#this is a really funny ask for me actually

[moonshynecybin]

hiiiii i was gonna save this for their evil little joint bday week but i finished it and thought it would be fun to post... anyways around 2k of rosquez porn have fun i hope ya like it

“Are you Valentino Rossi?” Comes the question, sweet and eager, just to his right.

He looks over. The kid standing there is in a tight t-shirt and has a starstruck, too-big smile plastered across his handsome face. The kind of handsome Vale likes, dark hair, brown eyes, thick brows. It makes him shift on his stool, turning on the point of his elbow to face him, and open his legs a little. 

“Allora, that’s what they tell me,”

“Well,” The kid’s mouth stretches wider once he realizes he’s got Vale’s attention. He's thrilled. Perfect. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Vale ignores the question. This guy’s Italian is clumsy, thick in his mouth, and they’re at Mugello, so this is a bit strange. He raises an eyebrow and tugs on his earring, surveying him.

“You’re Spanish, no? You weren’t rooting for Lorenzo, maybe?”

The kid shakes his head, oddly confident. “No no, when I was young I liked Pedrosa, I wanted to be just like him.”

“Ah, Dani,” He says knowingly. This guy is short and Spanish, so that makes sense.

“Him, and you.” He adds on, and flushes prettily, pink on his cheeks, looking at Vale with a clean, incongruous sort of intensity. 

“Me, huh?” He stretches back and lets his eyes go half lidded, dragging up and down the kid’s body. “What's your name?”

“Marc,” he says, and brightens immediately, taking a seat next to Vale like he’s got permission, like he’s won something. He orders two shots of tequila without asking Vale what he likes. Jesus, he is young.

When he turns his overeager gaze back to Vale, a curl of hair flops into his face, bolting dark and inky down his forehead. Low light throws his cheekbones into sharp relief, and it’s striking. He's striking. Vale likes it. Marc licks his lips like it’s a habit. His hands are broad and his wrists are small, delicate, tapping jittery little patterns on the slab of the bar. His pinky is crooked, it matches Vale’s.

He takes him in.

“So, do you want to tell me why?” He asks.

“What?” Marc grins, surprised and confused and delighted.

“Tell me why.” Vale repeats, to watch the confusion deepen.

“Why, what?”

“Oh— why you like me, over Dani. And Jorge,” He adds like it’s an afterthought. It’s not.

“What, do you need an ego boost?” Marc replies, a burst of something behind his eyes, a little bit of a challenge. He laughs hard after he says it, but Vale doubts he was fully joking. 

He finds himself wanting to know how many different emotions Marc’s smile can actually be a cover for, wants to examine and catalog them, find out what he can say to crack the mask, break the seal.

He smile even wider, like he thought it was just as funny as Marc did, and makes it sleazy. It's a game, now. He loves games. Maybe Marc will be able to play.

“Ah, an insider secret for you—riding is a game of confidence. You say you’re a fan?” Marc nods fast. He leans forwards and watches Marc’s pupils blow out, more ink spilling. He wants to write a letter with it, wants to draw something. “Then of course you should want me to be confident, so I can win. You know, that would make me very happy.”

Marc holds his eyes for a moment. They spark. He bites at his lip again.

“Really? You want to know what I like about you?”

“I do.”

“Can you do me a favor first?” Marc knocks back his tequila, then looks at Vale through his lashes. Coy. He can play.

“Hm,” Vale refuses to commit. He's curious, though, in more ways than one.

Marc could ask for anything, and Vale could decide whether or not to give it to him.

“I have something for you to sign.”

That’s easy—perfect, even. Vale looks around, Marc’s hands are empty, “Where is it?”

Marc grins suddenly, flavored with victory. Vale wonders how it tastes.

“Back at my hotel room.”

Once Vale has finished laughing, they go.

*

Still eager, still young, Marc kisses him before the door is even closed. Bites at his lips while Vale tries to talk, hands hungry on his body as if Vale’s going to take off and leave in the middle of the fucking hookup. He hears a door slam and smoothly suppresses a flinch. Marc doesn't see, which is good. He has a part to play here.

“Hey hey hey, you know, I know you are not famous,” Marc chuffs out a belly laugh, jajajas against Vale’s neck at the joke. “But paparazzi, they do follow me. I don’t want my picture in the paper next to my one night stand, it could ah,” Marc nips at his earring, plays with it with his tongue, lets Vale squeeze the muscle of his ass. “Ruin my reputation.”

“Is that what I am?” Marc breaks off of the hickey he was working onto the skin behind Vale’s ear and hooks two fingers into his belt, hauling him into the room. He kicks the door shut. “A one night stand?”

“I fly out tomorrow,” Vale lies regretfully, and Marc smirks at him a little too knowingly, then drops to his knees.

“You asked me what I liked about you,” He says, working at Vale’s belt, his fly. Vale flips off his shirt, toes off his shoes.

“I did,” He starts, and Marc leans in.

When he’s got him out, he takes the head into his mouth, throat working in slick sounds as he slides further down, starts to work the base in his hand. Vale works not to moan, biting the inside of his cheek, and he thinks Marc cant tell, because he looks up at him like he would smile, if not for Vale’s cock in his mouth.

“I like that,” Marc says once he pulls off, wiping a little at his face in a prissy sort of movement. His lips are shining, a bruised, swollen red color, and there’s still some spit sloppy on his chin. He leans forward and licks at the blunt head, one broad, flat, long stroke that makes Vale’s toes curl from the power of the sensation, the vulnerability of it, and then he stays close. Speaks with his lips against the delicate, overheated skin of Vale’s dick. “Will that help you win?”

Vale catches his breath, blows out some air from his cheeks, loosely curling a hand in the mess of Marc’s curls. He feels out of sorts, off balance. Thrilled.

“Well, you know it cannot hurt,” Masking how eager he is with a joke, to lance the sensation, make it a little less keen. How bad he wants it. it’s not even new, he’s been in this position hundreds of times— it shouldn’t feel like it is. He shouldn’t need it like this, like if Marc walks out of the room he’d be taking a chunk of Vale with him.

“So, ah.” He covers, remembers what he should say. “What was it that you wanted me to sign?”

Marc giggles and stands, shucking off his clothes as he does. Smooth skin, built thighs, compact body full of muscle and scar tissue. Vale looks hungrily. His cock is hard and big, hanging between his legs.

Oblivious to Vale's eyes or pretending to be, Marc sits on the bed and gestures to his body, twirls the marker between his fingers. “Could you?” He asks sweetly, and Vale realizes that what Marc wants him to sign is himself. 

His dick throbs. This kid.

“Where?” He asks, smoothing a smooth hand over Marc’s shoulder and gently pushing him back against the bed. Marc arranges himself against the pillows easily, boyish smile huge on his face.

“Wherever you want,” And Vale kneels over him, sits back on the solid shape of his torso so he can feel Marc’s big dick twitch against him, get that feedback. Vale settles, surveys, palms himself. Marc swallows.

“I think here,” He muses, splaying his fingers like a frame and holding them above Marc’s right nipple. 

“Does that look right to you?”

“Yeah,” Marc breathes. 

He plucks the marker from Marc’s fingers, asks, “Is there anyone I should make out the message too?”

His brown eyes are wide, bottom eyelashes spiky against his cheek. Butter wouldn’t melt. “No,”

“No one? No boyfriend? Girlfriend?” He's trailing his other hand over Marc’s pecs now, pinching at his nipple to see him squirm, tease him a little. Hips buck up, rubbing his erection against Vale’s ass and blurting a wet streak of pre-come there.

“There is someone— an older guy from around here, but we haven’t slept together yet so I don’t know if he’s, how do you say it in Italian— leading me on,” Marc says impatiently, still trying to fuck up against Vale, and Vale laughs, spits, and starts to work himself in his hand.

“Okay, okay,” He uncaps the marker with his mouth and positions his other hand over the smooth skin of Marc’s chest. He signs his name, Valentino Rossi, in silver against golden skin, and Marc shudders, a full body tremor, as the nib drags over his skin in a practiced stroke. His mouth drops open, still pink from Vale’s cock, and Vale presses his thumb hard against the nipple when he finishes, and throws the marker on the floor.

"God," is dragged out of Marc like he cant help it. Vale doesn't know if he's talking to him or not. He fists himself from tip to base.

His hand picks up its pace, fixes on the shine of his name on Marc, the way he’s whining now, small noises as his he moves in little abortive thrusts against Vale’s thigh. He grinds down, braces his free hand on Marc’s tit, framing it, and runs his mouth, mindless, says Marc’s name over and over until it's all he can think, all he can think.

“Marc, Marc,” He murmurs, and his dick kicks in his hand, and he comes, stunned, all over his name splashed across Marc’s chest. He makes a noise, one he can't help, and finds that he barely minds.

Marc doesn't let him recover, his hips still shoving upward, his hands an urgent grip on Vale’s thigh.

“Vale,” He whines, demanding, and without really thinking Vale scoots backward, bending down and sucking Marc into his mouth, working him over hard, until he can hear Marc make a noise and twist his fingers into the fabric of the sheets. He looks up at his face, at the color high on his face and the furrow of his brow as he pants. He wants to see it happen. Wants to make sure.

One suck, two sucks, and then a flood— Marc tensing and twisting, thighs coming up to Vale’s temples, and it’s over, Marc twitching and gasping through the aftershocks, the silver of the marker and Vale’s come shiny on his chest. 

“That was fun,” He says dreamily, and Vale hums, feels a little dizzy. He wants to bite at Marc’s thigh, so he does. He'd rather taste sweat than come. Rather mark him in more ways than one, than two. Wants it any way that he can have it.

Marc pets his head lazily, rucking up the sweaty curls in a familiar motion, and then reaches over to the nightstand and puts on his wedding ring, twisting it down his finger.

“We should do that again,” He sits up to grab his phone— probably checking messages from Álex. Vale crawls up to flop next to him, leaning over the bed and grabbing a t-shirt to mop up the mess on Marc’s chest. He doesn’t like to be sticky for too long.

“Yes, yes we should,” He agrees.

Marc hums.

“Next time, I get to be the rider, I think.”

“Really? Eight time champion Marc Marquez picking up fans in bars? I could tell the papers.” He tosses the shirt over his shoulder.

Marc shoots him a look over his phone, then reaches, hand catching at Vale’s wrist and hauling him back close.

“Oh, but I thought I was not famous.”

Vale grins, collapses in to hear Marc grunt at the crush of his weight, to press his face against the soft skin of Marc’s armpit. He traces his name, and then traces Marc's scar.

“Caught that, did you?”

Marc winds an arm around his back. Keeps him there.

“Hm, yeah I did.”

“I was getting into character.”

“The character is you.”

“Yes, and I am a funny guy.” Vale says, and then he reaches up to turn off the light.

[eveshsrramblings]

Hello. I just fought Sunday for what is hopefully the last time but I don’t think I’ll ever be fully convinced I’m not dreaming ever again. Here are my thoughts:

I can’t believe we hit him with the train

The music was actually insane. What the hell

Following the music thing, I preferred the religious vibe we had going over Robin’s pop track but Sunday was literally so upset about Robin showing up to help whoop his ass that I didn’t even mind

The camera work with Sunday asking for the last time “why does life slumber?” And the quick zoom and shock on Sunday’s face when the Trailblazer has an answer was really good. I liked that. I think I might like Sunday suffering lmao

We hit Sunday with a train

The Acheron flashback at the beginning of the fight was so long but the reveal that the old guy was a trailblazer was crazy. Like wdym that’s oomf

Having Robin dive after Sunday post-fight was actually diabolical work

Forcing me to watch a flashback about Sunday and Robin’s childhood promise immediately afterwards? Somehow even more diabolical. If they’d actually shown them as kids I may have lost it.

Idk who this guy is that Boothill is looking for but it’s so funny to me that Boothill has pulled a gun on every single character he’s met so far. You go diva.

We hit Sunday with the train.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Hi I saw you wanted requests for older!eddie/sugar daddy!eddie and I have ideas! It’s a little sad so I’m sorry about that. Happy ending tho!

I can picture Eddie looking for a sugar baby because he’s had so much trouble with women in the past. He was always an outcast and he has a hard time believing someone wants to spend time with him. You’d been friendly (maybe like coworkers or neighbors) and when he offers the arrangement at first your like “you don’t need to pay me to spend time with you I like you” and you help him see how wonderful he is and show him how attractive he is.

Or alternatively (and way more smutty), you match on a sugar daddy/sugar baby site or chatroom or whatever and you and him have crazy good chemistry and then when you send him pics he’s like- holy shit it’s you the girl he’s been crushing on forever. Or maybe he doesn’t know you irl and the reader is a cam girl and Eddie pays for private zoom calls and you’re so surprised cause omg this client is so hot.

cw: MDNI (18+) Eddie receives a handjob, age gap (reader is 25 and Eddie is 40)

Eddie’s definitely the first to admit that he doesn’t have great luck in the dating department. He’s been on more dates than he can count, but for whatever reason, it never goes past more than one.

He doesn’t get it. He’s got the money and he thought the ladies loved that kind of thing. He’s even offered to buy them whatever they want, but that never seems to work as they often think he’s just flashing his wealth at them.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing wrong. He’s not asking for much either. He just wants someone who he can spend time with, someone he can spoil because he’s got more money that he knows what do with.

So when Steve and Robin suggest that he become a sugar daddy, he immediately thinks that’s the answer. It seems like the perfect arrangement. He gets what he wants and there’s no actual attachment. He just doesn’t know who he’d offer it up to.

When he sees you at your desk when he heads to his office, he decides you’re the perfect candidate. He’s constantly heard you complain about your financial situation to other girls in the building and has even seen you eyeing an expensive bag on your computer when he’s passed your desk.

He’s nervous when he finds you in the elevator on Monday morning. He was hoping at least a few extra minutes, but he supposes that this is as good a place as any since it’s just the two of you and no one is there to possibly eavesdrop.

You greet him politely like you always do and he greets you back in his awkward manner and then the rest of the ride to the top floor is quiet, so much so that you could definitely hear a pin drop.

He’s staring at you and he knows it’s creepy, but he can’t help it. You’re just so pretty in your dress pants and blazer, your makeup done so flawlessly. You always look so professional for work and he admires that about you.

He’d by lying if he said that he didn’t have a tiny crush on you. Okay, huge. The second you stepped foot into his office to interview for the position last year, he was taken aback by you. Not only did he think you were beautiful, but he also admired how smart and funny you were. So you were attractive and completely qualified for the position. Surely there had to be a catch in there somewhere, but there wasn’t. Your were just perfect.

But he hasn’t told anybody. He can’t. So he just bottles up his feelings and only lets them out with a sock and bottle of lotion when he gets home. He knows you probably (definitely) be grossed out by that so he doesn’t do it nearly as much anymore, just when he really needs the release.

Eddie’s not the most social person. In fact, the three years you’ve been working for the company, he can easily count on his hand how many times you’ve had a conversation that wasn’t about work. Sure, at first, you were an intern on an entirely different floor so he never saw you, but now he sees you five days a week so what’s his excuse?

What he doesn’t know, which is surprising since you’ve tried to make it very obvious, is that you like him too. And why wouldn’t you? Not only is he hot and a very rich CEO of a company, but he’s also so intelligent. You can see it when you listen to him during meetings. You’re supposed to be taking notes, and you do, sometimes, but really, most times you’re scribbling “y/n Munson” onto the page like a school girl. You’re so in love with him that sometimes, you don’t know what to do with yourself.

He’s beginning to think that’s maybe this is a bad idea, wondering if he should just find a sugar baby online. He’s older than you by fifteen years and he’s also your boss which wouldn’t look so good. But he’s speaking before he can stop himself so there’s no going back now.

“I have a proposition for you,” he says and you turn to him in confusion, your eyebrows furrowing.

“And what would that be?” You ask and you can see that he’s visibly nervous. He talks to so many celebrities on the daily and you’re the one who makes him nervous? That has never made sense to you.

“You can absolutely say no, but I just wanted to offer it up to you if you’re interested.” Now your interest is piqued. Is finally going to ask you to fuck him like you’ve been fantasizing about for years?

“What is it, Mr. Munson?” God, why does you calling him that always make him so fucking hard?

You’re looking at him with concern now, your hand on his shoulder as you step closer, so close that if he moves just a few inches, he could-no, he’s definitely not doing that.

“I-well-as you know, I have a lot of money.” You laugh at that. He’s one of the richest men in the world, of course he has money.

“Right,” you nod, wanting him to proceed. You’re on the edge of your seat, desperate to know what he wants to ask you and why he won’t just come out and say it.

“And it’s come too much for me to handle so I need someone to spend it on, a companion.”

“Okay,” you drag out the word, still unsure as to why he’s telling you this. You’re just his assistant.

“And I’d like that someone to be you.” Your eyes widen at his words. Surely you didn’t hear him right. There’s no way that he wants to give you some of his money. That just doesn’t make any sense. “I can provide you with anything you want or need. Rent? Done. Clothes, shoes, even if you just want some extra cash. But in return, I would like you to spend time with me.”

You’re staring at him like he’s got three heads so he’s quick to backtrack. He really doesn’t want to upset you. “But that’s not a requirement. If you just want the money-“

“Mr. Munson, that is so generous,” you cut him off, your other hand moving up to his other bicep as you step even closer, pulling him forward as you bring your lips to his ear. “But you don’t have to pay me to spend with you. I already like you.” You press a lingering kiss to his cheek then flee the elevator as the doors open.

He’s following you, hurrying to catch up with you. Instead of heading to your desk, though, you’re entering his office, looking back at him with a flirty look.

You open the door and hold it for him before letting it slam closed and locking it. When you turn, he’s all the way across the room, trying to make sense of what’s happening, but he just can’t.

He’s loosened his tie and his hair is even more of a mess than it usually is. You make your way over to him, taking him by the hands and pulling to you and wrapping his arms around your waist while your hands wind into his hair, giving his scalp and little scratch before pulling his head forward. Your lips slowly press to his and he gasps into your mouth before slowly melting into you.

You’re kissing him hungrily and he’s matching your energy as this is something that the two of you have wanted for so long. It’s everything you could have imagined and more, his lips just as soft as you had pictured.

Your tongue quickly swipes along his bottom lip as you push him against the window. He lets you inside and can’t stop himself from moaning. You swear you’re to come just from hearing it and once you press your body to his, you can see he’s already one step ahead on you as you feel his rock hard cock pressing against you.

“Want me to take care of that for you?” You ask and he whines, unable to get the words come out of his mouth as he nods enthusiastically.

You hurry over to his desk and look through his drawers until you find a bottle of lotion that you’re sure if for the exact purpose to lucky you. You then unbuckle his pants and pull them and his underwear down, his rock hard cock coming into view. You pump some of the lotion into your hand then go to town, pumping his his cock hard as he pressed himself even harder against the window, trying to grab onto whatever he can as a loud moan falls from his lips.

You slap your free hand over his mouth and his eyes flutter shut as pleasure courses through him. He’s sure he’s going to come any second.

“That’s it. Just like that,” you encourage him. “Maybe if you’re a good boy, I’ll clean you up.” He mumbles something against your hand and before you’re about to ask him what it is, there’s a loud knock at the door, the two of you staring at it in fear as you pull away quickly, letting Eddie put his pants back.

“We can continue this at my place tonight,” you wink. “I’ll message you my address, okay?”

“Okay,” he nods as you make your way to the door as Eddie heads towards his desk, sitting behind it to hide is still very hard cock.

You unlock and open the door and sure enough, Steve is standing on the other side of it, looking between you and Eddie curiously. As you head out of the office with your head low to hide your smile, all Steve can think about is how he owes Robin twenty dollars.

taglist: @the-witty-pen-name @k-yurieee

[eclipseberrycake]

Top Shelf (Support! Reader x Sprout)

AN: Oooh mr. Seedly. I love making you all fall in love with my version of Sprout >:) Then requesting more Sprout >:) Then I get to write more Sprout >:)

This is a request!

☁ Now, now, now. A support toon.

☁ Hear me out. An ability like Gigi, but instead of getting the objects yourself, you give a random object to a toon of your choice.

☁ Of course, you give this to Sprout, all the time. Because it's funny.

☁ Imagine he's hiding from a twisted behind a box and is suddenly pelted by gumballs falling from the air above him, your giggles falling away.

☁ Just as he goes to yell at you, the twisted spots him and he's left running to lose them, glaring at you as you snicker from your own hiding place.

☁ Sprout is an overprotective guy, we've established well enough, and this ability kind of pisses him off.

☁ Why is he taking something, especially when luck strikes and it's something like a band or a med-kit, when it could be going to you?

☁ A part of him knows that this is your way of showing affection however. You do what you can to protect him while he's always giving you heals whenever needed. It's a give and take really.

☁ I haven't really touched on it directly in the MBC works, but Sprout is a touchy guy. He loves just touching for no reason. But he's a jerk when he does it/ affectionate

☁ He's leaning on you like you're a table, messing with your head, using his hands to steer your shoulders wherever he wants, holding you like one would hold a cat, crouching down to talk face-to-face with you even if the height difference isn't that great.

☁ He even does that thing where he holds your forehead with one hand while the other holds something out of your reach.

☁ Like I'm sorry but I love the Lovers who are actually each others biggest haters. It's so funny to me.

☁ Don't get me wrong, if you're with Sprout, you're probably returning it tenfold.

☁ You call him over for tapes only to take them the second he's close enough to do so (Oooh ginger mains when I CATCH YOU GINGER MAINS-), running off giggling even if he's quick enough to catch you. You're making sure you're using your ability when he's in the worst situation, making him stumble to catch the bottle of pop as Twisted Teagan chases him down.

☁ It's all in good fun, trust.

☁ You guys probably get together because he's talking to Cosmo about his feelings an Cosmo goes "You want me to set you up with them?" And like a FOOL, he agrees. So, in the elevator where it's isolated with no escape route, Cosmo SCREAMS across the elevator. "HEY Y/N SPROUT LIKES YOU!"

☁ He would throttle the cake roll yet.

☁ He nearly did when you turned at the sound of your name from your conversation with Glisten, who hides his laugh behind his hand. You're cheeks immediately flush as your brain computes the knowledge given to you and Sprout wants to crawl into a hole and die.

☁ And then you laugh. It's slow little giggles and then hearty laughter that makes his stomach flip hearing it. You shake your head before beaming. "I would hope so, as far as I'm aware, we've been dating for months."

☁ Which was news to him. He gapes as Cosmo cackles, patting Sprout's back before running into the newly opened room. The only two left in the elevator are him and you. You watch the others leave, before stepping just enough the elevator won't kick you out, watching Sprout as he steps beside you.

☁ He avoids your eyes as he scratches the back of his neck, his own seeded cheeks turning a more ruby red. You grin at him, gently taking his hand. "What's wrong, Seedly?"

☁ All signs of the bashful, shy Sprout are immediately dashed as he deadpans at you, raising a brow ridge at the use of his name. You smirk up at him again, nudging him with a shoulder.

☁ "Did you really think we were dating?" He suddenly asks and your face falls. It makes his own gut twist as he goes to try and rectify it, but you're already talking, trying to take your hand back. "I'm so sorry, did I read the signs all wrong? I thought when you mentioned feeling closed to me a couple weeks ago-"

☁ He had done that. He mentioned being closest with you weeks ago, and was going confess then, but wussed out. To know now, that you took it that way anyway? His hands tighten around yours. "I was!" He blurts. "I was going to, admittedly." He frowns at this even as you stop trying to pull away. "I chickened out, but I do like you. A lot. I did then and I do now."

☁ You stare at him before letting out a sigh of relief, shaking your head with a grin. "Oh, Mr. Seedly-"

☁ "Well if you're calling me that-" Sprout is the one to try and pull away this time, making you giggle as you try and grab him again, saying all sorts of denials and apologies through your laughter.

☁ He lets you grab his cheeks, staring into the pools of your eyes with a dopey grin on his face. Sure Cosmo was being chased by a twisted right now, but he'd be fine. He deserved it. At least for a little.

☁ "Can I kiss you?" You ask suddenly, and his cheeks burn a bright red, only able to mindlessly nod his head. You reach up and press a kiss to his lips, only a quick peck, but he swears fireworks go off somewhere.

☁ You grin at him once more and there's suddenly something much heavier and cylindrical in his hands. You're waving as you run off, and he's left staring between his hand, which now holds a can of pop, and you're retreating form before laughing at himself and what's he's gotten himself into before turning to save Cosmo.

☁ Cosmo gives him all sorts of scoldings in the elevator after the fact, but Sprout can't even find it in himself to care, leaning his chin on your head even as you swat at him.

☁ He does love your ability, let me add, he just wishes sometimes you'd use it in a better time. There are times however when it's perfect.

☁ He doesn't distract often, not if he can help it, but when he does and he feels himself running on empty, only for a bottle of pop to appear? He's forever thankful. Or when he's been too busy healing everyone else, he doesn't realize he himself has been hit until he's being smoked with a bandage box.

☁ In return, he throws cupcakes at you.

☁ All in the names of healing.

☁ He's such a turd sometimes I swear.

[blackynsupremacy]

TWO IN THE MORN

pairing: nicholas a. chavez x black!fem!reader

summary: you complain to your stepbrother about your insomnia. fortunately, he has the solution for this issue.

contains: smut, 18+ content mdni, stepcest, stepbro!nicholas, sort of romantic/fluffy, slight age gap (reader is 19, nick is 22), reader is lowkey gullible, pwnp, fingering, finger riding, clit play, under the clothes, squirting, cum eating, risk kink, praise kink, aftercare.

a/n: whew this had me tingling! hope it’s the same for ya’ll 😫 sometimes foreplay can be lowkey sexier than actual intercourse. it’s the ✨tension✨ for me, that’s jmo. anyways, thank you all for the support! i’ll get on those requests.

taglist: @greengoblinswifey @hopefully-saturn @jkr820 @hoffmansgirl @austeenbootler @niteskysx @sabrinasopposite @thabiddie23 @hnch33rios @xoxoglittergossip @supaprettyg @motherismotheringggg @oscarisaackissmykitty @simply-lovley44 @elitesanjisimp @gxuxhdjdu @v3n1ce-bxtch @iamsebastiansstan @stargirl-mayaa @miguelspvssy

“shh, you don’t wanna wake up mommy and daddy do you, princess?”

your stepbrother, nicholas, lowly whispered as his hand was buried deep within your silk black pajama pants patterned with white hearts, his ring and middle fingers moving like clockwork in the depths of your clenching walls. you tried to keep yourself quiet as possible, but due to nicholas’ skill, it was damn near impossible.

“mm. mm-mhm.” you manage to whimper, feeling so bashful under his searing, ebony gaze. your chest heaved deliberately as the spaghetti straps of your top started to droop down the skin of your shoulders. your leaned back with your hands placed firmly flat on his mattress, your fingers practically clawed at his plaid sheets. instinctively, you bucked your hips in tandem to the motion of his fingers, softly hissing through your teeth when nicholas brought his thumb to swipe against your sensitive button. a strained whine escaped from you when he pinched it between his thumb and index.

“shh, easy, princess. i’ll give you what you need.” he seductively reassured, pushing his fingers further within your wet heat. what you really needed was some sleep.

ever since your mom married his dad, things have been interesting concerning your relationship with nicholas. he wasn’t a bad stepbrother. he was chill, protective, charming, funny, and an all around good “brotherly” figure to have around. if by brotherly, you mean coming to him with a request for advice on your boy issues, then hell yes. you’ve already talked it out with girls, but who understood guys better than—a guy? nicholas always knew what to say and you would easily follow his advice because it actually got you asked out by your crush! you were grateful to him and you’d never dare to say it out loud to a living soul, but you thought he was—hot. even if it weren’t for the circumstances of being bound by your parent’s marriage, you wouldn’t lie that you had a tiny crush on your stepbrother. it kind of made you jealous how your friends could easily fawn over him and rave about how handsome he is while you couldn’t even courtly agree, so that you wouldn’t come off as a perverted creep.

besides, he was just easy to talk to and hang out with.

this night in particular would completely shift your whole family dynamic. it was two in the morning and you couldn’t sleep, no matter how long you closed your eyes, you weren’t lulled into slumber like you should. that’s when you got up from the comfort of your bed, walked quietly passed your parent’s bedroom down the hall, and found yourself right in front of nicholas’ bedroom door that was slightly cracked open. you peeped through the small opening to see that he was still awake himself, scrolling and typing away on his phone while laying on his bed. respecting his privacy, you lift your knuckles to knock the “secret code” you two created to signal to each other when you wanted access to each other’s rooms. within seconds, you heard the springs of the mattress creak as your stepbrother received the signal and his footsteps quietly, yet deliberately reached the door before he opened it wider to reveal his six foot figure leaning against the doorframe. it was dark, but you could still see that he was wearing a black ribbed tank top that showed off his large biceps with grey sweatpants that hung loosely on his hips, his signature gold cross chain around his neck twinkled in the darkness. fuck, no matter what he wore, he always managed to look amazingly hot.

you try not to gawk too long before he’d start to notice. you swallowed quickly before uttering an awkward greeting in a low, breathy voice.

“hey.” you say, hiding your hands behind your back. it was something you did when you were nervous.

nicholas raised a brow, tilting his head in concern before running a hand through his already messy, brown hair.

“hey.” he reciprocated, his voice raspy, but low enough so only both of you could hear. “are you okay, y/n?”

at his inquiry, you shake your head.

“i can’t sleep. can—can i hang out in here with you? i hope i’m not intruding.” you ask, your doe eyes meeting his what was once a sleepy gaze, instantly lit up at your request.

“uh, yeah—sure. make yourself comfortable.”

nicholas nods before giving a once over to his bed and steps aside to allow you inside of his bedroom. as you take your spot at the foot of the bed, he slowly closes the door, careful not to make a sound that could wake your sleeping parents. after switching on the lamp, he steps over to the bed and comfortably takes a seat a mere foot away from you because he respects your space as you do his. nicholas leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees as his eyes meet with yours.

“so what’s keeping you awake tonight, hm? is everything okay with you?”

you shift, clasping your hands on your laps and shrugging your shoulders.

“i don’t know—maybe it’s stress. i’ve tried everything to get relaxed enough. a hot shower, chamomile tea. hell, i even put on one of those sleep hypnosis videos and it still didn’t work, nicholas.” you explain, counting on your fingers as he takes in every word and giving an attentive nod. with a hum from his chest, nicholas straightens up his posture before giving your figure a quick examination, raking his eyes up and down. now, you were starting to feel like an idiot at his silence, but you weren’t expecting what was going to come out mouth next.

“i don’t think you’ve tried everything.” he states, casually leaning back on the bed, his hands giving him leverage. you shoot him a puzzled look and turn your body to completely face him with a furrowed gaze.

“well—what do you mean? what do you think can put me to sleep and keep me asleep this late, nicholas?” you question, unconsciously leaning forward as you were itching to find the solution. nicholas’ guidance has never really failed you, so you were eager for his opinion on the matter. he didn’t move an inch as you came closer, there was something different that twitched inside of him. at the sight of your scantily clad upper body in that black and white polka-hearted top with the lace hugging the melanated mounds of your breasts was merely a few inches from his bare chest, he couldn’t resist a quick glance to the display before meeting your soft, pleading gaze.

“here’s my solution— an orgasm.” he blatantly suggests, his eyes flickering to a certain suggestive light. you were bit inexperienced in that area, so it was only natural that the heat of embarrassment scorched your skin, your mouth agape as nicholas struck you speechless.

“a what?” you ask, registering what you just heard.

nicholas could only chuckle at your reaction which he found to be absolutely adorable. he loved that your unique beauty and your trusting nature painted an image of naivety that just turned him on. he couldn’t deny that you came to him for almost everything under the sun, it made him feel a sense of purpose, power, and control. a lazy smile painted on his chiseled face paired with those half-lidded bedroom eyes of his that always put you in a tizzy.

“c’mon, we’re both adults here. i know you heard me, but i’ll say it again: an orgasm can help get you to sleep.”

“how do you know?” you question with a tilt of your head, but then it all the dots start to connect, realization painted on your already heated face.

“that means you’ve done it before.”

“atta girl!”

with a snicker, he pats the top of your head in which you shake him off.

“so—sex can wear you out like that?”

he nods before giving you a further explanation.

“well, all aspects of sex can do that. from fucking to masturbation. even oral, depending on how intense it is.”

at the mention of masturbation, it was now your turn to deliberately nod.

“i guess that makes sense. god, i sound so sexually uneducated and i’m almost twenty for fuck’s sakes.” you exasperatedly sigh, nicholas chuckled and scooted closer towards you making his leg brush against yours.

“it’s no big deal, it’s all about knowing your body in your time. you’ll get there, y/n.” he reassures you with a sincere gaze.

“see, that’s the problem, nicholas.”

“what is?”

“i can’t get there. like—when i, y’know.” you pause, gesturing towards your lower region. “i’m relaxed, but i can’t finish. i want to go back to my room and take your advice, but i don’t think i can do it. i feel like there’s something wrong me—”

“stop.” nicholas immediately cuts you off, placing his index finger on your lips. who knew that a touch so small could send such a surge of electricity through your entire body? your silence was his cue for him to continue.

“listen to me, okay? there’s nothing wrong with you and anyone who’s made you feel otherwise, can fuck themselves.”

your stepbrother pauses to carefully examine your natural features. he found you, his stepsister, to be absolutely breathtaking. nicholas absolutely loathed the circumstances of this situation as his feelings for you never changed from the very moment he and his father had dinner with you and your mother. you were his everything and you didn’t know it all. you didn’t know of all his yearning for your voice, your laughter, and your body. your presence had him fucked up in a million different ways and in this moment between you, he couldn’t hide it any longer.

“i believe—you’re absolutely perfect.”

your heart skipped a beat at your stepbrother’s confession, did he just confess his feelings? had you been blind that he saw you the way you saw him? one part of you was elated while the other erased the possible consequences if anyone figured out the bond between you was more than platonic, especially your parents.

“nicholas, i—” you start, but he interrupts you again, his face inching closer to yours as the tip of your noses brush against each other.

“if you feel like you can’t do it, then i can help you.”

your breath hitched in your throat, your eyes searching his for clarity on his statement as his lips ghosted over yours.

“you’d do that? but, i’ve never had—”

nicholas’ large hand came up to rest on your cheek, his thumb swiping across your flaming skin in reassurance.

“we’re not going that far, babe. especially not with mom and dad in the house, but we can unpack that later—what i need to know is do you want me to help you go to sleep tonight?”

your mind was already made up, there was no way you could pass an opportunity like this. all the cares and worries of getting caught now gave you the craving of the thrill that you’d be been waiting for and stepbrother was your the right person to do so.

“mm-hm.” you murmur, nodding your head as your heart rate increased in tempo within your chest. the familiar tingly sensation pools in between your legs.

“that won’t work for me, sweetheart, use your words.” he softly demands, his hand sliding from your face down to your waist to shorten the distance between you.

“yes, nicholas, yes! please—” at your desperate pleas, your stepbrother closes the gap between you by smashing his lips on yours, a line that both of you have been dying to cross for months. your hesitant at first, but once you get the feeling of his intoxicating touch, you fall right into his rhythm as his tongue skillfully wraps around yours, causing you to hum in satisfaction deep into his mouth. he pulls away after a few seconds, you pout as worry creeps in.

“did i do something wrong? was i bad?” you frantically questioned in a whisper, feeling self-conscience about the act you were committing. nicholas calmed the fret in your voice by placing another kiss to your lips, a deep hum of satisfaction erupts from his chest as you relax in his arms and return the affection. he pulls back again.

“no, no, sweetheart. you’re doing just fine. just wanna let you know m’bout to touch you. you okay with that, baby?”

you were about to nod, but then remembered that nicholas needed your verbal consent, so you quickly changed your tune.

“y-yes, go ahead.” your voice shaky, but affirmative enough for him to continue by snaking his hand under your tank top to cop a feel of one your breasts. you shiver when his rough palm meets the plush skin, rewarding it with a squeeze. you want to cry out when he brings his other hand in and starts to knead your chest beneath your shirt, but you bite down on your lip to not a make sound.

“fuck, your tits feel so perfect. i’ve always thought they were—it’s like they were made just f’me.” he whispered before gazing up to see your strained, but blissful face. with a quiet chuckle, he makes things worse when he starts to spread wet, open mouth kisses along your neck and collarbone. your grip on his sheets tighten when he moves from your breasts down the trail of your stomach and navel until he made it right above the waistline of your matching pants. before he could even ask, it was now your turn to make a demand. it was getting late, you just wanted to sleep.

“i want you to touch me, nicholas.” you pause by holding onto his wrist to inch his hand deeper into your pants, “please.”

“eager, aren’t we? be a good girl and spread those legs f’me.”

you do as you’re told and your breath hitches when his fingers slide beneath your clothing. nicholas chuckles as he figures out that you’re completely bare, giving him easy access to your throbbing, wet core.

“no underwear? guess you’re not as innocent as i thought.” he comments, not wasting time for his fingers to graze along your slit. when the pads of his middle and ring make light, pressured circles around your clit, you whimper before you hastily cover your mouth before you take it away once you have control of sounds—or so you thought when one finger eased its way inside, stretching your walls as they clench around him.

“you’re so tight, sweetheart. m’gonna put another finger in, ‘kay?”

with that, his ring joins in with his middle, both working in tandem as they push in and pull out so fluidly it makes your leg spread and head spin. when his fingertips hit that one spot, you gasped, holding onto his wrist to signal for him to hit it right there. nicholas wasn’t playing around as he instantly picked up on your cue, pumping his fingers faster against the erogenous area of your walls.

“s-shit, nicholas that feels s-so—” you try to stammer out, but he interrupts you by placing his free finger on your lips.

“shh. try not to make a sound. you don’t wanna get caught do you?”

you shake your head, stifling your mewls by swallowing.

“that’s my good girl. m’gonna make you feel so fucking good, beautiful.” he boasts by pressing his thumb over your clit again, rapidly jutting it up and down in which your hips instinctively buck into his fingers. the only sounds you could hear in the room is the light squelching of your sex combined with the muffled “hm, hm, hm” buried in your mouth as the familiar heat deep in the pit of you began to burn.

“c-close.” you murmur loud enough for only him to hear, you lean back as your hips were squirming against his gliding digits.

“i know, baby, i know. do something f’me okay? c’mere.” he beckoned you closer in which you did before his free arm guides one of yours to grasp onto his shoulder, you follow suit by taking your other and placing it on the respective shoulder, so that you could hold onto him with a firm grip.

“move with me, baby. ride my fingers.” he moved his fingers steadily as you begin to grind your hips in the perfect rhythm, his thumb never ceasing its affection on your sensitive, puffy button. it was all driving you so crazy, that your nails dug into the skin of his muscular shoulders before you practically bounced yourself at a rapid speed on his fingertips, your breath now labored with each thrust.

“oh, fuck. oh, fuck, nick! m’gonna cum!” you softly bellowed, the pitch of your voice getting higher.

“fuck, go ahead, gorgeous. make a mess all over of me. i got you.”

before you could utter another sound, nicholas grabbed you by the neck to pull you into a passionate kiss, where you poured every single lewd sound you had pent up melt into his mouth as your tongues reunite in a sensual dance. there were so many sensations going on at once from above to below, that the slow simmer of the heat coiled inside of you grew hotter until it finally exploded. as it occurred, you pulled back from him, tightly grasping his wrist as intense tidal waves of pleasure surged through you, causing to weakly you double over into his chest. your mouth was wide open, but not a sound came out as your juices flowed onto his fingers and poured down your thighs. after you rode out your high, nicholas slide his fingers out to take a taste of the glistening substance that poured on his hand. a hug mixed with some soft profanity left his lips at the new taste—his next idea brewing in his filthy mind.

“you did so well, angel.” he wrapped his burly arms around your shaky, fucked out form, resting a kiss to your forehead. he noticed that you were quiet, his brown eyes descending towards you to see that you were knocked out cold in sweet slumber after such an encounter. if he could, he’d sit here all night watching you sleep in his arms, but he had to put you back in bed before sunrise, so that your parents wouldn’t be suspicious. ever so stealthy, he picked you up bridal style and walked quietly to your open bedroom before gingerly placing you in the sheets, pulling them over to conceal you from the chest down. he was even kind enough to find your protective satin bonnet, gently lifting your head to securely place it over one of the many hairstyles that he always found to be stunning on you. nicholas’ soft, coffee gaze lingered on your peaceful, sleeping figure before he leaned forward to lay one last kiss on your head.

“sweet dreams, princess.”

after he bid you a tender goodnight, he gazed down at the stiff arousal within his sweats. nicholas concluded that he had to take his own advice of putting himself to sleep within the privacy of his bedroom.

[prlssprfctn]

It is no secret that Jason Todd has a soft spot for kids. His family knew it for a while, figured by the way he always changed the intonation of his grumbling voice around them, and stopped to help them out with whatever was puzzling their little, chaotic minds.

But it is still so unusual for them to see Jason actually acting soft around random kids.

So, when Dick accidentally walks on Jason and a little crying kid in the alleyway, during the patrol, he... freezes a little. There is something absolutely cute in a way big bad Red Hood kneels in front of the kid, while animatedly telling some stupid, funny story with all sounds effects rolling down his tongue, and big gestures. The kid giggles, gasps, and eventually stops crying, wrapping little arms around "brother's Hood" neck. Jason gets grumpier when he notices Dick staring at them, but that's fine. It is still cute-cute.

The next week, Tim stumbles across Red Hood, distracting a homeless boy scared of explosions by playing with him. When the boy jokingly hits him on the shoulder, Red Hood dramatically falls on the ground, gripping his "wound," and Tim can't help but stifle a laughter along with a boy.

Barbara listens through the comms as Red Hood hums some lullaby to a girl, he saved from Black Mask's goons. Damian catches Red Hood taking off his helmet for a toddler to stop crying at the sight of an unknown big guy around.

But the point stands: Jason always finds a way to protect kids, and that's something they all are used to.

...They just don't expect kids to protect Red Hood.

When Jason gets hit with a fear toxin — again — and Bruce figures out that he mindlessly, in a total state of panic, went to the Crime Alley, Bruce is... alarmed. None of them handle fear toxin well, but Jason has guns on him, and his memories are the worst. He practically sprints to the location Jason's tracker is, and... stops in the tracks.

Jason is here, full in his armour, curled in the dark, dirty alleyway with kids surrounding him. There tenths — maybe more of them — and they are trying to calm shivering and panicked Red Hood down. A little girl pats him on the helmet, and another boy hugs him gently. They all murmur something, debating about what to do, and Bruce needs a good minute to remember why is he even here.

'Hey!' Some kid from the crowd notices him first, instantly frowning. 'Back off from there. Don't touch brother Hood.'

Bruce doesn't know whether he should laugh or cry.

'I... I am here to help,' he softens his voice. 'Don't worry, kiddo. Thanks for keeping him safe, but—'

'Uh-uh,' the girl glares at him under uneven bangs while shaking her finger in the air. 'We don't trust you. Back off.'

...Jesus, surely Bruce remember times when kids were scared of him, but this is the first time they are actually so bold around him. And it is definitely the first time someone stops him from taking care of his own kid.

Kids from this side of town are really built differently.

'I—'

'Hey,' some taller teenager runs towards them, slightly out of breath as he shakes a can in his hand, addresing his next question to other kids: 'I bought his favourite beer. Do you think it is going to help?'

Should he be concerned that kids on the streets know Jason's favourite beer and bought it despite them being... clearly not of the age of drinking? Probably. Is it also a little bit amusing that they think alcohol would help? Yeah.

'I have an antidote,' Bruce clears his throat. 'I just need to inject it, alright? Please, trust me. I am here to help.'

They all exchange questioning glances between each other. Jason is still pretty much out of it, muttering some nonsense under his breath, shaking as a leaf — not crowbar, not again, please — but when a little girl in dress asks him if he wants to see Batman, his eyes clear just for a split second, before he mouths a small, scared Dad.

By the end of the day, when Jason falls asleep, recovering from the toxin, and kids finally seem to trust Batman enough not to hurt their big brother and let them go, Barbara and Dick tease Bruce non-stop about how kids humbled him. Still, Bruce feels a strange softness settling in his chest.

Maybe he wasn't always here to protect Jason. Maybe he still fails to do it sometimes, not knowing what to do with his son, but... at least Jason still has someone in this world, someone so loyal and loving.

So, yeah. Jason Todd is great at defending kids. But so are they.

[bonne-chanson]

If you'd be interested, could you write a story about the reader having to take care of Ranpo when he's sick?

a/n: this is perfect timing actually bc i’m down with a cold rn HAJDBKDN eurgh :(( anw, i hope you enjoy this (reverse?) sick fic! not sure if i captured ranpo’s personality enough, but i tried :’> there’s an established relationship here, so if this isn’t your cup of tea and you just wanted reader taking care of ranpo in general, feel free to tell me so i can whip smth up quickly for you! :>

under the weather and your care

✑ character/s: ranpo edogawa x reader

✑ short desc: his immune system is struggling way too much after playing in the rain and eating lots of candy.

✑ content includes: fluff ; sfw ; established relationship ; sick fic ; nothing to warn anyone about, reader just has to take care of ranpo

✑ word count: 1.6k words

"I told you to drink more water."

Ranpo could only huff at your berating words, crossing his arms childishly while he turns his head away to avoid your stern gaze. As much as he was the world’s greatest detective, his boyish behavior still makes him refuse to acknowledge the fact that you were right to say that too many sweets without drinking enough fluids and having a fever was, indeed, a terrible decision.

A few days earlier, the both of you were assigned to a mission that somehow ended in having to travel to Shibuya for the final piece of evidence. Ranpo, as always, lived up to his title by piecing everything together within half a minute, and the next train to Yokohama wasn’t going to stop by the station any time soon, so he asked himself (and you)—

What harm is there in exploring the city for a little while?

It turned into a spontaneous date of sorts, enjoying all kinds of tourist spots from dressing up and playing around with many colorful fashion pieces in Harajuku to riding go-karts around the emptier streets (which ended in chaos). His favorite, however, and not much to your surprise, was visiting Totti Candy Factory with you in tow, immediately heading over to the buy a big serving of rainbow-colored cotton candy to munch on before grabbing at least two baskets to put the rest of his chosen sweets in (and unfortunately, you ended up going home with five).

Of course, being the ever-loving darling you are to your sugar addict of a boyfriend, you paid for everything. How could you not when he pouted at (coerced) you into bulk-buying them for him?

Everything was fine, even with the amount of candy bags you both had to carry, up until it started to rain.

Shibuya crossing was surprisingly emptier than usual considering it was already late in the afternoon on a weekday, and the freedom to prance around in the rainwater gave him enough thrill to begin jumping on the bigger puddles of the street, yellow rainboots creating the biggest splashes. Pedestrians and passersby eyed him strangely before avoiding him as they walked along, and you, charmed by his adorable character, thought it was funny—

…Until his boyish antics made him roll around in the puddles simply because it was fun.

It didn’t take much longer before you were dragging him away from the street and bowing your head apologetically at the surrounding people crossing as he whined helplessly. Soon after, you found yourselves sitting on a train back to Yokohama, the cushions wet with rainwater as you sat across each other. The poor detective complained about wanting to cuddle closer to you for some warmth, but you rejected his advances, trying not to get the seats any more wet than they already were.

You awkwardly avoided eye contact with him on the way home, guilt gnawing at your insides, and when you gathered enough courage to catch a glimpse of him in front of you all shivering and grouchy, the tug on your heartstrings made itself known. Though, it wasn’t really enough to justify getting your clothes wet in the process, so you forced yourself to look away instead.

(You’d regret that later.)

Yosano could only sigh at the condition your boyfriend was in when the two of you first entered her office, but after prescribing some medicine and her usual advice for common colds and fevers, his body temperature slowly began to go back to normal.

Or so you thought.

The problem is that at some point, when his fever began to simmer down, he remembered the five bags of candy you two had bought the other day and began indulging himself in his sweets instead of sipping the miso soup you’d made for him.

So, his fever is back.

And here you two are, about three days later, with Ranpo currently suffering from a clogged nose and a terrible headache, not just because he was drenched and cold for too long and because you both didn’t have anything to dry him off with on the way back to the agency that day, but also because he refused to follow the doctor’s advice and ate too much sugar while avoiding all the soup and water you would bring him.

And now he has a very itchy sore throat to boot.

You sigh, handing him a cup of lukewarm water as he sniffles and scrunches his nose, looking away.

“Ranpo,” you chide, raising a brow. “Come on… your fever won’t die down if you don’t drink enough fluids. You keep refusing tea and soup because they’re too bitter for your taste, so water is your best option. Yosano-sensei said so, remember?”

He sticks his bottom lip out, pouting at you, and for a moment, you almost give in just because you pitied the red-and-stuffy-nosed detective sitting up on his bed.

“But I don’t like the aftertaste of the candy when I drink water!” he barks back. “And I already drank my medicine for today!”

You roll your eyes, but the gesture is followed by a small chuckle. It’s hard to stay impatient with him.

“Yes, but you need a lot of fluids and sleep so the medicine can work. Otherwise, you’ll be out of business for another week,” you explain, bringing the glass closer to his lips. “The agency wouldn’t be anything without their best detective, after all.”

“Their best detective?”

“…The world’s greatest detective.”

It takes him a few moments, but his pouty face is eventually replaced with a big grin and a laugh interrupted by a few coughs. As you rub his back comfortingly, the gesture soothing his coughing storm, he takes the glass from your hand and hums.

“Okay, fine… But only because the agency still needs me!”

A sigh of relief escapes your lips and you smile again, watching him chug the glass down before wiping his lips with his pajama sleeve. Much to his own comfort, the water did, in fact, help with his sore throat, its cooling nature soothing the itchiness irritated earlier by all the sweets he consumed in one sitting.

“See? That wasn’t so bad.”

Refusing to acknowledge that you were, yet again, right, he places the glass back down on the bedside table before grabbing at your wrist to try and pull you closer to him, shoving the blanket out of the way momentarily.

“Ranpo—?”

“Cuddle me,” he says, still trying to drag you onto the mattress. “You didn’t cuddle me on the train back home the other day, so I was all cold and ended up with a fever. The least you could do is to cuddle me now because I’m still all chilly.”

The sheets of his bed begin to rustle when he traps you in his arms, keeping you next to him like a cat with its favorite toy. Your struggle for some space doesn’t go unnoticed — he grins when he spots this, only engulfing you with the tightest embrace he can give and all the affection he has to offer. He doesn’t hesitate when he nuzzles your neck and curls up closer to you, your body heat helping him relax a little from the headache that came with his stuffy nose and high temperature, allowing him to feel a little more at peace with his current condition.

So, with a final grunt, you take the edge of the blanket and use it to cover yourselves as you turn to your side to let him bury his face in the crook of your neck a little more, your fingers threading through his hair. A nap for now would be good for him, you figure, and if your presence helps calm him down enough to lull him to sleep, then you’d gladly stay for hours on end on his bed with him like this.

But he doesn’t fully close his eyes — not yet. He grabs a tissue or two to blow his nose every now and then, dropping the crumpled trash onto the floor next to the bed (you make a mental note to clean up later), but he can’t seem to drift off to dreamland.

“Something on your mind?” you murmur into his hair, petting it fondly.

He lets out a deep sigh in response.

You’re the only person who can ever come close to reading his thoughts as he had allowed himself to open up enough to be vulnerable around you. Despite being able to catch up to him most of the time, there are still moments that are foggy enough to make you ponder about the thoughts whirring about in his head. So, you make it a point to communicate with him as much as possible and ask him whenever the situation needs to be addressed.

And he’s grateful for that. He may very well consider himself a better mind-reader than you, but to have someone care for him in such a way that they also want to know what’s going on in his head when the world often tends to alienate him for being him is a blessing in itself that, although he never mentions it aloud, he’ll cherish forever.

Ranpo opens his mouth.

“…You didn’t give me a good night kiss.”

You blink.

“What?”

“You always give me good night kisses before we go to bed,” he points out. “It’s part of our routine. You didn’t give me one yet, so I can’t sleep.”

It’s almost impossible to hold back the giggle creeping up your throat.

“Ranpo,” you call, stifling the little laughs between words, “I can’t do that right now. I might get sick if I kiss you. You’ll be passing your fever onto me.”

“But if I can’t go to sleep, then I won’t get any better, and I need you to give me a good night kiss to help me go to sleep.”

Damn him and his (childish) logic.

“…Okay.” Deciding to get this done and over with, you cup his cheek. “But only on the forehead, alright? I’m not risking getting your germs right now,” you jest.

Yet the moment you lean in closer, your lips ghosting the skin of his forehead, he tilts his head upward to allow his lips to meet with yours. Your eyes widen and you scrunch your nose a little when he releases a rather obnoxious mwah! after, and as soon as you pull away, you are faced with the cheekiest expression he can muster.

“Ranpo!”

He yawns as you scold his name, snuggling back into your arms again. “Good night, [Y/N]…”

That initial annoyance of yours quickly fades away and you can’t help but shake your head and smile as you cuddle him closer to keep him warm.

You can never stay mad at him no matter how many times fate (rather, the rain and all of his candy in this case) has to put him under your care. You love your detective too much, after all.

a/n: feel free to let me know how i did! this was also my first time writing for ranpo, so i hope i captured him well enough :’>

[mtcloudsworld]

𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐍?

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 | none, black!fem reader, husband!dickgrayson, it's just funny how mother nature works...Don't mind me lol 😭😂 this just randomly came to mind and I needed to put this somewhere. Edited, but please ignore any errors, ty. Enjoy!!!

"Shit, he's kicking..."

You say standing before the full body mirror, admiring your bare, swollen stomach to watch a foot press flush from the inside out against your belly.

You could see the outline of where his foot was pressing and decided to trace your nail along it. Giggling a little when you feel the baby squirm a little, clearly interacting with them.

Although it did hurt a little you couldn't help but smile enduringly at the weird interaction.

It was late at night when nightwing─ Dick Grayson, your lovely husband had came back from patrol, already out of the shower in only his pajama pants smelling like mint and old spice.

You were already dressed in his old black guns n' roses shirt and boxers with your bonnet on smelling like jasmine and vanilla from your shower earlier.

You were a night owl at heart so Dick wasn't surprised to see you still up.

All night, you were relaxing, enjoying your peace. Did a little bit of cleaning and organizing here and there, tidying up a bit before settling yourself down for bed. And when Dick finally arrives back home, the little bundle of joy decides to disrupt your peace.

"Is he finally awake?" You heard footsteps come from behind.

Then warmth presses up against your back, feeling the tough exterior of his chest pressed against your back and suddenly surrounded by his strong bulging arms, tender hands smoothing along the roundness of your stomach to feel your body lean into his protective embrace. "Yeah, he was quiet all day until...' you then glanced at him through the body mirror, watching as he planted kisses near the side of your face, ear, neck and jawline. "Not that he ever moves to the sound of my voice but...he's more excited when you're around."

"Hm," he smirks proudly, a daddy's boy perhaps?

"He recognizes my voice. He missed papa." Dick mumbled coddling you with his face buried between your neck, swaying your bodies sweetly.

It was quiet for a moment. Enjoying his tender, sweet love and affection towards you.

You're mind began to wander out of the blew.

"...Baby?"

"Hm?"

"What if 'he' is actually a 'she' ?"

The question makes his head pop up.

"Then... she recognizes my voice." He corrects.

And that brought a smile to your face, turning your head a little to make eye contact with him, challenging him.

"But... what if 'she' is actually a 'he' ?"

And he deadpans, "babe, really?"

"What? I'm just asking!─ "

"No, no, no, you are not "just asking" and we're not doing this again, tonight." He states, shaking his head in disapproval yet still wore a smile on his face. "We're not doing this at..." He turns to look at the digital clock in the nightstand before glancing at you "...1:30 in the morning where I answer all of your questions till your mind feels satisfied and then be up all night because you suddenly can't go to sleep. No, it's not happening."

"Okay but wait, listen," you pout, turning to face him completely. "I get that we wanted the baby to be a surprise but... I just can't help but wonder what if he is actually a she, or if she is actually he????"

"That's why we bought neutral colored clothes and other necessities for a reason, so we wouldn't have to worry about that" He nods, pointing towards the preoccupied corner filled with amazon boxes and gift bags of baby stuff that has yet to be set up and put away, call it laziness.

"Yeah but I feel bad that I keep calling the baby he when it could possibly be a she."

"Babe, you're overthinking this way too much right now." He stresses with a heavy sigh.

When he noticed the look of worry/pout on your face, he reaches up to cup your face. Stroking at your cheeks back and forth to slowly feel its smooth texture graze along his soft yet slightly calloused palms. "Look, whether they are a boy or a girl, all they need to know is that their parents love them very much and will do any and everything to keep them safe and sound. No matter what, they're always gonna be cared for."

You sigh, shoulders relaxing. You hate that he's always right. Always know the right words to say. It honestly makes you stand back and feel like a fool at times but you know that dick didn't see it in that way, you were just...an over-thinker at heart.

"Yeah, you're right...." You finalized, looking down to your belly, feeling the baby move once more and rub your hands over the swell of your stomach. "I want them out of me already. I wanna see if they'll have your face." You gleamed, glancing back up at him.

Dick chuckles, "You say that now..." and turns to walk back to the bathroom.

"I'm serious, Dick."

"Mhm, yeah, sure, if you say so."

"You want them out just as badly as I do, so don't even." You stated pointedly, your finger directed towards him with a playful yet warning look.

"I do, but I'm patient about it..." He then frowns a little when you give him a look, one that asked "are you sure about that?" , "...oooorrrrr at least I think I am." He sighs, "I'm just enjoying these last few moments baby free until time says otherwise." He clears up, turning back to the sink to start washing the dirt and grime off his face.

Patience was key right now.

As much as both of you wanted to see your first child come into this world, both of you were still enjoying your time baby free. You, obviously, were in a rush to get them out of you. Dick also was ready to get them out of you, but he was enjoying his freedom.

Once he finished washing his face he started brushing his teeth, hearing the TV play lightly in the background whilst you prepared yourself for bed.

He was in his own head, thinking of who his baby could possibly look more like. Deep down inside he wanted a babygirl. Wanted her to look just like you, mocha skin, dark curls and blue eyes and that beautiful smile of yours. He had an assumption that she was gonna be bold, confident, funny, smart, stubborn and driven with determination. She was, of course, gonna be a mixture of both of you.

Just as Dick spits the paste out in the sink, he hears a sudden splash against the wooden floor. He smiles while wiping his mouth with the face towel and jokingly asks, "Did you slip water again? I swear to god, woman.." he huffs, turning the light off, "if I had a dollar for every time you slip water, I'd be richer than Bruce." Dramatic ass.

Dick was gonna say way more but when he comes around the corner and halts in place, frowning and staring at what's before him...he feels his heart drop.

"D-Dick...?"

You could barely utter a word, barely say his name above a terrified whisper. You were so stuck in shock that you barely recognized the pain shooting through your body at first, legs shaking and soaking wet...as if someone had splashed water all over them.

And like on cue, you both make eye contact.

"My water just broke." You say nervously with shaky breaths, holding onto the dresser for leverage as you feel yourself start to buckle.

And Dick, out of shock, fear and terror, utters, "I WAS JUST KIDDING!!!"

"I DIDN'T KNOW IT WAS GONNA HAPPEN LITERALLY!!!"

After all the numerous phone calls, rushing you to the hospital and being by your side for the entirety of the process, it was safe to say the pregnancy was a success.

Mr and Mrs. Grayson welcomed a healthy babygirl.

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃

𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 ©𝐦𝐭𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓

[catboybiologist]

Random vent, and I've kinda talked about this before, but this is at least gonna be slightly different.

The further along I get in my transition, the more and more annoyed I get about the way people casually joke about neovaginas and bottom surgery. I've talked about how it feels misogynistic before- vaginas being reduced to the "absence" of something, to something that isn't as much of a "thing" as a penis, which is connected to the casual ignorance many cis men have about female reproductive health.

But there's a lot of jokes about bottom surgery even coming from within the trans community that are personally a bit uncomfortable. Eg, the entire idea of "free bottom surgery" for genital injuries, casual remarks about chopping your dick off... idk. It's like... the cope joking version of the rhetoric we've all heard too many times- calling trans surgeries "mutilation", neovaginas a "fuckhole", equating bottom surgery to amputation (which is actual logic used to deny people from bottom surgery), and on and on and on. Fear of medicalization is already a HUGE barrier to many people's transition. I overcame it pretty easily relative to a lot of people, probably bc of my bio background and previous lab animal work. So I guess I never found it as "violent" in the first place, making these things overall less funny to me.

I guess why I'm personally annoyed by it, is that it feels like it trivalizes and reduces the joy from all aspects of transition, including bottom surgery. Its an amazing and delicate procedure that I'm looking forward to someday, and I don't like that joy being diminished. This has always been one of my major pet peeves about transition- cutting down the joy of the trans experience.

This is purely a me problem, and I REALLY don't like policing people's humor, so turning reblogs off just so disk horse doesn't get out of hand. I would love to hear other people's perspective in replies or asks though. I might add my list of "things that aren't really triggers but kinda rub me the wrong way" back to my pinned, and include this there.

Idk. Random vent over.

[lazysoulwriter]

Yes, it's her. - Lewis Hamilton.

Summary: Y/N and Lewis Hamilton have always been spotted together, hand in hand, leaving people to speculate about their relationship. While they found the rumors amusing, Lewis wanted to make it official. It was just a simple request to date—no big deal—so why was he so nervous? With his usual charm and a lot of cheesy jokes, he takes a leap, hoping she’ll say yes.

The evening had started like any other. The two of you had ordered takeout and were sprawled on the couch, lazily scrolling through Netflix to find something neither of you would actually pay attention to.

“Rom-com?” Lewis asked, scrolling past 10 Things I Hate About You.

“Too predictable.”

“Action?” He paused on a Marvel movie.

“Too loud.”

“Horror?”

You shot him a look, and he smirked. “Too scary for you, babe?”

“I’m not scared. I just don’t feel like spending the night listening to you scream.”

He laughed, tossing the remote onto the coffee table. “Fine. No movie. Let’s just sit here and bask in each other’s presence.”

“Oh, how romantic,” you teased, pulling your legs up onto the couch.

Lewis shifted beside you, his knee bouncing ever so slightly. You noticed but said nothing. It wasn’t unusual for him to fidget—he was always full of energy—but tonight felt different.

“You okay?” you finally asked, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Yeah, of course,” he said quickly, his voice just a tad too high-pitched to be convincing.

“Lewis…”

He turned to you with a grin that was a little too wide. “What? Can’t a man enjoy some quality time with his favorite person?”

“Are you sure you’re not hiding something? You’re acting weird.”

“Me? Weird? Never.” He reached for his wine glass, taking a sip that lasted just a little too long.

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you nervous about something? Did you crash another car?”

He nearly choked on his wine. “What? No! Why would you even say that?”

“Because the last time you acted like this, you accidentally ran over my potted plant with your electric scooter.”

He groaned, covering his face. “You’re never letting that go, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

He chuckled, but the nervous energy didn’t leave him. Instead, he leaned back, pulling you closer until your head was resting on his chest. His fingers played with the ends of your hair, and you could feel his heart beating faster than usual.

“You know,” he started, his tone lighter now, “the paparazzi think we’re already dating.”

You smiled, recalling the many headlines you’d seen: ‘Lewis Hamilton and Mystery Woman: Romance or Friendship?’ or ‘Spotted Again: Are They or Aren’t They?’

“They’re pretty creative,” you said. “Remember the one where they said we were secretly engaged?”

“Oh, and the one about us having a secret baby?”

You both burst out laughing, the tension in his body easing slightly.

“I mean, it’s kind of funny,” he said. “They’re all desperate to figure it out.”

“Well, let them keep guessing. It’s more fun this way.”

“Yeah… but what if we didn’t make them guess anymore?”

You froze for a moment, lifting your head to look at him. “What do you mean?”

He cleared his throat, suddenly looking everywhere except at you. “I mean… what if we, you know, made it official?”

You stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate. “Lewis, are you asking me out right now?”

His cheeks flushed, and he laughed nervously. “Okay, this is not going how I planned.”

“You had a plan?”

“Kind of. But then I got nervous, and now I’m rambling, and I don’t know why because this should be easy, right? It’s just… I like you. Like, really like you. And I know we’ve never called it anything, but I want to. I want to call you mine, officially. So… will you?”

For a moment, you just blinked at him, trying to process his words. Then, a grin spread across your face. “You’re such a dork.”

“Is that a yes?”

You rolled your eyes, leaning forward to kiss him softly. “Of course, it’s a yes.”

The relief on his face was palpable, and he let out a dramatic sigh. “Thank God. I was about to start sweating.”

“You were already sweating,” you teased.

“Okay, rude.” He pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “But you said yes, so I’ll let it slide.”

Later that night, after the excitement had settled and you were both curled up on the couch again, Lewis grabbed his phone.

“What are you doing?” you asked, peeking over his shoulder.

“Posting something,” he said, his tone casual.

You groaned. “Lewis…”

“Relax, it’s nothing big.”

He showed you the screen. It was a photo he’d taken of you earlier that evening, laughing mid-bite of your dinner, entirely candid. The caption read: “Yes. It’s her.”

You covered your face with a pillow. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he said, grinning as he hit post.

You couldn’t argue with that.

[pastorfutureletthembe]

X

I just wanted to remind everyone to manage their expectations for the next and last episode.

I don't think the Yingdu Chapter is going to wrap anything important. In the end, it was a 6h30 special episode, basically. It wasn't about Cheng Xiaoshi's original death but about Cheng Xiaoshi's parents. It introduced us to new characters important for next seasons and we know more about Lu Guang's reality. I'm sure it would be relevant later but for the time being, this season seems to be extra content more than any real breakthrough.

Because of this, maaaaybe no one is gonna die by the end of next episode? I'm as shocked and disappointed as you are lmao.

I still have expectations. Because nothing actually happened in five episodes, to be honest. But this season needs to bring more than gayness to the show.

I do hope this season is not the same timeline as s1 and s2.

I want to know what Liu Xiao wants from Cheng Xiaoshi. Or from Lu Guang. Spill the bean Mister Stalker.

I want Lu Guang to reveal an actual big secret to the audience. Give us SOMETHING dude. Stop withholding information, it's been three seasons ffs.

Are Cheng Xiaoshi's parents still alive in s2!present?

Does anyone from the evil trio have actual powers? The suspense isn't for dramatic effect, we're done playing the guessing game, that's not even funny anymore.

I don't think I'm asking for too much, really. You can't spend six months advertising characters, selling freaking merch, and I mean SEVERAL SERIES OF MERCH, and barely introduce them in the show. Come on, at least tell me the truth about who they are and what they want. That's the most basic storytelling rule.

What do you think is the last episode going to be about?

[sc0tters]

Broken Hearts and Newfound Promises

summary: when Mikko gets traded it is finally the push that he needs to ask you out.

request: yes/no

warnings: minor bits of swearing, mentions of a sexual relationship but nothing explicit.

word count: 1.82k

authors note: I finished this weeks update for tommorow and got this announcement when I woke up, so the only logical way to process this with the free time I had was to write about it.

It wasn’t meant to end like this. 

You had met Mikko six years ago after ending up in line for the bathroom at the club.

Music echoed in your ears as you made your way to the bathroom “shit baby there you are!” You felt a hand rest on your back making you almost jump in the process. 

A tall blonde boy stood there “was looking all over to show this nice girl here who my girl was.” The panicked smile on his face made you nod “thanks so much for looking after him.” You placed your hand on his chest feeling him wrap his arm around your waist. 

It made the girl frown “he just gets lost so often.” You added squeezing his cheek “guess you really do have a girlfriend.” She muttered walking off back to the crowd of people. 

The boy smiled as he looked at you “I am so sorry thank you for that.” He pulled away from you, finally giving you back your space “no worries.” You shook your head, knowing that you would have been grateful for the help if the shoe was on the other foot.

You pushed your freshly curled hair out of your face “just one question.” You pursed your lips together “how did you know I was single?” You crossed your arms letting your lips form a smirk when his cheeks turned red. 

He scratched at his throat “I saw you turning down those guys all night.” Mikko pointed out making him run your fingers down his arm “you been watching me huh?” You cocked your head, taunting him. 

You licked your lips “besides how did you know that didn’t mean I was lesbian or something?” That made his cheeks turn red making you laugh “well that one was a gamble but now with the way you’ve been staring at my lips I really don’t think it is the case.” Mikko shrugged bringing his hand up to cup your cheek. 

All of a sudden it seemed you had forgotten that you needed to pee “well why don’t you test your little theory then.” You smiled feeling his other hand travel to the back of your neck pulling you into a kiss.

That memory was one that lived in your brain as a core memory. It was one you held with such joy, but it was funny how fast those memories could be tarnished so fast.

𝗠𝗶𝗸𝗸𝗼 𝗥𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗲𝗻 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗱𝗹𝘆 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗖𝗮𝗿𝗼𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗮 𝗛𝘂𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗲𝘀

The headline stared back at you from your laptop, no matter how much you blinked or rubbed your eyes there was no changing it. Mikko was leaving you and there was nothing that you could do to change it. 

You felt pathetic, feeling like your heart had been taken out of your chest and stomped on before someone tried to put it back in you. You never expected to feel so upset over someone you weren’t meant to care about like that. Mikko wasn’t yours, not really. 

Sure, he was in your bed most nights, celebrating the highs and mourning the lows. Beyond the sanctity of your place and his, it was as if you were just friends. At least that was what you were meant to be, each biting your tongues with every romantic glance someone sent your way. 

Mikko put up with it as he knew you were never going to actually entertain these other guys. But that never made it easy, the looks he would send you were full of love because even if you weren’t his he wished you were. 

Falling into the friends-with-benefits agreement that you had originally suited you both. After getting out of a messy relationship from your side and a long-term one from Mikko’s, you both needed something fun. And it was so easy, getting to call him up when you wanted company or when you craved him in your bed. There was never a time where either of you felt any real pressure as you both got what you needed from the agreement. 

But that all started five and a half years ago and things had changed, Mikko wanted to start settling down which was something he was desperate to do with you. He had this whole plan to finally ask you about going from being the girl who was just in his bed to being at his side, Mikko wanted you to be his girlfriend. 

The boy spent a few nights wanting to scream it from the roof of his apartment building, but now the trade threatened to light a fire up under his ass. He knew that if he didn’t finally talk to you, then he stood to lose you forever. 

A knock came from your door, snapping your attention away from the screen. You stayed quiet, wondering who it could have been “c’mon kisu I know that you’re in here.” Mikko sighed, knocking on your door again “go away.” You mumbled, not ready to see him because in some fragment of your mind if you never saw him then it was not really happening.

Mikko pinched the bridge of his nose, going to knock on your door again before he heard your shuffling in your apartment. Your feet weren’t as quiet on the wooden floor as you would have hoped “don’t tell me you came to say goodbye.” Your head rested against the door, unaware that the boy was doing the same thing on the opposite side. 

The pain in your voice broke his heart “can we please just talk?” The hockey player begged, just wanting to hold you. 

You sighed, taking a step back to finally open the door for him. You stood in one of his hoodies which made your cheeks turn red as he took in the sight of you “fuck.” Mikko’s voice broke seeing how your tears had stained your skin “I can’t believe it.” You cried almost running into his arms, wrapping your arms around his torso. 

The Fin frowned running his fingers through your hair, feeling your tears soak his shirt “I know kultsi.” He cooed attempting to comfort you.

It broke his heart hearing the sounds of your sobs “it’s not fair.” You shook your head “let it out.” Mikko nodded rubbing your back.

He maneuvered the both of you to get back into the apartment so he could shut the door behind him. With the new sense of privacy, you gripped at his shirt “what do you want to talk about?” You asked, sniffling as you brought your hand up to wipe your eyes with the sleeve of the hoodie “I couldn’t leave without seeing you.” His words broke your heart even more. 

Mikko tucked your hair behind your ear “I don’t want you to go.” You sighed watching him nod “I don’t want to leave you like this.” Mikko confessed, sucking at his teeth. 

You reached for his hand “then don’t leave me.” You pleaded wanting to get on your knees to beg him if it called for as much “if only it was that simple.” Mikko would have, honestly if he had the choice of never leaving your apartment again he would take it. To him that was an equivalent of winning the lottery.

He watched you sway yourself back and forth “look, I can visit and see you and see you all the time.” Mikko offered but that wasn’t enough “I want you.” Those words him cock his head wondering if he had heard your correctly.

Mikko pushed his hair out of his face “you don’t know how much I wanted to hear you say that.” He went to hold your hand but you stopped him “no Mikko I want you.” You repeated those words, with a little more determination.

You tucked your hair behind your ears “I want to be the one who gets to be the one you come home to.” It was something he already did most nights to begin with “I stopped wanting us to just be sex, I wanted to be the one who gets to support you loud and proud and not just from my living room.” You explained, biting at the inside of your cheek as you watched him remain silent “please just say something.” You begged shutting your eyes as his silence felt like a new level of today’s nightmare. 

Mikko smiled “remember that night when you came to the game that I got that hatty?” He asked as you slowly opened your eyes to look at him “and when I got here, you analysed all of my goals, giving me your full game review.” It was a memory that made your thighs squirm. Mikko spent the night listening to you babble on about how good he had been while he lay between your thighs treating you like you were his last meal. 

You smirked remembering how in awe he was of you that night “I do.” You nodded cocking your head “that was the night where I was this close to asking you to be my girlfriend.” When he went home he kicked himself for not just asking that five-word question. 

He brought his thumb up to dry your cheek “I hate that you cried over this.” It really did break his heart that you were so upset by that news “don’t want to lose you.” You explained, shrugging your shoulders as he nodded “you’re never gonna lose me.” Mikko was honest, you were (un)fortunately stuck with him for as long as time would allow.

You smiled “can I kiss you?” Your question made him grin like a schoolboy “I don’t recall you asking me to be your boyfriend.” His words made you roll your eyes as you went to go back into your apartment. 

Mikko shook his head wrapping his hand around your wrist to pull you back to him, his lips locked with yours before you had a chance to berate him. The kiss made your head buzz, feeling his hands grip at your sides “wait.” You pulled away, raising your hand to stop him. 

He grew concerned, wondering if he had overstepped “when do you leave?” Your question reminded him of the gloom that surrounded Colorado right now “only tomorrow afternoon.” You swore you were hearing angels sing around him. 

Mikko watched you push yourself onto your tippy toes so you could kiss him again “how about we spend your last night here then?” You smiled pecking his lips again. 

He smirked picking you up as he threw you over his shoulder “Meeks!” You squealed making him laugh “I couldn’t imagine a better way to spend it.” He brought you into your room wanting to spend the night the right way. 

Just one time when he didn’t have to think about the trade because right now that is tomorrow’s problem. Tonight, he wanted to enjoy being your boyfriend and he was certain that you’d enjoy it too.

[cottonlemonade]

Brushing Your Stress Away

word count: 1321 || avg. reading time: 6 mins.

pairing: University AU!Tsukishima x chubby!Reader

genre: spice with fluff

warnings: mdni

request: Hello!! can me and my dear Tsukki get an 11 and 23 for lunch before i procrastinate? || fluffy-spicy, dealing with exam stress + studying together with boyfriend Tsukishima

Tsukishima didn’t even flinch when the pen zoomed past his head, bounced off the wall, and landed perfectly in his hamper. Without looking up from his notes, he asked, “Tough chapter?”

You groaned and let yourself fall on your back, arms and legs outspread like a starfish, “I wanted to study art because I love painting, not because I love remembering dates! This is impossible!”

You dramatically flung an arm over your eyes to drive your point home that you were done with studying.

“Come on, only 32 more minutes on the timer.”, your boyfriend said, turning a page and pushing your art history book closer to you.

“No.”, you pouted, wiggling a foot in defiance, “Don’t wanna.”

“So, you plan on working in a museum as… what? A barista?”

Letting your arm fall off your face, you turned your head to look at him, “You could come visit me during your breaks.”

“Not likely. Coffee is disgusting.”

“Not the point, Kei.”

“Resign to your fate or study for another 31 minutes. Either way, stop whining. Some of us want to focus.”

You sat back up, squinting indignantly at your boyfriend, who skillfully ignored you as his eyes skimmed the pages.

Letting out a small huff of boredom, you looked around his bedroom. When he invited you to come spend the break with him in Miyagi you were excited, even more so when on the drive here he casually mentioned that you’d be alone because his older brother was staying at uni with his friends and his mother was away on some conference. But four days of your precious week had already passed without so much as a roaming hand.

On a whim, you reached for your pencil case to take out a cheap replica of an old artist’s brush - a small gift from the souvenir shop Kei had gotten you the last time you visited a museum together. Turning it in your fingers to have something to do, you stared at the page of your book, admiring the pictures at least.

Kei meanwhile, chewed the inside of his cheek, throwing a quick glance over his glasses at you. He knew he wasn’t doing a particularly great job as a boyfriend right now.

To not make it too obvious what he was looking forward to the most during this week together - uninterrupted alone time with no nosy roommate to worry about or forgetting his key and having to spend the rest of his night on a bench in front of his building - he had put together quite the itinerary under the guise of how much you’ve nagged him to show you his hometown (you asked once). Somehow, being in his childhood home after the months away at university made him almost shy. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought he felt guilty for bringing you here without telling his mother. However, if his shower thoughts were any indication, he wanted nothing more than to make use of the empty house with you - not seeming too eager, of course. He flipped a page without having read the previous one. Unless he finally acted on his impulses, you would return to academic life without even a good solid make-out session at this point.

A soft caressing sensation on his arm made him snap out of his thoughts. He found you running your brush along a faint vein on his wrist.

“What are you doing?”, he asked unnecessarily but didn’t pull away.

“Nothing.”

The smooth bristles followed his long fingers now one by one.

Without any conviction, he said instinctively, “Stop that.”, whilst really hoping you wouldn’t.

Luckily, you never listened to him, so instead you brought the brush up to his neck and tickled the sensitive spot under his ear. He shuddered and you laughed.

“You think this is funny?”, he asked.

“Hilarious, actually.”, you said.

He got to his knees and all too easily made you tumble backward, making sure to catch your head in his hand before towering over you. With a superior sneer, he took the brush from you.

“Let’s see how ticklish you are.”

Trapped between his long legs, you giggled and squirmed when he ran the brush under your chin, and you ducked your head between your shoulders to defend yourself. So he brought it to your ear.

“Stop!”

Your hand shot up to cover one side, but he just took this to mean he could attack the other. He sat back on his heels and in an attempt to hide the outline in his sweats, pursed his lips in fake pondering.

“Hmm… looks like you leave me no choice.”, he shrugged with a heavy sigh and unceremoniously lifted the hem of your shirt, making extra sure his palm, rough from the years of playing volleyball, dragged gently over your pillowy tummy as he did. You became very still, waiting for his next move. He felt you pressing your thighs together between his legs and scoffed while painting invisible lines on your skin as if he were sketching the outline of your bra.

“This is very much in the way.”, he said more to himself than to you and pulled a cup down from your breast. He leaned forward now, his free hand holding him up next to your head and with precise little teasing strokes he flicked the brush over your perked nipple. You made a small noise, one he loved to hear so much, so he did it again, and again.

“Pretty sure the other one is just as sensitive.”, he murmured and without warning, he pulled down the second cup, tucking it safely under your breast, then got the brush into position. You bucked your hips under him when he twirled the bristles this time.

“You’re right, this is fun.”, he noted and kissed you, not letting up on the teasing with the brush. You ground against him, making him gasp into the kiss.

“Will you finally focus on your studies if I give you what you want?” He had trouble catching his breath, was met with a very enthusiastic nod, and kissed you again.

Kei moved back, slowly dragging your sweats down with him, and had to suppress a dreamy groan. You were nothing short of perfection. With the pudgy tummy, the generous love handles, and full thighs you had always reminded him of beauty depicted in Renaissance paintings.

He shifted to lay on his stomach, propped up on his forearms, spinning the brush in his long fingers. A little spring of pride bubbled in his chest when he noticed a wet patch on your panties already.

The more he dragged the brush over the soaked fabric the more he noticed a definite gleam on the bristles. With the very tip of it, he focused on the pronounced little nub of your clit and was rewarded with a high moan. He was curious if he’d be able to make you cum just with a simple little painter’s brush when the door to his room slid open.

“WOAH!”

Akiteru spun around to look away.

“Sorry! I just heard a noise and - don’t mind me.”

“Why aren’t you in Tokyo?!”, Kei yelled in frustration, scrambling to his feet. A low rustling behind him told him you followed his example.

“Needed some fresh air?” His brother shrugged awkwardly, still with his back to him. “I’ll uhm… I’ll head to the convenience store. Should take me maybe 20 minutes. Do with that information what you will.”

He grabbed around behind him to find the handle before pulling the door closed again, then called from the hallway, “I’ll bring you some snacks!”

Kei exhaled, rubbing his eyes under his glasses, “I’m sorry… y/n, I- mfpg”, he was interrupted by you turning his head and yanking him down to you by the collar of his shirt to kiss him.

“You heard him, 20 minutes. Let’s go.”

a/n: reader was on mission! Thank you to the anon who requested this prompt! I hope you enjoyed it 🌟

[herbertten]

therapuss!

summary: justin agrees to be on his girlfriend’s best friend’s podcast

word count: 1.1k

When Jake suggested having Justin on his podcast Therapuss, Y/N honestly thought her boyfriend would politely decline. To her surprise, he was all for it. She’d always thought they had a cute older brother-younger brother dynamic, and she couldn’t wait for the world to see a new side of him.

But when the time came to film the episode, Justin was a bundle of nerves, frantically searching for the right outfit. He didn’t want to be overdressed, but definitely didn’t want to show up looking underdressed either. Y/N couldn’t help but smile as he ran in and out of his closet, holding up different options every few minutes. She’d tell him he looked fine in whatever he was wearing, but Justin was never satisfied, always finding something wrong.

After about twenty minutes of this, he threw in the towel and begged Y/N to choose for him. She giggled, planted a quick kiss on his lips, and headed to the closet. She picked out a dark green Nike sweatshirt, khaki shorts, and a black Nike hat.

“This was one of the first things I tried on,” Justin said, grabbing the outfit from her.

“It looked fine—just like half the stuff you tried on,” she said, flopping back on the bed. Justin plopped down beside her, looking like he was about to explode with nerves. He started talking about how anxious he was for the podcast. He knew Jake wouldn’t ask anything invasive, but he still worried he might say or do something that would rub people the wrong way.

Y/N reassured him that he had nothing to worry about—it was just a conversation, like any other. He smiled and pressed a quick kiss to her lips before putting on the outfit she had picked out for him.

“Hi Pussies, and welcome back to Therapuss! Today, I’m so excited to have the only NFL player I know, Los Angeles Chargers quarterback Justin Herbert!” Jake introduced as everyone in the studio clapped. Justin waved at the camera with his signature dorky smile. “Okay, Justin, before we get to know you, I wanna know—what are you therapissed about today?”

“Therapissed?” Justin repeated, trying to think of something that had frustrated him. “I’ve got one. It takes a lot to upset me, but my biggest pet peeve is when people leave their shopping carts anywhere but the cart return. Y/N and I went to the store today, and the parking lot was packed. We thought we’d found the perfect spot, but as I pulled into it—boom!—there’s a cart right in the way.” Jake giggled as Justin continued. “The worst part? The cart return was right across from the spot.”

Jake nodded, chuckling. “I think I’ve only seen you truly upset once, and I’ve known you for about a year.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty chill, but when it comes to my family, I can lose it. Like, commentators can say whatever they want about me—I really don’t care. The NFL is tough, and it’s not easy. But when Y/N and I started dating, it felt like everyone’s focus was on her, and it was just frustrating.”

Jake smirked. “I actually wanted to talk to you about that. You’ve got this ‘I’m just a chill guy’ vibe, so it’s funny to see you get those little bursts of frustration—especially in games or in the media. Like, remember that game in Vegas this year? Y/N brought me, and we were sitting above the field, and I still heard you shout, ‘What are you waiting for?’ That was scary.”

“Yeah, well, that’s football for you,” Justin shrugged, trying to act casual. “I’m nothing like that off the field.”

The conversation flowed easily from there. Jake asked about Justin’s growing up in Eugene, his time at the University of Oregon, and how he’d probably have been a doctor if football hadn’t worked out. Y/N was excited to see her boyfriend open up, especially with the cameras rolling.

“I remember how obsessive Y/N was about you when you first started dating,” Jake laughed, glancing at Y/N, who buried her face in her hands. “When you became a TCL partner, she’d see those TV boxes everywhere, and it was her mission to take a picture with every single one.”

“I’m so lucky to have her,” Justin said, grinning.

“Okay, I’m gonna throw up,” Jake joked, putting his hand over his heart.

“Every time I look at her, I just wonder how every person who’s had the chance to meet her hasn’t fallen for her, even just a little bit.”

Justin smiled at Y/N, who returned his look. She knew how much he loved her. He showed it in every way he could, but it never stopped making her heart skip a beat.

“You two are the worst,” Jake sighed, shaking his head. “I genuinely hate you two so much.”

“Jake, we’ve had this conversation before,” Justin teased. “I’m totally ready to put you on one of those dating shows. Love Island would be perfect for you.”

The podcast wrapped up about 20 minutes later, and Jake and Justin filmed a few promotional videos and took some photos for social media before everyone headed out for lunch. The vibe was light and easy—lunch was more like a hangout than anything else. The podcast crew was small, and they were all good friends of Y/N and Jake, so it felt more like a family gathering than a work event.

Once it was time to go home, Y/N and Justin dropped Jake off at his place. The entire drive there, the trio sang along to their favorite songs,as if they were on an episode of Carpool Karaoke.

“Thanks so much, Mom and Dad!” Jake teased as he got out of the car. He gave Justin their signature handshake, the one that Y/N still had no idea when or how they’d come up with it, but she loved every time they did it. “Justin, thanks for coming on the pod. I can’t wait for it to come out!”

Y/N laughed, watching them. “You two are ridiculous.”

Jake turned to her with a grin. “And thank you for letting me ‘borrow your boyfriend’ for an hour,” he said, throwing her a wink.

“Anytime,” she replied with a teasing smile.

Once Jake was out of the car and waving goodbye, Y/N and Justin headed home. The whole way, Y/N couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. “Thanks for doing that,” she said, glancing over at Justin.

“Of course. I’d take any chance to talk about you for an hour,” he replied with a grin, his fingers intertwining with hers as he kissed the back of her hand. She squeezed his hand, smiling even more. “You’re such a dork”

“I mean it,” Justin said, his tone sincere. “You’re my favorite topic.”

Y/N's heart fluttered, and she leaned her head on his shoulder as they drove, feeling completely at peace

[silverhypnos]

Unpopular Spider Opinion

Chrollo and the rest of the Spiders don't actually like the scarlet eyes as a valuable item.

I see so many fanarts of Chrollo admiring the scarlet eyes but I honestly think the canon Chrollo doesn't even like them. It's not just because of the backstory of Sarasa's dismembered body.

There are a lot of hints throughout the manga and anime that actually imply their lack of interest.

Other than nen, usually when it came to things the spiders were interested in were material goods that could be used. Books, Games, food, etc. We never really see them show any interest in objects that are "pretty to look at"

Since most of them are from Meteor City, it's kind of hard to imagine them enjoying the luxury of something that is just aesthetic. I think people imagine Chrollo as different from his friends as someone who could potentially enjoy that kind of luxury, but I also think the main reason why people feel that way is partly due to how other characters describe him. Mainly how Hisoka, a character that was confirmed to be a fickle pathological liar described him. I'm a firm believer that Hisoka was purposely twisting his description of Chrollo to convince Kurapika that teaming up was the only rational solution. We know the "The spider won't stop moving until the head is crushed" is a lie. So why are the fandom so convinced that everything else must be true? Hisoka described Chrollo as someone who admires everything he steals and then gets bored of it and sells it off. Funny, we never get to see him admire any of the merchandise that the Spider's successfully steals. Everyone chooses to celebrate instead and we see him sitting on the boxed merchandise as if it were a stool and drinking beer.

Later when the Spiders finally made the connection that the Chain User was probably a survivor of the Kurta clan. Remember what Chrollo asked?

Chrollo, a man who is constantly depicted as an admirer of the scarlet eyes by the fandom had NO IDEA if the scarlet eyes were even being sold in the first place. "But it could be easy to forget with all that merchandise!!"

Sure, but the scarlet eyes were the LAST ITEM that got sold off. The only person who remembers is Kortopi because he had to use his Nen.

Usually, people will remember the first and last item unless they personally don't give a shit about it. Heck, Pakunoda was ON STAGE, and even she didn't say anything. (Granted Pakunoda does show a reluctance to speak her mind sometimes but still.)

I honestly don't think any of the Spiders, including Chrollo give a shit about the scarlet eyes. Their backstory and their behavior during the YorkShin arc only reinforce that. Is it possible that five years ago, Chrollo might have been interested when they killed the Kurta clan, (assuming the Togashi isn't trying to pull a plot twist on us and reveal a different culprit) Sure, it's possible. But it sounds like it's unlikely he'd be interested in them for that long, why obsess over a pair of eyeballs when there is a good book right over there? Don't get me wrong, I get the artistic appeal, and I assume MOST of the artists are doing it for the artistic appeal rather than if it feels canon based on the source material. But I wanted to share my opinion because I rarely see this kind of take. Usually, people depict Chrollo as being obsessed with Kurapika even though he really isn't. Kurapika is the one who is obsessed with killing the Spiders (For good reasons) but the obsession isn't mutual.

[sennenpharaoh]

---

"Let me go! Get me out of here! What do you want with me?!"

Atem kept trying to reach out to Roy, who appeared to drift further and further away, out of his reach and almost out of his sight. Looking around he noticed something. He was neither in his Soul Room nor was he in the other's Throne Room. His body was still on the blanket in the quiet meadow, but his mind, or rather... both minds were in this limbo of darkness, the figure of his Colonel barely in view now.

"You..." He turned to glare at his "attacker", eyes showing a flicker of red. "You have one chance to bring me back to my Colonel before I execute you myself, or better yet have him set you ablaze!"

The other, a figure looking remarkably close to Atem's visage, save for one glaring difference: the highlights in his eyes and the corrupted circle upon his head, did nothing but scoff and release his grip on Atem.

Hmm. Swearing your life to him and already making him your attack dog. Funny, I thought you said you weren't going to compare him to your magician.

"Can it, you Monster! What is it you want from me?!"

Always with what I want... when you really should be asking yourself... if this is what you want.

"I said yes. How much more clear do you need me to be?"

Hmm. You did. Then I shouldn't have to tell you just who it is you said yes to, now do I? You and your little sob story about your own crimes... you never once thought of his own crimes, now did you?

"There's nothing to think about, no crime that he-"

So... what you're saying is you're okay with what he did to that nation. Is that it?

"That's not..." Atem began to approach the other in rebuttal before stopping, placing a hand to his chest.

"Don't... even bother trying to bring that up. I've said it to him and I'll say it to you. My thoughts towards what he's done are irrelevant. It doesn't matter what I think. I'm not the one he's... that got hurt."

The other raised an eyebrow.

So... all those people... all those families. A nation full of innocent people. They don't matter to you, do they... Pharaoh? The only ones that matter to you are your own people.

"Stop... saying that. I have... no right..."

All of those families. All of those children. You even dreamt it that very night, didn't you? To your own former Kingdom. Dreams are one thing, what he did actually happened. All those innocent lives gone in one... simple... snap.

A simple fingersnap from the other caused the area around Atem to light up in flames, forcing Atem to shield his eyes from the bright light. It wasn't just the light he had to shield himself, though. From out of nowhere he could hear panicked screaming, but it was not just one... it was many. Tens. Hundreds. Thousands. Tens of thousands. The screaming sounded so familiar, as he had heard it only one other time: when he heard it through a certain archive.

"Stop it." Atem covered his ears. "This changes nothing. Make it stop and give me back my Colonel!"

He's right behind you. Do you not hear him calling to you?

Atem...

That voice! He recognized that voice immediately. That was Roy's! He had to be calling out to him, trying to snap him out of this! He just had to!

"Colonel, I'm right h-" Atem turned around in the direction of the voice, seeing his Colonel... but froze when he saw a differently dressed Colonel. No longer in his fancy casual attire, this Roy was in his blue military outfit, a white overcoat covering his uniform, along with white gloves on his hands, one of which was raising and reaching towards Atem.

"C... Colonel...?"

Look upon him, Pharaoh. This is who you said yes to. This is who you decided to spend the rest of your life with. He says he wants to have a family with you, but who is he to ask of that when so many other families have been burnt to ash with his own hands? Tell me, Pharaoh! Who are you looking at right now?

"Stop it." He grasped his chest, that uncomfortable feeling beginning to creep up yet again. "I have no right to..."

Tell me who you're looking at right now! The Colonel of yours who wants to start a family with you... or the one who has put to death countless families with his blood soaked hands? Colonel... or...

---

"Stop it... I... I have no right to..."

Atem, still motionless, was completely unaware that his hand was being held or that Roy was anywhere near him. His gaze was blank, it was as if he was in a trance. The only semblance of consciousness was his soft muttering that if leaned in close one could hear him.

"C... C... Col..."

His voice seemed to be in a struggle, vacant violet eyes showed no signs of any emotion. However... amongst the violet... a flicker of red began to take them, a familiar flicker of red. His body once again began to stiffen and bristle up. Though as he opened his mouth, his body seemed... in conflict. His hands seemed shaky but were also still, and despite the growing flicker of red in his eyes... two of the smallest droplets slowly ran down his barely dried face. All as he sputtered one simple word.

"...M..."

"Murderer..."

Kiss after kiss, the moment seemed so beautiful. His heart feeling happy and full from the fact they were now engaged to be married, to take the next step in life together.

Roy knew that this was going to be its own adventure in and of itself, but he knew they could do it together. "You don't have to apologize, Atem. You know I'll accept you for all that you are. I would always wait for you to catch up and catch you." He assured him, cupping his cheek softly before pulling away.

Roy noticed him shakily about to reach out for the ring when he noticed his body stilled and his eyes didn’t look bright or emotional anymore. Roy wasn’t sure what was going on, but it worried him it was in his features and he grabbed his hand feeling him not really react but all he could hear was the soft words continuously mumbling.

“Atem, are you okay? Speak to me please.” Worry in his voice as he waits for something to happen. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but he would be here to ride everything out regardless.

This was familiar, if he remembered correctly this happened when Roy told him that he wasn't being honest with him about his feelings and that's when he acted completely different and was telling him things that he himself would never say, as if he was completely separate from Atem.

Roy knew that was Atem though, it seemed that side was a darker side to him, at least that's what he said himself. One that he knew he didn't want Roy seeing when he did and that was when he ran all the way to the park with Roy running after him and then they confessed to each other at the park.

What was he going to do? He would just have to do his best to prepare himself mentally for what was to come.