#though i was watching something while drawing this

[bnanamlkluvr]

Bewitched, body and soul

pairing: Vampire!Choi San x Chubby!Human!Reader word count: 1.5k tags: 18+ slightly suggestive, vampire/human relationships, praise kink, worship, AFAB reader, gender-neutral pet names (sweetheart, my love, my heart), no use of pronouns, teasing, thigh biting, blood-drinking summary: San exists through his days thinking about you, drinking from you, obeying you. He'd fall to his knees, beg, and await if it meant that he would be rewarded with your praise. author's note: please note that the pictures used in the banner are for aesthetic purposes only, they are not physical representations of the reader in any way, shape, or form.

"Please..."

A smirk made its way to your face, watching your boyfriend sink into the skin of your palm; soft and drifting within the depths of your touch─drowning in the comfort of your cradle. Although he seemed to be in a serene lovestruck state, there was a dark and infatuated hunger beneath the deep crimson pool in his eye. The plea that fell from his lips was quivering and desperate. You could see the tips of his fangs poking out, growing longer inch by inch the more his gaze stayed fixated on you─a vampiric trait that you had found to grow to love.

"Ah, ah, ah, use your words, Sannie." You purred, shifting your hand to grasp his chin.

San pouts─something you wouldn't normally see a mythical spawn of the night do, but here he was─and drooped in your hold, "Please, my love, I need you."

"Why should I give it to you? What did you do to deserve it?"

"I've been good the whole night, I swear it."

You shook your head, clicking your tongue at his noncompliance, "That's not what I asked, Sannie."

"Please..."

There was something so arousing at the sight of such a beguiling and powerful creature who had the strength of ten men kneeling at your feet, willingly surrendering himself to you, that almost made you just give in to his pleas, "Oh, how could I ever say 'no' to a face like yours?" You see San's pupils dilate, but before he could stand to his full height, your hand moves to lightly push him back on his knees, "But you will work for it."

In a hungry haze of not wanting to prolong it, San eagerly nodded his head, "Anything for you, my heart."

You thumb his trembling lower lip in heavy fondness and arousal. Obsessed with his willingness to submit to you─and only you. It is solely within your presence that he is able to easily control his bloodlust, allowing himself to foster a formidable sense of calmness and resilience when he gets hungry. You watch in admiration as he opens his mouth, fangs now in full view─sharp and awaiting─to your half-lidded gaze, and envelops your digit into his mouth.

San slightly nibbles on the pad, not enough to draw blood, but enough to elicit a gasp from you, prompting him to flutter his eyes closed. His hands move to softly grasp your wrist, keeping you still. In that moment, you feel his tongue circulating every inch of your skin. Languidly yet greedy. As if he was getting off on this.

And he definitely is. Subtly humping the air with no shame whatsoever.

You breathlessly call out his name, and he instantly stops his actions. Attention now narrowing solely back to you. In all honesty, you feel like a little mouse on a lion's paw even though you offered─only difference in this dynamic is the fact that it's him at your mercy.

The predator, bound to the control of its prey.

Pride swells within you, "Hmmmm... such a good boy." A whimper erupts from his throat causing you to chuckle and continue, "If you can survive the rest of the night and hold your thirst with this, maybe I can reward you with more... somewhere else." You run your thumb along the length and sharp tip of his fangs, deliberately teasing his vampiric senses, while your other hand trails its fingers up the expanse of your thigh.

San's gaze immediately follows your action, wide and eager. Something shifted beneath them. One that meant there was no taking back what you said now.

Before you could react or say anything else, the next thing you felt was the familiar sharp pain of San's fangs piercing through the skin of your thumb. You winced, sucking in a sharp breath. Even after the number of times he's done this, it's something you still need to get used to. You shuddered at the sensation─a throbbing, mind-numbing, tingling sensation burning your nerves.

You hear your lover whimper out a few hungry words, "so good," "more please," "fuck, sweetheart..." each time he swallows. You feel him the way he takes in small gulps; his broad shoulders staggering in deep breaths, and eyelids shut tight. Everything controlled and patient, as if deathly afraid that his instincts might kick in and drink you dry.

But you trust San enough to know he wouldn't allow it.

As quickly as he dove in, the pain subsided. Replaced with toe-curling pleasure, like an aphrodisiac infiltrated your veins and senses. The haze of it rapidly filled the confines of your small bathroom. A freight train of blistering ecstasy hit you hard causing your tongue to roll out the most pornographic moan. San responded in a deep, resounding growl, and your walls shook violently.

The moment you slightly tug back your thumb, San immediately stops. You instantly melt when you see his eyes─now returned to their natural color─brimming with concern and guilt, mouth─lips blood-soaked─agaped, and hands grasping yours to move to cup his face.

"I'm sorry, my love. Did I hurt you?"

"Of course not, my beautiful Sannie." You reassure him with short sweeps of your thumb on his cheeks before turning to grab a few wet wipes on the bathroom sink, "C'mon, let's get you cleaned up and meet back with the others. Seonghwa and Yunho are probably looking for us. You'll get your reward later."

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Finally.

San lets out a trembling breath of relief before inhaling the scent of your arousal. He was far gone now; deep, dominant red consumes his senses and vision, but is quickly subdued by the whimper he tried so desperately to keep in.

"Patience, Sannie... We'll get there..."

Your voice suddenly puts his train of thought to an abrupt stop. He looks up at you, eyes glossy and begging. San admires the sight in front of him; your plush, half-naked body sprawled out on the couch with legs spread on top of his shoulders, your chest rising and falling at a steady pace with each breath intake, and your beautiful eyes staring into his own. If it wasn't for his need to feed, San would have just spent the rest of the evening ogling you─actually, if he were being honest, San would rather drink and live off the vision of your other essence, your figure, than all the blood in the world.

He really wished something like that were possible. It's weird to think about, but he couldn't care less; at least he wasn't hurting you.

"Don't want to rush and soil your meal now, do we?"

"No, my love." He breathes carefully.

You hum in approval as your fingers run through his dark hair; a gesture that San constantly craves every time he feeds.

"Go on, then."

With your cue, his lips press over your skin─earning him once again a cute gasp from you. San doesn't stop there; he then starts to leave a trail of soft kisses around the area. Every peck was laced with his undying affection for you, his devotion to exist at your mercy, an eternity's promise to be constantly filled with you.

Soon enough, his fangs come out and sink into your soft warmth, giving way like a ripe melon, flooding every inch of his mouth with your rich, sweet blood. His hands gripping onto your thigh with fingers kneading into the smooth, dough-like flesh as if his life depended on it─and it kinda did. You convulse under his hold as he draws deeper, greedily gulping, relishing in the sensation of it filling his veins. San could pick up hints of your desire and longing ache; waves of your endorphine consume his taste buds for what is supposed to be a deathly pain eases into a pleasurable addiction. There is no power in San to glance at you because if he does, he knows he'll break.

Your fingers continue to twirl around his dark strands, and San revels in the stark contrast of your sweet and comforting gesture compared to his selfish and intoxicated need.

San could feel your blood pooling against the bottom half of his face, causing him to groan in a frustrated yet lewd manner. The serenade of your moans and choked gasps, along with the breath-soft pleas that fell from your lips like a gentle refrain, coming from the depths of your throat, overstimulates San's senses; making his eyes to roll back in his head in high.

He finally detaches from his feast, reluctant at first but satiated enough to realize and stop. The buzz of his appetite was easing back into him as San sighed in contentment. His gaze fixated on the bite mark on your thigh, mesmerized by blood still slowly oozing out of the broken skin. Without hesitation and not wanting to waste it, San's tongue dances along the surface of your skin; the wet muscle lapping up everything it can, savoring every taste. Your breathy moans cloud his subconscious, dragging him deeper into the euphoric haze.

It's no help that the tantalizing scent of your arousal coming from in between your legs adds to the weight of the pull. He's so certain he's on the brink of losing his mind and drinking more if it weren't for you tugging the roots of his hair.

"Sannie..." You panted, "Please..." Spreading your thighs wider.

Fuck.

He licks his bottom lip, "I got you, sweetheart..."

Then, with a newfound desire and his blood-stained face, San eagerly connects his mouth to your awaiting and dripping sex.

A/N: holy fuckin' airball chat, i love this man

[the-librarby]

Single dad Simon and Teacher reader II

Simon is the girl dad. He doesn’t make a fuss about it when his daughter wants to paint his nails, he’ll just zone out and watch tv while she does it — silently thankful that she’s just sitting down and not running around the house.

She wants to try out that new eyeshadow he let her buy on him? Sure, whatever you want bub, he’s sitting his ass down and letting her do whatever she wants.

He draws the line about wearing it in public though, a hard sacrifice since his daughter works so hard to make him look like something out of a glitter-fied horror movie.

Damn glitter never washes all the way off though, it’s around his eyes and cheeks for weeks after. Coworkers and parents alike can see it when he goes to work or picks her up from school.

The only one with the balls to comment on it though is his daughter’s teacher.

“Birthday party last weekend?” You question.

He tilts his head as if he misheard, “Sorry?” He asks, “No, her birthday isn’t for another couple months,”

You frown curiously but probe further, “Dress up party then?”

His daughter gasps and looks up at him, “We’re having a dress up party? When?”

He looks down at her and shakes his head before looking back at you, completely lost on your line of questioning, “No,” he starts, “No dress up party, sorry, what are you talking about?”

You laugh, quite embarrassed now at your double wrong guess, “Sorry,” you apologise, gesturing to your own eyes and cheeks, “You’ve just got—glitter?” You question, “On your face, I’m just curious is all.”

Oh. That’s mortifying. Simon instinctively reaches for his face to rub off what he already has assumed is indestructible glitter, destined to be glued to his face forever. Before he has the chance to explain himself, his daughter speaks on his behalf.

“I gave dad a makeover,” she announces, utterly proud and laughing loudly at how ridiculous it all seems. You look shocked at first but then join in on her laughter.

“Oh!” You draw out, explanation suddenly making sense, “Did he look pretty?”

She scrunches her nose, “No,” she says bluntly. Simon wishes the concrete would crack underneath him and swallow him whole, he shuts his eyes and shakes his head.

“Ouch,” you grimace, looking over at him, “Tough critic,”

“I’m never enough for her,” he grunts, completely serious.

His daughter laughs and turns around to hug him, she looks up at him with those big half moon eyes from the massive grin on her face, “I can do better this time! I’ll make you look prettier—like a princess!”

Simon mourns the idea of more glitter being put on his face, he’s already plotting ways to hide it get rid of that damn makeup set.

You laugh and crouch down in a mock stage whisper into her ear, “Make sure you get photos next time okay? Maybe we can share them with the class,”

“No fuc—” he cuts himself off at your knowing eyebrow raise and exhales deeply, “No photos, and no more glitter, this stuff is a pain to get off,”

You smile and concede, standing back up to your full height, “Ah well,” you sigh, “Tried my best,”

“I can make you a drawing.” his daughter suggests eagerly.

You nod happily at the compromise and agree to receive a drawing once she returns after the weekend. Simon would hate you for it, but the task kept his daughter occupied all weekend. She really set her mind to the task, got out all her best pencils, made sure they were sharpened, and used her best colouring techniques to really capture her father’s looks.

You couldn’t help but make a big deal of it on Monday when she handed it to you with that big satisfied grin on her face. She explained every detail and idea which made you very proud to hear how much effort she put in.

And when you asked Simon if you had helped with her drawing after the bell he kindly asked if you could burn it and never speak of it again.

The drawing is secretly kept folded in your desk drawer, only to look at it when you need a laugh.

[justboredtingz]

The Kissing Game || JJK Edition

Just a little smooching with the jjk men :) i left out some boys but if you want the others i can do that for you huhuhuhu~ guess who you’re kissing before the endddd :))

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You’re not exactly sure how it came to this.

One minute, you’d been sitting around with them trading teasing jabs, laughing too loud, feeling a little too warm from whatever you were all drinking. The next, someone had dared you to let yourself be blindfolded. To trust them enough to give up your sight and guess who was kissing you.

You should have said no.

But here you are, a smooth strip of fabric tied snugly over your eyes, your heart hammering so hard you think they can all hear it. Every shuffle of footsteps sounds closer than it probably is, every breath feels like it might be right at your ear.

You’re stood with your back against the wall, fidgeting your fingers. You can sense them moving around you, their voices low and amused, a little too pleased with themselves.

You wet your lips, trying to steady your breathing.

This was supposed to be harmless. A game.

But now, every inch of you is strung tight with anticipation, because any moment now, someone will lean in, their mouth will find yours, and you’ll have to figure out who it is by the way they kiss you.

You swallow, your fingers twisting nervously in your lap.

God help you—this might be the most dangerous thing you’ve ever agreed to.

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Your back presses to the cool wall, the blindfold tight over your eyes. Every breath feels too loud. A featherlight touch grazes your jaw—a fingertip, tracing a lazy curve as though he’s sketching exactly where his mouth will go.

You feel him lean in close enough for the tips of his hair to brush your cheek. He smells fresh—mint and something just a little sweet, like he finished a sweet treat right before approaching you.

A soft exhale fans your lips, and then—nothing. A beat of charged silence, like he’s grinning, waiting to see if you’ll squirm.

When he finally kisses you, it’s with an easy boldness that makes you want to sink into the wall. He starts slow, a teasing pull at your bottom lip, before he drags his mouth away just barely, letting them drag against yours featherlight. He’s teasing, you can feel the intensity behind his eyes watching your reaction.

Then he’s back, lips pressing harder, tongue slipping past yours with a playful flick that leaves your pulse hammering. One hand cups your cheek, thumb smoothing along your jaw, while the other coasts down to the small of your back to draw you closer.

He kisses like it’s a game he’s already won—taunting you with the practiced way he tilts your chin up, the sly little hum he lets out when you can’t help the sound that escapes you.

When he pulls back, your lips feel warm, tingling from the way he’d stolen every bit of air. You can almost feel the smirk he doesn’t bother to hide.

“…Gojo.”

A laugh curls against your cheek, soft and triumphant.

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You hear the measured rhythm of his steps before you feel him. Steady. Grounded. The warmth of his body draws closer, and a large palm settles flat against your chest—broad, reassuring, a quiet reminder that he’s here and you’re safe.

No teasing. No testing. Just a calm exhale as he leans in.

His mouth finds yours in a kiss that feels what you could define as perfect—sure and anchored, lips firm without being forceful. There’s no uncertainty in it, no performance. Just the simple honesty of a man who never does anything halfway.

He tastes faintly of dark roast coffee and smells of something clean, like the faint trace of aftershave on his collar. One hand shifts to cradle the side of your neck, steadying you as though he knows you’re already trembling a little.

When he parts your lips with a careful tilt of his head, the kiss deepens by degrees. One so unhurried, almost solemn in its sincerity. He doesn’t chase or tease. He just kisses you thoroughly, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to claim this space between heartbeats.

When he finally eases back, his thumb sweeps along your throat, a silent question. Your body feels heavy and warm, every nerve soothed under the deliberate steadiness of his touch.

“…Nanami.”

A breath leaves him, softer than a sigh, and for a moment his hand lingers as though he isn’t quite ready to let you go.

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There’s an unsteady weight in the air, thick with something so earnest it leaves you anxious.

His breath wavers near your ear, shaky in a way that makes your heart flutter. A careful hand hovers, then lands lightly against your ribs, feeling the frantic rise and fall of each breath.

When he leans in, you brace for hesitation, but instead he kisses you with a focused gentleness that surprises you. His lips are warm, tentative, moving slowly as if he’s determined to get it exactly right.

The first pass of his tongue is cautious, tasting you in a careful sweep that makes your chest tighten. He pauses, breathing you in, and then kisses you again, deeper this time, gathering confidence with each muffled gasp you give him.

You catch a whiff of something coppery at the edges, like iron and rain, but it’s not a bad smell.

One hand finds your waist, flexing uncertainly before settling in a light grip that never quite becomes possessive. When your lips part fully for him, his tongue tangles with yours in a slow, searching glide that feels almost reverent.

Every few moments, he breaks the kiss to draw a shaky breath against your cheek, only to return again, as if he can’t help himself. He needs to go back for seconds, for thirds.

When he finally pulls away, your mouth feels swollen and tender, every nerve alight, your head fuzzy.

“…Choso.”

He doesn’t speak, but the soft, unsteady sound he lets out says everything.

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You don’t hear him come closer, steps as light as a cats, but the heat coming off of his body tells it all, a heavy certainty pressing in until your breath goes shallow.

A thumb drags lazily over your lower lip, testing your resolve. He doesn’t bother with pretense. Just the slow curl of a smirk you can somehow sense in the darkness.

Then his mouth finds yours in a kiss so precise, so thoroughly confident, your whole body tenses.

His lips part immediately, tongue stroking yours in a coaxing rhythm that feels both indulgent and commanding. He tastes of spiced warmth—smoke and something like clove, rich and intoxicating.

His free hand drops to your hip, sliding around to the small of your back and pulling you in until there’s no space left to hide. He uses his own lips to tilt your head up, it’s a smooth motion that leaves you at the perfect angle for him to deepen the kiss, claiming every inch of you he can reach.

He doesn’t rush. Each pass of his mouth feels deliberate, like he wants to brand you with the memory of this. Your body arches helplessly under the heavy press of his hips, and a quiet, dark laugh vibrates against your lips when you whimper into him. This kiss is deep, sensual, a kiss you would only give to someone you’re making love to, and it leaves you shaky.

When he finally pulls back, your lungs burn with the need to breathe, but he doesn’t let you go—just draws his thumb along your lip with lazy satisfaction.

“…Geto.”

He brushes a last slow kiss to your throat, a promise you feel all the way to your toes.

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You feel the sudden drag of heat along your skin as a big hand settles firmly at your thigh.

For a moment, he just stands there, his breath rough against your temple, as if savoring the anticipation.

Then he moves. One powerful arm scoops behind your knee, hauling you up against his chest. A startled sound tears from your throat as your back thuds against the wall and your leg hooks over his hip, grabbing at his shoulders for balance.

His other hand grips the curve of your ass in a possessive hold that makes your heart lurch.

His mouth finds yours in a kiss that’s nothing short of ravenous. He doesn’t ease you in, just parts your lips with a low growl and claims you with a slow, hungry slide of tongue that leaves you gasping.

He tastes earthy and dark, like salt and smoke, and the scrape of his teeth against your lower lip sends a sharp ache low in your belly.

Every time you try to pull back, he drags your hips closer, grinding you down against the hard line of his body. The heat coils until you’re trembling, your hands fisting in his shirt for balance you can’t seem to find.

He doesn’t give you a chance to catch your breath. His tongue explores every inch of your mouth with a punishing thoroughness that makes your head spin.

When he finally breaks the kiss, you’re left panting, your legs locked tight around him. You have to catch your breath before you can speak:

“…Toji.”

He rumbles a pleased sound in his throat and swipes a large thumb across your lips, wiping the saliva left behind.

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The moment he steps near, the air thickens, charged with something primal that makes your pulse trip over itself.

Two fingers drag up the column of your throat, slow and unhurried, tracing your frantic heartbeat. When they close into a sure, unrelenting grip, your breath shudders out in a ragged gasp.

His other hand slams to the wall beside your head, his body crowding yours with a dominance so absolute it makes your stomach clench.

He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t warn you.

His mouth crashes into yours with a brutal certainty, teeth scraping at your lip as he forces you open. The first stroke of his tongue is a hot, invasive claim that leaves no room for resistance.

You’re unsure of what exactly you’re tasting, but the faint sweetness of something warns you not to crave it.

Your hands fly to his shoulders, trying to push him back or pull him closer, you can’t tell which. Every attempt only makes his grip on your throat tighten, cutting off the air until your senses spark white behind the blindfold.

When you finally go pliant under the weight of his kiss, he hums low in his chest, pleased. Each sweep of his tongue is a challenge, a deliberate corruption that makes your knees threaten to give out.

When he tears his mouth away, you drag in a ragged breath, every nerve burning.

“…Sukuna.”

A dark laugh ghosts over your cheek, and he doesn’t loosen his grip.

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You’re trembling when you finally reach up, fingers clumsy, and pull the blindfold away.

Your vision swims for a moment, adjusting to the bright light—and then you see them.

All of them.

Standing in a loose semicircle, watching you with expressions that make your pulse skitter and your mouth go dry.

Gojo is the first to break the hush, a wicked smile curving his lips as he leans back against the wall, arms folded, white hair gleaming under the lights. His gaze slides deliberately over your kiss-swollen mouth before meeting your eyes, glinting with amused challenge.

“So,” he drawls, voice low and edged with a husky note he doesn’t bother to hide, “who kissed the best?”

Your throat works around the sudden dryness, heat pooling low in your belly as your gaze drifts over each of them—Nanami’s steady, watchful stare, Choso’s flushed cheeks, Geto’s knowing smirk, Toji’s heavy-lidded hunger, Sukuna’s predatory amusement.

You swallow hard. You can still feel each of their mouths on you—taste them, almost—your body thrumming with the impossible knowledge that whoever you name is about to claim you all over again.

Gojo tilts his head, blue eyes glinting. “Be honest,” he purrs, and you know by the wicked slant of his smile that he’s already decided how this is going to end.

“Because whoever did…” His voice lowers to a dark promise as he pushes off the wall, closing the distance until he’s towering over you again, gaze locked to your lips.

“…is taking you home tonight.”

The silence stretches, hot and electric, as you draw a shaky breath—your heart thundering in your ribs.

And when you finally open your mouth to answer, you know exactly what you’re inviting.

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[bambiihee]

Can you write something for Jake? Like you guys were having a sleepover, watching scary movies then suddenly y’all get freaky.

been craving jake biblically recently… need him

c𝔴༚ smut, nsfw content. roommates au, marijuana, cowgirl, soft dom!jake, fem!reader, unprotected sex, dirty talk, piv, itty bit of size kink if you squint, frat boy!jake, slut!jake

stoner!jake as your loser roommate; he looks like your typical frat boy on the outside, but he’s secretly just a total nerd!! sure hes got a reputation around campus for being a total slut, but is that really his fault when his lip bites can make the strongest woman fall to her knees… even you, unfortunately, though you pretend you’re not interested. he’s too much of a flight risk, parties, smokes and plays video games too much and cleans nowhere near enough. he’s not your type, you tell yourself.

but jake is just soooo good at getting you to spend time with him against your will, his pretty face and big puppy eyes asking you to smoke a joint and watch a scary movie with him 🥺 it’s impossible to tell him no… plus, it’s a movie you haven’t seen before and want to watch. jake is just an.. added bonus.

you try to sit and just watch the movie, as he inches closer and closer across the couch, burns through a joint with you and starts on another one before you’ve hit the hour mark. then his knee his touching yours,, and then when he passes the joint to you his hand lingers on your thigh… all the while giving you looks you can’t stand, grinning and licking his lips like an invitation…

just as it’s not jake’s fault for being so sexy, it’s not your fault that you fall for his charms! how can you possibly act like your belly’s not on fire when he whispers and laughs all hot and breathy in your ear?? maybe it’s the high breaking down your defenses, but you find yourself acting on your impulses without much thought. the movie’s completely forgotten about, the screams of the victims onscreen being drowned out by your high pitched moans and jake’s whines and grunts. you bounce on his lap with his big veiny hands groping your ass and hips, guiding you against him as your asscheeks jiggle and smack against his pelvis <3 ur pussy’s drippingwet n jake’s cock is dribbling pre, making everything so wet and slick, nasty plap plap plaps ringing in your ears.

“s-so fucking big!” you mewl in pleasure, fucked stupid and hardly able to string together a sentence, only able to sob out just how good you feel, “fuck, jakey, right there!”

“yeah? right there?” jake slams his hips up, fat flared cockhead rubbing up against your sweet spot and kissing your cervix. “you feel me in here, sweetheart?”

his hand comes to splay possessively over your stomach, pressing down to feel himself moving inside of you. it increases the pressure in your cunt tenfold, hot and dizzying, your wet gummy walls clenching hungrily around jake’s cock as if trying to draw him in impossibly deeper.

“so deep!” you hiccup pathetically, reaching back in a desperate blind attempt to ground yourself. you manage to grab a fistful of jake’s hoodie, tugging it hard and pulling him down closer to you. “i’m gonna cum, yun!”

“cum on my dick, baby.” he groans into your neck, plump spit slick lips and hot tongue marking up your skin, “been wanting to feel this pussy creamin’ around me since i first saw you— holy fuck, can i cum inside? please? god, i want to so bad, please, need to see this cunt dripping with me—“

[saosinn]

nsfw cam hcs to start the day off right :p

nsfw under the cut, afab/fem reader!

cam LOVESSS to finger you, like truly, sometimes he prefers it over you riding him, even though he loves that just as much.

he loves being able to see your face, but also loves being able to make you feel good. when you ride him, he'll always have you facing him so he can suck on your nipples (and he'll always make some poor joke about hoping milk will come out)

while he doesn't like the idea of people joining you two, he loves when people watch. not because it gets him off, but because he loves people seeing how good he makes you feel. his usage of nicknames isn't that high, but when someones watching, it's always "yeah, that' the spot, baby? yeah, that cunt feels so good, pretty girl." and "love the way you squeeze my cock, princess."

spit!!!!!!!! kink!!!!!!!!! him spitting in your mouth or vice versa, he loves it. it's so sleazy, so dirty and disgusting, that's what makes it arousing. when he eats you out he spits so much it's crazy, he makes such a mess it's insane, but more on that in a second. he doesn't spit on you to demean you, it's not some form of punishment. he adores when you spit back, and both of your lips should be wet when you break from a kiss or it wasn't good enough.

some people disagree with me here, but i don't think he minds giving head, in fact i think he loves giving and getting head. when he's giving head tho, he's knuckle deep and sucking on ur clit like sucker fish... sorry not sorry.

he has no shame when it comes to cum eating too, one time he was fingering you while you jerked him off, and when he came a bit of it got in his mouth on accident. now, whenever you're jerking him off, he'll tell you to be good with your aim

truly a pervert, and has no shame. when you bend over to grab something, he'll thrust his hips so hard into you it makes you fall forward. he'll grab your hips and pull you back onto his crotch, and when you say something about it he'll go "what? you were gonna eat shit, i saved your ass." all while grinding into you, even in front of people..

can and will push your legs as far back as they go when he's fucking you, presses his hand down on your stomach and will tease you when you squeak. the sight of his bulge while fucking you only makes him more hard, and he'll even bring a marker to draw a line where his tip reaches.... god he's so gross i love him.

— 𓈒 ❤︎︎ ࣪ ˖

7/6/25

i love gross men sorry not sorry 💔 also a poll will b posted tjis afternoon for my next piece so keep an eye out for that :p

[itzserein]

"Can you feel me now?"

Sophia Laforteza x Fem!reader no plot just pure smut, sub!Sophia, dom!reader, bondage, fingering, slight praise k!nk

Masterlist

A/n: would you guys believe that this is my first time writing smut ever? crazy haha I was supposed to upload this a few days ago but got busy and shit, anyways this was inspired by one of ace's asks (this specifically) hope you guys like it <3

You’re not fully aware of what you had gotten yourself into. Your thoughts were just all over the place at this moment and you were still here, trying to piece everything together.

After all, you never would have thought that your girlfriend was into that kind of stuff and yet here you were, watching as your gorgeous girlfriend moved her hips on your thigh, writhing her body and whimpering, while she begged for you to just move already.

You couldn't help but stare at the state she was in. Hands tied around her back, hair sticking all over due to the amount of sweat covering her, body littered with hickey's and bite marks, mouth wide open mid moan.

She looked helpless, and you couldn't help but feel proud that you were the one who had brought her into such a state.

The two of you were just having a simple conversation earlier about what you guys could do to improve your sex life and suddenly the topic of being tied up was brought to light. You thought that she was joking at first to be honest, but you're even more surprised when she suddenly brings out some handcuffs from one of your drawers that you didn't even know you guys had owned until now.

She smirked at your reaction, twirling the handcuffs around her hand like it was the most normal thing in the world "Wanna test it out?" she had said, teasingly.

The next thing you knew, you were leaned against the headboard, gripping onto her hips as she kept grinding, trying to gain some sort of pleasure since you weren't doing anything. It wasn't enough though, she needed more and you knew it, you knew that you needed to move to help your beautiful girl.

The only thing is you can’t, you were so entranced by the sight of her, just absolutely stunned by how gorgeous she looked on top of you with the marks you yourself left scattered all across her body.

It was wonderful, she is wonderful.

“Y/n please-” she lets out another whine, begging for you to just do something already.

It's only then you snap out of your trance, you knew that you needed to help her relieve herself. So without any warning, you plunged your finger into her, drawing out another moan from the girl.

“You look so pretty like this Soph” you mumbled under your breath, leaving light kisses on her neck.

The Filipina only moans louder at the compliment and without a second thought in her mind, she's bringing her hips down onto your hand. Sophia leans down onto your body overwhelmed by everything she was feeling and her body just completely surrendering to the pleasure it brought her.

Her head is buried into the crook of your neck, her moans muffled and you don't like that, not one bit.

You want to see Sophia, you want to hear each and every sound she makes loud and clear. You want to watch her fall apart for you. So you stop your movements, moving your other hand that is initially holding onto her waist moves up to her shoulder.

You push her upper body away from yours and grab her by the chin with that same hand just to make her look at you. You can't help but lick your lips as you see her dazed look and you'd honestly like to see Sophia like this more often. All fucked out just for you.

“Let me see you, I want to see you fall apart for me beautiful” you told her, not bothering to let her give you a proper reply as you slip a second finger inside of her tight pussy and thrust harder into her.

She gasps at this and whines, trying to free herself from the handcuffs so she could hold you close “Baby...please let me touch you at least?” she pleads again but you just chuckle, curling your fingers up on that sensitive spot in her that you know oh so well.

Sophia moans louder, eyes rolled back when she feels your fingers hit that particular spot in her but you tighten your grip on her jaw bringing her gaze back to you.

“Look at me baby”

And she does, despite everything she doesn't dare disobey you, afraid that you'll stop again. The Filipina could only moan out for you, whimpering about how good it feels and the fact that she couldn't do anything but grind her hips onto you harder was turning her on more than it should.

The more she tried to free herself from her restraints, the more helpless she felt and she unknowingly clenched harder around your fingers at the thought. You felt it and you smiled "Such a good girl, already gonna cum?"

She only nods, her moans coming out whinier and her hands that are restrained behind her become even more restless. Wanting to touch you, feel you in any sort of way but you ignore all this and just kiss her cheek "I've got you my good girl."

And as if on cue that brings her over the edge. The girl is shaking so violently that you have to wrap your arm around her and pull her closer to you, letting her know that she's okay and that you've got her. You slow down your pace not wanting to overstimulate her but you still do your best to milk every last drop from her.

Once you know that she's done you peck her lips multiple times, telling her how good she did for you.

When Sophia's calmed down you slowly remove your fingers making her groan at the loss of contact but she doesn't complain anymore than that. You laid her down on the bed beside you and reached out for the keys of the handcuffs to finally free her.

Her hands immediately go to, pulling you onto her and just hug you tightly. You could only smile at her clingyness "Are you alright baby?"

"Yes thank you so much" she says as she reaches up to kiss your jawline.

"We're definitely doing that again aren't we?" you ask and you laughed when she is immediately nodding a yes.

Safe to say your little test went better than expected.

wc: 1k

ctto for all pics used here

[virahaus]

Hi there! So, I’m new to the Star Wars fandom, and I’ve just recently discovered the Anakin x Obi-Wan ship — and I really love them already. Even though I haven’t started watching the movies or series yet, I really like the dynamic between Anakin and Obi-Wan.

I was wondering, what do you think about bottom!Anakin and top!Obi-Wan?

Because, even though there’s a bit of a balance in fanfics, it seems like there are slightly more bottom!Obi-Wan stories than bottom!Anakin ones.

But personally, I really want to find pages or channels that focus more on bottom!Anakin and top!Obi-Wan content :)))

I’d be really happy if you could help me out and recommend some channels or creators who analyze that dynamic well!

Hello there!

First of all, welcome to our obikin fandom! Always a pleasure to find new members.

Well, you have come to the right person about this because I'm the mod of the page @topwan-obikin which is focused on top!Obi-Wan/bottom!Anakin dynamic and I'm an author who writes that particular dynamic. You can say I very much love it eheh. In the topwan page I host the topwanfest and some other events focused on this dynamic, plus we also have a discord server who is open to all obikins who want to join!

I can also direct you to some incredible authors who write/draw top!Obi-Wan/bottom!Anakin, while some instead write them as vers, and also some fic recs! If you have any other requests/questions please let me know <3

@exonerin has a vast collection of fantastic topwan fics and I encourage you to check them out! My personal favourite is Eight of Cups because I'm a sucker for canon divergence fics and time/dymensional travel ahah

@tideswept is an amazing author (and my bestie <33) and she also writes topwan fics! My personal fav is her series the bones of a miracle which is a modern au and has werewolf Obi-Wan, one of my guilty pleasures.

@ragnarlothcat is one of the most beloved authors here and also has a great collections of really good fics! My favourites from her are the modern AU series a la carte and the fic The bottom of the ninth which is a sports Au about baseball which is really enjoyable even without knowing anything about the sport (and I can attest to that since I know next to nothing about baseball).

wesnensky writes some really really good smut and I totally recommend to give her ficlets a go!

@teaandjumpers a great author with some really amazing fics, my favs are Learn to Fly High and That's my Type.

@tomicaleto is one of og in fandom and she's both artist and author! I urge you to check her out. My fav fic of hers is The strongest starts...

@rexismycopilot has some great series, even if more BDSM based, but urge you to check them out!

@intermundia is another pillar of the fandom and has some of the most popular fics in the fandom. They have some amazing fics and suggest you check them all out! Their Prompted has an amazing collections of obikin aus, all amazing reads, and their Lex Talionis is one of the greatest fics in fandom.

@artemisthehuntress is another fantastic author that i recommend! My fav fic from her is A Good Epithet.

@obi-wkenobi is a fantastic author and i can only rec all of her fics! My personal fav are Something broken that can be fixed and Awed.

@binaryeclipse, another great author, has some delicious fics. Her series It's How You Learn and the fic Slow Learner are what i can only describe as indulgently decadent.

@sopherfly has one of my favourite fics ever, which I encourage you to read even if incomplete. It's just that good. The Shadow of a Dream is an amazing read and one I return to regularly.

@secretsolarsystem wrote an amazing Batman inspired fic which sits firmly in my favourites, Incorruptible, Everlasting. They also have other really good fics and i suggest you check them out!

@anakinspraisekink is another loved author which has a great collection of fics and I encourage you to check it out! My favourite is the series A Touch of Praise which, even if incomplete, is an amazing read. She also has other amazing fics and i suggest you check them out!

@himboskywalker is another beloved must read in fandom and I cannot rec their fics enough! They have such great fics and some of my all timess favourites like Redolent of You, The way he smiles at you, Conceal what I am, Invictus.... i simply suggest you go through their entire profile!

@tennessoui is another great author which writes both dynamic so you can take your pick from her! My fav are be careful not to choke on your admirations and me and my man, we get on like a house on fire.

@sendpseuds has a great collection of fics!! my fav is Terrorizing the HOA and Other Weekend Activities.

@underacalicosky is another great author who does both dynamics. My fav of hers is Anywhere else is hollow.

@grapenehifics write vers obikin and she has really good fics!! My fav is A moment of Peace.

@renlyslittlerose writes both dynamics and most of her fics are obikin vers but I urge you to check her fics! She has amazing stories. My personal favourite is Moonlight Serenade.

@palfriendpatine66 writes vers obikin and has some great Aus.

@starakins is a new author but she has some amazing fics! My fav is a throne for two.

@shatouto wrote some rally good obikin fics and art when he was active in fandom, and one of my personal fav is A Study in Tears.

@paracosm-draw is another amazing artist i totally urge you to check out. they also do both dynamics.

@kana7o has a great collection of obikin art and a twt accout where you can enjoy her nsfw art. and she always indulges me in my dirty ideas <333

@jarenka her art is amazing and I love especially her anakin!

@bi-wan is the OG topwan artist and i love love love everyting she has ever drawn. I urge you to also go on her ao3 for uncensored pics <33

@skynobi has some hauntingly beautiful obikin art and i tear up sometimes just looking at it. beyond recommended.

kirab0shy @kirab0sh1 is an amazing artist on twt who only draws topwan and her art is so so cute!!

@human-rocket has an amazing obikin comic going on an di can't recommend it enough! a must read.

@unspuncreature one of my fav artists check him out!

@bellybeansss, @gskywalker17, @deliquesaint, @chlobwers, @bird-prince-art, @oh-biwan, @nickytess, @yatsukisakura, @obikinetic, @weillschmidtdoodles, @delziae, @02png, @ma-works, @projectdrow, @dioscouroi, @zeizeizeizei, @aberrantcreature, @doubleggggs, @thehungreecat, @yasyart, @freemymercury @lovey-dovey-and-sad are all amazing artists, regardless of dynamic, and i cannot recommend them enough <33

@calyssmarviss, @mscoet, @daryshkart, @bakaramia, @roppppppop and golcompriton (twt) have some amazing obikin art for you to check out even if they are not active in the fandom anymore!

Now even if this a long list there's also so many others that i've definetly forgotten to mention (or tag because I physically can't tag anyone else here lol)! if i forgot about you you can drop a rec in my ask here or on the topwan blog and i'll post it! we are many and we hope to grow even more <33

[kznes]

GENSHIN X READER

(pt. 2, What if his lover isnt purely innocent? What if its all calculated?)

Childe (Tartaglia)

He loved how cute you were. The way you clung to his arm with your big, glossy eyes. The way you pouted and said things like, “Don’t leave me~ I’ll be so lonely…” It made his heart swell — you were so soft, so delicate, so his.

But things started… changing. You weren’t just needy — you were vindictive. Anyone who annoyed you disappeared from the room shaken, trembling. One day, his younger brother Teucer nearly tripped over you, and you smiled sweetly. The next day, the boy had a bruised knee and didn’t know how.

“Tonia was being mean to me,” you whispered, snuggled into Childe’s chest. “She laughed when I fell.” You didn’t have to say more. He dealt with it.

But that night, as he watched you humming while drawing something in a little red notebook — a list of names, crossed out, complete with little skulls — he felt something crawl under his skin.

“You’re not as fragile as you act, are you?” he asked, voice low. You looked up at him, wide-eyed. “But you like me better this way, right?” He did. He hated it.

So he kissed your forehead. And told himself: “If she’s twisted… at least she’s twisted for me.”

Xiao

At first, your presence gave him peace. You were small, soft-voiced, always reaching for his hand like you’d float away without it. You called him your “hero.” He didn’t understand affection, but you made him feel… anchored.

But things changed.

One day, he heard you humming behind a pillar. A strange sound, like you were talking to someone — but you were alone.

“He was mean to me, so I broke his toy,” you giggled. He saw the broken hilichurl mask in your hand — not dropped in battle, but smashed, repeatedly. With intent.

He stepped closer, eyes sharp. “What did you do?” You turned, smiled so sweetly, and tugged his sleeve.

“Nothing bad. Don’t worry. You protect me, remember?” He froze. Something in your voice — that lilt of innocence — it was wrong.

He didn’t leave. But he never let his back face you again.

Cyno

You were dramatic, clingy, full of ridiculous excuses. He scolded you like a tired teacher with a mischievous student. But he always gave in. He thought your chaos was harmless.

Until someone was arrested. For threatening you, you said. But there were… gaps in the story. Inconsistencies. He dug deeper. Your witness statements, delivered in your cute, pouty tone, didn't line up.

“Why did you say they pushed you?” he asked. You blinked up at him. “They did, emotionally.” “That's not a crime.” “It felt like it.”

Cyno stared. For once, he had no joke.

“If you lie again, I’ll find out.” You smiled. “You won’t leave though… will you?”

He didn’t answer. And that silence scared him more than any of your words.

Kaeya

You were a breath of twisted air. Every pout, every dramatic sigh — he thought it was a game. Something he could match, even beat. But he didn’t realize the game was rigged.

He caught you once in the library, whispering to someone in a broken voice, tears in your eyes. He felt concern — until he saw the way your eyes sharpened the moment they looked away. You were acting.

“You’re a little monster in disguise,” he murmured later, twirling a lock of your hair around his finger. You leaned in, lips brushing his ear.

“You’re not afraid of monsters. You sleep with one every night.”

He laughed. Of course he did. But his arm tightened around your waist — not to hold you close, but to remind himself you were real. And maybe, if he kept you close enough, the monster wouldn’t turn on him.

Albedo

You always had tantrums. Pouts. Teary-eyed “nobody loves me” routines. He treated it clinically — like a pattern. Until one day, someone went missing after an argument with you. And you just tilted your head. “They shouldn’t have yelled at me. That’s all.”

He examined your room while you napped. Drawings. Pages of notes about people. How to make them crack. How to make them break.

When he confronted you, you didn’t cry. You just smiled, lazy and sweet.

“Is this part of your experiment, too?”

He paused.

“Maybe,” he said quietly. “But this time, I’m the subject.”

Ayato

He noticed something first in your staff. They were always nervous. You smiled too much. Asked for too little. Acted too innocent. But he was busy. He wanted to believe you were just needy. Sweet. A little dramatic.

Until he caught you bribing someone. And then blackmailing another. All while sucking on a candy and saying things like, “Oops! Did I do that?”

“You’re not fragile,” he said one night. “You’re calculated.” You crawled onto his lap, whispering,

“But I only do it so I can keep you.”

He held your chin and stared into your eyes.

“I don’t know whether I should punish you… or make you my second-in-command.” He kissed you. He didn’t decide.

Diluc

You clung to his arm like a sleepy kitten, your voice always soft, your tone gentle. You asked for attention in the smallest ways: a tug on his sleeve, a pout, a single tear. And he gave it to you. Every time.

But slowly… he noticed things.

One of his bartenders suddenly quit, saying they were “afraid.” You had only smiled sweetly when asked. Customers who flirted with him too long didn’t return. He found a scarf of his, stolen from his room, hidden in your drawer — carefully folded next to a candle and a dried flower.

He confronted you gently. He always was gentle with you.

“You’re scaring people. Is that really what you want?” Your lips trembled. Your voice cracked. “I don’t want them. I want you.” “You’re mine, Diluc. They shouldn’t look at you like that.”

His throat tightened. He wanted to say it was wrong. He wanted to say it was dangerous.

Instead, he reached for your hand and whispered,

“Don’t let that side of you grow. Please. Don’t make me choose.”

Kaveh

You acted helpless, like a delicate flower blown by the wind. Every little inconvenience turned into a catastrophe. Every wrong look made you burst into fake tears. And Kaveh — emotional, soft-hearted, too empathetic — always believed you.

But it started to unravel. He saw the broken dish you claimed “just slipped.” He saw the way you smiled when someone was humiliated after upsetting you. He overheard your voice, saccharine sweet, whispering threats like lullabies.

He confronted you in the dark.

“Are you… hurting people? To make me feel sorry for you?”

You blinked at him with glassy eyes, stepping closer.

“But Kaveh… I love how you protect me. You only hold me tight when I cry.”

He almost collapsed under the weight of guilt. You weren’t just playing him. You were weaponizing his kindness.

And worst of all? He still loved you. And he hated himself for it.

Zhongli

You were refined, sweet, soft-spoken. He thought your childlike behavior was a remnant of your youth — a reminder that even mortals needed to be cherished.

But then, rumors began to circle. Servants too afraid to speak. Diplomats who avoided your gaze. And you… always smiling. Always so innocent.

He watched as you scolded someone in private — your voice not raised, but twisted. Cold. He watched the fear in their eyes.

When he approached, you turned with the same sugary tone.

“Zhongli~ I was just having a little talk. They were being mean.”

His hands folded calmly behind his back. But his tone was sharper.

“Your actions do not reflect the virtues of patience… or mercy.”

You pouted. “But I’m just a girl. I didn’t mean it that way.” He stared into your eyes, unreadable.

“The mask you wear… is not made of porcelain. It is made of control.”

He still held you close. But he never let his guard down again.

Kazuha

You were clingy, soft, like a petal drifting on wind. You cried when he left. You whined when he trained. You asked him to promise you everything. He thought it was sweet. He thought he was protecting a fragile soul.

But then he started noticing how people around you suffered. A merchant accused of stealing. A friend suddenly shunned. Your voice was always babyish, always sad.

“They were mean to me, Kazuha… they said I was too much…”

But then he found a letter. A threat. From you. Written in elegant calligraphy, folded neatly beneath your pillow.

He didn’t speak. That night, you sat beside him by the river, looking up with wide eyes.

“Are you mad?” “I’m just a little selfish sometimes, aren’t I?”

He gently tucked a flower behind your ear.

“Even the gentlest breeze can carry poison.”

He never stopped loving you. But part of his soul mourned something he couldn’t quite name.

Thoma

You pouted for sweets, cried when ignored, and constantly begged for affection. He gave it to you willingly. He liked taking care of people. Especially you. You were sweet. Or so he thought.

But soon, every small inconvenience became a dramatic performance. And the way others avoided you — or seemed haunted by your smile — became impossible to ignore. One day, he found a letter you had written to his landlord, falsely accusing a neighbor of assaulting you. The man had been evicted. Ruined.

Thoma felt his heart stop.

“Why would you do that?” he asked. You looked up at him from the couch, blanket around your shoulders. “I needed you to care again. You weren’t hugging me like you used to.”

He took a shaky breath.

“That’s not how you get love…” “Well it worked, didn’t it?”

And he hated himself — because it did.

Itto

At first, he thought you were just fun-sized chaos. You pouted, stomped your feet, demanded snacks — he loved it. You made him laugh every day. He proudly called you his “tiny terror.”

But one day, he saw how you handled a kid who beat you in a game. You pulled them aside. Smiled. The next day, the kid cried every time they saw you.

Another time, he heard you say,

“I’m just a girl! No one should blame me for what happened.” When a whole food stall had been destroyed — by you. Intentionally.

“Wait a minute…” he muttered. “You wanted them to suffer?” You batted your lashes, climbing into his lap.

“But Ittooo~ They hurt me first.” “I only did what I had to do!”

He hesitated. His big hands gripped your waist.

“You're scary sometimes… but dang it, I love you anyway.” “Just promise you won’t hurt anyone who doesn’t deserve it, alright?”

You promised. And he believed you. Even when he probably shouldn’t have.

[francixoxoxo]

Handyman, on speed dial

mikey berzatto x reader

One big perk of dating Mikey; he’s willing to fix whatever breaks in your apartment, with or without you asking him to.

Mikey would do just about anything you asked, get you anything you needed the second you needed it. So it’s no surprise that, even before he moves in, he becomes your personal handyman for all your crappy-and-busted-apartment needs.

The first time, the two of you were lying on your couch, Mikey dozing off while you laid your head on his chest and watched the Netflix drama he picked (even though he clearly didn’t like his choice very much.) You muttered, “It’s so stupid cold in this place.”

Your boyfriend grumbled as he roused, the sound vibrates in his firm chest and against your cheek. “I’ll go turn up the thermostat.” His calloused hands moved to your upper arms, beginning to gently move you off of him.

“S’busted,” you shake your head, lifting it off him and meeting his eye. Mikey’s brows draw, he nods a little.

“How long’s it been broken?” He huffs. You shrug. Maybe a month. But it was March, you knew the city was just about to warm up anyway. Springtime in Chicago, you joked. He didn’t sound convinced.

He came back the next day with a toolbox, a shirt he didn’t mind getting dirtier than it already was, and got to work. You cooed a million thank-you’s, but he shrugged them all off. He did ask for an espresso, though, which you happily made as payment for the repair.

Well, the repair and the view both— Mikey looked pretty damn good kneeling on the floor in front of your radiator, his brow perpetually furrowed and his lips parted in focus. Not to mention the way his biceps popped from cranking the wrench he was using to unscrew bolts and loosen whatever the issue was. After a few hours (with a lunch break,) he stands up, his hands on his hips, dark eyes moving twixt the radiator, the vents, and the thermostat critically, like he’s intimidating them into functioning. “All right. Try now.”

When you turn the heat on, the radiator finally churns and buzzes to life. Mikey gives you an only-a-little-smug, downturned smile, lifting his shoulders as if to say, no biggie. You give his a shower of kisses, Y’know, just in the minor, tiny case that it is a big deal; and the absolute tiny, less-than-zero chance your boyfriend is very proud of being able to do something for you.

And it’s definitely an upside, having a man who’ll look at any home project you present and shrug, narrowing his eyes and looking the thing up and down, grumbling that, “I can get it done, yeah. Don’t worry.”

When you call him, stress lilting your words, it’s like a radar goes off somewhere in his brain. “Michael,” that’s where he knows something’s gotta be wrong, “my sink’s leaking, I put down towels, turned off the tap but it’s still— it’s still fucking leaking, I don’t know what to do. Can you—“

“Yeah. ‘Course. Getting in the car now, sweetheart, calm down.” Mikey in fact was not getting in the car just then, he was standing behind the counter at The Beef, clapping Richie on the shoulder and announcing that he had to head out. He waved off his guffawing. His restaurant, anyway. Wasn’t like they’d die if he wasn’t in the building. You probably would, on the other hand, so he doesn’t feel so bad about cutting a few people off on the way to your apartment.

The next few hours are spent holding a flashlight for him while he grimaces at the pipes under your sink, his toolbox ajar and out of the way of the soaked towels he’s kneeling on. Occasionally he asks for a different type of wrench, and you feel very helpful fetching each one for him, or turning on and off the water when he asks; even though your man is the one stooped over, practically tearing apart the piping and starting over. He gets sprayed now and then with water, and it doesn’t get any less funny to you. He scoffs after maybe the second time his shirt gets wet, wiping off his neck with the backs of his fingers, “You crack yourself up, huh?”

When Mikey stands, stretching his back a little, he grunts, “All right. You, sweetheart, have a working sink again.” You sigh in relief, lifting onto your tiptoes and pressing a kiss onto his scratchy cheek.

“You’re a saint,” you grin at him in a way that makes him forget the fact his pants are wet from the knees down and his shirt is spattered with water. He hums indifferently, shrugging his shoulders and giving you a shy, humble smile.

Mikey once noticed that the door into your bedroom was creaking. You didn’t even complain about it, or mention it at all, but maybe he just needed to do something with his hands. You got home from work late to find the door leaning against the wall beside the frame, your boyfriend unscrewing each hinge with an electric drill and replacing them with shiny new ones. “Mikey?” A soft laugh parts your lips, you kick off your kitten heels. He throws his head over his shoulder while you walk closer and brush a hand along his shoulder, up his nape and through his dark hair.

“Fixing the door,” he explains, as if you can’t see him sitting crisscrossed on the floor, surrounded by screws and hinges, old and new. He grins at you like proudly, this forty year old man with a stubbled jaw oddly reminding you of a little boy showing you a mud pie he’s made. You quirk a brow and he shrugs. “It’s.. noisy.”

“Uh-huh.” You look over your shoulder at the door propped against the wall, crossing your arms. “Do you want help? Or are you too macho?”

Mikey huffs a laugh, a smile creasing his eyes endearingly. “I’m the perfect amount of macho, baby. And no. Go get comfy.” He tilts his chin to your office clothes, a pencil skirt and neat button up. You hum, step around the mess of screws, nuts and hinges, and into the bedroom.

“Well I don’t have a door anymore. Where’s my privacy?” You huff, grinning at Mikey eyeing you through his brows as the drill whirs to life and he screws in a hinge.

“You want me to close my eyes handling heavy machinery?” You shake your head at him. Heavy machinery being an electric hand drill.

If he was annoying (not really!), atleast he was stupid handsome. His arms are defined by the strain, the muscles of his broad chest perfectly hugged by his gray shirt. With the way you’re staring, you’re not much better than a man. You go about unbuttoning your top, shrugging it off your arms and letting it fall crumpled on the floor.

“Y’know…” You pull one of his big shirts he left in your apartment, absolutely never to be returned to the original owner, over your head. “I was wondering if you could install this new ceiling fan I got.”

Mikey sits back a bit, straightening his back and cocking a brow in your direction. “You’re really puttin’ me to work.” But you give him a sugar-sweet smile, turning your cheek just so, and his lips turn downward in a why not? expression.

“Don’t you worry ‘bout it, sweetheart. I got it.” Definitely one of the perks of dating Mikey; you had a particularly handsome, personal handyman on speed dial.

[loveriotss]

I need my baby girl monoma like any fic/text beside smut 🤑 your stuff are GOLDEN and I've been addicted

BACK TO ME ⸻ NEITO MONOMA ; support course + gn reader

SYNOPSIS — a certain blonde is back into your life, bringing with him his cocky attitude and demands. INCLUDES — monoma and reader are in their third year, smau, fluff, crack.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ main masterlist — mha masterlist ꪆৎ ˚⋅

𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀 𝐅𝐄𝐖 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑,

neito monoma burst through the studio door. you weren’t surprised since this only confirmed your suspicions of him lurking nearby. he waltz over to where you were seated, surrounded by blueprints, rough sketches and a few miniature models.

your face had a bit of soot dusted on it, your hair messily tossed up, the strays and baby hairs held up by a bandana. you made an effort to keep your hands clean though, since the sticky and oily feeling of mechanical work wasn’t the best. you weren’t exactly presentable, but you thought it was okay since the client was monoma.

he stood beside you, his back towards the table, making sure to not touch anything (a lesson learnt from last time when he ended up knocking your precious project) as he looked at you with his signature cocky grin.

“i must be the most on – time client you’ve ever had, right?” he asked to which you gave him a look, one brow raised as you tapped your pen against the blueprint spread out in front of you.

“lurking doesn’t count as punctuality, monoma.”

“i call it dedication. you should be grateful for the eagerness i have for your work instead of calling me a lurker.” he pointed out, voice smooth and annoyingly self – assured. he leaned forward a little, eyes scanning the mess of paper. “you’ve been busy.”

you didn’t reply at first, instead nudging one of the finished sketches towards him. “i narrowed it down to three. each one’s built for mobility and accessibility, they can also be attached to either your belt or glove.” you tapped the final drawing — sleeker, more compact. “this one’s the most efficient. minimal parts, easy to conceal so that villians can’t catch up with your timings, and convenient for you to keep track of the quirks.”

monoma blinked, impressed as he nodded to your words with raised brows. “you really thought this through.”

before you could stop yourself, you replied, “i always think things through. unlike someone who crashed into million – yen tech like a windstorm.”

he winced. “ouch, okay. i see that your emotional distress is still present.”

“mhm,” you hummed. “your monetary compensation was nice though.”

“you blocking me for two weeks wasn’t nice though.”

“two months,” you corrected.

he groaned dramatically and leaned against the table, eyes scanning the design again. “alright. let’s go with this one. the compact design feels.. heroic.” you scoffed under your breath. “you just want to look cool.”

“i always look cool, l/n.” he stated proudly, then gave you a sideways glance. “since we’re done.. wanna grab a snack or something? i’ve got a new ramen brand, how about you try it out with me? you just have to taste, not cook.”

you raised a brow, “you cook?”

“instant ramen, yes. but i do it well.”

“fine, impress me.”

you watched monoma intently from across the tiny kitchenette tucked into the back corner of the support studio. he was crouched slightly, carefully pouring hot water into bowls while humming to himself like he was a five – star chef preparing a gourmet meal. 

you leaned your chin on your palm and subtly lifted your phone. click! you got a quick, candid shot — monoma hunched over the bowls as he decorated them with toppings, brows slightly furrowed in concentration, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and hair a little messier than usual. it was annoying how photogenic he was.

he looked up just as you locked your screen, holding out one of the bowls with an overdramatic flourish. “dinner is served! try not to cry from how incredible it is.” he added in with a wink.

you accepted the bowl with a dry stare. “if i cry, it’ll be because this is my third instant meal this week.” he chuckled and sat beside you, bumping your shoulder slightly. “hey, this one has real seaweed. it counts as nutrition. nothing compared to your normal and bland instant noodles.”

you looked at him, amused. “thanks for the meal, chef.” 

“you’re welcome. and for the record,” he added, slurping a bit of his noodles before grinning at you through the steam, “i missed getting nagged at by you. the stares you give me really reminded me of old times.”

you paused before glancing away, bringing your ramen to your mouth to hide the smile creeping onto your face. “.. you’re weird.”

“and yet you didn’t block me this time.”

“shut up and eat your noodles, neito.”

NOTE — math test on monday kinda nervy

©loveriotss — all rights reserved to me. don’t try to copy/steal my work. do not use any of my ideas/translate my work without my permission.

[vviolets444rroses]

— firefighter!rafe and one very proud kindergartner !!

based off of this request <3

“i’m sorry babygirl— stuck at the station today,” rafe sighs, cassie perched on the counter while rafe ties her laces. you watch from the doorway as you sip your water.

a small nod. a mumbled, “okay.”

“you remember uncle buck? you met him at the fire station cookout a while ago. i told him you’d be there, and he’s excited to see you.” he grins down at her, hoping to lift the mood. she gives a small, reluctant smile back.

he kisses you both before heading out the door, boots heavy on the steps. she watches from the steps of the porch, backpack on, chin resting in her hands as he drives away.

you knew the truth, though. rafe was gonna be there with buck. still, it broke your heart seeing cassie so bummed. you sat beside her, fixing her pigtails and bangs.

“he really wanted to come, sweetheart.” “i know… it’s okay. daddy’s out saving people.”

later in the day at the pre-k…

you showed up with snacks and juice boxes in hand. you wave at cassie from across the cafeteria and then go to mingle with the other parents.

a doctor and nurse showed the kids how to wash their hands. a dentist demonstrated brushing on a giant model. a police officer and his k-9 dog gave a quick demo of their search and rescue work.

you glanced at cassie every so often— she seemed to be enjoying herself. but you would also catch her staring at the door, hoping it was her dad walking through next.

after the police officer had walked off with his k-9, the cafeteria doors opened.

buck walked in first, waving at the kids with one hand and holding tank’s leash in the other. cassie immediately sat up straighter when she saw the big chocolate lab trotting beside him, in his own little uniform too.

all the kids cheered as the pair walked into view. cassie clapped but her eyes were already drifting behind him.

rafe stepped in a moment later, full uniform, helmet under one arm, light smile but even bigger when he spots his daughter among the group.

cassie was already on her feet, running straight into his arms as he crouched down. he hardly had any time to put down his helmet before he wrapped her into a big hug. “daddy!”

“you said you weren’t coming!” she giggles, holding her dad’s face in her tiny hands.

he shakes his head, “momma and i thought you’d like the surprise. did we get ya?” she nods with a cheek-to-cheek grin and hugged rafe once more before returning to her spot.

you watch from the back of the cafeteria as rafe and buck introduced themselves and tank the dog to the kids. there was no way anyone could wipe the smile off your face right now.

rafe sets his helmet down, gives tank a quick scratch on the head, and steps to the front of the crowd.

“who here knows what to do if your clothes catch on fire?” he looks around, but fast as ever, cassie shoots her hand up in the air.

“stop, drop, and roll!” cassie shout out loud. “that’s right,” he grins. “my girl’s got it.”

buck rolls out a mat and all the kids take turns practicing the fire safety technique. they talk about what tank does for the fire station and show them their gear.

when he wraps up, the class claps loudly and that was the end of the community helpers day. the kids all scramble out, but cassie is already in her dad’s arms, rambling about every bit. as if it didn’t just happen.

“hold on! i made daddy something. momma, where’s my backpack?” she asks with excitement. you hand her the backpack and rafe puts her down to let her search for whatever she made him.

she pulls out a drawing- stick figure rafe in his firefighter uniform, a big red fire truck beside him, and a lopsided tank in gear too. she even drew herself too, her tiny hand holding rafe’s. and a giant heart in the corner of it all.

he crouches down to her height, cheesing big. “this is perfect, babygirl,” he kisses her cheek. “i’m putting this in my locker first thing when i get back to the station.”

cassie turns to you, “do you like it, momma?” you smile, leaning in to look. “i think you made daddy look extra cool.”

“because he is,” she says simply.

rafe picks her up, letting her hang on his hip. his helmet under one arm and the drawing in his free hand. he glances over at you.

“we did good, baby.” he mutters.

you press a quick kiss to cassie’s cheek then one to his jaw, “we always do.”

—

—

a/n: this was so cutesy to make- thank youu for the request!! can you guys tell i am insane and have a type in firefighters... i've literally only written for them. i have other types but like i wouldn't know how to write them LOLOL :3 but please like/reblog if you want more, thank you my loves!

[crackedpumpkin]

| 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝟏𝟔 |

a/n: lol not me being productive

taglist: @candyquokka @mikadough @em-100-blog @cursedreader @alicesmile1 @alexa24 @raegreenie4 @burdeningbitch @viannasthings @cadencannot @ml3czqo @nanasemo @certified-cole-simp @beescomet @theblindhag @mitbin24 @sweetlittlebumblebree @brooklyniswriting @cantbecreative @something-else3 @iinlovewithfictionalppl @itz-moonlight @jebesovovise @ryeheep @letthelightin2112 @classically-bored @clearlawyereaglewobbler @anajellyc @the-midnight-duck @fru1ty-bage3ls @elysiuansstuff @risagichi @mousedit@yoggi-bingus @silveritydreams @mikadough @greenunoreversecard @herondale3109 @something-else3 @herondale3109 @changeling5am @obs3ssingd3vil

[ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ] | [ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks,” Cole grumbles. He jumps off the last rung and lands perfectly, hands shoved in his pockets while you cautiously make your way off the ship. The comment draws your attention, watching a girl surrounded by guards approach.

Walking up to them, it takes all the self control in your body to not gawk at the gorgeous blonde in front of you. “So,” she continues, glancing over at the rest of you with a smile, “what gives us the honour of having the ninja visit us?”

Without a single word, everyone turns to stare at Lloyd expectantly. He merely sighs, stepping forward. “Great to see you again Vania, but we need to talk in private.” 

So Vania was her name. “Of course.” She replies, sensing the gravity of the situation. With a single gesture, some of the guards that surround her flock to your side. It makes you flinch slightly, the small action not going unnoticed by Cole who moves closer to you. 

Lifting your gaze, you freeze as her eyes rest on the both of you, thoughtfulness behind them before she looks at the rest. “But before we do so, perhaps you should freshen up.” A teasing grin replaces the solemness in the air. “Because like I said, you look like shit.”

— — — — — 

“I don’t stink, do I?” Lifting up your arms, you give them a good sniff. Nya shakes her head in amusement, devouring another strawberry from the bowl of fruits in the room the guards had shown you to.

Initially, the sight of the king-sized bed for each of you had taken your breath away, staring longingly at the fluffy pillows before you’d glanced down at your grimy t-shirt with a sigh. “Like I said,” Nya had stated with a note of defeat, “we forget to restock the ship sometimes. It just so happened that it was my brother’s turn to buy the bathroom necessities.”

“It was nice of them to let us freshen up first though,” you say, collapsing on the sofa after a nice, long shower. Your fingers busy themselves with the fabric of your new dress. It’d been provided by the princess as well, an airy white dress that rests comfortably on your figure. It even came with pockets, which you gleefully showed off after you’d gotten changed. 

“Yeah, Vania’s great.” Nya says casually, biting off a grape straight from the stem. “Haven’t seen her in a while though, but she’s changed a lot since last time.” 

“Oh?” This catches your attention, shifting to sit upright with interest. “What happened?”

“It was a whole thing with her dad,” Nya explains vaguely, waving the bunch of grapes in the air. “Basically the king was this Sorcerer guy who’d been secretly doing really bad stuff behind everyone’s back and we exposed him. After that, she took over as Queen.”

You pause, processing this new discovery. “Wait, she’s the Queen of this place??”

Nya frowns, now sitting upright. “Well, duh. I would’ve thought the crown on her head to be a pretty big indicator.” 

Shit. You’d gotten so caught up in how pretty she was, that you’d completely missed it. “Oh my god… You guys have connections, huh.”

“Honestly, you should just ask Cole about it. He was front and center with the whole situation.”

“He was?” Wow. You really do learn something new everyday. “He’s never mentioned it to me before.” 

Nya shrugs, although her eyes do narrow the tiniest amount at the way you say it just as someone knocks on the door. It opens to reveal the guard who guided you to your rooms earlier, the stern look on his face only serving to make the pit in your stomach grow. 

You follow him wordlessly to a large dining hall. The ceiling is higher than the sky itself, every inch kept pristine by the countless number of maids you’d seen on the way over. A long table made of polished dark wood is filled with overflowing dishes of food, silver cutlery at each seat. 

Your feet automatically guide you over to sit next to Cole, only to falter when it’s already occupied by the Queen. It’s an awkward position, with him right next to the space at the head of the table where the Queen is supposed to sit, except that she’s currently laughing away with him on the other side. 

Zane is opposite him, about to give up his seat to you when your eyes meet. You shake your head quietly, moving to sit beside Jay who greets you enthusiastically by shoving a roasted chicken leg in your face. 

You accept it gratefully with a laugh, hoping it doesn’t sound amiss. Strangely enough, a part of you feels awfully miffed. 

Whatever. He can sit with whoever he wants. It’s none of my business anyway.

One thing you have to admit though, is that the food here is pretty great. Soon enough, your own plate looks almost just like Jay’s - filled with so many different bits and pieces that it looks almost comical. 

However, a plate of pastries catches your eye, but it’s on the other end of the table where Cole and Vania sit. Pastry, or dignity? It’s a tough choice to make. The moment you look back up after deliberating, you find that it’s already emptied, with Kai munching away on whatever remained on his plate.

The remaining crust gives away the culprit (Lloyd), looking away in defeat before biting into a lettuce leaf. After a while though, dinner concludes with the servants taking away the now empty plates, leaving everyone full and content. 

Vania is back in her rightful chair, but you pretend not to notice the way Cole’s eyes flit to you, as if silently calling you over to sit in the empty spot beside him. To his displeasure and your amusement, Lloyd slides into it barely a second later. 

“Vania, we came here because we need information.” He begins, resting his arms on the table as he leans forward. “It’s about the Fountain of Youth.” 

The atmosphere seems to still, Vania’s expression tightening the smallest amount at the mention. She takes a breath. “My father used to speak of it. What of it?” 

“We have reason to believe that someone is trying to find it, and they’ve already gotten their hands on one piece of the map.”

His revelation seems to have shocked her, her eyes wide while her fingers curl into fists at the table. Lloyd surveys her for a single moment, making the call to continue. “It’s not just that,” he pauses, “but they’ve begun targeting our friend too, though we’re still not entirely sure why. She’s not one of us - ninja wise, I mean,” he adds with an apologetic glance. “And we don’t want her to get hurt… or worse.” 

It sends a chill through your body, instinctively picking away yet again at the skin of your cuticles. Another moment of silence passes before Vania seems to reach her own conclusion. She stands up, approaching a doorway. Turning, she stares at the rest of you expectantly. “So, do you want to find out about this Fountain or what?”

— — — — — 

Step by step, she leads the group through twists and turns of the castle. The hallways become narrower and dimmer, and the air becomes staler. Almost like an unspoken agreement, everyone followed silently. 

Finally she stops, producing a locket she wore around her neck. The door in front of you is closed shut, barely any room for air to leak through. The most unsettling thing though, is how it didn’t have a handle, or keyhole. 

Instead of a keyhole, there’s an indent in the metal. It matches the shape of her locket perfectly, and she holds it against the door for all of three seconds before a soft click echoes through the hallway.

Shuddering, you can’t help but imagine being locked inside with no way out, slowly suffocating to death with the lack of fresh air. It’s a morbid thought, and you almost wish you could hold someone’s hand to ground yourself. 

It swings open with a slight push. “What you’re about to see is the buried history of my people.” Vania’s expression is serious now. “I stumbled across it some time after my coronation. My father kept this unknown for a reason, one he never wanted to see the light of day. What I’m about to show you is dangerous. I need you to understand that.”

The silence is broken by Jay’s remark. “Danger is my middle name.” 

“You said it was Skywalker once.” The words slip from your mouth before you stop yourself, pressing your lips together and shrivelling on the inside when everyone turns to look at you. “Like Luke…” You mumble pathetically. 

Kai’s expression softens into a grin. “She’s right. Besides, when have we ever shied away from danger?” He holds up a hand in front of Zane who already has his lips parted. “Don’t even.”

The tension slowly melts, his words diffusing some of the suffocating feeling you didn’t even realise had filled the air. Vania smiles in amusement. “Alright then.”

Upon entering the room, the first thing you see is dust. Lots and lots of it. Ancient scrolls that look ready to crumble with a single exhale fill the room in boxes, scattered pieces of paper lining the shelves that have dust bunnies all over them.

“No wonder your dad didn’t want anyone in this room - it’s a mess!” Cole exclaims, covering his mouth with a single hand. It isn’t enough to stop him from coughing at the sudden dust cloud sent his way when Pixel lifts up a single cloth. 

You’re about to comment, until something on the wall ahead catches your eye. A large tapestry is draped across it, covering almost all of it except for one part that looks familiar. An inkling of suspicion takes root, reaching out and gingerly grabbing the fabric. 

It gives way with a single tug, sending up a huge cloud of dust that stings your eyes. However, what you see next leaves everyone bewildered. “How…what…? What is this doing here?” Cole stammers, moving to stand next to you. 

You could acknowledge the way the hairs on your arm prickle at the close proximity, or the way your heart suddenly thrums. But something far more important lies in front. The wall is covered in an old painting, the vibrant colors faded but still legible enough to reveal a shocking truth. 

The painting is almost an exact copy of the one in the old temple ruins you’d visited just the other day, with the Fountain of Youth at its center. Except this time, they weren’t fighting around it.

Bodies of serpentine, humans, and all others lay on the ground, bloodshed depicted in its raw form as figures whose garbs are eerily similar to the ones you all wear stand above them with weapons in hand. Their expressions have long faded with the passage of time, but one can feel the triumphant victory that the painting emanates.

“My ancestors were vicious.” Vania’s voice had become small, almost ashamed. She picks up a scroll from the corner, unravelling it to show the rest. “The Fountain was first discovered by the Serpentine, but my ancestors soon caught wind of it. It started out with good intentions, wanting to ensure that it wasn’t used with impure motives. But some of the generals convinced everyone that our people should be the ones to seize command, to make sure that it was regulated to our standards because they believed we were superior.”

“In doing so, they basically waged war. Everyone fought, but no one else lived to tell the truth about how…” She trails off, cheeks aflame as she swallows hard. “How they massacred everyone. This is the truth of what happened. After that, it was a matter of ensuring the secret remains buried, but when my great-great-grandfather found out about it, he made sure to leave a record behind so that we would know the truth.”

Cole places a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. She relaxes a little under his gentle pats, his expression making her exhale shakily. “When I discovered this, I wanted to make it right. So tell me,” she glances around at the rest of you. “How can I help?”

“We need to know everything about this. All we have so far is that there’s four parts of a map that lead to the Fountain, and one of them is in Shintaro. Our thief might come here next, so we need to find it before they do.”

She nods. “If there’s anything helpful, it has to be in this room somewhere. I’ve been sorting things out for a while, but I’ve barely made a dent.” 

A sigh falls from your lips, gazing tiredly at what seems to be inevitable. “Well, looks like we have work to do.” 

— — — — — 

“Jay, I’m going to kill you. Slowly. Painfully.” The threat is brushed off with a giggle as he presses his lips together, desperately trying to hold back his laughter at how done you look. He’d been shifting boxes away and placing them more haphazardly than before, but what really pissed you off was the fact that he’d dunked an entire pile of scrolls right on top of the ones you’d already sorted through, and now they were all mixed up.

The lack of amusement in your expression finally dawns on him that you’re being serious. He clears his throat, grabbing someone’s arm and pulling them toward you as a shield before fleeing to the other side of the room.

Unfortunately, that someone loses his balance and lands right on top of you, knocking down yet another pile of scrolls. You land flat on your back with a sharp hiss, the breath knocked out of you. 

Upon opening your eyes, you bite back another curse when you see Cole’s dazed expression. Taking a second to breathe, you shove him off you and sit back up with all the dignity you can muster, which is pretty close to none.

“We gotta stop meeting like this.” He seems to have regained his senses, you note, raising a brow. 

“We really should.” 

He winces playfully. “Ouch. And here I thought we were cool.” He takes a scroll and unravels it, only to close it with disgust. “Yeah, that’s not what we’re looking for.” 

“What is it?” Curiosity now piqued, your hands reach for it, only to be swatted away playfully. 

“It’s not suitable for work.” 

You forget how to breathe. “I beg your finest pardon? Are you telling me that this is smut?” 

The mere mention is enough to send him into a tizzy, a flicker of amusement in your eyes as you watch him fumble for words. He glances around, shaking his head urgently. “Don’t say it out loud! I don’t want to explain - or show Vania her ancestors writing about their sexual exploits.”

Suddenly the whole thing isn’t as funny anymore. “Right.” Your focus diverts back to the search. Relapsing into silence, you pick up one scroll after another, setting them aside. Frustration leaks through the way you snap them shut, and the mildly harsh manner that you set them down with. It’d been hours upon hours of just searching, and each of the ninja had dozed off one by one until now it’s just you, Cole, and Jay left. 

The door is still open, Zane volunteering to sleep beside it and act as a weight to prevent it from closing. While amusing, it just proves more tiresome. The torchlight had begun to dim (which you thought was a really dumb decision to make fire the light source in here, considering that everything is flammable), and you could barely make out the words.

Without warning, your eyes decide to wander from the parchment to your soulmate sitting opposite you. Your knees are barely inches apart, having made yourself as comfortable as possible and ignoring how Jay’s now passed out in a corner. 

Cole’s brows furrow every once in a while, concentrating on his task and completely tuning out everything else. There’s a smudge of dirt on his cheek that’d somehow gotten there, part of you itching to reach out and wipe it off his face. 

What’s his history with Vania?

Blinking, you look back down at the scroll you’d been holding, opting to place it to one side and grabbing another to skim through. More useless stuff. Taking another, you open it. 

Your eyes wander over to Vania’s sleeping figure against your own will, her face peaceful as she breathes slowly. She seems almost ethereal, and the way that they got along was the exact opposite of how you two constantly bicker. They’d make a good couple.

A sting pricks your finger, looking down to see scarlet blooming on the surface. “You okay?” His concerned tone is quiet, not wanting to disturb the rest who’re sleeping. 

“I’m alright.” You watch it trail down your finger. “It’s just a paper cut or something.” 

“Uh, no.” He frowns. “You do realise that these scrolls could be housing all sorts of bacteria, right?” 

“I’ve got a pretty good immune system,” you reply with a shrug. “You don’t know the things I’ve eaten past their due date.”

He pauses. “That’s….really gross actually.” 

It makes you grin. “Really? More gross than the way you were shovelling those pancakes into your mouth this morning?” 

“I’ll have you know that it was a matter of our honour.”

“And dignity, I assume.”

“Obviously.”

You share a smile. He shifts, moving to sit next to you and copying the way you lean back against the wall. “I can’t wait for it to be over,” you breathe, vowing internally to never take showers for granted ever again.

“Me too.” He chuckles, shoulder pressing against yours. “Maybe when it is, we can have a gaming rematch. Y’know, for your honour and dignity.” 

You turn to face him, only for the retort to die on your tongue when you find that he’s already been looking at you the whole time. Somehow, you manage to find your voice though it comes out small. “Says you.”

He raises a cocky brow. “Why? You too chicken?” 

A glimpse of golden hair in the corner of your eye makes you clear your throat, looking away. “We should invite Vania.”

You can hear the surprise in his voice. “Vania? I guess so.” You hum non-committedly, absentmindedly fiddling with your fingers.

“I heard that you helped her out with her father.”

“Oh, that? It wasn’t much. People were in danger. Of course I helped. It’s been ages though, but we still keep in contact every now and then. She even invited us over for a vacation.”

You force another nonchalant nod. “That seems good. You should definitely go and catch up with her after all this is over. I don’t think dinner was enough time.”

You can feel his shoulders stiffen. “We caught up plenty.” 

“I can tell.”

His amused huff elicits a glare from you, only to be taken aback at his expression. His eyes are gentle, and the way he’s looking at you is as if he can see past all the ugly walls you’re putting up right now in front of him. His lips are curled into a soft smile, taking your hand in his and brushing his thumb against the raw skin you’d been picking at since earlier. 

“Catching up was great and all…” his voice became quieter. “But I wasn’t really thinking about her in the first place.” 

His eyes flit down to your lips, swallowing hard.

Something about the way he says it activates your defiant streak. As if testing something, you lean forward, lips ghosting against the corner of his. Your eyes search his, desperately looking for an answer you’re too scared to face, an emotion too much to name. 

His hand cups your cheek, your purpose long forgotten as he leans in.

And then you sneeze. 

[themiddlestbatgirl]

I've been thinking about the batfamily and what dragons they would have in kinda like a httyd x batfamily cross over. I will say before we start that for the sake of creativity and keeping this post straightforward I've decided to ignore the idea that dragons are recognizable and could draw connections between the bats and the Wayne's in the public eye. Enjoy!

Bruce I think, ever the drama queen, got himself a Skrill to fit the whole Gotham vibe. Maybe they're common in Gotham, all the storms and winters and such. Anyway. I've decided Bruce gets a Skrill and he's creatively named it "Shocker".

Kate was your average army brat growing up, before "the incident" that is. Because of this I've given her a deadly nadder, I imagine they're the standard army issues dragons, similar to German shepherds. Now imagine Kate on a rooftop affectionately petting "Grunt" her deadly nadder.

Dick, as we know, is quite the acrobat. I tried to keep that in mind when "assigning" him a dragon. He needs something that not only flies but jumps through the clouds. So, please meet "Reuben" the cloudjumper (those four-winged ones from the second movie).

For Jason I had a bit of fun trying to bait in the Jason angsters. I decided to give him a zippleback. One head named "Robin" and the other "Crow" the correlation for robin is obvious, but as for "Crow" it just made sense to me at the moment. I can picture him emerging from a dark alleyway followed by the two heads of his dragon.

I had a few ideas for Tim, all of them felt like they made sense, I toyed with the idea of sentinel dragons. But eventually I settled on a razor whip. They're Smart, tough, visually stunning and sneaky. All things "the perfect robin" needs. Plus Tim's a nerd and would leap at the opportunity to name his dragon "Argentum"

Cass is my absolute fav. So I did my best to not be biased, that's why I gave her a Nightfury. Now hear me out, silent, deadly, precise and powerful... Not to mention a little sassy. I can so easily picture Cass in her OG suit with the black eyes sitting curled up in the shadows astride the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself. Fitting for the girl bred to be the perfect killer, the daughter of the bat. You'll have to bear with me on the name though... "Pavlova" named after the ballerina not the desert.

Steph was also a tricky one to figure out, I thought about changewings, dramilions, and speedstingers. But ultimately always came back to the terrible terror. Small, discreet, a bit of an underdog. I figured Steph needed someone to watch her back (literally) while she does her stuff. This is especially inspired by her little rouge arc in the detective comics Gotham knights storyline. The name came natural too, "Tricky" don't worry about her ability to fly, Cass flies her wherever she needs to go.

Damian was an interesting one, tricky but not too tricky. He's shown in the comics to be pretty good with animals, and he also (imo at least) inherited his father's flair for the dramatic, but in a more "shadow assassin" way. I think Damian has a small swarm of smothering smokebreaths that follow him around and let him make dramatic entrances and fly around Gotham as a literal ball of smoke. I personally couldn't come up with names for all of them but he's absolutely named each one and gets very offended that no one else can tell them apart.

Duke can already fly (I think anyway) so I was able to keep an eye on some more unique dragons. At first I wanted him to have a whole swarm of them but I thought it would be funnier if he just has one and throws it at people. Duke has a fireworm named "Sol" that he carries around. Definitely the least serious of all of these but I unfortunately don't know too much about duke. I'd love to hear other people's ideas.

So yeah, I wanted to do Harper, Jace, luke and Jean and the rest of the more extended batfamily but yeah. I'd totally love to hear what people think and if they'd change anything or have any suggestions for the others. I've been on a bit of a httyd kick and thought this would be fun lol. Sorry for the long post 💪❤️

[howlingday]

Jaune's Shampoo

The Huntsman

"DAMMIT, NORA!" Jaune opened his shower door. As he exited, he noticed his body had drastically changed. Using a mixture of his shampoo and experimental goo found at the fiendish Dr. Merlot's laboratory, Nora had unwittingly created a mutagen just to prank her team leader.

Exiting the shower, Jaune felt very... off. He couldn't quite explain what it was, but for some reason, the entire world felt different. Ignoring this feeling, but keeping it to the back of his mind, he approached the mirror. Everything was the same with him, physically speaking, though he did notice a sort of pain in his body. It was like there was a hole in his chest that couldn't be filled without... something. Pushing this feeling aside, he dried himself off and exited the bathroom.

"Breaking news!" Nora's scroll called out as she lazily watched from her bed. "The first bank of Remnant is being robbed... again! And yes, just like before, it's Roman Torchwick again." Even the newcaster was tired of villains getting away with their crimes. And that was more than enough to make Jaune angry.

"You say somethin', Ja-" Nora looked up to find her leader gone, leaving only a well-written note for her.

WE'LL TALK

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

"The least they could do is make this more fun." Roman Torchwick lamented as he watched his goons load another sack of lien into the truck. His partner, Neo, was busy drawing graffiti onto the huntsmen and huntresses sent to stop them. Unfortunately, they all did the same thing the others did before.

"Your villainy ends tonight, Torchwick."

Yeah, that.

Suddenly, the lights went out and Roman could hear his goons getting pummeled by an unknown assailant. Erring on the side of caution, he leapt behind the teller's desk, keeping his hat close to his head. In the dim glow of the emergency light, he saw Neo crouched beside him.

"Boss?" One of the goons called out. "Boss, where'd you- WAAAGH!"

"Gotcha~!" The crime lord called out with glee as he fired his Melodic Cudgel to the balcony, where the shadowy figure was pulling his goon up by his ankle. He was quick to catch fire, though, and was forced to let go, knocking the goon out as he fell. Thankfully, aura does wonders for fall damage. "Take care of him while I lock up the truck, Neo~."

She nodded and disappeared in a shatter of glass. Torchwick slid from his hiding spot and loaded the last of the loot into the truck before shutting the doors. Climbing over the bags, he made his way to the passenger's seat, his driver ready and waiting.

"What are you waiting for? Step on it!"

"Where to, Boss?" The goon asked.

"Where do you think, genius?!"

"Prison." The guy pretending to be a goon answered.

"Oh, fu-"

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

"Roman Torchwick is behind bars as well as most of his gang thanks to the actions of an unregistered huntsman." The newscaster said, reporting live on the scene as more goons were hauled away. "The Council of Vale have yet to make a response, though Professor Ozpin, the Headmaster of Beacon Academy had this to say..."

"While it is incredibly noble for anyone to make an attempt to better the lives of those around them, it would perhaps be best to leave such matters to those professionally trained to do so."

"Are you still watching the news?" Ren asked.

"Yeah, I got bored watching cartoons." Nora answered. "Besides, this huntsman guy story is really interesting!"

"Interesting how?" Pyrrha asked. "Vigilantes are a rare occurrence, but not exactly unheard of. Though it has been some time since anyone has seen one in recent years."

"I know, right~?!" Nora squealed.

"Mmngh..."

"Oh, sorry, Jaune!" Nora patted her leader's head. "Poor guy was up all night, doing who knows what."

"The same night that vigilante captured Torchwick. You don't think Jaune is..."

"Oh, Ren, be real! There's no way Jaune is working with that guy! This guy is suave, and Jaune is... Jaune." She then tapped and swiped on her scroll. "Look, even Torchwick's side-lady is making goo-goo eyes at him!"

On Nora's scroll was a letter written in brown, pink, and yellow ink, all glittered, with two words for the vigilante who caught both her boss AND her attention.

WE'LL TALK~.

[butterli5]

Paris was a dream, but kissing his boyfriend every five minutes made it feel like a waking one.

They walked slowly along the Seine, fingers intertwined, pausing more often than not to kiss without reason, though Regulus always found one. Remus would smile wide the corners of his eyes crinkling, and Regulus would tug him close. Or Remus would scrunch his nose at something sweet and ridiculous, and Regulus would forget how to breathe. Or sometimes it was just because he could, because they were here, alive, warm, and kissing in Paris like it was the only thing they were meant to do.

It was nearly midnight when Regulus gently steered him toward a quiet garden path that turned up near the Musée de l'Orangerie.

Remus blinked in mild confusion. “Isn’t this the-?”

“Have you ever been?” Regulus asked casually, hands in his coat pocket like it was nothing, like his eyes hadn’t been shining all night.

Remus laughed, tipping his head to bump against his shoulder. “No, baby, this is my first time here. Remember? You planned the whole trip.”

Regulus smiled, biting his lip to keep it from spreading too wide. He tugged Remus toward the glass door just as a man in a long coat stepped out from the shadows, unlocking the door with a nod.

Remus turned to look at him, startled. “Wait… you didn’t—?”

Regulus only shrugged. “My last name still has some perks, love. I called in a favor.”

And suddenly, they were inside.

No crowds. No clicking cameras.

Just them, soft lights, and the glow of the Water Lilies wrapped around them like a breath held for too long.

Remus took a slow step forward into the first oval room and gasped softly. The paintings spilled across the curved walls like still water, glowing in the hush of the space. He walked with reverence, his hands tucked behind his back, his eyes catching every ripple, every shifting hue of blue and lavender and green. He was mesmerized. He has seen these paintings countless times before, on a library book when he was a child, his computer wallpaper in high school, the many bookmarks and tote bags he owned, but nothing, nothing felt like seeing it in real life, his eyes watering the longer he looked at each and every detail.

Regulus stood a little behind him, tucked in the corner, hands in his pockets, his gaze not moving from Remus once.

When Remus finally noticed, he turned, eyebrows raised. “You’re not even looking at the paintings.”

“I am,” Regulus said simply. “Just not the ones on the wall.”

Remus flushed his hands coming up to cover his flaming cheeks. “Oh my god.”

Regulus grinned and walked up to him, lacing their fingers together again as they moved into the next room.

“Did you know Monet painted the same landscape from his window over and over?” he murmured, voice low in the hush of the space. “Over 250 oil paintings. As a small child, I used to think that was torture. My parents forced me to sit in a chair with an old teacher for hours a day after school and make me draw the same thing for hours. Said it would sharpen discipline, said it would help to excel, be great. Sirius was a natural, the brush always felt easy in his hand while paint would just drip and smudge on my canvas. They eventually stopped, tried music for me when I was terrible at that one, and I was relieved for once because I got to have something of my own.”

He paused, watching the way Remus was staring now, not at the painting, but at him.

“But I get it now,” he added. “His obsession. The lifelong dedication to just wake up everyday, rain or shine, open his window and paint, even if his joints ached sketching the same lines, even if his paint ran dry in the chase of replicating the same nympheas and the same murky water, and even if the light was dimming in his eyes year after the other and so were the colors on his canvases. He had the perfect view. The perfect muse.”

He ran his thumb along Remus’ knuckles. “You're my water lily. Ma jolie nénuphar."

Remus was looking at him in a way that he never thought possible, a look he never thought would be aimed at him, so much love, so much adoration it still managed to make the breath catch in Regulus’ lungs. He kissed the back of his hand, tears pooling in his eyes mirroring the shine in the most beautiful ones he has ever seen.

"I could spend the rest of my life writing about you. About the unfathomable reality of someone with a heart as pure as yours still managing to float above murky waters, it defies gravity and the rules of nature and life in its entirety. You Remus Lupin are my water lily. I could fill notebooks upon notebooks writing it all. The three moles on your chest, their little triangle I always trace with my fingers like a sailor looking for his north star. The way your tea order keeps changing every three months but your sleepy smile doesn’t. How your hair looks when you first wake up, like you wrestled with the pillows all night. I’d age just to see how time writes you through the ink I'd spill on my pages.”

His voice dropped, rough and reverent.

“Let the light in my eyes change till it no longer exists, let my hands shake until my fingers can't get ahold of the pen, let my memory slip until words loose their shape in my brain. I’d still know how to write about you.”

Remus swallowed thickly, eyes glassy.

Historians, Regulus thought, would hang his poems beside Monet’s canvases and trace the seasons not through blossoms or brushstrokes, but through the change of light reflecting in Remus' eyes, warm brown in the cloudy winters with flecks of honey in front of their fireplace, and with pools of green under the warm July sun, they would know how many turns the earth has made around the sun not by the numbers changing in the corner of each canvas, but through the new line decorating his forehead, or the little white hairs he'd kiss every night on his beard until Remus was a giggling mess.

And even when the words themselves slipped from language into blur, some unreadable Morse code of a thing that not historian would know to decipher, their meaning would still be known even if not seen, a life told in sonnets and rhymes a d prose.

Love. This. Him.

Always.

"Regulus..., " Remus whispered, his voice reverent as he cupped his cheeks between his warm hands, "I could kiss you until my lips can't do it anymore, and I'd wager I would still keep doing it for as long as I have breath in my lungs."

Regulus closed his eyes and rested their foreheads together.

"Please do."

[romythorne]

Romy let the rim of her glass rest just beneath her lip, unmoving, while her eyes did that slow blink thing again — not sleepy, just deliberate. Like she was mentally opening a drawer labeled Garrick Brinewater: Proceed With Caution and finding it already too full to close. She didn’t answer right away, letting his words hang like a tune in a bar you know by heart but haven’t quite figured out if you’re in the mood to sing along to.

“Cut a rug after we rob the train,” she echoed, lips twitching into a grin that was more teeth than smile. “Look at you, already putting a little foreplay in the felony. You smooth talk every girl with a felony-misdemeanor combo platter, or am I just the lucky one tonight?” She didn’t flinch when he called her trouble. If anything, she accepted the title like it had been etched into a badge years ago and she’d simply stopped bothering to hide the shine.

And when he asked what told her about the fight-first instinct? Romy leaned forward just a hair, the angle lazy but deliberate, like a card sharp testing how far she could push before getting told to cash out. “‘Cause you talk like a man who’s already made peace with the wreckage,” she said, quiet but not kind. “Like someone who’s got practice holding a match too close and calling it warmth.”

She didn’t say it to wound. But she didn’t say it to spare him either.

Still, the edges softened when he asked who the right people were. That tugged something, though she was careful not to let it show all the way. Just a small glance down, then back up again, like the floor had whispered something useful and she wasn’t ready to admit it.

“I don’t think ghosts work on your schedule, Garrick,” she said finally, voice low and even. “They don’t all come to rattle chains and shriek in the vents. Some come to watch. Some owe you. Some stick around ‘cause they never got the map out. And if they’re still standing when you are, it’s not always a kindness to send ’em packing.” A beat. Her eyes flicked to his hand on the water glass, then back up, sharp with something unreadable. “So no,” she added, calm. “You don’t always let them die. Not if they’re the only ones who remember what you looked like before the wreckage.”

But she didn’t let the weight sit long.

The moment passed, and just like that, Romy shifted again — like someone flipping the station back to something lighter, tinny piano music overlaid with static and neon charm. The armor wasn’t down, but it flexed, just for a second.

“You crack my armor, Brinewater, and what? You gonna polish the dents?” she teased, plucking one last fry like it might be a peace offering. “Spoiler: the ghosts are unionized. They’ll want hazard pay.” She clinked his water glass this time instead of her own, then leaned back with a satisfied hum, as if the clatter meant something had been settled — even if it hadn’t.

At his offer to call a cab, she shook her head, the movement small but certain.

“Don’t worry about me,” she said, finishing off what was left in her glass with a small, content sigh. “I’m not far from home. Five blocks, four if I cut through the alley and don’t get distracted by the old poetry vending machine.”

Then, a little quieter, eyes sliding sideways to meet his without any theatrics left, “Are you good to make it home safe? Or do you need more water and a note pinned to your jacket in case you wander off? I could draw you a little map. I'm really good at that.” She didn’t stand just yet — not quite. Just watched him like she wasn’t done deciding whether the man across from her was more lighthouse or shipwreck.

Boots ghost one another beneath the table. A silent conversation in a broken language. Garrick soon feels the tug in his cheeks where his smile remains a permanent fixture. Lopsided at times, resting one muscle as bemusement glitters in the deep gaze of a man who enjoys something he has no right to. Pines about a similar smile, with a familiar confidence, and tongue-in-cheek humour that the old-time mobster can get right behind.

"Wha' if we cut a rug after we've robbed a train?" He isn't Butch Cassidy, nor the Sundance Kid and he wasn't in Texas for the Newton Gang's million-buck heist. It hadn't been his scene. But it could've been, with a hat-wearing doll like Romy III. But past lives have a way of either dying young or making their way back to haunt. "Can ya rattle, snake?" It's friendly, as with the wink and is the casual theft of a second ash-tasting fry.

Bbut when she reads him so blatantly for what he is, Garrick's teeth scrape against his lower lip, and sobriety has never felt so kind.

"What tells you that?" That he'd fight, before he'd talk.

Ain't he talking to her? He'll even confess she's had her moments of talking like apple butter. He knows a girl like that, who used to be his too. He has to laugh, to cover the sting of that. "Maybe I gots to fight one now, just to hear that." He thinks he'd like it, to have her mutter about nonsense-talk. He doesn't know if Romy would like him if she knew how close to the truth she's shooting. Invisible bullets that clip his arm, and his ear, shaving off the skin. She'll find he bleeds, but there isn't a nice way about it. No violence that Garrick cannot commit when pushed. He wonders, too, if she knows that, just by staring at him. In the way his eyes darken on her, battering away sails of memories that threaten to blind him in an ocean's storm. Remind him of a life long past, of people long dead.

"Told ya. Definitely trouble."

It stays light, even if he fears for a woman provoking the wrong kind of company. And he thinks he's struck a nerve, or taken a knife to her throat and held it there in threat. Shuttered off her talking in one flash — she's a talker, he doesn't need to know her to clock that trait about her. She's a cool cookie, a dessert that no longer burns in the mouth; a sweet delight, fresh-baked and waiting. He hadn't imagined she'd entertain the ghosts so callously. Not to a stranger, once-drunk, turned wayward soberman.

"Who is the right people, Romy?" If she wants to open the floodgates to ruin, then that's the way to do it. "You don't want the ghosts clinging to you. Let them go. You ain't owe them nothin', they've had their time." The dead should stay dead.

They definitely shouldn't talk. "You gotta let 'em die."

But, Mr. Brinewater, she says. She can drop the mister. He isn't about that. There's a tone shift, and Garrick's smart enough to notice it. Paused is the talk of ghouls, and the bothersome idea of the dead clinging to a soul to something that she's right about — provocative. She's being friendly, it ain't anything more. Garrick might have sobered up, but he's caught in this woman's snare, and he doubts she even knows it.

Doubts she knows the danger she's inviting in.

"What if I'm tryna crack your armour? Which of the ghosts you got tellin' you to keep it on, tell 'em I want a word."

Then she's closer than she's been, and the old sailor doesn't move. Neither does the gangster, or the coward, or the gentleman. None of those versions of him dares lean further in any direction when she's the deviant reaper of humour. Glasses clink, and it cracks the edges of their smiles. Emotionally compromised receipts? He doesn't know what that could mean any more than he might bother to ask. All he does know, is she's talking about the fries.

"Guts, ay?" Interesting notion. "Yours made of iron?" Something hard, like the shield she puts up. A hard shell that the wind, and ocean, and bloodied fists might beat against, just to see what it takes to make a breach. "Yer still standing, peach. That takes more than jus' guts. Known many a folk with a lot of them, didn't save them from cold hands of those who don't let bygones be bygones." Garrick thumbs his empty glass and reaches for the water instead, sips it. Wishing it were something else. "Whaddya say we get you in a cab now?"

They may not get their dance tonight because the ghosts intervened. But Garrick can't deny he doesn't enjoy her company, or her parrying. If she let him ride with her, he isn't sure where they'd go, but in his ideal, it's to dance with the gimmick-pirate.