#its ok he make it back for cake

[the-barefoot-hatter]

As Fidds will find out soon find out, terrordactyls are less gamey but more hallucination-y than pterodactyls. You are what you eat they say~!

-

Party Billiam's Weirdmageddon/Wedding photographer was local film legend Harry Claymore. The slightly edited video became something of a minor cult classic but most critics panned the bizarre choice of love interest, excessive weirdness, and the claim it was a "true story! i swear!!!"

[raddest-laddest]

ok. someone’s gonna have to come get my dad or i’m gonna tweak.

[robertaaron]

i did not want to be That Guy but literally if i keep seeing that the only tags ppl leave on that peterick bunk cuddling art is about petes ass i swear i WILL start biting people like i know it’s meant for fun and trust me it was funny to me to begin with too but having smth like that said over and over. without any sort of like further. compliment or excitement at least after is just disheartening at this point

[florida3exclamationpoints]

Hmmmmm I love being mentally ill

[22ayla21]

I had this thought that Mydei would be the type to pick up stray animals off the side of the road and take them home and now I really wanna make a request for Mydei x reader with that prompt in mind if that’s ok

I just can’t get the image of him snuggling a scraggly, ugly, dirty little kitten he found while telling us that it’ll become a vicious protector for us while he’s away (he can’t argue with the cat distribution system lol)

The Lion and the Kitten

Returning home after a long day, Mydei couldn't pass by a homeless, soaking wet kitten, which he decided to bring to his beloved.

The rain lashed down, blurring the road and turning Okhema's familiar streets into shining, winding streams. Mydei, accustomed to the harsher waters of the Sea of Souls, still felt the penetrating cold. Each step echoed dully in the approaching twilight. His mind was filled with thoughts of the upcoming dinner, the warmth of his home, and the anticipation of seeing the one whose laughter was his greatest reward after a long day. He imagined the scent of freshly baked golden pancakes and smiled.

And then, in the alleyway where empty barrels and broken carts usually lay piled, he noticed something. Something small, trembling, curled up into a wet ball. He slowed his pace, then stopped altogether. At first, he thought it was a discarded rag, but on closer inspection, he made out pointy ears and a thin tail.

It was a kitten. Tiny, impossibly thin, soaked to the bone and covered in mud. Its fur was matted, revealing protruding ribs. Its eyes, if they could even be seen through the caked-on dirt, seemed enormous and full of despair. Apparently, someone had pushed it into a puddle or simply abandoned it in the rain, leaving it to die.

All the harshness, all the ruthlessness that had been forged in him by years of battles and survival, momentarily gave way to an unexpected feeling. This tiny ball of life, so vulnerable and miserable, evoked in him what no army of enemies, no prophecy, could: pure, unfeigned pity. Mydei couldn't just walk past. It was simply impossible.

He crouched down, oblivious to the puddle he knelt in. He extended a hand. The kitten hissed in fright but didn't move, as if it had no strength left even to flee. Mydei spoke to it softly, almost a whisper, words he didn't even utter before his soldiers. Words of comfort, tenderness, and promise.

"Hey there, little one," he murmured, gently scooping up the trembling body. The kitten was lighter than he expected, and colder than it should have been. Mud left traces on his armor, but Mydei paid no attention. He pressed the kitten to his broad chest, trying to warm it with his own body heat. The little one trembled but didn't resist, burying its face in his damp clothing.

Lost in his thoughts, Mydei continued on his way. Images of battles, strategic plans, senatorial letters accusing him of treason, receded into the background. Now, only one thought occupied him: how to bring this tiny creature home without scaring it even more, and how to explain its sudden appearance.

The door to their home swung open, and warmth immediately enveloped him. Candles glowed with a soft light, and the scent of stewed meat and cinnamon filled the air. His beloved stood by the hearth, her back to him. Hearing his footsteps, she turned.

Her eyes, usually full of light and laughter, widened when she saw him. Or rather, what he held in his arms.

"Mydei?" Her voice held surprise mixed with slight bewilderment.

He coughed awkwardly. "I... I found him. Out there. On the street. He's... very small." He carefully offered her the kitten. The little one let out a weak squeak.

She took him, and her fingers gently stroked its matted fur. Her face softened. "Oh, my poor dear..." She looked at Mydei, and a mischievous spark flickered in her eyes. "Did you bring home a lion cub, Mydei?"

He blushed slightly. "He... he needed help. He was soaked. And hungry." He shuffled his feet, then added with unexpected seriousness: "When he grows up, he will protect you. From everything. He will be your personal guardian."

She looked at him, her eyes filled with tenderness and barely suppressed laughter. She looked at the kitten, then shifted her gaze to Mydei, surveying him from head to toe as if evaluating him.

"My dear," she said, and her voice held genuine love. "You know, you yourself look like a wet kitten right now. Big, but still a kitten who needs a home and care."

Mydei blinked in surprise. He – a kitten? A warrior who defied gods, called a kitten? But there was no mockery in her words, only warmth and affection. He suddenly realized that in her eyes, he was always something more than just a killing machine or the heir to a cursed throne. He was the one she loved, with all his weaknesses and contradictions.

"Well, as for this little one," she looked at the kitten again, which had already begun purring softly under her gentle touches. "I don't mind. He's certainly dirty and looks like he hasn't eaten in a long time. But we'll wash him, feed him, and take him to the vet tomorrow. We'll check if he has any illnesses. And then he'll become part of our home."

Mydei felt a strange, unaccustomed warmth spread through his chest, stronger than any hearth fire. It was a feeling he hadn't experienced in the Sea of Souls, nor in battles, nor even at the thought of Kremnos. It was the feeling of home. And perhaps, at that moment, holding the dirty kitten he had saved from certain death, Mydei, the "lion without a pride," finally found his own, true pride.

[lush-escape]

The Vigilante's Guide to Grief

pairing: Jason Todd x f!reader wc: 1.4k summary: Jason's therapist recommends journaling to help him through his grieving process after your death prev: first entry next: denial

Stage one: Shock

Hey,

Ok that's a little easier than writing dear. It's June 11th. Sorry it's been a little while. This just feels stupid still. But I told Christy (dumb stupid therapist who told me to do this) that I would give it another try. So here I am. Trying. Unfortunately she's not that bad. That's a lie. I actually really like her. Dick came by to check on me today. Him and Kori brought over some weird tameranian dessert. I dont know. I stuck it in the fridge it looks like it might grow legs and try to bite me.

Jason rubs at his eyes, “I still have no idea what I'm supposed to write.” He mumbles a curse under his breath while running his hand through his messy hair.

I bet you would have tried it. You always liked the weirdest shit. Like the time Steph and Cass tried to make a cake for you for your birthday. Who the fuck even makes matcha and strawberry cake?

“Um, why does it look like that?” Jason eyes the questionable looking cake in front of him.

“Don't worry about how it looks!” Steph waves him off with a nervous smile.

“Do not judge a book by its cover.” Cass crosses her arms as if she's actually offended by Jason's question.

“It's good! She loves matcha and strawberries, it'll be great.”

“Okay, but like… what kind of cake flavor is it?” Jason asks.

“Coffee.” Cass replies.

Jason groans and rubs his hands down his face, “I should have just ignored both of you and gone to the bakery. This is my first time celebrating her birthday with her as her boyfriend, I can't believe I let you two talk me into this. She's going to hate me. She's going to break up with me-”

“Oh no,” Steph shoots Cass a worried glance, “He's spiraling.”

Cass narrows her eyes and smacks Jason on the back of the head earning her an annoyed “ow! What was that for?!”

“Relax. Trust us.” She says calmly.

That night when you went to Wayne Manor at Jason's invite for a special birthday dinner, he said. And when it was time for cake you were just as surprised as Jason, just on the other end of the spectrum. You stare at it unblinkingly.

“It's, listen okay-” Jason stammers, hand on the back of his neck. “I know it looks a little off and I told Steph and Cass that this was going to be a bad idea-” he rambles.

You place a gentle hand on his forearm and immediately he melts. He sighs and deflates, his thoughts stop spiraling, and suddenly everything is right in the world.

“I hate how you do that….” He whispers.

“What?” You ask with a smile.

“Just.. calm me down like that. All you have to do is touch me and it's like- like everything stops and I can think clearly.”

You smile up at him, warm and bright and like he's created the entire universe just for you.

“Come on, let's try this cake.” You tell him softly.

And despite his better judgement he does try the cake. It's different, not what he imagined, and it's good. Jason grumbles as Cass and Steph tease him for being right.

“Alright, enough of everyone's pestering. We're getting outta here.” Jason waves off the family as he takes your hand in his. You look at him and silently ask where he's taking you and he gives you a soft smile in return. He can hear Tim and Dick snickering at the loving gesture. But he ignores them as he drags you out of the manor.

“It’s a surprise.” Jason tells you quietly.

That night Jason takes you for a drive to the harbor near Brown Bridge. It's quiet and cool, the lights from the city accentuating the bridge in front of you. Water slowly laps at the shore, you can hear frogs and crickets as Jason helps you climb onto the hood of his car before taking a spot next to you.

“What'd you bring me all the way out here for?” You ask him playfully with a smile, leaning your cheek against his shoulder.

Jason wraps an arm around you, “..just wanted you for m’self.” He answers questions as his heart thuds in his chest.

“An’... I got you something. Didn't want the brats to see it.” He finally admits after a few peaceful moments of silence. You knew it was coming.

Jason reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small black box.

“It's not anything crazy, just…” He hands it over to you and he's thanking the stars that it's dark out so you can't see the way his face flushes in embarrassment.

Inside is a small, simple, heart shaped locket. Inside holds a picture of the two of you, one of your photo booth pictures - the one of you kissing Jason's cheek as he smiles. The opposite side is engraved with the day he officially asked you to be his.

“Jason…” you breathe out, touched. Heartfelt tears prick the corners of your eyes. 

Wordlessly Jason takes the locket from you and begins to fasten it around your neck.

“It's beautiful, baby.” Your fingers trace the edging of the locket, memorizing it. Jason blushes even more.

“S’not that big of a deal, calm down.” He plays it off with a smile. But even he can't deny the way his heart flutters when he sees it on you.

“Yes it is, you big softy.” You smile up at him and he mumbles something that sounds a lot like “‘m not soft”.

“Yeah, whatever.” He grumbled affectionately before pulling you back into his side.

Jason drops his pen and puts his head in his hands with a shaky sigh. The memory of your first birthday together as an official couple haunts him. He lets himself breathe for a few minutes before he picks his pen back up.

I need you here so bad right now. Not in that stupid fucking urn. I'm spiraling. Again. Sometimes I wish I could feel the same way I did right after you died. Empty. Numb. So I wouldn't have to sit with my thoughts. I was on autopilot. Freaked everyone out though. B said he’d never seen someone so emotionless while planning a funeral before. He said I was in shock. Yeah no shit.

“She doesn't want to be buried.” Jason’s flat tone made everyone on edge.

“We'll have her cremated.” Bruce’s hand is on Jason's shoulder as he looks through a catalogue of coffins and urns.

“Hm…” Jason hums. “Something nice.” His eyes are on the page but he's not really looking. He can't believe this is happening. It all feels fake to him. There's no way your body is going to fit into an urn. You're <I>you</I>, you're not supposed to be in an urn. You're supposed to be sitting on the couch, in his lap, making him watch Love Island or whatever the fuck.

“Something pretty and ornate.” Jason's eyes skim the page. “This one.” He points to a black urn engraved beautifully with stars.

Bruce nods once. He's aware of the shock Jason is in, but it still unnerves him to see his son like this.

“Of course.” He says.

“And for the service I think we should do a, uh, dessert pot luck. She loves desserts.”

Bruce notices the way Jason is still talking about you in present tense but doesn't say anything.

Jason's writing is rushed now as he's trying to get out all of his thoughts while memories of you swirl around in his head.

Christy says that's one of the worst states of grief but I miss it. God I miss you. This isn't fucking fair. None of it is. It wasn't supposed to be you you know. It was supposed to be me. It was always supposed to be me. I already died once what's one more time? I would die a hundred times over if it meant you got to stay here even if it was just for 2 fucking minutes

Jason sighs and closes his notebook. His head is a clouded mess, feels thick with cotton and heavy like lead.

“God damnit…” He pushes away from the desk and without a second thought goes to the kitchen to try that dessert from Kori and Dick. It's what you would've done, after all.

taglist: @vellichor01 @thy-crimson-king @theendofthematerialgworl @tinasdcstuff @4rachn3

[bluesidez]

Can’t get Firefighter Miguel out of my head because of the Miggy discord.

content warning: nothing but fluff...for now 😗

word count: 1.3k, not proofread

Next ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅𓌉◯𓇋 Masterlist

Imagine you’re trying to get into baking or something and you’re not used to your oven AT ALL.

Cherry pies? Ruined.

Apple fritters? Apple crisps.

Chocolate chip cookies? Charcoal chip cookies.

Brownies? More like burnt brownie brittle.

Your process would be going so well until it was time to actually put your dessert in the oven and it was like your oven plotted against you.

You set the right temperatures. You pre-heated. You even placed things in the right part of the oven. How is it that everything goes wrong?

The only desserts that saw the light of day were the no-bake ones. You’re not sure how much more no-bake cheesecake you could take anymore.

The day that really sets it off is the day that you attempted to make a simple vanilla birthday cake. Your friend’s birthday was coming soon and you wanted to gift her one of those cute bento cakes.

Your icing is finished and delicious. You’ve been practicing the decorations all week and they were pretty cute! The cake just a few more minutes left to bake, then you could take it out to chill.

As you’re piping a bag of baby pink icing, you look up to see that the room is a little foggy. You turn in a panic and notice puffs creeping from the oven.

“No, no, no!!!” you cry as you turn to open it.

You can’t do anything but cough as a ton of smoke hits you in the face.

Your cake on fire. Orange and yellow light illuminating the oven.

You panic as the fire seems to grow brighter once it hits the air.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god!”

Where was your fire extinguisher? You tried fanning at fire with a towel, but to no avail. You couldn’t even get to the knobs to switch the oven off.

You step back, terrified. You felt like sobbing watching the flames take over. Why aren’t the sprinklers on?

By the time you run out of your house, the fire alarm decides it can sing its tune. You call 911 with a shaky voice, hoping they can get here faster than your alarm decided to make itself known.

You stand outside peeking through your eyes as you could see the flames grow near your kitchen window.

Thankfully the firetruck makes it in time, the firefighters working quick to get inside.

One of them asks is anyone else inside and you shake your head no, thankful that it was just you.

It doesn’t take long for them to put it out and come back outside.

“Are you ok?,” one of them comes to ask you. You look up to this tall, dark, and handsome man. He’s sweating a bit obviously from the summer heat and the fire as he takes his helmet off. His hair is curly and dripping. You ogle him a bit, watching his chest move up and down.

“Do we need to call you an ambulance?” he says, placing a heavy hand on your shoulder.

“Oh! No! So sorry, I’m still a little…winded from everything,” you say, embarrassed.

“Ok, well as long as you’re fine. Do you mind telling me what you were doing?” he asks.

You cast your eyes down. Here was such a fine man standing before you and you had on pajamas and a frilly maid apron with flour splattered on top.

“I was trying to make a birthday cake. As we can see, it completely failed,” you reply. “I don’t know what happened. I followed every instruction. The oven was set at 350 degrees.”

He tilted his head at you as you whined away.

“Is this the first time that something like this has happen?”

You shake your head no, “This is the 3rd burnt dessert in a week.”

“Hm. Well I’ll have the crew here check it out.”

An hour and some change later, one of the firefighters tells you and the tall glass of water, who learn is a captain named Miguel, that you have a damaged gas line.

“You’re really lucky that you were only getting blackened sugar. One more cake and that could have been the end,” Miguel says to you with hand on his hip and another on your shoulder. “And also, never open the oven if there’s a fire. If this happens again, turn the oven off and wait until it dies down.”

You felt your head nodding, heart beating at how awkward everything felt.

Miguel looked down at you again, “Do you have anywhere you can stay over night? Or until I can get someone up here to get this gas fixed?”

“My grandma lives a couple of streets down,” you say, cheeks heated at his intense eye contact.

“Tell you what, how about you settle there for the night and I’ll come back personally to help you grab your belongings tomorrow morning?”

“That would be amazing! Thank you so much. I’m sorry for all of this,” you gesture to your house.

“It happens. Nothing you did here was your fault. Besides, I’m the captain. Fighting fires is what I do. Now, how about a ride in the truck to your grandma’s?”

You feel giddy when he practically pulls you in the truck. No seats are left so you have to settle for sitting on Miguel’s lap, heartbeat racing.

The other firefighters try to hide their smirks and snickers watching their captain hold you so softly in his arms. One big bump in the road has you clinging to him to not fall off.

You straighten back up, embarrassed by the little slip. Miguel chuckles at your actions.

You pretend not to hear their wolf whistles as he guides you to your grandma’s front door.

Miguel knocks firmly, waiting with you until she opens it.

She’s about to fuss at you for not stopping by sooner until she looks up at Miguel.

“And who is this?” she says, a bit shocked.

“My name is Captain O’Hara. I just wanted to drop your grandbaby off. Had a little baking accident.”

Your grandma listens to Miguel as he explains the situation calmly and professionally. It doesn’t stop her from fussing over you, grabbing and turning you to check for any damage.

“I’m ok grandma. I just have to stay here while my gas gets fixed.”

She thanks Miguel profusely, “Son, what’s your favorite food? I’ll have it made and sent down there for you.”

Miguel laughs heartily. You’re about to tell him he doesn’t have to answer that until he beats you to it.

“Whatever your specialty is, I’ll take it,” he says with a sweet smile on his face and holding your grandma’s hands.

“Cap! We gotta another fire at the college dorms. Someone burnt noodles in the microwave again,” a firefighter yells from truck.

“Well if you all can excuse me, duty calls!” he says and runs back to the truck.

“I can’t believe you burnt a cake! Haven’t I taught you better? And you know you’re making him that food, right?” your grandma says as you step inside.

“Grandma,” you say, affronted. “It was the oven, not me! And he might not want to even eat what I make after this.”

“Hmph,” she says, with a click of her tongue. “Well, you better get ready to use this kitchen here. You need that man as a husband.”

“Grandma.”

“I have some ham hocks in the freezer, some turnip and mustard greens. I think the church sent me some potatoes. We need to go to the store too. You gotta get him through his stomach.”

“Grandma!”

There was a silence as you and your grandma stared at each other.

“So are you thinking pork chops or catfish to go with the side dishes?” she said, grabbing a pencil and an empty envelope.

You just groaned and crumpled in your chair.

divider by: @benkeibear ❤️‍🔥

the grandma convo is heavily inspired by my own grandma lol. tagging @miguelhugger2099 @kit-and-wolfe @huniedeux @ugh-ok-fiyn because I want y’all to see this 😗

[kitchenisking]

Things To Do On The Dates You Aren't Having by lielabell - (Rating: Mature, Words: 5,557)

"So are we dating now or what?" Stiles asks the third time he finds himself doing the obligatory postcoital cuddling with a certain sour wolf.

the engagement by bibliosexual - (Rating: G, Words: 1,595)

“Stiles,” Derek growls the next morning, “why did Wanda just call me to congratulate me on my engagement to you?”

“Uh, because we are engaged?” Stiles tries. “We’re having a spring wedding with two flavors of cake, or did you forget? By the way, you still need to buy me a ring.”

Hypothetically Speaking by KaliopeShipsIt - (Rating: Not Rated, Words: 2,916)

“Soooooo, Daddy-O. Hypothetically speaking. Do you think you could potentially see yourself loving a magical werewolf grandbaby rather unexpectedly begotten via the carnal jubilation that is one man shoving his dick up another guy’s ass?”

Textual Promise by Areiton - ( Rating: Explicit, Words: 1,828)

Derek stares at the text for a long time before he goes for a run. Because this? From Stiles? This isn't something they do. 

He still says 'ok'.

My Sea to Your Shore by Aquila_Star - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 66,178)

The setting was idyllic, but when he looked down at the poor animal caught in the trap, struggling for its life and its freedom, he saw only how its desperation mirrored his own, the trap he was caught in just as unforgiving. Unlike the rabbit, Derek's trap was not the result of random bad luck. It was a trap of his own making.

As he headed back to the house, he couldn't help but wonder if there was someone who could wrangle him from his trap, and whether he would survive to see his freedom.

kids say (and do) the darndest things by EvanesDust  - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 7,787)

Have kids, they said. It’ll be fun, they said. ...or the one where Stiles and Derek's kids had no shame.

Nothing's Ever Worth it if it Doesn't Scare You by In_Over_My_Head  - (Rating: Mature, Words: 3,707)

Running had become his default reaction to Scott. Whenever he had a stupid plan or didn’t listen, mostly whenever his moronic actions put the pack in jeopardy…again. Stiles ran now, ran because he knew that if they did what Scott wanted someone would get hurt. They’d just gotten Kira back and now Scott wanted to put her in danger by fighting something without all the information. 

He knew Argent would try and help, to change Scott’s course of action, but it wouldn’t work. Maybe, since Cora was back, Peter might show up too. Sometimes he could get through to Scott. The problem with that was Peter always had an ulterior motive, and Stiles only figured it out half the time. Peter was dangerous, but Scott didn’t seem to get that either. God he missed Derek, missed knowing there was someone that would listen, that would get what he meant and actually try to help.

I know what you did Last Hot Girl Summer by Arver7 - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 6,908)

Stiles thinks he wants a Hot Girl Summer after a break-up. What he gets is definitely a hot girl summer and so much more.

"good boy" by quackquackcey - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 10,807)

Stiles doesn’t think his senior year can get any worse with his best friend turning rabid every full moon, until he finds himself stuck with a massive black wolf overnight that doesn’t even like jerky.

But on the bright side, the hot guy with the half-dying sister he met at the gas station seems to be in town for a bit, so there’s still a chance that his senior year, his supposed best year of high school, isn’t a complete lost cause…right?

That is, if he can manage to juggle the sassy wolf that he takes care of at night and the hot guy that asked him out on a date for some reason.~ 🐺

Finders Keepers by inhystereks - (Rating: G, Words: 3,340)

“Sorry, I know I’m kind of staring, but she didn’t tell me you were so good-looking,” Stiles babbled, wanting to hit himself even as the words left his mouth.

“She,” the guy said, something in his expression shifting. “Laura.”

“No,” Stiles replied with a frown. “Lydia. Who’s Laura?”

“My sister,” the guy said, brows furrowed once more. “Who’s Lydia?”

“My best friend,” Stiles said.

[shewki]

"if we were to do a hear me out cake right now who would u put" you ask ur scrumptious boyfriend Katsuki. He eyes you judgingly and paused on writing an essay he was working on.

"The fuck type of question is that?" He grumbles and proceeds to think about what he'd add to his essay. Ok, the question was stupid but it was silly and funny so there's no harm... you think.

You sit up from his bed and hummed to think about your own answer even if he didn't even ask "hm.. but if I were to answer.. hear me out.." You pause, grabbing his attention but he won't look at you. He knew bringing you to his room while working on his homework was a bad idea.. now look at you asking stupid questions (affectionately)

"you know Clay Calloway from the movie 'Sing'?" he stops his motion and turns to you with an even more judgy look.

"What the fuck, Y/n?" he asks with an almost disturbed tone.. Lets be honest, who wouldn't react like that? a damn lion from a movie- not to mention a fictional one? But you continue to look at him as if it was a casual thought.. which was insane to him. He knew you were insane but not this insane.

"You really cant be judging right now, Kats. Whenever we rewatch big hero 6 I see you attentively watching when Aunt Cas shows up on screen."

"NO I DO NOT" he drops his pen, facing you now with red ears and a disbelief look at your accusation.

"why so defensive then" you squint your eyes as if you were trying to push his buttons on purpose. You probably weren't.. or you were.. but either way, you were an annoying little thing.

"Thats not even half as bad as yours!" He scoffs, rolling his eyes at your antics. "At least im not a furry"

"HEY IM NOT" you respond with a bewildered tone.

"A lion. From the movie 'Sing.'" He reminded.

You try to ignore his statement and your eyes light up again with a dumb thought "OUHH I have another one.. how about.. Stuart from minions and the closet robot from barbi-"

"SHUT UP!"

GUYS THIS IS A JOKE,,.... please back me up 🙏🏻 also sorry if its still a bit lacking! i made this for funsies bc i thought it was funny HHAAHAH and I'm still trying to improve my writing style after not being able to write properly for years 😭 but i hope the thought and idea makes up for it! <3 love you

[magikdarkholme]

ooohhh ok hear me out…what abt joaquin and reader at like a arcade or fair and they make a bet on how many tickets/prizes they can win. just fluff galore yknow!!

(ps this is tea—tumblr won’t let me ask on my other acct.😭😭)

— Ringpops and Clawmachines

pairing - Joaqín Torres x fem gf!reader

summary — Joaquin and gf!reader go on an arcade date. Maybe J lets her win, or maybe reader is just better at him (its the latter)

warnings - pure fluff!!!, established relationship,

notes — i forgot i had this in my drafts so im finally posting lolll!!! here you go tea :) hope this is what you wanted bb <3

masterlist

You barely stepped one foot onto the fairgrounds before Joaquín was tugging your hand, eyes sparkling like he was a kid again.

“Arcade first,” he said with mock urgency. “Before the cotton candy coma sets in.”

You laughed, fingers laced tightly with his. “Are you trying to distract me before I destroy you in ticket count again?”

“Destroy me?” he gasped. “Mi amor, you got lucky last time.”

“Lucky? I outscored you in Skee-Ball and beat your sorry butt at air hockey.”

“That was a technical glitch,” he muttered. “The puck had a vendetta.”

You leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Excuses, Torres. Just admit your defeat like a good boyfriend.”

He made a dramatic show of being wounded before shoving a game card into your hand. “Fine. Rematch. Same deal. Winner gets bragging rights and gets to pick the prize we take home.”

You squinted at him. “Loser buys snacks?”

“Obviously.”

You bumped shoulders. “Hope you brought your wallet, flyboy.”

The arcade glowed with neon lights, the air full of the beeps, buzzes, and explosions of pixelated warfare. You and Joaquín hit every game like a mission: Skee-Ball, Whack-a-Mole, hoops, racing sims. He tried to look all serious and tactical, squinting like he was on an actual op—but every time you glanced over, he was grinning.

He absolutely flopped at the claw machine. Again.

“Why is it always this one?” he asked, staring at the stuffed banana plushie that had slipped from the claw’s grip at the last second. “I had it.”

You giggled. “It knew you weren’t ready for the responsibility of banana parenthood.”

He snorted, bumping your hip with his. “One more try.”

He failed. Again.

“Babe, I think the claw hates me.”

“It’s okay,” you teased, wrapping your arms around his waist. “I love you enough for both of us.”

He melted right there, smile softening as he kissed your forehead. “That’s not fair. You can’t say cute things in the middle of my emotional downfall.”

At the basketball hoops, he bounced back. Literally.

He landed every shot with precision, flexing like a goof and mouthing, “Get on my level,” while you booed dramatically and tried to sabotage him with a tickle to the ribs.

At Dance Dance Revolution, it was chaos.

He was all limbs, bouncing to the beat like a man possessed, while you tried to keep up through gasps of laughter. The machine awarded you a “C” and him a “D,” which sparked a very loud (and extremely incorrect) debate about the scoring algorithm.

“Clearly rigged,” he said, hands on his hips.

“You fell off the pad twice.”

“I was giving the crowd a show!”

“No one was watching except that four-year-old eating popcorn.”

“He was watching respectfully.”

Eventually, you both collapsed onto a bench near the prize booth, game cards drained, ticket stacks stuffed in your pockets, sleeves, and your tote bag.

Joaquín slumped beside you, leaning his head against your shoulder.

“Okay,” he murmured. “Tally time. You ready to admit defeat?”

You pulled out your ticket pile and laid it on your lap. “Count 'em, Torres.”

He stared. Then groaned. “Nooo.”

You grinned. “What’s the damage?”

He held up his smaller pile, dramatically tossing a few on the ground. “By like sixty! This is sabotage.”

“You picked the Dance Dance game.”

“And you picked my heart,” he sighed, collapsing sideways across your lap.

You laughed, brushing a hand through his hair. “Nice try, but that’s not getting you out of funnel cake duty.”

“Worth a shot,” he mumbled, turning just enough to kiss your stomach lightly before sitting up again. “Alright, what prize do we want, champ?”

You both ended up choosing a pair of matching plush dogs and some candy rings for the walk home. He made a whole thing out of fake-proposing to you with a ring pop in front of the booth attendant, who gave you both a slow clap and a sarcastic “congrats.”

“Next time, real ring,” Joaquín whispered to you as you walked away, slinging his arm over your shoulders. His voice was soft now, warmer than the summer breeze around you.

Your heart did a whole somersault, but all you said was, “Only if it comes with more cotton candy.”

“Done.”

[cultven]

hii i love reading yor fics sososo much T_T<333

I'd like to request a fic where Logan dreams that he hurts the reader, almost killing them. The reader notices that he's having a nightmare and wakes him up, he's disoriented and in panic, but when he realized what just happened he is incredibly relieved to see that reader is ok and alive. Maybe he even breaks down and cries, which really shocks the reader cuz they arent used to seeing Logan like this 🥺 Then the reader comforts him and takes care of him until he's back asleep.

As It Should Be

Wolverine X Reader

Content: Comfort, crying, poor Logan cannot catch a break, but you're there to dig him out of his sadness hole, he loves you a lot, lots of fluff while comforting him

Word Count: 1.39k

Warnings: Some graphic violence during the nightmare segment

a/n: Thank you for the kind words! This one honestly got a little graphic in terms of gore, but nothing too bad, so hopefully that’s ok! This was fun to write, enjoy!

No. What had he done? 

Logan stood in a pile of debris and rubble, his white tank top and jeans now caked in blood that wasn’t his. Claws refusing to retract, Logan felt utterly hopeless against his own body. His actions weren’t his own as he trudged towards the only person left alive; you. You were scared, that much was clear by your facial expression and hasty movements to crawl backward away from the mutant. 

“Logan… this isn’t you, please.” You plead, eyes darting around the scene to find help, anyone that is still alive or conscious. All you could take in was the decimated mansion and the mauled corpses of your loved ones. What had taken over Logan? Why did he destroy the very things he risked his life for countless times? 

As Logan looked into your frightened eyes his heart clenched, knowing what was coming next. He just wishes he could stop it. Watching himself tear through his other family hurt like hell, but having to watch you die he didn’t think he could bear it. You were his entire world, the only thing that could ground him when he fell down the pits of self-destruction. He would forever kill himself before harming you. But this version of himself had other plans. 

He trudged over, claws glistening in the light of fire around them. “No, no no no…” You chant, still trying to escape the man but your legs are rendered useless due to your paralyzing fear. With one swift movement, Logan begins to tear through flesh and muscle, watching in horror as his hands mutilate his love against his will. You could do nothing but lay there, screaming in pain, your mutant ability keeping you alive for longer than you wanted to be. Logan wished he was the one being gutted. In a way, he was. Anyone else, anyone but you deserved his wrath. 

Tears clung tightly to his eyes as his hand retracted from your body, lining up for the final shot to the head. As the blade commences its soar towards your skull, Logan jolts up from a lying position and hastily takes in his surroundings. It was dark, he was under a blanket of sorts, and oh, he was in your bedroom. Had it only been a nightmare? No, it was far too cruel and realistic to have been. Even Logan’s mind wasn’t so callous to make him live through such a horror. So then, it must have been real? Logan begins to hyperventilate, raising his hands to eye level. His claws were away, and his rough skin was clean of blood. But, as he blinked, grotesque images flashed through his mind. Sick crimson blood, your blood, begins to stain his hands, drying in a disgusting reddish-brown. He immediately jumped out of bed, went into the ensuite bathroom, and scrubbed his hands raw. 

“No, no no no.” He chanted under his breath as he tried to scrape off the non-existent material. The cold water was not enough to ground him back to reality, Logan eventually gave up and put him back to the skin, sliding down towards the floor to cradle his head in his hands. Thanks to the sound of the water running in the bathroom and Logan’s hard footsteps, you eventually stir awake. At first, nothing seemed wrong, maybe he just had to use the bathroom. But after the sound of continuous water for five minutes you grew increasingly concerned. Deciding to confront the man you carefully walk up to the bathroom door and gently knock three times, not to startle him during whatever he’s doing. 

“Lo?” It was only one syllable, but your sweet voice saying his nickname out loud was enough to send Logan scrambling. The door eagerly burst open, and when it did the sight you were met with shocked your heart. There was Logan on the ground, clearly disheveled, eyes bloodshot and teary. “Oh baby, what happened?” You coo, going to take a step forward but immediately retreating seeing Logan flinch. 

“You’re- you’re real, right?” Logan tentatively asks, sounding scared. Of course, you were real, why wouldn’t you be?” 

“Yes, love.” You stay put in your place. You didn’t want to upset him further.

“No… I ripped you apart. You died by my hands.” You resist the urge to outwardly exclaim how ridiculous he sounded before realizing he more than likely had a nightmare. Logan was prone to bad dreams, but none ever shook him quite as much as this. The only good thing that came out of the consistent night terrors was that you now knew how to soothe him in times like these. 

“I’m right here my love. I’m not hurt. See? I’m perfectly okay.” Your voice stays calm and soothing, not wanting to startle him further. “Touch my hand. Feel my skin. I am right here.” Usually, the sensation of touch grounded him from this distressed state, but this time he seemed hesitant to even look in your direction. 

“I can’t. I might hurt you again.” Logan looked so small and it broke you. He was huddled into himself, still looking at you untrusting. The thought of himself harming you any further plagued his mind, twisting his stomach and making him want to vomit. You were his world, his everything. He curses his body for the immortality that was bestowed upon him because if anything happens to you he wants to follow right behind. 

Realizing you may seem intimidating due to the fact you’re standing tall over his curled-up body you lower yourself and sit criss-cross applesauce across from him. Putting your hand out in between your two bodies you silently sit there, waiting for Logan to take this at his own pace. After a few minutes, Logan seems calm enough to touch your hand. Fingertips only brush at first, then a loose handhold, then a firm grasp on each other. Before either of you knew it you were fully embracing, Logan nuzzling his head into your neck. He needed to take you in every sense, to prove this was real. His nose took in your intoxicating perfume, his hands gripped your curves, his ears heard your soft breaths release from your mouth, and when he pulled back his eyes took in the sight of you. You were as stunning as always even with your messy hair and tired eyes. You were real, you were here, and you were his. 

Seeing as your boyfriend has calmed down you decided to relocate to a more comfortable area. “Let’s get off this gross floor, okay love? Let’s go to bed.” You whisper, carefully tugging him along to your shared bed. Once you two got settled down you were instantly back in his strong arms, protecting you from the rest of the world. You thought all was said and done for the night until Logan spoke up. 

“You were so scared. I made you scared.” He hated seeing you that way. It hurt him. What hurt worse was that he was the cause of it. He now understands it wasn’t real, but your expression was so gut-wrenching he couldn’t shake it off. 

“Logan I know you would never hurt me on purpose.” You reassured him. “Except maybe when you squeeze me to death with your bear hugs.” Logan chuckled a little bit, your humor always lightens the mood. You lay in silence for a bit, almost dozing off until you hear a voice next to you. 

“Thank you for dealing with me.” You smile, leaning over and kissing the man gingerly on the cheek. 

“It’s what I signed up for my love. Besides, you could never be a bother to me.” He smiles back, a rare sight to anyone but yourself. “I love you, Logan.”

“I love you too.” With that resignation you two cuddle, arms and legs entangled with one another’s. Eventually, Logan is lulled back to sleep while listening to the steady beat of your heart. Instead of another nightmare, he is met with a blissful dream of the two of you living together on a mountain, away from all the violence and harm the world holds. Just as it should be. 

[gatorbites-imagines]

Ok so I know you said you have been unmotivated with smut lately, but you don't have to write this if you don't want to. But basically it's Scott summers x male reader where they are best friends, maybe they have some secret feelings that they have never confessed too. So male reader decided so bite the bullet and confess with out confessing, and is like " you know a few bounces on it never hurt a friendship", ( lol like the meme) and smut ensues.

Scott Summers x Mutant male reader

Headcanons

Readers got electrokinetic and magnetic powers, because I couldn’t think of anything original, and ice powers are already yoinked up by Bobby. So, ice cold head is gonna be saved for another day.

I feel like my Scott obsession shines through in this… enjoy some longer work

Feedback wasn’t the most original or coolest sounding name, but hey, it had been Scott’s idea, and you had a soft spot for him from the very beginning. So, Feedback it was. Seeing how Scott puffs up a little when you explain he came up with the name almost makes up for Logan picking on you for it.

Being great friends with Scott, makes most people assume you are a hardass like him. And yeah, you have your moments. You see how much Scott stressed about keeping everyone safe, as well as dealing with the US government and the likes, so yes, you take it seriously.

Your lightning powers lead you to also bond with Ororo, though you are not completely at her level. You cant control the weather, but you sure as hell can use electricity and lightning, and you’ve learned how useful it can be.

It took a lot of training, but who else can paralyze a person without it being lethal as easily as you can? Or fry most electronics or vehicles, even guns and other weapons? You are at least a little proud of your powers.

And maybe it has to do with the fact that Scott always seemed to preen, at least a little, with pride whenever you show how far you’ve come. You are the exact same with him, and your “broship” is kind of a thing in the X-men

To the point where the entire mansion, or island if its on Krakoa, get tense and start tiptoeing around when you two are fighting or arguing. Seeing you two not talking and avoiding each other is as uncomfortable as seeing Deadpool around, except its worse.

It always leads to some of the others, typically the younger mutants, trying to set up some kind of heist you get you two to get along again. Most of the times it fails, but the failure is what brings you together again, in a sense.

You also typically give Scott small zaps with your powers, to get his mind off whatever he’s too focused on. or the times where he lets you run light electricity through his muscles when they bunch up. Him groaning and huffing in relief is only an extra on top of the cake, since you already get to fondle his back.

Your feelings for Scott aren’t as much of a secret as you wish they were. Charles knew almost the very moment he met you. Apparently, you used to project your thoughts quite a lot, and he was growing tired of seeing your fantasies.

After that you got better at hiding. You especially worked hard to suppress and hide it when Scott got together with Jean. Yeah, it hurt your heart, but you never really thought you two would be more than bros.

But to show Jean some respect, you get less touchy and grabby with Scott. In the past you might have smacked his ass after training, or groped his pecs and arms, making some excuse about his gains. But with Scott in a relationship, it didn’t feel right.

Scott did the same thing with you, but… it was only because you did it first, right? So, its not like hed notice. Obviously, he does, Scott being so vigilant about the people around him means it takes him less than a month to be completely sure you’re avoiding him.

That doesn’t mean he says anything. Instead, he just kinda lets it stew. The relationship between you grows… tense in a way. Its not like you two are arguing, but you are trying to pull away enough to wash away whatever feelings you have, and Scott is sure you hate him for some reason, and he doesn’t know why.

In the end its actually Jean that confronts you about it, much to your embarrassment. She’s surprisingly kind about it, or you guessed it wasn’t surprising. Jeans an amazing woman, which was why it was no shock she swooped in and caught Scott’s heart.

Jean knows all about your feelings, but also Scotts. Scott loves her, very much so. But he loves you just as much, he just hasn’t realized it yet. Scott easily just pushes those feelings aside as platonic, or some deep loyalty to his best friend.

So, what if he sometimes has dreams about you holding him down and fucking him so hard he needs his visor, since his shades would be sent flying. Or his regular dream of you using small sparks of electricity to play with him.

But somehow Jean saves the situation. Being able to read minds is great, since it makes her feel safe and secure in her relationship, enough to know that you are both good men, and that you’d never act on your feelings with her in the picture.

This is how it continues for a while. Scotts with Jean, and you have some flings of your own. Over the years you kind of have a thing with Logan, then Warren, and a kind of “ill scratch your itch if you scratch mine” with Remy when he and Anne Marie have their moments.

And yeah, maybe there’s a couple of others on that list that you don’t speak too much about it. Its not your fault Deadpool can be weirdly charming and handsome sometimes. And that one time with Magneto is not something you’ll ever mention, to anybody. You get a feeling Charles knows about it though. You have a feeling Magneto told him.

All in all, you never end up with a long lasting “official” relationship. Its kind of hard to give your heart to someone else when Scott still has his name printed across it in big letters. You’re not like Scott, whose heart is big enough to fit multiple people

What you have with other people is always just casual and never means anything. Well, you do get closer to Logan. Its… a weird situation. He still has a thing for Jean, and you have a thing for Scott, and you help each other out when times get tough.

You thought Scott was gonna kill you when he caught you chewing on a cigar. It’s not like you were gonna smoke it, but seeing him huffing and puffing about you chewing on one of Logans cigars made your pants a bit too tight for comfort.

It really doesn’t help that Scott bulks up over the years. Logan may still call him slim, but there’s nothing slim about him. So, there might be more grope to the smacks you give his ass sometimes, how can you not, it’s so… grabble.

And you are always too distracted by his just… soft and big he is back there, hes even got butt dimples man. It means you never notice how Scott might just arch his hips back a little, or the way his thighs twitch when the excess electricity runs from your fingers into his skin.

Sure, him for thinking about those fingers inside him, its normal. He thinks. Its not his fault you have really nice hands, and the way electricity crinkles around your fingers is way too hot sometimes.

You once licked the electricity off your fingers, the sparks jumping from your fingers to your tongue. Scott knows its just for fun, or be a dick, but god does his front and back twitch think about it.

How you confess can happy in many ways. But the main factor is that Scott and Jean are no more. Maybe shes died, like she does in some comics. Or maybe they just broke up since they grew apart.

But one way or another you just confess. Maybe its after one of your rolls in the hay with Logan, and Scott finally doesn’t have Jean to redirect his attention too and his jealousy boils over. It leads to an argument, with you just spilling that you slept about because you couldn’t have him.

It hurts, after the confession leaves you. You’ve kept it tight inside you for years at this point, and seeing Scott just freeze up makes you feel even worse. You just get your keys into your hands with a flick of magnetic energy, before Scotts upon you.

The floors really uncomfortable, and the air is knocked out of your chest, especially as he places his bulk on top of you, Scotts hands on either side of your head.

Even with the visor giving off its usual red glow, Scott couldn’t get more handsome. The quiver in his lip and how he keeps nipping at its insides. “Scott…” you breath out, hands twitching at your sides, wanting nothing more than to settle on his nice, plush with muscle, hips.

Kissing Scott was everything you had ever imagined, and more. He tasted like the coffee hed been drinking, the brand you always hated but still bought because it was Scott’s favorite. The one he would always brew too strong, and never add any sugar or creamer too.

And yet, as his tongue rolled against your own, you couldn’t think of anything more delicious. It felt more like you two were trying to eat each other, to see who could devour the other one first after being starved for so long.

Any other time you might have been embarrassed about how wet and slick your kissing was, and just how loud it was. It seemed to ring through the empty room, Scotts hands already pulling at your shirt as you allow yourself to truly grope and feel that plump ass of his.

Youd touched Scott many times before. Hell, you’d even touched him naked here and there. But those times had been for medical reasons, or that one time to keep hypothermia at bay. This felt so much more intimate, so much… more.

The lamps in the room flickered as Scott pushed himself up to get fully undressed, your irises lighting up as you finally got to just stare. He was so hard, and with him standing above you he felt like a god, in his own way. You must have said this out loud, since Scott blushed and dragged you up.

It felt like being a virgin again, tumbling into bed and kicking off what clothes you had left on, hands groping and exploring. When it came to men, you had a lot more experience. You honestly only had experience with men.

That didn’t mean you almost didn’t bust on the spot when Scott sat himself down in your lap again, nothing between him and your cock. You couldn’t see it, but you could feel how his ass just draped around you, the smirk on Scotts lips so cocky you almost wanted to smack him.

With that thought, your body seemed to respond. Youd never really shot electricity from your crotch before, but the loud high-pitched yelp from Scott told you just that had happened.

You immediately wanted to apologize, fearing you had ruined the mood. A violent shudder ran through Scotts body, a deeper more guttural groan leaving his body as he rocked against you, precum spilling from him like a faucet. That had felt better than hed ever imagined.

The world felt like it was shrinking more and more until all you could think of was Scott Summers, and how felt against you. How he felt around your fingers as you stretch him open, and the loud wails of want he lets out, when you let the smallest flickers of electricity zap from your fingers to his prostate.

Youd always had a code of sorts, that your partner at least had to finish once, preferably twice, before you would enter them, or let them enter you. And with Scott it was so easy to wring them out of him. You almost wanted to just keep milking him for all he was worth.

Recognizing the look in your eyes, at least somewhat, had Scott tapping his foot against your tip, which was enough to remind you of how hard you really were, and how sensitive.

It gave Scott enough time to flip you onto your back, and with a recklessness you wouldn’t see from him every day, he just sank down on you.

All that working out made it easy for Scott to ride you, his thighs and hips working in harmony, his fingers digging into your pecs as you both groan and huff, letting out noises neither of you had ever let out before.

Kissing Scott as he rode you was a pretty name for it. in reality it was more just your open mouths pressed together as you both panted and drooled, tongues just rubbing together every now and then.

Having edged yourself until now meant you didn’t last long. As Scott shoved you over the edge your vision went white, and you had a feeling the popping noises you heard were the lightbulbs around the room.

It felt like Scott was draining your very soul of your body through your dick, his behind was diabolical. Part of you wanted to joke about him doing some other kind of training without telling you, but your teeth still felt like they were made of static, so all you could do was groan and gasp.

The high-pitched noises from Scotts mouth still registered to your fuzzy hearing, and the splatters of white against your torso made something inside you settle, knowing he had finished too.

The air was knocked out of your chest again as Scott slumped against you like a puppet getting its strings cut. The only noise in the room was the sound of your shared panting and wheezing, as well as the faint buzz of the ruined lightbulbs.

“you’re paying for that…” Scott finally mumbles breathlessly against the side of your neck. A snort leaves you, head still feeling like a thunderstorm and tv-static as you work your arms shakily around him. “Fine… but I’m picking the brand” you reply, voice slurred and tongue floppy in ways you hadn’t experienced in years.

Scott clearly wanted to laugh at your state, but he wasn’t much better himself. He couldn’t feel his legs, and it wasn’t completely because of the zap of electricity you’d sent through his entire body, as much as it was just how good it had felt.

You both needed to cool down, and maybe a nap. And then a good, long, cold shower. Scott lazily mentally noted down that he needed new sheets and lightbulbs, but not much else happened. For once his head felt blissfully silent, in the way only you could make it.

[chugging-antiseptic-dye]

⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ through your my our eyes 🔍(mingyu x reader)

contains: soulmate au, tooth-rotting fluff, soulmates to old married couple to friends to lovers, slight swearing, etc. a/n: happy birthday, mingyu <3

".....he is able to see one of Ae-sun’s poem’s published. It’s dedicated to Gwan-sik, telling him she will be OK after he dies. The poem ends with an expression of immense gratitude that uses the show’s Korean title: “My precious dearest, here’s to all you’ve been through." The story is all the more precious when you realize Gwan-sik and Ae-sun are not soulmates. Brick by brick they built up their love into a wonderful shelter for their loved ones to rest their wings on. Maybe we, who are used to exchanging our souls with our destined one; we, who know who we are meant to be with, will never ever understand a world where if soulmates do exist, they are not found, they are made (by choice)." - An Excerpt from the Time Magazine on the ending of 'When Life Gives You Tangerines'

Kim Mingyu did not want a soulmate. He has a great life, amazing friends, a job he loves, and the best family. What would he even do with a soulmate? And yet, when he felt his soul shifting from his body to theirs, he couldn't stop himself from being a bit excited. Who did the universe choose for him? And why?

The din of the house party was muffled to him as Mingyu sat at the corner of the balcony. "It's my birthday today". Why did he text that? It's been two days since their souls were exchanged for a few minutes. Well, one day sixteen hours but who is counting? Just as he had given up hope of getting a reply, a ting from his phone raised his hopes up. "happy birthday lover boy. hope you had some cake". He should scoff at this. How generic. No, it was not him who was grinning like a cat who got the cream. He was a dog. A golden retriever. Not some ally cat.

Most of his friends jumped into the rabbit hole of falling in love as soon as they exchanged their soul with their soulmates. While, on the other hand, Mingyu was fumbling. How do you connect with someone when you don't know what to say? His nickname maybe 'motor mouth' but the motor had an engine failure every time he opened his chat with her. A few minutes of having his soul whooshed into her body isn't enough to get to know her. So, Mingyu started doing what he does best when he doesn't know what to do: he finds a solvable problem. She likes kimchi and is too lazy to make her own? Boom! He makes her homemade because his mother's recipe is obviously superior to whatever readymade kimchi is in the market. She hates putting away her work stuff? Okay, no problem. He can sort them out and make it easier for her to find where she left off. A bit of cleaning, lighting some candles to bring out a cozy vibe, dimming the room, setting up her blanket and pillows exactly how she loves it. He can do all of these. And if it makes him feel a bit giddy inside to imagine her burrowing herself into the blanket and drifting off while watching the latest netflix series, its a secret that that he taking to the grave.

Look, Mingyu doesn't need to be protected. He is a big seix foot guy with biceps bigger than most people's head. And he is used to being teased by the guys. So, when she possessed his body and fell back first into the pool because of a stray basketball to the face, it was nothing new for him to be the butt of every joke made by the guys. it's was kind of irritating but he can just ignore it. However, the mind-blowing moment was when Jeonghan and Hoshi came by to apologise to him. He tried everything to make them spill what she did for a once in a lifetime thing to happen but they would not budge. Again, Mingyu doesn't need protection or to be coddled. It was nice though. It felt nice to know that someone got his back. Even if he doesn't need it. Especially, when he doesn't need it.

Mingyu knows he can be a lot. He is too loud, too tactless, too demanding. Yet, he never feels that way when he talks to her. His every word were given undivided attention. His texts were never left on seen. He felt valued. he felt that he was a person worth knowing. he felt that being himself was enough. Mingyu had a few ex girlfriends and boyfriends. But they never made him feel that being Mingyu, the human was enough. He was always Mingyu, the loving partner or Mingyu, the popular guy or Mingyu, the hot boyfriend. Love and respect were depended on his value; what he could bring to the table. With her, Mingyu had to think that his worth was conditional. Maybe, just the universe didn't choose soulmates to fix their worse half. Rather, maybe soulmates are people who can help you love yourself.

“.....I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.” - An Excerpt from Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

dividers from @strangergraphics-archive and @saradika-graphics

[landossnorriss]

for the drabble, how about lando with an asthmatic reader?

pairing | ln x asthmatic!reader wc: just a drabble an: ohh this is cute! i did a little research to make sure that this was ok but i just wanted cute fluff!

it was all fun and game dating an f1 driver until he had an adrenaline spike following a race and enough stamina to chase you around the the house. your giggles were loud as you scrambled over the back of your joint couch and out of his reach. this game wouldn't last forever, you were going to run out of steam sooner or later and you hoped that your lungs could hold out until he had blown of enough of his energy.

"oh parkour huh?" lando beamed as he happily chased you over the sofa, his hands missing your sweater by just a fraction this time. honestly neither he nor yourself should have found this game so amusing but when you had swiped the last bite of the cake you'd had ready following his win, you had known that you were going to set him off.

you were doing well, even if the wheezing had started but you should have known that heading for the stairs would tip you over the edge and half way up the tightening in your chest followed by a burst of coughs brought you to a halt, a groan mixed with defeat sounding through your coughs as you tried to steady yourself, accepting defeat as lando's arms wrapped around you. "got you baby." the driver beamed down at you before he really took in your face. lando knew you had asthma, he'd always been great with it and looking at your face now he knew that he'd pushed you too far. "shit sorry baby, wait there." unravelling himself from you lando pushed his way up the rest of the stairs at alarming pace leaving you on the stairs but he was back in a matter of moments, the inhaler in his hand ready for you. "here... you good to hold it?"

it wouldn't be the first time he'd had to help you but you shook your head, reaching for your device you wished away the worry on his face, no matter how many times he'd done this with you he couldn't help but feel concerned over you. taking your inhaler you sunk back into the wall for a moment, your eyes closing as you felt it work its magic, your breathing slowly but surely returning to normal. feeling body heat invade your space you opened an eye to find lando sunk down to your step, hands reaching for your face and a small smirk playing across his lips.

"what?" he had that look on his face that meant you know he was about to say something troublesome.

"nothing...just." lando paused for a second and when he was sure your breathing was steady enough he reached across to press his lips to yours. "glad i get to be the one to take your breath away." the joke was cheesy and earned him a slap in the chest from you but you were quick to return his kiss, arms wrapping around his neck. "it's a good job i love you lando norris."

[kinamiiii]

Wasn’t sure what to do with these pictures until now, cuz they’ve been rotting my brain since I saw them. So here’s what!

Taste Test 🧁

Pair: DBF!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: Your dad is out for the afternoon and you and his best friend, Bucky, help make a special treat whilst finding something to occupy your time until he returns for his birthday.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, partly proofread, Modern AU, reader in her early 20s, DBF!Bucky in his early 40s, so age gap basically, somewhat desperate Bucky, innocent reader, fluff, smut, in the kitchen, finger sucking, oral (f receiving), fingering, cum eating, slight aftercare.

a/n: My first Bucky fic ever! Please do tell me what you think about it in the comments, I’d really appreciate the feedback. Especially since I don’t wanna mischaracterize someone like him ok. Also if these kinds of fics are not in your wheelhouse, please avoid for your own sake. 🙏🏽

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Bucky watched over Steve’s house while he was out doing a last minute errand for the afternoon. You as Steve’s daughter, were still at home, innocent and damn near sweet like sugar, making Bucky feel immensely guilty from the immediate lustful imagination his mind had presented to him once he saw you.

You haven’t known Bucky for very long, in fact, this was the first time you had ever seen him since he decided to pay your dad a visit today for his birthday, on the 4th of July. When he laid his eyes on you, he thought you were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen in a long time. Wearing your short, baby blue pleated sundress, protected with a white frilly apron and matching flat shoes, standing over a full tray of freshly baked, plain, red velvet flavored cupcakes on the counter, ready to be frosted. You held the piping bag, filled with red and blue butter cream, firmly over each tiny cake, icing them in thick perfect swirls.

Bucky was stood leaning against the doorframe while he watched you work with full concentration. However, your head snapped to the left as the sound of him clearing his throat entered your ears. You gave the brunette man a grin before getting back to your cupcakes. He stepped closer to the counter top, crossing his broad plaid sleeved arms over his chest as he looked over to the white sprinkles you had set aside in a small glass bowl. “Need any help with those?” You lifted your head again as you heard his sincere tone of voice, meeting his gaze with wide eyes. You then glanced over to the direction his head nodded in, gesturing towards the bowl. “Oh, sure! You can use them on the first half while I finish ice the rest,” you replied cheerfully and shuffled your feet to give Bucky some room next to you. He reached over and picked up the bowl of sprinkles with one hand, whilst taking a pinch of the white topping and started decorating the desserts.

Once you had been done icing the last cupcake, you placed the piping bag down and watched as the tall, beefy man added the hundreds and thousands over the other half of the sugary batch. You let out a giggle at the expression that graced his features, wrinkling his forehead from the intense focus. “Y’know, I never thought I’d see someone give so much attention to a few tiny cakes with a few sprinkles.” Bucky’s face quickly softened with parted lips to respond. “Well, I mean, they are for your dad after all. It’s his day and it’s only right that these look the part,” he said with a slight playfulness. “You made these all by yourself?” He asked you as he added the last few sprinkles and set the bowl back to the counter.

“Mhm! Luckily they were already in the oven before dad left. Can’t have the old man seeing his surprise.” You laughed nervously and fiddled with your fingers before stepping towards the refrigerator. You then open one of its doors, gesturing with your hand for the man to place the cupcakes on the available shelf inside. He followed suit and you closed the door gingerly, keeping the desserts nice and chilled until your father was ready to return home. You reached both your arms behind your neck, pulling the ribbon of your apron loose from its knot. You were about to do the same for the one at the back of your waist, when you felt a presence swiftly move behind you. “I-I can get this one for you, sweetheart.” Bucky’s fingers latched onto the tails of the knot, hesitating to pull them as he realized where his current position was. As he was stood so closely to you, his nostrils were pleasantly blessed with the scent of your lavender perfume, his eyes had been locked on the curves of your waist through your tantalizing dress, and the plumpness of your rear just centimeters away from his crotch.

He exhaled sharply and quickly regained focus, finally pulling the knot apart. The apron came off your body and you promptly folded it and placed it in one of the cabinets below. You gave the man a quick “thank you” and your lips curved into a smile that could make his heart stop. “Y-yeah, no problem,” he stuttered and took some steps away from you. You turned your head to the piping bag that you had set aside, picking it up and squeezing a dollop of the red and blue mixed butter cream onto the pad of your pointer finger. Then, you stuck that same finger between your lips, moaning softly as the sugary goodness melted on your tongue. Bucky watched on, hopelessly wishing that he could hear you sound just as adorable if you got a taste of him in your mouth.

God, it’s illegal how purely cute you are.

“You wanna have a taste? I promise it’s really good! Made it with a lot of love.”

Fuuuuuck!

He nodded eagerly and you gave the plastic bag a good squeeze onto your finger again, closing the distance between you and him and inching the icing to his mouth. “Say ahh,” you said, prompting him to part his lips and let your finger in. He did just that and groaned, allowing himself to drown in its delectable flavor that had luckily been mixed with hints of your own saliva. His cheeks became flushed and hot as he sucked around your knuckle for a good minute, being sure to get every last bit of cream before releasing it. “Hehe, must have really done a good job then. Looks like you love it,” you giggled as you pulled your hand back to you, daring yourself to try more of the icing.

“Are you kidding? Good job? Sweetheart, that was amazing! Your dad’s gonna love this, I know it!” His compliment went straight to your heart, making it flutter in your chest. “Tha-thank you, Mr. Barnes! I guess now we wait until he gets back so we can all eat his surprise together.” The way you said his formal name so considerately sent his blood rushing all the down to the pole in his jeans, fortunately then being baggy enough to hide the evidence of his arousal out of your sight. You propped yourself to sit on top the kitchen counter, eating more butter cream to satisfy your sweet tooth. A chuckle escaped Bucky’s throat as he folded his arms and stood inches away from your side. “Honey, are you trying to get cavities? I’m surprised you haven’t gotten any at all, with how already sweet you are and all.”

Your face flamed with heat, making you clear your throat and gulp, shaking your head in a bit of denial. “It’s fine honestly. Like I said, I made it with lots of love! And a person can’t get enough of that, right?”

You’re made with a lot of love too, doll face~

Bucky nodded to your words with his eyes soon getting distracted as they traveled all over your sat body. He caught on to the bit of cleavage that peaked from your wide neckline, and stopping at the short skirt of your dress that rode up half your thighs, revealing their plush, squishy skin as they were shut together. Then without really thinking about it, he moved himself and stood in front of you. Your eyes widened with your finger being trapped between your teeth mid suck from another portion of your cupcake icing. He then drew his face near yours with little gap separating you from him, and both his strong arms caging your petite form inside as he held the edge of the marble counter.

He looked down at you, with a hunger deep in his hooded stare as he urged himself to speak with confidence. “I bet you taste even better though, doll,” he smirked. “So pretty and delicate, and filled with… love, aren’t you?” You readily yanked your finger out your mouth to try and answer him, but nothing left your vocal cords once you parted your trembling lips. You were so surprised at his sudden mood change, but not completely unsettled by it. His closeness felt strangely comfortable, yet bursting with an hot arousing aura that you couldn’t get away from even if you tried. “I-I… Mr. Barnes..?” Bucky subtly sucked and bit the bottom of his lip as his name was spoken in your voice again, almost clawing at the counter’s edge with his nails to ground himself.

“Oh, sweetheart, I know I’ve only met you just today but I’m already obsessed.” He leaned forward, his lips lightly grazing your pair and slowly pulling the piping bag you still held away from your grasp. He then paused, almost as if he was waiting on your approval. His hand gradually brought itself up to the back of your neck, holding it with care as it were glass not meant to be broken. Your expression softened as you felt his warm palm against your tender skin and stared at him in the eyes. You hadn’t even realized your body moving on its own once you finally planted your lips onto Bucky’s. Both your orbs fluttered shut along with his, kissing each other slowly but passionately. You let out a little squeak as you got intruded by his thick, whirling tongue, slipping between your lips and teeth to play with your own, and tasting the lingering flavor of the previously eaten butter cream in your mouth. With a slight tilt, your head leaned into his palm once it cupped your cheek, and the moans you had kept so silent, managed to escape into the brunette’s mouth, causing him to groan and deepen the heated kiss further.

Your thighs instinctively spread apart and your hands reached for his biceps, pulling his body snugly between your legs. The two of you shortly pulled away to catch your breath, still holding onto one another whilst gazing into each other’s souls. You were about to say something when Bucky stopped you dead in your tracks. “So… looks like I was right. You do taste better,” he chuckled and gave you a peck on your nose. He gently held your chin up in his index finger and thumb. You wanted to turn your face to hide your burning embarrassment but he wouldn’t let you. “If you don’t mind me asking, doll, when’s your dad comin' back, hm?” Bucky nipped at your jawline, trailing his teeth down your sensitive neck to earn more of your needy whines.

“When he left, h-he… he said he’d be ba-back in two hours,” you stuttered in response. The man briefly checked his gold wristwatch, smirking to himself as he found enough time to have his fill of you. Just about an hour left to be exact. Just enough to taste more of you. It wasn’t very long before Bucky sunk down to his knees, having you jolt astonishingly while he spread your thighs even wider with his large hands, revealing to him your silk panties shielding away your most vulnerable area. He lifted two of his fingers and lightly rubbed at your protruding wetness through the silk. He then moved his fingers away and leaned in closer, sticking his wide tongue freely and pressed it onto your clothed cunt. You yelped and grabbed hold of the marble counter’s edge, thinking to yourself how much more of his boldness could you possibly handle.

He made a few more kitten licks before hooking his finger in the crotch of your panties, pulling them to the side to expose you sopping pussy out to the open. A shiver unsurprisingly passed through you as the cool air hit your entrance. You looked down at him as he physically shuddered at the sight of you, practically marveling at the gorgeous flower that blossomed between your legs, tempting him with your dripping nectar. Bucky’s fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs and he lunged his mouth onto your hardened bud, lapping at it and your hole with incredible vigor. “A-ahh, Mr. Barnes!” Your fingers ran through his brown locks and latched securely in your fist, along with your thighs squeezing around his head to keep him there.

The excessive flicks and subtle nibbles at your clit nearly sent you through the roof. The vibrations of his throaty grunting and the bristles of his heavy stubble grinding against your sex slowly turned your brain to mush. “Fuuuck, you taste so good, baby,” he muffled in your wet folds. “I don’t think I can ever get enough of you.” Bucky could feel his dick stiffen more than it already had been, twitching and leaking precum into his jeans just from being able to devour you whole. In his best friend’s own kitchen no less. The act was so filthy and deceitful but he couldn’t care less because he had you exactly how he wanted you. You arched your back and pointed your pedicured toes in your blue flat shoes as your squeals echoed throughout the room, shutting your eyes and pulling at his hair.

The heat built up ferociously under your skin as the knot inside you drew close to unraveling above him. Mouth gapping as you gasped for portions of air. By that moment, the starved brunette could tell that you were about to let loose, chuckling deeply and without warning, plunging two fingers inside you. Your eyes shot open at his sudden intrusion, feeling their quick, curling and scissoring motions along your spongy walls, occasionally nudging your good spot. “You’re so close, aren’t you, baby? Yeah? You wanna cum, don’t you, sweetheart?” You nodded your head aggressively, not trusting your own mouth to talk just yet. “You can… it’s ok. Just let go for me. Lemme savor you,” he cooed before having his tongue return to your throbbing pearl.

Taking his words to heart, the knot ultimately came loose and you came all over his greedy tongue. Bucky soon locked eyes with you as he relished in your extraordinary juices before parting ways with your aching cunt. You got a good look at how your cum glazed the hairs of his beard and his fingers, panting profusely with shaken legs. He quickly got off his knees and stood upright, teasingly sucking the slick off his digits in front of you. “Yup, I can definitely get used to this,” he commented smugly towards you. He watched you trying to catch your breath, stepping close and cupping your face in his hands. Your eyes glistened back at his steel blue ones as you exhaled deeply. “Doing alright, sweetheart? I didn’t break ya, did I?” You let out a giggle and shook your head, reassuring him that you were okay.

“Was I… really better than the butter cream?” You asked him curiously through your grin and a tilted head. He smiled back and pulled your face in for a deep, breathy kiss. The flavor of your cum still stuck on his lips and slobbering tongue, allowing you to have a proper taste of yourself from his mouth. “Hmmm, guess I am pretty good.” Bucky snorted out a laugh at your astounded reaction and reached his hands down to your waist, helping you get off the counter and fixing your panties back into their respective place. You patted the skirt of your sundress down and looked up at the man whose hair was partly disheveled from your hand’s pulling. You then raised your arms up and tried to fix his brown strands back into place. As you did so, he reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his chin clean, as though nothing had really happened.

“All better, just like new!” You cheered and he walked over to the kitchen sink to wash his hands. “We should probably clean up that counter too. Can’t have Steve raising his eyebrows at our… mess,” he suggested and clutched a few sheets of paper towels, handing you a spray bottle of disinfectant. You hummed in agreement and took the bottle, spraying the liquid onto the marble so he could wipe it down. Just as you both were cleaning up, you hadn’t noticed your dad coming through the front door until you heard his voice booming through the walls. “Hey guys! I’m back! Hope I didn’t miss out on anything!” You both froze on the spot and glanced at each other before you opened your mouth to answer back. “W-we’re in the kitchen, dad! And don’t worry, you haven’t missed a thing.” Bucky checked his watch and realized Steve had come back fifteen minutes early, assuming he must have gotten what he needed and rushed back home. Luckily, he arrived after the events of you and his best friend defiling his kitchen.

Talk about perfect fucking timing.

[diamond-rozie]

prompt 02: tim’s birthday present

Tim sat in his empty house at the empty dining table. The table was actually quite large; it had enough seats to sit at least 15 people. But there was just Tim there. 

His parents had promised and sworn up and down that they would come back in time for his birthday. He had everything planned out. He picked out the birthday cake, put on the candles, decorated, ordered his parents' favorite foods, his parents' favorite movie for movie night, popcorn the likes. But that morning, just when Tim was double checking to make sure everything was ready for the most perfect birthday ever, his parents had called to tell him that something really important had come up, and they wouldn’t be able to make it. Tim figured it was better than last year, at least they called this time. 

Tim stared down at the cake, the candles lit. He had heard online that people would make wishes on their birthday cake and blow it out. Tim thought that was a weird thing to do, but it wouldn’t hurt to try. 

What should he wish for? It would have to be something special that he doesn’t already have. Tim thought for a long moment, the candles bleeding into the frosting of the cake. 

A brother. 

Tim closed his eyes and put his hands together like he’s seen the other children to do in the cartoons. And Tim wished for a big brother. When he finally wished hard enough (whatever that meant) he opened his eyes and blew out what was left of the candles. 

Tim waited. What exactly was he supposed to do now? In the cartoons, everyone would celebrate and cheer and the birthday boy would open his presents. There wasn’t anyone to cheer for Tim, or any presents for him to open. 

Suddenly the house shook, and the loud sound of a crash sound came from the backyard. Quickly, Tim did the sensible thing and go check out what the noise was. That's what the characters always did in horror movies. 

In Tim’s backyard, there was what looked like a weird space ship that had crashed into his backyard. There wasn’t any fire or anything, but the spaceship looked pretty wrecked. Getting closer, Tim could vaguely make out that someone was inside the spaceship. Looking around, he saw what looked like maybe the handle. Tim couldn’t really tell. 

When Tim put his hand on it and tried to open it, something poked out mechanically and pricked his finger. He flinched back instinctively, caressing his finger tip.

“Recognized: Danny Fenton. System Override.” A robotic lady spoke. Who is Danny Fenton? As if to answer him, the space ship opened its hatch, and inside was an unconscious black haired teenager. “System Malfunctioning. Please Assis-” The robotic voice spoke again, before getting cut off as if the power had died. 

Suddenly, Tim remembered his wish. A big brother. 

This was Danny Fenton, and he was supposed to be Tim’s big brother

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When Danny woke up, he found himself in a very soft plush something. Something that definitely wasn’t the Spector Speeder. Alarmed, he sat up quickly to find that he didn’t recognize where he was at all. He also didn’t recognize the weird kid that was staging at him from two feet away. 

“Hi, I’m Tim. Timothy Drake.” The boy introduced himself almost business like. 

“Uh, hi Tim.” Danny responded awkwardly. “You got any idea where I am?” Danny sat up properly, moving the blanket (?) off of him and turned to face the weird and kinda creepy kid. 

“You’re in Drake Manor. Which is where I live.” He answered again. 

“Ok…ay” Danny nodded thoughtfully. “Any idea how I got here?” Truthfully, Danny hadn’t really been expecting an answer, but he still got one. 

“Because I made a birthday wish to have a big brother.” He answered in the same way he had answered the other question, very matter-of-factly. 

“Ok- Wait. What?” Danny asked, doing a double take at Tim. 

“You’re supposed to be my big brother, right?” Tim was starting to look a little hesitant, and as weirded out as Danny felt he couldn’t help but feel bad about the whole situation. 

“Where are your parents, Tim?” 

“There not home, because they had really important things to do for work.” 

Danny nodded. “Do you know when they’ll be back?” 

Tim shook his head. “They were supposed to come back today, because it’s my birthday. But they said they couldn’t make it.” 

Well, shit. Didn’t that sound awfully like Danny’s birthdays before he had given up on his parents showing up. At least he had Jazz. This kid looked like he was alone. 

Not liking the silence, Tim started fidgeting again. “So, are you gonna be my brother, then?” 

And what was Danny supposed to say, No? Besides, if he was really causing problems being in this random universe, then Clockwork would figure it out. 

Bonus: 

Danny sat at Tim’s dinner table, the kid looking at him radiating in excitement, each with a plate of stupid expensive pasta in front of them. “You said your name was Tim, right?” Danny started thoughtfully. Tim nodded, drinking up everything Danny said. “Well, first course of action as you, big brother. I need to give you a nickname.” 

Tim’s eyes sparkled at the prospect. “Like what?”

Danny tapped his chin exaggeratedly, “Hm… Tim, Tim.” Turing the name around while he absentmindedly twirled his fork between his fingers, Danny wondered what he should come up with. Suddenly, in a misplaced strength, Danny’s fork flew out of his hand. 

Before Danny could even say anything, “I’ll get you a new one!” Tim offered quickly. Getting up from his chair, his foot got tangled behind the leg of the chair and Tim fell quietly on the floor with an oof. 

Danny laughed at him. “You okay, Timbers?” He asked, getting up to check on the boy. 

“Yeah, I like Timbers.” Tim said, a bright smile on his face despite the blossoming bruise on his arm.

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