i feel invisible, and he doesn’t even care. it’s like i’m just a roommate or something.”

simon’s voice was low and soothing. “you deserve more than that. it’s clear you’re looking for someone who actually cares and pays attention to what you need.”

simon leaned in closer, his presence radiating warmth and intensity. his hand, firm yet gentle, rested on your thigh, sending a shiver up your spine. “you know,” he said softly, his voice carrying a seductive edge, “i’d like to get to know you better. i can’t stand seeing you so unhappy.”

his fingers traced a light, deliberate path on your skin, the touch both comforting and thrilling. “why don’t you come home with me tonight? we can talk more, and I’d love to help you thryou hesitated, feeling a mix of curiosity and caution. “i don’t know, simon. you’re clearly older than me, and we’ve just met. it feels a bit... risky.”

simon’s gaze remained steady, his hand still gently resting on your thigh. “how old are you?” he asked, his voice calm and composed.

“i’m 27,” you replied.

“27,” simon repeated, his tone neutral. “you’re pushing thirty, not some freshly eighteen little girl. you’re a grown woman who can make her own decisions.” he paused briefly. “could show you a good time, love, make you feel things your little boy toy can't. i'm only 42, you know. is that too old for you?"

you thought to yourself that yes, it might be too old, but right now? with the hurt and desperation for someone who would actually treat you right? you found yourself saying, “no, it’s not too old. yes, I’d like that.”

that's how you ended up in simon's apartment bedroom, naked and lost in the throes of pleasure.

simon's got you on your back, legs hooked over his shoulders, his head buried in between your thighs, mouth working overtime against your dripping cunt. he keeps his gaze on you the entire time, watching your expression contort in pleasure as he parts your lips with his thumb, pressing the pad of his tongue against your sensitive clit, swiping the muscle side to side. you let out a soft moan, hands tangled in simon's dirty blonde locks, pushing his head down further.

"fuck-! just like that, please, feels so good..." you mewl, causing him to groan, his own hips rutting against the sheets, staining the fabric with his pre as he greedily sucked on your sensitive, pulsating nub.

you missed this. this overwhelming feeling of pleasure that hinders your thinking, preventing any coherent thought from entering your mind. you couldn't think, see, nor feeling anything aside from the heat pooling deep inside of you. if simon could unravel you this much with his mouth, how much more damage would he be able to do with his cock?

the thought alone was enough to send you over the edge, but just as you were about to let the feeling override your senses, simon pulls back and sat up, the lower half of his face covered in your arousal, a slick sheen coating his lips and his chin. "fuckin' delicious," he grunts, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

you let out a needy whine at that, lightly kicking simon for edging you. "you're an ass..." you grumbled, to which the older man responds to with an amused chuckle. "won't be sayin' that when i fuck you with this thing." he says, grabbing his thick cock and resting it on your belly. you gawk in awe at his size, swallowing the lump in your throat. how the hell were you going to fit that inside?

"it'll fit." simon mutters, as if reading your mind.

he reaches over to the nightstand, grabbing the small condom packet next to his lamp. he rips off the foil with his teeth, hurriedly slipping it on to his dick. simon's hands grip your hips, pulling you closer to him. he grabs his cock with one hand, dragging it up your slit, rubbing the fat head against your clit a couple of times before positioning himself against your entrance. "ready?"

"hurryyy...' you whine.

slowly, simon began to sink his girth into your pussy, stretching you out with his fat cock to a point where pain collided with the pleasure. you clutched onto his arm, a shuddering breath escaping you.

"that's it, love," he said, voice raspy and strained as he inched further inside of you, "good girl, taking me so well... just a little more, okay?"

you nod. it's all you could bring yourself to do as simon finally bottomed out. he lets out a grunt, gently rocking his hips into you. he kept a steady rhythm, taking his time with each thrust. the slow, agonizing pace drove you wild, especially after he denied you an orgasm just a few minutes prior.

"bloody fuckin' hell..." simon groans, inhaling sharply as your walls hugged snugly around his cock. "not gonna last long if you're this tight, love," he whispers, burying his face into the crook of your neck, nipping at your skin. a desperate whimper escapes your lips, legs wrapping around simon's waist as you complain about his pace. "faster, please... i can't, it's not enough..."

simon simpers, pulling back just enough to leave the tip inside before slamming back into your warm cunt, ripping out a loud moan from your mouth. "that what you want, love?" he asks smugly.

"fuck yes—again! fuck, do it again, please!"

who was simon to deny such a pretty litte thing?

his thrusts begin to accelerate, slamming into you frantically, driving his cock in and out of your tight, wet heat. "fuck, si—ah, shit!" you whimpered, eyes watering with each pound.

simon's hand reaches down, rubbing his thumb against your clit in circles. "does your boyfriend fuck you this good?" he growled, reveling in the way you seemed to tighten up around him at the question. "fucking answer." he demanded, delivering a single hard thrust, causing his tip to kiss your cervix. you cried out at the intensity, shaking your head, sputtering out incomprehensible words with each slam of his cock into your pussy. "gotta him bring him over then. show him how to treat a pretty little girl like you."

simon's previously rhythmic thrusts were now eratic, hips slapping into yours haphazardly, his hand beginning to ache with each circle of his thumb on your nub.

it didn't take long until you were finally teetering over the egde. you threw your head back, "simon, i'm almost—SIMON!"

with a loud cry and a final roll of simon's hips, you both reached your peak. simon let out a strained groan, releasing into the condom. he leaned forward, sighing, and rested his forehead against your shoulder blade.

for a few seconds, you lay in motionless silence, the sound of your shaky breaths filling the space as you both tried to regain your composure.

“jesus christ,” simon eventually groaned, pressing a brief kiss to your shoulder. “you felt amazing.” he then gently eased himself out of you and rolled onto his side, lying next to you. “your boyfriend’s really missin’ out,” he added.

as you lay there, your eyes flickered to your phone, which had been buzzing non-stop. simon noticed your distracted glance and asked, “boyfriend?”

before you could respond, he reached over, snatching the phone from your hand. with a decisive motion, he placed it back on his nightstand, out of reach. he turned back to you, pulling you closer with a firm, yet gentle embrace.

“let’s not think about him,” he said, his voice low and inviting. “tonight’s about you and me.” he nuzzled closer, his touch warm and insistent. “how about we see if we can make this night even better?”

with that, he guided you back into his arms, ready for round two, the promise of a deeper connection hanging in the air. as the night unfolded, the two of you lost yourselves in each other, making love with a renewed sense of passion and intimacy.

meanwhile, your phone continued to buzz with missed calls and texts from your boyfriend, each notification a reminder of the unresolved tension. but for tonight, you chose to ignore it all, focusing instead on the moment with simon and savoring the connection and pleasure that had been so absent. after all, wasn't it his idea for you to leave?

[babybluebex]

no because let's talk about the breeding kink 🤨

sigh, i SHOULD be doing anything other than this... getting ready to move tomorrow... getting ready to start my job tomorrow... my daily cardio... but whatever let's do it

so BIG warning below the cut for explicit smut, if you aren't into that, maybe sit this one out :) cw for obviously breeding kink, a brief diatribe ab safe sex practices, edging/overstim, use of "mommy/daddy" but not sexually (you'll see), a surprise munch!dom shows up at the end

but yeah. he has a thing about breeding you. he doesn't think he does, bc like?? doesn't everyone like that?? he has experience before you, sure, but he's not exactly up to date on what fetishes are normal and what fetishes appear in porn a lot (he is, after all, a 21 year old guy, we can't give him too much credit)

but you don't find out about this kink of his for a little while, you guys have slept together a handful of times but your relationship is starting to get a lot more serious than before, and even though it seems a little quick, it feels right to already be thinking about getting married to him

but you're talking about everything one night, just trying to have healthy communication with a glass of wine yknow, and you ask him like "how do you feel about kids?" and he seems a little nervy?? and he's like "idk... i never really thought about a future of mine that didn't have kids in it" "but do you want them?" "of course. it's just, like, i want them, but i've also never thought about not having them. it's just always something i've wanted" and you're like cool, cool... "i think i wanna have kids with you" and he gets a little pink in the face "aw... thanks... that's sweet"

and you move on from that part of the conversation, and you think it's been forgotten, until a few days later

your man has been fuckin stressed out, luckily he's filming in jersey so he gets to stay relatively close to you, and you manage to rent a little airbnb in the town he's filming in so that he can come home to you, but he's about to tear his hair out, he's trying to film this but then also learn lines for his next project, and he's still slinging out audition tapes for every door his agent can manage to get his foot in, and you hate to see him like this, so he gets home from set one night to the smell of his favorite dinner cooking, and he sets down his stuff and is like "baby?"

comes into the kitchen and yes you're cooking, but you've got your hair done up all pretty with those sparkly pins you wore to the baftas, and you're wearing that lipstick that drives him crazy, and... are you?? you can't be?? wearing one of his shirts and his favorite panties of yours that show off all your assets?? his favorite outfit on you!! and all he can manage is a dry-mouthed lil "wuh?"

and you smile at him "just in time, sweetheart, that oven's about to go off, and then we'll be ready to eat" and you go to him and kiss him gently, and he's still like ‼️ and you go "everything ok? you're quiet"

"what is this...?" and he grabs your hips and does the thing that vision did to wanda in ep1 of wandavision "what are you wearing??"

"well you've been so stressed out..." you start "i wanted to do something nice for you"

"oh baby this is very nice" he says and he can't get his eyes off of you "i might have to marry you if you keep this up"

"is that a promise?"

anyway yeah, he's worked up now and marriage is on his mind (therefore kids are too) and you have dinner, but he eventually gets you in his lap and is rubbing your thighs and kissing your neck and you're trying to talk to him like "should we put on a movie? or i can beam my spotify to the TV and we can listen to some music?" but he's got tunnel vision on your soft skin

so you give it up and start to get into it, kissing him back and tugging off his shirt, and he does the same to you so that you're skin to skin, and like of course you know what a loverboy dom can be, but this is something completely different, this is devotion and admiration and complete sickening love, and you just can't help yourself from whispering "want you to put a baby in me, dommy" and he doesn't skip a beat, almost like he was hoping you'd say something like that "yeah? you wanna have my baby? aren't you on the pill?" "yeah, but i can—" and you pause to bite him bottom lip gently as his hands slink down to your panties "i can get off it" "fuck, baby" he whispers, tilting his head to press a kiss under your ear "don't tease me like that" "not teasing you" you tell him

and he checks with you a couple of times as he gets you in bed and gets you naked, kissing down your body and dragging his tongue around your soft flesh, really making sure you're truly down for all of this, but even through his gentle care, you can see the brick in his jeans and like fuuuuck he wants this so badly too

finally getting him out of his clothes and closing your legs around his waist, and he kisses you deeply as he starts to lean off to the side to the nightstand, and he sorta chuckles "guess we, umm... don't need that... right?"

and you smile and shake your head, and dom gives you a soft melty look "if you change your mind, please let me know" he says gently, taking up his rock-hard dick into his hand and stroking himself a few times "i don't wanna, like, knock you up and it turns out you wanted me to put on a condom halfway thru, like just let me know—" "dominic, i know you're trying to be nice" you start "and i really appreciate that and love you for it, but i already told you: i'm all in. i want this"

and like you have never in your life had unprotected sex before, like the pill was really more for hormone management than actual birth control, and with past partners you've always been cautious and made them wear condoms "just in case" (which like irl is a good practice, it's never a bad idea to be cautious ab sex bc like sti's and various things can be spread without a condom, so like whatever, off my apple box, basically wrap it before you tap it pls) but with dom, you don't have any reason to worry bc you know he's clean and like the desired outcome would only happen without a condom

but maybe it's that safety and security that makes his raw cock inside you feel so much better than usual, and you whimper as he laughs a little "s'okay, baby" he tells you "i've got you, daddy's got you" and you smile and laugh, and you're like "is this me discovering you have a daddy kink?" "no" he scoffs "but it is daddy taking care of mommy. right?"

and he's got those big eyes at you, gnawing on his bottom lip, and you gently use your thumb to pull his lips from between his teeth and you kiss him, and he gets down to business

he's being a little more feral than typical, just holding onto you harder and fucking into you with a quick pace, and he can't keep his mouth off of you, he's either kissing your lips or kissing your neck, and towards the end he presses his lips to your neck and just sorta pathetically moans as he nears his finish

and every sensation inside you is making fireworks pop, all you can do is moan and whimper and claw down his back as hot pleasure spreads throughout your whole body, and your breath catches in your throat when he reaches down and starts playing with your clit, your hips bucking at the sudden onslaught and near overstimulation, but he's being VERY attentive and he notices your breathing change and he goes "you ok?"

you nod quickly, biting your lip harshly "m'close!" you squeak, and he smiles, reaching out above your head and grabbing the headboard to keep himself up, and you really understand what it means to be animalistic, bc he raises his arm and you smell the sweat and pheromones seeping out of his pores and you go a lil crazy for a moment "dom! dom, baby, please, please..." "oh yeah?" he asks and he smiles when you sob out "is it good, baby?" "yes!" you hiccup and you reach up and wrap your fingers around his wrist and just fuckin hang on for dear life and then he suddenly stiffens and freezes and you gasp, worried something's wrong, but his smile is too coy, his eyes glittering too much "tell me how much you want it" he tells you, his fingers hovering so close to your throbbing clit that you swear you can still feel them and you can only manage to mumble a confused "wha...?" "tell me" he says "how much. you want it. tell me how badly you want me to cum inside you and get you pregnant" "you're fucking evil" you gasp and shift your hips to try to get contact with his hand, but he shifts further away, denying it to you "i never claimed to be anything else" he laughs "you want me to knock you up so badly, you gotta tell me" "dommy" you whine "please! you're close too, i can feel you throbbing" and like yeah he's so close to his finish that you don't know how he hasn't busted inside you in the last 30 seconds "well then you better hurry up and talk to me" dom says and you swallow with a dry throat and squeeze his wrist, and you watch his bicep flex and your mouth waters "want it bad, baby" you tell him "want you to fill me up, want it to leak outta me when we're done" "mhm" dom nods, and he leans down and gently kisses your lips "you're gonna get all pregnant, all big with my fuckin baby... walking around like that with my ring on your hand, and everyone'll know what a slut you are, what you let me do to you... s'that it, baby? you wanna be my little slut?" you nod quickly, trying to chase him back into a kiss, but his hand moves from the headboard down to grab your neck and force you back down, and he's not even remotely squeezing or doing anything, he's not even putting force into the push, his hand is just There, and you gasp "yeah!" you whimper, and you throb, flexing around him, and he hisses through his teeth "w-wanna be yours, baby, wanna be only yours"

and with his hand on your throat, he starts fucking into you again, his smooth stomach flexing with each thrust, his tattoo shifting with his skin, and he presses his forehead against yours and kisses you, and he mumbles "gonna..." and you just nod and curl your fingers in his messy hair (that's getting increasingly frizzy and crazy with the sweat and heat), and his eyebrows knit together as his reddened mouth opens against yours, and he chokes out a groan, and then you feel him spilling inside you as his thrusts slow down, filling you and making the whole thing like 1000 times louder with the wet sound of him still fucking you through it

and he keeps going even when he's panting and wincing, and you're like "baby, stop, it's ok" and he cuts you off "gotta make sure it takes..." and goes for a little longer before he slowly pulls out and sighs as he watches his cum seep out of your poor little cunt, and he chuckles lightly "cool"

and you smile and start to reach out to hug him, but he sours pretty quickly "did you cum?" "umm... no" you tell him and he rolls his eyes "fuck, momma, you didn't think to tell me that before i came?" and you laugh but try to hide just how much you love him calling you that "just didn't think about it" and he shakes his head and licks his lips "nah, that's not gonna fuckin work" he says, and he shoves his sweaty curls off of his forehead as he slinks down your body, laying open-mouth kisses on your skin as he goes, and he finally reaches his destination, looking up at you thru his pretty eyelashes before he dives in

and yay munch dom makes an appearance!! bc he's having the time of his life down there, holding your hips in his hands and smoothing his thumbs across your skin, and you're jostling around with every kitten lick he gives you, and he's getting messy and loud, and you just tug on his hair and squeak "dom!" and then the wave of warmth and energy washes over you, and you're just laying there, twitching and sobbing as he continues to eat you through it, and you hear him whisper "good, good, just like that, momma, so good for me"

once you settle down and dom wipes your tears off your face, he gets up and pulls on a pair of sweatpants and they hang all low on his hips as he bustles around, reaching into the bathroom and starting up the shower, find your panties that he had tossed across the room and now hung from the plant in the corner

and he notices u all quiet on the bed and he's like "you ok, sweetheart?"

and you know it's cheesy but you tell him "yeah. we're fine"

"you think it worked?" and he sits next to you and rubs your thigh soothingly

and you nod, and he smiles and kisses you "well, i can't wait to meet them"

[lovelykil]

OK.. so can we have more of crazy insane inlove kyle 🤭but..with a little NSFW pleaseeeeeee?pretty pleaseeee?😇😇

─Headcanons─

kyle x reader older ver.

hc; insane inlove kyle but nsfw

cw; nsfw

note; yes yes also tell me why that one audio from tiktok where it's like "is THAT dick GOOD bitch" and then they say "yesSS KING 😩 ooUAHHG" went through my brain when I was writing this🙁🙁😭

also this is short Idk what else to put tbh ⤵

He hates seeing you with people he didn't trust which was a lot of people besides his bestfriend, Stan.

After a long anxious day of trying to keep himself together as multiple students made talk with you, some even touching you he follows you home without warning of him showing up at your house.

All day he was out of it, he worried you may had started liking someone else

You'll leave him

Stop talking to him

Find him disappointing

Only just because you were hanging out with someone else that wasn't him.

my god he's so possessive he just wants to trap you somewhere forever with him

He enters your house just after a few minutes when you walked in, locking the door behind him and walking up to your room.

He knows your schedule, you go straight to your room to finally rest your brain after an exhausting day of school, then change into some comfortable clothes, scroll a bit on your phone then make a snack for yourself.

Though your routine would be disturbed when you saw the door lock twist, then finally open to reveal Kyle.

You jumped back a little frightened from his uninvited visit, you landed on your bed with a shriek.

"Kyle?! What the hell are you even doing here dude?" You cried out a little mad, he was always doing some weird shit and this was one.

He slowly walked up to you not saying a word till he began to pin you down, his two long arms resting beside your shoulders. He panted slowly, his frizzy curly hair blocking his eyes

You immediately started to blush, taken back by his action you fell back on the bed, your elbows no longer supporting you.

"kyle?.."

"please tell me I'm yours, please don't leave me." Kyle's voice trembled from above, he softly started to sniffle like he was crying from underneath his messy hair.

Your eyes widen, you sat up slightly and moved aside his hair in his face to see his watery eyes. His eyes met you and you could tell he was just loosing it.

You fell silent for a second, deciding whether or not you should even ask why he wanted you to say that, ever since you guys started dating he's been.. well

"It's okay I'm yours, I won't leave you, Kyle." You put your hand on his cheek and wiped away a small tear running down his pale cheek, smiling calmly at him.

He melted into your touch, his hand setting on yours. You watched as he slowly calmed down his head inching down to your neck. You suddenly felt a heat to your face when his hot breath came in contact with your bare skin.

You struggled to maintain calm growing nervous with each second.

"really? do you mean it sweetheart?" In a hush tone he asked, placing an innocent soft kiss to your neck

You nodded nervously, a low moan escaping from your lips.

"you know I would kill for you, right?" His words sent a weird sensation downward, you were completely shocked but just got turned on at the same time.

Maybe it was just the way he said it, so low.. and into your ear or the close contact with your body next to his, he was on top of your small figure.

Before you could answer him you felt his knee hit against your middle causing a gasp from you, you put a hand to your mouth quickly.

"What are you doing??" You put your hand down, now more nervous and aroused as ever.

"I wanna hear you say my name and tell me you're mine." He answered, kissing your neck some more, his leg starting to rub against your temple through your pants. You sucked in your lips from the pleasure he was making you feel, your eyes shutting.

"I'm waiting." Kyle stopped, pulling away from your neck to look down at you.

You nodded your head, your eyebrows curving "yes I'm yours Kyle, please.." You whined.

He smiled, kissing your cheek slowly going down to suck on your skin.

"what a good girl you are."

[biscuitsngravie]

Daylight by Moonlight

Vampire!Nanami x Reader

cw/tw/tags: vampire!nanami, fem!reader, hematophogy (blood drinking), not editied cause im tired

wc: 2295

an: idk what to tag it regarding characters and stuff. should i just put in all the ppl who'll be included eventually or just tag them as they appear? also this is 100% gonna have smut later cause like, vampires are hot. do i tag it smut now or later? help! 😭

Chapter One

He opens his eyes suddenly, a sheen of sweat cooling his exposed skin with his heart pounding in his chest. He doesn’t need to check the time to know that he’s up before his alarm, the buzzing in the street confirming that much. His bangs lightly poke him in the eyes, fitting around the eyelashes that futilely try to fight against them. With one, heavy sigh he brushes them back, willing his heart to slow down. He eventually sits up and cradles his face in his hands, bringing his knees to his chest to breathe. 

Breathe…

Breathe…

Breathe……….

“He’s still breathing!”

“His heart rate’s coming back up! Hey, can you hear me?”

“It’s getting too high, he’s gonna go into shock!”

“Hey buddy, can you hear me? We’re gonna take care of ya, just hang in there!”

His alarm snaps him back into reality, sending a jolt down his spine. The surprise sets his heart aflame again, but this time it’s almost welcomed. Alarms nowadays are a lot more varied, from sing-songy (much like Gojo’s) to industrial ones that are a tad nostalgic. Kento’s personally decided to go for one that imitates birds chirping, a sound he occasionally misses from the mornings that now rings as his lullaby. 

He stretches his legs back out and leans over to check the time for sunset. Upon realizing it’s about an hour or so he softly groans to do a full body stretch before rising from the bed. He’s not too keen on doing laundry yet again this week, gathering the sheets to toss into his hamper before stepping into the shower. The water is hot, so hot it just barely burns his skin, but the sting is welcomed. It makes him feel alive. 

Small drops cascade over his body, racing each other down the drain. He softly chuckles to himself as he places imaginary bets on ones that glide down his thighs. He eventually dips his head under the stream, hissing slightly at the sting and turning the temperature down just a little to make it more bearable. His shampoo bottle pathetically squirts out just enough for his hair for one wash, and he curses himself for hanging out with Gojo the day (to him at least) prior rather than doing the grocery run he planned. 

The sound of the water hitting his skin and the tile fills his ears, drowning him in familiar memories once again. 

“I’m so sorry, young man! Are you hurt?”

“You don’t think he’s one of them, do ya?”

“He ain’t got no fangs—”

“Some of’em are sneaky like that! Open yer mouth, boy!”

*ding*

*ding*

*ding*

A fourth ding on his phone can almost undoubtedly confirm that it’s none other than the troublemaker himself reaching out. Nanami moves on with his shower and steps out with his towel around his waist. He forces his bangs to lay away from his face to squint at his phone. 

Gojo Satoru: <<Nanamiiii!>>

Gojo Satoru: <<Good morningggg (⁠~⁠￣⁠³⁠￣⁠)⁠~>>

Gojo Satoru: <<I can’t stop by tonight but Choso should be there soon!>>

Gojo Satoru: <<Suguru’s letting me spend the day at his place!!! 😋>>

Nanami huffs incredulously. Well that’s sure a surprise. Though a part of him weeps for Gojo’s poor lover. He sends a text of warning back. 

<<Don’t try to bite him.>>

A text comes back almost immediately. Nanami can almost hear the saccharinely sweet feigned innocence dripping from the words on screen. 

Gojo Satoru: <<Oh whatever do you mean~>>

Nanami doesn’t even have the energy to kiss his teeth the way he wants before moving on, deciding that the message isn’t worthy of a response. He stands in front of the mirror to brush his teeth, bringing out his fangs and being sure to brush around them, only retracting them once he has to shrug his tongue. Once done with a quick and simple face wash and moisturizer he blowdries his hair from soaking to damp, leaving it wet enough to mold later. After doing a pat down with his towel, moisturizing the rest of his body, and getting dressed, he returns to his vanity to finish his hair off, using a gentle pomade and steady fingers. 

Though he’s done it more times than he could possibly count, he can’t relax until it’s molded into the perfect shape. As he does so, he notices his eyes slowly taking on a red tint under the caramel. The doorbell ringing almost cues the growling of his stomach and the aching beginning to creep in his bones. He settles for “good enough” and begins to head downstairs, dressed in everything but his shoes. 

There stands Choso, a pale but stocky man. Over a lot of time and quite a few half conversations, he’s learned that only one of his parents was a vampire, that parent quickly fucking off and living life who knows where not long after Choso’s conception. Choso inherited a jumble of traits that might as well have been taken out of a mystery bag with one’s eyes closed. He has that stark, pale skin, yet no fangs. He can survive on little blood, human blood stretching much farther for him than most. Though he can walk in the sun, he still has a sun sensitivity that generally keeps him safely tucked away, especially during the summer. Even without that state, he prefers the community of fellow vampires over humans either way. The bags under his eyes are completely separate, as he’s an incurable night owl with an early shift. He also has a brother. He also had more. 

“Please come in,” Nanami says uselessly, this becoming a routine for over a decade now. Choso still politely waits for the invitation, however, a mutual commitment to the bit. Nanami’s body is already buzzing with anticipation, every one of his muscles flexing at the sight of the wagon Choso totes behind him. A familiar smell wafts up to his nose, making him grunt.

Choso lets out a half-laugh. “Gojo-san felt generous.”

Nanami notices the way he’s tensing and wills himself to calm down. “H-how many extra?” he chokes out, his fangs already baring without his will. 

“Five.”

“Christ—”

“That’s what I said. Worst fucking haul of my life. Took everything in me not to tear into it, and I don’t even drink much.” Choso makes his way through the entrance hall past the first living area, heading to the industrial kitchen on the right. Once inside, he goes straight for the walk-in cooler and begins opening the top of the wagon. He hands one to the Nanami, deciding not to comment on the veins now poking against his temple and the eyes that have fully turned now. He faces the cooler shelves and reorganizes the leftover bags from the week before, moving the labels to keep the dates in order. “Alright, let’s see…”

Nanami greedily takes the bag in his hands, hastily tearing the corner off the packaging made for easy feeding. His body warms immediately, tingling and buzzing as the blood flows through him. It smells sickeningly sweet as it rushes throughout his system, but what else could he expect from Gojo Satoru. With the way he feels, he won’t have to feed for another month or so, and it wouldn’t be the first time. Gojo’s blood is divine and anyone who’s anyone knows that. 

Gojo Satoru: The sole remaining descendant of the Original Vampire. And to think he was only half. He contains every trait that any one person (or not) could dream of: his senses enhanced tenfold beyond the strongest vampire anyone could name. His regeneration and strength ridiculously above what should be vampirily possible. His stamina, his speed, his everything. With immunity to the sun and gifted in looks as well, he’s just as much the most annoying being on the planet. 

But his blood is heavenly. If Gojo were a con artist he could sell it by the two ounce bottle and ensure that anyone who had a taste could maybe be like him someday! Hell, with the way it feels right now, even Nanami would entertain the thought, even if no more than a brief lapse in judgement. Once his eyes hazily focus again after rolling to the back of his skull, he tries to strike up conversation as Choso does his work. 

“Sorry for not doing that, I thought Gojo-san was coming.”

“S’fine, I don’t mind it really. I like this kinda work anyway.” he sighs softly, clasping his hands momentarily as he surveys the bags he has before him. “I wanted to try something, tell me if you like. If not I’ll just go back to the normal stuff.” Choso grabs one bag with an extra label on it right under the date. “This one, aaand, where is it? Oh, these ones over here? I tried curing them. This one is withhh…” he squints at the bag to read the description, “Oh! So this is a Mediterranean vegetable medley. This one over here I put with chorizo, I dunno what I was thinking, but it was kind of a double-process.”

Nanami hums in interest, his eyebrows raising in curiosity. 

“And this one, I was actually supposed to deliver a while ago, but forgot. I decided to put some, uh, some yeast and sugar and cinnamon and stuff in it. Kind of like…” he snaps his fingers a few times and scrunches his nose as he tries to search the air for the word that escapes him. 

“Apple cider?” Nanami offers. 

“That!” he points back, “exactly that! I know you don’t mind the normal stuff, but you’re a chef, you know?”

“Owning a restaurant doesn’t make you a chef, it—”

“It makes you something. Besides, you basically cook for yourself all the time. It’s nice to let vampires do things for you sometimes.”

Nanami sighs to dispel the smile that threatens to tug at his lips. Even if he wasn't told, he and Itadori are brothers without a doubt. “I’ll try them. If I don’t see you next time I’ll be sure to text you my thoughts.”

“My first food review,” Choso chuckles at the joke made almost to himself. His ears perk up when he hears Nanami clear his throat.

“Would like one of Gojo-san’s?”

His eyes widen at the offer. “Oh no! No it’s no worries, he said he owes me for the last minute call so trust me, I have a lot to look forward to.” Choso sighs airily with a smile. “That human’s got him wrapped around his finger, I see.”

“He’s letting him spend the day over for the first time,” Nanami comments, letting Choso pull the wagon out of the walk-in.

“Oh? Suguru’s lucky he’s male or Gojo-san would keep him barefoot and pregnant.”

“Technology is advancing fast nowadays, if he ever turns that’s when he’d really be in trouble,” Nanami half mumbles to himself, pulling a laugh from Choso as they walk to the door. 

“That reminds me, do you know if Yuuji works today?” he asks, turning around after leading the wagon out the door. 

“Any particular reason why?”

“He’s been dodging my calls and I need to talk to him.”

Nanami’s not one to distribute information on his employees, regardless of familial relation. Unless it’s an emergency, everything is under lock and key, or in these times, safes. Though the information proves quite interesting considering that Itadori’s been especially active on his phone as of late. So much so that Nanami actually has a talk scheduled with him once he comes in. 

“It’s not nothing bad or anything, it’s just…” Choso exhales tiredly, scruffing up the back of one of his ponytails. “He’s got this boy toy recently—”

“And he’s human,” Nanami interrupts without really meaning to, letting his thoughts flow right from his lips. Choso nods in confirmation. Nanami mirrors him and says, “He works eleven to seven thirty.”

“Thank you,” comes out almost in a whisper, as if Itatdori himself were standing right there. With a sharp nod and an exchange of departing messages, Nanami closes the door and continues the pack from Gojo. Once he’s done he makes a small breakfast for himself. Though he doesn’t need to, making food and cooking it is fun. He likes the smells, the textures, the flavors. Anyone would say that as much as it is a necessity for some, the act of eating is plain old fun. No wonder his grandad opened all of these restaurants, besides the other reason. 

It’s only eight, so the grocery stores should still be open by the time he’s done with the cooking and cleanup. Cleanup being “put everything into the dishwasher and turn on heated dry.” Once he’s done with that, he heads to a nearby store and buys his coveted shampoo, sighing with relief as he picks up the last bottle. He decides not to go back home to drop it off, rather enjoying the warmth of the night. He walks down the sidewalk, already bustling with night owls and those who try to steal some time to themselves after their jobs before inevitably dragging themselves back home to sleep and do it again. 

He admires the way the trees decorating the sidewalks have their first signs of buds, soft and delicate to the touch. Sometimes he feels they’re so fragile they may disintegrate right before him. Spring is coming. Spring means summer. And summer means shorter days. He sighs to himself, looking to the stars, awaiting the “Quiet Hour,” when the city turns off its lights to let everyone enjoy their light. To bask in the suns that are too far away to hurt them.

When the clock reaches half past nine, he begins his walk towards work. 

[mingos]

oof. so… hello.

i know i’m not obligated to explain my absences, but i figured i should anyway because this is actually a long-standing issue i've been dealing with that, god fucking willing, doesn't happen againーbut that is what i told myself three weeks ago before it happened again. basically, because it can sometimes be so common, kinda just want to give a heads up if i ever start acting weird or distant because apparently i've upset some people i didn't mean to.

that stresses me out because, as i've mentioned before, i kind of have this tendency to shut down completely during stressful situations and not speak to anybody, which eventually turns into friends dropping me for a perceived lack of interest (not their fault, my fault). i'm actively trying to break that habit & be okay with vulnerability, so i want to be honest about where i've been and where i could potentially go in the future if this shit happens againーin a few weeks, in a few months, tomorrow... it all just depends, it's not a situation i can control. i'm not trying to ignore people. i just deal with a lot sometimes.

content warnings immediately below the cut but idk maybe just don’t read this if you’re in a bad headspace, or a really good headspace that you don't want ruined. no one should read this, actually. just jump to the last two paragraphs. this is just me explaining i'll hopefully feel okay enough to be back by the weekend.

-

cw: alcoholism; cw: domestic abuse; cw: gen. bad mental health

　i currently live in a dysfunctional situation with an alcoholic & addict family member as the last person in our family yet to distance themselves/cut them off. reason being is they relapse a lot. like, “an average of at least once every 2-4 months since i was 14” a lot. this is a long-standing problem. they’ve been through quite literally every treatment plan imaginable and nothing has stuck.

i do love this person; the majority of the time they're not relapsing, they’re kind & loving. when it’s good, it’s good. but when it’s bad jesus christ… i gotta level with you and say i've feared for my life a couple times.

they become angry & spiteful when drunk and, as of the last few years, physical. mostly when i try to confiscate things i find because i'm "stealing their property" and it’s therefore, to their drunk mind, justifiable. this is a mindset i’m still trying to unlearn because of course i don’t deserve it—taking a wine bottle away from an alcoholic for their own good isn’t justification for them almost suffocating you in an attempt to get it back, or breaking the lock on your bedroom door—but it’s hard to internalize that sometimes when your brain is beaten down, y’know?

when not being guilted into silence so i don’t “ruin their life more” or get threatened with being removed from the house by police, i’ve pretty much exhausted any sympathy or help i get from the rest of my family. half of them either have my # blocked or don’t answer under the weird assumption my family member is going to… use my phone to contact them? which is something that’s never happened before. the other half kind of just shrug because i’m choosing to say here and am an adult with the ability to leave whenever i want, just like they did.

　but i can’t leave—because, like i said, it’s just me now. no one else checks on this person, no one else lives with us, and i’ve already had to call 911 for them multiple times. living with them during a relapse is hell but so is whenever i have to leave the house because if something happens to them or their dog that suddenly becomes my fault. basically, whenever these episodes happen it’s just several days (or weeks) of nonstop stress. but there's nothing else i can really do. i just have to put up with it & ride it out.

-

　things have finally calmed down again; apologies were made, talks were had, we cleaned out their stash together... i finally have some breathing room. kind of. i still have no energy to do anything because i've just been in survival mode the last week (& also sick), so hopefully i can be back to writing by this weekend but i really don't know. i'm still paranoid something bad is going to happen so maybe i'm not out of that mindset just yetーi need to decompress a little before i can feel normal again.

thank you for your patience, and for those who have checked on me & especially those who were understanding it was kind of hard for me to have the energy to talk outside of my one or two comfort people. i miss you all very many and hope nothing more for you all to be loved, warm & safe. love you all very many.

[transmasc-wizard]

the "XYZ spaces should warn for any trigger, otherwise it's ableist" section of TW/CW discourse confuses me, because it seems to have a very skewed idea of what can be triggering

of course common TWs should be clearly available in presentations, programs, media when possible (like on doesthedogdie), etc. but anything can be a trigger. one of my biggest (irl only, that's why i'm sharing it, don't put ur triggers online) triggers is guys in camo who are taller than me. you cant.... like..... ban those from public. "sometimes you're going to just have to learn how to deal with a trigger" is not inherently ableist. it CAN be, very much so, but again. tall guys in camo. cmon. the lads who buy their clothes at canadian tire are still allowed in the outside world

other things like: doors opening! the smell of a certain laundry detergent! birds! a certain character! can be triggers. and as someone who has almost exclusively "weird" or unexpected triggers (for the anxiety, trauma, and dissociation!), i feel like the focus that some (especially online) spaces have on just "making sure all triggers are avoided and meticulously tracked at all times" is. idk. those discord servers with a list of like 50 random topics that Must be avoided don't help me. what helps me is resources that tell me how to deal with these triggers, and others having a baseline understanding of what being triggered entails/what i might need if it happens. just my 2 cents

[kedreeva]

Excuse me, may I ask what your tag "want for ts" means? I only know the shortening standing for team speak and I am always left in utter, but somewhat hilarious confusion because of this when stumbling over that tag.

Thank you and have a nice day.

So, I'll probably show my age here but my tagging system for my blog, which is a filing system for me, mostly, I created when I made my blog back in 2012. Back then, there was no native blacklist feature and I'm not even sure xkit had it yet, so people used an extension called "tumblr savior" that allowed you to blacklist tags. It was also considered hugely impolite to put negative things into the main tags of stuff, so if you wanted to tag something for someone to block, as opposed to tag something for someone to find, many people would tag "[thing] for ts" as in [thing] for tumblr savior (to block).

At some point people started tagging other stuff like "tw" for "trigger warning" (which was hell for me, because I was in teen wolf (tw) fandom at the time), and then "cw" came for a bit and I still see that sometimes, but i remember there being a scuffle about how to put it (eg, "cw X" or "cw: X" or "X cw" etc) because until "for ts" there was no clear order it should go in by syntax. Now tumblr has a native blacklist and idk what people are using to label their own stuff, but my filing system (again, the one I use mostly for me) never really left the "for ts" days. I still use it because if I wanted to look up, for instance, "blood" and find posts ABOUT blood, then I don't want to also slog through a bunch of posts I've tagged as a warning.

so, "wank for ts" is just my way of labeling something as "this is some bullshit, feel free to block it"

[koffing-time]

I will gladly interact with you! Send an ask! @ me! I would love to RP with you. I will do an (IC) promo if you ask (assuming i'm popular enough for that lmao)!

Hello Hello ~

My name is Tix (they/them, occasionally it/its), and welcome to my rotomblr blog! I'm 23, I'm from Unova and i have a small café on Route 3 right outside Striaton City. If you don't find it, just look for the Daycare on the hill, walk up that hill and look for the building at the foot of the hill! And now come in and get a cupcake, you earned it!

Don't be alarmed by the poison types around here! Most of them are registered to me and are completely harmless unless you touch them. They are also friendly, so if you wanna pet them, ask me! I'll gladly provide handling advice.

I also have an employee, Olivia. I might occasionally mention him. Maybe she'll also make a few post here and there.

There is also Brandy, my Rotom. Let's hope they can behave!

As for my Pokémon, there are a few! [Complete list of Pokémon including retcons at the end in the ooc section]

My Koffing, Coffee! The shop's named after him! Look at his FABULOUS moustache!

Bienenstich the Scolipede, she's very good with kids. If you need someone to look after your toddler, she's the gal! (i am so not kidding)

Cream the Haunter. No, your drink isn't haunted, she just helps me out a bit.

Muffin the Roselia, he's the primary gardener. I would do more around there but he doesn't let me.

Poppy the Toxicroak, he's a cool guy. He also makes music with me.

Basil the Toxtricity. Best bassist i've ever met (sorry Roxie).

Carrot Cake the Clodsire. He doesn't do much, but that's okay.

Rhubarb the Ekans. Little rascal. Don't trip over him.

Eggplant the Skorupi. He's new, still getting to know him myself!

Soup the Grimer is also quite new. I hatched him from a strange egg.

Also here's three pics of me. (//i forgor what the picrew were. if anyone knows, let me know)

//Pelipper Mail is on

//I will draw your OCs badly

OOC below the cut:

// Hi, hello. I run this blog as a side blog, so I'll like and follow from my main @fire-water-grass-core. If you need to address me (the player/mun), I'm okay with any pronouns, and if you need a name you can call me Kama, Nox or Cheese. I also run:

@zekrom-sword where i explore some darker themes (ig?) regarding pokémon hunting. This blog is less focused on blogging though and goes more into headcanon/fanfic territory. I'm happy to RP with Felix (muse over there) though!

@fire-water-grass-core is the main, as mentioned. Originally it was planned for that one to be a personal blog for Olivia, Tix' employee, but i didn't really get into it. I mostly use it for OOC stuff regarding rotomblr ig?

@kamataros is my general, non-pkmn-irl blog. idk what you would want there? but feel free to check it out. I post a lot of shit and a lot of it is untagged.

NOW for the rules ig?

ZERO: don't be a dick. easy, right? right. This is the important part :)

First: blanket #unreality warning. I will tag posts usually as pokemon irl, #pkmn irl or #pokeblogging. The actual unreality tag is reserved that genuinely blends reality and fiction (such as talking about animals in the context of the pokemon world.)

Second: i went on a BIG hiatus for like 6 months. I've retconned a few things, but i didn't want to actually go through the blog and delete stuff. Instead, i tagged all old posts as #Koffing-Time-1.0. Everything with this tag is not neccesarily canon anymore. case-to-case basis i guess.

Third: If anything comes up, I'll try to put a warning tag. I'll keep it to one format: #cw [trigger]. I will probably still use them sparingly, since i'm personally okay with most things. Please tell me if i should tag something.

Fourth: I won't participate in high stakes a lot and probably never in ultra stakes. Everything will be appropriately tagged #high stakes pokereality on the off chance that i do join. I don't think i will be getting into details like "low stakes" and "medium stakes" for tagging.

Fifth: Regarding sentient/sapient pokémon: they are allowed. I might ignore them if i ever do any story-arcs or so, but go ahead! (this was different for 1.0)

Sixth: Ask games will be tagged with #ask game. Once i reblog them, they are open indefinitely, including old ones from #Koffing-Time-1.0. The tag will be for the initial meme only, not the answers to make it possible to find them. Generally, please put the question for the meme into your ask, especially if it's an older ask game. (Feel free to ask Brandy or Olivia as well, but if not specified it will be Tix answering)

Seventh: DMs are an OOC zone :)

OTHER TAGS:

I'm trying to use a funny tagging system for blogs i "frequently" interact with (as in.. i am not chronically on tumblr so "frequently" is a bit much to say)

Out of Character posts will be tagged with #ooc . This goes only for posts where a significant portion is ooc.

Out of Character answers to asks will be tagged #cheesy answers

Out of Character notes will be marked as // or //ooc (including tags)

I might reblog art or even posts that tix isn't involved in. these will be tagged #//reblog

Posts involving details about certain headcanons will be tagged #headcanon

Image descriptions or Video description will be in [brackets] .

Also here is a (not complete) list of a few headcanons that i use.

I'll update and edit this post as well as reblog it if something changes.

Lastly

I, Cheese, Mun will use pink coloured text in addition to the //

Tix will be writing/talking in colourless text

Olivia will be writing/talking in blue text

Brandy will be writing/talking in red text

otherwise, i won't use much colours in posts. this intro blog stuff will be the exception to make it easier to read (i hope)

That being said: feel free to interact, feel free to send a DM, feel free to send asks, I'm happy to do offscreen posts and RP and whatnot, I won't bite and i won't poison you. Probably.

PS: little thing about reblog chains (i guess?)

Now, that was a long one. If you read it all, congratulations, have a cookie. Or a coffee. And most importantly: have fun!

PPS: Here's a list of Tix'Pokémon:

Coffee the Koffing

Muffin the Roselia

Bienenstich the Scolipede

Cream the Haunter

Poppy the Toxicroak

Basil the Toxtricity

Cracker the Murkrow (retconned) [it hurt me to do this but there are so many already] (never fucking mind i love them too much i can't delete them)

Cheese the (shiny) Crobat (retconned) [it hurt me to do this but there are so many already] (never fucking mind i love them too much i can't delete them)

Rhubarb the Ekans

Chocco the Salandit (retconned)

Carrot Cake the Clodsire

Pumpkin the Bellsprout (retconned)

Loaf the Trubbish (retconned)

Yoghurt the Yveltal (retconned)

Bun the (ultra domesticated) Trubbish (retconned)

Roll the (ultra domesticated) Tubbish (retconned)

Appleslice the (ultra domesticated) Mareanie (reconned)

Bacon the (ultra domesticated) Mareanie (retconned)

Lettuce the (ultra domesticated) Mareanie (retconned)

Tomato the (ultra domesticated) Mareanie (retconned)

Caramel the Beedrill (retconned)

Tofu the Sliggoo (retconned)

Annie Stonefruit the (albino) Cranidos (retconned)

Jack the Pumpkaboo (retconned)

Brandy the Rotom

Eggplant the Skorupi

Leonard the bed-sized Clodsire Plush

Soup the Baby-Grimer

If all of Tix team appear in a post (i doubt) it'll be tagged with #tix band

Also a list of Olivias Pokémon

Hans the Lotad

Grill the Darmanitan

Marbles the Alolan Exeggutor (tagged with just #marbles the exeggutor )

The Kalosian the Escavalier (tagged with just #kalosian the escavalier)

Beach Ball the Gible

Gregor the Gimmighoul

If all of Olivias Team appear in a post, it'll be tagged #olivias gang

[toniyx]

meeyow!!! hello there, I'm Tonix, this is my secondary account lol. I'm mainly an artist, but I may write some headcanons from time to time.

I'm gonna post my lazier stuff, more explicit stuff, & thoughts here so look out for that

fandoms:

- Portal/Half-Life 🧡💙

- The Stanley Parable 〽️🪣

- ULTRAKILL 🩸🪽

- Ace Attorney ⚖️✒️

- Wolvesville 🐺🏘️

(this list will get updated as time goes on)

prev fandoms:

- Transformers 👾🚓

- Hazbin Hotel 🌹👁️‍🗨️

please DNI if you are a part of either of these. thanks!!!

stuff I do :

- digital & traditional art

- animation sometimes

- OCs

- roleplay

- sometimes little headcanons and stuff???

- idk there's not much else, if you're a mutual ask for art if you want, usually just gonna be sketches

- I do commissions so if you ever want one of those yeah, reduced price for friends/mutuals

content warnings, DNI, and blog rules below, please read. (separate rules for headcanons/writing requests are here)

CWs:

- bugs, either talked about or posted about, I love bugs (probably won't TW this past here so, heed my warning)

- violence, guns/knives, potential talk of cannibalism, occasional dark jokes/comedic violence, etc. (text stuff might not be tagged, but gore art will most likely be tagged as #gore art, #robogore and/or #gore)

- possible mention of drugs; all will be censored, won't go into anything crazy

- bright colors/very saturated art (will be tagged & probably put under a cut. block #bright colors and #neon if you don't want to see any of this)

- maybe some NSFT lol (will tag either #suggestive or #nsft)

- I may ramble and get annoying

DNI:

- under 18, sorry pals. feel free to interact on my main account tho!

- Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss/Transformers fans

- super religious blogs (excluding fandoms obv)

- on that same note, super political blogs

- anyone toxic or looking to start drama

- not really a DNI, but I'm aromantic, keep that in mind while talking to me and don't push your luck

- AI art users

- proshippers

- "don't support X creator"/"did you know that X said Y about Z" fellas, again, no unnecessary drama here please

blog rules:

- don't repost my art anywhere else, even with credit given. ask me directly before using as a PFP/banner/etc., but using as wallpaper is fine so long as you don't share it. (note: sharing a link to one of my posts somewhere is absolutely fine)

- do not use my art for your own OCs; inspiration is totally fine but if you're just snagging my stuff just... no, man, no

- generally don't request art unless you're a mutual, but if you're really polite about it or give an idea that I really like I may draw you something

- asks may be deleted without warning and without telling you. if you did something that upset me I'll try to reach out and tell you the first few times, but past that you're blocked, yada yada yada.

and lastly, this is totally gonna be a repeat, but here's my biggest rule of all: absolutely no drama here. be dramatic about anonymous people all you want, but no-one you could identify by looking them up. this is also not your place to complain/nitpick about something that someone else on here (namely I) might like.

cancel culture is a huge no-no here. people are people; people make mistakes and have shitty opinions. unless they were convicted of a crime, I don't wanna hear about whose content I should/shouldn't enjoy.

[https-cyber-slxt]

The Fox's Wedding

Gustave "Doc" Kateb x Yandere!Cannibal!Fem!Reader

Born in the Capital, bound and raised

Only how many years passed then I have been

played with, ate rotting humans.

But how many years? At the time of my birthday.

I found you, and thought strongly of you.

I want to eat, I want to eat, really craving to eat you.

----------------------------------------------------------

I don't really put warnings, but I am going to for the sake of this, it's pretty mild, but I'll still put warnings.

CW: Blood, gore (quite a bit 😀), knives, swearing, reader is literally a fucking cannibal, idk what else I should put but lemme know what I missed 😭

----------------------------------------------------------

You lowly growl as Monika's body lays limp beneath you, your hands grasping the floor as the blood from her stomach flows underneath her, your teeth continue biting into her skin as more and more of her insides were revealed.

One of your hands grasps her sides to keep her still as your other hand completed the digging process. Your eyes immediately averted to her fresh organs, some still pumping with life.

Just as you were about to grab her intestines, a voice stopped you in your tracks, "Hey! What the fuck!?"

Your head turns towards the witness, Ash.. You quickly get up, hands and mouth filled with blood met Ash's vision as you turned full body towards her.

Her face with filled with panick, disgust and worrisome, perfect, you loved your victims filled with fear.

"(N-name)? What h-happened?" Ash's voice laced with fear, her eyebrows furrow as you approach her slowly, until you were face to face with her. You grab her shoulder and place yourself right next to her ear.

You whisper softly to her, almost in a comforting voice, "Shhh it's okay, see, you didn't even feel it"

Ash let's out a whimper as she looks down, your hand was right through her chest, blood falls from her mouth as she chokes on it, she attempts to swear at you "F-f-fuck y-you" were her last words before falling limp.

You pull your hand out, a heavy object in it, Ash's heart, you smile to yourself as you think about your one true love, Gustave, maybe you'll win his heart with this one. (Corny ik)

The Next Day | 7:30 PM | Gustave's Apartment

You stand outside of Gustave's apartment, you mess around with the white box in your hand, nervous that he might not like his present.

Hesitantly, you knock on his door three times, your heart pounding and face flushing red, he opens the door, his tired face immediately switching to a shocked one.

He looks up at you and smiles "(Name)! Why, it's been awhile no?" Playfulness in his voice, you nod your head in excitement and respond back "Haha, yeah, it has been a bit, uh, i-is it fine if I come i-inside?"

"Of course, come on in" Gustave responded back, your heart really started to pound, you thought that you were about to have a heart attack.

You walk into the room, your heels clicking along with your steps, you hear the door behind you close, "What's in there?" Gustave unexpectedly asks.

You stutter with your answer "O-oh uh, it's a present, for y-you of course!"

"Just for me? You shouldn't have"

Your smile grew bigger at his words as you pass the present to him, "Oh well, let's sit down first"

You didn't answer with words, but instead nodded as you made your way towards the couch.

He sets the present on the coffee table in between the both of you, immediately but gradually pulling off the rope holding the prize.

Your heart flutters with nervousness, what if he doesn't like it?

After a bit of more pulling (idk how to word it) he finally lifts up the top of the box.

His eyes widen as he was met with a gruesome sight, he looks up to see you gone, no where in your seat.

He hears the door behind him click, he looks back to be met with you locking his door, a frown on your face, "I knew you would be hesitant about it" you sadly spoke, your butterfly knife dangling in between your fingers.

"Please, just listen to me, I know I'm fucked up, but it's all for you"

Sadness and desperation laced your voice, tears swelling up in your eyes.

His eyebrows furrow at you, he stands up and slowly walks towards you, one of his hands land on your shoulders, the other stroking your cheek.

You lean into his touch, tears falling down and on to the ground, "I- I can't, I'm sorry, I'm speechless, I really don't know what to say"

Your eyes dull, did you just get rejected? No, no you couldn't have been, you've been everything he wanted, and you still got rejected??

The grip on your knife tightened, more tears falling down your cheeks.

"If I can't have you, no one will" we're the last words he heard before feeling a sharp pain in his throat, his hand grips your shoulder harder as he pulls himself closer to you.

His lips met yours for a split second before dropping to the floor dead, your dull eyes continue to stare at his lifeless body on the ground.

You drop to your knees in front of him, if he can't be your lover, he'll make a nice snack instead.

-------------------------------------------

A/N: Legit had no idea what I was doing, but hey, it was actually pretty fun to write.

[minervavasa]

TW/CW: Idk what to put here; I just feel like it should come with a warning of some kind because I am not well

I always fill my pill case on Saturdays.

I look at all the bottles lined up and I wonder why. Why do I bother? All of this effort just to stay alive?

What the hell good has that ever done me?

Everything is so harsh, and I wonder if I would even recognize softness if I came across it.

"Maybe a dose of childhood nostalgia that I don't have will help" I tell myself as I watch an episode of The Muppets. It doesn't.

I'm trying to clean because it needs to be done, even while the alarm bells are going off in my head telling me that I'm overdoing it. I'll just pay for that later. Everything comes to collect later. I do my best to stave off the debt with coffee and Xanax, but eventually it will all add up.

There's so much harping about trauma survivors needing to heal. Yes. But fucking gods. My therapist says he doesn't think I have an inner child because the bullshit started *that* early for me. And last week he said he has zero suggestions for me to cope. His actual sentence was "There's no way to cope with this." So then what am I supposed to be healing? And how? Why do I bother?

Missing Limbs comes on in my earbuds and I'm folded in half on the kitchen floor, sobbing. I hate this fucking tile. It feels like the hardest substance known to man. No softness there.

I wish I could do what he's done. The Lion.

Built something beautiful from my pain. But I don't see anything beautiful here to build with. Only ashes. Twisted, rusty metal. A sea of dull grey. Destruction.

I am a sculpture made out of razor blades.

The bottom shelf of the cabinet over the kitchen sink is nothing but pill bottles. That awful shade of brown, all printed with a name I hate. Six letters no one ever spells or pronounces correctly. Including my family. If they can't make you a real person, no one else ever will.

But I keep the name anyway.

It's also the name printed on my degree.

The pill case is full for another week.

But damn if I know why.

[savventeen]

🎧 for the ask game please? i'd like some song recommendations because my playlist is like 80% kpop help-

but also!!! hihi savv i hope you're having a good day today ily ♡♡♡

OMG HI XANTHE!!!! 💙✨ i hope ur having a good day too!!!!

okay im gonna go ahead and give u a few bc ur the only one to send one in so far and i have So Many songs i want to write fic for sjdjdkkddk (narrowing it down to three was actually really hard lmao)

first up i'm gonna give you i will by mitski

so stay with me / hold my hand / there's no need / to be brave and all the quiet things you bear / seal them up with care / no one needs to know they're there / for i will hold them for you 'cause all i've ever wanted is here / all i ever wanted / all i want is / always you / it's always you and we're not out of the tunnel / i bet you, though, there's an end and while you sleep / i'll be scared / so by the time you wake / i'll be brave

this makes me want to write qpr reader x member emotional hurt/comfort. like, just them being vulnerable with each other and holding each other (both physically and emotionally) and reader knowing that while they worry for member, member worries just as much over them and. idk, being brave for the people you care about and having it not automatically equal romance :')

(also mitski's one of my all-time fav artists so if u like this song u should check out her entire discography, her songs make me Feel Things, in like, the experiencing the human condition kinda way)

[putting the rest under a readmore bc i apparently have a lot to say OOPS]

okay next i'm gonna give you sweet time by porter robinson [cw: death mention]

and i feel so stupid / 'cause i wasn't scared of this before / but since i met you / i don't wanna die no more so take a long time / 'cause, oh, the world is lucky to be your home, i know / i need a next life / 'cause i'm not satisfied to know you just once / so take a long time

this makes me want to write some kind of reincarnation/reality-hopping au So Bad. just like, the idea of meeting someone and wanting to know everything about them, and not just the them of now, but every them that could and would have been. idk what the plot would actually be, but [member of choice] needs to find you in all these different realities for Reasons and in getting to know all these yous, comes to love all these different parts of you. sometimes it's romantic, sometimes it's platonic, but it's always with the same dedication

but yeah. "i need a next life, 'cause i'm not satisfied to know you just once" ughhhh. love this so much

(also another favorite artist of mine, specifically his album 'nurture'. listen to that shit on repeat so often lol)

okay lastly im gonna give you it happened quiet by aurora [cw: blood mention]

feathers falling out of the pillow / as if time is standing still / i can’t remember much more / but i know it happened quiet / so quiet you fell apart / like a stone can be broken into sand / a thousand pieces / spread across a crying land / and you can’t remember that day / but you know it happened quiet / so quiet / words falling out through the window / all that remains is a silent call / is the earth colored red? / as i land like a flower on the meadow are your dreams as dead as they seem? / don’t you speak over my voice / i will return from the shadows / and i’ll bleed in your bed / turn it red / like the ground outside your window / love is wild

i would love love LOVE to write a dark fairytale/fantasy fic for this, like!!! god, the vibe of this song feels like those stories that start off soft and fairytale-esque but by the end you realize it's actually a dark kind of warning and not a happily-ever-after.

so the basic idea i have would be something along the lines of: reader was once like, a forest guardian or something, and at one point a human came along and was like "let me live in ur forest pls" and they were skeptical but eventually let them as long as they didn't hurt the forest at all. so the human builds themself a little cottage in the clearing and doesn't hurt the forest and so reader lets themself start to get to know the human and oops! they end up falling in love (bad idea) and in a moment of vulnerability, the human attacks them, nearly kills them, and curses them so they can't protect their forest anymore. bc lo and behold, little human is actually a greedy bastard from the nearby kingdom wanting to take all the resources here.

fast forward a bit, and [member of choice] who has some magical abilities, starts getting really weird dreams about the forest on the other side of the kingdom. cue member being enlisted to help reader enact their revenge plot to save their forest (and also maybe reach some righteous havoc while they're at it) and they become best 'villain' bros the end :')

(once again, love aurora so much, i highly recommend checking out her discography haha)

send me a “🎧” and i’ll give you a non-kpop song i want to someday use as fic inspiration