#ty for thinking of them though 😌😌😌😌

[willowser]

i simply cannot move on from ur nerd kiri but what if both nerd Baku and nerd kiri were both ur coworkers… and they both had crippling crushes on u

oh god don't make me choose they have to be in SEPARATE UNIVERSES I CANT PICK 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🩷✨️

[dirty-c0yot3]

therian tips! (food)

so, I CRAVE raw meat a lot even though I can't eat it :( BUT I have compiled a list of foods that beings with human bodies can't eat (or just prefer not to), but that most animals eat that I could translate to human foods :D

worms = gummy worms :3 if you want them to be slimy like real worms, you could put water or a thin layer of oil on them

little insects = raisins or chia seed pudding (thank you to @puddin-dear 😌)

bigger insects = you could prob eat plain chips, I think it would have the same crunch affect. or chippers! (chocolate covered potato chips)

carrion (dead animal flesh) = jerky or bacon!! (ty @silverfoxboy for the bacon one!)

raw meat = meat sticks (I believe you can get them in beef or turkey) or raw pepperoni (you can get it small bags). suggested by @avocados019, salami :3, and commented by @horse-wisteria 😅 prosciutto (which I honestly forgot was a thing 😭) and multiple beings have said salmon and I keep forgetting about salmon 😭

mice = marshmallow mice (credits to @ink-man-sam )

kibble = cereal (I think most of you know that though) or for something softer- gnocchi! (Suggested by @emberslimehunts )

treats = Scooby snacks!

Snacks:

Go-gurt (if you freeze them, they're really good!)

nut bars, such as Nutri grain or Kind (good protein/energy + tasty)

Chex mix

assorted nuts/trail mix

smoothies!

(I have updated this a lot)

Have fun!

[shirefantasies]

I'm doing pretty good! Ty for asking

I wanted to request Lindir (and anyone else you might want to do) with a reader that loves playing with/braiding his hair? A very simple request but I find it adorable

That does sound quite sweet 😌 I decided to do this with all the major elves because we love elf fluff in this house 💖

Elves + Braiding

Lindir

✧ He is surprised the first time you idly take strands of his long brown hair in your hands, giving a look of polite surprise as he awaits your next action.

✧ Then you pull back the sides of his hair, braiding them at the back of his head, and he would be lying if he said it felt anything but satisfying, both having his face freed from the strands and also your hands delicately working their magic upon his hair.

✧ Too shy to request it, Lindir simply sits by your side, hoping the whim takes you again. Perhaps he will practice a song, sitting at his harp or holding a smaller instrument and feeling the small smile creep onto his lips when your fingers comb through his hair again.

✧ When he catches you in a moment of stress his subconscious works faster than his mind; without thinking he’s running hands through your hair, sliding the cool skin soothingly over your scalp.

✧ He turns red each time, but Lindir’s absolute favorite is when you rest your gorgeous head upon his shoulder. Gently he strokes your hair before ever-so-slightly resting his head atop yours.

Thranduil

✧ Fixes you with a look of surprise when you subconsciously reach for his long golden locks, but after removing a leaf from them your fingers twirl the ends of his tresses and he smiles fondly.

✧ Shakes his head a bit at you as you play with his hair, weaving new strands together. The loops you make may not be as intricate as others he has seen, but they are sturdy.

✧ From then on Thranduil dubs you talented, encouraging you to try more techniques, be they braiding or weaving. At first you can hardly help questioning if he sees your intent…

✧ …before you realize he is the only one you’re allowed to practice on. He is calling on you, plain and simple.

✧ You try to keep this out of your head, but the way the back of his hand traces your cheekbones as he sits you down makes that harder and harder…

Arwen

✧ You relax her in a way few else do, the ease you bring leading her to seek you out again and again.

✧ She knows how you enjoy what you do and she wants to pay it back, too. “Come, let us make our braids!” And just like that, your habit has become ours.

✧ She loves the feel of your hair, asking permission of course the first few times she touches it, but soon it seems even when you’re just sitting together someone is caressing the other’s hair.

✧ Sometimes when you’re feeling especially merry, you’ll playfully swat her with her own little ponytails. It always gets one of those rare laughs out of her.

✧ Cue Arwen wrapping her arms around your shoulders, forcing you to drop her hair as she grapples you (lovingly).

Elrond

✧ His eyes track yours one day, catching the way they follow the silky length of his hair. One day you venture sweeping some off his shoulder, growing bolder at Elrond’s soft smile.

✧ Your hands shake at first, but he nods and smiles reassuringly as you begin your weaving work. His hair is smooth, needing little to nothing, so instead you craft a kind of crown for him braided about his head.

✧ You tell him as much as you reveal your work, shocked at the way his expression has melted into something far, far softer.

✧ “Allow me to return the favor,” he says, hands sliding temptingly over your shoulders as he rotates you- and who are you to say no?

✧ “Though I do not deserve a crown,” you remind him. “You do not see things as I do, then.”

Legolas

✧ You’d never touch his hair without asking, unsure how Legolas would react until you shyly offer to braid it freshly back for him.

✧ He agrees with one of the smiles that has your heart leaping, encouraging you with a gentle nod as you take a seat behind him and begin your work. From the moments your hands brush his back, you can feel Legolas relaxing as you weave his golden hair.

✧ From then on he goes to you when he wants it fixed, teasingly asking if you might like to braid his hair again.

✧ It’s probably one of the most romantic things to happen to you the day Legolas sits you down, saying it’s his turn to take care of your hair.

✧ You two both end up in this sort of symbiosis of doing each other’s hair, barely ever touching your own.

Haldir

✧ Starts a bit the first time your hands comb his hair, but the butterflies he’s feeling may become evident in the way Haldir’s eyes fix you.

✧ You can feel him lean into your touch, the gentle motion of your fingers soothing him. Rare are the moments in which Haldir gives in to simple breath, release of all the burdens that he holds, and yet it is clear he craves it.

✧ "Why," he asks as you release his locks, letting them flow down his shoulders, "are you doing this?" "Do you really not know?" You simply ask back, caresses moving from the base of his neck to the sides of his face as you turn him your way.

✧ Your habit leads to the first of many kisses shared with Haldir, often stolen beneath the swaying branches of some faraway tree.

✧ Playing with your hair is not his habit, but running his hands wildly through it as your lips embrace is.

Galadriel

✧Amusement dances in her blue eyes as you reach up and comb her golden waves through your hands.

✧ “I’m sorry,” you sheepishly apologize, “may I?” “Of course,” she answers simply and gives a little nod as you step closer again.

✧ Galadriel turns to fix her enchanting gaze upon you as you work, smile too knowing not to bring warmth to your face and a shake to your fingers.

✧ Since that day, she combs her fingers through your hair as she passes by you, her fingers sometimes trailing down to the side of your cheek.

✧ You can feel her eyes upon you as far as her watch can reach, simultaneously bringing safe warmth shining through your chest and a shiver down your spine.

[si1verghosts]

Hi!

3. A kiss on the forehead😌

helloooo dear anon!! i am sorry this took so long i could not for the life of me figure out to write but then ! i wrote this on the 4th and i realized it could work... maybe... sorta. this may not be what you were expecting/wanting but there's forehead kisses in there.... somewhere 🫡 also, if u are not american i apologize for giving you a july 4th fic 😭 but the holiday is relatively inconsequential here like theres no patriotism it's just a backdrop if u know what i mean.... anyway, i hope u enjoy <33

you taste like the 4th of july

di leon s. kennedy x fem reader (no use of y/n)

wc: 3.5k

18+ | cw: mentions of drinking | tw: thoughts about death and dying

tags: established relationship; fluff (i guess??); slight changes to canon to suit author's headcanons

read on ao3

a/n: for the past few months i've been working on this very insane multi-chap post di leon fic 😵‍💫 this was written with that in mind But does not have a place in that story... probably.... idk!!! either way, i think it can be read as a standalone just fine

additionally, there is a scene in here where leon picks the reader up. i would just like to say like... he gets thrown into concrete walls on a biweekly basis and gets up and walks it off without issue so i think he can lift anyone no matter their size or shape!!

not beta read or proofread - sorry if any of it is gibberish i've had a wicked migraine the past few days... will maybe attempt to proofread once i can see correctly again 🚬🧍‍♀️regardless, all mistakes are my own

i do not own leon or any other resi character mentioned, etc etc, please don't sue me <3

please do not use my work to train any sort of AI chatbot and/or writing generator.

-----

"It was a good day, wasn't it?" Leon asks, wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder as you stand over the patio table, cleaning up the abandoned plates and platters.

You hum. It was; a beautiful, cloudless July 4th, spent with Leon's friends in the backyard of your home. The only ones missing were Ashley and Ingrid; the former having a standing family commitment and the latter planning to spend her holiday on the beach, away from the country and your fiancé.

Typically, Chris hosted the Independence Day cookout, but Leon offered up your new home as this year's venue, citing your in-ground pool and the plenty of extra space you have for guests to stay. In reality, he just wanted the chance to out-grill Chris - he'd been preparing since Memorial Day; testing different spice and sauce combinations as well as stocking your freezer full of large cuts of meat.

He'd started before you were even awake, chopping and seasoning in the kitchen, slowly loading up the smoker. You'd joined him on the patio a few hours later, watching from your pool floaty as he poked and prodded at various things.

You don't even eat meat, didn't know the whole thing was so involved, but you did enjoy the view; worn blue jeans hugging his frame as he crouched to check a thermometer.

You had taken a short break from the water, tying up lights and setting a few little decorations around before your guests arrived. Rebecca was the first, tucking her jugs of pre-made cocktail and platter of deviled eggs into your fridge before joining you on the patio.

Chris wasn't far behind, unloading two coolers filled with beer and containers of homemade potato and pasta salads. He'd handed one off to you, grinning, "Claire made one just for you this year."

You'd thanked him, making another attempt to get him to share his family's recipes with you. It was futile, you probably couldn't even waterboard it out of either of them.

Claire had arrived on her motorcycle shortly after, pulling a bundle of fireworks out of her saddlebags. "Sorry I'm late," she said - even though she wasn't - dumping the pile on the ground, thankfully far away from the grill. "Had to stop for these."

Leon had crouched down to inspect them, listening intently as Claire told him about all the different varieties she'd purchased while you relaxed back into the pool.

Sherry arrived next, Jake trailing behind her. She'd left both him and her bags of chips at the table, giving Leon and Claire quick hugs before immediately joining you in the water.

She'd slipped in right beside your floaty, grabbing your hand to get a look at your engagement ring - she'd yet to see it, having been so busy with work. Her eyes widened at the ring as she pushed her sunglasses up to rest on top of her head, "Leon picked this out? Our Leon? Leon Kennedy? Are you sure?"

You'd giggled at her astonishment, "Ashley helped him out; took him to one of her favorite jewelers."

"I should've guessed," She nods. "For my 20th Birthday, he bought me this crazy cute pink tennis bracelet and I was like, 'no way you picked this out alone.' He fessed up that he got a little help from a friend named Ashley.

"At the time, I thought it was just some girlfriend - or hoped, I guess. Back then, I spent a lot of time hoping that Claire and Leon weren't just… working; I liked to think they were taking time for themselves, that they were happy," she had trailed off then, looking off to the tree line behind your house for a minute. Blinking the mist from her eyes, she shrugged, continuing on, "Anyways, I'm thankful to Ash for that bracelet, it was there with me though… a lot. And I'm thankful to you for making him happy, like I always wanted him to be."

With that, you slid off the float to give her a hug, holding her tight as you whispered your thanks. You had worked to bite back your tears - if she didn't cry, neither would you.

Luckily, Jill had walked in a few seconds later, providing a distraction in the form of the most ridiculously large watermelon. "Hey, Kennedy," she shouted, pulling Leon out of his conversation with Claire as she gestured to the melon tucked under her arm. "Can't burn this, can I?"

Leon had thrown his head back with a laugh - in previous years, Jill had always brought boxed brownies with extra crispy edges and Leon invariably had to make a comment about them. "I don't know," he had shrugged, "When it comes to you, Valentine, I'll never say never."

Jill had reared the watermelon back, acting as if she was going to throw it at him. Leon had thrown his arms up, shielding his face, causing everyone to crumble into laughter at the scene.

"It was nice," you agree, reaching to pick up the barong machete he had given Jill when she asked for a knife to cut the melon. "We do have kitchen knives, you know," you scold mockingly, gently waving the blade around.

"I know," he says, releasing you to reach around and pluck the machete out of your hand. "It's good to exercise these every once in a while, though."

You roll your eyes at him, "It's a machete, Leon, not a horse."

He waves you off, slipping through the patio door to wash the blade in the kitchen sink. You take the opportunity to speed clean, knowing it'll be a much harder task once he returns and wraps his arms back around you.

Thankfully everyone had taken care of their own plates and cups - they'd tried to stay and do more but you had ushered them out of the backyard, wanting Chris, Sherry and Jake to depart before the traffic picked up with the crowds leaving the city following the fireworks shows. Jill, Claire and Rebecca had taken up on your offer to stay, at least, piling into your guest rooms. You were glad to have them, secretly plotting to drag them to brunch once you all woke.

You finish piling the platters as Leon makes his way back outside. Before he can get his hands on you and derail your progress, you point to the stack, "Take those inside."

He frowns, "Can't it just wait until tomorrow?"

"We'll get ants; come on, five minutes and it'll be done."

He sighs, but doesn't protest further, carrying the heavy plates inside as you follow him with the utensils. You stack everything by the sink before turning to him, "Is there any of Becca's cocktail left?"

He cocks his brow, tilting his head, "You really want to try that again?"

It's a valid question - you had given it a go earlier and despite everyone's warnings to take it easy, you had thrown back a large mouthful right off the bat. You ended up wincing in pain, "Fuck, that burns. What'd you put in there, Becca?"

She'd shrugged, "Oh, you know, a splash of this, a splash of that. And," she teased, drawing out the vowel, "A bit of my own creation."

"Your own creation…" You had muttered, trailing off before it hit you, "Test tube alcohol?"

She had giggled, grinning, "Takes some getting used to."

You had tried another, much tinier sip. You were able to enjoy the sweetness of the juice for a moment before the burn kicked in again, causing you to curse once more, louder.

Leon had shifted his attention from Chris to you at your exclamation. Seeing the jug of Rebecca's cocktail in front of you on the table, he quickly pieced together what was happening, calling over to Rebecca from his place by the grill, "You trying to kill my fiancé, Becks?"

"Absolutely not; that'd be a stupid thing for me to do," she'd shot back. "She's the only one who can keep you in line, and we kind of like you like that."

"Well," you start, rolling the word around your mouth, "No. But yes - there's gotta be some sort of trick to it, right? Everyone else drank it just fine."

"The trick is," he starts, voice low, reaching out to grab ahold of your hips, "To not drink it. Let me make you some tea instead."

"Fine," you pout, relaxing into his grip, not bothering to argue - tea won't make you hate yourself in the morning.

He moves his hands from your hips, sliding his fingertips along your spine. "Go wait outside," he says, releasing you with a featherlight kiss to your forehead, "I'll bring it out."

With a brush of your lips against his cheek in thanks, you slip away from him, heading back out to the backyard and pulling off your shorts, settling onto the ledge of the shallow end of the pool. The air has cooled with the setting of the sun, becoming a comforting warmth instead of an overbearing heat. You dip your legs into the water, thankful you insisted on having a pool when you and Leon were house hunting.

Someone is still setting off fireworks; they're a few miles away, though - you can hear them more than you can see them. Resting back on your palms, you close your eyes, imagining what bursts of color may be accompanying each sound.

Leon joins you a few minutes later - just after the fireworks had died down - sporting his swim shorts and carrying your tea. He bends, setting the mug next to you with a kiss to your temple, nosing at your hair. "Earl Grey," he reports before drawling, "How terribly unpatriotic of you."

"You going to arrest me for treason, Agent Kennedy?" You laugh, reaching up to squeeze his thigh below the hem of his shorts. "You're the one who made it; they'd nail you as an accomplice."

He falls into a crouch, leg muscles bunching under the pads of your fingertips as he shifts closer to touch his lips on your cheek. "They can hang us together, then," he remarks, voice a bit too serious for it to be just a joke. "Side by side, off the same branch."

You sit back just enough to get your eyes focused on him, reaching your other hand out to thumb at his bottom lip. "Dulce et decorum est pro cor mori," you whisper, tacking on a hum in question.

He cocks his head at the unfamiliar words, nipping at your nail playfully, "English please, baby."

You consider him for a moment, the translation of the true phrase running through your mind; how sweet and honorable it is to die for one's country. The old lie, it's come to be known as - fittingly.

It's a similar sentiment to one that's grown to become your fear; that he'll die for the sake of the country, under orders from the government, believing it was his duty.

But you think your spin on it may be true; would be willing to find out.

You don't want to weigh him down with the thought, though, choosing to reel him in for a kiss instead. "I love you," is the answer you settle on, laying the words down right on his tongue.

He seems content with your translation - the method of delivery likely having something to do with it - humming into your mouth. He kisses you back lazily for a long, languid moment before he pulls away, "As much as I'm enjoying this, I've been wanting to get in there all day," he says, nodding his head towards the water.

"Go," you chuckle, giving him a gentle push away from you with the hand still resting along his face.

He lays another quick peck against your lips before standing, padding around the edge to the steps. He pauses for a moment to pull his shirt over his head, skin honeyed under the soft glow of the lights you'd hung around the patio.

A second later, he slips under the surface without hesitation; kicking off the steps, moving quickly to the deep end. He almost shimmers as he glides along the floor of the pool, the rippling of the gentle waves he'd created making him seem like some sort of mirage as he passes by you.

He comes up for air once he hits the far wall, tossing his hair back, smoothing the water from his eyes. He doesn't rest long, though, beginning to swim short laps across the width of the deep end.

You observe him, sipping your tea slowly, appreciating the way his back and arms work with each stroke. He continues long enough for you to nearly drain your cup, stopping short when another trio of fireworks set off in the distance.

Setting your mug down, you eye him, preparing to slip into the pool to soothe him if you have to, but he relaxes once he connects the sound to the flashes in the sky. The tension that had flooded the line of his shoulders drains into the water as he shifts to wade backward, moving closer to where you sit.

You finish off your drink as he starfishes out across the surface of the water, floating just a few feet in front of you. You wonder if you could use him as a floaty, pinning up a note in your brain to try it out sometime.

"I'm glad you insisted on a pool, sweetheart," he sighs, breaking your companionable silence.

You hum, pleased, kicking your legs out gently and causing the water to lap against his skin. More fireworks sound out; he doesn't tense this time, but he does get his feet back under himself, moving to where you sit along the ledge.

Sliding his hands up your legs, he pillows his head in your lap, wet hair fanning out across your thighs. You shift your weight back onto your right hand, laying the other along his jaw. His eyes flutter closed as you brush your thumb along his cheekbone and the scar that runs beneath it.

He picks at the tie of your bathing suit absentmindedly, tugging at the strings when you slide your hand into his hair, scratching at his scalp. "Sherry said something to me earlier."

He makes a noise urging you to elaborate, not bothering to open his eyes.

"She told me that when she was younger, she hoped that you and Claire were living your lives; that you were doing more than just working, you know? She said she wanted you guys to be happy," you explain, working to keep your voice even.

He cracks his eyes open, picking his head up to watch you as you continue. "She thanked me," you swallow thickly, "for making you happy, like she always wanted you to be."

He smiles at your words, and it's a beautiful thing. You still get all twisted up inside with how gorgeous he is; neurons overclocking themselves with the thrill of being the subject of his attention.

"I owe you a thank you, too, baby," he starts, pausing to nose at your wrist.

"You don't owe me anything, Leon," you tug at his damp strands still between your fingers, highlights catching the yellow glow from the lights around the patio.

"I do," he says, the words sending a jolt through you. You never intended on getting married, yet here you are now, eager to hear the phrase on the altar.

He kisses the thin skin of your wrist, lips lingering as if he can feel the thrum of your heartbeat; knows that the pace has picked up under his affection. "All this," he pulls back, taking a hand off you to gesture to the pool; the backyard; the house; to you. "It's something I never thought I'd get.

"Sherry's right - you're behind basically every bit of happiness I have now, sweetheart; I owe it all to you." He reaches up, untangling your grip from his hair, thumbing gently at the ring he put there, "Thank you."

You can't respond verbally, will burst into tears if you do. In lieu of speech, you lean forward, pressing your lips against his insistently.

He seems to get the message; understands that the pleasure is all yours, that you'd give him anything and everything you can - knowing he'd do the same for you.

He gets his arms back around you, continuing your kiss as he lifts you from the edge of the pool and into the water with him. You wrap your legs around his waist, safe and secure in his hold.

His teeth catch along your bottom lip and the neighbors down the street set off fireworks, the bright bursts of color painting your backyard in reds and blues and greens and oranges. The sparks reflect off the surface of the water as he slides his nose against yours and not for the first time, you think this may all be a dream. Maybe you died four years ago and this whole thing has been some sort of afterlife; you aren't sure you'd done anything worth this treatment, though.

Maybe it's more supernatural in origin; an intricate hallucination weaved by a Djinn that's got you chained up in some dark, damp basement as it feeds off your blood. Or maybe you just went crazy and the pool is actually a padded room, Leon's mouth against yours a product of your mind working to distract itself from your reality.

Whatever the case may be, it certainly feels real when he shifts his hold on you, hoists you up higher to get at your neck, laying kisses up and down the column of your throat, nipping at your jaw.

But before he can venture much further, the neighbor's fireworks show grows into an extravaganza, the relentless popping and bursting becoming a nuisance, shattering the illusion of your teeny-boppy movie moment.

"Jeez," Leon mutters, breath hot against the saliva cooling on your skin, causing you to shudder. "Did they buy out a whole tent?"

"Did you check that Claire actually went to bed?" You ask, shaking yourself free of his hold. "She could've joined them; brought everything I wouldn't let her set off here."

He hums, letting you down into the water, considering your words - even though you said it as a joke, it certainly is a possibility. You seem to come to this realization at the same time, eyes narrowing at each other as the spray of fireworks continues overhead. "We should…" He starts, nodding towards the stairs.

"Yeah," you agree, already beginning to move.

You pause to grab your towels, wrapping your own around yourself, throwing the other over Leon's shoulders when you catch up to him at the patio door. Stepping inside, you hear someone knocking around your kitchen.

Luckily, it's Claire. She steps back from the cabinet she'd been rifling through to face you and Leon with a frown. "Isn't this shit ridiculous?" She remarks, pointing to the ceiling in reference to the fireworks.

"You're one to talk, Claire," Leon shoots back. "Didn't you just set off about five hundred dollars worth of them in my backyard a few hours ago?"

"Yes, a few hours ago," she reiterates. "Nothing should be set off after the show at the Capitol is finished - after that, you're done; you missed your shot; better luck next year."

"Exactly," you nod in agreement at her reasoning, "They should put you in charge."

She grins at your words, moving to continue on, but Leon cuts in before she can start; "What is it that you were clawing through my cabinets for?"

She sighs, displeased with his interruption, setting her hands on her hips. "Where do you keep the ibuprofen?"

Leon shoos her out of the way, padding across the kitchen to get the medicine himself. Claire relents without argument, attention immediately shifting back to you as she leans over the counter. "So," she wiggles her eyebrows, "It seems like that pool was a good investment, huh?"

You bite at your lip, ears burning with embarrassment that she'd seen you and Leon necking in the water like teenagers - even though you shouldn't be flustered; it is your house, after all.

Leon sets the bottle of ibuprofen and a glass of water down in front of Claire, annoyance evident with the way he uses a bit more force than really necessary, causing the items to clack against the marble.

"What?" Claire questions, glaring at him. "It was cute."

Leon huffs in response, unable to hide the flush that crawls up his neck at her words. You can't help the giggle that bubbles out of you, enjoying the way they bicker like siblings.

Claire leaves Leon to stew, tossing you a grin as she collects the bottle and glass, bidding you goodnight once more before she leaves the kitchen.

You move around the counter to Leon, steps careful in an effort not to slip on the water that has dripped off him and onto the tile. The neighbors must've ran out of fireworks while you were distracted by Claire as it's silent when you wrap your arms around him, tucking your face into his neck. "Still a good day?" You ask, voice muffled against his skin.

He slings an arm around you, fingers fanning out along the small of your back, "Still a good day."

[nyoomerr]

Only if you want but phantom thief! Binghe x rich boy Shen Yuan, heir to a famous jeweler/jewerly store business.

It can be Bingge or Binghe, whatever you want! Love your work!

dont mind me using this as a sort-of warm up for writing a much bigger bingge pov binggeyuan thing ehehe 😌 ty for sending this prompt in!

---

Luo Binghe does not get caught. It’s in his title, even - a phantom thief, completely untouchable. 

Well, perhaps not completely untouchable. After all, many times the most efficient way to get his hands on a particularly valuable set of jewelry is to let the lady wearing it put her hands on him. Flirtations and bold fondling in a dark corner of a party, hands on the woman’s face and shoulders and the diamond necklace around her neck -

Normal things for someone in Luo Binghe’s line of work, really, when that someone looks the way Luo Binghe does. Charm is as indispensable a tool as a lockpick. 

It’s only a tool that Luo Binghe dares to use when he knows it will be well received, though. Unwelcome advances are more likely to get a mark to grow more defensive on all lines, not just towards sexual advances, and then the whole job gets more difficult. Still not impossible - not for Luo Binghe - but Luo Binghe has a messy habit of turning theft into murder when he’s faced with rejection. 

It isn’t his fault. The people who turn Luo Binghe away - who look at him with cold disinterest and disgusted sneers plastered across their ugly, painted faces - they deserve to die. Luo Binghe is only doing the world a service.

Still, the cleanup becomes much more difficult when Luo Binghe’s mouth is stained with blood rather than smeared lipstick, so he learns to assess his marks carefully. Those that would think themselves clever and better than Luo Binghe get stolen from in the traditional sense, and they never see Luo Binghe during the process.

Shen Yuan is one such mark. Oh, Luo Binghe could break him in, probably - he watches from a distance as Shen Yuan’s eyes linger on the strong forearms of the barista who hands him his coffee, and he knows without testing that Luo Binghe could fluster such a small thing like Shen Yuan without much effort. 

To actually touch Shen Yuan, however, would be far more difficult. Luo Binghe knows this much from even the most basic of background searches: Shen Yuan takes pretty girls to banquets despite never touching them, and the way he dresses… yes, Shen Yuan certainly would like to think of himself as a straight man, the poor thing. Not the sort of nut Luo Binghe cares to crack when it’s for business rather than pleasure.

Besides, most of Shen Yuan’s valuables are kept in his family’s home. The pretty things Luo Binghe could nick off Shen Yuan’s person are limited and hardly the most enticing of Shen Yuan’s things, so there’s no need to push it.

Shen Yuan will simply be the sort of mark that never sees Luo Binghe, never gets close enough to touch.

That’s the sort of mark Shen Yuan is supposed to be.

“Um,” Shen Yuan says, standing awkwardly in the doorway of the very high security office that Luo Binghe has just broken into. “Can I, um. Help you…?”

Luo Binghe stares at him. He’s just finished picking the lock on one of the glass cabinets in the office, and he knows that from Shen Yuan’s perspective he must have a very clear view of the ruby earrings that Luo Binghe had plucked from the case.

He doesn’t stare long. Hesitating only ever gets someone caught, and Luo Binghe does not get caught.

The office has no windows, so Luo Binghe will have to exit through the door that Shen Yuan is standing in. He turns to face Shen Yuan fully - he empty hand neatly plucking a few more pieces from the cabinet and tucking them in his pockets as he moves - and starts sauntering over to Shen Yuan.

Shen Yuan was not meant to be one of the marks he seduced, but plans can change. He’ll just need to fluster Shen Yuan long enough to make it past him to one of the several exit plans Luo Binghe had planned. 

That should be enough - Shen Yuan is only wearing an oversized shirt and boxers, clearly having gotten up from bed without dressing properly, and he doesn’t appear to be carrying anything in his hands. All that together means he’s likely not carrying his phone, and Luo Binghe knows the security schedule well enough to know that Shen Yuan yelling wouldn’t have anyone arriving quick enough to stop him. 

Shen Yuan takes half a step back as Luo Binghe approaches, but he doesn’t leave the doorway. He must have some idea that he’s the only obstacle in Luo Binghe’s way, then. Luo Binghe smiles at him, only half faking the predatory look of it. 

“Yuan-er,” Luo Binghe croons, and Shen Yuan shuffles back another half foot, his ears turning pink where they stick out from some truly terrible bed head.

Spoiled, Luo Binghe thinks in the privacy of his own mind, poisonous and bitter. A child who’s always been allowed laziness.

“Yuan-er, you’ve really got to put better locks on your things,” Luo Binghe says as he approaches. “Isn’t this your family’s precious legacy? That sort of thing should be protected…”

Shen Yuan’s brows furrow. Luo Binghe can very clearly read the baffled what the fuck that silently twists his lips, but Luo Binghe doesn’t react. 

That’s it, little rabbit - just stand there, and let yourself be confused and taken aback by the thief in front of you, and I’ll escape before you have to worry your spoiled little head about it.

Luo Binghe is only a few paces away, now. He’ll brush past Shen Yuan’s right side to avoid getting caught on the arm he has resting on the doorway, and -

“Say please,” Shen Yuan says, glaring up at Luo Binghe as he crosses his arms.

Luo Binghe falters. “What was that, Yuan-er?”

“You’re clearly capable of sweet talk, so you should start with asking nicely before you take our shit,” Shen Yuan scoffs. 

Luo Binghe stops in front of Shen Yuan, close enough that Shen Yuan has to tilt his head up to maintain eye contact with him. 

He should just brush past, really. Shen Yuan is small, and Luo Binghe already knows he doesn’t have a way to raise alarm in an effective way.

Luo Binghe does not brush past.

He kind of wants to slit Shen Yuan’s throat for thinking he has any right to tell Luo Binghe to say please, sitting comfortably in the lap of luxury like he is. 

“I’m impressed,” Luo Binghe says, his smile so sharp it may as well just be a baring of his teeth. “Yuan-er knows so many big words for a little princling of such an important business. Did you learn them from listening to clients speak to your daddy?”

Shen Yuan’s eye twitches. “Ah,” he says. “You’re an asshole on top of being impolite, then.”

Luo Binghe’s fingers twitch towards the switchblade in his pocket. He wouldn’t be able to clean up a body before security loops back around to this wing of the house, and Luo Binghe has already left a mess from being interrupted in the middle of his heist. He hasn’t left any fingerprints, but he can’t be sure about hair -

Shen Yuan reaches up and flicks Luo Binghe’s forehead. Luo Binghe goes dead still. That’s it, then. He’s going to kill Shen Yuan, this rich little brat -

“Oi, you’re going to ruin your pretty face with a mean expression like that,” Shen Yuan complains. “Just get out of here if you aren’t going to listen nicely - I already called security before coming over here to tell you off myself.”

Luo Binghe pulls out the switchblade, snarling down at Shen Yuan. “Oh, Yuan-er, I think there’s something much better I could ruin.”

Shen Yuan shifts uncomfortably at the sight of the blade, some of his irritation replaced with the faintest glimmer of fear. Luo Binghe pushes closer, wanting to see more - wanting to see Shen Yuan’s delicate face contorted with the sort of despair that a little lordling like him would never have known before, wanting to see him cry - 

There’s footsteps from down the hall. Shen Yuan had not been bluffing; he really had called someone, then. Luo Binghe cannot guarantee he’ll be able to kill Shen Yuan quickly enough that Shen Yuan is unable to give a description of his murderer to the help before he dies.

Hesitating gets people caught. Luo Binghe does not get caught, so he brushes past Shen Yuan harshly without another moment’s pause, even though what he wants to do is something far more violent and time consuming. 

Luo Binghe hasn’t failed a heist like this since he was a damn child, and this stupid little twink dares to just stand there and watch Luo Binghe run down the hallway to the nearest window instead of lay bleeding on the ground like he should be doing, Luo Binghe will come back to kill him -

“At least say thanks!” Shen Yuan calls out as Luo Binghe approaches the window. “Even if you can’t ask nicely to begin with, you should at least say thanks, ah!”

Luo Binghe ignores him. He’s busy pulling his jacket off to wrap around his arms, preparing to jump through the window’s glass in such a way that he can avoid getting cut and leaving his own blood at the scene of the crime.

“Aiya, what an asshole…” Shen Yuan is grumbling behind him. “You know, you may regret not bothering to pay me a bit more attention.”

Oh, Luo Binghe is paying attention. He’s very vividly imagining what Shen Yuan’s neck would feel between his fingers, right now, even as he backs up several steps to get a running start at the window. 

The office had been on the second story, so Luo Binghe has to roll to mitigate the force of the fall. He stands quickly, does a perfunctory check of his pockets to ensure nothing fell when he hit the ground, and -

He’s missing the jewelry he nicked. He has the ruby earrings, but the others he’d stolen as he was leaving are gone. Luo Binghe searches the ground around where he’d fallen frantically; he has to move now, but he can’t leave those behind either. After all that this heist has brought, Luo Binghe can’t allow it to not even be profitable. 

Above him, Shen Yuan clears his throat from the broken window. Luo Binghe whips his head up to look at him.

In one hand, Shen Yuan is holding the missing jewelry.

“I told you,” Shen Yuan says. “Jeez, as if I’m that useless.”

Luo Binghe stares up at him. No one has ever dared to steal back from Luo Binghe.

“...Aren’t you going to leave? Security really will be here soon.” Shen Yuan calls down at him. Then he pauses, and even in the darkness Luo Binghe can tell his ears have gone pink again. “...I let you keep the rubies. They, uh. Would probably go well. With you. And your eyes. And uh. Anyway, say thanks!”

“...Thanks?” Luo Binghe says, baffled and furious and still sort of itching to take his switchblade out and throw it pointy-side first at Shen Yuan’s pretty face.

“You’re welcome, asshole!” Shen Yuan calls back, clearly pleased. 

Luo Binghe stares for a moment longer, then turns and runs. He will not get caught, even on nights that have gone as stupendously terrible as this one has. So long as he doesn’t get caught, there’s always next time. 

So long as he doesn’t get caught, Luo Binghe can come back here, to the office of jewels he failed to get - to Shen Yuan. 

Next time, Luo Binghe won’t fail.

[luveline]

I am humbly requesting a steve zombie au where the reader gets hypothermia hehehe😌

ty for ur humble request babe ♡ steve zombie au —steve freaks when you show symptoms of hypothermia. fem!reader 2k

"Steve, I think there's something wrong." 

Steve raises his head to show he's listening, keeping his gaze on the map. You say it through shivers, sleeves pulled down over your makeshift mittens. "What's wrong, honey?"

He's noticed you aren't yourself today, and he thinks a soft tone is the least he can give you. The stupid map in his hand is tattered, creased down the middle from folding and unfolding. He thought getting to Michigan would be easy, walk in one direction and keep on, but you both need to eat and rest and the weather is too cold to go any further. He needs to find a residential, tonight. 

"I feel off. I'm tired and I…" Your mumbling drifts off. 

Steve shoves the map under his arm, "What? Tell me." 

"Cold," you say, slurred, offering your hands. "I can't feel my fingers." 

You're wearing socks over your hands, the best gloves Steve could offer. He takes them with a severe frown, unhappy when the cold of your skin permeates through. You're ice. 

"And you don't feel well?" he asks, feeling up your arm to your neck. 

Steve digs under the layers of your shirts, hoodie, coat, feeling for your pulse. It feels alarmingly slow. He'd never guess from looking at you how slow your heart is pumping. 

Steve doesn't know everything, but he knows you're not supposed to be this cold for this long. You shiver as his fingers warm your neck, a pained hum coming from the very back of your throat as he pulls you in for a hug. 

"Okay," he says, rubbing your back even though he knows it's pointless. "Don't worry. We can't stay outside anymore, huh?" 

Steve aches to have to drag you down road after road, stretches of streets littered with little protection to offer. The roadside stores here are rocked by the elements, windows smashed and ceilings caving in. You're stumbling by the time a crop of houses appear in the distance, lethargic. Steve thought it was bad that you were cold, of course, but this is a more primal fear. You're not cold, you're freezing, actively freezing. 

"You're okay," he says again, his gentlest reassurance. "Sweetheart, just a few more minutes. See that house, the big brown shutters? That's where we're going. Can you do it?" 

"I can do it," you murmur. 

"I know, but it's my turn to ask stupid questions." 

Dead trees line the street, a planter of flowers by the door turned to crisps. Steve props you against a beam of wood holding up the angled porch roof and opens the screen door. He tries the handle on the interior. It's locked, a good sign. 

He's admittedly feeling the adrenaline of your imminent demise. Furious with the world and circumstances and himself for letting this happen, Steve kicks the door down with three big kicks. The bang rings like a shot through the entire neighbourhood, he imagines, but there's no time to worry about it. 

"You have to–" little gasp, Steve's head hurts, "have to sweep the house," you say as he pulls you inside. 

If there's something in here, he has to risk it. Out of options. 

He's as softhanded as he can manage dropping you into a seemingly intact couch. The room appears untouched from whoever left it, rather plush, it's a room Steve would've liked to live in. 

He grabs your face. You meet his eyes, startled. 

"I'm going upstairs for blankets. If something happens, you yell for me as loudly as you can. You don't have to say anything, just scream. Seriously." 

"Yeah," you say breathlessly. The last street of walking and the few steps has exhausted you. 

"Don't sleep," he says severely. 

"No, I won't." 

Steve dumps his bag on the floor. He backtracks to the porch to grab yours and wedges the splintered door closed using your bag as a temporary stopper. 

You must be hypothermic, cold for days, too cold to sleep last night, and it's all Steve's fault. We can do it, he'd said, just another push. He hoped for better standing further out of Indiana. None of it will matter if you get sick. 

He spins to walk up the stairs, falls weak and rushes back into the living room to check on you. 

"Everything's okay," he says, taking your face again into his hands and kissing your forehead. It's purely selfish. 

You touch his elbow. "I know." 

Steve takes off his jacket and puts it over your lap. The house is vaguely warmer than outdoors but it's far from enough to make a difference to you. Heart in his throat, he bounds up the stairs and onto the landing, an L-shape with one bedroom straight in front and four doors on left. The smell of gore coming from the closed master bedroom explains how it could be this clean; it wasn't uncommon at the start of the apocalypse for people to lock themselves in, kill themselves and their families. He has no interest in seeing it, nor unleashing the mould spores that come with decomposition. Whatever blankets were in there are worthless now. 

He takes a left and opens the door with a slam. A teenage bedroom not unlike his own back home, a simple comforter on the bed. He grabs it and tosses it on the landing, dipping into the second room. Bathroom, nothing worth having. The third room is a utility room with a jackpot of folded sheets, towels, padded quilts, and a comforter rolled into a log. He throws everything onto the floor and forgets the fourth door, arms fit to burst with fabric as he descends back downstairs. 

"Steve?" you ask.

"Yep, yes. I'm here." He drops the blankets at your feet. "Are your clothes damp?" 

"I think… no." 

"I'd tell you to take off your jacket," he begins, shaking the biggest comforter out over you as he talks, "but I want as many layers as possible. Come here, sweetheart. Lift your back a little." He tucks you in like a pastry. "Good. Good, thank you, sweetheart." 

"You're being very nice," you mumble, your eyelashes twitching like you've dimes weighing down your eyelids. 

"I'm always nice." 

"No," you say, your head falling back into the couch cushions. It's a family couch made of soft fabrics, not the showy leather piece you'd expect in such a mammoth lodging. "You're okay, though." 

Steve piles blankets on top of you. The cold is eating at him too, his nose stiff, his hair standing on end as gooseflesh ripples over his arms. 

When you've been sufficiently sandwiched, he feels your face again. You're already warmer, his hand creeping down into your shirt to feel for your pulse. Ropey. 

"Sweetheart, I need you to try and perk up," he says, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. 

"Not feeling perky." 

"Ah, but you're always perky. You're my sun, 'cos I'm so awful," he says, panic lining his plea. "You are. I'm going to make you something hot to eat." 

"Hot air?" you ask, slinking further down into your hump of sheets. 

"I think we might be in luck." 

He speaks too soon, really. The cupboards are lackluster. The can of soup he'd been hoping to find doesn't materialise. But there's a small can of ravioli, enough salted fish to make any tom cat happy, and a jug of water beneath the sink. He looks at it and sighs in relief. You have two litres of rainwater in your bag, and that had been the rations. This is one less thing to worry about. 

Steve makes sure that there kitchen door and the patio doors in the lonely dining room are locked, taking a big cooking pot from the pantry (depressingly empty bar a bag of sugar spilled on its side and a sack of grain) and a saucepan from atop the stove. He checks the gass but he's never that lucky, resigning himself to a typical campfire when it doesn't work. 

"Steve, put it back on," you say as he comes back in, your eyes a little wider, slightly more alert. You've pulled your arms out from under the blankets, with his jacket in your hands. 

Steve has kissed you before. You haven't talked about it out loud —he'd like to think a lot has been said in hand-holding, in spooning, and in you hand carding through his hair. He's eager to kiss you again, dumping his findings to hold your wrists. "Thank you," he says, kissing you clumsily, your lips cold. "Now put your arms in. I'll pull the blankets up." 

"Can you kiss me again?" 

"I'm trying to make you some hot water." 

"I'm warm enough already. Please?" 

Steve kisses you again. This time, he closes his eyes, puts his hand against your jaw. The sound of your lips pressing to his seems loud in the quiet. 

He pulls away with a final peck. "Are you feeling warmer?" 

You blow breath up your face. "Bet so." 

Steve rolls his eyes and turns away to make a campfire in the stolen pot. He'll boil some water in the saucepan for you to hold like a risky hot water bottle, and make some warmed ravioli. It'll be sweet. And tomorrow, if you're feeling better, he'll scavenge for supplies in the neighbourhood. Tonight, he'll burn the kitchen chairs. They don't need them anymore. 

"Settle in," he says, opening his backpack for the fire starters and matches. "We'll stay for a while, okay?" 

"Yeah, okay. Sorry for the fuss." 

"Are you kidding?" He can't look at you. He'll probably cry. "It's cold. You were cold, and we didn't– I knew your coat wasn't good enough but I just thought… well, it's my fault. It is. And I– I care about you so much," —he says it in a rush, true but unused to admitting his feelings to you or anyone— "I can't do this without you. I'll take better care of you, I swear. It won't happen again." 

"You know what would really warm me up?" you ask. 

Steve turns on his heel. "Let me make you something to eat." 

"Not hungry, just cold." 

Steve tamps down a giddy smile into one more respectable. "Let me feel your pulse," he relents, lifting the heavy layer of blankets to climb inside. Its roasting, the warmest he's felt in weeks, and your arm is alive as he slides into your side. 

He puts his hand against your neck, waiting for a steady bump. 

"Am I cured?" you ask. 

Steve sighs in relief. "You're cured." 

You wrap your arms around him. Life with you and in this situation is an endless rise and fall. Something shitty happens, you scrape by, and, as a victory, he gets to hug you in the end. 

"Are you sure you're okay?" Steve asks. 

"You just said I was cured, Steve," you mumble, digging your face into his shoulder. "Just. Stay here. Keep feeling me up." 

"Not what I'm doing." 

[creekfiend]

pip can i say ur cute high pitched voice alongside your Gender has made me feel better about my own high pitched voice not actually conflicting with my Gender. ty ur awesome

this is very funny because I think a lot of people on here think my voice is higher pitched than it is because they mostly hear me talking to my dogs. like it's not DEEP but I think the samples on here lean towards the Talking To Dog Voice

I have actually a pretty wide register but I don't usually use any of the deeper tones in my voice unless I'm singing or I'm REALLY fucking tired just, like, out of habit

I like to use all of them regularly though that is why I listen to music and sing along a lot. it's fun to practice making different noises

YOU'RE WELCOME FOR THE CONFIDENCE BOOST THO I'm glad it makes you feel better about ur voice 😌 🤝

[honeyhotteok]

Hi hi hi!! How are you?!?!?

Hope you're all well

Sorry even I was busy with high school😔

Just a Lil suggestion thingy for your writing ~

I was wondering how 'bout~

Reaction of Lookism & HTF characters to reader forgetting to kiss them in established relationship - like reader is an independent working person even before they met each other, and in all the hectic schedule of their work, they just forget?

It's alright if you don't want to, don't feel pressured❣️

It's just a random thought ⊂⁠(⁠(⁠・⁠▽⁠・⁠)⁠)⁠⊃

hi!! sorry this is soo late lol work beating my ass as usual🥹 i hope school's been more chill for you lately/that you get a break soon!! i included your fave then ended up picking some more non j high boys for this since my last hcs were for the j high boys😌 and i don't write for htf on here at the moment and wasn't planning to but..maybe i'll add a lil bonus at the end lol. ty for the suggestion!🫶

Lookism boys reacting to S/O forgetting their goodbye kiss before work

(Johan, Jake, Samuel)

Johan Seong

would lowkey SULK like there's no tomorrow. would not bring it up first though

but he tries to tough out it out, like the babygirl turned malewife-in-training he is

when you get home, tries to get a kiss by holding Miru up to you next to his face, pouting

but the both of them just get a head pat from you

ends up grumbling about how that's not what he wanted but whatever

leaving you confused but you quickly pick up on what he wants, having become perceptive after all these years of being with him that your boyfriend is not forthcoming with wanting affection

a blushing mess and pretends to hate it when you finally shower him with kisses

Jake Kim

notices pretty soon after you leave the house that you hadn't kissed him this morning, or yesterday either now that he thinks about it

barely pays attention during his Big Deal meetings, just sitting there furrowing his brow, trying to figure out whether he’s done something to make you mad at him

was the omelette he cooked for breakfast that bad?? he was just trying to expand his cooking repertoire beyond just instant ramen...

texts you that he'll get dinner for the both of you tonight, then buys takeaway from your favorite restaurant and also stops to get your favorite snacks before coming home

it's when you get home and trudge your tired body to him to give him a hug that he realizes it wasn't because you were mad at him after all

grins when you finally plant a big kiss on him while enjoying your fave meal after a long day of work

Samuel Seo

is unbothered, mostly. He has his own work to attend to anyway.

but as his day goes on, starts to feel unsettled but has no idea why??

this mf ends up being even more prickly than usual at work

gets home even later than you do tonight, and you nonchalantly give him a kiss before getting ready for bed

feels his ears turning red as his mood immediately improves and he finally realizes why he's felt off all day

well since you're here anyway, he'll steal another kiss from you now for tomorrow. or five

+ bonus: HTF - Taehoon Seong

this little shit would nip it in the bud real quick

catches up to you fast with his long ass legs after you rush out the door without kissing him goodbye, yelling "HEY!"

"you forgot something, dumbass" "???"

after planting a kiss on you, smirks and shoves you "hurry up now, you're gonna be late"

and you of course smack him with your bag as revenge for shoving you and smile at your boyfriend while running off as he curses at you

[obeymematches]

My friend’s been starving for Simeon content ever since I introduced them to OM! (which was yesterday) so can we get some random Simeon HCs? Ty

he been on my mind lately-

🩵 Random Simeon HCs 🩵

Domestic stuff:

I just know he is the fastest at changing the bedsheets manually, without using any spell. He got used to this, living with Luke; being in a clean environment is high on his priority list. Moreover kids tend to pee in their bed sometimes, in that period you get real fast at changing sheets and doing the laundry.

However he does like a good spell to help with domestic stuff, like doing the dishes. Though... I don't think he uses these often, only when he is seriously tired.

He prefers tea with coffeine instead of coffee. Has a very elegant, impressive teapot and likes to try various types of tea; you are always welcome to join him! Tries to have a limit on coffeine though, his self control is extraordinary regarding things like this.

Although he is not the self-care advocate of the bunch he does like having time for himself; he does like to smell nice but not too much perfume; he does like dressing well. Bet he is the cleanest guy after Asmo.

He is very knowledgeable on a very board spectrum; he likes to learn about ideas, structures, functions. He also knows a lot about stuff he doesn't really care about but had to update his knowledge because of Luke. You can ask him anything basically, the man is a walking Wikipedia.

Though! In case you find a topic he is not much familiar with, he is not too proud to admit he has absolutely zero idea about the answer. It makes him so loveable ahhhhhhh

Can't learn to drive a car to save his life though.

Dating stuff:

Listen I just know he is not as punctual as he wishes he was. I mean 15-20 mins of running late is normal when you date him. He is always apologizing because of this, but he does his best to get there ASAP.

He is the kind of guy to text you WITHIN 3 hours after your first date, whether or not he enjoyed it; he is going to tell you why he doesn't think you are going to work out if he believes so and you can't change his mind if he didn't enjoy the time spent together. On the other hand if he did like you he is also going to let you know; he starts flirting even more, gets more bold but doesn't cross any boundary!

He could get so obsessed over you; talks nicely about you to everyone, thinks of topics he would like to discuss with you..... imagine him sitting at the window, daydreaming of you as he plans your next activity together, his mug letting off steam, his hand holding his head. He already had peace; it is dull without you though.

Also imagine a dim lit room, you laying under the bedcover, him joining you with an adorable smile and a book in his hand. 🥹 He is there to read next to you when all is calm and it's just you.

Another scenario to think about is going on roadtrips with him and Luke! You must be the driver though.

Alsooo I think he would appreciate funky gifts??? Like buy him that strange shaped mug! Get him socks with ducks on it!! There are those mittens that are shaped as crab "hands".... yeah he would have a good laugh, appreciate it and use them. 😌

[redhood414]

Okay so I know that I already asked it I’m going to ask if maybe we can turn this into a possible part 2 or something? maybe like a one shot or something where Damian and yn are trying to introduce their pets to each like Titus and yns pet meeting for the first time since their relationship is becoming more serious but the thing is yns dog is like my pet poodle, dottie, that is more calm, quiet, sweet, and gives everyone a warm and welcoming energy when meeting her, and thinks Titus is scary but then Titus does something sweet like giving yns dog a bone, a Ty of his he likes, or even saving them surprising Damian from the sweet gesture since Titus isn’t usually friendly to other dogs and yn loves Titus even more now and it ends with both dogs becoming friends and yn and Damian more in love then ever

A/n:Loved that idea! This is so cute. Sorry this is short, it's rushed but I had motivation and wanted to write this out😌✨

Meeting the pets. (P.2)

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

After you got to meet the pets of Damian, which were lovely and you adored all of them. Damian loved you even more seeing the interaction between the animals and you, not to speak of the way they immediately took a liking to you. All of them.

Later on the week you suggested that Ace should meet your little poodle, Olive. Damian replied that he didn't think it was a good idea, after all Ace was a guard dog and a big one too. After some pleading and saying it'll be good for Ace to meet another kind of dog Damian agreed. You know he can't say no to you, especially when you put those emojis where he compares them with your puppy eyes when you want something. It's a small victory for you.

The week passes quick and the day comes to meet up with each other. Luckily on the day itself it was sunny. Even thought the weather often was really bad, today fate was on your luck side. Though, it was very windy. Your lover said to meet up at the public park. Big enough for the dogs to play with each other. Eventually it was 10 and exactly, like he always was, just like his father, was he there stipt. You were a few minutes later, 3, or something. On the first dates of your relationship he always complained about it. Now he'd gotten used to it and didn't say anything about it. He wore a black coat and neat shoes. A dark blue scarf around his neck. Like it was for a fancy dinner. He always wanted to show his importance, now it's just to show off to you, knowing you found him incredibly handsome, even his scars. You always adored them. Ever. Single. One. It's now a daily thing to remind him his beauty, inside and out.

He smiled as he saw you, Ace, sitting next to him on the leash. Your poodle wagged its tail excitedly and went closer to Ace, Ace sniffed Olive, curious and a bit hesitant but soon Olive made sign to play. You undid the collar and smiled, seeing Olive giving Ace a small lick on his nose. Ace sneezed and you heard a chuckle beside you, Damian seemed amused and happy. He glanced at you, smiling and pressing a kiss to your forehead as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder while watching the dogs play and whispering. "Everyday is another day where I fall even harder for you, my beloved."

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛ ♛┈⛧┈┈•༶

Let's all agreed Damian in a black coat and all fancy dressed....🌚

[mha-cuties-pls]

jealous!Dabi x reader headcannons

Pairing: Dabi x reader | words: n/a | Rating: M | genre: smut

A/N: My first take at doing new-style headcannons (I’ve never done the whole description!character thing but I’m out here tryna learn so pls don’t hesitate to give me pointers or feedback 😌)

jealous!Dabi who can’t help but mark your skin in every obvious place, making sure he’s the jealous one next time he sees your beautiful skin covered bruises and bite marks from Dabi Smirking, Dabi watched over your shoulder, in between sucking your sweet spots and jawline, to see the guy who had just tried picking you up retreat to the other side of the club; But not without a dismayed look on his face after he realized what happened, which was all the more satisfying for Dabi

jealous!Dabi grabbing you, motivated by his anger toward another guy for even having the nerve to look at you the way he did, and sticking his tongue down your throat immediately as a show of dominance

jealous!Dabi grabbing your ass from under your skirt in public, and especially during meetings with The League just to make sure they all know who you belong to

jealous!Dabi smashing your head into the pillow in front of you as he pounds into you from behind, relishing in the screams you let out each time he pumps in and out of you “That’s it, babygirl.” Dabi cooed, holding your face securely against the pillow with his hand that was basically as big as your head. Your muffled cries and screams increased with each thrust as you could feel him going harder, faster, and deeper each time. “Take Daddy’s cock like the good little cumslut you are.”

jealous!Dabi tying your wrists with rope to the headboard upon finding you masturbating one night when he came home early from a mission “Such a little whore you couldn’t wait for me to get home so you had to be a bad little girl and start without me?” A ferocious look burned behind his bright eyes as he stared down at you like you were prey. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, ____.” He shook his head, ripping your shirt open down the middle aggressively and putting his face so close to yours, your noses touch. “You know what happens to bad girls, ____.” Then, he slid a piece of duct tape over your mouth, and the anticipation for what was to come sent you reeling, eyes wide as you stared back at him helplessly. “They get punished.”

jealous!Dabi catching you steal a fleeting glance of another guy, instantly dragging you somewhere that was secluded (but not exactly private) and fucking you mercilessly “Scream louder for me, babygirl.” He breathed into your ear, hand closing even tighter around your neck as he held you against the brick wall of the nearest alley. “I want him to hear you if he’s still around.”

jealous!Dabi who finally lets his facade crack just a bit, when he finally opens up to you after you’re laying on the floor, out of breath, and covered in his spit and cum After he pulled out, you continued to lay where you were, your mind playing a delicious recap of what just went down while your body regained strength after being used and fucked so hard. Dabi, though, obviously not quite finished, hunched over you, and grabbed your face. “You know I can’t stand to see other guys looking at you like that.” As he stared down at you, you could see the adoration in his eyes. “Especially when I know what they’re thinking about doing to my little whore.”

jealous!Dabi who throws you onto your back as soon as you two are alone, spreading your legs and crawling between them with a hungry look in his eyes “Such a pretty pussy you have baby.” He coos before licking an agonizingly slow stripe down your slick folds. Your cheeks burn bright red at his exclamation, and you sheepishly began to close your knees in embarrassment from being so exposed. Dabi was quick to stop you, however, and placed his hands on each of your knees, pushing your legs wide open for him once more. “Dont even think about hiding, baby. This is my pussy and I’ll eat it all I want.”

[mikumana]

pls share your thoughts about narusasu smut dynamics PLEASE

Also thanks for “sasuke is not top” , you are so real😌

NARUSASU SMUT DYNAMICS!!!! 18+ !!

OH BOY!!!! LET ME THROW DOWN SOME QUICK NARUTO X SASUKE SMUT HEADCANONS!!! :3 just gonna write down whatever my brain thinks of rn :

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

❥ The closest Sasuke may come to top except for topping once in a while would be the occasional power bottoming, liking having power over Naruto.

❥ Although, I think even if Sasuke power bottomed he would just end up flat-out bottoming for Naruto by the end of things.

❥ Sasuke loves spanking & bondage, but Naruto can sometimes be timid at the start of things wanting Sasuke to feel comfortable. -- Big rope bunny !! :3

❥ Naruto is very into tying Sasuke up, though. Especially with all the money he has as Hokage later on, Sasuke is always tied up as delicately and beautifully as Naruto sees fit; frequently edging him while he's tied up and making him whine.

❥ Since his skin is so pale, I think Sasuke's cheeks turn very red when intimate. (Just like a tomato.) His reactions would be very obvious, never able to hide his true feelings from Naruto.

❥ Naruto loves it when Sasuke pins him to the floor, knowing how helpless he feels but how powerful he really is over Sasuke in the situation.

HERE ARE SOME I THOUGHT OF RANDOMLY JUST NOW!!! PSPSPS NARUSASU SHIPPERS COME HERE AND GIVE ME DETAILED FIC REQUESTS OHH YOU WANT TO SEND ME THEM SO BAD AND SEND ME YOUR HCS TOO!!!

[covetyou]

ty @perotovar for the tag you cutie pie. I love silly little questions (I'm procrastinating making dinner and writing, so I'd love anything more than those things rn tbh)

me yapping below, if you'd like to know silly little answers to some questions

Do you make your bed?: a vague attempt at flapping my sheets is made most days, but it's never neatly made.

Favorite number?: 7! I can't tell you why it just has always been that way. when I found out my sun sign is in my 7th house I had an "of course 😌" moment even though I don't really even know what that means but it feels right.

What's your job?: books! and data!

If you could go back to school, would you?: there was a time I seriously considered a masters so I could go more ham with using corpora to study trends in language, but I didn't. now I literally work with data and databases and analysis of that data, and books have words in them so 🤷‍♀️

Can you parallel park?: I don't know what I'm capable of (I got my full license a little over a decade ago and can legally go buy a car and drive it all by myself even though honestly I have no clue if I can even drive any more and I'd probably be a major hazard. I've never driven a car with a full license, not as a learner)

Do you think aliens are real?: with how impossibly massive the universe is? duh. as long as they stay away though pls and thank you.

Can you drive a manual car?: I am licensed to, though once again, who knows what I am capable of (this sounds like a threat and maybe it is)

What's your guilty pleasure?: no guilty pleasures here!

Tattoos?: none! I've thought of various ideas for them for years and years and never committed to anything because I am so painfully indecisive. I will probably get one soon though, it is perfect but the idea makes me devastatingly sad. (a little print of my dogs paw on the top of my right foot - she always stands on it and always leaves a little indent and I'd like to walk with her forever)

Favorite color?: pink or yellow

Do you like puzzles?: fuck yes! we have one on the go called pumpkin patch right now. I'm very tempted by a colourful mushroom one too.

Any phobias?: yes, and I'm not typing it out because that makes me feel Worse™ and feeds into my OCD in ways I do not need at any time, let alone at nighttime.

Favorite childhood sport?: I hated team sports as a kid and still do now. I played rugby for a little while when I was 15, and liked when we did tennis or hockey during PE, but outside of that sport was not for me. turns out I'm a solo exercise bitch though.

Do you talk to yourself?: I am fortunate enough to have a dog who I can direct most of my chronic yapping towards, so I look less insane and feel less compelled to talk to myself. I do do the standard "what the fuck am I doing" and the like when I enter a room and immediately forget why I went there in the first place

no clue who has done this or not but @milla-frenchy @jolapeno @strang3lov3 @beefrobeefcal

and, finally, puppy tax for getting this far

[shirefantasies]

How would the fellowship confess to their crush??? 🤭🤭 ty<3

oh hoo yes ma'am/sir/friend 😌 the pleasure is all mine! Expanding this to everyone cuz I wanna as always & incorporating some TH fanon (?) lmao

How LoTR Characters Confess to You

Aragorn

Upon your ride into battle he would hardly be parted from you, and you him, so it suited you very well to remain alongside the Three Hunters. Gimli had quickly leapt from his mount, axe blazing in what little daylight remained, and Legolas had not strayed too far behind. Aragorn had become surrounded in that time, crowds of striking enemies surrounded. With a cry, you charged through them, alerting numerous other fighters to your rapidly growing cause. All but seeing red, you fought hard, leaving none spared until your dear friend was safe again. When you dismounted, Aragorn pulled you aside under the guise of checking your wounds. "What would you have done if none joined you?" At that question, you smiled. "I had faith. But had that faith failed, I still would have rode to you." Steady though his gaze was, his hand briefly faltered before it took yours. "As would I for you, my love," he replies and you feel a tug, giving in to the sweat and adrenaline and letting him pull you into his lips.

Legolas

"What are you thinking of?" The words almost startled you, turning your head swiftly to face the woodland prince striding over, that curious look alighting his dark eyes. Heat crept to your face, for your thoughts were hardly ones you would have shared with the object of your feelings. "The future," you replied. Not entirely a lie. Legolas's brows knit. "Uncertainty? Even in these times, there is hope. For you especially, I think there is brightness ahead yet." His words bring the pensive downward tug of your face back up into joy. "Really? And why is that?" You cannot help asking, unsure what Legolas sees for you when it is so unclear for yourself. "Meleth nîn, you care so deeply for others and yet so little for yourself. All that you bring into this world is that brightness. Whether it is to others or you keep it to yourself...or even a family." A look of...questioning? Bashfulness? illuminates the elf's face. "Perhaps I have my own dreams for your future. I am sorry." At once you rose, throwing your arms around his neck. "Do not be. Perhaps our thoughts were more alike than I realized!"

Boromir

“I thought I would never see you again.” “Don’t say that,” you shake your head, peering tearfully down at Boromir. His wounds were grave, far beyond anything you thought he could have survived, and yet there he remained. Hardly had you left his side, even sleeping there with his gloved hand in yours, hoping against all hope. By the Valar’s grace did he speak to you, his voice a low rasp that had you leaning in even closer. “No, it is true. For all my thoughts of Gondor, of laying eyes upon the white towers glistening in the sun once more, I thought of you also. At what pain would it be that I never see you again. I would be a fool if I never spoke my love to you.” Tears rush again to your eyes, this time with the soar of your heart as you grip Boromir’s hand tighter, leaning down to stroke his cheek and finally press your lips to his.

Gimli

“I…got you something.” Pausing, you swivel back to face Gimli, taking a step closer and seeing the way his eyes bore into yours. “‘Tis nothing so fair as you deserve, but, well, I hope you might think to accept it.” Your brows furrow a bit as you tell him whatever it is, you’ll surely treasure his gift. Smiling bashfully, the dwarf extends a hand and produces a beautifully engraved bead. The writing is unmistakable, a short Khuzdûl inscription, and on either end lies a tiny cut of your favorite stone. “Gimli, this is beautiful,” you breathe, eyes wide and shining. “Not half so as you,” he shoots back, lashes fluttering a bit, “do you know what it is?” You smile. “Yes.” “Are you sure?” “Yes,” you repeat, leaning down to rest your forehead against his.

Frodo

So long. So long has it been since he has seen you. He has no right to you, not such as the dear hopes falling almost silently from his lips that you had waited for him. Especially having been given nothing to wait for! Yet upon return to the Shire, much as Sam’s is of Rosie Cotton, Frodo’s first thought is of you. The first night he returns to the Green Dragon with his beloved friends, celebrating adventure and pain and wonder and darkness and light beyond their wildest nightmares and dreams, Frodo’s eyes meet yours. Before he can wonder what to say you’re dropping the spoon that was in your hand and rushing over to him, falling into his arms and nestling into his embrace. “I missed you,” you say, and those three words are all it takes for something to snap in Frodo’s heart. “And I you. More than missed you, I saw you like a guiding light, a beacon in darkness. All the time I was away I loved you.”

Sam

He’ll confess nowhere but the most beautiful spot he can find, that’s for certain! Sam leads you eagerly to the Shire’s finest garden, taking your hand softly to guide you beneath an arching trellis covered in sweet pea blossom. “I knew I had to take you here,” Sam tells you, reaching down to take both of your hands. You feel a flush of heat under his sweet gaze. “Why is that?” “Well, it’s the perfect place to tell you how long I’ve loved you. Surrounded by all these beautiful flowers and yet I’ve got the best one.” “I don’t know about that,” you tell him, almost losing your composure at the way his face falls before you continue, “I think I do.” Blooming across Sam’s face is the purest look of pleasant surprise, and you can’t resist cupping his cheeks before the both of you close the gap completely.

Merry

Beautiful accident. That was the phrase you had heard so often used, and such was it. One last stand had been gathered, one final fight for Frodo, and you were rising to the occasion, though not without protest. “They want me to stay behind,” you complained to your dear friend Merry, “but my leg is mostly healed. Only illness or grievous injury could prevent me from joining everyone I love in defense of this world.” At that, the hobbit grinned. “That’s why I love you.” Stunned, you gaped at his flippant confession, watching his own jaw fall open in shocked pause. Smiling, you grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him in for a searing kiss, uncaring of the way your armor clanked together or the jolt of pain in your side with the sudden motion. The feeling of Merry’s lips against yours claimed all your head and heart.

Pippin

Confesses his feelings quite unexpectedly in Lothlórien. Long have your days been and heavenly is it to have some rest. Pippin remains there at your side as you take in the astounding city in the trees, and again when you retire for the evening, taking to your makeshift quarters. You speak there, sighing and recounting without many words all that the journey has brought you through. "More than we ever would have dared imagine has happened, even just in the past few days," you comment. "Yes," Pippin agrees, fixing you deeply with his green eyes, "but one thing has come from that." "What?" You ask. "Telling someone I love them doesn't seem so scary now." He pauses, searches the surprise on your face. "You don't- you don't have to-" His words are utterly cut off, though, by the passionate fall of your lips upon his.

Faramir

What place is more wondrous than a library? None for you, thank you. Faramir was well used to finding you there and soon joining you, poring over books from his childhood and whatever dusty tome you insisted on dragging out next, grinning at the way he chuckles. He knows it’s the very place to tell you how he feels, having found the perfect way to do it. It begins with a tale of two lovers, simple as that. He means to ask your thoughts on it but you give them freely. “This is a favorite of mine. How I long to live in such a story as this one,” you sigh at the sight of it. “And how I long to give that to you,” Faramir replied simply, hand creeping toward yours across the illuminated pages.

Eomer

Comes running to you before anything else after a battle. Panting, he stops before you, eyes wide. Concern cuts across your face at the sight of him there, sweat still upon his brow and chest heaving beneath his armor. You say his name, ask it more like a question, and he slides his helmet off, giving you a better look at his intent visage. Before you can speak further, his hands are upon your waist, pulling you into him as his lips collide with yours. Even beneath the salt of his exhaustion, you can taste him, feel the fervor until he pulls away, eyes glistening with pride. “We won!” Hand on your hip, you fix him with a look. “Will you celebrate with me, my love?”

Haldir

Retiring to the meadows was a favorite pastime of yours, taking time to yourselves beneath the gentle brush of the breeze. Pensive as ever, Haldir stares off at seemingly nothing, brows knit. Laying a hand upon his arm, you stir him from his thoughts with a look as your gazes join. His eyes search yours, you nod encouragingly. Haldir tucks the flower he’d been twirling idly between his fingers and tucks it behind your ear. “You can imagine what has been on my mind, I trust.” Attempting to lighten whatever clouds rolled across his mind, you nudge him, smiling. “Not at all! You are a mystery as always. Proceed.” “Have I not made it clear that I am in love with you?” Feeling heat surge to your face at the intensity of his words, you let yourself get swept up in emotion, smiling and tucking a strand of golden hair behind his ear. “Well, perhaps we should make it even clearer.”

Eowyn

Eowyn is so giving and caring to you, you feel as though your heart might burst. She cooks for you even if it isn’t the best, bless her. She gives you extra blankets when you’re cold, defends you against the slightest of negative words. Never leaves your side, fights for you in every sense you could state it. So of course you thank her, tell her again and again that you do not know what you’d do without her. That her gracious heart is a true gift. But one day? One day you question instead. “Why,” you ask, “do you give so much? Sometimes I feel I have so little to offer in return.” “Do you not know?” She replies in earnest, blue eyes shining. “Are you not aware I love you?” Fear colors her words. She wants to be enough, you realize. All her actions were to show you that. Caressing her cheeks, you tell her that she is all you could have wanted and more, smiling into the kiss you share.

Arwen

Memories abound as Arwen makes her feelings known. “Do you recall when my father first summoned you here?” “Yes,” you giggle, “I told him his home looks like a painting!” “He was charmed by that,” she assured you, “as was I. When I first saw you, I knew you were different. Not just as one from outside our borders, but that you brought some quite splendor.” Heart struck by her words, you try to even half-echo Arwen’s compliments. “I felt the same. There you were practically glowing as you welcomed me, beauty and strength beyond that of this world. Now that I know you, such is only multiplied, tenfold when one sees your heart.” Blue eyes swimming, Arwen embraces you, whispering her love for you in her native tongue.

Elrond

This is a private conversation. Thus Elrond leads you upon the most peaceful night of the season to a bridge beneath the stars. Twinkle as they do from their home far above your heads, the stars are the last thing to gain Elrond’s focus, his attention affixed solely upon your eyes. “You have drawn my thoughts more and more of late, meleth nîn.” “Oh?” You inquire simply, summoning a chuckle from deep in Elrond’s chest. “Indeed you have,” he lays a hand upon yours, “for to know you has been one of the greatest honors afforded to me. I care about you.” You mirror his soft smile when your name escapes his lips, gentle as a wish. “Then it is as I could only have dreamed,” you reply.

Lindir

Playing the most heart-wrenchingly gorgeous melody you’ve ever heard, Lindir watches you the entire time. Heart aflutter, you send him a smile and he looks pleased. Upon finishing, he strides over, looking with amusement at the little applause you give him. Words pour forth from you before you even realized you’ve formulated them, gushing again and again about the way his song touched you. “To know such love…what a dream,” you sigh. Lindir almost starts at that, raising his eyebrows. “Well, the song was about you, you know.”

[tonycries]

....I feel as though I should tell you I'm alive and well...

All those silly JJK men and how DOMESTIC they would be, like imagine how if we know how to give them Pussaygrip3000 (I felt weird typing that) and all the silly little things they would do for us.

And Do you know what I've been thinking of?

Like opening doors, cooking, cleaning, helping us put our shoes on, so on and so forth.

Anyways

As always, keep writing, keep sparkling, and I adore you.

Talk soon

Kisses

-🐇

BUNNY ANON HOW ARE YOUUUU 😩 I've missed you sweetheart, hope your weeks have been lovely <33

And OUUU YES hahah the ehem Pussaygrip3000 being so good that you have them gone and whipped. He's practically a kept man - wrapped around your little finger 😌

All tying your shoes, putting his palm over sharp corners so you don't bump into them, holding your purse - he'd do anything and everything. UGH 😔 you have me in a sappy mood 😔

Ahh thank youuu, lob you n' hope you're doing well 😵‍💫

[caustinen]

omfg love love loving the new additions to the hollywood au!! i love how it just keeps growing and getting better with every new thing you say about them 🖤🤍 (the b&w hearts are reserved for the clegan hollywood au now)

just have to say the way they’re actually so in character and so madly in love already even before the first time they say i love you (that drabble gave me sm life btw thank you :)) ) is so insane AHH and the hcs are out of this world amazing too THANK YOU

and YES YES YES can totally see the potential for a singer john & songwriter gale already. imagine buck writing all these songs with bucky as his muse but bucky thinks buck’s writing all this with someone else in mind (he thinks there’s no way anyone would be able to write such beautiful lyrics unless they really are in love) because every time he asks gale about it he manages to avoid the question/change the topic (& blushes slightly) and john just gets jealous/upset. cue all the intense pining & miscommunication because these two are oblivious idiots in love but obviously they get together in the most dramatic way possible & become even more insufferable to everyone around them. everyone around thinks that it’ll get better once they stop hopelessly pining for each other and once they get together but it’s somehow even worse cause now they go from oblivious idiots in love to obvious idiots in love (but everyone’s obviously so so happy for them and there are definitely bets placed about the two of them getting together)

and also YES YES would love to see more ig posts, but definitely no pressure though <33

im soso sorry this got super rambly but i had to get it out and you are literally my favourite person on this app right now so sending you loads and loads of love and hope you have a lovely day 🩵🩵🩵

oh you’re my favorite person on this app too this really made my day 😭🤍🖤 (<- and yes for these being officially their hearts now 🥰)

THAT SINGER-SONGWRITER AU 🧎‍♀️ that would be so amazing, the potential of delicious miscommunication & pining is making me shiver because i could also see how bucky would then sing the songs so emotionally, so filled with feeling that gale would also be like goddamnit he must be in love with someone and it would be this endless cycle until it gets absolutely ridiculous 😭 like gale could hand bucky a song literally called ”in love with my best friend (but he doesn’t get it)” and bucky would be like sigh if only you understood your own work 😪 and then when they get together the music they’d write together would be so cheesy, so sweet, so disgustingly romantic that even the label is like… maybe it was better when we were just releasing a million sad singles about pining? but also they’re like absolute bangers and bucky would fit the confident lover boy era just as well as the sad pining boi era 😌 and gale would write the masterpiece of his life with john as his muse, like the kind of love anthem that would stand time and become a classic that everyone knows 🥹

also wanted to say that i reallt appreciate you saying these have been in charachter, that’s always my biggest stress!! so ty and hope you’ve had the best day 💘