#steamed and then mixed in to other stuff

[youredyingthatsallthereis]

not to talk about my personal life on main but like.

like i understand the whole don’t hide vegetables in your kids food thing because you want your kid to get used to the taste of vegetables so that they can eventually just like them, but i’m pretty sure that everybody who says that has never tried to feed an autistic child vegetables

[ahqkas]

Hey so how do you think the bat boys would deal with having a s/o who doesn’t know they have hero identities yet and they find out s/o has some merch of their hero side at their house? S/o just thinks that heroes neat and uses one of the figures as a door stopper so the door does not slam when it’s windy and the windows open or paper weight for important paperwork so it doesn’t go flying everywhere?

♯SECRETS WE KEEP CLOSE TO OUR HEARTS

— gn!reader, kinda based it of the stuff i own !!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

. . . BRUCE WAYNE !

IT STARTED OUT LIKE ANY OTHER MORNING AT WAYNE MANOR. the first rays of sunshine peeked through the heavy curtains of bruce’s grand bedroom, the golden light pooling across the floor. you shuffled out of bed, your feet cold against the hardwood, and grabbed the nearest hoodie to ward off the chill. you’ve never been a morning bird. but what would change it now?

unbeknownst to you, bruce was already awake, freshly showered and shaved, nursing a steaming cup of coffee alfred made for him in the kitchen. he was going over the morning’s headlines of the gotham gazette when he heard your light footsteps approaching. a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. mornings like this—quiet, unhurried—were rare but cherished.

“morning,” you greeted, still groggy as you walked into the kitchen.

“morning,” he replied, glancing up from the paper. the casual warmth in his voice faltered the moment his eyes landed on your figure.

you were wearing that hoodie. black, oversized, and emblazoned with a bright yellow bat-symbol on the front. he recognized it immediately—he’d seen it on display in some tacky downtown gotham shop months ago. he’d even scoffed at the inaccuracies back then, not expecting you to own one, let alone wear it. and now you were draped in his merch.

bruce blinked, caught off guard, but quickly schooled his expression back into neutrality. “what are you wearing?” ( curiosity on the outside , panic on the inside ) . what if you knew of his nighttime activities?

glancing down at yourself and your choice of clothing, you tugged at the hem absentmindedly. “oh, this? yeah, i love it. it’s super comfy. got it on sale a while back.”

“you’re a fan of batman?”

you gave him a curious look. “who isn’t? he’s gotham’s hero. besides, the bat-symbol looks pretty cool.” you shrugged, heading to the coffee maker. “though i guess it’s a little weird wearing merch of someone who’s technically, like, a crime boss for good.”

bruce choked on his coffee, barely masking it with a cough. “crime boss?”

“well, think about it,” you teased, pouring yourself a mug of the dark liquid. “he’s got henchmen—like robin and nightwing—and a lair filled with gadgets. he’s just . . . on the good side.”

the batman fought the urge to laugh. he leaned back in his chair, observing you with a mix of affection and amusement. who knew he had such a lovie around his finger? “that’s one way to look at it,” he replied smoothly, though he couldn’t help but feel a small swell of pride.

you turned, leaning against the counter, and sipped your coffee. “why? you don’t like him?”

his brows arched, genuinely curious. “what makes you say that?”

“you’re awfully neutral about the guy for someone who lives in gotham. most people either think he’s amazing or a total menace. you’re, like, switzerland on batman,” you said, narrowing your eyes playfully.

“let’s just say . . . i have a unique perspective.”

. . . DICK GRAYSON !

IT WAS ONE OF THOSE LAZY AFTERNOONS WHERE THE TWO OF YOU HAD DECIDED TO STAY IN. the sun filtered through the curtains of your cozy apartment, casting warm, golden light across the room as you lay curled on the couch, scrolling through your phone, while dick was sprawled in an armchair across from you, pretending to do his own stuff at his phone but mostly watching you with a soft smile tugging at his lips.

everything was perfectly normal—until he noticed what you were wearing.

it was a t-shirt, oversized and clearly one of your go-to comfy options. but not just any shirt. emblazoned across the chest was the bold, angular symbol of nightwing, printed in that unmistakable electric blue. now that got his attention.

dick blinked, lowering the glowing screen slightly to get a better look at you. for a moment, he felt a mix of pride, amusement, and sheer panic wash over him. you had nightwing merch? did you know? were you teasing him? or had you just picked it up as a casual fan of blüdhaven’s vigilante? there were so many questions but so little answers.

“nice shirt,” he commented casually, though his voice had an edge of curiosity, asking you with saying the question out loud.

you glanced up, oblivious to his sudden attention. “oh, this?” you plucked at the hem and grinned. “yeah, i thought it was cool. i found it at this little street market the other day. plus, the guy’s kinda awesome, you know?”

he quirked a brow, trying not to look too amused. “kinda awesome?”

“okay, really awesome,” you gave in with a laugh. “i mean, he’s out there keeping blüdhaven from going completely off the rails. and unlike some other heroes, he doesn’t have a million-dollar budget or fancy gadgets. he just . . . handles it.”

your boyfriend leaned back in the plush chair, a smirk tugging at his lips. “sounds like you’re a pretty big fan.” talk about narcissism.

“well, yeah, who wouldn’t be? he’s smart, agile, and has a heart. plus, have you seen his—” you caught yourself, suddenly looking flustered and with a good reason. you were caught ranting to your boyfriend about nightwing.

“seen his what?” dick was intrigued even more now after your little slip up, leaning forward with his smirk deepening. oh, he was just starting.

you waved a hand dismissively, your cheeks flushing under his gaze. “nothing. forget i said anything.”

“uh-huh. sure. so, did you pick that shirt just because you’re a fan, or . . . ?”

you tilted your head, narrowing your eyes at his suspiciously amused tone. “what’s with the third degree, grayson? are you jealous or something?”

“me? jealous of a guy in spandex? never,” he replied with mock indignation. but the way his lips twitched betrayed his amusement—and the fact that he was having way too much fun with this.

“good,” you teased, leaning back into the pillows. “because if i ever run into him, i’ll totally make sure to tell him my boyfriend is completely secure and not at all threatened by a superhero.”

dick laughed, shaking his head a little. “oh, i’m sure he’d be very flattered to hear that.”

seeing you in his symbol was both endearing and a little surreal. part of him wanted to come clean right then and there, to tell you that the guy you admired so much was sitting right across from you, teasing you about your t-shirt. but for now, he decided to keep his secret.

still, as he watched you lounge in that nightwing tee, a soft warmth bloomed in his chest. if you only knew the truth, he had a feeling you’d still think he was kind of awesome—though he wasn’t sure you’d ever let him live down the spandex comments.

. . . JASON TODD !

IT WAS A BREEZY SATURDAY AFTERNOON, and the windows of your small apartment were wide open, letting the crisp, cool air in. papers were strewn across your desk as you worked on sorting through bills and notes. to keep the occasional gust from scattering everything, you’d grabbed the closest thing you could find—an action figure.

( not just any action figure, though. )

sitting proudly on top a stack of papers was a small, highly detailed replica of gotham’s infamous red hood, complete with his signature leather jacket, red helmet, and pistols. even the little red bat on his chest matched the original.

your boyfriend walked in, carrying takeout bags in both hands as he kicked the front door shut behind him, his boots making soft thuds against the floor. “babe, i got—” he froze mid-sentence when he spotted the figure perched on your desk. his eyes narrowed as he tilted his head, trying to process the absurdity of the situation.

no fucking way.

“is that . . . ?”

you glanced up briefly, barely registering his confusion. “huh?”

he set the bags down on the counter, crossed the room in a few strides, and picked up the small figurine. jason held it up, examining it with an almost comical mix of horror and amusement on his face.

“this,” he said, gesturing to the action figure like it had personally offended him, “is red hood merch.”

“yeah, and?” you replied nonchalantly, not looking up from your stack of papers.

“and?” he repeated, incredulous. “why do you even have this? do you collect vigilante merch or something?”

“no, i just saw it at some random shop a while ago. i thought it looked cool, so i bought it. plus, he’s kind of a badass.”

jason blinked, caught between pride and disbelief. “you think he’s a badass?”

“yeah, don’t you?” you finally looked up at him. lips curving into a teasing smile. “what, are you jealous of a figurine now?”

his jaw ticked, his expression unreadable as he turned the figure over in his hands. “jealous? no,” he muttered, though the tightness in his voice suggested otherwise. “i just think it’s funny that you’re using this to keep your papers from flying out the window. kind of disrespectful to the guy, don’t you think?”

you laughed. “oh, please. i’m sure gotham’s notorious anti-hero doesn’t care if his likeness is helping me with my paperwork. honestly, he should feel honored.”

“honored?” jason echoed, his lips twitching into a smirk despite himself. “yeah, i’m sure that’s exactly what he’d feel.”

you leaned back in your chair, watching him with a curious glint in your eyes. “what’s with the attitude? are you secretly a red hood fanboy or something?”

he rolled his eyes, setting the figure back down on your desk—albeit more carefully than he’d picked it up. “oh, yeah, totally. i’ve got a whole shrine dedicated to him at home.”

“hm, i bet you do,” you teased, grinning as you watched him retreat to unpack the takeout.

jason shook his head, his smirk lingering as he pulled out the food. internally, he was debating how to feel about the whole situation. on one hand, the fact that you admired red hood (even if you didn’t know it was him) was oddly flattering. on the other, the sight of his miniature self keeping your papers in line was downright hilarious.

as he set the table, he couldn’t resist throwing a final jab over his shoulder. “just saying, if you’re such a big fan, you should probably treat him with more respect. maybe let him do something cooler than babysit your bills.”

“oh, relax,” you shot back, laughing. “if he has a problem, he can come tell me himself.”

jason snorted, shaking his head as he brought the plates over. “careful what you wish for, babe.”

don’t be surprised when red hood comes knocking on your door, sweetheart!

. . . TIM DRAKE !

THE NIGHT WAS CLOSING IN and tim was stretched out on your couch in your apartment, his phone resting on his lap as we tiredly watched the tv. the soft hum of the crime documentary filled the background as you dug through your bag by the door, fishing around for your keys.

“found them!” you declared, holding them up triumphantly.

tim glanced over with a small smile tugging at his lips. you were adorable like this, excited over the smallest things. “that’s a lot of enthusiasm for finding keys.”

you walked over, jingling the keyring in the process. “it’s not about the keys, it’s about this little guy.”

you held up the ring, pointing specifically at a tiny lego figure hanging off of it. the miniature figure wore a domino mask and a red-and-black suit with a yellow “R” emblazoned on the chest—a miniature red robin.

your boyfriend froze on the spot. his brain seemed to hit a wall as he stared at the tiny version of himself dangling from your keys. the little figure swayed slightly, as though mocking him.

“ . . . where did you get that?”

“oh, isn’t it cute?” you beamed, completely unaware of his internal crisis. “i found it in one of those comic stores a while back. thought it’d make a perfect keychain. and it has! look at him, so heroic, guarding my keys.”

tim blinked, unsure whether to laugh or groan. heroic? lego him? guarding your keys?

“you’re a fan of red robin?” he asked carefully, tilting his head.

you shrugged, plopping down onto the spot on the couch beside him, immediately leaning into his warmth. “i mean, yeah. who isn’t? he’s kind of underrated, though, don’t you think?”

“underrated?”

“yeah!” you set the keys on the coffee table and turned to him. “i mean, everyone talks about batman and nightwing—and robin, obviously—but red robin? he’s like . . . the smart one. the strategic one. he deserves more credit, you know?”

tim raised an eyebrow, trying not to look too smug. “so, he’s your favorite, then?”

“mmm,” you pretended to consider. “he’s up there. though nightwing’s a close second. sorry, but the guy’s got moves.”

he snorted, leaning back against the couch. “can’t argue with that.”

“but red robin’s, like, the total package,” you continued, gesturing animatedly. “he’s clever, he’s got that whole detective thing going on, and he doesn’t get as much attention, so he’s probably not as cocky as some of the others.”

your hero boyfriend choked on his laugh. “not as cocky?”

“yeah, he strikes me as humble, you know?” you leaned forward, picking up the keychain again and holding it up like it was a sacred artifact. “plus, he’s got great taste in suits. red and black? iconic.”

tim bit the inside of his cheek, struggling to keep a straight face. “so you carry him around everywhere?”

“of course,” you said, grinning. “he’s like my little sidekick. protects my keys from danger. well, mostly from me losing them, but still.”

he shook his head, unable to hide his smile anymore. “you’re something else, you know that?”

part of him wanted to tell you right then and there that the figure you adored so much was literally him—but there was something too sweet, too hilarious about the situation to ruin it just yet. besides, you looked genuinely happy talking about red robin, and he kind of liked seeing himself through your eyes, even if you didn’t know it. he made a silent vow to tell you the truth soon. but for now, he let you keep your little lego protector, amused and endeared by the fact that you unknowingly carried a tiny version of him wherever you went.

[nightingale-prompts]

Mixed Signals AU part whatever

Danny: I can't tonight.

Tim: What do you mean you can't? I just got this vintage tool set to give you a lobotomy tonight.

Danny: I know, I know. I'd love to strapped down to a table while trying to bite your fingers off while you slam a nail into my eye socket but I have stuff to do in the morning. I tired too. You understand right?

Tim: No. But fine. I'll just shoot you in the forehead with a nail gun some other night.

-The next morning-

Danny: The synthetic blood has proven to to less drawbacks then tradtion transfusion. It's not shelf stable but it last slightly longer then in the fridge then blood packs. Uh...sir?

Tim:*nodding off* Uh..yes Mr.Fenton?

Danny: Are you alright you seem distracted.

Tim: I'm fine, just thinking about something. Please continue.

Danny: Right...

-Later-

Danny: My boss is so boring. And so dry. Can't believe I gave up a lobotomy to present him with this ground breaking research. He can't even pretend to be excited.

Tim: I wonder what Phantom is doing. What is so important that a freak like him would turn down getting his head split. God, these people are agitating. Can't wait to let off some steam tonight. Did I make sure to leave those tools in water to rust?

[sprytesukii]

18+ | dry humping with nagi ……. | cw. afab!reader (no pronouns used), dry humping (duh), finger sucking, other stuff lol | ~800 words

you’re usually the one in the relationship to initiate your sexual interactions. if you were an outsider, you’d assume it was because nagi was lazy or didn’t have much of a sex drive.

the reality is closer to the opposite.

nagi almost always wants to have sex. his baseline levels of horny are at a degree most people have to work up to, so he tends to keep it to himself. lets his partners project their sexual preferences onto him and, if necessary, supplements with daily (often multiple times a day) jerk off sessions.

it’s never really been a problem for him. sure, his nonchalant-bordering-on-disinterested aura attracts a lot of people with low expectations and even lower sex drives, but he’s been managing.

masturbating works. so. it’s fine.

or, it was, until he met you.

you’re the only one to - for lack of a better phrase - match his freak.

he doesn’t know how you clocked him — it’s like you smelled the big dick, marathon sex, overstimulation is just a suggestion from a mile away and his sex life has been completely transformed.

still, old habits die hard, so he finds himself waiting for you to initiate which leads you both to moments like this.

you jump him the second he gets home from practice, pushing him against the door and nipping his bottom lip.

a little noise of pleasure escapes him and he can feel your pleased grin. he’s dizzy with it, with you, and even though the door has just barely closed behind him, his cock plumps up in his sweats.

his duffel bag drops to the ground with a thud. as you kiss down the side of his neck, salty with the sweat from practice, nagi belatedly tilts his head away from you, effectively dislodging you from your ministrations.

you pull away easily, but when you look up at him with blown pupils and a little pout, he almost folds all over again.

“i’m gross,” he says instead, sounding a little more breathless than he’d like. “and you haven’t even kissed me yet. properly.”

the pout in your lips stretches into a wide smile, as you stand on your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around his neck. this time, he goes easily, your noses brushing against each other.

“you know i like the way you smell after practice sei,” your nails drag against the nape of his neck. he shudders. “sorry for not kissing you. won’t happen again.”

it most certainly will, nagi knows it, knows you, but he doesn’t care, not when you’re pulling him in and pressing your lips together.

in the back of his mind, he’s aware his lips are chapped and that he probably tastes like the lemon lime electrolyte powder he mixes in his water bottle, but it all fades as your lips move against his.

it’s chaste at first - a gentle moving, a little sticky from your gloss - but it quickly picks up steam.

your tongue darts out to trace against his lower lip, the wet drag sending shivers up his spine, and he opens up to let you in.

you slip your tongue into his mouth, curling it around his own in a slick slide that feels like sex itself.

kissing you is all-encompassing. it chokes nagi up, makes it hard for him to think, to focus.

he pants, open mouthed, letting you get your fill. you trace his molars, his canines, the roof of his mouth, until he’s so hard that he’s leaking through his boxers and sweats.

desire rises up in him, like a tidal wave, urging him past his usual complacency to take over. he grabs your face, holding you in place so he can ravage your mouth.

you like it when he gets like this. eager. hungry. even now, nagi can feel the choked sound you let out into the kiss, can feel the way your knees buckle, giving him more of your weight.

he takes it easily, his free hand gripping the hair at the nape of your neck while the one on your face slides down to span from your cheek down to your throat, keeping you still.

you moan again, this time more audibly, and nagi’s head spins. the push and pull you two have makes him feel crazy, hornier than he’s ever been every time you do this.

“mmh-“ you pull away from him, your lips making a wet smack, a string of spit connecting you. nagi hones in on it, bringing his thumb up to break it. feeling possessed, he pushes the digit past your lips, stroking it against your tongue. the tongue that was just in his mouth. his cock throbs.

“seishiro,” your words are garbled around his thumb so he reluctantly pulls it out, but something compels him to bring it, soaked in your saliva, to his own mouth.

nagi sucks it and the taste of you mixed with the heat of him has his eyes fluttering shut. he hears you whimper at the sight he must be making, but self-consciousness can’t even touch the realm you’ve created. it’s only the frantic tug to the hem of his shirt that breaks the moment, his eyes opening to half mast.

“wanna hump you, sei.”

a bolt of heat strikes him right between the legs. he takes a steadying breath. then another. he feels high, even though he’s never been (athlete’s body and all that).

all he can manage is a nod, his self control slipping even though he’s holding tight to it with both hands. you’re delighted at his agreement (as though he would say no to you - as though he even could), and you take his hand, tugging him to the couch.

nagi goes where you direct him easily, sitting on the couch where you quickly straddle his lap.

he thinks you’re going to kiss him again, suck on his tongue like you would his cock, but you surprise him.

you remain sitting upright and you just look at him. your eyes are hazy and unfocused from the arousal, but the gaze is heated. you keep staring as you slowly, deliberately, grind down against his bulge.

it feels good — better than clothed grinding should. he can feel the heat from your core, your own sticky, wet arousal that’s seeped through your bottoms meeting his.

nagi has to fight to keep his eyes open as his hands clamp around your waist, pulling you down more firmly against him. you gasp, his tip nudging your clit, and your hands thread tighter in his hair.

“you’re so big,” you whimper, bearing down against his lap. “i always forget.”

he knows that can’t possibly be true, not with how often you do this (he stretched you out on his cock this morning before practice, the early morning sun just barely filtering through the curtains), but it flatters him anyway. makes his dick kick in its confines.

nagi doesn’t bother answering you, the need to cum and to make you cum outweighing anything else at the moment. his grip tightens as he thrusts up against you, dragging your clothed cunt up and down his length like a toy.

you’ve gone quiet too, now, besides soft moans and choked gasps. with every rut against you, the closer he gets to getting that release.

he can tell it’s not going to take much for you — could tell that by the way you attacked him the moment he got home — by the way your leggings have gone entirely tacky at the center, pulses of slick pouring free.

it’s a heady feeling, that he’s making you feel like this. he bites his lip while picking up the pace, moving you against him as though he’s trying to fuck you through your clothes.

nagi’s hitting your clit with every pass, if the way your legs shake where they hold you above him is any indication. one of his hands slips beneath your shirt to cup a tit, his thumb rubbing against your nipple, and that’s it.

“sei—“ it’s quiet and shaky, the cry of his name, as you cum all over him and yourself. he humps you through it, watching you, unable to look away.

you’re beautiful like this. in the throes of pleasure, caused by him. it’s a feeling only eclipsed by watching your face as he cums inside, marking up your womb. he’s the only one who gets to do so, who has ever done so, and that knowledge makes him feel insane.

when he gets his, though, it’s near silent. it creeps up on him, watching you, but it’s overwhelming.

he nearly blacks out with the force of his orgasm, his cock kicking out ropes and ropes of cum into his boxers, seeping through the thin fabric.

cumming with you is always like this. now, he doesn’t even bother masturbating, because it’s not even worth it. not when you make him feel like this.

it takes a minute for him to come down, and when he does, you look smug as hell.

“came a little soon didn’t you?” you’re like a cat who got the cream (pun intended), and it would maybe be endearing if this wasn’t nagi you were talking to.

he rolls his eyes, before flipping you off his lap and onto your back on the cushions, your breath leaving you in one go.

you look up at nagi, incredulous, and he stares back at you as he grinds down onto your sodden cunt through your clothes. you let out an overstimulated hiss, even as your legs fall open, giving him more access.

“oh,” you moan softly, and he forces a harder thrust against you, his arousal creeping back in like a well worn coat. your eyes widen slightly and nagi feels his blood boil.

yeah. oh.

[monstrousgourmandizingcats]

i watched conclave and now I really want to know more about all the drama with cardinals, how do you find out about that kind of stuff?

Ohhhh boy. Where to even begin?

Well, to start with, a lot of the cardinals in Conclave are based on real people! Bellini is obviously Carlo Maria Martini (right down to having a surname that's a mixed drink), especially in the book, where he's apparently Italian rather than Italian-American (I love that, unlike with Lawrence, who's also Italian in the book,* they didn't change his name; Stanley Tucci is eminently capable of playing an ItAm guy named Aldo Bellini <3). Martini was a "liberal" Archbishop of Milan who for much of the 90s was widely expected to succeed Pope John Paul II but ended up stalling out at the 2005 conclave.** Tedesco has a lot in common with Raymond Burke, an archconservative cardinal who's still alive and very vocal in the media, although Burke, conversely, is American rather than Italian. (America unfortunately has a very conservative local Catholic Church in general these days.) Tedesco and Burke even look similar, right down to the campy, "muffled sounds of 'Good Luck, Babe!' playing in the distance" fashion sense and body language. Tremblay has a similar career trajectory to Marc Ouellet, who, like Tremblay, was widely respected and seen as pretty middle-of-the-road until serious scandals started coming out. Adeyemi doesn't seem to be based on or inspired by any one real person, but the virulent homophobe who isn't that reactionary otherwise is a very common type of sub-Saharan African cardinal, perhaps most prominently represented currently by Fridolin Ambongo Besungu. Like with Adeyemi, I can see Ambongo picking up steam but then imploding over the course of the next IRL conclave, although it would be uncharitable to Ambongo to assume it would be for the same reasons. And so on.

(Benitez is an ideal, rather than someone inspired by a real person or ideological type, but there are cardinals who've had similarly high-stress and altruistic career and life trajectories, like Marco Zenari, Pierbattista Pizzaballa (which is seriously his name),*** and, in fairness to him, also Ambongo, who is Congolese and is regularly physically threatened by political and paramilitary forces within the DRC.)

As to how one learns more about this, you could start by setting news alerts for some of these people's names--Matteo Zuppi, Luis Antonio Tagle, Pietro Parolin, Peter Erdo, and Victor Manuel Fernandez are other names to potentially watch--or reading some books that have been written recently about the current politics of the Church, the Curia, and the Francis papacy. There's one called In the Closet of the Vatican that is incredibly scurrilous, as its title would suggest, but a rip-roaring read if you're not too concerned about forming possibly-unfair negative opinions of some of these guys. There are also writers like Austen Ivereigh and (gag) Edward Pentin who've made whole careers of being Vatican Inside Baseball Understanders, especially since Pope Francis was elected in 2013.****

In general I'd say Conclave is a very good representation of the way these people think and act, especially the constant tension between venal ambition and genuine belief that they are participating in a divine agency in the world. The tendency in non-Catholic and even some Catholic circles is to assume that only the former is present, but people are complicated.

I hope some of this helps, anon!

*I looked it up and in the book he's called Jacopo Lomeli. I've never seen this surname before, but apparently some real people do have it.

**The Catholic Church has its own ideological spectrum and there are ways in which liberal, progressive, conservative, etc. are not very useful terms, but for broad purposes they work here.

***Patriarch of Jerusalem, the only Palestinian cardinal (cardinals are counted as "from" the countries that they lived in when they became cardinals, not necessarily the countries they're from originally; in his case his country of origin is, unsurprisingly, Italy). As you might imagine, he's been in religious news a lot lately.

****Francis, or Jorge Mario Bergoglio as he was then, is widely believed to have been the runner-up at the above-mentioned 2005 conclave, which produced Pope Benedict XVI.

[smueivrse]

﹙💌﹚ ➳ PLAYING WITH HIS HAIR

  𓍯𓂃  till starring as : your beloved boyfriend!

𐔌 💬 contents: till being himself , probably ooc? , reader is a female + she is affectionate, this was supposed to happen in the original ( canon universe ) but wiege destroyed me so this is modern, college au!

     ━━━ ANON REQUESTED: hello! can i please request a till x fem!reader where reader keeps trying to play with his hair, but till is flustere and stuff, trying to stop reader and leans back too much to the point he falls on the ground, with reader on top of him? ty :D

WORD COUNT. 2K

I. 001

Affection has never been TILL’S strong suit, he gets shy easily when people try to get affectionate with him. Leaving him a blushing, red mess. TILL prefers being alone, wanting to have some alone time with himself, maybe practice with his guitar and compose some new songs— so him getting a significant other was rather a surprise both to him and his circle of friends.

and his significant other was overly affectionate, bless his heart because the feeling of you hugging, kissing or even touching him makes his poor heart race a thousand miles.

you were just too much for him, the feeling of your soft lips on his cheek, your hands on his body ( not in a sexual way ) clinging onto him was just not making it easy.

he doesn’t know how much of these affections he was receiving from his beloved girlfriend he can take.

II. 002

Class ended five minutes ago and TILL was still outside of the University, sketching underneath a tree as the sound of the tip of the pen hitting the paper filled his senses. the howling of the wind was mixed by the sound of the pen and paper together creating a tranquil atmosphere for TILL.

though, too absorbed in his daily habits he didn’t notice your figure approaching him. your steps were light and quiet as you made your way towards the silver-gray haired boy who was so caught up sketching to notice your presence.

Normally TILL would notice you immediately since he was always on guard but something about him relaxed and so at ease in his own little bubble makes you feel all warm and fuzzy, he's just so cute.

you let out a soft giggle as you squatted down to his level, still not getting his attention even with the shift of your body - but you know what can get his attention.

leaning in your lips were just inches away from touching his cheek, with a smile on your face you pressed a kiss on his cheek - effectively getting his attention as his body went rigid from the contact.

his face went crimson shade as he whipped his head towards your direction only to be met with your face, a huge, sweet smile plastered on your face as he shouted, his voice shaky while he touched the place on his cheek where you had kissed.

“What was that for!?” he yelled, his lips trembling as he proceeded to touch his cheek and the spot you had placed a kiss, his words only earned a giggle from you “trying to get your attention” you replied simply while you proceeded to giggle as your hand went to his hair, running your fingers through his soft silver-gray locks.

TILL involuntarily jolt at the sudden contact of your hands in his hair before he pushed it off ( not in a harsh way, more like frantically ) as his face went deeper shade of red “h-hey! Don’t t-touch my hair so sudden—!” he stuttered earning a laugh from you as you tried to touch his hair again.

”come on! it’s soft, i wanna touch it!” you teased, your hands trying to get in contact with his hair as TILL proceeded to swat your hands away, mumbling lines of ”stop it!” “stop trying to touch it!”

eventually the amount of teasing and trying to get your hands off his hair you lost your balance and landing on top of your boyfriend, your arms are either side of his head, you perched on top of his as your faces were only inches away from each other.

silence falls upon the two of you before TILL eventually heats up more, his face crimson red and steam coming out of his head by how hot his face is as he thought oh boy..

ᥫ᭡. 𓍯 RESOURCES . . filter , art, png ♪ © LAUSAIVRSE, 2025.

[omgfangirlland]

A neglected reader x batfam where she's dating klarion 👀.

Like.. Imagine, the reader was loved by Bruce and everyone in the fam but ever since the death of Jason, they begun to forget about her because of their grief. They distanced themselves without even noticing, busying themselves with works and crime fighting.. Not noticing that a certain someone had been distancing themselves.

Reader is the type of person who doesn't like to chase after someone. If she feels that she's being pushed away then she'd just back away.. Of course she'd try to communicate with them but if it keeps failing then she'd stop. She also noticed how her father took in Tim and that was when she gave up.

She'd often sneak out of the mansion and that's how she met klarion. Reader somehow befriended both Child and klarion. Her friendship with klarion became something more and then BOOM! She's dating him (very odd trio considering that child and klarion are both chaos Lords and have a very poor relationship with one another but let's pretend that reader somehow befriended the two of them 🙂)

-🔱

I'm really trying to do these in order, but damn, do some of the newer stuff you send unsmooths my brain-

This is me when I saw the Lost Twin Sister of Bruce, and One Night Stand asks you sent:

Post scriptum- Slighty murderous reader- unintentionally murderous if you will :))

I heard your Child and Klarion- I'll get there- I just want to get this little thing outta my head.

After Jason died and everyone grieved in the worst way possible, maybe you included, you were understanding, taking care of Bruce and Dick even if they were short, but that quickly ended when Tim came around, took Robin's place and started getting the families praise for what she had been doing before he came.

Any pity you had for them died and got buried with Jason, and you've become a silent menace.

So, when newly escaped from the assassin's league Jason saw your 16 year old self grumbling to herself while chipping at a ledge Bruce and Tim started using as their perch point for surveilance- he couldn't help but smile. It was methodical enough for the bats to think it happened naturally, a bit there, a bit more on the chips that already existed- it'll be sturdy enough to hold Tim, but as soon as Bruce lands, they'll both go down.

You flinched at his voice from beneath you, leaning over a sturdy part of it, only to be met with a red helmet across the building, the man standing on the balcony in one of the smaller apartment buildings.

"...Mind your own business, motorbike fetishist."

Jason snorted as you went back to work, cleaning up. "I don't think the bats would apreciate you messing with their shit." And you just huffed. "Well, I don't appreciate them sending my boyfriend to hell. And this is public property."

"Boyfriend?" Jason didn't come back from death just to have you thinking you're grown and, good heavens, DATING some lowlife in prison. "Minding your own business will keep you alive, newcomer."

The anger only got worse when he found out how they've been treating you, and that the boyfriend was actually a Lord of Chaos, and they didn't even know it.

Speaking of- that's about how you met Klarion and Child.

They were ignoring you, so you took the chance to let out some steam. It was small inconveniences at first, all left shoes going missing, switching around the place of things on their belts, mixing red food dye in the softener.

Alfred knew it was you, he saw you standing in the middle of the kitchen and staring at the cupboard, and the next hour he heard a crash and found Tim crying, in one hand his coffee mug, in the other the cupboard door- matter of fact- every cupboard and countertop door was on the floor as if Tim simply opening one created a domino effect. He didn't say anything. If they couldn't tell it was you, that was their problem.

That escalated the more Tim took over, starting to act like he was the only one Bruce needed. Maybe it was a mix of jealousy and anger, resentment- you weren't sure, but it did get worse, both your feelings about them and your mischief.

Klarion already had his eyes on the family, on Bruce, so when his senses tingled when one of his brats essentially became Discord reincarnated, he was giggling up a storm- he didn't care about the undead one anymore- you were more fun.

He enjoyed it- watching you put sticks in their lives, creating cracks in Bruce's relationship with Selina, making Tim so paranoid that every day he's on the edge of a breakdown, Dick's life was a mess around this time anyway, the little pushes you gave from afar just made everything thumble down.

He didn't expect the help he gave you for free, pushing things towards you and giving you ideas in your dreams, and he sure as hell didn't expect to do such a human thing as falling in love.

It made him cackle. Him? Falling in love with a human? He'd laugh until his stomach hurt just to ignore the longing in his chest. But he couldn't watch from the shadows forever, it wasn't his style, and when you almost slipped into the Lazarus pit as you were fucking around with it- he simply counldn't have hisfavorite human die.

You became friends. At least in your mind, he was already gathering information on binding your souls to one another. Not just one way, he wanted to show you how willing he was to trust you with such an important part of him.

Soon enough, you met Child, and initially, she "befriended" you just to annoy Klarion, seeing him throw tantrums over you being busy with her was entertaining. She had to reevaluate the choices she made that eneded with her in your room, watching some shitty horror movie as you painted her nails.

She knew she was in deep when you looked at her with a smile, calling her and Klarion your best friends. She hated it. She was so angry after, mainly at how easily she let her guard down around you, how happy she got when around you.

She got why Klarion was so enamored with you. Child took it upon themselves to protect you... Protect to a lord of chaos meant something different- especially adding in Child's hate toward Klarion.

The witch boy knew the blonde was trying to mess with his relationship with you, jokes on them both, you already knew they both were crazy and enemies, so you really didn't believe anything that they said about the other one.

And above all, Teekl was utterly obsessed with you. The familiar was on you whenever it could, refusing to leave your lap most of the time and purring constantly in your presence. Poor thing would get so annoyed once your relationship with Klarion became official, and he'd try to touch you while the cat was in your embrace.

Bruce didn't notice shit. But John Constantine sure as hell did- well, he saw the cat and connected the dots.

At first, he just thought the thing bonded to a human by accident and decided to stay for the warmth and cuddles. He's seen you dote on the thing like it was a baby, for fuck's sake. And then he met Klarion and his familiar. The same one you took care of.

Yeah, he wasn't going to have Bruce's kid on his mind- Klarion's probably draining her energy or whatever his little evil self is doing (like whining and crying your ear off when the Young Justice League don't want to play with him but are entertaining Shazam)

And thus, why you are upping Bruce's and Tim's misfortune, even if you know that your lover will be back tomorrow.

Jason uses this card in the big fight with Bruce, and the man has to stay awake the whole night just to think of a way to bring up to his daughter this- I mean- what do you even say to your teen daughter dating a 16 million years old Lord of Chaos?

...

He goes out as Brucie that night, getting so hammered that he barely remembers the discussion. He freezes when he sees you with that blasted cat, feeding it caviar. Alfred's look says that Bruce is on his own with this.

[shybluebirdninja]

Takeout Trauma

Summary: Logan orders food but can't understand the concept of “spicy” and now he's drinking milk straight from the carton.

Pairing            : Logan Howlett x Gf!Reader Note                : fluff

The smell of takeout fills the air—a mix of savory spices, fried goodness, and that unmistakable kick of heat. You’re sitting at the kitchen counter, casually scrolling on your phone, when you hear a low, irritated grumble from the other side of the room.

Logan’s standing by the fridge, his flannel sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing forearms that are probably a little too perfect for their own good. His jaw clenched, lips tight. He’s holding a takeout container in the other, glaring at it like it personally offended him.

“Babe,” you call out, raising an eyebrow, trying not to laugh. “Are you okay?”

Logan doesn’t respond at first. He just stands there, staring down at the now very suspicious-looking food on his plate. Steam rises lazily from it, the scent of peppers and something fiery hitting your nose even from across the room.

He finally moves, his shoulders tense, and with a growl, he slams the takeout container down on the counter with a heavy thunk.

“This—” he motions to the food like it's an enemy in a bar fight, “—is too damn spicy. What the hell is 'mild' supposed to mean if this burns like the damn sun?”

You stifle a laugh, biting your lip. “Didn’t they ask you if you wanted spicy?”

Logan glares at you, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Yeah, they did. And I said no. They asked if I wanted ‘mild.’ Thought that meant something normal. Not... this.” He gestures angrily to the food, nostrils flaring like he’s about to start a war with the takeout place.

Oh, yeah. He’s suffering.

You lean against the counter, folding your arms across your chest. “Well, babe, I told you before. Spicy food here isn’t like what you had back in the cabin. This is, like, next-level stuff.”

He lets out another frustrated grunt, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. “It’s ridiculous. I’ve fought wars that were easier than this.”

You can’t help it anymore—you laugh, and Logan shoots you a look, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes, something close to amusement. Still, he turns away from you, yanking open the fridge door with more force than necessary. The cold air hits him in the face, but it doesn’t seem to cool him off. He grabs the carton of milk, pops the cap, and without any hesitation, brings it straight to his lips.

You raise an eyebrow, watching as he guzzles down half the carton, milk dripping down his chin in the process. His Adam’s apple bobs with each swallow, and for a moment, you’re more distracted by that than anything else.

“Really?” you say, trying to sound exasperated but failing because you’re still half-laughing. “Drinking it straight from the carton?”

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, still scowling, but you can see the corner of his lips twitching. “What? It’s milk. Does the trick.” He slams the carton back in the fridge, letting the door close with a solid thud.

You shake your head, walking around him to inspect the food on the counter. The takeout container is practically glowing with how much red pepper oil is slicked across it.

“This,” you say, poking at it with a fork, “is what happens when you think you can handle the spice.”

Logan grunts, stepping closer to you. His hands rest on the counter on either side of you, effectively trapping you between him and the plate of dangerous food.

“It wasn’t marked like that on the menu,” he mutters, his voice low, like he’s trying to justify the whole situation. “False advertising.”

You tilt your head back to look at him, grinning. “You’re just mad because food kicked your ass for once.”

Logan’s eyes darken, and he leans in just slightly, his breath warm against your neck. “Keep talkin’, darlin’. You’re gonna end up eating this stuff just to prove a point.”

You laugh, pushing against his chest playfully. “I’m not the one trying to win a food fight, babe. But seriously, next time, just ask for plain. Or, you know, let me order. I’ve mastered the art of not burning my face off.”

He straightens up, crossing his arms, and the look he gives you is pure Logan—half-annoyed, half-amused, but mostly trying not to laugh at himself.

“I can handle my food,” he insists, but there’s no real conviction in his voice.

You arch an eyebrow. “Clearly.”

You turn to grab your own takeout container from the counter, opening it carefully and taking a small bite. It’s perfect—just the right amount of spice. The food’s warm, savory, and doesn’t set your mouth on fire.

 “How’s yours?” he asks, but you can see the wheels turning in his head.

“It’s great,” you say casually, popping another bite in your mouth. “Not too spicy.”

Logan stares at you for a beat, then sighs, his shoulders dropping in defeat. “Swap with me.”

You laugh, holding your container out to him. “Admitting defeat?”

“Call it what you want,” he grumbles, grabbing your container and handing you his. “But I ain’t about to waste perfectly good food.”

You take his container gingerly, half-expecting it to burn your fingers just from the heat. “You sure you don’t want me to grab you another drink?” you tease, watching as he digs into your much milder meal.

Logan shrugs, chewing thoughtfully. “Nah,” he says after a moment, wiping his mouth with his hand. “This is better. But next time, babe, you’re ordering.”

You grin, leaning into him. “Deal. But, babe?”

He looks down at you, raising an eyebrow.

“You might wanna clean up the milk you spilled everywhere.”

[writersdrug]

Ok and this is my last one sorry for spam

I’m a sucker for jealousy, but like not wanting to admit it, so for alpha omega thing he could notice that someone else smells like her (clothes got mixed together in laundry/she bumped into him on accident) and he goes on overdriv trying to a) show off b) harass other dude c) make her smell like him so much that’s all she smells like

No please come back I love you these-

Kinda nsfw

It's happened before; König's fallen victim to the occasional sergeant, too impatient to wait for an empty washer, taking the Colonel's laundry out while it's still sopping wet and tossing it into the dryer on someone else's cycle. It pisses him off to no end (again, he despises it when people touch his things). But he never manages to catch the cluprit; there are no cameras by the laundry room, and the scent of the aggressor is long gone by the time König pulls his load out of the dryer - now he smells like someone else (which is also an inconvenience, since his pretty little omega will throw a fit).

Not much he can do about it.

One particular day, he's rifling through the dresser you share with him, looking to see what you have so he can buy you what you don't (and maybe looking for a pair of panties to stuff in his pockets). He opens the drawer that holds your shirts - as soon as he starts rummaging through them, he smells something... not you, not him. Someone else.

He huffs, picking up one shirt after the other and sniffing them, aggravatedly tossing them behind him when he doesn't find the scent. It's not until he finally pulls out a shirt - no, not just any shirt. His favorite one, his shirt that you wear to bed with nothing else but your panties - that's the shirt that smells like someone else. Not you, not him.

He knows it's not your fault - you practically spend every second of the day with him. It only makes sense, that you'd fallen victim to the laundry aggressor.

He hears the shower turn off in your shared bathroom. He stands up slowly as you hum, putting on your sweatpants and one of König's shirts (it was an unspoken thing between the two of you, where he'd wear a shirt for a bit, then you'd steal it from the top of his laundry basket and wear it for the night - but that didn't mean anything, you swear you're still not happy with the arrangement).

You open the bathroom door and gasp, steam billowing out as you see all of your clothes on the floor. "König - what the hell are you doing?!"

He looks at you - the scent of your sweet shampoo and vanilla body scrub only adds fuel to the fire, complimenting your natural, caramel scent. His pupils dilate, fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides. He doesn't just see you - he sees his omega, his partner - the thought that you could have smelled like another Alpha had him reeling.

You can smell the heightening of his scent - he's angry, you can tell by the bitter edge to it - but it's missing the typical stench of iron. Instead, it's musky, smokey, and strong. It makes your omega purr, and you're digging your nails into your own palm to keep from baring your neck for him.

"König?" You ask, your voice meek and soft.

He's in front of you in two strides, grabbing you by your waist and shoving you back into the bathroom. You shriek when he hoists you onto the counter, cupping the back of your head before it can hit the mirror. Your mind is getting foggier by the second; your body is buzzing and weightless as he presses your face into his neck.

Spicy, warm cinnamon and oak fall upon you like a weighted blanket. You whine into his neck, overwhelmed yet needing more. Your hands grip his shirt tightly as you try to pull his broad chest closer to you - you want to feel his heart beating against your skin, warm muscles pressing against your palms.

He pulls back to kiss your cheek - it's the first time he's kissed you at all. He continues to lay them across your skin; your forehead, your other cheek, your temples... his hands grip your hips as he moves down to the thin skin of your neck. He lays a kiss against your throat, lips chapped and scalding, then dips his nose to your scent gland and inhales deeply. He groans, cock throbbing in his pants as you wash over his senses. He fights the urge to lick, to bite, to sink his teeth into the junction of your neck until you cry out-

He wants you more than anything - but not now, not like this. Not as a display of his claim, not to show you off as you wear his scent and his mark. He wants it when you want it, when you come to him, as both you and your omega.

He squeezes your hips, thick fingers tense in your soft flesh as you slide a hand up his clothed chest. With a sigh, he pulls away - you let out the most needy whine that he's ever heard, and his Alpha is rearing its head back and beating against the walls of his brain to take over. But he resists, standing up to his full height and looking down at you.

You're frazzled. Your pupils are blown wide open, body slouched against the mirror and legs dangling from the counter. You're panting, the rise and fall of your chest showing just how much your nipples perked to attention over the past minute. You're looking back at him with flushed skin and a confused, yet aroused expression.

"Wh... what was that?" You say breathlessly.

"Tut mir leid, mein liebe..." he mutters, bowing down to kiss the crown of your head, gently this time. "I don't know what came over me." He does, but he'd rather not have to explain it to you. Instead, he scoops up the puddle that is you, carefully carrying you from the bathroom and into the dorm.

"May I?" He asks, nudging his head to the bed. It's technically his, but you've nested in there as of recent, and he doesn't want to overstep any boundaries, especially with you so blissed out at the moment. But you nod, and he climbs into the nest, keeping you snug against him.

When he finally settles, and you feel the heavy exhale of his breath on your scalp, you speak. "Did something happen?"

He thinks for a moment. "No - but I'll be doing your laundry from now on, schatz."

He squishes you into his chest, signaling that the conversation is over - he won't say anything else about what happened. You're not complaining; you're a pile of happy omega, packed into your nest with your Alpha, and he just absolve you of a chore?

Hell yeah.

[sillysealll]

Dickroy hcs..?

Ohoh, I got a ton !

This gonna be embarrassingly long and split into categories

Silly-and-not-so-silly HCs :

- Roy always falls first but Dick always falls harder

- Roy was Dick’s bi-awaking, Roy on the other hand sort of always knew that he was into both genders

- Thanks to @skittlejustwannahavefuns, Roy’s half-Irish and gifted Dick a claddagh ring and they still both wear it to this day (they change the sense whenever they need to)

- One of their love languages is to teach their mother tongues to the other. It means that Dick spent hours teaching Roy romani and a mix of Spanish and calò, while Roy would teach Dick both Irish and Navajo

- Roy is afraid of heights but he still brought Dick on unofficial dates on top of the highest buildings in whatever city they were operating in. He tried to pretend he was fine but Dick absolutely knew and found that hilarious every time so he just let him do it (blame @empressyu123 for this one)

- They spent hours working on fighting strategies and technics that could mix both of their strengths

- Sometimes, after every Titan would have left their hideout and it was just them, Roy would play random jazz musics on their speakers and invite Dick to dance on the training mat

- As the only normal humans on the Titans most of the time, if not all the time, they relate to each other in a way no other members can with each of them (doesn’t mean they don’t have strong bonds with the other titans at all, but there’s just some stuff you can’t always relate with some but can with others)

- They can’t escape from the other’s knowing gaze and even if they try to pretend and hide their problems, the other always call him out

- Current dickroy dynamic would be one of an old divorced couple. They keep arguing but you can see just how much history they have together

- Before all the shits they both went through they were more like an old married couple

Dickroy’s numerous issues HCs :

- Because of the elite society Dick was thrown in, he developed a bad case of internalised homophobia as he wanted to fit in so hard and have a similar play-boy persona like Bruce’s (who definetely has had a few flings with men but Dick only ever saw how mean some people were about it)

- This internalised homophobia is what makes Dick pushes Roy away and be on the defensive with him (also because the guy can be insufferable) but it’s also what brings them closer once Roy understands Dick’s problem

- Surprisingly, Dick was the first one to say "I love you"

- They never established that they were together at any point because they’ve never discussed it either. They’re on constant on’s and off’s and even after all these years neither know where they stand with the other

- They can be the worst for each other but they’ll always come back to the other. They’re like magnets, the sun and the moon, stuck in each other’s orbits and they cannot escape

- If I had to use one word to describe their relationship it would be : bittersweet

- Theyre like a broken record, doomed to repeat the same music that slowly grows out of synch until it starts over

- Dick has that stupid defence mechanisms where he acts like a bitch and pushes people away and if at first it worked especially well on Roy, now the guy is completely immune to it so if Dick really wants to escape, he has to draw fists

- On the other hand, one of Roy’s defence mechanisms is his fists and Dick has become an expert at knowing when Roy is using it or when he just want to blow off some steam after a long day

Dickroy and Lian HCs :

- Dick helped Roy with Lian for the first few months of her life with her dad. When they would walk with Lian in her stroller people would sometimes congratulate them for their adorable baby. Neither ever corrected them, they thought it was funny as hell

- When Lian didnt want to sleep, Roy would use Dick (without his knowledge) by saying that "If you don’t go to sleep, Uncle Dick will not teach you that trick he promised to teach you the other day!" It worked everytime

- Dick and the Titans are responsible for half of Lian’s ugly shirts in her wardrobe. Roy actually tried to dress his kid well but failed because of them

- Dick and Donna were the first two people outside of the Arrows to know about both Lian’s death and return

- it eats Dick alive to know that Lian was right under his nose for all those years and he didn’t know

- Roy moved to Gotham City instead of the Titans to stay with Lian (current Roy is a fucking fraud, he told her nothing would separate them anymore and then he’s off to the titans ??? Be fr). It’s kinda how current Dick and Roy start to really reconnect after all those years they spent away from the other (and maybe they fall in love all over again who knows)

Ok now without transition

Dickroy’s respective deaths HCs :

- Dick learns about Roy’s death wayyy later than everyone else because he was Ric at that time (I think ??) and once he discovers it, he’s CRUSHED. It’s like he’s re-living Jason’s death all over again because just like for Jason he missed his funeral, nobody told him and he discovers it on accident

- It’s during that time that his family kinda really understand the nature of his bond with Roy. Jason and Dick find themselves both in front of Roy’s grave and Dick is wearing an old coat he kept from Roy’s outsiders days and Jason is like "huh.. ok I see"

- When Roy comes back, Dick believes he’s hallucinating him and kinda freaks out when he realises he’s not

- Officially, Dick never blamed Wally for Roy’s death. Unofficially however… he just got that lingering anger and resentment toward him until Roy comes back (doesn’t mean he cut ties with him. They were still friends but there was this unspoken feeling floating around that used to make every of their interactions suffocating)

- Dick’s death was devasting for Roy as well. He felt terribly alone without his daughter already but this was the nail to the coffin. He was very close to relapse again because of it

- When Dick comes back, he doesn’t tell Roy or the Titans that it was Bruce’s idea first but since they know him, they push for answers and eventually Dick caves in and now everyone is mad at Bruce

- Roy was just mad about the fact that it took so long for Dick to reach out once his mission with Spyral was over but never about the fact he faked his death (even when he didn’t know the actual reason)

Annnd I think I’ll stop there because damn that’s already a whole book

Hope you enjoyed my silly headcanons about Dickroy !! Please free me from them

[rainrot4me]

Rain’s Kinktober 2024 - 05

Clockwork x Gender Neutral Reader - Jealousy/Friends w/ Benefits

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Jealousy, toxic, cunnilingus, possessive, friends with benefits, miscommunication, domination, angry sex, degradation

Tag: #rainykinktober2024

Words: 2.0k

A/N: Let’s ignore the canon fact that she doesn’t like to be called Natalie anymore… It’s weird to write out someone moaning the name ‘Clockwork’ HAH

Jingling through your keys, you finally found the one to your front door and shoved it into the lock, pushing the door open. The warmth of your house was much preferred over the chilly night air outside, shedding your jacket once you stepped in and hooking it onto the coat rack. Your friend stepped in with you, closing the door behind herself.

It was hard to see, shoveling around in the dark in search of the light switch, flicking them on once your fingers brushed it. Everything was how you left it the night before, walking towards the kitchen as you tossed your bag onto the counter.

“You can just toss your stuff in my bedroom.”

She nodded, turning down the hall and hauling her backpack with her.

You went about turning your old coffee pot on, pushing your sleeves back as the stout smell of coffee brewing warmed the air. In the mood for a sandwich this late, you collected a few pieces of bread from the pantry and all the other things you preferred, setting everything out, enough for the two of you.

You and your friend from work were planning a little late-night drinking and movies, her boyfriend freshly dumping her and leaving you to console her. You didn’t mind, more than willing to spend a night talking crap and relaing. It was going to be a good night. But as you reached for a knife in the neat knife block you kept, you flinched as you noticed one was missing.

Stepping back, you looked around, searching to make sure you hadn’t unknowingly moved it.

But when you heard the small tap of the blade against something stiff, you turned, pressing your back against the counter.

“Hi, angel.”

“Ah, Natalie… You scared me.”

The girl stood relaxed against the doorframe leading into the kitchen, her arms crossed as she tapped the blade's edge against the clock face lodged into her eye socket. You cringed at every tap, back stiffening straight as you watched her, contents of your meal long forgotten. She had broken in…

Clockwork was no stranger in your home, or to you. Being childhood friends, you had seen the thick and the thin of it, always more than willing to lend your aid when all the shit with her life went down. What neither of you really expected, was the staggering amount of times she would find her way into your bed.

It was nothing serious, just time to blow off steam and be gone by morning, back to whatever life she had away from you. Natalie had her life and you had yours, occasionally mixing the two when you both needed it.

But that didn’t stop the uneasy feeling you got when she pressed off the frame and began to saunter towards you.

“Who’s that?” She slid past the counter, angling the blade of the knife to tap against the polished wood, tapping rhythmically.

“Just a friend.” You could hear her coming back down the hallway, light footsteps pattering closer. You gave a weary look to Clockwork, fingers gripping onto the counter as she appeared in the doorway. She stopped, stunned that another person had appeared, rightfully so. You were just hoping Natalie didn’t decide to turn around and give the poor girl a full view of her left eye.

“[Y/N]? Who’s this?” The air was tense as you looked towards her, weary eyes faking a half-smile. Clockwork was staring daggers down at you, arms crossed and fingers gripped tightly around the hilt of the knife, a warning. You knew what it meant.

“Uh, an old friend. Sorry, but… do you think we could do this another night? I’ll make it up to you.” You gave a sad smile, internally begging her to just agree and leave, glances quick between her and the brunette hovering above you, her demeanor growing impatient.

“Uhm… Sure, yeah. I’ll just, uh, see myself out…” You let out a sigh as she stepped back down the hallway and collected her stuff, a concerned final look as she waved goodbye and quickly left. Clockwork didn’t move until she heard the rumble of your friend’s car leaving the driveway, finally sliding the knife onto the counter as she stepped closer, invading your space.

“What was that for?” You asked, exasperated at her rudeness. You went to press off the counter, ready to kick her out yourself when a firm hand gripped the underside of your jaw. You gasped, fingers pressing into your cheeks and keeping you looking at her face, a scowl plastered as Natalie leaned down to your level.

“Wanna really tell me what was going on here?” Her grasp tightened, a little whimper slipping past as you clawed at her arm.

“I told you, she’s just a friend-”

“Oh, like how I’m just a friend? That’s cute. Were you planning on showing her your idea of being friendly?”

She was mad, eye glaring and teeth gritted as she taunted you. She smiled at your pitiful attempt to struggle against her. You had no idea, but Natalie had just gone through a bad night and all she wanted was to bury herself between your thighs and forget about it.

But when she heard a second pair of footsteps follow you in, she couldn’t help the swell of jealousy that took over her. You didn’t belong to her or see yourself in a relationship with her, but that didn’t stop the possessive tendencies the brunette experienced. You may not be hers, but that cunt sure was. Clockwork was just plain angry, now.

“Nat…” You tried to groan out, but she was shoving you down onto your knees, hand still holding firm on your jaw. Watching through weary eyes, she began to undo her belt, slacking the leather to the side as she unzipped her ragged jeans. It was hard not to whine and struggle against her, your little noises egging her on.

“Sorry? What was that?” She was pushing her jeans down to her midthigh, leaning back against the counter as she dragged your head closer, tangling her hands against the sides of your head. You gasped, hands stabilizing yourself on her knees as you knelt before her, face level with her boxer briefs. “I think you should thank me for not killing her in the first place.”

Reluctantly, you nodded, curling your fingers into the waistband and tugging them down her thighs. You pushed her jeans down to her ankles, shaky hands gripping her knees as she spread her legs further, smiling down at you.

You didn’t get a minute to think before she was pulling your head in, shoving your lips against her warm cunt and sighing above you. You got to work, knowing full well that only doing what she said was the way to get her out of this fit. Spreading your lips, you lapped your tongue through her folds, her hands tight on your head as she groaned, pushing her hips further.

Running your tongue over her clit, she's hissing, angling your head up so she can rut her hips down. She’s practically bullying her cunt onto your tongue, the muscle running through her folds and collecting her slick with little consideration for you or your ability to breathe.

“Such a fuckin’ brat. You seriously- ah- seriously think you can just dismiss me for a friend. I didn’t know friends begged each other to fuck them, angel.” She was being mean and she knew it, your pouty eyes telling her you didn’t mean any harm; didn't stop the swell of anger she felt when she saw you inviting someone else into your home. This was hers.

You whine as you suck on her throbbing clit, her arousal coating your lips as you drank her up. You want to pull back and spew your apologies, pleading that nothing was going to happen, that you belonged to her. But she kept her grasp tight and your face shoved into her cunt, your tongue pressing into the tight ring of her entrance as she groaned. She tasted so good, your fingers gripping her legs as you nudged your jaw open further to soak against her swollen folds.

“See? You’re so easy. It takes nothing before you’re begging to please me like a dog, hah-” Despite her harsh words, her thumbs brushed your cheeks, pushing your hair out of your face as she kept her eye on you. You stared with fluttering eyes at every desperate push of your tongue, leaving her groaning and hissing as she rutted against you.

Your cheeks are flushed and your eyes are watery, but Clockwork persists, chasing that twinge in her gut at the way you whine and huff against her cunt.

“So, tell me. Were you- hah- were you planning to show her how good your tongue feels?” You’re shaking your head, trying to at least as Natalie’s fingernails press against the back of your head, tangling into your hair.

“Or, maybe how nice that ass looks after it’s all red with handprints…” The hungry smile plastered on her face has you whining, fingernails digging into the muscle of her legs as you pressed your knees into the tile of the kitchen floor. Your jaw was beginning to hurt, lips suckling on her clit as Clockwork’s thighs tense around your head.

“No- M’promise- Nat-” But her head is tilting back, she writhes as you moan into her wet cunt, the vibrations sending white-hot pleasure running up her spine.

“Tell me who you belong to, then, angel.” Clockwork knew she didn’t really own you, too caught up in her life and past to settle down and really take you for herself. But this: this view, your body, your mouth, yeah- those were hers. She wasn’t going to share, no matter how crazy she sounded.

“Mnh, you- Just you- Mnn-” You bully your tongue back into the tight stretch of her cunt, her walls fluttering around your tongue as you nudge your jaw up, shoving your nose against her clit.

“Sorry- aha- come again?” She was close, the way her thighs trembled and voice became shaky giving it away.

“Nata- Natalie- All yours-”

Maybe it’s the sickly sweet way you moan her name against the slick of her puffy cunt. Or maybe it was the way you ground your jaw as you plunge your soft tongue deeper into her plushy walls. But most of all, it was how you looked up at her, bright eyes fluttering with eager intent, filled with nothing but want.

Because she’s cumming, and cumming so messily all over your mouth. “Fuck- Yeah, mhn-”

But you don’t stop, continuing to dip your tongue into the velvety flush of her cunt as Clockwork strains above you, clenching the back of your head tight against her. It finally takes her dragging you back by the hair, her heavy eyes and flushed face bending down to yours. Her slick is glossed so prettily all over the bottom half of your face, a thumb coming to swipe at your lips before she’s shoving her lips against yours. You both groan, tangling your hands into each other's hair as she drags you back up to your feet.

It’s a blur of haze as she’s dragging her jeans back up, wrapping a tight fist around the back of your neck and holding you tight against her.

“I think I deserve to watch this ass bounce on my strap, yeah? What’dya say, angel?” A lazy nod and you’re being tugged down the hall towards your bedroom, cold coffee long forgotten.

It was toxic, and nasty, and possessive as fuck, but you both knew it was perfect for each other. Your lives were so different, so intense, so if you could spare your nights for just a while- being a little jealous wasn’t so bad.

Natalie kept a hold on what was hers, and maybe, you could be one of those some day, too.

Thanks for reading!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

Thanks to my wonderful editors @h3llw1 and @solarbites!

[whereslynx]

heyyyyy I am new here, but i love all of your fanfics They are amazing and I've been looking for someone who's been writing for spooky from on my block and I love it so much. Can you do a fic where y/n is ovulating like heavily 😩 but Oscar everytime she trys to have sex he tells her no because he's been stressed out from all the gang stuff until one day she just starts yelling at him because she want him so bad but he won't let her touch him then he gets mad and is like 'fine Is this what you wanted' then he like picks he up and throws her on the bed and fucks her roughly and he talks her through it the whole time?

Ik this is a long ask but I feel like you would write this story the best ty sm bye<333

-🪽

a/n: guys, y’all don’t have to apologise about long requests!! i love when you guys are detailed about what you guys want because it helps me feed y’all HAHAHAHAH. BUT YESSS, LOVE THE SPICE AND THANK U POOKIE FOR THE SUPPORT!!!

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The tension in the air was thick, the kind that had been brewing for days now. You could feel it every time you looked at Oscar, every time his broad shoulders seemed weighed down with stress, every time he brushed past your advances with a tired, “Not now, mami.”

But “not now” had stretched into what felt like forever, and you were done being patient.

Oscar sat on the couch, his head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. The weight of the world seemed to be on his broad shoulders, the stress of the Santos and Prophets and keeping his loved ones safe taking its toll. He could feel your eyes on him, watching him with a mix of concern and frustration.

You stood in the doorway of the bedroom, arms crossed, your cheeks flushed a deep pink. The ache between your legs was becoming unbearable, your body crying out for his touch, his love, his seed.

You'd been dropping hints for days, weeks even, but Oscar had brushed you off each time, too consumed by his own thoughts and worries.

It started subtly - a suggestive comment here, a lingering touch there. You'd lean in close when talking to him, letting him catch a whiff of your perfume. You'd wear his favorite outfit, the one you knew made your curves look irresistible. At night, you'd sleep in his t-shirts, the scent of him surrounding you, fueling your desire.

One evening, as you cooked dinner together, you "accidentally" dropped your apron, letting it pool around your feet. You bent over slowly to pick it up, making sure he got a perfect view of your lace panties. He'd cleared his throat, trying to hide his reaction, but you saw the way his pants tightened.

Other times, you'd be a bit more direct. Like when you straddled his lap on the couch, tracing his defined chest with teasing fingers. "I miss you," you'd whispered, rolling your hips against his. He'd gripped your waist, his breath hitching, but still held back.

Or the time in the shower, steam fogging up the glass. You'd let out a loud, needy moan, hoping he'd hear you through the running water. But he just sighed, shaking his head as he washed himself, ignoring your desperate plea.

But nothing worked. No matter how much you tried to seduce him, to make him see how much you needed him, he kept his distance. Until that fateful day when you couldn't take it anymore - the ache in your core, the throbbing between your legs, the constant, gnawing hunger for his touch.

"Oscar," you said, your voice trembling slightly. "We need to talk."

He looked up, his dark eyes meeting yours. He could see the desperation etched on your face, the way your body seemed to be practically vibrating with need. But he was just too drained, too exhausted to give in to your desires.

"Not now, amor," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm not in the mood."

Your frustration boiled over, months of pent-up longing and lust threatening to consume you. You stomped over to him, jabbing a finger at his chest.

"No, that's not good enough anymore!" you shouted, your face inches from his. "I need you. I need this. And you can't just keep brushing me off because of the fucking Santos!"

He only sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Mami, I’m not pushing you away. I just… I can’t right now.” he grumbled, his head down as if he refused to face you.

“Can’t or won’t?”

That made him pause. He stared at you, his expression unreadable, but you didn’t give him a chance to respond.

“I’m losing my mind over here!” you burst out, your voice trembling with frustration. “I want you, Oscar. I need you, and you keep shutting me out like I’m some kind of distraction.”

His jaw ticked, but he stayed silent, which only made your frustration grow.

“Do you even want me anymore?” you demanded, your voice breaking just slightly. “Because if you don’t—”

“Stop.” His voice was low, commanding, and it sent a shiver down your spine. He stood slowly, his full height towering over you as he closed the distance between you. “Don’t ever say that.”

You held your ground, even though your heart was pounding. “Then stop treating me like I’m invisible, Oscar.”

Something in his expression shifted—something darker, more intense. His gaze swept over you, lingering on the way your chest rose and fell with each shaky breath. “You really wanna do this right now?”

“Yes,” you said firmly, not backing down.

He stared at you for a long moment, his jaw working as if he was trying to decide whether to argue or give in. Finally, he let out a low, humorless laugh.

“Fine,” he said, his voice dropping to a growl. “Is this what you wanted?”

Before you could respond, he reached out, sweeping you up into his strong arms. He carried you to the bed, throwing you down onto the bed with a thud. He crawled over you, pinning your wrists above your head, his hips settling between your thighs.

"I'll give you what you want," he growled, his erection already straining against his jeans. "I'll fuck this needy pussy so hard, you won't be able to walk straight for a week."

"Please..." you whimpered, arching up against him desperately.

"Shh, I got you," he murmured, his hand slid down your body, his calloused fingers skimming over your sensitive skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, yanking them down your legs in one swift motion. The cool air hit your overheated flesh, making you gasp.

“Look at this pretty little coño," he purred, his thumb brushing against your dripping slit. "So wet and ready for me already."

He circled your clit with the pad of his thumb, applying just the right amount of pressure to make your hips buck off the bed. His other hand slid under your shirt, squeezing the soft weight of your breast, kneading it in his large palm.

"Fuck, I've neglected this pretty pussy for too long, huh?" Oscar growled, tugging your bra down to free your aching nipples. He dipped his head, his hot mouth enveloping one straining peak, sucking hard. His tongue swirled and flicked, teasing the sensitive bud until it throbbed almost painfully.

"Oscar!—" you cried out, fisting your hands in his shirt, holding him close.

He nipped and sucked at your breasts, lavishing them with attention until they glowed red and your skin tingled. All the while, his fingers never stopped their tortuous teasing of your pussy, dipping inside to stroke your slick walls, curling to hit that perfect spot that made stars explode behind your eyelids.

"Gonna fuck you so hard," he breathed against your skin, his voice rough with desire. "Fill this pussy up so full of my semen, hm? Is that what you want, mami?"

"Yes, please.." you begged, wrapping your legs around his hips desperately. "I need it inside me. Please, Oscar."

He chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating through your chest. "You’ve been so patient, baby. Gon’ give my good girl everything she needs."

Oscar sat back on his knees, his fingers still pumping in and out of your dripping cunt. He used his other hand to undo his jeans, freeing his massive, throbbing erection. It slapped against his stomach, already leaking precum, the musky scent filling the air.

"Fuck, you've been such a good girl, waiting so long for me," Oscar praised, his voice a low, approving rumble. He looked down at your face, taking in your flushed cheeks and lust-glazed eyes, a smirk playing on his lips. "Couldn't ignore you any longer, could I? Not with this greedy little pussy begging for my cock."

His hand gripped the base of his thick shaft, aiming it at your entrance. With a swift, powerful thrust of his hips, he buried himself inside you to the hilt. A guttural groan tore from his throat at the exquisite sensation of your silky walls gripping him like a vice.

"Dios mío," Oscar gasped, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he savored the feeling of being inside you again. "So fucking tight and wet. You’re sucking me in, baby."

He started to move, withdrawing until just the tip remained inside before slamming back in, bottoming out with a forceful thrust. He set a hard, fast pace, the bed frame creaking and slamming against the wall with each powerful pump of his hips.

"Yes—yes, yes—" you cried out, your nails digging into his back. "I've missed you so much."

Oscar leaned down to capture your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing your cries of pleasure. His tongue dominated yours, stroking and twining with your own as he continued to pound into you relentlessly.

"That's it, baby. Take this cock," he growled against your lips. "Wanted this for so long—fuuuck, fuck—Needed to show my pretty girl how much I miss her.."

His hand slid under your ass, tilting your hips to meet his increasingly forceful thrusts. The new angle allowed him to drive even deeper, striking that perfect spot inside you that made you see stars.

"Fuck, I can feel you squeezing my cock," Oscar panted, his lips brushing against your ear. "This coño was made for my dick. Gonna fill this hungry little hole to the brim, baby."

"Please, please fill me!" you whimpered desperately, your body shaking with pleasure as he chased your orgasm. "I need it, Oscar. I need your cum—"

"Gon’ give it to you then," he promised darkly, his thrusts growing more erratic as he neared his own climax, “You’re doing so good, baby, keep going for me.”

Oscar's hips slammed into yours with brutal force, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. “Eyes on me while I fuck you, amor,” His thick cock pistoned in and out of your sopping wet cunt, stretching you deliciously around his throbbing shaft. Each powerful thrust drove you closer to the edge, your body trembling with impending release.

"Fuck, you're so goddamn tight," Oscar grunted, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Gonna ruin this perfect little pussy. Fucking destroy it."

He captured your mouth in a filthy kiss, his tongue plundering and claiming every inch of you. Biting at your bottom lip, he sucked on it hard, pulling it between his teeth with a low groan. His other hand slid up to wrap around your throat, squeezing just enough to make you lightheaded with lust.

"Doing so good, baby," he snarled against your lips, his hips jackhammering into yours. "You want me to cum in you? Pump this greedy cunt so full of my thick seed, till it be leaking out of you for days? Want everyone to know that this hole belongs to me?"

"Yes, yes, please!" you babbled mindlessly, your eyes rolling back in your head as he fucked you stupid. "Want your cum so bad. Want you to fill me up. Breed me—"

Your pussy clenched and spasmed around his pistoning cock, the slick walls rippling along his shaft. The pleasure built to a fever pitch, your clit throbbing almost painfully with every brush of his pelvis against it. Oscar could feel your body tensing, your breathing growing shallow and fast. He knew you were on the verge of a massive orgasm.

"That's it, cum on this dick," he commanded harshly, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass as he pulled you harder against him. "Squeeze the fuck out of my cock, baby. Milk me dry."

With a keening cry, your body seized, your back arching as your climax crashed over you like a tidal wave. Oscar fucked you through it, grunting with the effort of his thrusts as he chased his own release. He could feel your pussy gushing around him, drenching his cock and balls with your slick arousal.

"Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck.." he roared, his eyes squeezing shut as his cock throbbed and jerked violently, erupting like a volcano deep inside your spasming cunt. "Take it, baby," he grunted, his voice echoing off the walls as he pumped wave after wave of molten hot, thick spunk directly into your fertile womb. "I’m gonna fucking ruin you."

You could only moan in ecstasy, your body shaking and trembling as you felt Oscar's potent cum painting your walls white. Jet after thick jet of jizz pumped into your hungry snatch, the sheer volume of it forcing your belly out slightly. It was pure, unadulterated bliss, being bred like a bitch in heat by your lover.

Your eyes rolled back, tongue lolling out as you moaned in rapture, feeling Oscar's potent cum flooding your insides, claiming your unprotected depths. It was so much, so intense, your flat belly bulging slightly with the sheer volume of his virile release. You could feel the obscene heat of it searing your most intimate places.

"Mnfh—Oscar!—" you mumbled, a moaning mess to the point where you couldn’t even fathom the idea of words other than his name, gripping his strong biceps for all you were worth, pulling him impossibly deeper into your hungry snatch as it milked him for every last drop.

"Gon’ paint your fucking womb white, baby. Knock you up like the cock-crazy slut you are."

Oscar grunted and shuddered above you, sweat dripping down his heaving chest as he rode out the aftershocks. He captured your mouth in a filthy, sloppy kiss, biting at your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. "Dios, what a good little cum slut you are," he growled into your mouth. "Milking my cock for everything it's got. This greedy pussy was made to be bred, no?"

You could only whimper and mewl in dazed elation, your mind completely fucked stupid on his seed-soaked cock. Your legs wrapped around his waist, locking your hips together as if afraid he might pull away.

After the storm of emotions had passed, the room was quiet, save for the sound of both your heavy breathing. Oscar didn’t move immediately, his body still pressed against yours as if he needed a moment to regain himself. You both lay there, tangled in the sheets, the heat of the moment still lingering between you, but now, the sharp edges of tension had softened.

Slowly, Oscar shifted, pulling away just enough to meet your eyes. His gaze was intense but different now, filled with something tender you hadn’t expected. He brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle, almost reverent.

“Shit, mami,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, “I didn’t mean to push you like that. I… I just had to clear my head, but you’re right. I shouldn’t have been shutting you out.”

You exhaled a shaky breath, the emotions from before still a little raw. “It’s okay,” you said, your voice quiet but steady, “just… don’t do that again.”

Oscar nodded, his fingers gently tracing the curve of your jaw. “I won’t,” he promised, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “I’m sorry for not being there for you when you needed me.”

You didn’t say anything right away, letting the silence stretch between you as you let the weight of everything settle. You could still feel the thrum of the connection you’d shared, but now it was quieter, more intimate.

He shifted again, pulling you closer this time, his arms wrapping around you in a protective, almost possessive way. You rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, grounding yourself in the rhythm of it.

“You good?” he asked, his voice soft as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, closing your eyes. “I’m good.”

Oscar let out a breath, the tension that had been in his body easing as he held you. His hand traced lazy circles on your back, his touch soothing as he waited for your breathing to slow. After a moment, he pressed another kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for just a beat longer than usual.

“Next time, we’ll talk about it before I do something stupid,” he said quietly.

You smiled faintly, still feeling the warmth of his arms around you. “Next time,” you agreed.

[mlmxreader]

Date Night | Elliot Stabler x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Elliott stabler

85"You’re adorable when you’re concentrating"

148"I'm taking you on a date, a real date"

289Person A stealing person B’s clothes and getting caught ❞

: ̗̀➛ You and Elliot rarely get to go on nice, proper, date for once but as usual, something gets in the way.

trigger warnings: ̗̀➛ brief non-graphic nudity, swearing

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

spotlight fundraiser : ̗̀➛ Help Evacuate Mai for Essential Medical Treatment

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

The weight of a bullet proof vest still cast a shadow over Stabler as he made his way through the small flat; he would stop every now and then to look into the various animal tanks and see whatever was out. A few snakes, a scorpion, a lizard. It wasn't unusual.

He had grown used to it and, even then, it was one of the reasons why the kids loved coming here; they loved helping feed the animals and getting them out to hold them - so Stabler made his peace with being around them... even if the scorpions did give him quite a jump.

"Dad's best friend", as the saying went, and it never failed to make Stabler smile.

He draped his coat over the bannister, kicking his shoes off near it, and dared to slowly move towards the bedroom door; he could hear a soft grunting, along with harsh breaths, and swallowed thickly.

But then he heard the plastic snap, and allowed himself to cross the room over to you; you were on your back with your head at the bottom of the bed, holding up a little plastic figurine as you tried desperately to fix it.

It belonged to one of his kids, and he appreciated that you were making an attempt; gently, he lowered your wrists above your head, and knelt down to be eye level with you.

"You're adorable when you're concentrating."

You smiled back, welcoming it when he leaned over to kiss you; your hands went to the sides of his head, pulling him slightly closer as you tried to make it last for more than a few seconds.

Slowly, Stabler moved until he was straddling your waist, his hands planted on the mattress either side of your head as he hummed under his breath. "How you been? C'mon, just talk with me for a sec."

You grinned as you let your hands hold onto his shirt tightly. "Not bad, me and Olivia went to get coffee today... how'd your thing go?"

He grumbled, shaking his head. "I don't really wanna talk about it."

"You never have to," you told him softly. "Did you eat yet?"

He shook his head. "Not tonight, I'm taking you out on a date, a real date this time - not a rugby match or a movie or whatever we did last time."

You thought for a moment, trying to remember. "I think our last date we went to the pub, watched a rugby match, and throughout the entire thing I had to explain the whole game... as well as who you're supporting."

He grinned, a warm feeling in his chest for a moment; Stabler always liked to keep things simple and, well, cost effective - and it was just as well. You hated it when he got you gifts, when he offered to treat you like other people treated their significant others and got the flashy, finer things.

But so did he.

It was perfect that you both preferred the quiet and the simple.

"C'mon," he laughed softly, gently patting your cheek. "Get dressed and I'll met you in the kitchen."

You groaned, mockingly protesting as you tilted your head back and pouted. "Do I have to?"

"Yes!" Stabler murmured as he kissed you softly.

He left you with a final kiss, heading to the kitchen and making both himself and you a decent cup of coffee; whatever they served at the precinct was coffee by name, but it certainly didn't taste like it. It was like a mix of cardboard and steamed water.

The good, cheap, stuff that you kept stocked up was far better, and he knew exactly how to make it the way you liked it.

But when you didn't come back to him once he had finished making it, he was a little concerned.

Stabler called out to you as he made his way back to the bedroom, pausing on the stairs for a moment; you didn't answer, and he grew a little concerned.

He continued, pausing by the door and letting his instincts take over; he listened closely, but heard nothing.

He pushed the door open; you were lying naked on the bed, just about to pull on one of his shirts and steal it from him, again. He stole a more than quick look, trying not to grin.

Usually, Stabler would have closed the door and hurried back to the kitchen, but he cleared his throat and tried not to laugh when he heard you rush to put your trousers on.

Once you gave him the go ahead, he entered the room at last, and smiled.

"You're such a perfect gentleman," you told him, tugging the shirt on and letting it drape around your shoulders.

Stabler tilted his head from side to side for a moment. "Oh, I'm not. I snuck a peek, and... wow."

You laughed, shaking your head fondly and gripping his shirt as you hummed softly. "Why am I not surprised?"

He shrugged, putting an arm around you and backing you up against the bed. "Can you blame me?"

You couldn't help it, groaning softly when Stabler started to kiss your neck softly; your hand went to the back of his neck as you spurred him on, whimpering softly when he pulled away.

"You gonna give me my shirt back?" He murmured against your skin softly.

You shook your head, cupping his jaw gently. "You're gonna have to make me, detective."

Stabler grinned, gently starting to push it from your shoulders as he slowly lowered you down completely; your back on the mattress as you told him to keep going. To keep going and going and going.

"You can't keep stealing my shirts," he told you with a soft, playful, growl. "I'm not gonna have any left to wear to work."

"Is that a problem?" You asked, tilting your head. 'It wouldn't be for me."

Stabler shook his head fondly, placing his hand on your chest and feeling your heart rate for a second. "C'mon, we have a date. We can fool around later."

[takes1]

bratty tsukishima x manager!reader enemies to lovers

warnings. none for this part. stay for steamy stuff in later parts ;) content. tsukki not knowing how to handle a crush/enemies to lovers!/manager!reader/gn!reader for this part, could change?/passive-aggressive tsukki/daichi being a friend/suga being a friend/future smut/future sexual frustration notes. i'm branching out! first haikyuu fic! not done with mha but it just doesn't motivate me to write rn :( links. masterlist for mha. my ao3. PART TWO HERE. PART THREE HERE. PART FOUR HERE. FINAL PART HERE. haikyuu collection

You were walking back with a full case of freshly mixed sports drinks for the team when the whistle blew for a break. The entirety of Karasuno was on you at a moment's notice, rowdy despite their long practice.

A plethora of 'thank you's and appreciative mantras filled your heart as you were able to hand out bottles.

The first to swipe them were the first-years that sprinted up to you, trying to beat each other in their own intense, but good-natured race. Then the less excitable members, like your fellow seniors, that gave you slower and sincere thanks, shoulder pats, and tried to engage you in conversation.

Except, you had to make sure everyone got theirs. Which left the bane of your existence.

He sucked his teeth and looked away, disinterested in hydrating as soon as he realized you were handing them out.

"Tsukishima, come on," Suga heeded a subtle warning, but his mistake was turning away to speak to the others- and not following up to ensure the first-year did this simple task.

You weren't going to hold up a bottle for the kid all day. This was ridiculous and beneath you. Your arm slapped down to your side.

Everybody knew he had some issue with you. His disliking for you was nearly automatic upon being placed on the team, but it had somehow grew to a new intensity each day you had to interact.

Little instances like this one added up quick. And it didn't take long to notice, especially amongst your longest friends.

It boiled down to something about you being enough to piss him off, much like Hinata and Kageyama of his own class. For those two, it was relatively harmless bullshit. For you, the structure of the team hinged on him listening to you as his senior and manager.

"I really don't know what's gotten into him-- I-I'm so sorry," Yamaguchi spoke through gritted teeth.

He would've blabbed for much longer on his friend's behalf like usual, but he stopped short with a chill when he found your mirrored cool, upward stare.

"You don't need it anyway," You set his full bottle back into the case with a loud thump, "You haven't even sweat today."

It was a tad bit of an exaggeration, but his growing habit of letting certain spikes through had been prevalent enough to catch your attention. It bothered you because not only did he so quickly run out of steam -much sooner than the others who got the same court time as him-, but Coach didn't always notice his faults the same way you could.

You didn't try to look at him more than the others, truly. Your job hinged on being objective and you liked to think you did a great job at that. Lately though, it'd been tough not noticing every little shitty idiosyncrasy of his.

The way he hit the ball. The curve of his body into the net when he leaped into the air. The angle he liked to hit. The side he favored. The amount of steps he took before he jumped.

He wasn't as skilled as he let on. They could all use improvement, but his cockiness really ate at your patience. The others at the very least pretended to listen to you, and most took your criticism as a chance to improve. God forbid you comment on his faults, though.

The last time you did, his face had frozen with that ugly, twisted expression for the rest of the match.

Almost as soon as your accusation met his ears, that unbelievably fake calm demeanor crumbled into one serious mixture of aggravation.

His jaw tightened and he glanced around your stone-cold stare.

Bitter, he almost seemed to loom over you as he wiped his forehead with an oversized palm. His gaze remained unfaltering, ever so hateful, and he squeezed a closed fist in between you.

Sweat drip, drip, dripped onto the gym floor.

Head cocked, he opened his mouth to speak-- but Daichi slapped a mighty hand onto Tsukishima's upper arm. His forced grin -a welcome sight at this point- came into view.

"Thank you for volunteering to mop today, Tsukishima!"

Sometimes, when you had these types of exchanges, everyone else just sort of... fell away. Despite some polite cover-up conversations, most of the other players had a sensitive ear to his attitude problem with you. They were practically trained to listen to you speak-- this, compounded with Tsukishima's quiet demeanor, and the gym usually fell just short of completely still.

The blond's scowl elicited your covered laugh as you were pulled away. Suga warned you quietly to not get too caught up in talking to the first-years, but it was difficult to focus on his words.

"Thanks," Was punctuated with the sound of Coach's whistle- he gave you a sympathetic expression and ran off.

You didn't realize how worked up you got until they all returned to the court to finish their spiking drills. They formed up in a neat line, one after the other.

Clipboard gripped a bit tighter, you took a big breath in. Then, out. Your heart settled.

Nobody likes confrontation.

SLAM!

Not unless they're a masochist or something.

SLAM.

Why did he have to pick on you? And not some bigger fish that was actually on the team? Your heart squeezed from the burden of it all.

S L A M !

Tsukishima turned to move to the back of the line, but made sure to catch your eyes before you could even think to ignore him. His expression was indescribable but nothing short of trouble.

@ me to be added to the taglist for this fic series! i have at least 4 more parts i want to do that will be substantially longer

[poisoned-fruit-prose]

𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞.

synop: you bring viktor a cup of coffee and have a spiritual experience.

wc: 424.

includes: a disgusting amount of fluff. happy ending au. hexcore was absorbed by you and viktor and somehow you both made it out alive and well.

author's note: yeah, if you couldn't tell, that ending quote had me fucked up. i've already posted today but i'm unwell and churning out stuff left and right. hope you enjoy.

“Viktor,” you whispered softly.

The scientist groaned as his eyes blearily squinted open. His neck hurled disapproval at him, prompting him to raise it off the lab table with another, more pained noise. You were already massaging the back of it with a hand, the other setting down a hot cup of coffee beside him. The steam billowed in the early morning light pouring from the windows.

“Take a break. Just five minutes, to talk to me,” you murmured. You sunk into your seat beside his—the seat that he always kept there for you—and threw a blanket around your bodies. Viktor leaned over to kiss your cheek, then rested his head on your shoulder with a deep sigh.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, voice gravelly from sleep, as he cradled the coffee in his hands. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Mmm, who knows?” You began rubbing his back. “You know I hate speculating. It just takes time away from the present.”

Viktor used to disagree with you; as a scientist, he had to battle that school of thought. Now, he saw your paradigm. Your world. He understood. The arcane you harnessed gave you knowledge you never would’ve, of futures and pasts and separate timelines where things weren’t as they were here—now. Your destruction of the Hexcore was the hardest thing you ever did but now you both sat side by side on your home plane and in the stars. No one would ever know what you did; that alone saved humanity and gave you a gift that would die with you.

Viktor’s spirit sparked where it touched yours. You both closed your eyes and focused on that; the coffee, the blanket, the lab fell away to stars and infinities and magic.

Only you.

Only me?

Only you, could show me this.

Viktor’s words did what they always did—put tears in your eyes and a smile on your lips. The softness he spoke them with belied his unending love for you, his boundless appreciation for the life you led with him. Despite all the bad, all the terrible things that happened over your lives, he would choose this one over and over again.

He would always choose you.

You leaned over and kissed him, on both planes, and you melded into each other like molten glass. When you parted, you were always changed, always mixed with more of the other, always hesitant to let go.

Five minutes were one thing to any other person. You lived two lives just over a cup of coffee.

dividers used: sparkles • star

[mingi-s-dimples]

Study buddy or... fuck buddy? - Yeosang

KINKTOBER DAY 8- REQ. BY anon

~"yeosang x reader; please add squirt and virgin reader?"

pairing: yeosang x fem!reader

genre: 18+, college au

summary: anatomy lessons weren't this.. practical in the past.

wc: 2.7k

warnings: college au, friends with benefits, protected sex (we cheered !), cumming, squirting, first time sex, yeosang is a lil gentle boi at first, gets a lil bit rougher throughout the moment, he's a damn tease, aftercare, unedited, completely consensual, making out, for sure forgot something.

Author's Note: Hm. I liked writing this one. Was a lil bit harder at first cause I didn't quite have ideas for the plot but.. the ironic situation was that I got this idea while actually studying anatomy... sigh, to be fucked senseless while in break from studying... slams desk. Anyways! My loves, hope you like it!! 🙂‍↕️💖

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the member in any way.

The soft hum of fluorescent lights filled the classroom, the buzz faintly drowned by the chatter of students packing up their bags. Another long day of classes had come to an end, and the weight of exhaustion was heavy in the air. You let out a slow sigh, stretching your arms over your head as you leaned back in the chair. Mind buzzed with information from the anatomy lecture—complex structures, nerves, and muscles all swirling together in a chaotic mess.

Being a medical student was no joke. Between the countless hours of lectures, labs, and the never-ending stream of exams, it felt like there was hardly time to breathe, let alone focus on anything outside of school. Relationships? That was out of the question. Who had time for the emotional rollercoaster of commitment when you could barely keep up with the textbooks?

"Hey," came a familiar voice from beside you.

You turned your head to see Yeosang slipping into the seat next to you, his expression as calm and composed as ever. His light blonde hair fell just slightly into his eyes, and he pushed it back with an absent-minded flick of his hand. Even after hours of classes, he still looked effortlessly put together, which was more than you could say for yourself.

"You surviving?" he asked, his lips quirking into a small smile as he dropped his bag onto the floor.

"Barely," you chuckled, rubbing your temples. "Today was brutal."

Yeosang nodded in agreement, leaning back in his chair. "Tell me about it. Anatomy’s kicking my ass. I don’t know how you’re managing to keep up with all of this."

You shrugged, trying to play it off even though you knew the material was just as hard for you. "You just do what you can, I guess. It’s not like we have a choice. We’re all drowning in the same boat."

He smirked, his eyes drifting toward me. "Lucky I have you to help me stay afloat."

It was a lighthearted comment, but it carried the familiar tone of your casual dynamic. Yeosang and you had developed this strange, unspoken arrangement over the past few months. Friends with benefits, no strings attached, no drama. You both agreed early on that neither of you wanted anything serious. Medical school was already overwhelming; the idea of adding the complications of a relationship into the mix felt like an unnecessary distraction. And honestly, it worked. You kept things simple, fun—just two people who got along well, enjoyed each other's company, and let off steam when the stress of school became too much. You never had sex with him tho. With no one. You thought it would interfere with the feelings between two people, hence you and Yeosang only had make out sessions for now. And he was okay with it. Tho, it was about to tkae a 180 degree turn..

"Yeah, I guess you’re lucky," you teased, nudging him with your elbow.

His grin widened, and he gave you a playful nudge back. "Speaking of which, I was wondering if you were free tonight. You need help with some of this anatomy stuff. We’ve got that exam coming up, and I’m seriously struggling."

"Anatomy?" you raised an eyebrow. "That’s not exactly light studying."

"I know, I know," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "But if I don’t get this stuff down, I’m screwed. You’re better at this than I am, and I could use the help."

You hesitated for a moment, considering your options. It had been a long day, and you were tempted to just go home and crash, but the thought of studying alone didn’t sound appealing either. Plus, you knew Yeosang needed the help. And, if you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t mind spending time with him—especially in a more relaxed setting.

"Fine," you finally agreed, gathering your things and standing up. "But you owe me coffee or something for this."

"Deal," he said, standing up as well, his smile genuine. "I’ll make sure to have some at my place. You’ll need it."

---

Yeosang’s apartment wasn’t far from campus, and the walk there was peaceful, the evening air cool and crisp as you made your way through the quiet streets. When you arrived, he unlocked the door and ushered you inside, the familiar scent of his place hitting you immediately. It was clean, minimalist, the kind of space that felt uncluttered and calm—perfect for someone like him, who always managed to maintain that same composed demeanor no matter how stressful school became.

"Make yourself at home," he said, tossing his bag onto the couch as he headed toward the kitchen. "I’ll grab us some coffee."

You dropped your things on the dining table, already pulling out the anatomy textbook and notes. It was a massive textbook, the kind that seemed to weigh as much as all your collective stress, but you flipped it open, scanning through the sections you knew you'd be covering.

Yeosang returned a few moments later, setting two mugs of coffee on the table before sliding into the seat besides you. He leaned back casually, watching as you flipped through the pages, his eyes following the movement of your hands.

"So, where do we start?" he asked.

You took a sip of the coffee, the warmth of it soothing after a long day. "Let’s go over the musculoskeletal system first. I know that’s usually where people get tripped up."

For the next hour or so, you worked through the material, explaining the finer points while Yeosang asked questions here and there. Despite the subject matter being dense, the atmosphere between you was relaxed, easy. It was always like this with Yeosang—no pressure, no tension. Just a comfortable rhythm.

But as you moved through the material, you couldn’t help but notice the way his gaze lingered on you a little longer than usual, the way his hand would brush against yours when he reached for his pen or the way his knee pressed lightly against yours beneath the table. It was subtle, but it was there. Familiar.

Eventually, you leaned back, stretching your arms above your head and letting out a long sigh. "Okay, I think we’ve covered enough for now. You should be good for the exam."

Yeosang didn’t respond right away. Instead, he shifted in his seat, his eyes watching you with that same quiet intensity you'd seen before—when the interactions had veered into something less academic, something more physical.

"You’re a lifesaver," he finally said, his voice lower, softer than before. He leaned in just a little, his arm brushing against yours as his eyes locked onto you. "I really don’t know how I’d get through this without you."

There it was—that shift, that unspoken tension that had always existed between the two of you, just beneath the surface. You felt it too, the pull between, the way your casual arrangement had always felt so effortless, so natural. No strings, no complications. Just the two of you, in moments like this, where the lines blurred between study partners and something more.

You met his gaze, heart rate picking up slightly as you saw the way his expression had changed. His hand, warm and sure, moved to rest on your thigh, fingers gently tracing small, lazy circles there. It wasn’t aggressive, just a quiet, deliberate touch that sent a shiver through your body.

"Yeosang," you began, voice trailing off as his hand moved a little higher, his touch firm but not demanding.

"We’ve been studying for a while," he murmured, his voice low and smooth as his thumb grazed the inside of your thigh. "Maybe we should take a break."

"I-" you stuttered, not knowing what to do. You wanted to.. have sex with him, that's for sure. He was a good guy, whom could be even better in bed, you thought. But was it ethical? to fuck your.. best friend? Without being in a serious relationship? Well, in reality, friends with benefits is known for exactly that thing but at first you omitted that detail.. You loved how good you get along with him, all the intimate moments you had, without the proper sexual part. You were a virgin after all..

and you always thought that you'd never fuck him. But was it the same today...?

You never told him this, yes.. You remembered. You never told him you never had sex, either. The reason you were still "friends with benefits" if you could even call making out that, was that he was damn patient with you. You loved that about him.

"W-what do you wanna do?" you asked, seemingly confused but you knew where this was going.

"I mean.. just the usual, if you don't want something more" he said.

There it was. His patience running thin but never actually doing something about it. He was patient. Now, it was up to you. He was contently looking into your eyes, waiting for any sign from you.

Your hand went for his biceps, looking in his eyes. Then, he slowly went in for a kiss, not wanting to startle you. The kiss was needy, lustful, like it has always been. Tongues interlocking and touching, his hands were all over you.

He'd always get turned on from kissing and touching you. It was partly sexual, after all. And he always also got slightly hard, but he'd take care of it by himself later that day. It was.. sketchy, how patient he was. Seconds later you acted on instinct and impulse, but where did the action come from? Your right hand went from his biceps to his thigh, dangerously close to his crotch.

Yeosang stopped for a moment and looked at you, surprised. "Hm? Tell me sweetie, what do you wanna do?" he said, cupping your face. "Tell me" he murmured in a soft tone.

"I-uh" you stuttered.

"Hm?"

You didn't continue your words but you still answered his question. Your hand rode up his thigh, even closer to his crotch. Then, almost acting on instinct, your hand unbuckled his pants. He smirked at your action and leaned in for a slower, sloppier kiss. He smiled against your lips, sending shivers down your spine. He took you in his embrace and placed you in his lap, still kissing you. His hands went traveling, slowly making their way up to your breasts, to which you flinched for a short second.

He stopped.

"Hey, we don't have to do this if you don't feel comfortable with it. We can do the usual" he said in a reassuring tone.

"N-no" you said. "I wanna do this."

"Then.. may I?" he asked.

"Yes " you firmly said, kinda excited for what was gonna happen next.

You went in for a kiss again, your hands carresing his back softly. As you embraced him you started taking off his shirt, his muscles leaving you speechless. He saw your expression and giggled, finding you cute. He also took off your shirt, then he nodded, asking you if he can also take your bra off. You nodded affirmative and he left your chest bare in front of him.

Yeosang embraced you and put you on the desk, pushing away all the anatomy books you were supposed to have started studying by now. He took off your scrubs slowly. Yes, you had a practical that day and you were too damn lazy to go home and change yoursekf befoee going over at Yeosang and you also went right after classes. On the other note, he was wearing jeans cause he had only anatomy classes today. As soon as he took care of your clothes he also took care of his, both of you being left in only your underwear. His cock was already straining against the briefs, where your eyes spent a little too much time to stare at. He didn't say anything, even tho he probably saw you.

He took of your panties and threw them on the floor and looked contently at you. His rifht hand rode up your thigh and went for your folds, being really patient wirh you. He was looking you in your eyes to see any discomfort or sometning. But as soon as he saw that you were okay with it, he used two of his fingers to thrust them in. You moaned softly at the sensation, arching your back in response.

After he prepped you for a couple of minutes, basically already making your legs slightly tremble, he took you in his embrace and took you to his room where he put you on the bed. He softly pushed you back as he kneeled halfway on the edge of the bed. He took his briefs off and his cock sprung out, leaving you agape. He climbed on tbe bed right between you, feeling his length right against your folds.

"WAIT, wait." you suddenly shouted.

"Hm? what happened?" he said confused.

"I have to tell you something-"

What? Tell me" he sounded a bit worried avout what you'd say.

"It's just that, uh- Ah fuck it. I haven't had sex... never." you finally told him. "So please.. be gentle with me...?" you whispered.

Yeosang giggled. "Seriously? This is what you've been stressed about? Don't worry, I'll take good care of you, silly." he giggled and continued.. "May I? I want to make sure you're comfortable and all.." he whispered.

"Y-yes." you shyly said.

He looked at you and observed your expression. He knew you were turned the fuck on. Your folds literally dripping on the mattress, legs slightly shaking from only his fingers and eyes wide to see what he eas about to do.

"You don't know just how much I've wated this... but I care too damn much about you to have pushed the note or make you do something. Thanks.. for trusting me" he smiled against your thigh.

Yeosang stroked his length for a couple of times, then opened the drawer besides the bed. He took a condom out and put it on, making you feel even safer with him. He looked you in the eyes and nodded, to which you nodded back and he slowly pushed himself in. Your back slightly arched under his action, eyes teary and your hands holding onto his hands. He started slowly thrusting, watching you contently.

"Does it feel good to you?" he asked, hands holding your waist thightly.

"Y-yes!" you soflty shouted.

"Then.. mind if I go a little.. rough?" he bottomed down. "You gotta get a taste of how you'll be fucked in the future, sweetie"

You smiled. The little.. joke? you thought of it as a joke, yes, made you smile. He took that as a yes and as soon as he started thrusting a little bit faster, your chest rose up, soft muffled moans could be heard. You started to feel your core getting thighter and thigtber, you kinda new what that feeling was. To be true to yourself.. you haven't had sex with anyone but.. you fingered yourself at least twice since the semester started.

"Yeosang I-" you stuttered.

"Hm?" he was out of it.

"I'm.. c-close" you finally said.

"Me too" and as soon as he finished his words he raised your back up and took you in his embrace. You were now on your fours, back arching against his chest with every thrust. Kisses started trailing along your spine and shoulders, sending shivers down your spine. Within a couple more thrusts you finished, clenching onto him harshly. Surprised, he stopped for a short moment then started fucking you again, even more forcefully. It hurt but oh god... you were right when you told yourself he might be goon in bed. All sort of thoughts were running through your head, your chest slowly falling on the mattress.

He lifted you up.

"I'm not done... yet" his thrusts became sloppier and heavier, panting softly in thr nape of your neck, leaving kisses all over. As soon as his hands found their way to your breasts and pinched your nipples, you moaned loudly and.... squirted all over the place. Yeosang found that damn hot and came as soon as your moan revebrated through his body. He softly fucked you through his high, then came to a stop.

He slowly put you down and pulled out, throwing the condom away. He covered you with the weighted blanket he'd always had in his bed and hugged you thightly.

"...hey. How was.... it?" he spoke first in a soft tone.

"..A-amazing" you said, head still dizzy. "Though.." you continued.

"Hm?"

"I didn't quite expect to.. you know. Squirt..?" you giggled. "You're really something, Yeosang"

A smile rose on his face, "and this is not even everything that I can do" he laughed, teasingly.

"I bet"

"Hah, come on now. Let's get you washed up." he lifted you up and carried you to the bathroom.

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @gong-fourz @arki-sha @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03