#i've just had a lot going on but i will finish it eventually

[crunchystarz]

haiii I love your writing and esp your self aware au!

Do you think you can do one for your au with Riddle and mc where mc basically fusses over him (trying to do all the chores before and after work so he doesn’t have to even though he has nothing better to do, double checking for his needs/wants a lot) all the time like they’re trying desperately to keep a house plant alive even though he’s more than fine?? (If that makes ANY sense 😭)

thanks a bunch, take your time!🖤

Xo, Manny

"Take a break"

Self-aware!Riddle Rosehearts x GN!Reader

Cw- Reader honestly just overworking the self, fluff, oneshot

Word count: 1446

A/N: HII imma be so honest I hope I did this req right if not I beg your biggest pardon 🙂‍↔️(fancy voice), also while this is technically a yandere au this one is just Riddle getting reader prioritize their needs so, either way enjoy!

Riddle Rosehearts was always your favorite twisted wonderland character. Even so you never expected or could have prepared for him to not only gain Self-awareness but also become a real person.

Since he's started living with you, you felt the need to monitor him almost like a toddler. You're always cooking and cleaning for him , despite his constant protests. Yeah he can do everything himself he's fully capable but a part of you is so afraid that he'll break or something if you don't.

You would wake up early in the morning just to make sure everything was tidy and Riddle would have breakfast when he eventually woke from his slumber. You would always clean up after him even if he told you he was going to once he was finished.

You made sure he'd get sleep or drink enough water. Which would be fine if you yourself did the same. You're always so worried about if he's getting enough of something or if there was anything he wanted, yet when it came to you, you'd completely brush them off.

You stumbled through the door late at night. Riddle watched observantly from the couch, closing the book he was reading. His gray eyes followed you as you went to set the bags you held in your hands on the island surface.

“You're home rather late [Name] “ He spoke as he stood up, slowly making his way over to you. You just yawned and stretched out your stiff body. You could just feel his gaze on you.

“Yeah sorry they had me working late— yawn , you need anything? I could make you some dinner if you hadn't already or I could run you a bath” you responded trying to stay upbeat despite your clearly tired appearance.

Riddle shook his head. “No not at all you should sleep “ he spoke sternly, crossing his arms. You let out a tired giggle.

“Yeah yeah I will, after I finish cleaning up the kitchen — speaking of did you eat and drink today?”

The red head let out a sigh. You'd constantly worry about him, he was completely capable of taking care of himself, he wasn't a small child anymore and despite not being completely familiar with this world he wasn't stupid either.

“Yes, I did but from the looks of this you clearly haven't, ” You snickered a bit before shaking your head.

“Oh you worry too much, I've just had a busy night I'm fine” You replied, walking over to the other side of the island just to be stopped. You lazily tilted your head as Riddle held your wrist firmly.

“I already cleaned the kitchen while you were away” The house warden said, before gently guiding you away with a hand on your back.

“Great, I'll make us something to eat” you said, letting out a yawn. Riddle sighed before leaning you over to the couch.

“You shall do no such thing, now sit” He commanded, his voice stern. You blinked , but continued to sit anyway, not wanting to see what would happen if you didn't. The idea of him using his signature crosses your sleep deprived mind and it makes you shiver despite him ever using it on you since he got here.

“Riddle I'm fine I promise I just need to—”

“To what Collapse of exhaustion?” Riddle cut you off, his voice was pointed and full of authority. Much more serious than before “You're overworking yourself again, I'm more than capable of taking care of everything so just relax” he continued, expression softening at your tired state.

You groaned and laid back against the couch cushions. You felt a little guilty. He was the one teleported into a different world. You should be the one taking care of him and all his needs, not the other way around.

Riddle moved around the kitchen with ease. You watched as the red head got on his tippy toes to grab one of your mugs from the cabinets. You wanted to tell him you could do it for him but you just knew he'd protest. You slumped into the couch more.

He was quick to take the kettle off the stove once it started to hiss softly. He carefully poured the hot water into the cup. Riddle was observant and made sure to add just the right amount of sweetness. It had to be perfect. Once satisfied he set the tea down to go find the cookies he had made earlier.

He had a lot of time to spend when you were gone after all. He made his way way over to you, gray eyes watched as you perked up at the sight of the sweets.

“You didn't have to rea—”

“Don't start “ The house warden cut you off. He handed you the cup, carefully so you wouldn't burn your hands. He placed the cookies on the coffee table before sighing.

“You seriously work yourself to exhaustion and still proceeded to worry about me, it's foolish if you ask me” Riddle said, placing his hands on his hips. You looked down at the warm liquid in your mug thinking for the right words.

“It's just, I'm supposed to take care of you , I owe you that at least you know… “ you mumbled before taking a sip of the tea.

“You owe me nothing, I am not a child who needs to be protected, I am not fragile and neither are you however “ He pauses for a moment looking down at you. “You can become fragile if you do not upkeep yourself “

You opened your mouth to respond;to protest, but Riddle held up a hand to stop you.

“I am not ungrateful,” he spoke out, his voice softening yet still stern.“I appreciate everything you’ve done since I arrived here.You’ve given me a home, patience, and care that I could never have expected. But…” He hesitated, his gray eyes searching your face for a moment before he continued. “...You can’t give all of that to me at the expense of yourself.”

You blinked at him, a little stunned by the depth of his words. “Listen I’m not—”

“You are,” Riddle interrupted firmly, leaning slightly closer. “You work late, come home, and immediately worry about whether I’ve eaten or rested, yet you neglect your own needs. Do you think I don’t notice? I’ve seen you skipping meals, staying up far too late cleaning, and leaving your own tasks undone to take care of mine.”

You frowned, shifting uncomfortably under his gaze. If you could you'd sink into the couch cushions even more. “I know that, Riddle. I just… It feels like if I don’t do these things, I’m failing you somehow.”

His eyes widened for a second before shaking his head. “No, no how could you be failing me? If anything you're failing yourself”

You hesitated, your tongue poking at your cheek as you toyed with the mug in your hands. "I'm not failing myself," you tried weakly, though the exhaustion in your voice betrayed you. Riddle let out a long sigh, running a hand through his vibrant red hair.

“You are," he countered, his voice lowering. "And if you won't take the necessary steps to care for yourself, then I will ensure it happens."

Your breath caught in your throat "You don't have to do that, Riddle," you said, "You're supposed to be my guest, not my caretaker."

Riddle's lips twitched, his frown somehow deepened more for a split second. A look of…disappointment? "A guest? Is that how you still see me?"

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the question. "I mean… I guess. I don’t know how else to describe this situation. All I know is I don't want you to go back to being under that pressure like you did back at home”

His mind went blank for a second. He shook his head and cleared his throat. “[Name]” he started softly. You watched him as he looked away with red cheeks. After a moment he continued.

“Like I've stated before you've helped me in ways I couldn't imagine you don't need to push yourself just for my sake I can help I am a house warden after all, I care for you…a lot so do not tangle yourself in with my needs if you are not to take care of your own…please”

You wanted to protest but the words laid flat on your tongue. You could just nod in defeat as you rested your mug on the coffee table. Riddle smiled slightly before clearing his throat and putting back a stern face—blush still clear on his face.

“Good now I shall go run you a bath, then you shall get some much needed rest” The house warden said taking your now empty cup and plate into the kitchen.

When was the last time you felt cared for like this? All you knew was that it made your heart swell. Riddle Rosehearts was always your favorite..

MASTERLIST

[katuschka]

His Sugar-Dusted Skin – Part 1

Jake Kiszka x reader 5.639 words (Part 1)

So, After some consideration, I decided to split this one in two, because a) I promised to post it this weekend and it's not finished yet, and b) it might me too long. December's been a bit chaotic and as I said before, I've been struggling a bit with this one. So let me know what you think. Any feedback is much appreciated!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere.

Warnings (are spoilers): alcohol consumption and heavy intoxication, mentions of the death of a close person (retrospective), allusions to a potentially promiscuous behaviour, some strong language, the twins being assholes (kind of... they're still cute), Jake's happy trail, I think that's it for now...

Oh, life…

How ordinary and boring it can get when you stick to thinking that there aren’t any other options. As far as I remember, conformity never made sense to me. And as far as I remember, I was being raised and forced to embrace it. My mind surrendered for a while, but my vagrant soul just kept resisting. I never wanted to fit in. I always wanted to fly.

When I left home three years ago, I didn’t take much with me. My parents didn’t approve of my choices and the only person who would’ve supported me in my decisions was already gone. My beloved grandma. She was the disruptive force that kept me on my toes, always challenging me in the most loving way, knowing too well that it was exactly what I needed. She gave me my first guitar, too. Even though sclerosis made her homeward-bound, her dreams and fantasies always kept her wandering. I loved that. She was always there to spark my imagination and in return, I wanted to be her legs and eyes one day. When I was little, my friends used to call her fairy godmother. “Keep your sails up sweetheart, the wind is whimsical.” That’s what she used to say. “All you need is that air in your lungs and love in your heart.” 

“You must never leave me, oma,” I said to her once. “I need that love in my heart forever.”

“Someone else will fill it, darling,” she replied. “I’m only here to make sure it is open. But one day, you won’t need me anymore.”

When she died, I lost my only reason to stay there. The world was slowly getting to its feet again and it was my turn to do the same. I had dreams that simply couldn’t be fulfilled at home. My heart was aching for adventure. So I packed my bags, just like they sing in old songs, slung my guitar over my shoulder and hit the road. A vagabond chick. 

As I came to Tennessee, all I owned could fit in my barely drivable car: literally just a few dresses, my phone, my modest savings, my old six string, my treasured voice and THE recipe. Aaaah, those were the days…

Who am I kidding? It was pretty rough at first. VERY rough, to be honest. I cried many nights. But the one thing my parents had taught me was to save money, and that helped me survive the first months, when I waited tables during the day and sang my ass off after dark. 

Many people never make it. Hell, even though I’m an optimist, I have to admit that most don’t. If you’re not strong willed and immune to shit, you’re most certainly destined to fail. I’ve seen way too many extra talented and broken people on my journey, just because they were too nice or too naive. Well, I’m not naive, but I’m definitely not a cold bitch either. I think I just got lucky, because I had my guardian angel with me the whole time. When she was still walking on earth, she absolutely loved the Beatles, With a Little Help from My Friends being her favorite song. My childhood memories are filled with those songs and how she sang along, and I believe that it was her doing that eventually turned this tune into the soundtrack of my life. I met a lot of fantastic people on my arduous journey towards my goals and dreams, and that’s how I got by. 

As a token of my gratitude, I baked cookies for them. My grandma’s famous linzer cookies. THE recipe. Fast forward a few years, I still keep doing that at Christmas. Apart from the fact that my friends simply demand it, it’s also my way of keeping her alive, to make myself feel like she’s still here with me… in a way. 

Back home, the whole neighborhood loved her art of baking. Me being her only granddaughter, she literally forced me to learn how to bake those linzer cookies – her own recipe, to be precise. Every time I rolled my eyes, while making annoyed noises, blowing raspberries and just being a little asshole about it in general, she simply smiled and said that one day I’ll thank her. Why – I asked – and she responded that one day it would bring me love. “Love goes through the stomach, my dear. Look at your grandpa. See how huge it is?” And then he smiled and kissed her hair and it always made me believe her.

Except it didn’t happen. At least not yet. It – however – gave me a semblance of home that I consciously chose not to have, but sometimes missed. 

Just last year, I decided to continue with the tradition my grandma  started back at home. “Love is a reciprocal game, my dear,” she said. “You get what you give, but do not lose yourself in giving.” 

They want my sweets? Fine! But let them show me how much. They have to “earn” it. At the beginning of December, I give my friends custom-made Christmas greetings, and if they want to receive their own little box of cookies, they have to send back a card of their own making. The first time was a success, and I ended up baking sweets for eleven people. And it didn’t stop there, as it earned me nine bottles of wine, a flacon of my favorite perfume and  a ukulele. All I really wanted was a thank you, but hey! I won’t say no to wine! So I decided to do it again, and this time I received seventeen cards, including three “masterpieces” from the members of the infamous Greta Van Fleet! Yeah, that’s right. While I still feel like I’m barely making it sometimes, I move in high-ish circles. El-oh-el. 

I met Daniel first, through a mutual friend, at one of the music clubs we frequented. He was actually one of the eleven buddies that helped me restart this Christmas tradition. Later I learned that he selflessly shared his portion with the rest of the group during a rehearsal he went to right after he dropped by at my place, and that’s how I got invited to one of their semi-private dinners. Dan kindly introduced me as “Joni”, which earned me two “woos” and one ironic smirk. To be fair, I didn’t like it either. It actually made me cringe, because the woman is an unattainable role model, but it was just Daniel being himself, aka the nice guy. Bless his soul. 

I went from an acquaintance with useful skills to a drinking buddy, because I’m good at that too. One of my less admirable strengths, but there are times when it comes in handy. Especially when a Johnny Depp wannabe from Middle-earth wants to outsmart you…

A year flew by and it was time to extend my offer to Sam and Josh, who made sure I wouldn’t forget them. Don’t ask me how. The video they sent me definitely had the potential to go viral. I wholeheartedly appreciate how much they trust me not to do that. 

They wouldn’t stop there, though. I had to laugh when I received their own precious hand drawn contributions. How sweet. They’re all so sweet actually… well, all except Jake. Aloof, taciturn and arrogant, that’s how he rolls. I’m pretty sure he just can’t stand me, because while he often laughs with others, he only ever laughs at me. His opinion on my baking goes hand in hand with what he thinks about my playing, preferring darker and more spicy shit, as he once put it. Well, whatever. He’s a colossal prick. 

It’s quite unfortunate that I’ve also had a colossal crush on him for quite some time now. As I said, I’m a vagabond chick, and he happens to possess all the right shit to lure me. Like a moth to a flame. And I got burned. 

See, oma? Not working. 

Well, I’m not the one to cry over guys, so I’m not going to lose my sleep over that. He can go fuck himself. (Someone else can do it. I swear he needs it.). 

Seventeen packages meant I was going to spend most of the Friday evening as well as the whole Saturday slaving in my kitchen. Thankfully, I really do enjoy doing this, so it’s simply an essential part of Christmas festivities. A good time spent with me, myself and Ella Fitzgerald. It’s still quite a lot of work though. 

Friday was just about making dough. It might seem easy, but you need to understand that in order to make enough cookies for 17 (!) people, I needed more than 5 lbs of flour, 3 lbs of butter, nearly 24 ounces of sugar, 23 egg yolks and zest from 6 lemons! I will say no more to protect the family secret, but you can see it takes a lot of effort just to put this all together. I take this very seriously. I don’t want to disappoint anyone. 

It had to be perfect. 

But alas! I couldn’t have known that one malicious and horny sprite who wanted me to spoil him with my art of baking was also going to sabotage my efforts in the most peculiar way. 

Once finished, I covered the dough with plastic wrap and put it in the fridge to let it rest overnight before I hopped in the shower to wash off the sweaty sugar crust that seemed to stick to every inch of my exposed skin. It was almost midnight when I finally managed to climb in bed, pleasantly exhausted and happy, only to be woken up by a frantic doorbell noise at around two am. A normal person would just freak out in such a situation, but knowing who that might be, I was already pretty much used to it as I lived nearest to their favorite bar. Our favorite bar, to be precise. 

Over time, they came to an agreement that my tiny apartment was a perfect place for nightcaps, the only problem being that the Kiszkas were usually quite loud about it, completely ignoring the fact that I had neighbors. Thankfully, this part of town is a bit specific in a sense that the said neighbors simply didn’t give a shit, with their own lifestyle not being much different. 

This is what I wanted. Friends, late night laughs, my life filled with music and hugs and kisses and peculiar outcomes of unpredictable events that could only lead to more hugs and kisses. 

There was this one time when Josh fell asleep on my couch while the others simply sneaked away giggling and left him there, spread-eagled and snoring his uvula off. Several hours later, I was woken up by the delicious smell of buttermilk waffles, served with maple syrup and a guilty, puppy dog stare. 

Simply put, they were (almost) always welcome here. Almost…

Sober, sleepy and disoriented, I was definitely in no mood for a late night party (or an early morning one… seriously Josh, wtf!), with all the baking lying ahead of me. I didn’t even have to guess if it was really them; I could already hear them the moment my heart calmed down a bit and I stepped out of my bedroom. Determined to chase them away with a rolling pin, I answered the door angrily and was nearly knocked down by the falling Oliver Reed who obviously decided to lean against it the very moment I yanked it open. 

It’s always intrigued me how the brain works in these situations, working so fast that the time seems to slow down to an almost comical pace. I watched in slow motion how his back slid against the wood, his arms flapping in the air in a futile attempt to regain balance. I could tell at the first fleeting glance that he wasn’t fit to keep his balance standing, let alone falling, so no wonder it was a completely lost cause. Some voice at the back of my skull tried to tell me to jump aside, but I was too mesmerized by the sight. Just when his shoulder hit me clumsily in the chest and I stumbled backwards, Josh finally managed to grab Jake’s arms to keep him from knocking me down completely. My rolling pin fell on the wooden floor with a loud bang that made my neighbor’s dog bark. Jake, now aggressively pinned against the corridor wall by Josh, only added to the ear-piercing nocturnal cacophony with his loud howls: “Whoa whooooa!” 

“Shhh, shut the fuck up, Jake!” Josh hissed through his teeth before he turned his concerned stare back at me. “Y/N, sweetheart, terribly sorry hun! Didn’t mean too…” I could tell that he was tipsy as well, but it paled in comparison with the state Jake was in. I had seen him drunk many times before, with his glossy, beady eyes and unfocused stare that always made him look a bit like a teddy bear. This was new, though. He seemed absolutely plastered. 

Out of the imminent danger, but with my heart still wildly pumping adrenaline-enriched blood into my veins, I grabbed the doorframe first to support myself before I tried to make sense of what was just happening in front of me. 

They weren’t alone. Right behind Josh stood a guy whom I had seen a few times before, but I couldn’t recall his name. He looked slightly uncomfortable. “What the fuck, Josh!?!” I hissed. 

Josh immediately tried to win me over with the most sheepish smile he could muster, but his involuntarily cocked eyebrow betrayed him, which only made me more furious. “Dearest Y/N, we need your help, baby!” 

“With what? I asked incredulously. 

“I need you to take care of my asshole brother, pretty pleeeease.” 

“You what?” I goggled at him, completely taken aback by his impudent request. “Why can’t you just take him home?” Much to Jake’s annoyance, we kept discussing him and his imminent future as if he wasn’t even there, which only resulted in another outburst of his loud and incoherent babbling and our collective attempt to shush him before Josh answered.

“Because, I am not planning on going home, honey,” he whisper-shouted, hoping that I would just get it without him having to be too obvious. Yeah, I got it. It didn’t mean I was willing to help him. I looked at the guy again, who suddenly pretended to be very interested in the hallway lights. At that moment, the owner of the barking dog opened his own door to passionately inform us what we all were. I had no other choice than to hastily usher them all in.

“You can’t leave him here just like that? Are you out of your mind? Is this some kind of retribution for what he did the last time? Because it’s not funny. This is my home, and not a fucking sobering center! Just call him an uber,” I continued to protest once we were all safely inside my apartment, and that’s when Jake chimed in for the first time with something that made at least a bit of sense: “Yeah, ah-don’ wanna…,” he hiccupped before he could finish the sentence, making me even more incensed with the whole situation. He quickly tried to amend it, but it was too late. I was seething, my nostrils flaring. “...bother-er. Ah-don’ wanna bother-er! She’s…fierssshe!” he spat in Josh’s face, making him scrunch his face in disgust. 

“Well, you should have thought about not bothering people before you got so shitfaced,” Josh spat back, completely ignoring what I just said. “This is your doing.”

What? I shot a deadly stare at Josh. No, it was absolutely not Jake’s doing that they were now standing in my living room. And regardless of the fact that I had work to do – and he knew that – he also knew how I felt about Jake, and was now putting me in a very uncomfortable position. “Out! All of you!” 

I’m pretty sure I must have looked like Wrath personified, because Jake whoa’ed again and Josh seemed to finally acknowledge his misconduct. He grabbed my hands in his, suddenly looking like a meek puppy. “I’m sorry, babe. Don’t be mad, hun. I know this is too much to ask, but do this for a friend. I beg you…”

“No, I beg you Josh!” I tried to sound as calm and collected as possible through my gritted teeth, knowing that being just mad would get me nowhere. Josh was too stubborn to ever acknowledge someone else’s anger and boundaries meant nothing to him once you became his friend, which basically meant family. However, he was empathetic. “You know I have a lot of baking to do tomorrow. I’m tired. Just please, take him home.”

Josh bit his lip and he looked like he was trying to say something and NOT say it at the same time. It was late and I felt awfully tired, but the whole thing seemed a bit fishy to me. Just when Josh nodded and finally opened his mouth to respond, Jake grabbed his shoulder. “Ah need to pee, Jawshy boy,” he whined and swayed dangerously, pouting his lips at his twin brother. He was already in his teddy bear phase which meant that he indeed wasn’t fit to be sent home alone in an uber. He’d be knocked out in no time, and even if Josh went with him, he’d have a hard time just getting him out of the car. 

Josh glanced sideways at the guy, who had been pretending to be invisible the whole time, and then looked at me pleadingly again. I capitulated. “OK, take that big baby to the bathroom and I’ll fetch some blankets,” I sighed. 

Together, they helped Jake get comfy on the couch and he fell asleep before his head even touched the pillow. And me? I felt relieved when I finally closed the door behind them and everything became quiet again, disturbed only by Jake’s light snoring.

They were taking their time, so once I fixed the makeshift bed, it was just me and the guy standing in the middle of the room, waiting, and it was getting increasingly awkward with each passing second. “So, you’re Y/N,” he finally spoke.

“Yeah,” I answered curtly, confirming the obvious. “We’ve met.”

“But we weren’t properly introduced yet. I’m Martin.” I shook Martin’s hand politely without really wanting to, because I knew that if they were heading to his place instead of Josh’s, it probably meant that the chances I’d see Martin again were quite low. Yet another reason for me being annoyed. 

I poured him a large glass of water, squeezed some fresh lemon juice into it and placed it carefully on a small table right next to his head before I switched off the light, leaving just a small table lamp on, and went back to my bed, hoping to spend the rest of the night in peace and get some much needed rest. 

However, the fact that there was Jacob Kiszka, Sir, lying unconscious on my couch right outside my bedroom door, made it a bit difficult to fall back to sleep. I had never been in a situation like this and it made me feel unpleasantly agitated. I wasn’t afraid of him. I just didn’t trust my own feelings. 

I should have been angry. 

But I was not. Not exactly. Not anymore. My heart wasn’t beating wildly out of annoyance. Instead, I felt like a schoolgirl, trapped in an elevator with that annoying boy from music class who was also her crush. There were many conflicting feelings inside both my head and chest; and knowing that he probably wouldn’t remember how he ended up on my couch come morning only made it all worse. 

I finally dozed off, but morning came sooner than I wished it would, and with it a headache. It felt like just a brief moment, filled with restless dreams about me and Jake dancing on the rooftop to Golden Slumbers playing out of nowhere, with sugar snowing down at us and our hands sticky with jam. Then he smeared some on my cheek and peppered it with kisses…

When I opened my eyes, the feeling still lingered, like powdered sugar on the top of my tongue. Soft and weightless like snowflakes, yet it lay heavily on my chest. Together with the lack of rest, it made me feel almost hungover-ish. I lied unmoving for a while, listening to the silence that surrounded me and wondering whether he was still there. Maybe he already woke up earlier and quickly sneaked out after realizing where he was. 

It was unlikely, but I could hardly ever control these self-deprecating thoughts. Especially regarding men. I cursed Josh once again and decided to take a quick cold shower to wake up my senses.

It helped only just a bit. Refreshed, I opened my bedroom door carefully and peaked inside the living room. He was still there, and fast asleep. Slowly, I creeped up on him on my tiptoes, and then spent several long seconds just watching him sleep, before I started to feel like a complete lunatic. But… he looked so peaceful and almost angelic in the milky morning light, lying on his side with his hands folded under his chin, his lips parted and brows relaxed. The glass was empty, and I couldn’t help but smile involuntarily. Once there was a way to get back homeward…

Then I remembered that this was no domestic idyl. I just had a drunk rock guitarist on my couch, and – let’s be brutally honest here – once I got past that dreamy visual illusion, a strong olfactory reminder of this much more prosaic reality hit my nostrils. 

I also had several large chunks of dough in the fridge and a debilitating headache that almost made me question all my life choices.

No, it didn’t.

But all those things had to be taken care of and I had no idea how. I tried to be as quiet as a mouse at first, but after realizing that it could take at least a couple more hours before he’d wake up, maybe even half a day – the time that I couldn’t afford to waste – I took Josh’s previous advice and decided to just ignore him. 

I really needed coffee… to get the stupid dream, and the song, and all my delusions out of my head. Did I forget that he was also a big-headed asshole? Yeah, that’s the spirit. 

It turned out that my worries were groundless anyway. I could make as much noise as possible in my adjacent kitchenette and he wouldn’t even stir. The motherfucker really seemed to be losing his hearing from standing in front of those huge amplifiers and the malicious creature inside my chest chuckled at the thought. 

I took the dough out of the fridge and let it soften at room temperature while I made myself some coffee and started to get everything ready. Clanking of baking sheets, coffee grinder, squeaking cabinet doors…nothing seemed to disturb my sleeping beauty. I kept casting wary glances at him every now and then at first, but soon I got accustomed to the unusual situation and just immersed myself in my work. 

I had my very elaborate system. I could fit twenty cut pieces – meaning ten cookies – on one sheet, there was roughly enough dough for approximately thirty sheets, it takes ten minutes to bake AND I had only four sheets. You can see I had to be very systematic. Preparation is the key and every minor disturbance could be disastrous. Thankfully, I’m a master multitasker. Still, I prayed to all the known and yet to be made-up deities that nothing would happen. No more surprises, please and thank you. 

A few hours passed and the delicious aroma of lemon and vanilla started to fill the room. I was also sweating like a pig, rolling and cutting the dough in haste, always making sure I had enough sheets ready so that there would be no idle time. Focused on the task ahead, I didn’t hear him stir, and my heart jumped in my throat when I finally looked up and saw those beady eyes watching me intently. 

I tried to keep my cool, looking down again quickly. “Well, good morning,” I mumbled. It was almost midday. 

“Morning, Y/N…,” he choked out huskily and finally tried to stand up, which only resulted in him groaning in pain and slumping back immediately. Oh yeah, consequences…

“Do you remember how you got here?” I asked tentatively. 

“I wish I could say I do, but to be honest, I’ve no idea,” he breathed out with his eyes closed. “I was just hanging out with Josh and the next thing I know I’m lying on your couch at blue hour, feeling half dead.” He finally opened at least one eye, just enough to be able to see me.

I nodded and continued cutting the dough. I wasn’t going to make it any easier for him. The timer just chimed and I had to switch the sheets anyway. 

“So?” 

Did I just hear annoyance and impatience in his voice? Oh yeah, a hungover asshole is still an asshole. It shouldn’t have surprised me. “What?” I spat back over my shoulder.

“Care to explain what the fuck I’m doing here?” 

I don’t understand how he always managed to just smash all my buttons with one single blow, and once again he made me see red. I literally threw the next sheet in the oven and slammed the door shut with a loud bang before I turned around and lashed out at him. 

“Oh I wish I knew the answer. Be so kind and ask your precious brother who literally just pushed you through my door in the middle of the night, half-conscious and reeking of whisky, because he wanted to get laid. You’re welcome! Fucker…”

He blinked a few times, obviously taken aback. 

“I’m sorry Y/N.” The tone of his voice changed and for a split second I almost regretted my curtness. Almost. “Just let me call an uber and I’ll be out of here in no time,” he mumbled, checking his pocket, while I watched him struggle with secret satisfaction. That headache must have been hellish. Good. At least I wasn’t the only one. 

He suddenly frowned and started rummaging in all his pockets frantically, including the jacket haphazardly thrown over the armrest. “Where the hell is my phone… and my valet… and my fucking keys. Y/N…did you take my stuff?” 

“What? No! The last thing I’d wanna do would be to prevent you from leaving.”

We were watching each other warily, both equally confused. Then it dawned on him. “I’m gonna kill that scrawny little bastard!” Straightening up, he closed his eyes and tried to take a deep breath in a futile attempt to fight off his growing nausea as well as the rage that made his nostrils flare. 

My anger dissipated in an instant… or, to be more precise, it was instantly redirected towards his twin. “I don’t understand. Why would he do that? He knows how busy I am today,” I whined. 

Jake didn’t respond. Instead, he asked for my phone. I quickly dialed Josh’s number and handed it to Jake, because the timer chimed again. 

It went straight to voicemail. 

As I was stacking freshly baked pieces on a tray placed on the small kitchen island which also served as my dining table, Jake leaned against it right opposite to me, looking absolutely miserable. “What now?” 

Am I their mother or what? I couldn’t drive him, but even if I did, he still didn’t have his keys. I couldn’t even call him an uber to Josh’s, because I knew that scrawny little bastard wasn’t there. It became obvious that Jake was stuck with me for at least another couple hours. He kept watching, obviously still waiting for me to say something, but I didn’t answer. Instead, I just sighed and grabbed the rolling pin again, aggravated with both of them and feeling like their hostage, stuck in the middle of their infantile games. The time was ticking, with my perfectly planned schedule already disrupted.

“Let me at least help you,” he looked at me hopefully with those puppy eyes they both shared. Fuckers. Seriously. Quirks of the mischievous nature that at one point decided that one of them wasn’t enough. 

“I think you should take a shower first.”

It was a deliberate jab, and I expected him to retort back just like he always did. I did NOT expect him to widen his eyes in genuine horror. “Is it that bad?” 

I didn’t dare answer that question but my face betrayed me when I looked at him sideways and bit my lip. He grabbed the collar of his shirt and took one tentative whiff. “Oh my god, it is. I think I need more than a shower, actually. I smell as if I slept in a puddle of beer.” 

I immediately regretted that I let him sleep on my couch, but he looked completely bashful and embarrassed and my previous unwillingness to continue helping him was already in shambles.

“Ok,” I sighed and put down the cookie cutter. “Come with me. I have some spare sweatpants. Thankfully, my ass is just as big as yours, but it might be a bit too tight around the waist…”

“Excuse me?” he protested, but otherwise obediently followed me into my bedroom. 

“You’re right. My mistake. Yours is bigger,” I chuckled at my own joke while rummaging in my drawer, before throwing him a pair of my favorite grey sweatpants, an old, oversize flannel shirt and a clean towel. “Everything else you might need is in the bathroom. The washing machine’s down in the basement.” 

“Thank you. Uummm…do you, perhaps, have a spare toothbrush? For friends... and such?” He smiled cheekily, testing my patience once again. But to be fair, he couldn’t have known that there was a shortage of “and such” people ever since I met him, because I just wasn’t interested in anyone else for a while now. 

“Yeah, there’s a couple of them in the purple cabi… oh fuck!” I quickly excused myself, alarmed by the smell of something burning, because I forgot to set the timer…

Too busy trying to stave off the impending disaster in my kitchen, I barely noticed him sneaking around me on his way down to the basement. So, when he knocked on the door a moment later and I answered it, the sight in front of me threw me completely off-guard. Being no stranger to Jake’s exposed chest, there was a strange sense of novelty in seeing him in my own unbuttoned shirt. Paul started singing inside my head again, but only until my eyes involuntarily slid further down, putting the song to an abrupt stop, just like a torn magnetic tape.

I was right about the waist being too tight, which meant he had it pulled down well below his navel, and seeing his happy trail made me scream internally. 

And to top it all off, he still had the towel wrapped around his head. 

I was not prepared for the feral reaction he suddenly elicited deep inside my body, and I’m sure he noticed, judging by the cocky half-smile that followed. I quickly turned away before I would compromise myself further. 

“I made you some coffee,” I nodded towards the steaming cup waiting for him on the counter, while still not daring to look directly at him again. “... and there are some popsicles in the freezer.”

“Thank yo… popsicles?!?” I might as well have suggested cotton candy, judging by the look he gave me, making me feel like an idiot,  so I quickly explained: “Yeah, they’re perfect when you wanna get rid of a hangover. Orange’s my favorite.” I still felt like an idiot. 

“I’m feeling better now.” His tone was kind and friendly, for which I was grateful, and I could hear him smiling, with my eyes still fixed on the small yellow circles in front of me. “I think I’m getting a bit hungry, though.”

“I’m not cooking anything now, Jake!” I placed the last little yellow circle on the sheet with care, before I started kneading another chunk of dough frantically.

“No, I didn’t mea…”

“There’s instant ramen on the top shelf.”

“Jesus Christ.” 

“Yeah, whatever.”

“What are YOU going to eat, Y/N?”

“I don’t have time for such luxuries right now…”

“Y/N!” He was leaning against the counter desk right in front of me again. I hadn’t even noticed him sneaking so close again, so his sudden exclamation made me jump. “You have to eat something. Look, your hands are shaking.” 

Yeah, no shit. But I’m not exactly hungry. There was a huge lump in my stomach, making it quite full. I was getting lost in the sea of my conflicting feelings again when all of the sudden, he put an abrupt stop to it like a fierce wave that sent me crashing on the shore, as he lifted my chin up gently with his index and middle finger. “Look at me, Y/N. I am going to fix us a quick lunch, ok?” 

“Ok…,” I peeped meekly. 

Jake just nodded, bound his damp, uncombed hair in a makeshift low bun with the band he always wore on one his fingers just in case, and started rummaging in my fridge. “Allrighty then! What do we have here…,” he crooned cheerfully.

And just like that, Paul was back… lalalalala.

To be continued...

@thewritingbeforesunrise @fleet-of-fiction @writingcold @lvnterninthenight @its-interesting-van-kleep   @takenbythemadness   @edgingthedarkness @myownparadise96 @gvfstuddedmajesty @jazzyfigz @sanguinebats @josh-iamyour-mama @lyndz2names @wetkleenex-gvf @peaceloveunitygvf @cheersdannyx2 @fleetingjake @lizzys-sunflower @emojakekiszka @gvfmarge @Dayumclarizzel @lipstickittty @clownstarr @gretasfallingsky @musicislove3389 @i-love-gvf @psychedelectable @allof--mylove @sacredsparrow @hearts-hunger

[golyadkin]

favourite part of drawing these comics is and always will be putting the little highlight dot on Billy's nose

[skrunksthatwunk]

household enemy to the yyh watchthrough number one is the olympics. it's taken us a week to get two episodes into the gamemaster fight

[quietlyblooms]

a.tsv is mentioned and instantly the brainworms start wriggling

[kanene-yaaay]

Hmmm life sucks so u know what that means

Time for the FLUFFIEST HURT/COMFORT hidden in my bookmarks

[reshinless]

Imagine

Kinich with

With a breeding kink

Imagine him not allowed to finish inside at the beginning, but gods does he beg to

Eventually reader gives in and allows him to

Hhhhhhhhes so jekfmekdkfke😞

──── i wanna see some!!

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ synopsis. baby fever & kinich (i cant think of anything aesthetic)

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ pairings. kinich x gn!afab!reader !!NSFW CONTENT AHEAD!!

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ director's notice. thank you all again for 1k, i might be a bit slow with posts since projects are going crazy at class rn sob

kinich who has to plead and beg to cum inside of you. even if it is in the heat of the moment; there's no shame in asking, you are his partner after all.

after a few times where stress gets to you and you both wanna relieve it (sex)- you might as well indulge into the activity, right?

but after a few more tries, you can sense how tempted your lover was to keep your hips attached to his before he came, literally having to ask you with that oh-so-whiny voice.

"ah- pretty, please- ahhn- fffuck let me cum in you- need it s'bad." you felt bad hearing how desperate he was, but no no no you both had lives outside of this. it could be a lot of hassle. jokes on you though because he already has baby names planned out for them ^_^

so in love with the way your hole just takes him so good he can't help but ask more and more, it'd be an honor to orgasm with you anyway, he wouldn't have it any other way.

kinich who already had your legs hoisted up on his shoulder, his gloved grip strong against the plush of your thighs, archons was he hot. "p- please.. c'mon i've been treating you real nice, right? let me breed you." he whispered into your ear as he leaned forward.

ever since he saw you with mualani's baby niece in your arms, cooing to her like how any parent would. making the small child in your arms smile, and giggle at your peekaboo attempts, or how you tickled her with a sense of gentleness.

what would your kids with him look like? shit he could already imagine.. his black-blue hair and your (e/c) colored eyes. or what if they had your hair, and his eyes? or maybe they'd be your little carbon copy, and take after their dad for personality. his mind hasn't stopped ever since seeing the situation unfold in front of him.

but when you finally let him, of course he has to build up the best orgasm for you both to share! fitting his head into the crook of your neck; "what do you think our kids would look like? or act like?" it felt like the more he talked, the faster he went. "mmph.. maybe i jus' wanna see you with a round belly. jus' wanna see you bearing our child."

he could already imagine life after you've given birth, what would he name them if it were to be a girl, or perhaps a boy? maybe a mixture of both of your names? or let you decide?

"ahh- u- uhuh? you like the way i thrust into you, right? i'd hate for you to be uncomfortable." he hummed as he continued drilling his cock into you. your hole was already so wet from the previous foreplay beforehand, well of course when you let him cum inside, he'll want a taste of your pussy before it's alllll gone!

he'll still ask you if he could kiss you right after. he wants to make what'll happen now special for you and him to look back onto in the future. laughing or not at the past, he'll make sureit's memorable..

of course by the evident, and growing bulge in your tummy. oh fffuck you could feel it coming already-

"d- don't cum yet, p- pretty. w'na do it together." he mumbles out, barely being able to control himself, he placed one of your stray palms onto the mark on your stomach. "you feel me inside you?"

you couldn't help but let out a loud moan, throwing your head back before he quickly pulls your hair to look back at him.

"don't look anywhere else, pretty, i wanna see the way you look when i make you cream on my dick while i cum too. okay?"

you could hear the loud sound of his shaft slapping against you loudly in the stray hallways of the outside lobby of the hotel you both stayed in- previously on a mission.

even what felt like the fifteenth time you've came on his cock again, it just seemed like it only throbbed, continuously hard throughout all your climaxes. each dominant vein on his cock you could feel, the way his grip tightened around your waist as he took the gloves on his hands with his mouth to make sure not to waste a drop.

"mmf- k- kin i'm g'na-" you try to close your thighs, but to no avail, as kinich's palm, previously on your hair, moves swiftly to keep them open. "i know y'can take me baby, don't worry."

kinich who wrapped a possessive arm around you as you came, holding your waist close to his as you came. as his warm load shot up inside you, letting you arch your back all you wanted on the base of his cock. your arms instinctively rang around his neck, still shaking, trembling almost from coming with him.

he slowly let you lay down on the comfort of the pillows.

he leans down next to you, his fingers still keeping themselves inside your hole.

"not a drop wasted, 'kay?"

he couldn't wait 'till the day came that he'd be able to see kids of both your descents-

"what's with all the-" ajaw's jaw drops at the scene of you cuddling, and kinich hand still inside your hole.

"..." "..YOU ARE DISGUSTING!!"

i kind of ran out mid way for ideas, so sorry if this isn't what you were looking for sob

[ram-bles]

Hello! Is it okay if you can write mouthwashing headcannons of how the crew members would react to the reader randomly attacking them with kisses? If you want to stick with one person, then I was thinking, Anya? (If you want someone else, then that's okay too!)

Have a great day/afternoon/night

tulpar crew x gn!reader

smooch attack headcanons.

⚠️ pushy jimmy. everything else is chill. not proof read.

[note: sorry I've been out for long everyone! I had some stuff come up but I'm doing some progress on the things you guys send! I hope you enjoy these imagines]

[ Anya ]

🟦 giggling mess if done right

🟦 if you do it, please don't jump her.

🟦 sth like swooping in first before kissing her. small signals that it's you.

Her eyes were glued onto the shelf, searching for that one book she needed. It was usually there. Did I misplace it? Her thoughts were immediately silenced by a hand taking hers, swift yet carefully. Her body tensed up by instinct but when she realized it was you, it had her giggling as you planted soft kisses on her knuckles. You raise the book that you hid from your back while you entered. "Sorry! I was reading it earlier." "I don't mind at all, don't worry." Anya shakes her head with a smile and cups your cheek and you beam. That was one of the small signals she gave that says she's fine with this. She brushes your cheek for a moment as you lean into her touch, then you feel her carefully tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear. You immediately wrap your arms around her waist and lean in for a kiss- kisses. Lots of them. You start off on her cheek, then her nose, her eyelids, her forehead, then a peck to her lips and she was softly laughing the whole time, both from the affection and how ticklish it was.

[ Curly ]

🩹 Not a fan of PDA either. you gotta do it when you both get privacy.

🩹 So you do it with every chance you get.

You spot Jimmy lingering back at the lounge without your beloved Captain? You're beelining towards the cockpit. Alone in the kitchen? You're on him. Hallways? Oh, Captai—in! Even if he scolds and chastises you for it, he loves it. He does the same anyways. One time though, you were both in the lounge reading together when you eventually got bored. You peek at your partner who was heavily invested at the article when suddenly the item gets pushed away and replaced by you on his lap. Before he could even warn you, you grabbed his face and showered him with kisses. Curly gives in and hugs you, it should be alright since no one's here, right? He'll let it slide for now. When you part, he had a stupid grin on his face. "Darling, have I ever taught you how to aim?" With a chuckle, you shake your head and you both lean in for a kiss. "How does a lesson tonight in your quarters sound, Captain?" "Perhaps we could reschedule for an earlier time. How does right now sound?" "Perfect."

[ Daisuke ]

🌺 Usually, it's him who does the guerilla attacks. It's a little game you guys play. The more of a surprise kiss streak you have, the better.

🌺 So far he's on the lead, but not for long.

You had to borrow Anya's lipstick for this. Carefully planned this siege (it only took like 10 minutes). Daisuke had just finished doing inventory, Swansea's back in utility and you're by the storage closet by the hallway and you hear familiar footsteps. In approximately 5.0224 seconds, your target is going to pass by the said storage room aka your location right now. You brace for it, nervous. You push your doubts that it was another person for now and just go for it. Slamming your partner onto the wall as he squeals, you shut the door and yank on the string to turn the light on. It was dim but you could see the look on his face and you burst out laughing. "Dude, I thought we had some psycho hiding up in here! I thought I was gonna die!" "Yeah, you will." "Fuck you mean by tha— mpFfF?!" Your lips smash against his and you could tell some of the lipstick smeared. His awkward tense pose loosens up and his hands move away from the walls to your hips as he returns it and you part as he tries not to chase after you. "Got ya' good, huh?" "Whaaaaat?" He drawls out with a voice crack, looking away. "I don't know man, you gotta do that again so we can find out." With a pffsh, you start kissing him everywhere, his beauty marks, his lips, cheeks, jaw, neck, probably even on his collar. Next thing you know, you both pop out the storage room, Swansea looking like he almost had a heart attack while he stares at the both of you in judgement. Daisuke had a lovestruck expression while his face, neck, and shirt collars were filled with lipstick marks and yours were smudged on your lips.

[ Jimmy ]

🔪 he hates it. he likes it so much he hates it.

🔪 prefers doing it himself though.

Shitty day as always. He wasn't in the mood and he can't bother you which made his day a whole lot worse. It's stupid, why was he so dependent over your attention. It should be the other way around. Once you were done with your shift, you decided to find the co-pilot. At his usual thinking spot, chewing on a toothpick. God, he needs his nicotine. You were silent, only walking towards his way, too busy with his thoughts to even notice you. Not until you plant a kiss on his cheek and his head whips to your direction, almost bumping heads. You smile and peck his lips this time. "You okay?" Were you pitying him? "Fuckin' peachy." Suddenly, you were pressed up against the wall, caged in-between his arms and you look up at him confused. He flicks the toothpick somewhere and he starts peppering your face with kisses. It was all soft at first, not until he nips at your lip before kissing you roughly. Your lips would probably bruise later on.

[ Swansea ]

🦢 this can be interpreted as romantic/familial honestly

🦢 he seems annoyed by it but in reality, he thinks it's sweet. never admitting it though.

Wake rock was softly playing in the background. You were busy cleaning up in the utility room while Swansea was repairing some wires when he suddenly flinches and cusses loudly, shaking his hand. He got grounded. Now he's grumbling over where Daisuke was when he needed him to do the work. Probably needed to release his frustrations elsewhere by light-heartedly shit talking his intern. You knew he didn't mean it. Tilting your head curiously, you moved closer, peeking over his shoulder to watch him work for a moment. And just when he moves his hands away from the box, you hug him from the side and kiss his cheek repeatedly. "Jesus! Warn a man will ya'?!" "I'm done cleaning! I'll go on break now, boss!" "Yeah, yeah." He huffs. Unbeknownst to you, he had a small smile on his face as he continued working. Seriously, who does this to their mentor? Kids these days.

[getthehexstrap]

Hands Off.

Jinx x brothel worker!(fem)reader

i just know she would listen to them okay.

summary: jinx decides to stop by the brothel her girlfriend works at as a surprise one night, who would've guessed it would've become her usual spot after this.

genre: smut.

warnings: jealous/possessive jinx, mentions of touchy men (ew), reader is not a prostitute, reader may or may not be zauns version of a stripper though, use of nicknames (baby, pretty girl, toots), semi public sex, fingering, lots of dirty talk, use of a mechanical finger (sorry. no i'm not), kinda mean!jinx, bottom reader, begging, hair pulling, marking, little bit aftercare

a/n: first post! it's been a while since i've written im a little rusty, sorry! this one's kinda a long one, enjoy <3 (side note my requests are open, feel free to ask for fic ideas i'm always open to them!)

not proofread, sorry for any typos

MDNI

Music echoed off the walls of the bar. Tables were full, the sounds of scattered chatter could be heard briefly. It was a Friday night, second busiest night of the week, and you'd been here since 8 earlier that night. It was now 11.

You were currently waiting tables with a tight two piece snug on your body; blue, of course. It was your way of silently announcing her claim on you, though she was never there to see it, it made you feel better.

Jinx knew what you did, she didn't really care too much. She knew you were hers, and she trusted you enough to remember that as well, which you did. She usually doesn't get to visit you at work, seeing as how she's usually busy building something or kicking someone's ass. Tonight though, she had no plans, and she wanted to take advantage of that.

You were set to go on in exactly 5 minutes. Taking the time you had to go back to your dressing room and touch up your makeup, adjust clothes (or lack there of) as needed. A knock sounded on the door, letting you know it was time.

You had no clue Jinx was coming so you didn't look for her, but she was there. Sitting towards the back, lips slightly parted as she saw you walk out. As the music hit, you pushed your hair back one last time before grabbing the pole in the middle of the stage.

Wrapping your fingers around the cold metal, you leaned your head back, allowing yourself to lift off the ground as you spun. Whistles and claps sounded through the area almost instantly as they usually did. These fools will clap for anything.

Continuing, your hands let go of the pole, spinning around as your fingers danced across your torso and through your hair. It was then, as you were practically upside down, you saw her. A smile immediately rested on your lips. You lifted yourself up, kicking a leg out and doing a another spin with only one leg.

Eventually, the song came to an end and you let yourself down, catching your breath. Usually, you'd just walk backstage but this time, she was here. You excitedly ran over to her, unable to control your smile now. You hadn't seen her since this morning when she left and you originally thought you wouldn't see her until tomorrow.

Jinx retured the grin, standing up with a hand on her hip. "I gotta say, I didn't know you had all that in ya, toots." She teased. You playfully rolled her eyes, wrapping your arms around her neck in a hug. You were one of the only people who could get away with it, but she returned it, slipping her arms around your middle.

Suddenly, you pulled back. "Oh! Are you thirsty? Let me go get us a drink, I'll be right back!" You hurried away before she could even protest. She kept her eyes on you the whole time, with all the men in this place she wanted to make sure they kept their hands to themselves. And oh, was she glad she did.

You were minding your business, waiting for the bartender to finish making the drink when you felt rough hands on your hips. Not the hands she wanted on you.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing working in a place like this?" The man asked, voice deep as he squeezed your hips. "None of your business. Don't touch me." You shot back, trying to slap his hands away. He laughed, pulling you back against him. "Ohh, a feisty one. I like that." The man whispered in your ear. It was only a matter of seconds before you heard her.

"Get your hands off of my girlfriend before I cut them off of you myself." Jinx threated, eyes glowing in anger as she stared him down. He laughed again, putting his hands up in defense. "It's not my fault! I couldn't help it. She's just standing there so pretty, and I didn't see you anywhere around." He started. "But you know what, I have always wanted to see some girl on girl action, think I can swing by sometime?"

Gross.

Surprisingly, Jinx wasn't the one to say something first. "Oh fuck off! Like you'd get that offer." You muttered the last part under your breath, quickly becoming annoyed. He huffed before turning to walk away, mumbling something about you being a bitch but you didn't care.

"I could've handled that for you, ya'know." Jinx spoke behind you, placing her chin on your shoulder. "I know." You sighed as you grabbed the drink you ordered. "He just pissed me off, I couldn't help it."

Jinx let out a chuckle behind you, gripping your hips to replace the feeling of his hands. "I don't like the way he touched you." Her hands gripped you tighter, pulling your hips back to press agaisnt her own. Your free hand rested on one of hers as you hummed in a silent agreement.

"I should take you back there and make you forget how his worthless hands even felt." She whispered, lips now pressed against your ear. You felt the heat begin to pool in your stomach as a shiver ran down your spine. "Jinx." You said it like it was a warning, but both of you know it wasn't.

Jinx chuckled again, using the hands on your waist to spin you to face her. "Wanna show me where your room is, toots?" You could hear the smile in her voice as her fingers toyed with the waist band of the bottoms you were wearing.

You spun on your heel, grin wide as you grabbed her hand to lead her to the back. Within seconds of opening the door, your back is pressed against it and you hear the quick sound of a lock before her lips were on yours.

The kiss was quick, but still so passionate. Her hands rested on the sides of your neck, pulling you closer to her like she needed you more than the air she breathed.

Her teeth grazed your bottom lip harshly, and when you let out a soft moan her hand reached to the back of your head to pull your hair. "Jinx-" You started, but a quick 'shh' was enough to shut you up.

Your hands ran up her back, gripping her shoulder blades when she pressed her knee between your thighs. You moaned into the kiss, your knees almost giving out. Jinx moved down to kiss your neck, placing her hands on your hips again to guide you against her thigh.

"Jinx! Fuck- what if someone hears?" You pant. "Then I guess you'll just have to be quiet f'me this time. Can ya do that pretty?" You can feel her breath fan against your neck with each word, and gods does it do nothing to aid the heat spreading through your body. Your head leans against the door with a quiet 'thump'.

Jinx's hands slide down your hips as she begins to play with the strings snug against your waist. "You got a spare?" She moves her head to look at you. Your brows furrow in confusion, tilting your head.

"Keepsake." Jinx giggles, quickly untying the strings by pulling them down. A gasp escapes your lungs as you feel the cold air brush against you. "First time I've got to fuck you in here," She starts, fingers sliding through you, other hand tucking your bottoms into her pocket. "Give me somethin' to remember it by, yeah?" Her fingers circle your clit, slowly.

Your lips part, your nails dig into the skin on her shoulders. The music can still be heard, and oh does it add so much. Her lips come back to your neck. "So wet." She breathes out, moving down before she slips her fingers in. "From me or him, huh?" Jinx digs her teeth in after saying this. Your breath hitches in your throat as your nails drag down the exposed skin on her back. "God!- You, Jinx, always you." Your words are basically slurred.

Jinx smiles into your neck. "Good fuckin' answer." Her free hand is now on your thigh, pushing it back against the door to get a better angle. "Oh!" You moan, maybe a little too loudly. "Shut it." She whispers, digging her nails into your skin. "Want someone to hear ya, huh?" Jinx curls her fingers, knowing how you'd react. "That desperate for attention baby?" She teases.

Your thighs are shaking from holding yourself up. "No." It comes out quiet. "No? Hm, I think you're lyin' t'me." She giggles into your neck before lifting her head and nudging your chin with her nose, making you look at her. "At least look me in the eyes when you lie to me." She mockingly pouts, tilting her head.

Jinx speeds her fingers up, smirking as she eyes you down, specifically your neck. You can only imagine the marks that are left behind. "So pretty." She whispers, curling her fingers into the spot that makes you see stars. "Now everyone's gonna know who you belong to, pretty girl."

You can't speak, the words are stuck in your throat as she fucks you into oblivion. Strangled whines and muffled moans leave your lips. The knot in your stomach begins to tighten, and your head is getting dizzier with each pump of her fingers.

"Jinx... please, more." Your voice comes out strained, hips bucking into her hand. "So greedy." She teases. "You want more?" A smirk rests on her lips again. Jinx pulls her fingers out, and before you can whine in protest her hands are under your thighs, lifting you up and wrapping your legs around her torso. You squeal at the sudden movement.

She walks to your vanity, shoving things to the floor before placing you down. Jinx's knee spreads your thighs once more. "I'll give you more." She grins as she grips your thigh with one hand, using the other to slip into you again. You barely have time to process before you feel a vibration coursing through your body.

The air is ripped from your lungs as your mouth falls open with a silent cry. "Yeah, I knew you'd like that." She giggles to herself. "Figured if I'd have to make myself a new finger... why not give it some advantages, right?" Her pace is just as cruel as it was the first time, the sounds of her hand slapping against your skin and the sound of your arousal filling the room.

Suddenly, the vibrations become harder, quicker. Your back arches away from the mirror as your fingers grip the vanity. The tightness in your stomach begins to get tighter and you're afraid it's about to snap. Tears of pleasure begin to swell in your eyes. Her name falls from your lips as your hands reach up to her back once more, pulling her in closer.

Your breathing becomes labored as you feel yourself get closer to your peak. Your face is hidden in the crook of her neck, using her to cover the sounds of pleasure that you can't hold back.

"Baby... m'so close, please." You're pleading with her, hips rocking with each thrust of her fingers. "Yeah? You wanna cum?" Jinx mocks, curling her fingers harsher as her thumb reaches to rub your clit in quick circles. "Want this whole place to know who's making you feel this good, ya hear me?" Her tone is harsh in your ear and all you can do is nod in response.

"Come on, baby. Let go, give it to me." It only takes a few more seconds after that before your head tosses back and her name leaves your lips with a loud moan. Jinx slows her fingers down a bit, placing soft kisses on your neck as she whispers sweet praises you can't even comprehend right now.

Once you've rode out your high, she removes her fingers as you whine at the sensitivity. "You did so good f'me pretty girl, s'proud of you." She whispers into your neck, using one of her hands to rub your back. You hum in content, bringing a hand up to rest on the back of her head.

"That was-" "Amazing? Best sex you've ever had?" She cuts you off, smiling widely as she jokes. You laugh, shoving her shoulder lightly. "Yeah, somethin' like that." You return the smile as you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

"Y'know, I might just need to become a regular here." Jinx giggles again as she helps you change clothes. After that, there's no way you're going back to work. That should be a fun conversation to have with your boss; you thought to yourself.

You shake your head with a playful smile. "Yeah, I don't see that ending too well, baby. You have no self control! If you do this every time, I'll probably lose my job." You tease her, placing a quick kiss to her lips before pushing yourself off the vanity.

"Then I guess you better start lookin' toots!" Jinx pokes your side, laughing as she grabs your hand to follow you out the door.

This was going to be a long night.

masterlist.

[allbark-no-bite]

good boy.

art donaldson x reader (wc: 2.9k)

summary: as Art’s personal physical therapist, it’s your job to fix what Tashi has torn apart, by whatever means necessary. or in which Art just needs some TLC

warnings: 18+ smut, it could be worse tbh, mentions of disordered eating

author’s note: i’m back ig?? im out of uni for the summer and challengers has me in a chokehold. Art Donaldson the man that you are

————————————————————————

You're standing just within earshot of the doorway, passing a sanitary wipe over one of the tables in the athlete treatment room when you hear the door abruptly open. Tashi storms in with a purpose and Art trails meekly behind her. Even if you had been clueless to how the match had gone rather than on the sidelines beside Tashi not even twenty minutes ago, you could have guessed by the hard line of her mouth that Art was in for it. Not that her displeased scowl was much different from her usual scowl, but you'd been around long enough to know the difference.

She stops abruptly, and Art heels obediently as Tashi turns around to face him. "I need you to tell me when you're going to fucking get it together so that I can stop wasting my time."

Weary and sweat soaked, Art just stares at her with that pitiful look on his face and says nothing in reply. His blue eyes solemnly take in her harsh disappointment as though beyond used to it. At this point it's not all that foreign to you either.

"You may as well be fucking asleep out there," she snaps.

This time his mouth opens. "I- I'm just tired-" he begins, although there's hardly any argue to his voice at all.

"No, I'm tired, Art," Tashi interjects. "Do you have any idea how much fucking work I've put into getting you back onto the court this past year?! I've done everything! The least you could do go out there and try to act like I've done anything for you at all!"

Art swallows, the slight frown on his face deepening. "I am. I just- I don't-"

Before he can even finish his sentence. The open palm of Tashi's hand connects with his cheek as she pops the left side of his face. Art closes his mouth. You pretend to concentrate on wiping down the table. It's not the first time you've witnessed one of these conversations but it still feels private, like you shouldn't be here. You keep wiping the table.

Understanding that anything else he says is only going to make Tashi angrier, Art resigns to once again watching her in silence. His blue eyes are sad. The usually fair skin of his cheek is tinted pink where she popped him. Although it wasn't very hard, you're sure it still hurt him all the same.

"Quit wasting my time," is all she says before she finally turns and leaves, walking right past you and out the other door. You hold your breath as she passes you. Art watches her go but makes no move to follow. You release an audible sigh. It's been a frustrating day for everyone. As Art's personal trainer, physical therapist, and close friend, you felt every loss, every ache and pain, every bad play. And there seemed to be a lot of those lately.

Art is still standing there, watching the closed door that Tashi left though.

Not knowing how to break the silence, you finally pat the freshly sanitized treatment table. "C'mon," you call gently, as though beckoning to a wounded dog.

It takes a moment for him to budge, but eventually he does, his disheartened spirit apparent in the way he walks over. Used to the usual routine, he tugs his damp shirt off over his head as he takes a seat, the lean muscles of his torso flexing as he does so. You allow yourself to ogle at him, only for a brief moment before stepping in between the bracket of his knees. Gently, you cradle his chin, tipping his head back to look up at you as your thumb smooths over the redness of his cheek. His blue eyes blink up at you, sad and dog-like.

"It wasn't terrible," you reassure him. "You had surgery six months ago. You're still getting your feet back underneath you. Most people wouldn't have come back." You're right. The still-pink scars on his shoulder are still fresh on your mind. The stitches weren't even out before Tashi had him in physical therapy. Even though his medical team had released him, it was still a bit early to start doing rehab so soon after surgery, Art's comfort being your biggest concern. But when Tashi wants something, she gets it.

Wordlessly, Art sighs, the weight of his head settling into your palm as he finally lets go of the tension he'd been carrying. It was always like this. You fixing what Tashi had torn apart. You understood where Tashi was coming from. Art needed a firm voice in his training, and you had a lot of respect for the way she put her foot down and never let up, not even once. But there was only so many times you could kick a dog while he was down.

So if Art needed someone to coddle him, you would coddle him.

He trusts you. He needs you, is what Tashi had told you when she asked you to stay on as his trainer full time. The three of you had been in the same year at Stanford all those years ago, Tashi and Art on the tennis team and you helping out as a student trainer as part of a class requirement. Three peas in a pod, the trio of you were. Of course then they both graduated, leaving you to finish up your schooling, meanwhile Art set off to go pro.

A few years later, once Tashi officially took on the position as Art's coach, she began building his team, and that's where you came in. You were hesitant at first.

'I already lost to you once, Tashi. I won't come in second to you again.'

She had paused on the other end of the line. Back in your Stanford days, it was obvious to anyone with eyes that you were head over heels in love with the blonde tennis player. But loving Art was like accepting the participation ribbon for a game you knew you weren't going to win in the first place. It was like standing next to the podium, just lucky enough to be included in the picture while Tashi and tennis took first and second place. And so you let him go.

'I'm not asking you to. This is different.'

Your hand slips from his face, and he forces his eyes open.

“Have you eaten?" you ask, stepping away in order to put some distance between the two of you and look for the granola bars that you keep especially for him. The gels were good sources of quick fuel in between sets, but they were hardly enough to even begin to make up for the calories he burned while playing.

Slowly, Art shakes his head, but he makes no move to take the snack from your hand when you offer it to him. Ever since his injury, nutrition became all the more important. So much to the point that every single thing that he consumed was mapped out to the exact calorie. Although he would never admit it, any sort of change in this routine made him incredibly anxious. Some days it was better not to cause him the anxiety than to force him.

Today, you insistently hold out the bar until he begrudgingly takes it from your hand. You don't move until you've seen him tear open the package and take a bite.

"Were you still feeling tight?" you ask as you walk around the table, stopping at the slouch of his turned back. You reach out to grasp at the joint of his neck and shoulder, your thumb smoothing over the kinesiology tape that's peeling away at the base of his neck.

He half turns his head to glance back at you. "You watched the match. You tell me."

His response is meant to be snippy, but it comes out more defeated than anything. To be fair, you've been his trainer long enough to know that if something was bothering him physically, you would have picked up on it.

"I want to hear it from you."

"I felt fine."

Your left hand follows suit on the other side of his neck, and you use both of your thumbs to apply pressure to what you assume will be a tense spot along the upper part of his traps. Predictably, Art groans at the attention. The muscles of his back contract as he fights the urge to shake you off. Relaxing the muscle hurts as much as it feels good. Besides his obvious discomfort, the rest of his body has gone lax under your touch. His shoulders have dropped at least an inch, and his chin has fallen to rest against his chest.

"Finish your granola bar," you reprimand him, your firm fingers working across his back until you find another spot that nearly has him jerking away. He releases a whine but obediently takes another bite of the bar. This time he finishes it before you have to remind him again.

You spend a few more minutes torturing him before you're satisfied that a majority of the tension has left his shoulders.

"Okay, good boy," you murmur, leaning forward so that your chest is close enough to brush against his back. One of your hands trails up to squeeze the back of his neck reassuringly.

You're close enough to hear him swallow at the name. The skin on the nape of his neck shivers despite how hot he still is from the match.

"Was I?" he asks timidly. "Good today?"

'I can be his coach. Or I can be the person he cries to after a bad day. But I can't be both. That's why he needs you."

Without removing your hand from his neck, you walk around the table so you're standing in front of him. Art widens the spread of his legs so that you can stand between them. His chin is still pressed to his chest, blue eyes focused on the ground.

"Art," is all you say, shifting your grip on his neck to tug lightly at his golden blonde hair. At your voice, he lifts his head just enough to look up at you through the pale wisps of his eyelashes. The irises of his blue eyes shine are wet with uncertainty.

Your fingers loosen their grip to allow your nails to scratch at his scalp. "You're good, Art. You'll always be good."

Art twists his head to nuzzle his cheek along the inside of  your outstretched arm. His lips kiss the crook of your elbow. He swallows again. "Even if I don't play tennis?"

You can tell the question's been bothering him, eating at his nerves, and messing up his game. You know him well enough to know that retirement isn't what he wants, not really. At least not right now. What he wants is the reassurance that it's going to be okay if he can't swing the comeback.

"Look at me."

He lingers a moment longer with his lips pressed lovingly against your skin before he reluctantly shifts his gaze up to you. His look is anticipatory but reserved, as if to preemptively conceal his disappointment should you choose to crush his heart with your answer.

His fear is understandable. Art's relationship with Tashi has always been entirely built off of his tennis career. By being the driving force behind his success, Tashi has vicariously lived out the life she would have had had her injury never happened. Without tennis, Art has nothing left to offer her. He knows that if he gives up tennis, he loses Tashi.

Your relationship with Art was a little less conditional. Hell, you'd been in love with him since the first time you'd laid eyes on him at Stanford. You can still picture him standing there on the court, barely nineteen, scrawny, nervous smile, backwards cap over his strawberry blonde hair. Before he was the Art Donaldson. But when Tashi had stepped into the picture, you figured that was where your fairytale ended.

"I don't love you because of tennis. I love you because you're kind, and thoughtful, and you're passionate about what you do." You smile a bit before adding, "And you're my good boy."

The name turns him bashful again, and he's quick to turn and hide his smiling face against your arm, only the flushed tips of his ears visible. "[Y/n]," he mumbles, likely meaning to be threatening, but it doesn't come out that way.

Art Donaldson lived to be praised.

You laugh, pulling him closer so that his face is held against your chest. The hand that you don't have threaded through his hair trails up the muscle of his defined quad. "You're my good boy. Aren't you, baby?"

Art whines, squirming when your hand reaches the apex of his thigh and hovers over the forming bugle of his shorts. He's not quite there yet, his dick only half chubbed up in interest, but given the day that he's had, you won't make him wait.

"Please?" he mumbles, his face still buried into your collarbone, as if attempting to curling into you, like a small child needing their parent to hold them for comfort.

You rake your nails lightly up the inside of his thigh. "What, baby?"

Not only did Art liked to be praised, but he was masochist even on his worst days.

"Want you to touch me," he mumbles, his voice muffled by your shirt. "Please."

Your hand still scratching through his hair, you press a kiss to the side of his head, unable to suppress your smile at his timid politeness and how it never seems to fail him. The only time he ever resembled anything remotely voracious was on the court.

Palm finding his tented shorts, you cup him through the fabric. Art responds immediately to your touch, his hips shifting further into your grasp. You continue to pet him through his shorts, appreciating the way you can feel him actively responding to your touch.

His nails dig into the padding of the treatment table when you give his now fully hard dick a less than sympathetic squeeze. His breath is hot as he pants against your collarbone, alternating between laving open mouthed kisses to your skin and whining when you pause fondling him just to feel his hips rut up into your palm.

Art was so in control on the tennis court, that often after a match, putting the control into someone else's hands was just what he needed.

When his hips start to stutter, you ease up but continue to stroke him through his shorts. The front of his shorts are damp with the musk of residual sweat and precum.

His breath is shallow—anticipatory.

"Gunna come?" you ask softly, speaking into the blonde mess of his hair, cradling him. He right there, you can tell by the lackluster buck of his hips, his building fatigue, and the change in his breathing.

"Can I? —Please?" Art asks breathily. He hiccups out the last part, his voice catching.

"You know you don't have to ask."

There's a brief pause, as if coming to the realization, before he meekly murmurs, "I know.

It should be sad really, his unwavering obedience, but there are two sides to Art, two polar extremes. On the court, every match, every set, every debilitating second is up to him. No one else can help him out there, and up until about a year ago, he played like it. That was the side of Art Donaldson that Tashi wanted. After the match is a different story. In private, Art needed someone to do the thinking for him, to pull him into a reality where he could believe that it didn't matter whether he won or lost. Tashi had not the sympathy nor the patience for that kind of fragility.

Art comes with a brief cry into your chest, his body arching into yours. Your hand palms at his pulsing dick until he's oversensitive and pulling away. When you relent, the front of his shorts are sticky and wet.

Finally, Art lifts his face from the safety of your chest. His blue eyes are glossed over, but it's an improvement from the detached look they held ten minutes ago. His cheeks are flushed, a mixture of his own embarrassment and satisfaction. 

You can't help the soft smile that creeps onto your face at the look of him, and immediately Art is abashedly trying to hide his face again, his own smile starting to appear. Before he can, you bring your hands back up to cradle his face, thumbs wiping away the wetness from under his eyes. This time he lets you.

His eyes study your face for a second, admiring you, appreciating the love he has for you.

“I don’t want to play tennis anymore.”

You can’t tell if it’s more of a statement or a confession. Either way, you know he’s telling you the absolute truth.

“Okay,” you reply softly, not hint of judgement in your voice. Maybe some disappointment, but that was understandable.

Retirement would be a kindness. Art would finally put back on some healthy weight, start smiling again, put on a real, actual smile. You could already see it, a nice house for the two of you to settle down in, with a picket fence and a dog in the backyard, the kind of things the two of you would have never had time for on tour.

Tennis had brought the two of you together, but it wouldn’t end you.

[fairiewonu]

roommate! wonwoo

18+ only!

summary: wonwoo finds your vibrator in the bathroom

warnings: smut, use of a vibrator, reader has a vulva

a/n: my mind has just been wonwoo wonwoo wonwoo wonwoo since maestro released. (it’s been wonwoo wonwoo wonwoo since 2020 honestly)

i've been thinking a lot recently about roommate!wonwoo who you're not super close with. you met him through your mutual friend mingyu, and both of you were looking for a roommate. basically, you’re living together because it's cheap and he seemed nice enough.

you’ve talked with him here and there, and have gotten to know him a little bit. he goes to your college and everyone loves him but he’s sort of quiet and keeps to himself. he likes cats and ordering takeout and if you get home late at night you’ll sometimes find him fucking someone into the couch cushions (he apologized profusely, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to be upset. you think about him whenever you’re in your room, your vibrator on the lowest setting so as to not wake him up).

you like to take advantage of the time you have when he’s not around, so whenever he's not home you like to take a bath with good music and your vibrator. although one day you had forgotten your vibrator in the bath and didn't realize until wonwoo had gotten home. you were in your room, still getting dressed when you heard the bathroom door shut across the hall and the shower head turn on.

you weren’t sure whether to run to the bathroom and try and get it before wonwoo saw (you know it's too late) or to act oblivious and pretend everything was normal when he came out. except when you choose the latter, wonwoo left the bathroom with just his towel wrapped loosely around his hips, and headed straight to your room.

"i think you forgot something," he said simply, holding up your vibrator with a smirk. he was leaning against your doorframe as you sat at your vanity, trying to look natural. the mortified expression on your face, however, gave your facade away.

UGHH and i keep thinking about the different ways this could go. wonwoo being smug and holding this slip up against you to tease you whenever he can. whenever he leaves now, he likes to say something like “have a nice bath.” anything to make your eyes widen and your cheeks burn. this goes on for a few weeks until either you or him break and y’all end up in bed together (or better yet in the bath. wonwoo wants to see how you use your little friend on yourself before he takes it and uses it on you).

or, after going into your room initially to taunt you he could just throw you on your bed and use the vibrator on you right then and there. he knows you’re already needy from using the toy earlier. just the click of the button to turn it on has your body arching towards him. he spends the next hour using the vibrator on you, until it dies. then he just replaces the toy with his hands and eventually, his cock.

wonwoo was grateful for your little mistake. he wasn’t sure how much longer he could go on pretending that he couldn’t hear you at night, using your vibrator on the lowest setting as if you thought the walls were soundproof. hearing you moan his name one night, getting whinier and whinier to the point where he was sure you knew he could hear you.

he could definitely hear you now, as he pinned you to the bed and slammed his cock in and out of you. you’re begging to cum for the fourth time and wonwoo is reveling in your sounds. he flips you over and presses your face to your pillows, continuing a brutal pace as his hand reaches around you to rub harsh circles on your swollen clit. you’re cumming again not long after, but he’s nowhere near finished with you.

he makes up for lost time that night, keeping you up for hours after until you’re both passed out in your bed. the next day, you wake up to sound of your vibrator turning on. when your eyes open, wonwoo is next to you in bed, already spreading your legs apart.

“i found batteries.”

living with wonwoo was starting to have many more perks aside from cheapness and convenience.

[aegis-noctua]

Allow me to finally break and enter this fandom with my humble offering!

I just wanted to do something with them all being good friends. Love, love, love their group dynamic! Also I have like 20+ pages worth of silly little dialogs that I want to turn into equally silly little comics, so hopefully I'll be sticking around.

Aaand a lot of rambling under the cut.

I'm an avid reader, you see. I generally don't watch things (sometimes not in literal years), it's just not something I do. So when at the beginning of fall tumblr exploded with outrage over the Dead Boy Detectives cancellation, my first thought genuinely was "what a stupid f*cking name" and then immediately "people are overreacting, it's just a series, nothing is worth that much of a fuss". But after observing for some time from a safe distance I eventually grew curious. I thought I knew what I was getting into.

(I had no bloody idea)

Well. Here I am now, almost four months of obsession later, eating my words with shards of glass and no sign of reaching the bottom of this cursed rabbit hole. I've been drawing more than ever and for the first time seriously thinking about honing my artistic skills. I have some drafts for at least two stories, and even though I'm a little hesitant to write (not being a native and all), I'm pretty determined to give it a go anyway. I tend to avoid social media and digital public spaces in general, but #SaveDeadBoyDetectives campaign changed that as well. To my great regret, there is not much I can do or participate in, so I settled for trying to be supportive of all the lovely people who created probably the safest and most comfortable online space I've ever encountered. I'm not as good as Charles at keeping spirits up, but damn I wanna try.

It honestly feels like if I had something like dbda growing up, I'd turn out at least 40% less traumatized as a person. It grew to mean so much so quickly. It's like some moments were plucked right out of my life and then embedded in the show. I felt (and still feel) so seen, and understood, and reassured, and safe, and hopeful, and accepted when watching (pretty much everybody's but especially) Edwin's side of the story. It's so much more than "just a series", and these Dead Boys deserve every good word that's being said about them.

Okay, I'm wrapping it up now, and the only thing left to say is thank you to all the people who put their effort into keeping this wonderful story alive and making the fandom so friendly and welcoming.

(right now I'm working on a big Christmas comic that I definitely won't be able to finish in time, but it will appear here at some point)

[tiny-space-platypus]

Half baked idea time!!

DC/dp au where it's like late teens/warily twenties punk Danny being tired as shit. Like this man just wants to sit on a roof top, patch himself up, maybe smoke then go back to having to do inner dimensional politics or another fight. But Danny can't have that instead every time he tries a hero either thinks he's going to kill himself and tries to intervene or some sort of fight breaks out and his stupid core makes him have a mighty need to assist. Also, where the hell did all these heroes come from, ancients knew they weren't there when he needed help. He's just a tad bit bitter about the only time he's getting attention from heroes is the only time he doesn't want it. He goes everywhere just trying to catch a break.

Or

Danny tries to find some peace and fucking quiet only to end up freak out the league because dear god this kid is going through it and they need to get him before he becomes a supervillain or something.

Metropolis

Chills for 5 minutes seeing Superman nopes the hell out of there cursing in kryptonian. He deals with his kind enough in the realms he doesn't want to deal with the living either. "Nope! Not today! Not dealing with you today!"

Superman is freaking out because there's a kid that was sitting on top of the daily planet only to disappear speaking his language??? He also had a really slow heart beat? Was that child alright??

Coast city

Danny's on a large skyscape sitting on the edge watching the streets below as he patches himself up and lights a smoke only to have it glow green and ripped from him.

"You know, this stuff isn't exactly good for you. Especially on skyscrapers. Besides you seem a little young to be smoking."

Danny who looks like he wants to tackle Hal pit of the god damn sky for interrupting his break. "I feel like I'm too young for a lot of things but here we are"

Hal starts some sort of space cop speech and Danny decides fuck this and jumps off the building mouthing "Acab" with a salute and disappear giving the green Lantern a heart attack. Since he thinks he's about to save a kid from falling to his death only for the kid to not be there.

Central City

Danny is yet again trying to relax on a skyscraper only to be interrupted by the flash. At least this time the hero doesn't take his smokes instead just sits next to him. It's nice actually, the quiet white noise of the city below shining how stars would in the sky. Eventually Danny would finish his smoke and put it out before shoving the bud in his pocket. (He won't litter) as soon as Danny stood up the flash grabbed him forcing him back to sitting.

"Look kid, I don't know what's going on but there's gotta be a better way than this. I'll help you if you need help just-"

Danny now staring at him. A little dumbfounded then laughed.

"I'm not trying to kill myself. Just wanted to smoke in peace." Danny looks down at the ground from 150 meters up "besides I've fallen from worse"

"Great! Wait what?" The Flash looked relieved for a second then proceeded the second part of what Danny just said. The flash only looked away for less then a second which gave Danny just enough time to disappear scaring the shit out of the hero.

Bludhaven

Danny after having a rather rough fight as phantom with his parents. Bleeding and mumbling curses as he patches himself up on another skyscraper. "Stupid ecto-gun, stupid laws, stupid, stupid"

Just as Danny started to patch a literal hole in his side Nightwing would make his appearance. "Back away-"

Danny snapped at the hero. "You've got to be fucking- I'm trying to kill myself, Yes I'm injured, no I do not want help, yes I'm fine. Will you be going now?"

Nightwing paused then sat next to the kid a little disturbed. As he watches this kid doing stitches on himself. "Bad day?"

Danny snorted as he finished stitching himself up with fishing wire. "Bad life" He then started smoking again making the vigilante frown. This kid was nowhere near old enough to smoke but the kid was also giving himself stitches on a roof so not the worst thing this kid has done so far. "Wanna tell me what happened?"

Danny shrugged. "My parents shot me again"

"I'm sorry what? Again?!"

[kedreeva]

Okay so, I don't think I've spoken of the saga here yet but! Gather round. I shall tell you a long story about the bird I just acquired and why she is VERY IMPORTANT.

At the beginning of last fall, I started looking into quail genetics a little more, because I got tired of not being able to sex my Celadon quail by their feathers. Originally I thought I could kill 2 birds (ok maybe more) with 1 stone and order nice jumbo wild type (which MANY places advertised as wild type jumbo) hatching eggs, and this would help me put some size on the Celadons (jumbo) while also making them feather sexable (wild type). Perfect!

But then I come to find out that pretty much all jumbo lines are jumbo BROWNS, as in they all have the sex linked brown (SLB) gene. So, I was a little confused and a LOT annoyed because I wanted to work specifically with the wild type color/pattern. No mutations just straight, plain wild type.

And EVERYWHERE I looked - major production hatcheries, private breeders through websites, Facebook groups, local swaps, craigslist, e v e r y w h e r e -

People ONLY had SLB.

This spring I came across a video showing about the differences between SLB and wild type and I figured if the person who made it can tell, maybe she will have some. So I looked her up (not in a stalker way, her farm name was stamped on the video and took me to the website), and what luck! She was in Michigan! Upper Michigan, so still a hike, but not California, y'know?

So I shot her an email and explained that I was looking for WT and that her site said she bred them and that people could do local pickup. She responded yeah she's totally got a bunch! And I said great, I'm also in Michigan, albeit far away, but I don't mind driving 7+ hours each way, because I really need actual, trusted WT for sure birds for my celadon project, can I come pick them up?

Cue the most frankly bizarre email chain in my short life. As soon as I mentioned that I was going to drive, or perhaps that I had a genetics plan in place, she got super sketchy and started saying how she hadn't really paid as close attention to SLB vs. WT, that it mattered less than she thought it would when she started, that I shouldn't focus on that either, and also that "fawn celadon is practically unheard of" in the hobby and "you should focus on a clean Tibetan because it's hard to find without roux in it) implying that I should concentrate on those things instead. And concluded by telling me if I really want WT, to contact this other person (why happens to be someone I can't stand). It all sounded VERY much like she didn't have wild type males, after all, and had thought I didn't know the difference so it wouldn't actually matter. But, it does. It actually matters a lot to me.

So I messaged back to say, well, I don't want to do any of those things, I specifically want to work with this set of genetics and you said you have them so I shouldn't have to go to anyone else??

And then she went radio silent for a week. I kind of figured I'd called a bluff, and that she was one of dozens of people I'd contacted who'd said they had WT only to find out they had SLB. I get that it's difficult to see the difference, but this particular person was the president of the American Coturnix Breeders Association or whatever (found out it's actually just a club formed by her and her friends a year ago, so not as impressive as it sounds, considering they don't actually DO anything- no putting on shows, no newsletters, no certifications, no public breeder directory, no finished SOP, nada), so I kind of expected she should know what she's talking about, if anyone does.

Eventually, after a week, she responded that she had been judging at a county fair, but she had a few heterozygous males (WT het roux, which is fine) and she could set a hatch for me for more if I wanted to come at the end of the month, but she's in WI now, not MI. I said sure, since where she was in WI was actually closer than where she'd been in the UP, and we arranged date/time.

The day of, my neighbor friend, Jude, comes with me for company/keeping me awake through the 15 hours driving round trip. It's a pleasant enough drive. We arrived at a cutesy little house on the edge of town that looks like anyone's house in a neighborhood, with a spacious lawn. The person meets us and takes me around the side of the house to a 6x6x1.5 or so chicken tractor, where she's got some male coturnix. She pulls the available males for me to look through and... fam, they ALL looked SLB, to me.

Now, she swore to me up and down that they couldn't be anything except WT het for roux, because of the way she is breeding them. But I've put these birds next to my SLB males and if I didn't have my males banded, I would not ever have told the difference between them. I still picked up 4 of them, because I will give it a go- worst case, I can produce plain Roux hens/plain Roux males for use in breeding later, best case they do actually produce WT hens and they just LOOK SLB and I have to figure out what the differences are. I don't want to leave without seeing her hens, which she has told me are all WT (which is why the males HAVE to be het for it), and she takes me back. Now the hens, the hens are easy to see the difference. White bellies first of all, but the chest feathers are also wildly different! The shafts are white, the dot around the shaft is dark, ringed in red, ringed in white. On an SLB, the shafts aren't white, it's just a black dot surrounded in a red feather, and the belly is all red/buff/cream, not white.

This is what an SLB hen looks like:

So I take a nice long look to memorize the color, and thank her for showing me and meeting, and we head back home.

I do fecals when I get home because all of the males are VERY thin, no meat on them at all, and since she said she'd been feeding Purina (garbage for fowl feeds), I figured that was why, but no- HUGE coccidia loads in all of them. So I treated them and got them on a better feed. They immediately began putting on meat, and they're find now.

The rest of this summer, I have spent going to local bird swaps and inspecting all of the quail I could find, hoping to find one (1) actual wild-type phenotype bird. Hundreds and hundreds of birds, I have pawed through them all, being super obnoxious to the owners I'm sure, holding and inspecting males. I found ONE suspected WT male (and this is a HUGE "suspected," he could very well be SLB with low red expression). I compared him when I got home and I'm doubting myself still, so I don't know if I will ever actually pair him with the SLB hens or if I'll just wait til I have a roux set.

Regardless, it's been a dry season for getting what I want. It's been a dry YEAR. Yesterday was another swap and more hundreds of quail and me pawing through all of them.

Until.

My eyes landed upon.... her.

If you've only lived in an area that has american crows and not ravens, you find yourself wondering if crows are ravens. You see a big crow and you think wow! maybe that is a raven! It could be a crow, but it's seems bigger so maybe it's a raven. But, if you take a trip to a place with ravens, and you see one for the first time, you realize that there is no question, when you see a raven. When you see a raven in person, there's no question and not only is there no question, you wonder how you could ever have thought a crow was a raven. It's laughable, while looking at the raven.

That's how finding this bird felt. I'd been picking up every SLB hen and going maybe this is actually WT? It could be SLB but maybe it's WT? But the second I laid eyes on her in the middle of a pack of SLB with some mixed colors, I knew I was looking at WT hen, and I can't imagine how I ever thought maybe an SLB hen was WT.

Here's a better photo of her chest and belly (she's beat UP from her previous home, the back of her head and most of her rump are plucked clean from males). You can see the white shafts and the white belly.

And some other pics of her, showing the grey-brown on her side and back- VERY different than the SLB hens

I can't express how stoked I am about this bird. This is the first time after a LOT of effort and time, that I have felt confident I am holding the bird I want.

She's also the indicator that I have a LOT of work ahead of me.

My end goal is to have birds that look like her, weigh 12-14oz, and lay large, blue eggs. I have birds that lay large, blue eggs, I have birds that weigh 12-14oz live weigh, and now I have at least 1 bird that looks like her, which means I can make more that look like her. The first step is cleaning the color mutations out of the celadon line without losing the celadon eggs. This is going to be a bit of a nightmare, BUT, I have a friend helping me out with getting a few celadons that are either WT or SLB (I'm guessing SLB all things considered) to start the work with. I will work over the winter to get a few more actual WT birds here, and to start crossing out the celadons with the SLB jumbos to clean out the other feather color mutations. Once I'm down to just SLB and celadon for mutations, I can clean the SLB out with the WT and roux lines.

This project will likely take me a good 2 years, maybe 3, to complete and then test breed to ensure I haven't lost the celadon gene and I don't have any hidden recessives lingering about. But just having the fucking materials to do it all on hand now is a huge step forward from where I was when I decided to start the project.

[tiredsmashbros]

SMG34: LIPBITE COMIC WIP UPDATE

oh boy... i know a bunch of folks are hyped for this comic... and boy oh boy are ya'll's prayers going to be heard... kind of... butt for the celebration milestone, and granted majority are from this comic, i thought it was best to give EVERYTHING that i have currently.

starting off STRONG with what you freaks most want: the completed pages. andddd yep that's it that all that i have done LMAO. i've been fixated on my own smg4 oc: tsb, and during the end of my summer was unfortunately fucked over by some personal issues that fortunately got resolved last minute good grief the anxiety prevented me from drawing the gays sigh... aNYWAYS LINEART WIPS!!!!

here are linearts i have completed / in the progress of!! want to aim like i did in the past by finishing up lineart first, and then speed through with color + minor rendering. the reason i have a few colored is to test out what it would look polished and my god... i have improved A LOT. THESE GAY PEOPLE GIVE POWER I AM NOT KIDDING BELIEVE ME IM NOT CRAY- anyways onto wip pages!

jumpscare: tsb stickman sketches. oh yeah. this is how i sketch and i blame sensei eiichiro oda /j. and in case anyone is unable to understand it {i don't blame u LMAO}, smg4 wakes up from the dream and is startled to see mario by his bed. they have a short convo before mario leaves, and we get a job to smg4 in the bathroom trying to put up a brave face. until the moment he leaves he's stunned due to seeing smg3 at his front door. will i elaborate more on specifics or unwritten dialogue? NOPE! gotta keep secrets to make it even more enjoyable at the end!!

currently at 13 sketched pages total, but this is probably gonna be reaching towards 20-ish pages, surpassing part two, but it will depend on how i come up with how to end it. additionally to confirm there will be a PART FOUR / chapter 3, to end this story. my goal is to have it done before i finish my senior year, or at least during the summer after i graduate bc good lord who knows whats gonna happen.

and lastly, before i end this crazy update, SCRAPPED PAGESSS!!!!!

CONTENT WARNING : NSFW SKETCHES !!!! PLEASE LOOK AWAY IF YOU ARE A MINOR OR DON'T LIKE THIS TYPE OF STUFF!!!

oh boy... dont draw comics while sleep-deprived at 6am... idek what i was even aiming with this ngl other than just for fun, but i scrapped it due to not being what i had in mind for the story. if it doesn't serve a purpose or narrative, its bye bye YEAH BYE BYE THIS IS THE CLOSEST NSFW UR GONNA GET FROM ME HAHAHAHAHA- i say that despite writing a nsfw jojo wattpad smh im only confident doing it in words good lord. btw not watermarking these bc i gen don't care since they're legit scrapped {left top part was kept and completed} so idk what to do with these. im just throwing it and walkin away

now to end with this update, i can hear your question, "when will this be done?" and to answer that question: i'm not entirely sure due to my heavy focus on my smg4 oc: tsb, but my best chance is postponing my oc lore a bit and complete this before november UOIYGJDSIUHJKDWSXYUGHJKCS but we shall have too see...

if you want to join the ping list comment on this post LMAO [click]

ignore below if you're not from the tsb birthday partydddjdhdhdjd

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thurs: smg34 is canon in the tsb universe / au. though most of their encounters are platonic or best-friendy-way, they eventually express their feelings to one another and start dating 3/4’s way of the tsb storyline arc. tsb is a supporter of his friend's relationship and admires and takes inspiration from their relationship heavily to input his future love life. yearning to be in a similar position... to learn what is to really love someone... or what it's truly like to be loved...

[rui-drawsbox]

remembering the most memorable mc's (with canon appearences) from the otomes i played

all of them are phone games btw. and looong rambling about the games after the cut!

Mystic messenger has been in my radar since i was in elementary school but i played it for the first time after the spanish traslation came out (2017 i think?) Seven shaped my type in such a specific way that im not really sure why loved him so much (it was the whole "he loves you in every route" stuff). I like a lot the default mc, most of the fandom did and that was enough to won me over

Rosa is top tier protagonist tbh, Tears of Themis has really good story and characters (as far i played, not a lot but i enjoyed it) The reason i'm not that much of a fan is bc the game is expensive asf and not very free to play friendly. You're either lucky or have a big wallet with the gacha

i miss my wife man(Marius)

Ephemeral has to be one of the best free to play otomes i've played tbh (if my memories aren't tricking me, it's been years) Good artwork, good storyline, good characters and as far i remember you can unlock one chapter of the character route per day (mabye two days, idk) and the mc's background has an important role in every route (she's a zombie! she's pretty now but eventually will fall apart, aaaaand her story gets expanded in one of the routes!) ((shes also adorable)) There's also a sequel, if you wanted more of the boys! never finished it but i'd recommend it

Honorable mentions! Huellitas Mágicas is a great game! has a really good cast with well fleshed arcs for all the characters, even the scondary ones! The game shines more for the development of *all* the characters rather than just the protagonist/ml. The main theme is overcoming insecurities! Each love interest has a different way of helping our (very insecure) protagonist and helping different characters with their own struggles :DD

10/10 i recommend this game if you want something cute and can be finished in a few hours, if i remember right. It also has a sequel! with like- 12 new love interests, also never finished it bc i didnt found a guide that worked for me but ñek

A3! is my canon event as a gacha player. Discovered the english/global server, tried it and got bored, left it for a few months, tried it again and fell in love, noticed the game was going to shut down bc low sales -HAHA :(-. This is not a otome btw, this is here bc Izumi has to be one of my favorite protagonists in gacha games ever

last but not least! Obey me! Shall we date? oh dear, what have they done to you :(. The original had intense powercreep to force you to pull cards -multiple times bc that makes them stronger- and even now, the company showed a lot of favoritism to some characters, leaving others to dust bc they don't make the same money. Not to say, they released a new game with the same cast and new main story (ignoring all what happend before). And let me say: THEY LITERALLY WANTED TO KILL THE ORIGINAL GAME.

Nightbringer might be a decent game but i don't trust the devs anymore, i still remember what happend with Asmo's birthday right after the release, and honestly i don't want to sit there watching how they disrespect my favorite characters again and again and again. Loved the characters hated the devs. 5/10 you can play it if you want but i don't recommend spending money on it, it's not worth it, just search #obey me here in tumblr and enjoy the amazing fanworks that i can assure you have a lot more love than the game itself

i miss my wife man (mammon and levi)