#what's that object around scissors you ask

[regularponyfan]

I made this for Carlos Alazraqui's birthday today:

[bruisedboys]

bob reynolds x thunderbolt!reader (post thunderbolts, minor spoilers!)

“Are you sure you want me to do this?”

You’re standing over Bob with a pair of scissors in your hand, the other poised on your hip.

He nods. “Yeah. It’s getting too long, isn’t it?”

You frown. Reaching out with your free hand, you run your fingers through his hair like you’re already mourning it. “But … it’s so nice. I don’t want to ruin it.”

Bob shakes his head. He’s feeling rather lovesick, and he’s not sure if he’s asked you to cut his hair because he actually needs it, or because he just wants you touching him. Either way, he’s not backing down.

“You won’t, baby,” he says. “It’s only a trim. An inch or less.”

“I know, but— what if I cut off too much?”

Bob honestly wouldn’t care if you cut it all off. Well, maybe he would, ‘cos then you wouldn’t have anything to tug on when you’re kissing him. What he’s trying to say is he doesn’t care what you do to his hair — you’re perfect and so is anything you do.

“You won’t,” he repeats firmly.

You hesitate, biting your lip. “You sure you don’t want me to just take you to the salon?”

Bob never wants to step foot in a salon ever again. The last time he saw a hairdresser was when Valentina convinced him it was a good idea to go blonde, and he walked away with the dumbest corn-coloured hair he’d ever seen. It was never going to suit him and he knew it sitting in that hairdresser’s chair, but he couldn’t say no. He’s just lucky he didn’t have to dye it all out in the end.

Bob shakes his head. “No, I want you to do it,” he says. Then, because you still don’t look convinced, “Please?”

Something about the way he’s looking at you must unravel you, because you cave.

“Okay, fine,” you sigh. You move around the back of his chair and start running your fingers carefully through his too-long hair. Looking over his head, you meet his eyes in the mirror. “But don’t blame me if it’s awful.”

Bob would roll his eyes if he wasn’t so in love with you. “It won’t be,” he says patiently instead, smiling at you.

You make a face at him but get to work with no further objection. Bob sits contentedly and lets you separate his hair into smaller chunks. He watches you in the mirror and wonders if you know you pretty you look. He feels infinitely lucky to have you, especially when he’s got people like Yelena and Bucky to compete with. But you’ve chosen him.

He doesn’t even flinch when you pull out the scissors and start chopping. The soft shink of the blade cutting through his hair fills the quiet air, chunks of chestnut brown falling around his feet.

“I hope I’m doing this right,” you mumble to yourself.

“You’re doing great, honey,” Bob tells you, though he can’t really tell at all. For all he knows you could be giving him a mullet, but he doesn’t care.

He’s too busy enjoying the feeling of your hands in his hair, and then your hand on his shoulder when you hold it to steady yourself. He especially likes it when it’s time to cut the front of his hair, and you move to stand by his knees.

You nudge his knee with yours. “Spread your legs?” You ask softly.

Bob’s face goes hot but thankfully, you’re too focused on the task at hand to notice. He spreads his knees so there’s space for you in between them. You move forward and Bob can’t resist sliding his hands over your hips under the pretense of holding you steady.

“Thank you,” you say.

After that Bob has a hard time concentrating on anything but you. You’re so close he can smell your perfume, sweet enough to make him lightheaded. You’re achingly careful as you trim the hair at the front of his head, tiptoeing to get a better angle. Bob holds you steady, hands warm on your hips and thighs.

By the time you step back, he doesn’t want to let you go. His hands linger but you don’t seem to mind.

“I think I’m all done,” you say, more to yourself than him.

You lean closer, eyes studying his hair as you run your hand through the locks at the front, and Bob can’t help studying you in turn — your lips, your nose, your pretty eyes. Your closeness leaves him dizzy, worse when, oblivious to Bob’s inability to function, you get your hand under his chin and tilt him up towards you.

“Lemme see, babe,” you turn his head to the left, then to the right, studying your handiwork. You turn him back to face you and hum, satisfied. “It looks good, I think. You wanna see?”

Bob nods, putty in your hands. You move out of the way, taking your warmth and sweet scent with you, and Bob’s able to see his reflection in the mirror. His hair looks, in his opinion, perfectly fine. It’s not terrible, like you thought it would be, and it’s nothing spectacular, but that’s not what he wanted anyway. He looks like himself again.

“It’s perfect,” he tells you. He turns his head this way and that, runs a hand through the shortened ends of it. “I love it, you did so good.”

You smile shyly. It’s a cute look on you. “Really?” You ask, shoulders creeping towards your ears.

Bob nods and gets up, unable to stay away from you much longer. He meets you by the sink, where he gets his hands on your hips again.

“Mm-hm,” he nods earnestly, thumbs now rubbing circles into your waistband.

You beam up at him, warm from his touching. You reach up and stroke a hand through his new hair.

“You look handsome,” you compliment sweetly.

Bob’s heart hammers. He hasn’t gotten used to your compliments and doesn’t think he ever will. Rather than try to say something back and most likely stumble over his words, he shuts his eyes and kisses you.

You kiss him back like you were waiting for it.

[seospicybin]

THE FUCKBOY NEXT DOOR.

PART II

Bangchan x reader. (s)

Chapters: Part I / Part III / Final.

Synopsis: To help you moving on from your break-up, Chan takes you out for a night. However, he doesn't expect you will find a potential new love in someone else. (9,5k words)

Author's note: Here's one you've been asking for. Please tell me what you think about it! Nevertheless, enjoy x

"I think we're done for the day, huh?" You sigh in relief after dumping the dirty towels into the laundry bag and tossing it to the back room.

"No, actually, someone just walked in and wanted a haircut," your co-worker says while holding a stack of clean towels in front of her.

"Keem can have it," you resolve, you've finished all of your appointments for the day, and you're tired and ready to go home.

"Yeah, that's the problem. He specifically asked for you," your co-worker answers, putting the towels into the shelf full of them.

You plant your hands on each side of your waist and shoot a puzzled look at your coworker, "Huh?"

Is this customer aware that the salon is about to close and there's another hairstylist on duty? That exciting feeling of getting home soon is slowly fading as you head in to meet this customer who specifically asks for you.

The second you walk in, Keem, the other stylist, grabs your elbow and then leans into your side to whisper, "He's so cute."

Hearing it doesn't lift your mood at all, you just want to get it over with and go home.

"Where?" You ask as you put on your apron.

"He's right there," she whispers, pointing to the middle seat hidden behind the big mirror then detaches herself off you to go back behind the counter.

For a customer who chooses an awful time to get a haircut, you put on a phony smile and shove your hands into the pockets of your apron as you greet.

"Hi, what can I do for... You!" The infliction in your voice changes as you see who that customer is.

It's the shit-eating grin, the stupid dimples on his stupid face and

"It's enough torture to have you as my neighbor and now I have to you see at work too," you say as you cross your arms together in front of you.

"Oh, wow, is this how you treat your customer?" He says with a fake concerned look.

"Only the select few," you say with a sinister smile.

"I made it on your list of honors? Is this because we had sex—"

You hurriedly cover his mouth with your hand and make sure no one is seeing what you're doing to him, or worse, letting them acquire that piece of information.

"What do you want?" You scold him with a piercing glare.

He takes your hand off of his mouth and dramatically gasps for air, "I want a haircut," he simply answers.

With a huff, you swivel his chair to face the mirror and grab the cape for him, putting it around his neck, then clip it together. You put on a phony smile as you look at him through the reflection in the mirror.

"So, what do you want me to do with your hair besides setting it on fire?" You sarcastically ask him.

It's amazing how his grin doesn't wear off even just for a second, "We don't need to cut much, I guess just the tip," he says.

"Just the tip," you repeat, "Is that the title of your sex tape?"

Chan cracks a sonorous laugh, "That's a good one!"

Once you hear the sound of the scissors snipping away the hair, you get in the zone. You focus on giving his hair a nice shape that accentuates his strong jawline and makes his facial features more prominent.

"Don't talk much, huh?" He asks, slightly turning his head to the side.

You grab the nape of his neck and forcefully turn his head back to the front, "just here trying my best not to snip you somewhere else," you calmly mutter.

"Ooh, chills!" He responds with a shudder.

You switch your scissors with a hair clipper and it starts buzzing as you turn it on, you're holding it in his hand as you look at him and say, "You're going to regret coming here and allowing me to be this close to you with a sharp object."

Seeing you bringing the hair clipper close to his face, he reflexively closes his eyes so tightly and you hold the urge to not laugh at it.

"Oh, okay, I regret it now," he says like a frightened child left alone by his parents.

You gently place your hand on his jaw, "Stay still," you warn him.

He obeys you, keeping his head still and his eyes closed as you're carefully trimming his sideburns. You suddenly find yourself admiring his face and his beautiful features of a long, big nose and voluptuous lips.

For a split second, you so badly want to run your thumb on his lips and feel how soft they are. You did feel it once with your lips but you were too sad to notice and now you realize how much you regret it.

Before the temptation returns, you turn off the trimmer and put it away, then proceed to help brush the hair on his face and around his neck with a soft brush.

"You're all done," you announce, taking the cape from around his neck.

Chan stays on his seat as you brush the excess hair off the nape of his neck and make sure they don't stick to his skin. You put all of your equipment on the cart next to you and anticipate his reaction to your haircut.

Not trying to brag here but you did a good job here because he looks even more attractive with a fresh cut.

"Aren't you going to tell me how handsome I am and then kiss me on the cheek?" He asks while blinking his big eyes at you.

"I'm not your mom," you reply with a plain smile.

When you think you already got rid of him after giving him a haircut, you see him lounging around the counter and putting on his charms for Keem. You plan on keeping it a secret that you know each other but if he starts flirting with your co-worker, then there's a possibility you'll see her walking out of his apartment the next day and it only gets messy from there. You come up to him and tug at the sleeve of his jacket, then pull him to the side.

"Why are you still here?" You ask through your gritted teeth and keeping your volume low.

"I'm waiting for you."

"Why?"

"Because we're going out tonight," he answers.

"We?"

"And no, my panties are not in a twist," he says with a teeth-baring grin, "You can check it yourself if you want."

"Ugh. No!" You groan in refusal.

What is it about him anyway that makes the girls go crazy for him? If you're thinking with your depraved, brutal, and cavewoman brain, it must be the body that is inexplicably electric and sexually charged, braced with heavy muscles, and injected with a high dose of testosterone. In other words, he's hot, and it's hard not to be biologically attracted to him. But if you're thinking progressively and in the 21st century way, you know you should avoid this fuckboy at all costs.

"If you don't want to go then I'll just take Keem," he says, secretly threatening not only you but also your workplace dynamic.

"I'm sure she's keem for it," he makes a pun.

"Ugh. Okay," you groan in agreement this time.

And then, there's something called human error.

-

At first, Chan thought that you have that stoic expression only whenever you're around him but he was wrong. He learns that it's just your default expression and you wear it like a defense mechanism to keep the predators at bay. At least, he shouldn't worry about leaving you alone in the bar as he's working the DJ booth.

Once he's done with his set, he ignores the calls for his name and walks up to you, seeing you rather unimpressed by what he just did. What did he expect though? You're not most girls.

He taps the table, signaling the bartender to come and tend to his order, "The usual, please?"

The bartender nods and is about to turn away to make his drink when he calls for him again, "And one more for this nice lady," he adds, gesturing at you and flashing you a sly smile.

Chan turns around to face the dance floor and leans his back against the counter, "So, what do you think?"

"It was good," you answer after sipping your drink.

"You have a filthy expression on your face," he teases you and gently elbows your side, "go on, tell me what you're really thinking."

"Strangling you with my bare hands," you answer without a beat.

Chan leans in close enough that he can get a whiff of the smell of your shampoo, "so that's your kink?"

"Only when I see fear in your eyes," you answer with a wicked smile.

"Wow. You know how to excite a guy," he praises, not entirely lying about it because he gets a little excited from your snarky comments.

The bartender comes with both of your drinks and you hurriedly finish your previous one to go ahead with the next. He watches as you take a small sip and then waits to see how your nose scrunched at the bitter aftertaste.

"You're single now and maybe it's time for you to get out there, you know, find a new love," he says, secretly hoping that you'll find it in him when he looks at you.

"Hey, Chris," a girl comes and without hesitating, placing a kiss on his cheek, "Great set!"

"Thanks, Alicia," he says to the tall lady with beautiful braided hair.

"This one is on me," she says as she gives him a drink from the ones she ordered.

"Cheers then!" He says, clinking his glass with hers with his charming smile on.

The lady leaves to take the drinks away and is soon engulfed by the crowd. Chan notices that you remain calm about that interaction, and again, what did he expect?

"At least, one of us has no problems getting some tonight," you take a jab at him.

"I'm taking you out so we can have fun tonight and enjoy yourself—"

"The only way I can enjoy myself is when I'm alone."

"Oh?" He gasps and gives you a wild glare.

You roll your eyes and sigh once you realize he's taking it the wrong way, "I just want to go home and binge my favorite show and sleep," you finish your sentence with a big gulp of drink and he gets to see another nose scrunch from you.

The intention was to take you out of the apartment and perhaps, he can get you to loosen up a little bit, making this getting to know each other thing a little easier for him. It seems like he's forcing it on you and maybe it wasn't a good idea after all.

"Okay, then, we'll go home after this one," he says, lifting his glass close to his mouth.

"Or you can just stay here and do your thing, and I'm going home," you suggest a better idea after finishing your drink and you grab your bag as if you just can't wait to get out of here.

Chan is quick to grab your arm and stops you from leaving, "Hey, at least, let me finish my drink first," he protests.

"You don't have to leave with me. I can go home myself," you say to him.

"Just wait for me," he squeezes on your arm and adds, "Please?"

You consider it for a moment and then say, "I'll wait for you outside."

Since he's done a gig here, Chan has to make a proper exit out of the club, he greets a few people who work there and grabs his backpack of equipment, carrying it in his hand as he walks out of there. He finds you leaning against the street lamp and the light casts a glowing halo on your head, making you look like an angel... with a stoic expression.

He grins when you notice him coming, "Okay, I lied, there's another thing we have to do tonight," he says.

"Goodness, Chris, just bag a lady and call it a night," you groan in complaint.

Both of his eyebrows ratchet up at your words, "It has nothing to do with that."

"What is it then?" You cross your arms together in front of you.

"Only the best part of the night," he answers with a cryptic smile.

Chan knew he should have started the night with food. He can see that your mood gradually elevates with every bite you take from the delicious kebab he recommended to get after a boozy night out.

By the time you both arrive at the apartment building, you get all quiet like a drowsy child after a day out at the park and he finds it cute, especially with the way your lips slowly jutting out and you keep widening your eyes to stay awake.

"How about next Friday night we're doing it your way?" he suggests as he keeps the elevator door open for you with his back.

"If that means you'll leave me alone then yes," your eyes turn small as you politely moan into your hand.

"We're going to stay in and binge-watch your favorite show and sleep," he lists everything you mentioned earlier and an idea pops into his head.

"We'll have a pajama party!" He announces along with a poor imitation of tooting horns.

"No!" You flatly reject the idea.

"I'll bring the snacks," he offers.

You steadfastly shake your head.

"Then I'll keep knocking on your door until you let me in," he annoyingly moves into your side until he's rubbing elbows with yours.

"Then I hope you get abducted by aliens," you come out with an absurd wish and it cackles him.

"You would miss me," he confidently remarks with his signature grin.

"Doubtful. Very doubtful."

"Why?"

"I know I'd get to see you again someday—"

Chan can't help himself from smiling but little does he know, you're not done with your sentence yet.

"— in hell."

That wipes the smile off his face, "but I'm a good person. People like me," he says while making an innocent face.

"Because they don't know you, if they did, someone would have kicked your ass already."

"They'd try," Chan easily says with a nonchalant shrug, and at the same time, you both burst out laughing.

This is not flirting and he's aware there's something wrong with this interaction but you know what? He likes every bit of it.

Chan's heart sinks when it's time for the two of you to part ways and before you get to slip away from him, he tugs at the strap of your bag.

"Hey, can't wait for our pajama party," he says.

You pull your bag until the strap slips out of his hand and head to your apartment door.

"No response," he points out, "it's as a yes then."

"No!" You shout.

"So... it's a no?" He asks in confusion.

You push the door to get inside your apartment and lingers by the doorway, facing him.

"No," you cheekily respond and then close the door, leaving him with a different kind of thrill for what comes next.

-

From the way this person treats your door like a tambourine, you can safely guess that it's Chan knocking on the door for the so-called pajama party.

Ugh, why did you agree to it in the first place? It's so unlike you to let someone in on your space but it doesn't matter whether you let him or not, the boundaries have been crossed so many times that there's no such thing as personal space anymore.

Before letting him in, you check through the peephole, and just as you expected, he comes undressed, literally. He's standing on the other side of the door wearing nothing but gray sweatpants hanging low around his hips.

"Please have mercy on my eyes and put some clothes on!" You shout through the door with your hand holding the knob.

"I don't wear pajamas. This is what I wear to sleep," he responds and you can hear him faintly laughing with your ear pressed on the door.

"And what makes you think you're going to sleep at my place tonight?"

"I don't know. A hunch," he playfully responds.

"Pajama party is officially canceled!" You say through the peephole.

"Okay, okay, I'll put some clothes on," he sighs in defeat.

You watch through the peephole to see if he's really going to his apartment to change. With his broad shoulders, all hunched up, he walks back to his apartment and doesn't even bother to close the door, he grabs whatever lying close to him and puts the dark t-shirt over his head. Even under the poor lighting, the ridges of his muscles are visible and inviting you to feel it with your touch.

As though he knows he's being watched, he looks your way and then trudges his way back to your door. The first thing you see after you open the door for him is his big grin that sends his dimples sinking deep into his cheeks.

With a glare at his empty hands, you ask, "And where's the snack?"

Chan puts his arms on each side of the doorframe and leans in close, towering you with his big figure, proudly he answers, "Ma'am, I am the snack."

Can't tell if he's trying to charm you, intimidate you, or both, doesn't matter because he failed at all of them.

"But you promised!" You can tolerate people when they make jokes about anything but you can't accept when it involves food.

Chan takes his phone out of his pocket and shows it to you, "It's being delivered. See?"

Your jaws unclenched in a second and you open the door wider for him, "You may come in!" You sweetly say with a curtsy.

"Thank you, Your Majesty!" He says with a bow before steps into your apartment.

It's ironic how you prepared everything despite you were grudging it, you set the sofa, put some cushions and since he said he was bringing the food, you bought drinks for tonight.

"I have juice, soda, and beers," you list everything you have in your fridge as you're looking at it.

"We'll have the soda for now and beers for later," Chan strategically plans.

The food he ordered only lasts for two episodes and from there, you both run on beers and chips while sitting on opposite sides of each other on the couch with your feet touching.

"I like seeing white stockings on women," Chan comments after seeing the female character wearing it under her dress.

"This is why I hate watching with a man," you say in a condescending tone.

"I'm not even saying anything about her body," he defends himself and playfully rubs his foot with yours.

"Just shh..." you hush him, getting back at him by tackling his foot with yours.

The whole time the TV show is playing, your attention is on him, you're merely curious if he's genuinely invested in it or just wants to annoy you with his presence. From your observation, it seems like it's the former but the jury's still out.

"Wait, is that it?" He asks as the first season has just ended and the credit title rolls down the screen.

"That's the end of the first season," you say, starting to gather the trash on the table and put it into a plastic bag.

"But there's another season, right?" He says, looking distressed that the show ends with a cliffhanger.

"Yeah," you answer.

"Then let's watch it!" He says with a grin and slowly blinking his eyes at you.

"No, Chris, it's late," you show him the time on the screen on your phone that it's close to midnight.

"But I want to know what happens next and I need to know now," he speaks like a spoiled little brat.

You get up from the sofa to get rid of the trash, "You can watch it on your own."

Grabbing the back of your sweater, Chan pulls you hard until you plop down onto the sofa next to you then he puts his arm around you to keep you down.

"Let's just party all night, eh?" He persuades you as he leans in close to the side of your head you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek.

You leer to the side at him and ask, "I can't make you leave, do I?"

"Not a chance," he shortly answers.

Seeing that there's no other way to make him leave but to fulfill his wish, you give in and sit back down on the sofa as Chan hits the play button.

With your stomach full and the exhaustion from the day, and you feel snug on the sofa wrapped in your blanket, you're getting drowsy as the night gets late. You manage to stay awake for two episodes but not long after that, your eyes get really heavy and you can barely keep them open anymore.

Going to rest my eyes for a bit, you tell yourself in your head but close your eyes, slowly drifting into deep slumber.

-

It's not new that Chan wakes up not knowing where he is, he lifts his head and looks around, taking in his surroundings to give him clues of his whereabouts. One look at the TV screen that shows a question whether he's still watching or not, he immediately recalls where he is, what he's doing here, and—

"Owh!" He lowly gasps as you accidentally elbow him on the ribs.

There he is, lying next to you on the sofa, your back pressed close to his chest he can feel every rise and fall of your body as you're breathing. He doesn't know how it comes to this and he's not complaining though, if anything, it's an opportunity for him to admire you up close.

Cautiously, he removes the hair covering your face to the side and takes an intimate look at your facial features, first at your eyes with your eyelashes fanning out so beautifully, he runs his fingertip down your nose and eventually at your lips which he dreams of kissing.

Do you know that you're so beautiful yet so unaware of it?

Chan gently buries his nose in your neck and inhales your heavenly scent that gets him intoxicated, putting himself in a test of restraint that he'll be likely to fail. All of a sudden, you stir in your sleep and nuzzle closer as if you're seeking warmth from his body heat.

What did he just put himself into? He frustratingly asks in his head.

Soon enough, he can feel your body start to mold against him and it feels nice, you're fulfilling his need for this closeness but unfortunately, he can't control how his body is reacting to this as it wants to do more than just being pressed close to yours.

Chan carefully places his hand on your hips and quietly, he tries to push you away to make a safe space between your bodies even though he has to suffer the loss of your warmth against him.

As if your body knows what he's trying to do, you push back even further and the curve of your ass sits right on the bulge growing inside his sweatpants, putting him at a greater risk.

"Fuck!" he mouthes in distress.

If it wasn't for the TV light that casts a hazy glow on you, he wouldn't notice that your eyes are open and you're waking up to him with his hand on your hips which he's afraid only giving you the impression that he tries to pull you close instead of the opposite.

"I��" he can't say anything without sounding like he's lying because he knows that a greater part of him wanted it, wanting you.

In the next moment, he finds your hand reaching for him and unexpectedly, you put your fingers across his lips, asking him to stop talking as you bring his head close until your lips touch. He doesn't dare to do anything but when you stroke his lower lip with your tongue, his instincts take over.

To no one's surprise, Chan claims your mouth like a starved man.

However, Chan doesn't plunge right into it, he's starting the kiss with innocent brushes of his lips on yours and teasing licks before taking your mouth once again in a deeper kiss.

When he draws back, your lips are parted on soundless gasps of desire. It takes a moment for your eyes to clear enough to focus on him and with a low voice, he says, "I couldn't resist it."

He can't waste a second without kissing you so he indulges in another dizzying kiss, "I thought about kissing you all week."

Days, weeks, months, it comes to a blur to him but he learned the agony of waiting so he counts the time until his lips can reunite with yours again, hopefully, once and for all.

"Now, I can't seem to stop," As he speaks, he threads his fingers into your hair and angles your head back. He trails kisses along your jawline, nips your chin, and kisses the corner of your mouth.

A murmur humming in your throat as he kisses you yet again and your hand flies into his hair, fingertips lazily scratching at his scalp. You suddenly pull away from the kiss and gaze into his dark eyes, "Then don't stop."

So Chan hasn't been the only one, after all.

Planting his mouth on yours again, he twines his tongue with yours, and oh... this taste, this softness, your hand in his hair, kiss after kiss after kiss.

He allows himself to run his fingertips down the length of your arm and smiles when goosebumps ripple outward. Nuzzling your neck, he breathes in the soft scent of your skin and kisses the sweet spot just behind your jaw. Your lips are calling him, but instead, he sucks on your earlobe and bites it, startling a shaky sigh from you.

He allows himself to explore more by running his hand along the length of your body, cupping the curve of your breasts, and even through the layers of fabrics, he can feel the firm buds of your nipple. He so badly wants to pinch it, love on it, but there is too much fabric in the way. He simply resolves it by slipping his hand under and he finds your soft mounds in a second, not wasting another second to fondle on it.

As he kisses you harder, and you arch into his body, you're undulating your hips against the aching bulge inside its confine, forcing him to bite back his groan.

Oh, he hasn’t wanted someone like this in... Has he ever wanted someone like this?

He reels himself back to the present, glancing down at his pale hand and your nipple caught between his fingers, it's an erotic sight indeed that he can't resist pinching it and enjoying your sharp intake of breath.

"Chris..."

The sound of his name falling from your lips is just as unexpected as it is hot. He sees you breathe through your parted lips that's swollen and glistening wet from all the kissing, and then at your wide, lustful eyes that tell him you're ready for more.

An impatient hand glides down your stomach and slips beneath the waistband of your shorts, his gentle fingers caress you with slow strokes. He is touching you there, right where you need him and you shiver, then burrow closer to him as more goosebumps dotted your skin.

"My God, you're drenched," he says and with each syllable, his lips grazed your ear.

Your body clenched hard, clenched even harder when he presses a finger deep into you, filling you. He massages your clit with lazy swirls of his thumb, making you start trembling against him.

He lowers a kiss on you again, tongue and teeth invading your mouth and that's all it takes to send you climbing quick and sharp toward your release.

His mouth finds your ear and with his hot breath tickles you, he lowly asks, "Does it feel good?”

There's no answer but you sink your teeth into your bottom lip as you throw your head back, inhaling sharply. Chan can feel tiny muscles fluttering around his fingers, and he knows you are close.

He doesn't need to see to know the answer, he can feel it with his hand, "You’re drenching my palm," he whispers again.

With your hand in his hair, you bring his head close and peck his lips, "Chris, I want it," you mutter as you pull away.

"It?" He asks to confirm if you're thinking of the same thing and he's not taking the wrong sign.

You lightly nod, "Mmh-hmm."

"Condom?"

"No need," you shortly answer, "I'm on the pill."

A jolt of excitement surges all over his body just from the thought that he'll be inside you with no layer of protection and it utterly exhilarates him that he needs to calm down for a minute. He uses the time to remove your shorts and then his sweatpants next without taking his other arm from around you.

Once he settles himself behind you, he puts his hand between your legs, lifting a leg and putting it over his hips, allowing his hard member to get between your legs. It feels a whole lot different to feel how wet you are on every inch of his length.

"Feel that?" He asks you with his mouth nestled close to your ear and his swollen cock rubbing between your folds, "I'm aching for you."

Chan kisses your mouth, your jaw, your neck as hard flesh prodding at your sex, making you stop breathing for a moment and you feel nothing but a sensuous stretching that goes on and on until he seated himself fully inside you and oh, he fits perfectly.

"It's too good. You feel– oh... I'm going to lose it," he can't comprehend what he's feeling right now.

The heat, this tightness, so perfect for him and his body asks for nothing but more and more and more of you.

Responding to his body's needs, he withdraws and then thrusts back into you, soon enough, he sets a steady pace. His free hand slides down to your bundle of nerves, touching you there for added stimulation. You grip his wrist, seemingly intending to pull him away, but your hand refuses to cooperate.

The twin assaults of his fingers and his cock that fills you full kindle a flame inside you that spread all over you like wildfire. Your mouth is parted open but all that comes out are gasps and sighs of pleasure so instead of words, you communicate how you feel through your body. You spread your thighs wider and writhe to match his thrust for thrust.

There's nothing but the sounds of his hips slapping your ass and his cock that incessantly slipping in and out of you, and he likes how he finds peace despite his body being in pure chaos.

With his mouth lingering close to your ear, he knows you hear every shudder of his breath to the lowest of his sultry moans slipped out of his mouth, and honestly, he would have been embarrassed if it weren’t for your hand tangled in his curls and keep pulling him for a kiss, before finding his hand that rests on your chest and hold it.

"Perfect..." the word tumbles out of his mouth as your fingers slip right between the spaces of his fingers and lace it together.

"Ah, ah, ah," more moans fall out of your lips as you arch into him, and through it all, your eyes locked in a gaze with his, letting him see the pure pleasure that builds up inside you.

Chan has slept with a handful of people, but he’s never been so in tune with someone's body. He’s never been so desperate to please or so elated when he hears you cry his name as you cum around him.

The high takes you over and also your ability to move, speak, and think. You curl up, making you feel smaller against him. The hand interlaced with his tightens as he speeds up the motions of his hips and with one last deep thrust, he joins you in falling apart.

Using this tender moment to pour his affection for you, he's whispering your name and kissing you softly, then slowly, he eases out of—

"No, don't!" Your hand grabs at his hips, hard, nails digging into the flesh, "Stay."

Obeying your words, Chan holds you close, limbs to limb, skin to skin, hearts lying so close to each other with mere flesh and bones in between. He doesn't know what this was, but it sure as hell was not fucking. He kisses you hard and soft to find out.

It's when he pulls away and looks into your eyes that he figures out the answer as the most incredible feeling of being loved washes over him.

-

When Chan wakes up the next morning. He registers the sunlight on his face, the distant barking of a neighborhood dog, and the delicious smell of buttered toast and coffee, it's all around him and—

It just hits him that he's waking up on your sofa and he burrows into the blanket with a happy sigh once he recalls everything that happened last night to the tiniest details, summoning the butterflies to flutter around in his stomach.

The sound of your footsteps forces him to get out of his daze and he scrambles to get up when you walk past the sofa on your way to the kitchen.

"Morning!" He cheerily greets you while covering his naked lower half with the blanket.

Without looking and with your hands tying your hair, you fainty reply to his greeting, "Morning."

You didn't reply to his level of enthusiasm but that's okay, he just doesn't expect you to be this stoic this early in the day. Instead of searching for his sweatpants, he wraps the blanket around his hips like a towel and waddles his way to the kitchen.

"You're up early," he says, noticing that it's barely seven and he knows you usually leave for work a little after eight, sometimes close to nine.

"Early appointment. Have to do a client's hair. Wedding," you concisely explain as you quietly sip your coffee from a big red mug.

It's strange, the way you speak and how your eyes are looking anywhere but in his direction. For now, he's going to think that you're just tired and not fully meeting your dose of caffeine yet

"Okay, so what's for breakfast?" He asks, excitedly tapping the dining table with his hands and grinning at you.

"Toast and coffee," you say while standing on your toes to get a glass from the top cabinet.

"Anything but coffee, please?" He politely asks, watching you walk the other way to get a carton of orange juice out of the fridge.

It's a sunny day but the room shares the same temperature as the glass of orange juice you pour into his glass. He observantly watches you, searching for any clues whether this is how you are in the morning or something is actually off with you.

There's one way to know, first, he takes a small sip of his juice to help with his dry throat and then jabs around the topic, "Last night was fun, don't you think?"

There's no answer and he can't see your reaction toward it when you're standing with your back facing him and he begins to think that it's the latter.

"I'm thinking we should do this again next Friday but I'll get to pick what we're going to watch and you bring—"

"Chris, I'm sorry but..." You swiftly turn on your feet and check the time on the clock, "I have to leave now."

"Sure, yeah, you can't be late for a wedding," he playfully says while keeps searching for your eyes to make you look at him.

You walk around your apartment to gather your things, your phone, and your wallet, stuffing them into a purse. You grab another bag which he guesses is one you usually carry for work and that only confirms that you're indeed leaving for an appointment.

"You can stay for breakfast and use the spare keys to lock the door when you leave," you say those things in a hurry as you drag your bag to the foyer.

He turns on his chair to look at you as he jokes, "We've only slept together twice and you're already giving me your apartment keys?"

Unfortunately, the jokes fall short as he hears nothing but the sound of the knob turning and you're getting out of the apartment.

"Have a great day at work!" He shouts at you but all he gets in response is the door closing and then clicks in place.

Chan can't tell anymore if you're leaving for work or you're leaving him, but it feels like he's getting his karma for always being the one leaving in the morning.

-

It's wedding season and that explains why there are a lot of scribbles on your calendar, you have a lot of appointments to do this month, and you get so busy that he's hardly seeing you lately.

Work is one thing he can understand but you can't possibly work 24 hours a day without a day off, right? At one point, he should have caught you leaving or coming home from work, whichever it is, the chance never comes to him, not even once.

Chan begins to wonder if you're avoiding him, he knows because there's a slight difference to it and it's in the purpose. You've been purposely doing things to avoid him.

With an excuse prepared in his head, Chan comes knocking on your door the next Friday night. He's been keeping your spare keys and can easily let himself in but that would be impolite, he needs to be on your good side to earn your trust.

After a few times knocking with no answer, he lets himself in but not because he has the spare keys, the door is unlocked so he figures you must be at home and doing something that makes you unable to get the door.

"Anyone's home?" He shouts into the void in your living room and hesitantly walks further inside.

Hearing the loud humming of a hairdryer, he walks to your bedroom. Unexpectedly, you're coming out as he's about to walk in.

"Oh, God!" You gasp in surprise as you hold the front of your bathrobe together, "What are you doing here?"

In contrast, Chan laughs seeing your shell-shocked expression in his presence. He then crosses his arms together and leans the side of his body against the doorframe, not forgetting to wear his grin as he answers to you, "Just checking to see if my neighbor is alive."

"Well, I'm alive," You're talking as you're taking dresses out of your closet, "and I need your help."

Looking at your mood and the way you talk normally to him, he concludes that the thought that you've been purposely avoiding him was just a silly thought after all. Other than that, you need his help and he likes being needed by you.

"I'm at your service," Chan says, permitting himself to step into your bedroom and sit on the end of your bed.

You're standing in front of him, holding up two dresses in your hands, one is a white line dress with a v-neck and the other is a body-hugging velvet dress in a deep burgundy color. Both will look good on you but he needs to know one thing before he gives his vote.

"Are we going out tonight?" He playfully asks, feeling a buzz of excitement filling him.

You turn around to face the full-length mirror while holding the dress in front of you in turn to give you ideas on how it will look on you.

"I have a date," you tell him.

Hearing that, the excitement in his body vanishes in a second and is replaced by a cold shudder of panic. He tries to laugh it off in denial.

"A–a date?" He stammers.

"Uh-huh," You end up settling the dress situation yourself by choosing to go with the white linen dress, "Can you get out of my room so I can change?"

His subconscious has the tendency to obey you, he gets up from the bed and walks out of your room, and he lingers there by the door, contemplating whether he should push the conversation or not.

"With who?" He doesn't want to know but curiosity gets the best of him.

"A guy I met at one of the weddings," you share from inside your bedroom.

"Is this—" he pauses to swallow air, "Is this your first date?"

"Yes and I'm excited," your voice grows louder and soon, the door cracks open and you reveal yourself to him, "Now, tell me I made the right choice?"

He takes a staggering step backward and asks, "On the date or the dress?"

You take a look at yourself on the round mirror hanging on the wall, "Is it too casual? No?"

For a second, Chan forgets about the direness of the situation and takes a good look at you, the dress compliments your shape so well, the hem flares up like a blooming flower and the v-cut neckline offers a modest cleavage, perfect for a first date. If he has to be honest, even without the dress, it won't make you less comely but he hates that you look this good and it's not for him.

"You look... good," he tries to make it sound like your appearance doesn't make any impression on him.

You wipe the excess lipstick on the corner of your mouth then look over your shoulder, "And the date?"

He doesn't expect you to give him the chance to say something about it and obviously, he's going to try his best to intercept your plan.

"Don't you think it's too soon?" He follows you as you head back to your bedroom then stops at the doorway as you enter the bathroom after, "To get on a date."

You take off the hair rollers nestling on the crown of your hair and your hair flows down like big springs, then brush it down with your fingers.

"You told me yourself that I should get out there and find new love," you return his words to him.

That feels like he's just slapped himself in the face. Why did he tell you that? Oh, yeah, that's because he wants you to start opening up so he can let himself in and fill that position.

"But that's not– I just didn't think..." his words trailing off as he can't exactly explain the reason why he said it, not now at least.

You put all of your hair to the front then flip it all together to the back, you're shaking the end with your fingers, sending the sweet smell of your shampoo flying around in the room.

"Didn't think what?" You curiously ask as you apply a fresh coat of lipstick on your lips, the shade is bright red like a flamethrower.

"When I said you should start finding a new love, I was hoping that you could finally see me and..." he can't find another way of telling you without saying it out loud, "perhaps, you can find it in me."

That makes you stop whatever you're doing and turn around on your feet, leaning against the bathroom counter, you look at him in eerie silence, and then out of nowhere, a laugh bursts out of you.

"Chris, stop playing!" You brush past him on the way out of the bathroom.

He's trailing behind you as you pick up a purse from a collection of them in your closet, "I'm not playing," he assures you.

"Okay, yeah, I trust you," you half-heartedly respond, heading out and going to the foyer to pick your shoes next.

"Can you please look at me?" He pleads as he waits for you to make up your mind with your choice of shoes.

"Just look at me, please?" He begs again, desperately.

You take your chosen shoes and hold them in one hand as you hold his gaze, "Okay, I'm looking at you."

In those fierce eyes, Chan finds the courage to assess his feelings and tries to fathom them into words. He inhales air before letting it out in a long, low sigh.

"Don't go on that date," he demands.

"Why?"

"Because I want you here."

"Chris, that's not a good enough reason," you say with a low laugh.

He gently places his hands on each of your elbows and tenderly stares into your eyes, "Then go ahead, ask me that one question."

"What question?"

"Ask me what are we," he steadily holds your gaze even though he feels a whirlwind in his head and chaos stirring inside his chest.

You brush it off with a laugh, "Why should I ask you—"

"Just ask me the question!" He accidentally raises his voice at you and immediately lowers his voice after, he looks down to take a breather before looking back into your eyes, "Ask me what are we!"

It feels like an eternity waiting for you to ask him that but he has the patience and an answer to that, he only needs you to ask him that.

You drop the shoes onto the floor and take a step forward, you hold his gaze as he holds his breath. Deep down, he knows that you'd have to be blind to not see the light of affection in his eyes.

To his dismay, you unexpectedly retreat and pick up everything with you toward the door. With your back turned to him, you say, "I don't want to be late for the date."

-

It's been an hour since he came back from your apartment and he's still stuck in the denial stage. He's lying in the dark and stares at the ceiling of his bedroom, ignoring his phone that's been tirelessly blaring with notifications.

It's not a rejection if you don't give him a definite, abundantly clear answer, right? Besides, there's a chance that the guy blew the date and you can see that he's the better man. Is he though? Is he any better?

There are two ways to handle this situation. One, he can try to forget all about it, hit call back on one of the girls contacting him right now, get out of here, and distract himself with a physical release. Or two, wait because there's something in him that tells him to wait just a little longer.

But wait for what? Wait until you return from your date? Wait until he sees it happens, you with your new beau, all lovey-dovey next door?

It seems like he's finally progressed into the next stage: anger.

Every thought that crosses his head right now is not nice and he needs an outlet for this anger. He shoots up from the bed, he starts pacing back and forth in the room, hands balled into fists, he gets this urge to punch something, he wants to— No, he can't wait with this ugly feeling slowly taking over him and driving him insane.

"Fuck this," he curses out loud into the void in his apartment, he picks up his phone and texts someone about meeting up tonight.

While typing a text, knocking comes on his door, and whoever it is, they'd better not piss him off or— the knocking comes again, he exhales air out of his mouth to calm down and walks in heavy steps to get the door.

It seems as if his anger wasn't there in the first place, the second he opens the door and sees you, all of those nasty thoughts vanish into thin air.

You're carrying your shoes in one hand and the other is holding one side of the doorframe. You look at him with a smile ever so softly blooms on your face, "So..."

See? It wasn't a rejection. He just needed to wait a little longer and God, he was glad he did.

"So...?" He asks back, holding the urge to smile back at you.

You daringly stare into his eyes as you take a step into his apartment, "So... what are we, Chris?"

It's crazy how your magnetic field is so strong that he can't stand being this close to you and not touching you, his hesitant hands are reaching for you, they retreat and give, doing it for a while until you drop everything off your hands and put your hands around his shoulders. Indirectly permitted him to put his hands on you.

"What are we, mmh?" You ask again with your eyes flickering like they hold stars in them.

"We are..." he considers to let the truth out but what's the fun in that? He needs to get back at you for making him doubt everything earlier, "Neighbors."

"No," you shake your head in disagreement, "You're definitely going to say something else."

Luckily, he's strong enough to hold you steady as you put your whole weight against him, leaving not even an inch of gap between your bodies.

"Someone still has her panties in a twist," he playfully responds with his charming grin on, dimples and all.

"Shame on you because I don't have any panties on," you say with your small smile turning into a broad one.

His eyes widen in slight shock, and his hand automatically glides downward, landing a caress on the curve of your ass and slipping under the hem of your dress to check whether your words are true or not. His fingers edge at the lacy fabric of your underwear and it turns out to be the latter.

"Ugh, you're lying!" He groans in complaint but it doesn't make him less happy, he's elated, and his heart is about to burst.

"Partly."

"How so?"

"Because you're about to take them off," you shamelessly say.

Chan wants to let go of all the things that hold him back. He brings both of your lips together, he kisses you like you're oxygen and he's short on air. He runs his hands down your back to your hips, cupping your sweet ass, and pulls you even closer. You struggle to get closer as he kisses you deep and hard your head tilted to the back, you weave your fingers through his hair as you pour yourself into the kiss.

Everything that happened before this is in the past now, all he knows now is your taste and the hot sighs of your breath, and then this irrepressible want to devour you.

"I'm going to carry you to bed," Chan's plush lips brushing yours as he speaks.

The idea of carrying you to bed is highly appealing to him at the moment. He likes holding you and as messed up as it was, he wants to throw you onto the bed, in the most respectful way.

"Then what are you waiting for, kangaroo boy?"

A sharp gasp escapes your mouth as he swoops you into his arms and carries you in the direction of the bedroom. You have your arms looped around his neck to hold onto and place kisses along his jaw all the way to his bedroom.

Instead of throwing you onto the bed like he planned, he throws both of you onto the bed and it quakes, he immediately props an elbow against the mattress to not put his weights on you.

"God, you're so beautiful," his sigh tells how overwhelmed he is by what he's seeing and what a privilege that he's able to place kisses on such beauty.

When you try to gasp a mouthful of air, he breathes it into you with his hand resting on your jaw, you look up at him, and a starburst of emotion expands inside him. He thinks you see it in his eyes because you softly smile at him.

Giving you time to breathe, he shifts his focus elsewhere, he kisses and sucks on your neck, all the while his hands are keeping your body closely pressed against him, making you aware of the firm flesh prodding your crotch through his blue jeans.

The next thing is his mouth searching for the source of the heat and your body goes into total system failure as his mouth inches closer to where you want him. Between your thighs, you flush and tingle with wanting.

"This smell..." he hums as he buries his nose in your clothed sex, making you able to feel every sharp intake of air he inhales through his nose.

He pries his mouth open and plants it on your heating wetness, not caring about the lacy fabric that blocks him from tasting it raw.

"Mmh..." he deeply hums again, almost like the low roar of a wild animal hunting at night, "I want this smell all over me."

The intensity of your desire frightens and embarrasses you at the same time, you need a little control but control is gone when Chan tugs the waistband of your underwear between his teeth and begins to pull it down your legs.

He places his hands on the back of your thighs and slowly, lifts both of your legs upward as he keeps biting your underwear. You're watching as he tries to take it off of you with such determination.

Once he succeeds, he grabs the underwear from between his teeth and holds it up to show you his latest conquest, "Twisted panties no more," he says with a sly grin.

Instead of tossing it aside, he puts the underwear into the back pocket of his jeans, "I'm keeping it."

There are so many layers of clothing keeping him from feeling your skin but he can start by removing his t-shirt, having no problems showing you his taut muscles and his pale skin that reddens around the chest, neck, and both ears.

Next, Chan grabs your knees, he pulls them apart to bare your sex to his eyes and his chest expands on a sharp inhalation. The look on his face tells it all, he wants you, he wants you so bad that he swallows air, sending his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

It's the first time that he gets to see it open and bare, gushing with essence, tantalizing. He leisurely takes his time to admire it while plotting things he wants to do to it.

He rubs his hands down the sides of your thighs and lowly sighs, without his eyes straying away from the sight between your legs, he says, "You have the prettiest little—”

He thinks he's imagining it but he's not the only one hearing knocks on his apartment door. Sensing someone else's presence, your legs instinctively shut and you pull the hem of your dress down.

"Chris, are you expecting someone?" You ask with your forehead wrinkled in question.

"No," he shortly answers, he doesn't want you to think that he's waiting for someone else other than you, "I don't—"

The knocking comes again a while later, a little too aggressive that both of you can't ignore it anymore.

"Someone is knocking on your door," you say.

"Yeah, but I swear, I don't—"

You place your hand on his waist and look at him, "well, then, get the door and find out."

He'd rather have someone sawing him off of you than having to voluntarily get away from you, whoever this person is will be responsible for what's not going down at this moment.

"Only if you promise you won't change your mind," he tells you with a sly smirk.

"If you don't hurry and get the door, I might," you say back.

"Stay still. Don't move. Not even an inch," he pecks your lips for every warning with both hands cupping your face. He plants another long peck on your lips before dashing toward the front door and thinking of just sending this person away so he can get back to you.

This is where he makes a mistake. He doesn't check through the peephole and opens the door right away, having the faintest idea that catastrophe awaits on the other side of the door.

"Ah, there you are!" The girl says, jumping at him and immediately locking lips with him.

It happens so fast that by the time Chan registers it, the girl pulls away but keeps her arms looped around his shoulders.

"I came here as soon as I received your text," she grabs his chin and kisses his slacked-open mouth, "I hope I didn't make you wait long."

On the other end of the room, he hears your footsteps coming and soon, you come into his sight. You look so calm and he'd prefer a raging sea because with calm water, he never really knows what he's dealing with.

With an enigmatic smile, you look at him and say, "You know what, Chris? I change my mind."

-

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[witherby]

WOAAH!!

Flight of Fancy reached 330+ notes!

ive never seen a request of mine blow up!!!!

—🦈

You have good ideas! And because the first part reached the reblog threshold, here's:

Flight of Fancy, pt. 2

Damian x Winged!Reader

Masterlist is Here!

"This is deep, and was made with a plain-edge blade. Whoever did this to you was trying to hurt you much worse than this."

Damian looks your wound over meticulously as you sit on a chair in the cave's medical bay. "What happened?"

You shrug your good shoulder, examining the space around you with clear intrigue. The Bat Cave was incredibly interesting, with all its different sections and complicated layout. You itched to explore it in its entirety. Maybe Damian would let you when he finished patching you up.

"I wanted to be free. The men who captured me did not approve."

Damian hums. He uses a pair of surgical scissors to cut off the sleeve of your robe to further expose the injury in your shoulder, and you let him do it without fuss. He grabs a wet cloth to clean the blood away and see it all better.

"Why did they capture you in the first place?"

You frown. Your wings, which are currently tucked against your back, flex and flutter briefly. You resist the urge to pluck at your feathers.

"They hunted me down," you explain, "and took me from my home. Said they needed me for what I can do."

Damian picks up a needle and thread to begin sewing the cut closed. You don't object when he warns you of what he's about to do or flinch when he starts.

"And what can you do?" He asks.

You don't respond. Damian sees your jaw clench, eyes darting towards where you know one of the exits to be.

"Alright," he says, "that's fair. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to."

"You are not angry with me?" You ask.

"No. We're practically strangers," he says, tying off the stitchwork and snipping off the excess thread. He grabs a roll of bandages to cover it, and you hold your arm out to give him better access. "Telling me what abilities you possess might lead to exploitation on your part. The safest move is to keep sensitive information close to your chest. I don't even know your name. I'm not angry, I'm impressed."

"Impressed indeed."

Both you and Damian look in the direction of the medical bay's entrance and find Bruce at the door, geared up in his Batman suit. To his credit, he doesn't look as mad as the boy expected.

"I'll need a word with you when you're finished, Robin."

"Of course," Damian replies. He secures your bandage and pulls away. You drop your arm. "Will you be alright alone for a few minutes?"

"I will."

Damian excuses himself, closing the door to the bay and facing his father.

"You're going to tell me off for compromising the cave, and potentially our identities," he says immediately, "and that's fair. However, I informed Red Robin ahead of time so he could hide any documentation, and the Batmobile took a scrambled route here, so they have no way of being able to track the location of the cave once they leave it. They know nothing, and they've seen nothing that can implicate any of us."

"That's not what I'm concerned about," Bruce says. "I'm wondering why you've brought them to begin with. The victims we help in the field don't come back to the cave, ever. That's the part of the protocol I need to know why you broke."

"They're a metahuman, father," Damian says, "and all of Gotham knows your rule. Where else was I supposed to bring a wounded trafficking victim if a human hospital would've turned them away the second they spotted huge wings and golden blood?"

"To the metahuman outpost on the edge of the city limits—"

"— which was being scouted and surrounded by Luthor's henchmen at the time of retrieval."

Bruce purses his lips. "You could have radioed a Leaguer to take them somewhere else."

"It's three-thirty in the morning. Half of them are asleep and won't wake up for a non-emergency summons, and the rest are either off-world, can't get here for immediate extraction, or they're busy protecting their own sectors." Damian crosses his arms and scowls at his dad. "I'm not one of your brainless coworkers incapable of any critical thought. I'm your Robin, and I know what I'm doing. This was the safest and most logical action to take for now."

Bruce sighs. He rests a palm on his hip and nods begrudgingly.

"I understand your reasoning," he says. "In the future, I'm going to update our metahuman contingencies to account for lack of recovery points. For now, you're in charge of keeping an eye on them until morning. Is that understood?"

"Yes."

"Good." Bruce turns away and heads for a different section of the cave. "I'll contact Superman and try to coordinate a retrieval. If he's indisposed, someone will take your place and keep watch until we can safely get them to the outpost."

Damian doesn't reply. He watches him disappear down the corridor, then reenters the medbay to find you missing from your chair.

"...hello?" He frowns, glancing around. There's only one way in and out of there, so he's not sure how you vanished. "Are you hiding?"

"No," you say. Damian looks up to find you perched on the edge of the fluorescent lighting. He has to squint to see you properly.

Your wings are out, flexing and adjusting to help you keep your balance on the light fixture. You look down at Damian with a small smile.

"I can hear many winged creatures in the adjacent rooms. There are none in here, though. I looked."

"Bats," Damian clarifies for you. "They're not allowed in this section because it has to stay well-sanitized. Bats have a tendency to carry disease."

"Is that why the bat-man could not speak with you in here?" You ask. Damian almost snorts.

"No, he's a human. He just dresses like...it's...it makes sense," Damian says, somehow embarrassed by your innocent curiosity. "His moniker is Batman. He's not a real bat. Just like my moniker is Robin, but I'm not a real bird."

You tip your body over until you fall from the light. Damian instinctively extends his arms to catch you, alarmed, but your wings flare out to their full length and help you coast gently to the floor again.

"May I go see them?" You ask. "The real bats?"

"If you promise not to touch them, yes."

You pout, bottom lip jutting out slightly, but don't argue. Damian automatically thinks back on how plush your lips felt against his and looks away.

"Do you have any other injuries that need treated before we leave this room?" He asks.

"I do not," you reply, reaching for the buttons on the front of your robe, popping them open one by one. "If you must examine me..."

Damian physically turns his whole body away from you, wishing his domino mask covered more than just his eyes so he could hide the redness of his cheeks. "No I don't! That's fine, you can keep your clothes on!"

You tilt your head, but don't ask about his flustered behavior. Instead, you reach past him for the door and turn the knob, stepping into the corridor.

"Don't leave the cave," Damian says, walking after you. "It's imperative that you stay here. You're not a prisoner, but this is the safest move for you right now."

"I will not leave," you promise. You look upward as you go, scanning for signs of any bats hanging out on the ceiling. When you find a cluster of them, you spread your wings again.

Hesitating, you glance at Damian over your shoulder.

"Project Angel," you tell him. "That is what they called me, in the laboratory. It's not my real name. You may use the... moniker of Angel."

Damian watches you push off of the ground, soaring into the air with a dizzying speed to admire the animals up above.

"Angel," he whispers, watching your graceful movements with unabashed awe. "Fitting."

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Irresistible {3} || CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader Summary: What was once heaven turns to hell with the unexpected arrival of a new house guest. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, smut, cheating, kind of taboo (future stepbrother) WC: 4K F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four

It was late by the time Charles entered your room and slipped into the bed. You had retreated to your room after washing the dishes from dinner, silently passing each one to Charles to dry. When there was nothing left to tidy, he sighed and decided he couldn’t delay the call that was inevitable.

“Are you awake?” he asked quietly as he curled his body around yours.

“No.”

You felt his smile on your shoulder before he rolled you over to face him and brushed the hair back that fell over your face. “I think I made a mistake.”

It felt like a cruel joke but you had heard his raised voice through the walls, but the French had meant nothing to you. You were certain that after one argument he was cutting things off but you asked anyway, “Why’s that?”

“Because I don’t want to be in a relationship with her.” He pressed his forehead to yours and the breath you had been holding was released with a relieved sigh. “And she wants to come to the first races too now.”

You pulled back to see the pained look in his eyes and realised you had relaxed prematurely. “I thought you said she wouldn’t go to many.”

“She usually wouldn’t, but with the new race schedule it falls right into her school summer break.”

You huffed at the idea of having to share him and watch as she got to publicly flaunt him. Okay, maybe you were a little jealous - but it didn’t change anything because he could never be yours. “Does she suspect anything between us?”

“I am living with a beautiful woman that I am not related to, of course she is suspicious,” he stated with a nonchalant shrug. “But she won’t outright ask or she would have to give up on the idea that we are perfect for each other.”

Your fingers traced the shape of his beard that was due to be shaved again and your shoulders bounced with a quiet laugh. “Look at you, you have it all figured out.”

For a second his amusement faded away and vulnerability set in as he looked at your laced fingers resting on his chest. “You haven’t changed your mind about coming with me, have you?” His words were whispered like he was afraid of the answer.

“I don’t think I could if I wanted to,” you admitted seriously, before a teasing smirk lightened the atmosphere. “I think I would miss you too much, or a certain part of you.”

“Ah, of course,” he chuckled, grateful for the answer and a distraction, “you only want me for my dick.”

You ran your hand down his bare chest until it met the fabric of the grey sweatpants he wore and teased over his crotch. “I was thinking about your tongue but I would miss this too.”

“I feel used, really, I do,” he huffed but his cock began to stir beneath your palm despite the joking words. “I am just an object to you.”

“Yes, you are, but you are a pretty one,” you added with the sultry smile that always set his blood alight. “So are you going to let me use you?”

He grinned as he easily pulled you over his body to straddle his waist. “Always, ma biche.”

Lockdown: Week Sixteen

“Hey Daveed, sorry about the stairs,” you apologised as you ordered yet another heavy item online knowing there wasn’t an elevator in the building.

It was an odd world that you found yourself in. You knew the delivery driver by name now, but you still hadn’t seen the bottom half of his face beneath the mask.

“What have you brought now?” Charles asked from the couch as he sent a wave to Daveed.

“I’ll show you if you help me move it.”

Curious, he got up and gently moved you aside so he could pick it up himself, his biceps testing the tensile strength of his shirt sleeves. “Where am I putting it?”

You rushed around the couch and moved the coffee table that was covered with your puzzle magazines before pointing to the space made. “I’ll get the scissors.”

Charles watched his floor space change from hardwood boards to the fluffiest shag pile rug he had ever seen. Everywhere he looked there was evidence of a woman in his home and he had to admit he loved walking into each room and seeing it.

You starfished on the rug after unrolling it and sighed happily at how soft and fluffy it was beneath you. “Lay with me,” you ordered Charles when you opened your eyes to find you smiling down at you.

Dropping down beside you, he stared up at the ceiling and stretched out, sliding his arm under your head. He ran his fingers through the soft material before those same fingers ran down your sleeve and pulled you closer to kiss your temple. “It’s perfect.”

The doorbell buzzed and you both looked at each other wondering who it could be. There wasn’t anything else that had been ordered and it wasn’t as if anyone could just pop around for a visit with the lockdown still under enforcement. You were still frowning at each other when the bell rang again, followed by a shrill call that made Charles stiffen.

“It’s Charlotte.”

You sat up in an instant and all but ran down the hall to your room, quickly snatching Charles’ pillow and tossing it into his room with the other random pieces of clothes that littered your floor. The security chain scraped open before the deadlock was unbolted and you scanned his room to see if there was anything of yours there but luckily most activity had been kept to your space. You hadn’t wanted to sleep in the bed he shared with her, that was about your limit in your morally grey code of ethics.

“Uh, hey, what are you doing here?” Charles asked as he opened the door, his shoulders blocking your view from the hall.

“I thought you would be happier to see me after four months,” Charlotte murmured as she walked around him and into the apartment. She was perceptive of all the changes and was obviously not impressed by them as she set her suitcase down. “My travel exemption came through today.”

Charles frowned at the large luggage bag but recovered enough to kiss her when she leant in. Your exemption had been emailed to him a few days ago so everything was set to go to Austria in two weeks time but that didn’t help him understand why his girlfriend had arrived at his place with the bag. “Are you going somewhere?”

“I figured since I was allowed to travel I would stay here, with you, until we fly out. I can finish my assignment here and we can catch up on lost time.”

Your stomach knotted at the thought but she had put Charles in a position that made an argument almost impossible.

“I would love that, but isn't it a little insensitive to Y/N? I don’t want her feeling like a third wheel in her own home.”

“This isn’t her home.” Charlotte rolled her eyes and you took a step back behind the wall as she looked around for you. “You said she’s just a guest you can’t get rid of because your mum asked nicely.”

You swallowed down the angry words that clawed at your throat and had to watch as Charles wrapped her in his arms, to comfort her.

Your silent steps retreated back to your room and you closed the door before you could hear anything more. Collapsing on your bed feeling displaced, you could smell Charles’ cologne clinging to the sheets and resorted to stripping the bedding off. Not willing to risk being caught in any small talk, you mounded the pile of sheets and duvet covers in the corner of your room and pulled a pair of noise cancelling headphones over your ears.

You drifted in and out of sleep all afternoon, waking once to decline dinner, telling Charles that you weren’t hungry through the locked door, despite the loud growls coming from your stomach. When you woke again night had set in and it was dark outside your window. The growls had turned to cramps and you couldn’t ignore the need for food any longer.

Thankfully the apartment was silent when you emerged from your room and crept down the hall. You could walk the whole house blindfolded if you needed, you knew because it had been a game you played with Charles a few times out of boredom, but you turned a small lamp on in the living room. The soft glow was enough to see in the kitchen and you found a note on the fridge door.

You smiled at the thought of Charles saving a plate for you and grabbed it from inside the fridge. It smelt delicious as you warmed it up in the microwave but one mouthful had to dumping it in the bin. Though your back was to the hall you could feel his presence like the kiss of the sun on your skin and you placed the empty plate in the sink to wash it.

“You should be asleep.”

His steps were quiet across the floor before his hands found your waist and his lips brushed over your nape before he whispered, “Can’t sleep without you.”

You turned away from the sink to face him but whatever command you were thinking of to send him back to his girlfriend was lost when he kissed you. You could taste the apology on his tongue, feel the regret in his touch as his hand slipped beneath your shirt and danced along your spine.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know she was going to show up here.”

His forehead rested against yours and his eyes closed when he felt your hands come to rest on his neck, your fingers feeling his pulse race beneath them. The silence was heavy as he waited for you to say something but you weren’t going to dwell on what you couldn’t change.

“You should be apologising for the pasta, I nearly broke a tooth.”

Charles stepped back with a quiet laugh and combed his fingers through his hair. “You know I am not good at cooking.”

“That wasn’t cooking, it was uncooked,” you corrected him with a smile. “Are you hungry?”

He nodded, having missed your cooking and took a seat on the bench where he could watch you quickly bring a delicious meal together. He never understood how you could do that, how you could look at what was in the fridge and the pantry and create a dish in your head. When he looked all he saw were the individual ingredients but you saw the potential each piece had, it amazed him every time.

The minutes quickly passed and it was effortless to chat with whispered voices while you worked, a complete dichotomy from how his evening with Charlotte went. Conversation with her had felt forced, like he was talking to a stranger, and he had asked how the weather was twice just to fill the awkward silence.

He barely even heard your words, recounting a humorous camping trip with your father where he forgot nearly all of the food. But you had managed to survive for three days inventing new ways to eat sausages. You paused when Charles didn’t laugh at something he should have found funny but he was staring at your lips in a daze.

“Are you okay?” you asked with a wave in front of his face.

He snapped out of whatever trance he was in and you thought maybe he had been falling asleep standing up. You nearly jumped when he suddenly pulled you into his arms and buried his face in your neck. “I love you.” You could feel his smile on your skin before he kissed the column of your neck, whispering it over and over as he made his way to your lips. “I love you.”

Your palms met his chest and gently pushed him back as you wriggled from his hold.

“What?” he asked, suddenly nervous and self conscious.

“You’re just having this revelation now? At,” you checked the time on the oven, “1:11 in the morning while your girlfriend is asleep in your bed.”

“I mean, I’ve kind of known it since the day we met…” He scratched the back of his neck and shrugged apologetically. “I think I loved you the moment you called me a bad driver.”

You balled up your fist and punched him in the shoulder. “You could have told me sooner.”

His forehead crumpled in confusion as he rubbed his arm. “What? Why?”

Stepping back into his personal space, you rose on your toes so you could kiss the corner of his downturned lips. “Because I love you too.”

His smile could have lit up the whole city and it made the unexpected arrival of Charlotte a little easier to bear. It was almost romantic eating dinner with a single candle burning on the table, if it wasn’t for the knowledge that there was an unwanted house guest in the next room. You probably should have eaten in silence to make sure it went undisturbed, there was always more you wanted to know about each other. Sixteen weeks together brought a lot of insight into the other’s psyche but there was still over 20 years of history to learn.

“Did Peter teach you to cook?”

Your laugh was a little too loud in the dead of the night and you shook your head. “He can only cook a steak, and you don’t get a say in how you want it either - it’s always extra well done.” You took a sip of the wine Charles had poured and giggled at the thought of your father teaching you to cook. “There was this old woman who did the payroll at dad’s work and after mum left Betty helped step in for all the ‘girly’ stuff. Make-up, cooking, boys.”

The corner of Charles’ lips kicked up in a smirk as he sat back in his chair and sighed happily with a full stomach and contentment he had missed all evening. “I imagine you were already a natural when it came to boys.”

You mirrored his amusement and leaned your head on his shoulder when he draped his arm over the back of your chair. “Of course, one insult and I had them wrapped around my finger,” you joked.

“Worked with me.”

“But you’re weird.”

Footsteps padded down the hall and you sat up before Charlotte arrived wearing a shirt of Charles’. She froze as she found the cosy scene and the sleepy haze lifted from her face. “What is this?”

You smiled and reached for the bottle of wine to refill your glass. “I was hungry, sorry, didn’t mean to wake you. Would you like to join us?”

She looked at the clock and you were surprised to see it was almost 3am. Time always seemed to slip by unnoticed when you were with Charles, he was captivating that way.

“No, thank you,” she politely declined as she held a hand out to Charles. “We are going back to bed.”

Charles let her lead him from the room but he looked over his shoulder with a pout and mouthed ‘I love you’ before saying aloud, “sweet dreams.”

You smiled as you mouthed the words back and promised, “I will.”

That was the last stolen moment alone. Charlotte seemed to sleep lighter and followed Charles everywhere he went in the apartment. He couldn’t even stream alone in his office, her ever present shadow was there in the background to gate keep him from you. At night, their arguments would keep you awake and your French understanding grew to know nearly every swear word they used. 

You could see the misery in the dark bags beneath Charles' eyes each morning at breakfast. Though he no longer sat beside you, there was one perk to facing him with the table Charlotte used as a barrier between you. Warmth ran up your leg and you fought not to react to Charles’ touch, it wasn’t much but it was his quiet reassurance that everything would be okay.

Lockdown: Week Seventeen

You woke to a screech and rolled over to bury your head under your pillow. Unfortunately you weren’t able to block out her voice as it grew louder to the point she was yelling. Tossing your blankets back, you draped a robe around your shoulders and swept out of the room with a mission to find out why your sleep had been disturbed.

“Charles, can you please remind her what an inside voice is?” you asked quietly as you took a seat with him at his piano, watching the angry young woman pace around the living room.

“You live like a pig!” Charlotte growled as she picked up his dirty plate left on the coffee table. “And how hard is it to put the toilet seat down?”

You cast a side eye at Charles to see him struggling to hold a smirk in check. He was clearly enjoying himself but you were confused since he had always put the toilet seat down before, and cleaned up after himself.

“Why are there so many cushions in this place?” Her rant continued as she picked up the floral pieces you had scattered across the couch to bring colour to the room.

“I like cushions,” you answered her rhetorical question, drawing her attention to your presence.

“I know exactly what you like,” she sneered as her eyes darted to Charles before she stormed out of the room, dropping the plate in the kitchen sink as she passed.

“Where are you going?” Charles asked as he made to follow, sending a kiss your way.

“Home!”

You dropped onto the couch, enjoying the way your body sunk into the soft cushions, and listened to the rant continue while Charlotte packed her suitcase. You had to bite one pillow when Charles made a weak attempt to change her mind but then she was wheeling her luggage out the door.

Unfortunately her departing words left you little hope as she promised, “I’ll meet you at the airport.”

The door closed behind her and Charles leaned his back against it with a sigh. You cocked a brow at him before he slid the deadbolt home and all but jumped over the back of the couch, pinning you under his body.

“Finally, I have you all to myself,” he hummed happily against your lips but you tugged his hair back so he could see the confusion on your face. “What? I missed you.”

“You planned all that?”

He shrugged and dipped his head to capture your lips that left you needing more of his kisses and less of his clothes. “I was hoping she was going to break up with me, but I’ll keep working on that. PR can’t be mad at me if it’s her choice.”

You combed your fingers through his hair, feeling the soft strands that were in need of a trim again. “But what happens next? They’ll just set you up with another woman that fits their image for you.”

He shook his head adamantly and pressed his forehead to yours. “I’m done with that. I’ll tell them I need to focus on my career or something to get them off my back. There’s only one woman I want, Bambi.”

You tried not to let his promise affect you but the butterflies in your stomach turned to a burn across your cheeks and you buried your face in his neck. His deep laugh reverberated from his chest as he kissed your temple and started to climb off you.

“Hey, where do you think you are going?” you asked as his weight was lifted from you.

“I was going to bed,” he said with a smirk as he started to walk towards the hall. “Coming, ma biche?”

The cushions went flying as you scrambled to your feet and raced after him. It felt as if the universe had righted itself when you closed your door behind you and found Charles stretched across your bed. For a moment you just leaned back and enjoyed the view that you had missed, but only for a moment - you had better ideas on how to spend your time. 

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” you pointed out.

“Why don’t you come and change that?” he challenged with a smirk. Making himself comfortable, he tucked his hands behind his head but the movement tugged the bottom of his shirt up to tease you with the deep V lines you wanted to run your tongue along.

“With pleasure.” You untied your robe and let the material fall to the floor before you stalked him down and reached for his sweatpants. You dragged the soft cloth down and he lifted his hips to make it easier, not that it would have stopped you.

You dipped your head down, grazing your teeth over his hip bone and goosebumps prickled across his skin. His breath caught in his chest as the tingling feeling spread over his body and he chuckled at the sight of it. It was a reaction he had never had with anyone else, there was no one else who could possibly elicit such a feeling with just one touch. 

“Fuck,” he shuddered breathlessly when you lashed your tongue along one V line. He could feel your breath warm on his cock before it cooled as you climbed higher and he groaned at the smirk on your lips. You were playing with him. 

“Be patient,” you warned as you grabbed his shirt and tugged it up his chest. 

“It’s been 9 days, Bambi,” he gasped when you nipped his nipple before easing the sharp pain with your tongue.

“Exactly.” You peeked up his body from under your lashes and enjoyed the strained look on his face, his brows pinched together and his hands in fists behind his head. He was struggling not to take control and bury himself in you. “I have to make up for lost time.”

You pushed him to his limit as you nipped and sucked your way across his body from his neck to his thighs. “Please, ma biche,” he finally whined as his hard cock pulsed with the need to feel your wet warmth. 

“Since you asked so nicely…” You sealed your lips around the swollen tip and hummed in delight at the taste of him. There wasn’t a word that could describe it but it was an aphrodisiac of the highest strength. Need grew to a throb between your legs and your eyes fluttered shut as you clenched your thighs together. 

A deep groan had your eyes opening and you found a wild look in Charles’ before he reached for your arms. You let him guide you up his body thinking he was going to spear you down on his cock but he shuffled down the bed and positioned you over his face. “My turn, mon amour.” 

Your fingers clutched at the headboard as his tongue expertly found all the spots that made you see stars. Like you, he hadn’t forgotten how to drive you wild in the long days since Charlotte’s arrival. 

“Please, Charles,” you begged as he teased around your clit, keeping you dancing on the precipice of oblivion. He teased and he teased until a growl of frustration tore from you lips and you combed your fingers into his hair so you could grind your hips over his face, taking what you needed from him. 

Satisfied and smiling, you were flipped onto your back and Charles chuckled as he kissed his way up your body. “That was rude.”

“You love it,” you fired back with an equally daring smirk that fell away when your lips parted with a soft gasp as he thrust his hips forward and buried himself inside you.

“Fuck, I do,” he agreed with a moan. His breath heated your neck as he kissed your racing pulse, caressing your skin with his lips until he reached yours. “I love you.”

Click here for the next part.

[hitomisuzuya]

Aventurine x fem!reader. Smut. Masturbation. Vivid sexual fantasies. Fingering. Squirting. Blowjob.

@chiscaralight kindly asked I write for Aventurine. It's almost 6am, and this is probably going to sound like a bunch of high nonsense. I really need this man😭 This isn't what I originally intended to write.

Aventurine's mind races when he masturbates. He just can't help himself today. It was bad enough that he had the sudden, uncontrollable urge to seek relief during work hours. But, there were a lot of factors working against him.

There had been a certain sway to your hips when you walked. The perfume you wore assaulted his senses. When you walked, the pleats in your little skirt bounced, giving the slightest whispered hint of a garter belt adorning your thigh.

Sighing, Aventurine leaned back in his chair, giving the atmosphere time to quiet down. Made sure everyone, including you, was out on lunch. His bewitching eyes closed, his hand hovering over his twitching dick.

One of the things that he has been forefront of his mind picturing what you would look like on your knees, with your pretty lips wrapped around his cock. Looking up at him with a look in your eyes that said there isn't anything you would rather be doing than sucking his cock.

You would be letting out the prettiest, muffled noises, drooling on his cock as he pushed it into your throat. He rested his head back on the head rest of his office chair, unbuttoning his pants and freeing his aching cock. He left his gloves on for extra friction.

He couldn't take too long and risk getting caught.

His gloved fingers stroked his cock. Thinking of how your throat would feel convulsing on it as you gagged, his fingers tightening in your hair to hold your head in place as he thrust into your throat. Your tongue would lap and curl around his cock, a muffled mewl of bliss vibrating on his length as it emptied in your mouth.

Aventurine couldn't stop the lilting moans that started to sound from him. He rutted into his hand, hissing and squirming in his chair, his cock pulsing in his hand.

His mind drifted to thinking of sitting you on his desk, and telling you to be good girl and wait for him while he finished working. His fingers would be idly playing and fingering your pussy. "Shh, shh, it's okay, sweet heart," He'd croon as your juices soaked onto his hand, your hips bucking to nudge his fingers into your sweet spot as he relentlessly scissored your walls apart. Whimpers to please let you cum would spill from your pretty mouth. "Just hang tight," He purred, laughing amused as you suddenly squirted on his fingers, "And wait for me," The pace of his fingers would never relent, overstimulating you as he continued to finger you like you never squirted on his fingers to begin with.

Aventurine massaged his thumb over the head of his leaking cock.

Or maybe he would be a bit cruel.

Aventurine fisted his cock with little regard to how much time was passing. He was too wrapped in thoughts of playing with your pussy, and denying you every opportunity to cum. Leave your pussy puffy and abused, your clit throbbing and walls clenching around nothing. He would purposely stay and work late to make you more needy for him.

His cock pulsed steadily in his hand, the cusps of orgasm building as he thought of taking you back to his penthouse. Stripping you with hushed promises to replace any articles of clothing he tore off. Putting you on all fours, pressing your face into the soft pillows and fucking you from behind.

You wouldn't be able to think, the feral pace with which he fucked you barely gave you any time to adjust as he cock squelched lewd and loud in and out of your sloppy hole.

Aventurine let out a loud, lilting cry as cum spurted into his hand. Relief instantly encompassed his body. He sat there panting quietly for a few moments before cleaning himself up.

No sooner had he done so, you, his sweet little secretary, the object of his fantasies had just returned from lunch.

[drabbletron]

I need to scissor with Rodimus so unbelievably bad it’s not even funny

|| My first time writing anything like this! I’d had the thought before but never did anything with it, so I’m glad someone asked for this. Hopefully it’s not too bad! Enjoy! ||

That’s What Backseats Are For: Rodimus x Reader SMUT

🔞 MINORS DNI 🔞

When you said you wanted to try something new, he didn't think you meant valve to valve. He's a little disappointed that he didn't think of the idea himself, and with the way your lips slide over his, he wishes he'd thought of this sooner. He can already feel the slick running down the cleft of his ass to smear over the faux leather interior of his back seat. It's a glitch to clean, but so, so, SO worth it to do this. Not to mention the fact that it's you kissing clits with him. He can't wait to daydream about this while he's in those stupid meetings back on the Lost Light. Your face is flushed as you watch him struggle to breathe (although he doesn't really need to) in his holomatter form. His hair is a mess, sweatband askew and practically falling off him as he grips the backseats of his alt for dear life. But it's his eyes, fiery and warm, that really do you in. Rodimus' eyes glitter in the sex haze as he watches you rut into him just the right way to have him whining on the edge of climax. He hasn't a thought behind them at the moment, you're sure. You're probably going to tease him later for the way his pretty mouth hangs open too, just a little drool keeping his lips shiny and supple. "Harder.... please, I need --!" he begs and presses into your motions. He's so cute you can't help obliging. You slide farther down to wedge yourself against his cunt, gripping his leg to keep him locked with you with one arm and pressing against the back door with the other for support. Once you've braced your legs on the seats there's no going back as you press harder into him and grind long and slow over him. You can feel his clit catching on yours as your lips slide against each other and the slick makes it such an intoxicating sensation that you never want to stop.

Every thrust and grind has his engine revving and he’s ever so grateful that the two of you are far from any civilization. The way you’re making him feel is so unreal and he can’t wait to try this back in his hab again after the shore leave. The next time, though, he’ll be the one making you beg, not the other way around. You’re going to look so good splayed out beneath him while he pins you and grinds your little human valve against his. Rodimus' struggles to keep the moaning under control, but you send him a heated look in challenge. "Let 'em hear you, princess!" There’s no one around to hear, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be bullied some. Fragging smart ass. He'll get you later, but right now he's the one getting got. With a smirk and practiced motions slowly do you swivel your hips into his as he in turn moves in opposite motions to maximize the grind. You're as lost as he is while that unbearable heat in your abdomen blooms up your core. Moaning at the sight of him and trying to focus on keeping rhythm you dare not stop for fear of losing momentum. Rodimus on the other hand, while he enjoys the long, drawn-out teetering on the edge, can't take the heat. Already his voice is nothing more than static and his interior is like a sauna, condensation thick on the windows and beading. Too much. Before you can object, he's pushing up and pinning you into the seat, using the back of the driver side headrest and the headrest of the back seat for support. Still, he keeps your thighs locked with his and he humps for all he's worth. Fast and hard and maintaining eye contact with a gasping open mouth. He's beautiful like this. Hair falling to frame his face, eyes lidded over a delicate flush, and lightly shining in sweat. A living wet dream, and it’s all for you. No one else can have him like you do, no one makes him feel this good, this intense, this happy. You come apart with a whisper of his name on your lips, and the moment you cup his face he's climaxing too. Both his and your slick helping to glide you both near over stimulation.

[astra-ravana]

During A Lunar Eclipse

The total lunar eclipse on the night of March 13-14, 2025, will be visible across the Midwest. During totality (1:26 AM - 2:31 AM), the Moon will take on a reddish hue due to Earth's atmosphere filtering sunlight.

Lunar eclipses are powerful celestial events that carry deep spiritual and magickal significance. They represent a time of transformation, endings, revelations, and deep shadow work. This guide explores the mystical potential of lunar eclipse magick, including its meanings, best practices, spells, and rituals.

Understanding the Magick of a Lunar Eclipse

Astrological and Energetic Influence

• A lunar eclipse occurs when the Earth moves between the Sun and the Moon, casting a shadow over the Moon. This symbolizes the veiling of emotions (the Moon) by external forces (the Earth) and the light of consciousness (the Sun).

• Eclipses are seen as moments of fate, bringing hidden truths to the surface.

• They mark a time of release, transformation, and karmic cycles closing.

• The astrological sign in which the eclipse occurs influences the type of energy being released.

Why is Lunar Eclipse Magick Different?

• Unlike regular full moons, lunar eclipses are highly unstable energetically, making them unsuitable for typical full moon rituals (such as manifestation and charging tools).

• Instead, they are ideal for banishing, shadow work, endings, spiritual transformation, and ancestral work.

• Eclipses accelerate spiritual evolution, so spells and intentions cast during this time may have rapid and intense results.

Preparing for Lunar Eclipse Magick

Set Your Intentions Wisely

Since the energies of a lunar eclipse can be unpredictable, take time to reflect on what you truly need to release or transform. Ask yourself:

• What patterns or emotional wounds am I ready to face?

• What cycles in my life are ending?

• What do I need to purge to make space for new growth?

Create a Sacred Space

• Cleanse your space with smoke (sage, palo santo, mugwort) or sound (bells, singing bowls).

• Dim the lights or use candles to reflect the shadowy energy of the eclipse.

• Set up an altar with items related to the Moon (silver objects, lunar crystals like moonstone and selenite, bowls of water).

• If working with deities, ancestors, or spirits, invite them with offerings (wine, honey, incense, or symbolic items).

Ground and Protect Yourself

• Meditate for a few minutes to center yourself.

• Visualize a protective shield of light surrounding you.

• Carry or place grounding crystals like black tourmaline, obsidian, or hematite nearby.

Lunar Eclipse Rituals and Spells

Shadow Work Ritual (Best for Inner Healing & Self-Discovery)

Needed:

• A journal or piece of paper

• A black candle

• A mirror

Instructions:

Light the black candle and sit in front of the mirror. Gaze into your own eyes, asking: What truths do I need to face? What parts of myself have I been avoiding? Write down the thoughts and emotions that arise. After journaling, say,

"Under the shadowed Moon, I embrace my hidden self. May I heal, grow, and transform."

Blow out the candle, thanking the eclipse energy for its lessons.

Banishing and Cord-Cutting Spell (Best for Letting Go & Breaking Attachments)

Needed:

• A piece of paper

• A black string or cord

• A candle (black or white)

• A bowl of saltwater

Instructions:

Write down what you want to release (a habit, fear, toxic relationship). Tie the black string around the paper, symbolizing your attachment. Light the candle and say,

"By the power of this eclipse, I release what no longer serves me. The past is gone, the future is mine."

Cut the string with scissors or burn the paper, then drop it into the bowl of saltwater. Dispose of the remnants outside to finalize the release.

Ancestral Connection & Divination (Best for Seeking Guidance & Wisdom)

Needed:

• A photo or object of an ancestor/spirit guide

• A candle (blue or white)

• Tarot or oracle cards

• Mugwort or rosemary incense

Instructions:

Light the candle and incense, inviting your ancestors to join. Meditate, focusing on their presence, and ask for guidance. Shuffle and draw tarot/oracle cards with the question: 'What message do my ancestors have for me?' Record any insights, dreams, or emotions that come through. Thank your ancestors, leaving an offering if desired.

Moon Water for Releasing (Best for Cleansing & Emotional Healing)

Unlike regular full moon water, eclipse-charged water is best used for cleansing rather than charging magical tools.

Instructions:

Place a bowl or jar of water outside during the lunar eclipse. Whisper into the water,

"Absorb the power of transformation, cleanse all that is old."

Use this water later for ritual baths, washing hands after shadow work, or sprinkling around your space for energetic cleansing.

What NOT to Do During a Lunar Eclipse

• Avoid manifestation or charging crystals. The chaotic energy can create unintended effects.

• Do not perform love spells or attraction rituals. Eclipse energy is about endings, not beginnings.

• Refrain from making drastic life decisions. Emotions run high, and things might appear differently after the eclipse.

• Don’t ignore your emotions. If deep feelings arise, acknowledge and process them rather than suppressing them.

Post-Eclipse Integration & Grounding

After the eclipse, you may feel drained or overwhelmed. Here’s how to rebalance:

• Take a Ritual Bath: Use Epsom salts, lavender, or rosemary to cleanse residual energies.

• Journal Your Experience: Write down any emotions, visions, or messages you received.

• Eat Grounding Foods: Root vegetables, herbal teas, and nuts help stabilize your energy.

• Spend Time in Nature: Walking barefoot on grass or meditating outside aids in grounding.

• Rest and Reflect: Eclipse energy lingers for a few days, so give yourself time to process.

Lunar eclipses are portals of deep transformation, offering opportunities for profound inner work. By approaching them with respect, intention, and awareness, you can harness their power for spiritual evolution, healing, and release.

[detectivestucks2]

Mean, Rich, & Mine Pt. 5

18+ content, Minors do NOT interact

Pairing: Frat Boy Sukuna x F!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, finger play, toy play, public activity

Summary: It's the day after Sukuna 'claimed' you, but you're not going down without a fight. It's time to prove he can't control you. Do you live up to the test?

Art Credit: @innaillus

Word Count: 2.6k

Chapter 4 I Chapter 6

Walking through campus feels different today. You style your hair in a high pony with a center part, keeping the classy country club look alive with some simple jewelry and your new school bag. Even while wearing your cheap knockoff dress, you’re starting to blend in with your peers. It’s amazing how many eyes no longer linger on your appearance. There’s an occasional smile from a man or two, but mostly you just feel free.

You didn’t acquiesce to Ryomen’s demands. You wore some of your new things, but you chose a blue pair of Victoria’s Secret underwear with a blue lace bra to go under a different sundress from Shein. This one comes up to your mid-thigh with a flowy skirt and a V-neckline that makes you look ready for summer and, more importantly, is something you got for yourself last year. The weather hasn’t quite turned warm yet, so you pair it with a cropped jacket, your new loafers, and your new designer school bag. You’re quite proud of the look, and for once, you feel like you belong at Calvary.

Stepping into lab, you're shocked to see Sukuna already waiting for you at the lab table, 20 minutes early.  When he sees your face, his smile is smug, but as his eyes lower to your body, that same smile turns stormy. It’s not that you didn’t consider his proposition, but at the end of the day, Sukuna can’t control you. You’re not going to allow him to think he can just make commandments and you have to follow them. You barely reach your stool when he snatches your wrist and drags you from the room and into the stairwell. 

“Hey! What’s your problem?!”

“What’s my problem? I should be asking you that question, C. I made a very specific request.”

“And I didn’t feel like honoring it.”

With shocking speed Sukuna reaches under your dress and grips the cloth of your underwear, yanking them so hard that the fabric tears away.

“Ryomen! What the hell!”

“I was clear with my directions.”

“And I’m making it clear that I don’t have to follow them.”

A strong arm around your waist pulls your back against his front, pinning your arms at your sides under his grasp. With his right hand, he travels under your skirt and toys with your exposed hole. He rubs his finger along your seam while you wiggle and buck against him, trying to escape.

“Ryo! Stop, we’re in public!” you whisper panicked. 

“I don’t tolerate disobedience.”

“You can’t control me!”

One thick finger pushes into your core, burying itself in your snug walls. You’re tight, really tight, not like these other bimbos he’s been screwing with. Unable to help himself he jams in another finger, scissoring you open and listening to the squelch of your juices as your cute little hole drools for him like a good kitty. “Seems like someone’s hungry for more.”

“Ryo” his name leaves your lips in a breathy pant, making Sukuna bury his face in your neck, biting down while you melt into his hand. “We have class. Can’t… can’t…”

His fingers drag in and out of you, smearing your arousal all along your sex and rubbing it into your clit. Then, he withdraws his hand and reaches into his pocket while whispering into your ear.

“I brought a little something just in case you decided to be headstrong, my love. Now open”

From his pocket, he brings a pink bulb up to your lips and presses it into your mouth. Your tongue whirls around the soft silicone, feeling its shape. Once your slobber coats the outside, Sukuna removes it with a pop and he pushes it into your hole, leaving its curved tail to poke out and rest against your clit. 

“What is it?” you ask, already squeezing around the object while your body is still pinned to his.

“Your punishment.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Be a good girl and keep it in for me, okay Princess?”

“Like kegels?”

“You can say that.” His smile brushes your ear. “Plus, without underwear, you’re going to make quite the mess on your seat.” 

Your eyes widen. “No, Sukuna, take this out!”

“Don’t you dare touch it.” his voice rumbles menacingly, “I’m not above handcuffing you and dragging you to class like a convict in front of everyone, including our professor.”

Your mouth falls open at his threat while he uses his free hand to pat his pocket, its contents clanging with the sound of metal. One nod of your head signals your submission, placating him. His arm releases you, and you walk back into the classroom together, pretending nothing happened. 

The two of you take your seats and wait for class to begin, your eyes avoiding his gloating face.

As the TA begins describing the organic structure of various sugars and how you will be synthesizing them today, you come to realize the bulb isn’t so bad. Yeah you notice it’s there and it’s keeping you a little wetter than usual, but that could just be the aftermath of feeling Sukuna’s thick digits playing with your pussy. 

He was so dirty in that stairwell. His sexual energy strong. There’s no denying him at this point; he’s touched you too many times. This situation is on the brink of escalating out of control if you can’t find a way to stop him soon.

At some point in your musings, the TA stops talking, and it's now time to go get the equipment for the day. You volunteer to grab the supplies, standing up when you see the giant wet spot you created on your stool. Your horror-stricken eyes find Sukuna beaming with malice as he whips out his phone to take a picture before you can wipe it away. 

“Sukuna, that’s not funny!” you whisper urgently.

“Don’t you have supplies to get?” he says as he scrolls on his phone, saving the picture. 

Frustrated, you growl and walk towards the back counter, grabbing the various vials and a Bunsen burner. Then, like a bolt of electricity, the most intense sensation hits you. It comes at you strong, and just as quickly, it’s gone. Like a flash of lightning, but its magnitude stole your breath. 

Slowly, you turn your head towards Sukuna, who’s grinning ear to ear. This is not kegels, it’s a fucking remote control vibe that he sunk into your coochie. He mouths the words, ‘need help?’ and you feel that you could kill him. 

As your eyes narrow in anger, a new wave crescendos between your legs, your lips part as a pleading look of pleasure consumes your facial features. You try to step forward, but your knees shake, and you resort to leaning on the counter for support. Your small, shallow breaths leave you dizzy, forcing your eyes shut till the vibration subsides. Once it does, you open your lids to find Sukuna waiving his phone. It’s a fucking app. You’re gonna kill him after this, absolutely kill him.

Straightening your posture, you walk back to the lab table and place everything down in front of him. “You asshole, what if I dropped everything?”

“I knew you wouldn’t”

“This is crossing the line.”

“It’s called a punishment for a reason, C.” His finger slides against his phone screen and another intense wave hits you. However, this time you can hear the vibrations against the metal stool. Thankfully there is enough chatter amongst the various lab pairs that the sound blends in but that’s not a guarantee no one will notice.

“This is so embarrassing.”

“Focus Charity, we need to get a good grade in this class.”

“You need to get a good grade in this class”  you correct. “I’m on the Dean’s list.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, just show me what we’re doing.”

“I can’t concentrate with this thing in me, Ryomen.”

“If you don’t try, I’ll raise the strength.” he whispers in your ear.

“No, I can’t” you whine.

Sukuna slides his finger up on his phone, the buzzing between your legs growing louder till a surprised moan falls from your mouth. Your lips snap shut as your eyes bug from your skull. You can feel the gaze of half the class staring at you when Ryomen finally turns the damn thing off. His low chuckle tickles your eardrum, and it takes the entirety of your willpower not to slap the tattoos off his face. 

“I don’t know how, but I am absolutely going to get you back for this.” you warn under your breath. 

“You’re welcome to try.” he taunts as he ignites the flame of the Bunsen burner. 

The rest of class is a pendulum of torture interrupted by brief bouts of relief. By the time the bell rings, your legs are non-functional jello pillars.

Sukuna stands next to you, his enormous frame shading your small stature. “Come on, it’s time to go.”

“I can’t” you peep.

“Remember what happened last time you said that.”

You shake your head, lashes watering. Sukuna rolls his eyes and grabs your things, stuffing them into your bag for you. He slings the pack over his shoulder and then leans down to help you up. As your legs unfold and attempt to stand on the ground, the puddle of fluids on your stool reveals itself. 

A fierce burning desire flares in Sukuna’s chest when he sees your pretty mess. He felt it the night of the party and now it’s back. This crazed need to have you to himself and not share you with anyone else. He gets a better grip on your waist while you wipe away the evidence of your game and then he drags you out of class and to the men’s bathroom. 

“Sukuna, Sukuna! What are you doing?!” you protest. 

“One moment,” he grunts, hauling you all the way to the back of the water closet.

“If you’re bringing me in here while you take a shit I’m going to stomp on your toe.”

Sukuna drops your bags on the floor and pushes you against the wall. His entire lower body grinds against you while his hands start to passionately grab your face. As your body sinks onto your weak legs, he readjusts you to straddle his knee while his pelvis rolls into your hip. 

“I fuckin need you.” he breathes into your cheek. “I need you so bad right now, Princess. I can’t hold it back.”

You feel how true his words are. His length begins to unveil its exact measure as he presses it against you. You moan into him, succumbing to the power of his desire. The way it washes over you is enchanting. His forehead presses against yours before his fingers trace your jaw and find their way into your hair. He tilts your chin up and crashes his lips into yours. 

Prodigious. Sparks fly in your brain, short-circuiting your thoughts. All you can taste is him, smell is him, see is him. He’s everywhere, his body rhythmically pushing up into you while his lips work fiercely. They’re soft at first, but the demand grows with each desperate movement of his mouth. Soon, his tongue is licking its way into your cavern and down your throat. He’s not asking for permission, he’s marking his territory. His thick forearms, ending with cuffs of black banded tattoos, rest against your shoulders, and his fingers dig into your scalp. Everything you thought you knew about kissing has gone out the window, and all that’s left is your submissive, moaning flesh, pinned to the wall and waiting for his mercy. 

It takes minutes for him to satiate his hunger, but not before he leaves your lips red and swollen. Then he finally pulls back, allowing you both a moment to catch your breath. “You see, Charity? I'm not joking this time. You’re mine. I promise you, you’re mine.”

Your fingers touch your lips as you stare up at him, pupils blown wide. You’re silent, but your face says it all. You understand. No one kisses like that if they don’t mean it, not even frat-king Ryomen Sukuna. You’re in big fuckin trouble if this is the beginning of what you think it is… he’s falling in love and he’s taking you down with him.

After your silent exchange of emotions you drop your hand. “Can you help me take this thing out now?” 

His usual playful smile resurfaces on his face. You’ve come to both dread and love that smile. Still propping you up, he tugs on the stem of the evil vibrator and pulls it out, a dirty squelch following its extraction. Thick drops of slick coat your thighs, and a new string of arousal dangles from your core. “You have no idea how hard it is not to bend you over this fucking sink and take you right now.”

You grow nervous at his words, not ready to go all the way with him yet. You’re trying to break this spell, not fall further into it. But he makes it so damn hard when he holds the toy to your lips and demands that you taste yourself. 

You shake your head, suddenly feeling shy when he raises it to his mouth and sticks out his tongue, running it along the toy's entire surface. His grip on your left side grows tight while his eyes close in bliss. He moans against the bulb before tossing it into the sink and stealing your lips again. 

This time you taste yourself on his tongue and you can admit to your own sweetness. His mouth starts to get carried away again so he rips himself from your lips, startling you. “I need to stop myself now before I’m too far gone. I can’t fuck this up, C. I won’t do that with you.”

You blink at him, lost. Who is this man and what has he done with my bully?

“What do you mean before you’re too far gone?”

Slowly his grip on you loosens as he lets you try to stand on your own two feet again. “When I feel like this, if I start, I won’t be able to stop. And you deserve better than our first time being some bathroom bang.” 

You begin to hold your own weight, the strength in your legs returning. With a nod, you assure him that you’re fine. He studies you, then he turns to the sink to wash his toy. 

Your eyes zone out on him for a moment before you start to explore his reflection. The look of concentration on his face, the way his shaggy pink hair sticks out in all directions, the tattoos that curve over his shoulders and disappear down his chest, tucked away under his shirt. He’s gorgeous. 

Then you study your own image, wondering if you two are even in the same league. You scrutinize your lashes and your eyebrows, the depth of your irises and the pink of your lips. Your features are pleasing enough, and right now they look especially appealing because you’re sexed up and horny. But then you notice a detail at the juncture of your neck and shoulder. 

“Is that a hickey?!!!” Sukuna’s smile is reflected in the mirror. “You gave me a hickey?! When did you do that!” 

“Before class”

“And you let me walk around the lab all morning with it?! No warning or advice to cover it!”

“Why would I want you to cover it? I need people to know you are claimed.”

“This isn’t a game, Ryomen. I don’t want professors to think I’m just some stereotypical college bimbo. I’m a scholarship student. My reputation for taking school seriously is all I have.”

“Not true. And don’t worry, your precious reputation will only improve once I’m done with you.”

“Done with me?” you raise your eyebrows at the man.

“You’ll see, Princess.”

Your eyes roll. “You’re never going to call me by my real name, are you?”

“Maybe once or twice.”

“Oh boy! Two whole times.”

He lays his heavy arm over your shoulders and draws you into him, walking out of the bathroom while laughing at your displeasure. “You really shouldn’t make it so fun to mess with you, C. And next time, wear the fucking clothes I tell you to wear.”

Masterlist I Chapter 4 I Chapter 6

[fuctacles]

<< eight | 😺 | ten >>

a little poll while you're here

It's pure torture, sitting in a salon chair. Eddie briefly wonders how women can endure all this treatment and how many of them experience their first homoerotic thoughts under a hairdresser's touch.

The only time anyone is this hands-on with him is during sex, and even then it wildly depends on the partner. His body can't comprehend that it's not a bedroom setting, despite the intimacy of drawn curtains and soft music, and that it is not the time to pop a boner. 

Thankfully, Stephanie swiftly distracts him with questions about his interests, which always works on his nerdy brain. The fact that she's no longer massaging shampoo into his scalp also helps.

"I'm going to cut about this much, okay?" she asks after a moment of brushing and D&D talk, holding up the ends of his hair so he can see. 

"Sure. There's so much of it you can cut more," he jokes but Stephanie cocks her head, pursing her mouth.

Gods he wishes she'd stop making her lips look so kissable. 

"Don't you want to grow them out even more? I think it would look good."

She could also stop praising his hair and overall look.

"You think I could pull off ass-long elvish hair?" he smiles at her mirror reflection. 

"Hm..." She looks at him completely seriously, plays with the hair around his face, and traces the line of his cheeks with the tips of her nails. Whatever vision of him Steph is conjuring in her mind, she seems to like it. "I think yes. Absolutely," she decides, but Eddie doesn't remember what he has just asked.

"Only the ends, then?" she asks, backing away so he can release the breath he's been holding.

"Yeah. Just the ends." He tries to nod, but she swiftly taps her comb on the top of his head. 

"Don't move your head unless I say so," she scolds him with a played-up frown.

"Yes ma'am," he's quick to agree. It's her kingdom and all that. Also, she's maneuvering sharp objects around his head. 

"Good boy," Stephanie smiles again and one of these sharp object might as well have just pierced his heart. 

He knows he won't leave this ordeal unscathed. 

"Could you dye just a streak of my hair? Some weird color, like red?"

Eddie can see her little smile in the mirror. It's a knowing smirk like she was anticipating that question, and this hint of condescension makes her look hot as Hell. 

"If you want red-red and not ginger-red, then I'd have to order the dye," she says, thoughtfully combing through his hair. Stephanie works fast, though, so he's pretty sure she should be done soon. There's another snip of her scissors before she straightens up to look at him properly. 

"As you can imagine, there aren't many adventurous metalheads in Hawkins to work on."

"I'll let you know that during longer breaks there are at least four."

Stephanie laughs.

"Your bandmates, right? But are they all as willing to experiment with their hair?" She raises her eyebrow, and she's suddenly up in his face. The counter behind her creaks under her weight and Eddie wonders how nice it would be to feel it on his lap.

"Well... Gareth's been growing it out," he offers. 

"If he has anything in mind, let me know," she smiles. "I should probably look more into what's new and hip among kids anyway."

"If you weren't holding scissors, I'd pinch you," Eddie scoffs. "New and hip among kids," he repeats under his breath. 

Stephanie rolls her eyes. 

"There's a big difference in hairstyles between Hawkins and Indianapolis though, you can't deny that." She straightens up again to wet her comb in the sink. "Close your eyes."

He does as he's told. 

"Would you want to be—" his breath catches embarrassingly when her damp fingers touch his chin to angle his head where she wants it. "—a hairdresser in a city like that?" he asks.

She hums in affirmation as she combs through his fringe. A stray droplet falls on his nose and she swipes it away with her finger. Eddie wants to lick it clean.

"I've been saving for a second salon, actually. The prices in the city are crazy though."

"Really?" Eddie raises his eyebrows since it's all he can do right now, considering there's a snip of scissors way too close to his eye. He thinks about having Stephanie up in Indianapolis with him. In the same city, that is, close enough to drop for a friendly visit. He could show her all his favorite places, too. 

She hums.

"Do you cut your fringe yourself?" she asks suddenly. 

Eddie sighs. 

"Does it show?"

"Not really," she chuckles. "You did a good job, honestly. It's slightly choppy, but it suits you, so I'm just gonna even it out and leave it like that."

"Oh. Thank you."

She hums again, snipping some hair by his left temple. 

"If I didn't like working with hair, staying here would be torture," she picks up their previous topic. "I got this place shortly before Robin had to move, and I felt stuck in Hawkins without her. But I'm making good money here so I figured I could save enough for a place over there." She combs his fringe again, snips once, and then he can hear a clank when she puts her tools away. 

"How much more do you need?" Eddie asks and then jumps when she touches his face again, dusting stray hair from his cheeks. 

"A bit," she says, but it sounds like more than that. "I was going to sell this place to add to it, but then Robin was talking about opening a chain, so now I'm training Joyce to take over here. Don't tell her though." She bops his nose suddenly, making him squeak. "It's kind of a surprise and I need time to figure it out. You can open your eyes."

Eddie blinks his eyes open and smiles as soon as he can see Stephanie again. But she moves aside, to reveal the mirror behind her. 

"I know it's not much, but is that okay?"

There's indeed not much of a difference, other than his hair being an inch or two shorter and his fringe laying a bit better against his skin. 

"Yes, I'm never cutting it by myself," he says, lightly brushing the hair framing his face with his fingers.

"I can totally do it for you whenever you visit," she agrees easily. "Now, do you want some color in your hair anyway? Because I could bleach that streak you want dyed later, but we would have to deal with the roots when you come back."

Eddie hums thoughtfully. 

"How light can you go? Can you give me like, a white Bride of Frankenstein streak?" 

Stephanie snorts at that. 

"I'm afraid not." She purses her lips, gently rubbing a lock of his damp hair between her fingers. "At least not with what I have on hand. Your hair isn't that thick but it's dark enough to be a challenge for bleaching. I may be good, but I'm not good enough to promise it wouldn't burn to a crisp." She smiles apologetically. 

"I'll wait for the red dye, then." Eddie shrugs. "No problem." 

"Okay. I'll grab the conditioner then, and we should be done soon." Stephanie pats his shoulder and he briefly considers asking her for something outlandish just to keep her working with his hair. 

my boyos:

@wheneverfeasible @steddieinthesun @hattsy-likes-pretty-stuff @bumblebeecuttlefishes @phantomcat94

@tartarusknight  @tinyplanet95 @steddiefication @estrellami-1 @disrespectedgoatman

@madigoround @tartarusknight @blasvemous @cryptid-system

[naomijoestar]

SWAG okay I was just asking if like. La Squadra with a goth reader but the Stand is like one of those little cute clown dolls???

Kinda like one of these if that makes sense??

Masterlist here <3

I just wanted to let you know how much I enjoyed writing this, I’ve been wanting to give La Squadra something for so long!

You didn’t specify whether this is platonic or they’re dating so I made it platonic, I hope you don’t mind. 💕

(Stand side nots: it’s small in size but not as small as the sex pistols, stand abilities: cartoon physics type of stuff, you’ll understand what I mean when you read)

La Squadra with a goth intimidating reader who’s stand is a cute clown

(Bucci Gang version)

Risotto Nero

Risotto eyes you from the shadows, his gaze a piercing mix of curiosity and wariness. He’s used to assessing threats at a glance, and your dark, gothic aura suggests you’re someone worth watching. Expecting a deadly stand to match your look, he’s caught off guard when a colorful, plushy clown appears at your side, giving him a cheerful wave. Risotto’s eyebrow twitches in confusion. “That…is your stand?”

You merely nod, unbothered by his judgmental tone, and watch as the clown suddenly pulls out a giant anvil from behind its back. Without a moment’s hesitation, it hoists the heavy object above its head and slams it down toward Risotto. He dodges just in time, but a massive crater forms where he’d been standing. Now, his interest is piqued.

The battle is intense, with Risotto using Metallica to manipulate nearby iron objects, while your stand counters with cartoonish props that make no sense. When Risotto sends sharp metal scalpels flying your way, the clown produces a comically large pair of scissors, snipping each projectile mid-air before any can touch you. He clenches his teeth, frustrated but impressed, realizing your stand’s unpredictability is a dangerous advantage.

As the fight progresses, Risotto attempts to corner you, but your clown keeps pulling off unexpected tricks: an endless rope to trip him up, a cartoonish boxing glove that launches itself from its body to land a powerful blow, and even a giant magnet that affects his own stand. Despite his usual stoicism, you catch a slight twitch of a smile at the edge of his mouth, a rare acknowledgment of respect.

Formaggio

The moment Formaggio sees your stand, he bursts into laughter. “A clown? For you?” he teases, clearly amused by the contrast. He underestimates both you and the clown, finding the sight of it bouncing around in its colorful, knitted outfit hilarious. “Oh, this is too rich! What’s it gonna do? Tell me a joke?”

But as he’s busy laughing, the clown’s wide grin turns mischievous. With a snap of its fingers, it pulls out an oversized mousetrap and sets it right near his feet. Just as he takes a step forward, SNAP! Formaggio yelps, his foot caught in the trap as the clown cackles, its high-pitched laughter echoing.

Annoyed, he shrinks himself down, hoping to slip away undetected, but your stand has other plans. Suddenly, a tiny circus tent appears around him, trapping him inside with exaggerated cartoon walls that stretch and contract whenever he tries to push against them. He scrambles around, bumping into props like juggling pins and rubber balls, each one oversized and ridiculous. Every escape attempt is thwarted by the clown stand, which gleefully watches from outside, tapping its nose as if to say ‘Nice try!’

Frustrated, Formaggio finally escapes, only to be greeted by a pie to the face courtesy of your stand. You can’t help but smirk as he stumbles, wiping cream from his eyes. Lesson learned: don’t judge a stand by its appearance.

Illuso

Illuso sneers, confident he can handle whatever your stand throws at him. He’s unimpressed by the clown’s playful antics, crossing his arms with a smug grin. “That thing can’t possibly stand a chance in the Mirror World,” he scoffs. He reaches out, attempting to drag the clown into his dimension. But as he tries, the clown’s face smashes against the mirror like it’s in a slapstick cartoon, flattening with a loud ‘SMACK!’

Irritated, Illuso tries again, but the clown wiggles its finger at him in a mocking gesture. Then, with a flourish, it pulls out a comically large mallet and begins pounding the mirror. Each hit causes cracks to form in the reflective surface, sending Illuso scrambling to repair it from his side.

Realizing he’s losing control of the situation, he attempts to flee, but the clown is relentless, conjuring up ridiculous items: a huge pair of pliers that it uses to tug on his jacket from the real world, a tube of glue that it splatters across the mirror to trap him, and even a giant, inflatable hammer that bounces him around when he tries to escape. By the end, Illuso is fuming, his pride wounded as he’s bested by what he initially thought was a “harmless joke.”

Prosciutto

Prosciutto gives your clown stand a cold, judgmental look. “How ridiculous,” he mutters, activating The Grateful Dead to age it immediately. He expects the clown to crumble like any other target, but instead, the clown’s cheerful expression only morphs into an exaggerated elderly one, complete with a fake beard and comically oversized glasses. It hobbles around, leaning on an imaginary cane, but still manages to wave cheekily at Prosciutto.

Annoyed, he increases the aging effect, but the clown retaliates by pulling out a huge spray bottle labeled “Youth Juice” and spritzing itself. With a little shake, it reverts to its original state, completely unaffected by Prosciutto’s stand. He grits his teeth, realizing this is going to be more complicated than he anticipated.

As the fight goes on, your clown stand begins to toy with him, pulling absurd stunts to dodge his attacks. At one point, it stretches out its arm impossibly long to reach around him, delivering a surprise slap across his cheek. When he lunges at it, the clown conjures up a banana peel, sending him sliding across the floor in a rare moment of humiliation. By the end, Prosciutto’s usual calm demeanor is shattered, replaced with a barely restrained fury as he realizes he’s been made a fool of.

Pesci

Pesci is intimidated by your dark, gothic look, but the clown stand’s cheerful demeanor throws him off balance. He chuckles nervously, finding its antics strangely endearing. He reaches out, almost wanting to pat it, but that’s when the clown’s eyes glint with mischief. Suddenly, it pulls out a gigantic fishing pole, casting the line straight at Pesci’s Beach Boy.

To his horror, it hooks onto Beach Boy and starts reeling it in, dragging him along with it. He panics, trying to regain control, but your clown stand is relentless, pulling out one absurdly oversized object after another: a big rubber chicken that smacks him across the face, a fake tunnel painted on the wall that he crashes into, and even a gigantic fishbowl that it briefly traps Beach Boy inside.

Pesci ends up sprawled on the ground, out of breath and utterly bewildered, realizing that the “cute” clown was anything but harmless.

Melone

Melone’s analytical mind goes into overdrive the moment he sees your stand. He’s immediately intrigued, trying to understand how something so cute could pack such a punch. He releases Baby Face, expecting the creation to take care of the clown stand quickly. But your clown is ready. It pulls out an enormous vacuum cleaner and begins sucking up Baby Face’s cubes as they approach, each one vanishing with a satisfying “pop.”

“Fascinating,” Melone mutters, momentarily captivated. But his awe turns to frustration as the clown pulls out more absurd props: a giant fly swatter to smack down any cubes that regenerate, a massive cartoonish rubber band that it snaps at Baby Face, sending it flying back, and even a bucket of water it throws in Baby Face’s direction, which somehow shorts out its pieces temporarily.

Melone watches in frustrated fascination, torn between admiration and irritation as your clown completely disrupts his plans. His usual calm is nowhere to be found as he finally realizes that no amount of calculation could prepare him for your stand’s chaotic nature.

Ghiaccio

Ghiaccio scoffs the moment he sees your stand, launching into a furious rant about how impractical it is. “A clown? Are you serious? How can you take this fight seriously with something like that?!” he shouts, his icy rage fueling White Album’s powers. He expects you to be intimidated, but your clown merely giggles and pulls out an enormous fan, blowing back his freezing attacks with ease.

As Ghiaccio’s temper flares, the clown pulls out a barrage of comedic props: rubber chickens, cream pies, and a mallet that’s almost as big as he is. Each item hits him with perfect comedic timing, making him look increasingly ridiculous as he stumbles, rants, and struggles to stay upright. His face flushes with frustration as he realizes he’s being outmaneuvered by a “stupid clown.”

His final attempt to attack is thwarted when the clown produces a firecracker, tossing it at his feet with a cheeky wink. The explosion leaves him covered in soot, looking like a classic cartoon character after a mishap. Seething, he roars, “STOP LAUGHING!” as your clown grins back, unfazed.

I hope you enjoyed this! If you’d like anything fixed or anything specific don’t be shy to message me and tell me!

If you liked this make sure to check out my other work, and if you’d like anything specific for any jjba character/squad from parts 1-7 don’t be shy to request it!

[sea-lanterns]

oh !!! what abt for the “date everything” au instead of plushy!citlali it could be grind pillow citlali? bc there’s a sex toy in there and i think it’d be a good way for the other genshin ladies to try and vie for your attention more!

GRIND PILLOW CITLALI 😭

Okay, that probably fits Citlali a little more tbh. She’s just a random throw pillow that came in your comforter set for your bed, but she’s the perfect size to slot in between your legs and grind on whenever you’re feeling pent up. When she’s in her human form she always blushes around you because she thinks back to the times you ride her to get off. It’s basically the same thing as scissoring her, and she wonders how it’ll feel when she’s in her human form… (cuz she has a pussy in this form lol)

“That…That thing you do to me when you are horny. What is it called?”

“R-Riding?”

“Yes, that! Can you…do that to me but when I’m in this form? I want to try it…”

She’s blushing quite a bit when she asks for this, but who are you to deny your throw pillow’s cute begs. Also once again, whoever is your bed or whoever is an object in your bedroom, is just kinda forced to watch Citlali get grinded on. They’re quite jealous indeed, but maybe that’ll change when they reveal their human forms to you like Citlali…

[gh0stsp1d3r]

HEYY BABES SO CAN U DO A JJ x sister!reader (few years younger, she’s a teen.)

TW: depression, talks of SH, ED, etc…

Basically,

She comes home and seems off and all the pogues know she suffers from depression, and so JJ is like hey bbg (NICKNAMES PLS) and lightly tries to understand what’s going on, and she just kinda pretends nothing is going on. She goes to the bathroom to take anti-depressants and then all of a sudden she just desperately tries to look for something sharp to SH. She can’t find anything in the bathroom, so she slowly falls to the ground, has a breakdown, JJ comes and is all comforting and understanding and then after she explains to him how she almost relapsed, and then she well yeah u can makeup the rest

ℛℯ𝓁𝒶𝓅𝓈ℯ

warnings: depression, mentions of blades, attempted self harm. I am not responsible for what u read.

Masterlist

You raced home to the chateau, your hands shoved into your pockets. You held back your tears, taking a deep breath when you stood in front of the door, hand on the doorknob. You twisted it, immediately being met with the faces of your brother and his friends, all lounging on the couch or the floor, nursing beers and joints.

"Yo, what's up, idiot?" JJ asked you, turning to look. You stared back at him and his friends, before wordlessly making a beeline to the bathroom.

JJ turned around, creasing his eyebrows and shrugging at the odd interaction, chugging a beer. Everyone else seemed just as confused.

Worry began to bubble in his chest, and he tried desperately to push it down. The worry only grew when he heard the noises coming from the bathroom.

You locked the bathroom door, letting the tears silently fall finally, and looking at the medicine cabinet. You were throwing and shoving things around, trying desperately to find it, or anything at this point.

"No, no, no." you murmured under your breath, you couldnt find anything, not a blade or even scissors. Your skin was itching, the urge growing strong. You pulled at your scalp, finally falling against the door, your sobbing becoming louder. You held your hand over your mouth, trying to conceal them, but it was no use.

The urge to do it came suddenly, as soon as you left work actually.

"What the fuck...?" JJ muttered under his breath, all of them turning their heads, the room falling into silence now.

"Go check on her, dude!" Kiara told him, shoving his shoulder and motioning to the door.

JJ walked over to the door, messing with the doorknob. He furrowed his eyebrows, panicked, he rapidly moved the doorknob back and fourth.

"Y/n? Y/n, unlock the fucking door, dude. I'm not messing with you right now." He told you, still messing with the doorknob, then banging on the door.

He thought of the time this happened last time at home, his dad shouting and yelling in the background while Jj worriedly knocked on the door of your bedroom, your dad busting the door open and both of them catching on when they saw the sharp object thrown on the ground.

The banging caused to cover your ears, sobbing louder now.

"Y/n... Please don't tell me you did anything stupid." JJ sighed, you taking your hands away from your ears and wiping your tears. “Unlock the door, kid. Please.”

You slowly stood up, unlocking the door with shaky hands. His eyes went to your wrists, making sure nothing new was there. He sighed in relief, wrapping his arms around you, you continuing to cry into his chest with your arms at your side.

His hands cradled the back of your head, he slowly and quietly closed the bathroom door, giving you both some privacy. He waited until he heard nothing but your sniffles to let go. He grabbed your shoulders, staring at you.

"What happened, kid?"

"I... was working, and..." you paused, sniffling and wiping your nose. "I saw dad come up. He- he fucking came up to me, shouting and cussing at me. He almost got me fired!" You told him, anger lacing your voice. "Then he told me that-that I was the reason mom ran away, and I was the reason his life was so shitty, and tried to guilt trip me into coming back." your face creased up as you began to cry again, hiding your face in JJ's shoulder and grabbing onto his shirt.

“He told me that- that I was a terrible daughter, and he grabbed my wrist and-“

“Alright. Alright. You’re okay. Shh.” He swallowed, hand wrapping around you again. Unsure of what to do, he waited until you stopped crying to talk again.

He motioned for you to sit down on the closed toilet seat, and he sat down on the counter, swinging his feet.

“Dad’s- dad’s an asshole, okay? You know not a word of what he said was true, right? He just wants you to come back so that he can fuckin’ steal your money and have someone to be angry at. Fuckin’ prick.” He scoffed, shaking his head.

You looked unconvinced. He stared at you.

“Nothing he said was true, y/n.” He assured you. “He used to say some of the same things to me. You think I let it get to me? Nah. You wanna know why? Because he is a selfish, druggie, loser addict who no one loves. You’re not gonna be him, because you’re fuckin’ awesome, dude!”

You smiled and let out a nasally laugh, making him smile.

“You’re a wayyyyy better surfer and fisher than he is. And he’s a fuckin’ fisherman! How do you let a teenager beat you at your own job, man?” Your giggle widened his smile, you covering your mouth.

“I mean, shit, I would rather be stuck with you for 100 hours than him for a minute. And you ask anyone out there, they’ll say the same.”

You laughed with JJ, and the bathroom was silent until he spoke up again.

“Don’t do that shit again, okay? Especially not because of a nobody like Luke. Next time he comes to your job or even around you, call me and I’ll come beat his ass.” JJ put up fists, punching the air with grunts.

You laughed at his antics and nodded. “I’m sorry, Jj.”

“Don’t be.”

[mygnolia]

get better! | 13. my kitchen almost caught fire!

SMAU! synopsis -› in which your neighbor and popular twitch streamer park sunghoon breaks his arm, so he switches to vlog style content that matches up with your’s! now everyone’s curious why 1) you have a cute boy in your apartment, 2) sunghoon’s not on his grind anymore, and 3) when are you two going to date!?

[1.2k, minor minor cut, cursing]

Choosing your kitchen to film was one of the worst ideas you’ve ever had. 

Sunghoon barely bothers to knock now, yelling at you when there’s no one else in the corridors to let him in. He’ll frantically text you or blow up your phone until he’s impatient from your ignorance and ends up ringing the doorbell to catch your attention. 

You don’t even greet him, and instead, you open the door with an accusatory finger. 

“You better not mess anything up. This apartment is new.” 

He puts his hands up in surrender, following you to see your camera set up, along with ingredients, cutlery, and everything you could need in case he needs to find something. 

“You’re awfully prepared for this,” he notes, walking around the kitchen island to face the camera. “Trust me, I’m friends with a guy who cooks, so I promise nothing bad will happen.”

You stare at him unconvinced, before he hears you mumble something about never trusting men who lie (which he takes a lot of offense to).

Slipping behind the tripod, you click a few buttons, readjusting to get the perfect angle where both you and Sunghoon are in frame, and your roomy cooking space is all included before clicking the dreaded start button. 

“What’s up, Pickles Fan Club? It’s your club president Y/N L/N, and I’m joined with a special guest!” 

Sunghoon’s gaze lingers on your infectiously cheerful personality, before he smiles brightly at the camera and introduces himself once more. You two explain the challenge you’re doing in today’s video, and after the rules are clear, you pull out your cute pink sleeping mask and a pair of white headphones, grinning mischievously when you see him eye the two objects. 

“I’m not wearing that,” He states, staring wide-eyed. You place the items down, putting your fist out to initiate a game of rock paper scissors—and that was how you lose three times, before you had to place your favorite covering over your eyes. 

You hated this; you felt like you could trip at any moment. 

Returning to the camera, you asked Sunghoon to check up on the smaller cameras on your counter and near your stove to make sure they looked right before turning on an upbeat playlist for his headphones. 

“Hey Sunghoon, do I look cute?” You asked, testing to see if he would respond. He was in his own world, staring at the flour and block of cheese as if dozing off. 

Estimating where the camera was based on the counter, you confirmed that, “Either Sunghoon is in another dimension, or he can’t hear me. Anyways, we’re going to make pasta, and we printed the recipe from Jay.” 

Making pasta was probably an even worse decision than choosing your kitchen as your channel’s next battlefield.

It was chaotic as Sunghoon scrambled to lead you away from pricking your finger immediately, telling you to wait as he read the instructions on how the hell you make creamy pasta sauce. 

“Three cloves, finely chopped. You can cut it, right?” You nodded in response, and he handed you the handle of a small knife, watching you carefully find the cloves and using the proper method to cut them slowly without ever hitting your finger. He began to pour hot water into a pot, switching on your stove carefully and waiting for it to heat up. In another pan, he added oil, and measured out heavy cream and butter to keep aside. 

He turns around, just the sound of HOT TO GO by Chappel Roan in his ears as he bops his head to the music before he notices you. Sunghoon grins as he observes how you reach out nervously to find the fabric of his button up. “Sunghoon, where the fuck are you?” You say, knowing he can’t hear you, before you point to your cloves. 

They could use some work, but he slides them into the sizzling oil. 

“Okay, now get the wooden spoon and stir.” You do as he says, slowly mixing as he pours in heavy cream and warns you not to stir too much. He proceeds to place the pasta in the water, switching tasks for you to grate the parmesan instead of stir and possibly burn yourself. 

The moment he sees you stop in his peripheral, he whips around to make sure you’re okay, only to see you’ve nursed your finger after a small scrape against the grater leaves your skin pricked and red. 

“____,” He murmurs, abandoning the stove to make sure you’re okay. “Let me get you a bandaid,” he says. Sunghoon reaches gently for your wrists, and although you can’t see anything, it heightens your senses, and you hear his worried gasp before the barely there pressure of his fingers around your hands. 

Too close. You’re friends. 

You shake your head and stop him by his wrist, finding the block of cheese and waiting until he helps you get it right. What you don’t expect, though, is how he reaches for both of your hands and leans over your shoulder, staying silent as he guides your firm grip on the cheese in the proper direction. 

Friends also do not do this, you think, as he stands behind you and watches you carefully grate a fucking block of cheese. You don’t feel the rise and fall of a friend’s chest behind you or hear their quiet breaths.

Then, something beeps. 

You immediately wring your hands out of his to take off the mask and pull off his headphones to reveal a beeping smoke alarm. Your sauce was bubbling much too high, and somehow your detector went off, and you two turned off the stove before trying to fix the stupidly loud problem on hand. Sunghoon ended up hitting it multiple times on end before it finally stopped, and you looked at each other in fear before quietly returning back behind the camera. 

“So,” you started, “Sunghoon set off the fucking smoke detector.”

He gives you an offended look before turning to the camera as his witness. “It was literally you!” 

You two point fingers at each other before laughing and simply finishing the challenge without your handicaps, and you end up making a really good looking pasta. The chicken looked well seasoned, and although your sauce might’ve burned the bottom of your pan, it leaves a fond memory behind.

To be fair, you both think you did the challenge wrong somehow. 

Sunghoon shrugs before he takes a bite, his eyes glowing with approval. “I knew Jay’s recipes were good,” he comments as he digs his fork back in…to feed you. He opens his mouth as a way to get you to subconsciously do the same, and you raise an eyebrow at not only the hand under your chin to catch any food, but also the fork that was barely a centimeter away. 

“You’re spoon feeding me?”

“Say ahh,” he deflects, before you give in with an amused look. You two spend a few minutes reflecting on how you did, and you still laugh at the fresh memory of your alarm, or cutting your garlic cloves well, or—how Sunghoon felt as he leaned over you and carefully held your hands in his. 

You watch the footage that night with a smile and a storm in your heart, unsure of what the hell you’re going to do regarding a certain Mr. Park Sunghoon.

prev. | ml. | next.

[4sunnyday4]

Thinking about the Mirabelle RPG that sadly does not exist, credits to @akemiiya because their post is what gave me this idea.

So you know how you can interact with your souvenirs in front of the Favor Tree and Loop will react to them? In the Mira rpg you can also interact with objects in your inventory, in this case the keys/star crests you grab around the House, selecting them in your inventory will trigger a conversation ("Are eggs important to the Change belief somehow?")

The Circle key is very discussed because it's the only key with more than one conversation, any other key/crest will just repeat the conversation when selected again but the Circle key will make Siffrin alternate between keeping quiet with a curious/disbelieving face and asking a question about the key having to do it a total of six times to get every dialogue.

It's very weird, very missable (since you lose the key when using it) and the game never acknowledges it.

The empty key is also unique in that it's dialogue changes after you defeat the King. Someone gets the idea to use hacks to have all keys post King fight and see if the dialogue changes.

Everyone goes ballistic when Siffrin's answer to "No, silly! What would it be inside of?" changes from dot dot dot to the Universe because the only other two times the Universe was mentioned was the King and the sparkling diary.

The theory that the King and Siffrin were from the forgotten island already existed but there was very little evidence so anyone who subscribed to the theory was called crazy, after this though it became one of the most popular and accepted ones.

It's really controversial in the KingSif community though because some use it as argument that it's canon ("See? They did know each other!) while others use it to debunk it ("The King was obviously just thinking of the island when he singled out Siffrin, they're strangers")

+ Some key/crest conversation ideas.

Star Crest:

There are three conversations in total for the crest going in the following order:

- One talking about it's shape with Siffrin revealing it's a star.

- One talking about hey kinda weird the King is letting roam around these Sadnesses that drop items that can counter his time freeze.

- One talking about it's sugary smell.

Smiling Key:

Everyone is like "Wow Siffrin, how did you find that key?" and Siffrin will say "I saw it in the photo!" take out said photo and point at the background where if you squint hard enough you'll see the tiniest tiny dot of light.

Each of the rock, paper, scissors key can unlock a different skill for Siffrin but you can only have one.

Why? It makes sense, it'd be pretty weird if every character but Siffrin got a Paper attack and I think we all agree that even with the help of the loops Siffrin is a very talented Craft user.

Paper and Rock have different conversations but they both end with:

Siffrin: Is it really that difficult though? I think I could pull it off.

Odile: Siffrin, only 3.5% of people can use dual Craft, it's not something you can just "pull off".

Isabeau: Nah, I'm sure Sif can do it.

[Let Siffrin learn X ability?]

If Rock:

Odile: Hmm, since you have so much faith in Siffrin I suppose you can teach him.

Odile: Just keep in mind there's a kid here when you have your up close and personal sessions.

Isabeau: MADAME!!!

Siffrin: ?

If Paper:

Odile: Well, there are rumours that the King uses Protective Craft so a third member with paper attacks would be advantageous. Alright, I'll teach.

Bonnie: WHAT.

Siffrin: Really?

Bonnie: Dile, teach me! Teach me!

Odile: Maybe after you can properly use Protective Craft.

Bonnie: Hmph! So unfair!

Meanwhile Scissors is Odile telling Siffrin to lock the fuck in which unlocks a weaker version of (just attack) that you can't use before King fight.

Empty key:

Pre king fight it's Odile's canon reaction to first picking up the key, post King fight it's the party dissing the key for being useless with Mirabelle trying to defend it.

KeyKnife:

Mira is still very impressed the Change God helped them, Siffrin says something about the knife's sharpness, if you didn't grab the sharpening stone (interact with the forge until Bonnie mentions using Siffrin's old sharpening stone as a skipping rock) Siffrin will mention that it's a shame he can't sharpen it, if you do have it Siffrin will sharpen it turning the knife into a weapon and therefore non interactable.

[ginnyw-potter]

Sticking to one's knitting

@ginnystrophyhusband prompt: ex

Ginny stared at the newspaper viciously, hoping it may spontaneously burst into flames but it didn’t. She hadn’t even bothered to sit down yet.    “What do they mean?” she complained as she gestured towards the paper. “Ex-Chaser? Ex? I have been off a broom for a week! I am pregnant, not retired!” 

Looking for support, she turned to Harry who was buttering his toast by the table. He met her eyes and let out a little sigh as he smiled. 

“Are you smiling because you think it’s funny I’m annoyed or because you just remembered I’m pregnant?” She crossed her arms. “Think carefully before you answer.” 

He put his knife down and stood up. He walked up to her. “You always tell me not to think about the load of dragon turd they write because it’s just gossip. Where is that Ginny now?” 

She resisted pouting and turned her body towards him. “Hibernating,” she said, refusing to meet his eyes.

Her eyes darted up anyway to meet Harry’s amused look and she broke immediately. She smiled, letting out a huff and planted her forehead against his chest. 

His arms wrapped around her and he softly brushed a hand through her hair.

“It’s just that… if one single person asks me if I am retired today, I’ll be pissed—and I may actually burst out crying,” she admitted reluctantly.”

“You can’t cry, Gin,” he offered. Before she can ask why, he continued, “You need to see where you’re aiming your hexes.” 

She did not reply, instead enjoying the feeling of Harry’s fingertips massaging her scalp.

“What do you want to do today?” he asked. “Diagon Alley is off the table for sure.”

“No flying, no shopping, no coffee…” she rattled off. She looked up. “What else is left?”

He shrugged. “Reading, knitting, I’m here…”

“Oh!” Her excitement suddenly grew. “I am going to go knit with mum.” She stepped sideways away from him to go upstairs and get dressed. 

“But I’m right here…” he objected mildly. 

“Yes,” she told him. “Very nice. Tomorrow.” She grinned at him. “Make me some toast, will you?”

She got dressed, had some toast and then she flooed out, leaving Harry to clean up the table—but he said it was fine because he had nothing else to do.

She walked into her parents’ living room after a short knock on the door and found her mum already knitting. “Can I knit with you today?” 

There is a flash of recognition on her mother’s face and she nodded eagerly, patting the space behind her. “What do you want to make?”

“I think perhaps I can start off with some baby socks, but perhaps also a hat? I don’t know.” 

Though her mother taught her how to knit, she never quite did it of her own volition. Her mother helped her get started and then they knitted away all day. They took turns getting up to brew more tea so there was always a warm tea pot on the living room table to pour from and only stopped to have lunch when Mr Weasley came out of his shed when he got hungry. 

They chatted the whole time. Her mother had so much useful advice and Ginny took it all in. Her mother clearly enjoyed passing on her wisdom to her daughter. 

She didn’t realise how much time had slipped by until she heard Harry’s voice in the kitchen, asking her father where she was. He stepped in a moment later and Ginny thought it was probably quite a sight. There were balls of wool on the couch, on the table, in a basket beside the couch... Among them knitting needles, scissors and notes from her mother where she had written down patterns. 

It occurred to her that he didn’t have someone to speak to about having a kid. She wondered if she would have to put her dad up to it to guide Harry a little. 

“It’s almost time for dinner,” he told her. “Was just wondering if you were coming home or staying here.” 

She shook her head. “I didn’t realise it was so late. Let me finish my row and then we can go.”

“No problem, that’s okay.” 

“Harry,” her father said. “I’ve been fiddling all day with some wiring I can’t seem to understand. Would you care to take a look?”

“Sure,” he replied, and then he followed Mr Weasley out of the house. 

She finished her row and thanked her mum for all the help. They tidied up a little, returning the yarn they weren’t using to the cupboard and collecting the pieces of paper. 

“This was nice,” her mum said. “You can finish that at home but don’t hesitate to come back whenever you like.” 

Harry returned a moment later. “Ready?” 

She held up the small basket that held the baby sock, ball of yarn and needles. “Yes.”

“That’s an adorable little sock you got there,” he remarked. 

She smiled at it. “I also made a little hat.” 

She waved goodbye to her parents and stepped into the fireplace and flooed home. She set the basket down in the living room as Harry stepped out behind her. 

“I’ll get started on dinner,” she said and opened the door to the kitchen. 

She paused in the door opening, looking at the set table complete with unlit candles as the scent of the food pleasantly bubbling away in the oven hit her.

He was right behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist and placed a kiss on her cheek. 

“What if I hadn’t come home?” 

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably would’ve found another Weasley to eat it.”

She prodded him lightly. “I’m not a Weasley.” 

“By name, but very much by blood,” he told her. “Are you hungry?”

He released her and the candles were lit by a wave of his wand. 

“When am I not?”

He smiled broadly at her and pulled her chair back. “Come on then.”