#you have to be able to string sentences together

[elumish]

I know that I am preaching to the anti-AI choir, but I genuinely believe that skills like summarizing, articulating, and refining an argument, engaging with existing research or information yourself, and going through the process of crafting materials are core skills for life but also for many careers, and outsourcing those degrades people's ability to think critically and engage with ideas.

Even ignoring the fact that generative AI is awful for the environment and based almost entirely in intellectual property theft and has a bunch of other ethical issues, using gen AI as a crutch will actually just make you worse at both engaging with life and doing many professional jobs.

But also, beyond this, you will benefit from actively engaging with research and the news and shaping, summarizing, and articulating arguments.

Can you read a piece of news or an article and understand the point it is making? Do you know how to identify the biases of the source? Do you know how to understand what you are reading in the context of that bias?

Can you shape an argument based on information you have engaged with? Can you validate that argument by seeking out additional relevant information? Can you describe that argument to someone who is familiar with the subject matter? Can you describe or summarize that argument to someone who is not familiar with the subject matter?

Can you articulate your point--whether it is an argument or just a question--in written format? Can you articulate it out loud? Do you know how to shape what you are expressing to a given audience?

Being able to articulate yourself clearly, in a logical structure that is based on verified evidence, is important for so much of life.

[meatcarnival3000]

i never really did find spamton attractive but i think its largely bc i relate to him more than anything. which i know is way more of loser behavior than wanting to bone him but i digress

[fingertipsmp3]

A few times a year I get the urge to learn basically every language ever and then I give up because I get too ambitious. So my new rule is I’m never allowed to not be learning a language. I have to do at least one language lesson per day for the rest of my life

[cherrygirlfriend]

─ LET ME PLEASE YOU ♡

...or rafe wanting to spoil you.

♡ pairing.ᐟ softie!reader x bf!rafe

♡ summary.ᐟ your boyfriend loves spoiling you. in many ways.

♡ warnings / tags.ᐟ smut, MDNI! fluff, fingering wc: 2k

♡ author's note.ᐟ part of my 3k celebration! this is kind of a part of my ceo!rafe x wife!reader au!! but this is them when they were dating <3 if you wanna check it out, here’s a link to my fic about them but you dont have to read it!

3K MASTERLIST ♡ RAFE MASTERLIST

to say that rafe spoiled you would probably be an understatement. you'd never been too much into shopping; or to clarify, you'd never been able to afford shopping trips that weren't to the local thrift store that mostly carried clothing that hadn't been in style since the fifties. but you always managed to make do; your grandmother having taught you how to sew almost the moment you were able to string proper sentences coming in handy when you had an idea for something you wanted to change about an article of clothing.

so, it wasn't very common for you to have a lot of things. nice things in particular. but when you and rafe started dating, not only did he start to buy you things, but he also started to take you out on shopping sprees, ones that basically went like this: you'd see something cute, you'd feel the smooth fabric under your fingertips, and then take the label, your eyes widening in a way that made you feel like they were bulging out of your head when you saw the number on it; more often than not being a four- or five-figure number. you'd then try to beeline away from it, only for your boyfriend to snatch it and adding it onto the pile of clothes he'd encourage you to try, almost always ending up in one of the shopping bags he'd carry for you.

you watched your figure in the full-length mirror rafe put up in his bedroom when the two of you got together, the white sundress clinging to your curves like it was made for you. you twirled around, the hem swishing against your thighs, rafe letting out a deep chuckle, the man lazily sprawled on the armchair, his legs spread wide and a blunt between his fingers, smoke coming from the end of it as your boyfriend tapped it against it the crystal ashtray on his nightstand.

"you like the dress?" you asked with a sweet smile, looking at him through the mirror. rafe's eyes slowly trailed up and down your body, momentarily staying on the curve off your ass, before continuing to look you in the eyes.

"i like it a lot." he said deeply, tapping his spread legs with the palm of his hand, and you could feel a slight warmth crawling up your neck as you turned to him, tentatively walking towards him until you were at his armchair, looking down at him, reaching towards him with your hand, only for rafe to tug you down to straddle him, a small squeal leaving your lips before it turned into a soft giggle.

taking a deep inhale of the joint, his hand on your chin as he tilted it downwards, tilting his own head backwards and blowing the smoke at you. rafe's fingers ran up your bare thigh, a slight shiver running down your spine, "you have the prettiest thighs in the world, y'know?" his steely gaze lingering on the soft skin on your thighs, "so soft and smooth..." the man mumbled. his voice, his praises, his touch.. it all was making you melt into his arms, your heart fluttering with every word that left his lips. and the bastard knew it, knew the effect his actions and words had on you.

rafe took another inhale of his blunt before tilting your head back, blowing the smoke into your parted lips, your eyes fluttering closed as you inhaled the smoke and felt rafe's hands creeping up your thighs under the hem of your dress. "so sensitive..." he whispered against your lips.

"my sensitive baby." rafe hummed, his nose moving to nuzzle against your jawline while his hands continued to lightly trail up and down your thigh, chuckling deeply when your breathing hitched the moment his fingers got even close to your inner thigh. he always knew how to make you melt. "look at you." he chuckled under his breath, tilting your head back as his lips trailed down your neck, "you're unraveling already." rafe teased, pressing a small kiss on your pulse point, before sucking on it harshly.

"rafe...!"

"yeah, baby?" he whispered, and you could feel his warm breath against your skin as his fingers got closer to where you needed him painfully slowly, your hands gripping his shirt. "c'mon, use your words."

rafe's touch was so distracting, it was as if every thought inside of your head vanished the moment you felt his fingers on you, the man underneath you enjoying the more and more you get wound up. "i want..."

he interrupts you with a mocking chuckle, "you want what? say it." rafe tsked, "or is it too hard for you, huh? you can't use your words 'cause you're too distracted?" rafe cooed mockingly as your body trembled on him, pressing yourself into him. "poor little bay... can't even talk 'cause her brain's all mushy from how i'm touching her..."

your boyfriend was reveling in the way you reacted to his touch, the way you pressed yourself into him, the small whimpers that left your lips... "you just want me to take care of you, don'tcha?" rafe chuckled, his hand reaching the edge of your panties, a patch of wetness already forming in them. he let out a low hum as his fingers started tracing the lace of your baby pink panties. "need me to make all the decisions, don'tcha? can't take care of yourself?"

"i don't think you can even think for yourself, can you?" rafe teased, his fingers dipping into your panties, "need me to tell you what to do, what to wear..." he circled his finger around your clit painfully slowly. "tell me, what do you want, baby?"

you could hardly form a sentence, your eyes pressed closed as your brain was all fuzzy and mumbled, trying to focus on answering. "i... i just-" you tried to speak, but the words died in your throat as rafe pressed his growing erection against you. "you just what?" he asked, his tone slightly mocking as he flicked your clit, making you gasp and whine.

"poor baby." rafe cooed mockingly, his touch making you shiver and arch into him, "all worked up and all i had to do was touch you a little bit. pathetic." he teased, his words causing your face to get warmer. "just need me to take care of you..." he mumbled, his finger continuing to circle your clit, your legs trembling around him, "gonna be good for me, yeah?"

"mmhm, yeah..." you ground into him, rafe showing his satisfaction with your answer by making his fingers work your clit a little faster, your body desperately pressing into his touch.

"that's what i thought..." rafe mumbled as his fingers slid down your slit while his thumb stayed at your clit, still tracing patterns on it, a groan leaving his lips, "fuck, you're so damn wet..."

you felt two of his fingers draw patterns at your entrance, gathering your arousal before pushing his ringed fingers into you in a way that made you throw your head back in pleasure. rafe curled his fingers inside of you, pressing them against that spongy spot inside of them, and the thought of his fingers being covered by your arousal, the scent lingering even afterwards, somehow turned you on even more "look atcha... such a good little pet."

a chuckle rumbled in rafe's chest as he pulled his fingers out of you before plunging them back in, this time even harsher. "awww, someone's a horny little kitty." he laughed and whispered; "you're so adorable..."

"so beautiful and obedient." his fingers curled inside of you once again, "you're mine, aren't you? all mine... no one else can touch you. you belong to me." his thumb rolled around your clit even faster, "say it..." rafe mumbled huskily.

"mmhm..." you whined, "all yours..."

rafe's fingers continued to work you, the man showing you that he was pleased with your answer by speeding up, "that's it..." he mumbles, "i know what my girl wants..." he growled. rafe was a possessive man; he loved knowing that he was the one who was making you into such a needy little mess, that you belonged to him, and him only. "you're my girl, aren't you?" he whispered, his fingers rubbing you just at the perfect angle.

"yes!"

"good girl..." rafe murmured, his fingers picking up the pace, "my good girl..." his teeth nipped at your neck, a small squeal leaving your lips. rafe could feel how close you were getting, your body trembling in his lap, "you're gonna come for me, arent'cha?" he teased, his hold on your hip tightening, "gonna be a good little pet and come for me..."

"i'm the only one who gets to see you like this..." he whispers against your skin as his fingers continued to pound you, the sound of your mewls and moans filling the room as the feeling in your abdomen grows. "no one gets to hear you like this... you're gonna come for me?" rafe teased, his fingers working you even faster, "gonna be a good girl and come for me?"

you ground yourself into rafe's fingers as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body shivering on top of rafe's, "that's a good girl..." he murmured, pressing his lips against your collarbone, "gonna be a good girl and come for me?"

"rafe...!" you moaned as you felt yourself hit the peak, before crashing right back down as you felt your cunt clench around the fingers still buried deep inside of you.

"fuck..." rafe chuckled, loving the way you were gasping and repeating his name quietly, curling his fingers inside of you to prolong your orgasm before pulling them out of you and bringing the drenched fingers to your lips, "clean 'em up for me, baby..." rafe cooed, and you opened your mouth with a content smile on your lips, sucking his fingers into your mouth in a way that made rafe groan, your tongue licking his fingers clean to the best of your ability. rafe grinned down at you, his hand going to your cheek, stroking it with his thumb, "you're so cute when you're obedient."

when rafe pulled his fingers out of your mouth, you nuzzled your face into his neck, and even though rafe was hard as fuck under you, he couldn't help but find your sleepiness utterly adorable. he stood up, still keeping you in his arms, bringing you to his bed and laying you down.

rafe crawls into bed next to you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest. letting out a soft hum, "rafe..." you mumble softly, looking into his eyes half-liddedly, "how much do you love me?"

rafe let out a chuckle and shook his head, his hand trailing up and down your back, "damn, baby. you're really asking me that?"

rafe's hand tilted your chin up, making you look at him. his gaze was intense, "how much do i love you?" he repeats, his thumb softly rubbing over your bottom lip, "more than anything. more than anything in this world. more than money. more than anything."

you let out a soft laugh, "more than money? wow. you really must love me."

"i guess you got me there, baby." rafe grinned down at you, "i do love you more than money. i love you more than anything. but money is a close second."

[suksatoru]

it's half past midnight when you hear the first telltale sign that someone is trying to break into your apartment. the shifting footsteps outside the front door were too loud to ignore, there was the unmistakable sound of someone breathing, and then came the dreaded, incessant jingling of the door knob.

dabi kept an extra pair of his combat boots outside your apartment door to scare off anyone from even attempting to break in when he's not around—you'll be sure to tell him his little trick did in fact not work if you manage to survive this entire ordeal.

dabi was a pretty resourceful boyfriend. he had given you some... questionable self defense weapons. prioritizing your peace of mind, you didn't ask him where he got the illegal artillery from and simply tucked it into the back of your coat closet (the world was a scary place, you weren't an idiot who would turn down extra protection).

and thank the universe you didn't, because now you have a bat with a bunch of nails tacked onto every square inch of its surface to, hopefully, fight off your intruder. your fingers tremble as you dial dabi's number, hearing it ring before it goes straight to the automated voicemail—anxiety prickles in your stomach, and you flinch when you hear the door knob shake even harder than it was before.

just your luck. tightening your grip on the bat, you take a tentative step backwards to keep yourself out of sight in case the door does cave in and open.

"the one time he isn't home," you mutter wearily under your breath before quietly gasping when you hear something scratching against your doorknob—it takes you half a second to realize the perpetrator was picking the lock, because it suddenly snaps off its latch and opens with a horrifying clink!

the door doesn't open. not for a heartbeat, at least. but the moment it does, you swing the bat as hard as you possibly can—throwing all your body weight into the hit.

dabi had less than a second to duck out of the way.

you miss—or in other words, he avoids getting his face bashed in by a single millisecond as the nails slam against the doorframe behind him instead.

he's crouched on the floor, eyes wide and a little breathless while you stand above him, completely stupefied

"dabi?" you shriek, half relieved and half mortified as you let go of the bat still stuck in the wood, gently pushing his boot with your slipper clad foot in questioning

"at least i don't have to worry about leaving you alone on missions as much," he says, eyes simmering with amusement and fatigue as you sputter, trying to string together enough words to form a coherent sentence

"what the hell! wha—how—why would you scare me like that! you have a key, you asshole! use it! a-and i called you! why didn't you pick up?!" you snap, delivering a swift kick to his shin as he hisses through his teeth, grin wide and toothy as he stretches his legs out in front of him, making no move to get off the floor

"first of all, my phone got crushed in a fight. second, i accidentally melted the key—don't ask me how. and third, the reason i picked the lock was because i thought you were asleep. i just wanted to come in quietly without waking you up. what the hell are you doing awake, anyway?" he muses, slumping a bit against the wall as you stay quiet.

with a sigh, you close your front door shut and make sure to lock it properly before lowering yourself onto the ground beside him. he smells like smoke, and there's dried blood on his pants. it doesn't stop you from pressing yourself into his side and dropping your head onto his shoulder

"you woke me up," you murmur, and he scoffs

"as if. i was as quiet as a mouse. you just have freakishly good hearing senses," he says with a breathy chuckle as you frown

"i could've seriously hurt you with that bat. can you please try and give me some sort of a warning next time? i don't think i'd be able to live with myself if something happened to you."

dabi doesn't answer for a while. he's staring straight ahead to where your bedroom door is left ajar, the warm golden light of your lamp spills into the hallway and illuminates it in a soft glow that looks like sunshine

"it's gonna take a lot more than that to kill me."

silence settles over you two, and dabi takes a split second to glance at you through his peripheral vision—you have both of your arms wrapped around one of his, and your brows are furrowed as your eyes remain closed.

he glances up at the bat, still jammed into the door frame, thanks to the nails, before he grins.

"it's pretty sick, huh? that bat's gotta be one of my favorites. and you have good aim—pretty lethal combination, if you ask me.

"dabi," you scold tiredly, but he just brings a finger to your lips

"shh shh, don'cha think you've yelled enough? do you want another noise complaint from those nosy neighbors of yours? can't say i could fault them this time, though—it is pretty late."

your lips settle into a pout, and you grumble quietly under your breath as he tucks an arm under your knees and behind your back before standing up

"come on. i'm tired as shit—and bloody. i'll shower and join you in bed, all right?"

you don't say anything, simply nodding as he carries you to your room. he settles you onto the heap of blankets before heading to your shower.

normally, dabi would've just passed out the second he got home. but he didn't want you laying in filth. so, here he was—scrubbing himself down and hopping out of the shower after another ten minutes to see you curled up under the blankets.

it had been a horrible couple of weeks for him. fighting in terrible conditions and sleeping in even worse—but coming home to you was always something that made the torture bearable.

he slips into bed after turning off the lights, and you instinctively move to hold him. your arms wrap around his middle and your head falls on his chest. a warm palm slides under your shirt and settles onto the planes of your back a moment later

"next time, i'll sneak in through your balcony. be the perfect knight in shining armor for you—i don't think you'll have enough time to grab the bat by the time i get in."

you don't open your eyes, but your lips stretch into a small smile that has dabi grinning widely

"missed you," you murmur with a yawn as he hums, staring up at the ceiling

"go to sleep. i'll be right here when you wake up, promise."

once your breathing evens out, dabi peels himself out of your embrace as quietly as he possibly can. he takes a quick walk around you apartment—ensuring all the windows were closed, the front door was locked, and no one suspicious was lurking outside before he re-enters your room and slides back into bed.

he finally lets himself fall asleep, and it's the best sleep he's had since he left you.

it's not because of the air conditioning, it's not because of the bed, and it's not because he'd gotten to take a shower—really, the only reason he was able to fall asleep peacefully was because he had you with him, tucked into his side and in bed, right where both of you belonged.

[catdile]

I’m so sad about Loop and the thought of them disappearing/never getting to see their party again devastates me to an astronomical degree so

Au where Loop gets ‘here we go again’-ed back to their timeline and everything is normal, except for the fact that the loops are still happening (supposedly, they haven’t looped back yet they don’t know I don’t know what are you a cop) and they’re still. Very much visibly a star.

They are obviously, very scared. Because their party doesn’t recognize them and there’s this whole thing where one member of the party REALLY has to look at them until they realize that ‘Siffrin’ really is, a WHOLE STAR NOW.

I HAD A WHOLE FUCKINH VISUAL FOR THIS. BECAUSE I BASED IT OFF OF THAT ONE MOOMIN EPISODE WHERE MOOMIN TURNS INTO A SWEET LITTLE BEAST AND HIS MOM IS THE ONLY ONE OUT OF ALL OF THEM TO JUST LOOK AT HIM AND GO ‘oh shit yeah that’s my baby’

Obviously there will be changes in dynamic and scenario, and it might be more than just one party member to do this, but the idea of a person looking at their unrecognizable friend and then being able to tell it’s them just from how they look at them makes me so ill.

Anyway since Loop knows damn well not telling their party shit will just get them in deeper shit they just like. Soppily start explaining everything, they cannot string two sentences together they’ve been crying nonstop since they saw their party give them a break. Obviously the party believes them because holy shit if you’re a whole fucking star and you’re also crying? Your eyes out? There are no tears, then why the hell would you lie about this?

It just ends in a lot of tears and Loop is. So sad

But also happy because…’yay !!! My party !!! I have my party AND I know how to break the loops now !!! Awesome !!! That was so easy !!!’

Yeah it only took losing yourself and accidentally changing your body into something you don’t recognize so you can leave your self made torment only to be stripped away from the ones you love and put into some other fucking fella’s timeline so that THEY can have their happy ending instead yeah Loop that was SO EASY.

IS THIS ANYTHING????????

[syluspeach]

“Daddy’s home, home for me”

Pairings: Sylus, Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, and Caleb x reader

Synopsis: You’re feeling abandoned and needy.

Note: I just needed to write the guys calling themselves daddy hehe. Reposted.

Sylus

On your hands and knees, the position allowed Sylus the perfect view of your puffy cunt taking in the large, ruby-colored dildo. Your poor little hole stretched pathetically, whines muffled by the black comforter.

“S’not enough. Need your fat cock in me.”

You cried to the open air, wishing he was inside you, giving you what you so badly wanted.

He had been so busy lately, leaving while you were still asleep and returning once you were already tucked under the sheets. You craved him mentally and physically, bottom lip wobbling at your loneliness. You were trying to make up for his absence with the stupid phallic-shaped toy.

Hand working the length into you, your hips pushed back against the head to engulf the entire length with your inviting warmth. You were desperate, wishing it was the large man watching you instead. It was foolish of you to think the plastic toy would fill you the way Sylus did.

It lacked the delicious stretch the base of his cock offered, the knot there always plugging you up with his seed.

Your hand started moving faster, wrist flicking to fuck the toy into you in a manner that was anything but pleasurable. It didn’t reach the itch inside of you.

Sylus could hear your pathetic sob. You wanted to cum so bad but having grown used to the feeling of Sylus rearranging your guts, the head of his cock bulging under the skin of your abdomen couldn’t be replicated.

“Please, need it so bad. Wanna cum on daddy’s cock. Need him so bad. Can’t…can’t do it without him…need…need it so-”

He couldn’t take it.

Sliding his cool palm up your sweaty back, you cried in surprise, throwing the stupid toy to the side when you recognized him before clinging to him. Neither one of you said a word. How could you as you stuck to him like a deprived little parasite, lips parting to welcome his tongue into your mouth.

You rubbed yourself against him, the fabric of his button-up rough against your puffy nipples. You bounced in his hold. Words came out of you but you couldn’t string a coherent sentence.

“Shh, relax, sweetie. It’s alright now.” He placed you back on the bed, tugging you by your ankles to the edge, messy cunt pressing against his clothed bulge. You wasted no time to begin rocking against him. “Daddy’s home.”

Rafayel

Rafayel made sure to stand at an angle that kept him out from the mirror in front of you.

Though the mirror was foggy and streaked with condensation from the warm water trickling from the bathtub faucet, he could make up your pretty face in the glass.

Your lovely lips were parted. Breathy, high-pitched sounds fall from them. Heated cheek against your shoulder and eyes squeezed shut, you held yourself under the running water, legs spread to allow the stream to come in contact with your pulsating clit.

When it didn’t provide the sensation you were looking for, a frown took over your cute face, lips pouting and eyebrows coming close together.

“Not enough…”

You complained, moving to turn the crystal knob higher up, the water falling out at a faster rate. Spreading your puffy folds, you angled your hips differently, hoping it would give you what you were looking for.

“This…not enough-oh, fucking hell-this is…this is pointless. Not gonna…not gonna work without him…”

Rafayel smirked at your groans of frustration.

You had grown into a much too glutinous little thing. You would never be able to cum without his fingers, tongue, or cock ever again. He made sure of that.

Catching your attention with the click of his shoes against the porcelain floor, you glared at him, pouting so prettily. He fell onto his knees on the outside of the tub. Brushing your sweaty hair off of your face, he pressed tender kisses against the corner of your mouth, not giving you what you wanted just yet.

“Easy, guppy. You’re too tense.” Allowing the water to run over his elegant digits, he brought them over to your clenching hole, tracing a finger up your slit. “Daddy’s got you.”

Zayne

When you received a surprised call from Zayne, inviting you to his office, you hurriedly got ready. He’d been so caught up with work that your sex life was non-existent. You had brought it up to him, joking that you were going to show up at the hospital one of these days and have him take you on his desk. Thinking those were his intentions, you made sure to wear the pretty light blue lingerie you bought specifically for him.

By the time you were in the elevator, heading up to his office, your panties were wet, sticking to your folds.

Your frustration reached its breaking point when he brushed past you just as you stepped into his office.

“I’ll be right back, there’s a family member with a question.”

Your words died on your tongue and your smile fell.

Damn it all. You’d take care of your needs by yourself.

Knowing the only person allowed in his office other than himself was you, you roughly removed your clothes, leaving them on the floor.

You settled into his leather chair and stuffed your hand into your panties without a second thought. Collecting the slick from your empty hole, you spread it up to your clit.

Every set of footsteps had you freezing in fear that some unknown would waltz in with no regard to Zayne’s rule of no entering without permission but as they faded, you’d go back to sliding your fingers into yourself.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed. All you knew was that you were slowly giving up hope of cumming. Zayne had spoiled you too much. Your fingers were unable to reach the depths he could, lacking the expertise his career offered him.

“Useless.” You wailed with desperation, fingers squishing the fat of your tit, having pulled the padded cup down to expose the swollen flesh. “Can’t do it…can’t get there without you, sir…”

A large hand angling your head up brought you out of your thoughts. Meeting those familiar green eyes calmed your stuttering heart. His thumb pulled your bottom lip free from where it was caught in between your teeth.

“There there, darling one. I’ve left you alone for far too long, haven’t I?”

You responded with a pathetic “uh-huh” hand clutching at his white coat. He smiled at the lost look in your eye before leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

Lifting you off his chair, he laid you down on his desk, the glass cold against the heated skin of your back. Dazed gaze followed his movements, registering the sound of his belt being undone.

“Daddy will take care of you.”

Xavier

Staying asleep had been difficult the last few nights. Your constant tossing and turning didn’t seem to bother the blond sleeping beside you.

Xavier had been tired the past few weeks. He slept more than usual, his baby blues hidden behind his fluttering eyelids. The second his head would meet his cool pillow, he was out like a light.

You tried to be understating. He needed to rest but there was no one else who could lull you to sleep on the nights you couldn’t shut your brain off.

You weren’t superstitious, but you blamed the full moon for your lack of sleep.

You huffed and puffed, roughly turning from one side to another as you failed to find a comfortable position.

Xavier on the other hand looked like sleeping beauty, chest rising and falling as he dreamt about whatever bounced around in that lovely head of his.

Shoving the sheets off of you, plopped yourself onto your back, turning to look at Xavier.

If he was awake, he would have made sure to tire you out enough, orgasms soothing you into dreamland.

Rather roughly, you shoved your hand past the waistband of your underwear, fingers meeting your dry folds. Surely you’d be able to work yourself up enough to have just enough slick for your fingers to feel pleasurable.

You poked and prodded your hole, whining at the lack of pleasure. The little circles you rubbed around your clit we’re pointless. You couldn’t find the necessary rhythm.

You were sleepy and frustrated, angry tears threatening to fall past your waterline.

‘Need bunny so bad…don’t wanna wake him though…needs his sleep’

Getting wet enough was never an issue with Xavier. Whether with spit or his cum, he’d play with you until your cream spilled out of your weepy cunt.

The harsh circles you rubbed against your bundle of nerves were becoming painful. Sensing your irritation, Xavier’s eyes fluttered open. It took a few seconds for his sight to clear up, and your soft figure bathed in moonlight appeared. Your face was pinched with attention, the imaginary gears loud enough for him to hear as a movement in your panties caught his eyes.

“Need it…please…gotta cum” You whispered to yourself, trying not to wake him.

“Silly girl.” He said and you gasped, hand stilling.

Ruffling the sheets, he moved closer to you, his fingers coming up to his mouth where he swirled his pink tongue around the length of them, the spit causing them to shimmer in the moonlight. Though sleepy, he tucked himself against your warm figure, chin tucked into the curve of your shoulder and fingers sliding under the cotton material.

“If you needed daddy’s fingers, you should’ve just woke me up, bun.”

Caleb

Caleb could have sworn he had died and entered heaven as he returned home after a few weeks in Skyhaven. His pretty dove had gone far too long without his touch, leading to you making a hasty purchase at the nearby sex store, an adorable lilac-colored dildo was suctioned cup to one of the bedroom walls and you pathetically took it in your sullied cunt.

Tears slid down your heated cheeks, dripping off of your jaw and onto the plush carpet you placed under you to keep your knees from stinging against the hard floor. You were completely nude, your tits catching Caleb’s attention as they bounced.

Your wide eyes looked up at him, his colonel outfit making him appear larger than usual. You kept pushing back against the toy as one hand reached for him.

“Can’t cum!” You cried. “Need you to help me, please!”

No “welcome home” or “I’m so happy you’re back!” He’d need to reprimand you for that later. Teach you a lesson for forgetting your manners. For now, he’d let you have your fun.

His combat boots thumped against the ground as he made his way over to you, the leather of his uniform creasing as he got down to your level. His hat thrown onto the foot of the bed.

You nuzzled your face against his glove-clad palm, accepting the warmth he offered.

“Missed you so much. Been needing you for so long.”

His free hand trailed down your arched back, reaching your ass, giving one of the globes a harsh squeeze before landing a loud spank against the fat.

You preened.

Forgetting about the toy slotted inside you, you moved away, throwing yourself into his embrace. As always, he caught you, taking the impact as he fell back, your naked figure straddling his clothed form.

With one hand securely placed on your hip, the other came to wrap around your throat, focusing your gaze onto his face.

Your hips moved on their own, pressing your puffy cunt against the bulge that formed under his pants. Shaky fingers blindly felt around until they came in contact with the cold metal of his belt, unfastening it.

“S’not the same. Need daddy inside me…toy’s isn’t…s’not enough to make me cum…please, captain…”

Smoothing his hands along your sides, settling them under your tits where his thumbs could reach to tease your nipples, he smiled as you wildly bucked against him.

“S’alright, daddy’s here now.”

All rights belong to @syluspeach

[talaok]

Win Again

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x sex worker f!reader

Summary: Marcus has won yet another match, so to reward him, his master has granted him another hour with you.

warning: smut| unprotected piv, oral (f receiving), a whole lot of manhandling, he like uses your body idk how to explain it, multiple orgasms, and once again unnecessary feelings cause im not able to write something where they just fuck for some reason

a/n: i know im two days late but PLEASE read this still. (also) basic things for this guy that i've decided are canon: 1)he has a monster cock, like actually scarily big, 2) he's real fucking strong (hulk typa shit), 3) he's not a big talker (but he is a grunter). I need this man to fuck me more than i need my next breath (real), also i did so much research for this fic and you cant even fucking tell

It wasn't often that you didn't dread going to the barracks.

These were strong, ferocious, and dangerous men, and you were but a meek lamb in comparison.

But today was different, today you were seeing him, him who fit the previous description to a tee, and yet was so different from any man you had ever offered your services to.

And perhaps it was because it never felt like you were ever offering anything, ever since that first night, you had never given anything you hadn't wanted to.

The guards stopped as you arrived at his room and you felt a wave of excitement crawl up your spine the moment they opened the door, waiting for you to enter.

The armored men stepped aside to let you pass, the cobblestones on the ground sounding against your sandals as you made your way inside, looking back at the door just in time to see it being shut close.

It was his breathing you heard first, his heavy breathing coming from where you knew his bed sat on the room's left, and seconds after, the creaks of the wood as he stood up, his feet stalking your way.

You turned to him then, a smile almost making it to your lips as you saw him alive before you once again, granting yourself a second to relish in the fact he still breathed, he was still here.

"You've won again" you spoke softly, your hands slowly finding the string holding your dress together.

He didn't respond. The window behind him caused the moon's soft glow to fall on the stone floor, but not on his beautiful face, that, you had to watch closely to inspect.

A newer cut right above his left eyebrow had appeared, and his right arm was bandaged almost completely, but otherwise, he looked fine.

His eyes remained on yours until you'd undone the dress, until it fell at your feet- then, a low groan rumbled from his chest as he took you in, and took his turn inspecting every inch of your bare figure.

"How do you want m-"

You didn't have time to finish your sentence that he'd picked you up, effortlessly pulling your body up until your legs slung over his shoulders and his face was buried in your cunt.

He hadn't even given you a second to realize what was happening that his tongue was already lapping between your folds, desperately drinking everything your body gave him.

"Oh my g-" you threw your head back, your skull finding the wall behind you being the only reason you realized he'd moved, and you were now caged between him and stone as you forgot how to speak.

The moans you had faked so many times for so many clients were nothing like the ones your mouth was spilling now, these were higher, coarser, feral, and the way you were gripping his hair... there was no way that didn't hurt.

"Y-You only" a whine interrupted your words when you felt his tongue plunge into your hole, when he started fucking you with it just like he would with his cock "You only h-have me for an hour" you breathed, your thighs squeezing tighter around him contradicting the words you were about to speak "d-don't you want me to p-please you?"

His grip on your ass only tightened and his mouth halfheartedly parted from your core to answer you.

"You are"

And just like that, he'd gone back to work. The moment his mouth closed around your clit you knew you were done for, you knew there was no point in fighting what was inevitably going to come, and so you shut your eyes, as he brought you to heaven.

Your moans were getting higher and higher as your back arched to feed more of yourself to him, desperately craving the feel of his touch, of his nouse, of his beard against your thighs, of the lips he so devoutly was using to suck on your most sensitive spot.

"F-fuck- general I-" The fist you had wrapped around his hair tightened as every muscle in your belly did the same "Oh!"

Somehow, through all the chaos, while you were coming all over his face, while your moans reached levels never reached before, the only thing you could feel or hear, besides pure ecstasy of course, were his groans, his groans as he drank up every drop of your juices, as if your orgasm was bringing his as much pleasure as it was to you.

You barely had time to open your eyes that his strong, big hands and even stronger, bigger arms had pulled you down until your legs hugged his waist instead.

You really did weigh nothing for him, and if that wasn't enough to prove it, the next minutes definitely would.

Your heavy breathing was fanning over his mouth as he freed his cock from his pants, but while you were expecting him to kiss you, having been blatantly staring at your mouth since he had any way of seeing it, every thought in your brain turned to dust when with one hard fucking thrust, he drove his cock into you- or the first few inches at least.

You couldn't talk, you could do nothing but throw your head back as your eyes rolled to the back of it, and let him take whatever he wanted to take.

"I'm not a general anymore," he said with another thrust, stretching you out even further, even deeper.

You wanted to laugh at his words. Now? Now he was feeling the need to correct you? When you could barely breathe, let alone think?

But he didn't look interested in hearing a response from you, not when he grabbed your waist, and definitely not when he started moving you up and down on his shaft with just the sheer force of his muscles.

The moans, the lewd moans that crawled up your throat were filthy, even filthier than the sound of how wet, how unbelievably drenched you were as he plunged into you over and over, as he literally used you as a fucktoy, filling you up more and more, until he was finally sat inside you to the very hilt, until his pubic hairs were grazing your skin and the tip of his cock was touching your cervix.

"Oh my god" you whimpered, feeling tears prick your eyes as your toes curled at the feeling.

You could feel him everywhere, everywhere.

But he didn't pause, he wasn't one to take his time, and perhaps that was because he didn't have much; he resumed his movements again, retracting his hips while he pulled you up his cock, and slamming into you while pushing you down on it, leaving you breathless, a simple doll at his mercy.

His groans and growls were deep and filled with lust, just like the way he bent down to take your left tit into his mouth, just like the way he was fucking you, deep and hard, and God- God it was happening again.

"s-shit" you squeaked, your walls squeezing around him as you bit your lip, so fucked out you could barely remember your name or anything at all that wasn't how good he was making you feel.

"O-Oh my fuck-"

The arms you had intertwined behind his neck tightened with every spasm of your hole, with every flutter of your belly, until you'd come once more.

You opened your eyes, letting them trail downwards, to where his lips parted to suck in ragged breaths, begging him for a kiss.

"again" he said instead, and your eyes widened as you felt him starting to move anew

"I-I can't"

He looked at you now, really looked at you, his sweaty hair sticking to his forehead, his chest heaving as he breathed heavily, and then- then he kissed you. Marcus Acacius kissed you the same way he'd been fucking you for the last hour: like an animal.

It was a mess of teeth and tongues and yet it felt like the best thing on earth, better than wine, better than life, even better than the sex- it was perfect.

"again" he ordered once more, and what could you do, if not comply?

So he started again, he started fucking you again, even more ferociously than the previous time, even if you didn't think it possible.

The way his skin slapped with yours was drowned by both your desperate sounds, your legs started to tremble, beginning to fall from his hips as he moved you up and down his cock like it were nothing, and you- you didn't even know where you were anymore.

"please" you begged, a single tear of pleasure, of overstimulation falling to your cheek as he kissed you again, muting all your cries as he drove himself into you like a madman, like he was possessed.

"Time's up"

Two knocks sounded from the other side of the wall together with the warning, and you thanked Marcus for having rendered you such a mess because otherwise, that would have reminded you of how little time you two ever had, and how miserable everything really was.

His movements sped up at the notice, his dick plunging into you over and over and over until finally, it was happening again.

"give it to me" he said, and you did exactly as he asked- you gave it all to him, screaming and crying you let him have all you had to offer, feeling his eyes on you the whole time.

He came loudly just after you, groaning deeply as he filled you up to the very brim.

Out of all the words you could have said to him then, all the things you wanted to tell him at that moment, you chose none, because none would have said anything he didn't already know from the look in your eyes, from the same exact spark in your irises that ignited his own.

So he helped you to the ground until you stood on shaky legs, walked to where your dress lay on the floor, and dressed yourself again, his eyes never leaving you.

The door opened just as you were done, and you turned to him one last time again, a smile pulling at your lips.

"Win again for me, general"

He looked at you too for one last time again, as he thought about how you didn't know, you didn't know how big of a role you played in his victories, how many times he could only think of the taste of you, smell of you, feel and voice of you as he took his opponent's life, as he fought for another hour with you, another second.

"I will" he promised

[ddlydevotion]

OUR DAY WILL COME ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

Being Bo Chow’s Wife headcanons…

a/n: this was written with a black fem reader in mind (this is a little self indulgent lol) but anybody can read & enjoy this! I’m not strictly a Sinners blog so I won’t be writing for these characters all the time. Also, the backstory was inspired by @nothanksofficer, so go check them out 💌!!

Currently listening to: We’ll Be United by The Intruders

You cannot tell me that this man doesn't teach you how to string together sentences in Mandarin (if you don't already speak it). It'd start with him having sweet little nicknames for you in his native tongue, then you'd get curious & end up wanting him to teach you what he knows.

Many of the nicknames he has for you derive from your characteristics & personality. I'm really set on the fact that he'd call you 'little sweetheart' in Mandarin. It's also quite obvious if you've seen the movie that he'd call you baby. Imagine this man calling you baby/sweetheart/honey in that smoky southern accent...I need to be put down.

You were known in town as the girl to go to if somebody needed artistic or creative direction in whatever they were working on. That lady down the street needs help patching up a dress? You'd show up with your sewing kit ready to go. The owner of a local bakery needs assistance painting over some stubborn stains? You'd be there with your very own paint, gloves, brushes, and a little stool for you to stand on. That's how you and Bo met in the first place. He was in desperate search for somebody that'd be able to help him produce a sign for his store. Every time he'd ask somebody if they knew anyone who could assist him in such a task, they'd reply with your name and nod their head towards your studio.

and by God, were you gorgeous. Bo stumbled over his words for a good ten seconds before pausing and finally spitting out "uh d'ya think ya could help me with a sign? I heard ya paint and do all sorts of things and uh- it's for my store." He was nervous but he'd be damned if he screwed up his first impression and ruined all his chances of working with you in the future. But, you simply flashed a sweet smile his way and graced him with an enthusiastic "of course! Whaddya have in mind?"

he loves eating pussy. send!

he’s very very handsy when he’s eating you out. One of his hands is always kneading and pinching your tits, savoring your sweet little sounds before trailing down to settle his hand on your tummy. He wraps his strong arms around your aching thighs, anchoring your hips down to the bed.

What he had in mind was him getting his act together so he could see that sweet little smile of yours every single day & night.

Bo definitely wants to have at least one baby with you. He's brought it up many times when the two of you are laying in bed together, skin-to-skin, after he's worn you out. He'll trace your plush hips n torso with his fingers, racking his eyes up the body that he adores oh so much before saying "I think we should go again, hm? Just to make sure it really sticks."

This man is suave he knows exactly how to flirt with you and what it takes to get you going. He doesn't lay it on thick (unless it takes you a while to understand he's flirting), he's slow with his touch and intentional with his words. Sorta like a game of cat and mouse.

Gives amazing massages. He'd definitely be the type to plop your sore feet onto his lap after a long day of walking around and start rubbing them.

"Does that feel good? Oh, I bet it does. You're real tense, baby."

He is a monster when it comes to eye contact and he'd do it even more if you're quick to get shy. He uses your flustered state to his advantage and gets you to finally look at him by placing a hand on your chin & tilting your head in his direction.

"y'know you can look at me right, ya don't gotta be all shy. Such a pretty lil thing, aint'cha?"

His proposal was one of the sweetest things you ever witnessed. You couldn't contain the gasp that left your mouth at the sight of him getting down on one knee. He went on to list all of his favorite things about you, your sweetness, compassionate nature, the protectiveness you harbor for the things you cherish. He recited his favorite moments that the two of you have shared, how he loves when your nose scrunches up when something is too sweet, how you bite your lip when you're concentrating, how you can't help but close your eyes and smile when your favorite song comes on.

"and I just knew from the very first moment I saw ya, baby, that you were the girl I wanted to settle down with. I wanted to bring you to meet my mom an' dad, buy ya a house, give you my baby if you'd let me, everything -anything you wanted, I wanted to give it to ya. and that's exactly what i'ma do, baby. All ya gotta do is say yes."

He undoubtedly got misty eyed seeing you walk down the aisle. Your wedding photos look a lot like the ones below (I know these aren’t time accurate let me have fun):

Bo is most definitely the type of man to hand feed his woman. Whenever the two of you are working on dinner together, he’ll hold a spoon up to your mouth so that you can have a taste of what he’s fixing up.

I’ll be posting a part two soon so let me know if you’d like to be tagged once it’s finished 💌🌷.

[buckybabesonly]

first times

Summary: Your first time with Bucky should've been sweet, intense, maybe even kinky - but when he abruptly stops and tells you that he "can't do this", your heart is broken.

Pairing: Bucky x fem!reader

Genre: Slight angst, fluff

Word count: 1.4k

A/N: Was randomly thinking about sex with Bucky, as you do - and thought, realistically, could he feel nervous about having sex for the first time with someone he cares about after (presumably) decades of no sexual activity at all? This fic is what I think that would look like

Your heart was racing. You had never felt so nervous before, not even when you first lost your virginity years ago and awkward, fumbling, uncomfortable sex had ensued.

This was different. This was your first time having sex with someone who you actually, truly loved. This was sex with Bucky.

You sank back into the pillows of your bed, your hands gripping his firm biceps as he moaned against your mouth gently, setting off a chemical reaction from within your core. He was laying on top of you, hands planted in the mattress on either side of your head to prop himself up as he kissed you deeply. He was careful not to place too much of his weight on you, though you were desperate to feel more of him, caged in between his arms.

You loved how safe he made you feel, how gentlemanly he was in every other aspect of your relationship - but right now, you were ready to be devoured. You wanted him to show you exactly how ungentlemanly he could be. You wanted him to make you unravel, wanted him to fuck you so hard that you wouldn't even be able to string a sentence together. You were barely coherent right now, unable to think of anything else besides Bucky and how you needed him inside you as soon as possible.

You tried to pull him even closer, desperate to touch every inch of him. Your fingers reached down for his belt, hungry for more friction, for more skin-on-skin contact. You were absolutely burning for him, the last few weeks of sexual tension finally snapping until you simply could not take it anymore.

You were so caught up in your own desires that you didn't even register the first tendrils of hesitation emanating from him. The first signs of Bucky tensing up as you reached beneath his shirt, hands pressing against his abs. Your fingers teased the hem of his jeans, running against his pubic bone.

He broke the kiss, giving you an opportunity to eagerly kiss his neck. You whined gently, willing him to take off your clothes, trying to grind your pelvis up against his. You wanted him to touch you, to explore every inch of your body as you explored his, to consume you.

Your sex-addled brain finally registered that he had stopped moving, and you frowned slightly in confusion as you pulled back to study him. His expression was one of hesitation, his eyes distant.

"Bucky?" You whispered, cheeks flushed as you tried to ground yourself. "Everything okay?"

He swallowed, tendrils of his long brown hair falling in front of his blue eyes. He couldn't bring himself to look directly at you as he suddenly pushed himself upwards, moving to sit on the side of the bed and straightening out his rumpled black t-shirt.

"Hey - what's wrong?" You asked again, scrambling to sit up and scoot towards him. Your hand reached out to his forearm, and he flinched. Your face fell.

"I can't do this," he said quietly, still refusing to look at you. "I'm sorry." He stood abruptly without saying anything else, shaking his head to himself before he raced out of the bedroom.

Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach. You felt tears sting in your eyes as the emptiness of the room swallowed you up, anxiety racing through you and rapidly replacing any excitement that you had been feeling just moments before.

The weight of his rejection physically winded you. You balled your hands into fists as you tried to regulate your breathing.

What the hell just happened?

Insecurity reared its ugly head. You had been so nervous but excited to take the next step in your relationship with Bucky, had imagined hundreds of times how it would go - this was not what you had envisioned.

Had he simply changed his mind? Was the thought of seeing you naked repulsive to him? What could have made him suddenly up and leave like that?

Did he suddenly see all the flaws within yourself that you had seen all along?

No. No. It wasn't like that. You knew Bucky wouldn't think of you that way.

But why else would he leave?

You felt humiliated. You fought back the tears, willing yourself not to cry. You felt so vulnerable right now, alone in your bed, in the disheveled clothes that you had been so desperate for him to peel off your body.

One of the things you prioritized the most in a relationship was communication. And you loved Bucky, but damn it, he wasn't the best communicator. He often clammed up with how he felt, and was generally more of an actions speak louder than words kind of guy. However, you'd be damned if you were going to let him just walk off like that.

You composed yourself and jumped off the bed, padding out of your room and into the hallway. You could hear him in the kitchen, and you took a deep breath before going to face him.

He had his back to you, a glass of water beside him. You knew he could hear you approach, but he didn't move.

You cleared your throat anyway, leaning against the kitchen doorway.

"Bucky? Do you want to tell me what's going on?" You asked, his rejection still rolling over you in painful waves.

He didn't say anything, but he finally turned to look at you. He looked upset, his lips pressed together in a thin line. He looked guilty when he saw your expression.

"If - if you don't want to have sex, if you're not ready - that's okay," you mumbled. "I didn't mean to rush it." You pulled at the hem of your shirt, looking down at the floor, suddenly embarrassed.

"No," he said abruptly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That's - that's not what it is."

You didn't say anything, silently imploring him to continue.

"Is it me?" You blurted out finally when he didn't speak.

"What?"

"Is it..." You gestured awkwardly at yourself. You weren't sure how to frame the words. You didn't think you were an insecure person, but in a situation like this, you couldn't help but entertain the idea. "Is it something I did?" Or something I didn't do? Be sexy enough, alluring enough?

"Hey." You looked up when Bucky suddenly moved towards you, taking your hands in his. "You didn't do anything."

You looked at his eyes, trying to find the truth. "Then what is it?"

He sighed, tongue darting out to lick his lips. He was nervous, his mouth opening and closing silently as he tried to find the right words.

"It's...it's been a long time," he said finally, almost wincing at the confession.

Huh?

You frowned, taking a moment or two to finally piece the meaning together.

Oh. Oh.

"Ah," you said, eyes widening. "Right."

"I've not - I haven't had sex in decades," he grunted, his jaw clenching. "Literally. I was just...feeling nervous. Don't wanna disappoint you."

You tried to imagine how you would feel being intimate with someone for the first time in years, and quickly pulled Bucky into an embrace. To your relief, his arms wrapped around your waist, his nose burying into your hair instinctively.

"You could never disappoint me," you said firmly. "We'll take it slow, okay? At your pace."

"I don't want you to think that I don't want you," he said gruffly. "I mean, god, if you knew the thoughts going on in my head. If you knew the things I wanna do to you."

Your cheeks warmed as you felt the heat suddenly begin to build again. He gripped you tighter, one hand lifting to stroke the back of your head.

"M'sorry for running out like that. Just got spooked. I want it to be good for you."

"It's okay," you said reassuringly. "Bucky, listen to me. We're a couple, and I'm nervous about our first time too. But - " you leaned back and pressed a kiss to his lips, "- I know it will be amazing."

He returned your kiss, breathing you in deeply. You could practically feel him slowly relax as you reassured him.

"I know I shouldn't have handled it like that," he murmured. "I'm stupid."

"You're not stupid," you laughed. "You're the sweetest man I ever met, Bucky Barnes."

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, and you felt him smile against your skin.

"And, if you're nervous, maybe I'll just take the reins," you said teasingly. "Show you a thing or two."

He chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that sent shivers down your spine. His hands suddenly grasped your waist, pulling you flush against him.

"Hmm. Maybe I like the sound of that."

[didhewinkback]

how bad do you want me

a something old blurb inspired by the taxi pic but that pic was so sweet and this is definitely just filth

warnings: smut city baby; word count: 3k omg

---

“I’m home” he calls out from the hallway, the smile on his face growing when he hears the happy bark and your “we’re in here” call back.

He toes his shoes off and places his tote bag and jacket on the hook, shaking off the day. He feels good, there is nothing quite like a good day in the studio, when the creative juices are flowing just right, the music seeming to fly right off the page, his pen not able to move fast enough to capture the lyrics pouring out of him. Almost felt like divine inspiration but he knows the source of it, knows on the good days when everything’s working all he has to do is think about you and his mind instantly waxes poetic.

Images of you have flown through his head all day, - you in that wedding dress and you out of it, you dancing against him at that bar in Japan, you sunbathing on the beach in St. Tropez. Making him feel like he was burning from the inside out as couplets and sonnets and bridges poured from his brain. Knowing he could write about you everyday for the rest of his life and it still wouldn’t be enough but what a privilege to get to try anyway. 

He’s thrumming with the unreleased energy, the euphoria of a good session, the thrill of getting to go home to his muse. The new melody flowing through his head as he heads towards the tv room, his buoyant steps interrupted by the oaf of a dog greeting him halfway. 

“Hi sweet boy,” he coos, bending down to scratch at Sammy’s back, to accept his kisses as he greets him, tail wagging and body shaking. “Yeah yeah yeah, missed you too, you big oaf.” 

He presses a few kisses to his head and scratches his fingers against the dog’s scalp before standing up and heading through the doorway, having to lean against it at the sight of you on the couch. Hair still damp from a shower, long, bare legs stretched out against the pillows, wearing nothing but an old t shirt of his. He has to clench his fist to keep himself from just diving on top of you, swallowing to try to combat the way his mouth has just gone dry. Knowing all the songs in the world couldn’t capture just quite how he feels right now, looking at you. His wife. 

“Hi.” you say softly, smiling over at him, the glow of the tv making your face already more incandescent than it usually is. “Good day?”

He should answer, should attempt to string some sentences together but he just nods and makes his way over to you as quickly as his feet can carry him, kneeling one leg on the couch in between your thighs as his hand brushes along your cheek, cupping the back of your neck and he bends down to kiss you.

It should be soft, gentle, a greeting kiss for the first time you’ve seen each other since this morning but it’s instantly carnal, his tongue diving into your mouth when you gasp, the hand on the back of your neck tightening as he kisses you deeply, hungrily trying to explore every inch of your mouth. He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth before pulling away to press his lips against your jawline, dipping down to swirl his tongue against your neck.

“Good session?,” you ask breathlessly and he hums against your skin, biting down when you roll your hips up against his. You slide your fingers into his hair, scratching at his scalp as he continues his ministrations, knocking his hat off in the process. “Didn’t even take your hat off.”

“Needed you,” he mumbles, shifting so both his knees are on the couch, hovering over you as he brings his mouth back to yours, swallowing down your soft moan as his hand trails down your side, sliding up your t-shirt to clutch at your skin. He makes to move down your body when a soft whine coming from decidedly not you makes him pause. He groans, resting his head against your collarbone when you laugh.

“When was the last time he was out?” he grits out, feeling like he might die if he has to detach himself from you in any capacity. 

“Like 20 minutes ago.” you say, your hands sliding along the front of his sweater and pulling him in closer to you and he almost moans in gratitude.

“Alright, Sammy.” he says, turning to the dog laying patiently at the edge of the rug and lifting a hand to point to the bedroom where his dog bed lays. “Gonna need you to go into the other room, pal. ‘M about to do some things to your mom that may scar you for life.” 

You groan out a laugh as his genius boy, who's going to get so many treats after this, more treats than he will ever know what to do with, stands up and pads away, leaving the two of you alone.

“Dog’s a genius.” he says

“Can’t believe you just told him that,” you laugh and he grins, turning back to you and his breath catches in his throat. 

Your kiss swollen lips, the way you shake your head at him but that does nothing to soften the molten look in your eyes. He leans down to kiss you once before pulling away, pressing his mouth against your jaw, your neck, sliding down your body until he’s laying on his stomach, his head resting against your belly, his shoulders between your thighs. His knees are gonna be fucked tomorrow, bent at a weird angle but who cares when he’s got you looking at him like that, smelling this good. 

He closes his eyes, pressing a kiss to your stomach against the t-shirt still laying across it before pushing the hem up with his hands, his lips following his hands until the shirt rests right above your chest. He drags his lips against your breasts, sliding his hands down to your hips and squeezing when you let out a soft moan. 

“Thought about this all day,” he murmurs against your skin, tongue darting out to lick at your nipple before sucking it into his mouth in a smooth pull. He kisses across your chest before giving the other nipple the same treatment, fingers scratching against your skin when your hips buck up on their own accord. He kisses his way down, pausing at your stomach, licking a stripe across your skin before sucking a mark at your hip bone, the soft sounds coming out of your mouth making him feel like he’s on fire. A symphony he never tires of.

He rests his chin against your hip, looking up at you, the way you’re shakily breathing, staring up at the ceiling, your arms over your head, your shirt pushed up. You look back down at him, looking so gorgeously overwhelmed just from his mouth on your skin that he’s not sure he’s ever felt better about himself in his life. He did that, he does this to you. He has this effect, the same way you do to him. What a fucking gift to give someone as much pleasure as they give you. 

“Y’ so beautiful, you know that?” he practically growls out and he can see your heavy swallow, your tongue darting out to lick at your dry lips. “Got to spend all day writing songs about it. About how good you make me feel. Y’ make me feel so good.”

“H - jesus”, you gasp out as his mouth continues its trail down your skin, his hands sliding down your thighs and back up, a pattern that makes you whine. He could draw this out, could keep sucking marks into your skin, cataloging every moment that your hips twitch, but he knows if he doesn’t get his mouth on you now he’s going to lose his mind. His fingers hook into the waistband of your underwear, body doing a weird half press up to pull them all the way down your legs, kneeling at your feet as he pulls them all the way down your ankles and throws them on the ground. 

He pulls your ankle up to his mouth, his lips dragging against the skin of your calf, pausing to suck a mark on his way up as he lowers his body back down, hooking your leg over his shoulder as he drags his teeth against your skin.

“Wanna taste you, he murmurs, sliding down your body as he comes face to face with your core. “Want you all over my stache. Want to be able to smell you for days” 

A moan punches out of you at that, hips twitching towards his touch, his mouth and he just takes a moment to take you in, all of you. 

“Fucking - christ, baby,” he groans at the sight of you, how ready you are for him, just from his mouth on your skin. “I got y’ this wet?”

“Please,” you moan out, chest heaving and he has to rut against the couch to take the heat off, the arousal pooling in his stomach almost enough to make him shoot off right there at the sight of you like this. His eyes trail up and down your body, trying to catalogue everything to memory, knowing he’ll have inspiration for the next hundred sessions from the way you’re breathing, the way your body reacts to his touch and the guttural moan you let out when his mouth finally connects to where you need him the most. 

It’s sloppy and messy from the start, his tongue sucking your clit into his mouth in heady pulls, going harder when your hand slides into his hair and pulls as he licks a trail up and down your core. He presses soft, deep kisses against you, taking his time in a way you were not prepared for if the way your thighs shake against his shoulders are any indication. He slides his hands up your thighs, pulling you apart gently with his fingers to give his mouth more room, licking a trail down to your entrance, tongue darting inside to taste all of you. Living for the way you throw your head back against the pillows, eyes fluttering shut as you roll your hips up into his mouth.

“H, I’m -”

“I know baby, I know.” he mumbles against you, giving you another hard suck that makes you cry out. “Always know just what you need, baby. Always gonna give it to you.”

He slides two fingers into you, deep from the start and your leg kicks out, foot knocking against his back and he doesn’t care, he wants to feel all of it, all of you. He’s a man possessed as he closes his eyes, focusing on nothing else but the feel and taste of you, his favorite taste in the world, the way you’re practically gushing into his mouth and he hasn’t even gotten you there yet. 

You’re out of words, he can hear you trying to speak but its just sounds at this point, and the thrill in reducing you to this state is indescribable. His fingers curl inside you just like you always like it as his nose nudges against your clit before he sucks it into his mouth, running his tongue up and down in a senseless pattern thats only goal is to make you scream. He can feel it before you try to warn him, the way you’re clenching against his tongue, moaning loud, pulling on his hair as your thighs tense against his head and you come, hard, moaning out a chant of his name over and over. 

He doesn’t let up, not yet, continues to drive his fingers into you, continues to taste as much of you as he can and you’re practically writhing against the couch, and it doesn’t take long at all before you’re coming again, practically reduced to whimpers and he has to open his eyes, has to see the sheen of sweat against your forehead, your chest heaving as you gasp for breath, your blown out eyes as you tilt your head down to look at him. 

He presses more soft kisses to your core until you’re practically tugging his head away and dragging his head up to your mouth, kissing him deep the moment he’s close enough, the twist of your tongue against his, the way you’re practically leaning into your taste on his lips has him groaning into your mouth, his mustache rubbing against your skin in a way that seems to make you lose your mind, his hips rutting against yours in a way that makes you both hiss. 

“H, come on - need you -” you’re murmuring half completed sentences against his mouth as your hands slide to the hem of his sweater and pull - he leans away from you for all of two seconds to yank it over his head before his fingers find your jaw, tilting your mouth back to his. You start to tug at the waistband of his trousers before he gets the message, the desperation in your movement pulling him closer to the edge than he already feels. 

He pulls his trousers and briefs down in one go, standing up to shuck them all the way off and freezing in place when he looks down at you, sprawled naked against the couch with your thighs splayed wide. You lift up to pull your shirt over your head and to pull him back down, neither of you speaking, mouths dragging across each other’s skin as he guides himself into you.

“Fucking hell,” he grits out against your neck, biting down as he thrusts all the way in, one smooth push that has your hands sliding down his back to grip his arse. It’s tight, hot, wet, swollen heat, so wet and smooth he has to shut his eyes tight against the sensations flowing through him. “Baby I’m - shit. Not gonna last -”

“Don’t care,” you sigh as you guide his hips into yours again, your legs tightening around his as he fucks into you. He can’t help the moans spilling out of his mouth, would feel self conscious about how quick this is going to be but there’s no time to feel anything but you. The slide of your skin against his, the way you’re clenching down around him, the feel of your nails scratching up and down his back. It’s like you’re the only two people on the planet, nothing else matters but the slick feel of you around him, no thoughts in his head but how fucking good this feels, how fucking good it always feels with you. 

“I love you,” you moan out, as if reading his mind and a full body shudder runs through him as he tries to hold himself back, tries to make this last longer but he’s done for at the sound of your sweet voice in his ear, saying his favorite three words he’s ever heard come out of anyone’s mouth, still in disbelief that you’re saying them to him, that you vowed to say them to him for the rest of your life. “I love how you make me feel.”

“Baby, please -” he shushes you desperately as he licks his way into your mouth, your words pouring down his throat like the sweetest honey he’s ever tasted. Everything he’s ever wanted. 

“Want you to come,” you murmur as you pull away, his nose nudging against yours with every thrust, your hands sliding against his sweaty skin. “Want you to come inside me.”

The moan that escapes him seems to come from the depth of his core as white hot heat surges through him, giving two thrusts more before he comes inside you, teeth biting down on your neck, going to leave a mark but he doesn’t have time to worry about that, not when he feels this good. His body shaking with aftershocks as he punches his hips gently a few more times, unable to control the euphoria flowing through him. God, the way you make him feel. 

He practically collapses on top of you and you just bring your arms around him, both of you panting hard to catch your breath, the onslaught of emotion and feeling taking you both by surprise. It takes a few moments before he’s even able to move, tilting his head up to capture your mouth, kissing you softly, languidly, like he doesn’t know how to stop. Nor does he ever want to. 

You lay there for a while, soft moans pooling into each other’s mouths as you come down, hands sliding up and down your bodies, sweat cooling on your skin. He’s reluctant to move and it’s only when your kisses slow down in their ferocity does he shift, gently sliding out of you as he continues to drag his lips against yours before pulling away, pressing his mouth against your jaw and temple and burying his head into your neck. You run your hand gently through his hair as his hands slide up and down your sides, pausing every so often for a cheeky squeeze, a thumb grazing your nipple, his hand gently cupping your breast. Just wanting to be as close as possible for as long as possible, intertwining his legs with yours. 

“Am I crushing you?” he asks softly, his voice almost hoarse from all the sounds he’d been making. 

“Kinda like it,” you say and he huffs a soft laugh, pressing a kiss to your neck before sitting up. You instantly whine at the loss of contact.

“Hang on, darling. Just gonna -” he wraps his arm around you, pulling you with him as he lays back on the opposite end of the couch, rearranging for a few moments before you’re resting against his chest, his arm holding you securely to him, pressing his head against your hair and just breathing you in. You draw a finger up and down his chest, just drawing mindless patterns against his skin in a way that feels so nice. 

“Studio was that good, huh?” you ask, and he can feel your smile against his skin.

“Y’ can’t expect me to spend all day writing songs about you and not have to instantly get my hands on you.” he says, reveling in the way you shiver against him and he feels insatiable. He starts to mimic you, bringing a hand to draw light patterns across your chest, fingers slowly sliding down your belly and resting low. 

“What are you up to?” you murmur softly, not much fight in the question as you lean into his touch. 

“Just want to love on you some more, baby.” he says softly, sliding his fingers through your folds, circling your entrance and the mess there, living for every twitch and clench he can feel. “Let me hear some more of my favorite sounds.”

You tilt your head up, capturing his lips with yours as you gasp against his mouth as he starts to fuck his fingers back into you, moaning at his gentle touch. He revels in it, revels in you, revels in the sounds you make. His favorite song, the melody he’s always chasing. Loving how you make him feel, how you make each other feel, how you get to do this for the rest of your lives. He could write a million songs about this, about you, and he just might. How lucky is he?

---

that pic just did something to me okay !!!! blame the pic and the amount of espresso i had, i think this is the smuttiest thing i have written yet. hope u like it pls lmk what u think

taglist:@tobesolovelysstuff, @louyoursins, @daydreamingofmatilda, @jojo-blog53, @marzhshaim, @devilsqueen722, @just-happiness-only,@lomlhstyles, @feestyles, @spock4presidnet, @sunshinemoonsposts, @indierockgirrl, @jerseygirlinca, @kissitnhekitchen, @goldnrry,

[hitomisuzuya]

Okay.. what if.. fatui!scara x fatui!reader, but reader is the higher rank?

I feel like scara’s ego would go crazy at being able to turn his “superior” into a mess.

fatui harbinger!scaramouche x fatui harbinger fem!reader. smut. scara's ego. degradation. rough sex. spanking.

i have never written this dynamic before 😳 i'll be frank with you guys, scara is on a real power trip here. there is a sentence typed weirdly on purpose, btw.

scaramouche didn't think he could ever feel so exhilarated in his life. his whole body is shaking with it, an egotistical smirk never leaving his lips. you, a higher ranking fatui harbinger, was on your hands and knees for him, your pussy sloppily sucking his cock inside as he fucks into you from behind.

"how does it feel, slut," he moans, smacking a hand roughly across your ass, "to be in your rightful place? on your hands and knees for someone more superior?"

your toes curl as your pussy clenches tight around his cock, your back arching so prettily that he can't help but press his hand down on it. "please, fuck me harder, my lord!" his cock nudges so deep into your sweet spot it brings you on the verge of cumming every time.

scaramouche laughs shakily, smacking his hand across your inflamed ass again. "maybe i should sit you on my lap during meetings, hm? put a pretty collar on you and have you cock warm me," you only seemed to moan louder at his words. "the perfect, obedient pet slut."

you drove scaramouche absolutely insane. you are way too nice to be a harbinger. he could always taste the corruption he wants inflict on you every time he saw you.

"if anyone ever asks what you are doing, i'll make you say you are warming your master's cock," he hisses feeling your gummy pussy squeeze that much tighter.

panting, he pulls out until only the tip remains. "now use your words," he can feel you quivering from the rough, overwhelming pleasure in his grasp. stroking your hip soothingly, he reaches around to rub your swollen clit, "say, i want to cum your cock, lord scaramouche."

tears roll down your eyes onto his pillow as your clit throbs beneath his fingers. it takes a few moments for you to compose yourself. but you are so fucked dumb and drooling that you can't just can't quite get it out a first. "i wan..tt..to..cu.."

scaramouche cocks his head, tapping your clit with his fingers. "huh? i can't hear you. did i break you already? how pathetic," he scoffs, pinching your clit.

you gasp loud in pleasure, his well delivered pinch only hastening your impending orgasm. "please, i wanna cum on your cock, lord scaramouche!" it took so much effort for you to string coherent words together, pushing your hips back into his cock.

" ah fuck, now that's more like it," he gives your poor little clit a soothing pinch before resuming his pace. seeing you struggle to push your hips back into his cock, he grips your hips and fucks you back onto it as he thrusts.

"shit, you are going to cum so hard," he groans, he fingernails pressing half moon prints into your hips, "you are going to take all my cum like a good girl, yes?"

"uh-huh! i will, i will!" you bury your face into the pillow to try and catch your breath, but scaramouche grabs a handful of your hair and turns your head so he can hear you moan. "i will, i promise," you babble, slurred as your pussy gushes on his cock.

it's only more exhilarating for scaramouche to feel someone of higher rank than he tremble with so much submission in his grasp. it makes him come undone, his cock spurting thick gobs of cum inside of you. "i think i'll keep you."

[deusfoundry]

part 1 here! this can be read as a stand alone but these two drabbles are set in the same universe/timeline!

girl dad!zayne is a decade older now, and while some things have changed, most remain constant. his body is still fit, the muscles of his upper limbs still defined, but he's got a slight pudge on his belly from your cooking. he still scoffs down ungodly amounts of candies and pastries, much to your dismay. he still spends a good chunk of his time at the hospital, but you've been able to coax him into taking less shifts lately, so he's at home with you more often.

girl dad!zayne who's pleasantly surprised when his daughter's boyfriend knocks on their front door, but grows confused when he realizes he's alone.

"hi!" he hands zayne a small box containing two portions of the same cake they had for christmas a few years back. the first one he spent together with your little family. "this is for you and auntie."

"come in, son." zayne places a firm hand on his shoulder, guiding him inside the house with a smile.

girl dad!zayne who's starting to put two and two together when he shifts in his place on the dining table, almost uncomfortable and definitely nervous.

while he's visited your home by himself with just a cake and anecdotes about your daughter in tow before, zayne knows this is different.

"my wife isn't home yet, and according to her i've already hit my weekly sugar limit." he sets a plate down in front of him. “so you better eat this with me. otherwise, we'd both get in trouble.”

girl dad!zayne who stays quiet when he asks for his daughter's hand in marriage.

zayne knew it was bound to happen, expected it from the way he stutters between sentences, the way slips up and calls him "sir" when it's been eight years since he last used the honorific.

"i love your daughter. so, so much. and i can see myself- no- i know i want to spend the rest of my life with her. if she'll let me." he ends his speech with an exhale, holding zayne's gaze with a decisive look on his face.

zayne's eyes flicker towards the tiny box in his hands.

girl dad!zayne is equally terrified and relieved. he knows he can trust him, has known it for the last decade or so. but he can't shake the small voice in the back of his head that selfishly wants to keep his daughter close forever, that still holds on to the image of when all of her drowns in his arms.

she was so small, so vulnerable to the dangers of the world, and part of him wants to protect her for as long as he can.

girl dad!zayne who gives his blessing in the form of a simple question.

"how are you planning on proposing to her?"

zayne watches the man in front of him break into a grin, tears welling up on his eyes. and before zayne knows it, he's pulled into a tight hug. the air is knocked out of his lungs as he thanks him profusely.

girl dad!zayne who lets himself be held by you. the side of his head rests on your chest, close enough to your heart that he can hear the faint but steady thud of your heartbeat. your hand runs through his hair while the other cradles his back.

"he's proposing to her." he whispers as your fingers find his scalp.

"i know."

zayne freezes. "what?"

"he asked for my blessing a month ago. i told him he can stay until you came home, but he said he still has to build up the courage to ask you."

he pries himself away from you, putting just enough distance so he can look at you in disbelief. he opens his mouth, a string of complaints forcing their way out of his throat, but as always you beat him to it.

"hey, he asked me to keep it a secret! plus i didn't know it'd take him that long to ask you. you can't blame the man though, you're scarier than you think you are, dear."

and you had the nerve to giggle at his face.

girl dad!zayne who answers a call from his daughter two and a half weeks later.

it's the middle of the night when his ringtone cuts through the silence of your shared bedroom. he reaches for his phone and groggily slides it open. he rests it against his ear without putting it on speaker mode to not disturb your sleep.

he regrets it immediately when he hears his daughter's squeals over the phone.

"daddy i'm getting married!"

zayne pulls his phone away from his ear, hissing sharply.

"r- really, sweetheart? that's great." he briefly forgets about her boyfriend- well, fiance, asking him for his blessing a few weeks ago.

"he just proposed to me an hour ago and it was the most romantic thing ever! is mom with you?"

he hums, rubbing the sleep off his eyes. "she's asleep."

"oh right! i forgot it's nighttime for you there. sorry dad, i'll just call lat-"

"no, no-" zayne can almost imagine the grimace on his daughter's face, the tiny apologetic smile he knows she dons. "it's alright, dear. tell me all about it."

half an hour later, zayne falls asleep to his daughter's voice. she giggles when she hears his quiet snores through the phone.

"i love you, dad." she whispers before ending the call.

girl dad!zayne who visits his daughter on the day of her wedding right before he has to walk her down the aisle. it takes all of his willpower to not cry on the way to her hotel room and even more when he finally enters, spotting her standing in front of a mirror.

“dad!” she brightens up when she sees his reflection on the mirror.

“sweetheart,” zayne walks towards his daughter, but freezes in place when he's finally close enough to see her.

she's stunning, white satin cascading all the way down to the carpet of the floor, make-up done just right, jet black hair curled to perfection. clipped to her hair is the veil you wore at your wedding all those years ago, and for a brief moment, he sees you standing in front of him.

“i- i have something for you.” he hands over the box he's keeping in his pocket.

she eyes it with curiosity, gently unclasping the tiny lock to reveal the heart-shaped locket nestled inside. 

“dad…” 

“your mom gave it to me on our first anniversary.” he runs a thumb over the intricate detailing where the rust has settled, time wearing down the charm. “i didn't want to put my own photo inside. so for the longest time, it was just your mom…”

he opens the locket to show a picture of you in your early 20s. the brightest smile on your face tugs at the edges of your daughter’s lips.

“until we had you.” zayne shifts it to where a picture of her as a baby resides.

he hears her sniffle in his arms, and instinctively his hand flies to her back, fingers rubbing comforting circles over the fabric.

“you're making me ruin my makeup, dad.” her voice cracks through her words.

"your something old." zayne chuckles, moving around to help her put on the necklace. he pulls her impossibly closer to plant a kiss on the top of her head, over the veil she borrowed from you. "i'm so happy for you."

girl dad!zayne who walks his daughter down the aisle with you on the other side, because she insisted on having both her parents with her.

the whole walk is a blur to him. he remembers a few stray tears falling down his cheek and you scolding him for crying so early on through watery eyes. he remembers her laughter and the almost deathly grip she has on his arms. he remembers the comforting smiles you both give her when she admits she's nervous, asks what she should do if she messes up her vows.

"you'll do great."

"he's already in love with you. i'm sure nothing like that could change his feelings."

he remembers untangling his arms from your daughter when you arrive at the altar, but his hand still lingers on hers. he remembers locking eyes with her fiance.

“take good care of her.”

he gives him an affirming nod, and zayne finally releases the grip he has on his little girl to find your hands.

girl dad!zayne who weeps halfway through the ceremony. the brave front he's been keeping up all day shatters from just one look at your tear stained cheeks. he tries his damnedest to block any thoughts of his little girl, but it's the only thing he can think of as the ceremony goes on.

he hears her laughter and suddenly, she's two years old. and the best thing in her world is her dad making tiny seals and kittens out of his evol.

he catches sight of the tears welling up on her eyes and suddenly, he's helping her nurse a scraped knee with his hand over the wound and a whole tub of ice cream for them to share.

she turns towards you two right before she says her vows and suddenly, it's the first night you spend at the hospital after giving birth. he looms over your spent figure, holding the tiny bundle of joy in your arms as she gives you the smallest of smiles.

zayne chokes down a sob, leaning down to hide his face on the crook of your neck.

girl dad!zayne who joins in on the applause, his arm linked around yours as his daughter runs down the aisle with her husband, safe in the knowledge that someone loves his little girl the same way he loves you.

not proofread!!!! im not very satisfied w this again but we Move ehrhhehe hope u enjoy this all the same chat mwaah!!

dividers by @cafekitsune

[nicholasluvbot]

ㅤㅤI'LL LIKE YOU ✶ 보이넥스트도어

𝑓emale 𝑟eaderㅤ۶ৎㅤidol!reader & idol!bndㅤ☘️ㅤONETHOUSAND / fluff ʚɞ non established relationshipㅤ( CLiCK FOR MORE )

alternatively ───── when your fans ship the two of you together.

myung jaehyun.

jaehyun is the epitome of shy but calculating.

in front of you, he can barely string a full sentence together. he isn’t even able to look you in the eyes, his voice shaking as he blurts out, “y-you’re really talented. um—i, uh—really like your new song,” before practically sprinting away, face turning beet red.

fans live for his adorably flustered behavior, constantly making jokes like, “it’s not his fault he went to an all-boys school and has no information about the other chromosome in his database.”

but what they don’t know is how hard jaehyun works behind the scenes to fuel the ship.

he’d scroll through your instagram for hours, obsessively studying your outfit choices, your favorite colors, even the brands you wear. 

then, out of nowhere, he’s spotted wearing suspiciously similar clothes to yours, down to the tiniest details. fans, of course, catch on quickly, posting side-by-side comparisons of your photos, sending the internet into a frenzy.

when asked about it, jaehyun acts surprised, laughing nervously while scratching the back of his neck, “haha, i guess we just have similar tastes?” but inside, he’s thriving. he’s totally smug about it—he knows he’s been caught, but he’s secretly loving the attention.

when the members start teasing him, saying, “didn’t you just buy that bracelet because you saw yn wearing the same one?” jaehyun’s face turns bright red as he stutters, “n-no, i just like the design, that’s all.” sure, jaehyun... we’re all buying it.

park sungho.

sungho is a walking contradiction.

he tries so hard to act cool when the ship is mentioned, brushing it off with a shrug. “ah, fans are just having fun,” he’d say, his tone so nonchalant it almost seems convincing. but his red ears? they give him away every time.

fans live for the moments when he accidentally lets his guard down. like when someone shows him a video of you during a variety show—he’d sit there watching quietly, trying to suppress a smile, his lips twitching ever so slightly. but then jaehyun would chime in loudly, “why are you smiling so much?” causing sungho to immediately snap, “i’m not!” his voice a little too defensive as he avoids all eye contact, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve.

if you ever approach him at an event, though, his whole “cool guy” act crumbles. he’d stammer out a polite greeting, bowing so low and so awkwardly that his members have to stifle their laughter in the background. his hands fidget nervously, and he can barely meet your eyes.

later, when clips of the interaction inevitably surface online, fans zoom in on the way sungho sneaks lingering glances at you throughout the event. they also catch the soft, almost dreamy smile he wears whenever you’re speaking. within minutes, the clips go viral, with captions like, “bro is down bad.”

when he’s alone, though, he replays the clip of the two of you interacting like he’s preparing for a dissertation, his eyes glued to the screen as he analyzes every detail—how close you were standing, the way your voice sounded, and whether or not you smiled at him. his members tease him relentlessly about it, but sungho just mutters, “it’s not a big deal,” even though he knows he’s so far gone. 

lee riwoo.

he is so obvious it hurts.

fans catch him dancing to your songs a little too much during livestreams, his grin wide and his moves full of energy, as if he’s the biggest fan. “it’s just a catchy song!” he insists, trying to downplay it, but the way he lights up whenever your music starts playing says so much more.

his real feelings become painfully clear when you invite him to do a dance challenge together. on the outside, he’s all smiles, nodding eagerly, but on the inside? he’s screaming. internally losing it.

the moment you step into the same frame, though, his usual confidence evaporates. he stumbles over the choreography, his nerves getting the best of him, laughing awkwardly as he messes up. fans immediately notice how red he goes, and they absolutely eat it up. meanwhile, you just find him adorable, completely unaware of how flustered he is.

he’s a shy babygirl™ through and through, so whenever someone asks about it directly, he stammers, looking to his members for help like they’ll come to his rescue.

fans catch on quickly, noticing how he starts fidgeting, avoiding eye contact, or blushing whenever your name comes up in conversation. he denies being affected, always trying to play it off, but his members totally snitch on him during live streams, exposing how he practices greeting you in front of the mirror, muttering to himself, “hi, yn, i’m jaehyun, nice to meet you…” while his face turns as red as a tomato.

obvious, but too cute for words. 

han taesan.

this man is a pro at subtlety.

he doesn’t outright acknowledge the ship, but fans quickly catch on to how much effort he puts into feeding it.

during music shows and award events, he’s always in the background, staring at you like you hung the stars in the sky, and it's so obvious that fans can't help but point it out. whenever you’re on stage or accepting an award, he’s just there, soft smile plastered on his face, his eyes shining with pride. fans zoom in on clips of him, his gaze lingering on you, and caption them with things like, “taesan’s proud bf energy!” and the ship goes viral.

he’s definitely the type to secretly read fanfiction about the two of you..

when the members tease him about how much he lights up whenever your name comes up, he completely freezes. sungho teasingly asks, “taesan, didn’t you say you wanted to collab with yn?” and taesan, flustered and caught off guard, panic-answers, “n-no... i mean, maybe... let’s move on,” but you can tell he’s dying on the inside, trying to keep his cool. secretly, though, he’s probably rehearsing how he’d casually talk to you during the collab

he’s the type to subtly bring you up in interviews, too—“yn’s songs are great; i’ve been listening to them a lot lately”—just to see if fans catch it. and spoiler alert: they absolutely do.

kim leehan.

the definition of soft.

the first time he sees a ship edit of the two of you, his reaction is straight out of a romcom. it’s almost too cute to handle—he lets out an embarrassed laugh, his hands immediately flying up to hide his smile. “ah, fans are so funny,” he says, but his voice is so much softer than usual, and his blush? it gives him away. his ears turn red, and he’s absolutely melting inside, not knowing how to react to being the subject of such a sweet edit.

whenever he’s around you, he can't even hold a normal conversation without giggling nervously and stumbling over his words, offering compliments in the most awkward yet endearing way. and then there’s that awkward pause where he starts fidgeting, trying to salvage what little dignity he has left. but it's clear to everyone that he’s completely flustered and totally into you.

Still, fans adore how genuine and sweet he is, especially when he unknowingly matches his mood to yours—smiling when you’re happy or looking concerned when you seem tired.   

kim woonhak.

woonhak is so loud in denying the ship that it’s painfully obvious he’s head over heels in love with you.

during live streams, as soon as fans even hint at mentioning you, he immediately shouts, “no way! that’s not true!”—almost too loudly, as if trying to convince both the fans and himself. 

but behind the scenes? he’s absolutely dying. when no one’s looking, he’s re-watching every single interaction the two of you have had, replaying the moments over and over, giggling nervously and trying to convince himself it’s not a big deal, but deep down, he knows it’s everything to him.

his members absolutely love stirring the pot, casually bringing you up just to see woonhak completely flail. “didn’t you say yn’s your ideal type?” taesan asks with a smirk, clearly enjoying the chaos. woonhak's face goes red in an instant, his eyes wide as he shakes his head vigorously. “i NEVER said that!” he insists, but everyone can see the way his lips twitch into a nervous smile, the way his hands fidget. fans eat it up, capturing every moment of him flustered.

he’s definitely the type to act all cool in front of everyone, but when it comes to you? he turns into a nervous, giggly mess. 

once, he accidentally liked one of your posts while scrolling through your feed, and when fans pointed it out, he immediately went into full denial mode, spamming “NO” on weverse and trying to distract everyone by starting a random conversation about something totally unrelated. but in his mind, he's already panicking—did they see that?

even when it’s not about you directly, you can see how his mood changes whenever your name is mentioned, like his face softens a little, or he just gives a tiny smile that he tries to hide. he’s loud, energetic, but soft for you in ways that he’s too embarrassed to admit.

ㅤㅤiRAㅤ:ㅤwe all know what inspired me to write this 🤭

ㅤㅤ•ㅤㅤfeedback 🗯 reblogs ───── highly appreciated ˆᗜˆ

tags @sgz-net @kstrucknet @k-films

[half-of-a-gay]

i’ve never done this before clearly but : rugby player sevika x teams manager reader , PLEASE AND MY LIFE IS YOURS!!!!

my first request 🤭🤩🤗

Links: pt. 2, pt. 3

Rugby player!Sevika x Team manager!Reader

PART 1:

Sevika was a force on the field—unstoppable, relentless, a powerhouse in every sense of the word. She was the kind of player who made opponents hesitate before getting in her way, and the kind of teammate who turned a losing game into a victory with sheer determination. She had the scars to prove it, the muscle to back it up, and the confidence that made her damn near impossible to ignore.

Except when it came to you.

You, the team manager who kept things running smoothly—ordering equipment, organizing travel schedules, making sure their bruised and battered bodies had ice packs and painkillers ready after every brutal game. The one person Sevika, the unshakable, unbreakable rugby star, could barely string two sentences together around.

It was ridiculous, really. She could trash-talk a 200-pound forward without flinching, could carry half the team on her back if needed, but the second you looked at her with that easy smile, clipboard in hand, asking how her shoulder was doing after last week’s game, Sevika forgot how to function.

She wasn’t the kind of person who talked about things.

Not about her injuries. Not about how exhausted she was. And definitely not about the way she felt whenever you so much as looked at her.

So she kept quiet. It was easier that way.

You, on the other hand, were everywhere—on the sidelines, running the team like a well-oiled machine. But Sevika noticed the small things, too. How you hooked your pen on the collar of your shirt when you weren’t taking notes. The way you chewed your lip when you were deep in thought. The fact that, no matter how chaotic things got, you always checked in on her first.

And that terrified Sevika. Because if she let herself believe you cared more about her than just another player on the team, she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from wanting more. So she buried it.

Or at least, she tried.

She had survived another week of avoiding you at all costs. But the universe clearly had other plans.

"Sevika."

Your voice cut through the noise of the locker room, sharp and unrelenting, and she froze mid-step. She considered pretending not to hear you, but based on the look on your face when she turned around, that probably would’ve gotten her killed.

Shit. Caught.

Slowly, she faced you, schooling her expression into something bored, as if you weren’t standing there, arms crossed, looking at her like she was one wrong answer away from getting her ass handed to her.

"Yeah?" she drawled, leaning against the row of lockers with the kind of forced, lazy confidence that was supposed to hide the fact that you scared the shit out of her—and that she was, in fact, internally panicking.

"You’ve been ignoring my messages about your rehab schedule."

Damn. She knew she should’ve responded to those.

"I’ve been busy."

You arched a brow, unimpressed. "Too busy to let me know if your shoulder is still wrecked? That’s funny, because I saw you benching twice your weight in the gym yesterday."

Sevika exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of her neck. "It’s fine."

"It won’t be if you keep being stupid," you shot back, stepping closer.

Sevika tensed.

You were too close—close enough that she could smell your perfume, something soft, completely at odds with the sweat and adrenaline that clung to her skin.

Her brain short-circuited. She was not built for this.

"I—I’ll do the rehab, alright?" she muttered, suddenly very interested in the scuff marks on the floor. "I’ll text you back."

"You better."

You held her gaze for a second longer before stepping back, giving her just enough room to breathe again. But then—

"You do realize we have an away game next week, right?" you said, arms still crossed.

Sevika blinked. "Yeah?"

"And that you’re a starter."

"…Yeah?"

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose like she was the biggest headache of your entire existence.

"Sevika, we need you at full strength. We're all counting on you." Your voice softened, just barely.

Oh.

Sevika swallowed, her pulse skipping in her throat. You didn’t say it like the coach. Didn’t say it like she was just another player.

You said it like it meant something more, like she meant something.

Fuck.

Her chest tightened, words sticking to the roof of her mouth. "…I’ll take it easy," she finally muttered. "No promises, but—I’ll try."

You tilted your head, considering. Then, after a beat— "That’s the best I’m gonna get, huh?"

"Pretty much."

You sighed, shaking your head, but you were smiling—just a little.

"Fine," you said, turning to leave. But just as you reached the door, you glanced over your shoulder, smirking.

"Also, if you're gonna keep staring at me during practice, at least try to be subtle about it."

Sevika felt her heart stop.

You were already walking away, leaving her standing there like a complete idiot, blood roaring in her ears.

She was so screwed.

---

Sevika couldn’t stop replaying that moment in her head.

You knew she’d been staring. Had you known for a while? Were you just messing with her? Or— worst case scenario—were you dropping a hint because you wanted her to do something about it?

That thought lingered in her head all week, crawling under her skin in a way that no brutal tackle or grueling practice could. She spent every spare second convincing herself she should just make a move already.

And with the away game coming up—two nights out of town, stuck in a hotel together. Perfect opportunity. She could finally say something. Maybe ask you to grab coffee. Or a drink. Or hell, just talk to you like a normal person.

Yeah. She could do this.

Probably...

---

The away game was brutal. Hard hits. Fast plays. The kind of match that left blood on jerseys and bruises on ribs. Sevika played like she had something to prove—not to the opposing team, not to her coach, but to you.

She tackled harder. Ran faster. Every time she did something impressive, she flicked her gaze toward you, trying to catch a reaction.

And she did.

She saw the way you leaned forward when she broke through the defensive line. Saw how your fingers tightened around your clipboard when she slammed an opponent into the ground. You didn’t cheer, but you didn’t have to. Sevika wasn’t an idiot—she knew you were paying attention.

By the time the whistle blew, declaring their victory, she was covered in sweat and aching all over. But she barely felt it.

Because when she looked up, she caught the smallest smile on your lips.

And that? That made it all worth it.

The players were cheering, laughing, slinging arms over each other’s shoulders as they trudged off the field. You were waiting by the locker room entrance, already running through logistics in your head.

"Bus leaves at ten sharp," you reminded them. "Anyone late buys breakfast for the whole team."

Groans and grumbles followed, but Sevika barely registered them. She was already working through her next move.

This was it. Now or never.

---

Sevika liked to take the edge off with a drink after games. But she could handle her alcohol. She always kept her control—anything to keep the world from getting too close.

But tonight? Tonight, she let go.

Because the opportunities had been there. Moments to make a move, to say something, to do something. The bus ride, when you sat next to her, your knee brushing against hers. The hotel check-in, when you nudged her playfully after handing her room key. The post-game celebration, when you stood right there, close enough that she could've just—

But she hadn't.

Every single time, she hesitated, choking on the words before they could leave her mouth.

So, instead of dealing with that fact, she drowned it.

One drink turned into two. Two turned into five and more.

Which was how she found herself outside your hotel room door at 1 a.m., one hand braced against the frame, the other knocking—too soft at first, then a little more insistent when you didn’t answer right away.

When the door finally swung open, you were standing there, sleepy and so unfairly cute, wearing an oversized sleep shirt that hit mid-thigh. Your hair was messy, your voice groggy when you muttered:

"Sevika?"

She swallowed hard. Was she always this warm, or was that the alcohol?

"You gotta help me," she said, blinking slowly.

You sighed, already rubbing your temples. "Are you drunk?"

"My shoulder hurts," she said instead, leaning against the doorframe a little more, tilting her head at you.

"Sevika—"

"Can I come in?" She blinked up at you, purposefully softening her expression, just a little. "Please?"

You exhaled through your nose, stepping aside. "Five minutes."

That was a mistake.

Because the second she was inside, Sevika collapsed onto your bed, rolling onto her side with a dramatic groan.

You sighed, closing the door behind you. "I swear to God, Sevika—"

"Bed’s nice," she muttered into your pillow, voice way too soft for someone usually so gruff. She rolled onto her back, blinking up at you. "You’re nice."

You crossed your arms. "You said your shoulder hurt."

"It does," she whined, stretching her arms over her head, shamelessly putting her toned stomach on display beneath her hoodie. She peered up at you, smirking. "You gonna fix me up or what?"

You shot her a dry look. "You’re so full of shit."

"But you like me," she countered, her grin lazy, lopsided. "Don’t deny it."

You crossed your arms, raising an unimpressed brow. "Are you flirting with me right now?"

She smirked, slow and lazy. "Depends. Is it working?"

"Not even a little."

She pouted—actually pouted—before shifting to one side and patting the empty space next to her.

"Come here."

You scoffed. "Not happening."

"But my shoulder hurts," she whined, drawing out the last word like a sulky child. "And you’re all warm."

"You are not cuddling me, Sevika."

She huffed, rolling onto her stomach, muffling her next words into your blanket. "You’re cruel."

She peeked up at you, her hair falling over her face, her lips set in a dramatic little pout. "Please?"

"No."

She groaned again, rolling onto her back and throwing an arm over her face. "Ugh, fine. I’ll just die from shoulder pain. Right here. In your bed. Tragic, really."

You snorted. "You’ll be fine."

"You don’t know that," she grumbled, dropping her arm just enough to peek at you. "What if I wake up and it’s worse?"

You sighed, rubbing your temples. "Sevika—"

"Just let me hold you for, like, five minutes," she bargained, voice pitiful. "It’s for medical reasons."

"Oh my God."

"Please?" she tried again, giving you the best puppy-dog eyes she could muster.

Not even you can resist those big gray eyes. So you fold. Of course you do. You pointed a finger at her. "You get one minute."

Before you could even finish sitting down, Sevika grabbed your wrist and pulled—not hard, just enough to throw you slightly off balance.

"Sevika—"

But before you could protest, she was already maneuvering you, shifting so that when you finally settled, her head was resting firmly against your chest, arms draped lazily around your waist like it was the most natural thing in the world.

She let out a content sigh, her breath warm against your collarbone.

You stiffened, praying she doesn't notice now hard your heart is pounding against your chest. "This is not happening. Get off."

"Shh." She nuzzled in closer, completely unbothered. "Shoulder hurts. This helps."

"I should’ve just let you suffer. You are so lucky you’re drunk," you muttered, glaring down at her.

She just sighed happily, tucking her face into the crook of your neck. Her grip tightening ever so slightly. "You smell so good," she murmured. "Like…flowers or something."

Your face heated. "Sevika—"

"Soft," she mumbled.

"I swear—"

"Mm." She hummed, already half-asleep.

You should’ve pushed her away. Should’ve made her move to her own bed.

But as her breathing slowed, as her body relaxed against yours, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to.

You just shook your head, turning off the lamp, very aware of the fact that Sevika—stoic, untouchable, intimidating Sevika—was currently curled up on your chest, sighing like she’d never been more comfortable in her life.

[tatzelbookwurm]

A Round Door Like a Porthole, Lazarus Green Pt. 1 Pt. 2 (you're here) Pt. 3 Pt. 4

Art of LBM

Danny was still lying under the Specter Speeder, mind reeling as the words “they opened this portal with a child sacrifice, and bound his death and all the lost life potential to their bloody machine to create a perpetual gateway to the Infinite Realms” ran in a loop through his head. Could that really be true? Is his death attached to the portal, forever lodged in the doorway, preventing it from closing?

The guy clearly knew what he was talking about. The bit about why his ghost friends and frenemies caused so much chaos as they unleashed their obsessions on Amity Park made so much sense. It would certainly explain a lot of his interactions with ghosts after he died. 

 Danny silently cursed himself for not destroying everything in the lab before they got here. He and Jazz hadn't worried about the portal schematics, because they honestly didn't have any way to open a portal, only cycle energy in a recursive loop that shouldn’t have done anything. No one, not he and Jazz, not their parents, not Tucker or Technus, had been able to figure out why it had worked when Danny was inside. But if the machine was able to sustain a portal that was already opened. . . He wondered idly if he could light a fire that looked accidental and would both destroy the lab and leave the two men enough time to escape. It’d probably be too risky. And who knew what destroying the portal would do to him. Fully kill him? Destroy him completely and shatter his core? It might be worth it to prevent anyone from gaining this knowledge. 

No wonder Lex Luthor was interested in this business. A child was murdered in this basement, and for all Tim knew, the child’s soul could still be trapped here fueling a Lazarus Pit that connected the world of the living to the afterlife. What Luthor could do with an interdimensional portal or even a single sample of Lazarus water. . . Tim shuddered to think.

On the one hand, he was grateful that Wayne Enterprises secured the business before Luthor had the chance. On the other hand, he felt rather ill to think his family had directly enriched mad scientists who performed child sacrifices. At least he had full faith that between him and Oracle, they’d hunt the Fentons down and make sure justice was served.

“What is to be done for the child?” Tim asked Constantine. “Is his soul tied to that machine?”

“I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure it’s just his death.” 

“You’re gonna have to explain the difference to me, ‘cause I’m not sure I see the distinction.” Tim said wryly. 

“I guess. . . Hm. You could think of it as the moment of transition drawn out endlessly like a plucked string whose note never stops vibrating. Like life is the anchor point of one end of the string, and the afterlife is at the other end, and the child’s death is the note created when his soul crosses from one side to the other. The soul is the bow causing reverberations, but the reverberations are the actual death itself. The effect of the soul’s passage. And in this case, the portal is amplifying the death so it doesn’t end like a normal death ‘note’ would.” Constantine leaned in to examine some of the runes that were part of the array. “Not a perfect metaphor, obviously, since you bow perpendicular rather than parallel to the string, and death and souls are nothing like music, but you get the idea, right?”

Tim was still caught on John Constantine saying the words “death note” together unironically in a sentence. He was going to have to share that with Steph later. Maybe with the whole family group chat, even. “Yeah, the metaphor makes sense, as much as any of this occult stuff does to me.”

“Whatever. As for whether there’s anything we can do for the child, I think we’ll have to try and summon him if we can.” The Brit started pulling items out of his trenchcoat’s inner pockets. “We need to ask what the spirit wants done, before we go messing with things we don’t understand.”

“Alright, need anything from me?”

“Yeah, move this stuff out of the way so I can draw a circle.” Constantine directed Tim to shove aside a few stacks of boxes, something called a Fenton Ghost Weasel, and together they shifted a coffin-shaped iron maiden that for some reason was labeled Fenton Stockades. Then he set to work chalking a circle and runes on the ground.

Finally he sat back and dusted chalk off his hands. “That should do it.”

“Will this be bright too?” Tim asked warily.

“Eh, might be? Shouldn’t be too bad.”

Tim grabbed an auto-darkening welding helmet with a green “Fenton” sticker on it off the workbench and slipped it on.

“Alright, here goes.” Constantine began the summoning ritual.

While Danny debated arson, the other two had finished clearing a space and chalked some kind of circle onto the floor. He tuned back into the conversation when he heard the trenchcoat guy begin a traditional incantation for a summoning. Were they trying to summon him? Danny really hoped it wouldn’t work. 

When people tried to summon the Ghost King he could almost always ignore the pull. This pull, however, was very strong and immediate. It seemed proximity made a difference, or this guy was just better at summonings than the average cultist. Before Danny could accept the inevitable, he was pulled bodily — literally! — out from under the vehicle and across the floor, still flat on his back on the Fenton Under Car Creeper, with the Specter Speeder’s ecto-engine hugged tightly to his chest. The wheels of the Fenton Creeper (not to be mistaken with the Fenton Anti-Creep Stick) sped him straight to the summoning circle. Still very much in human form. 

This was his first real look at the guy called Constantine, and he couldn’t help a horrified yelp. “Eugh!! What the fuck is wrong with you, dude!?!!” 

His lapse in attention made him lose the battle with the summoning spell, and it gripped him, pulling him through the convolutions of the spellwork even though he was already lying half across the circle, and forcing him to change into Phantom in the process. It was such a disgusting sensation, like he was one of those squishy water filled tube snake toys that look like a fleshlight, and someone squeezed really hard and abruptly so he turned inside out and went flying to go splat against a wall (or in this case, against the ground inside the circle of chalk). He tried and failed not to retch.

The younger man in the crisp suit whom he’d already identified as Mr. CEO-Timothy-Drake-Wayne looked at him in startled bafflement, while the older blond, still smoking his cigarette, (gross, and was that thing never ending?) was probably looking at him. Maybe. It was really difficult to tell, because he was a frankly vile sight. Danny winced and swallowed down nausea. “What have you done to your soul?”

“I — what?”

“Trypophobia central, man! Ugh that’s gotta be the grossest thing I’ve ever seen. Can’t you cover it up?”

“Who are you?” Timothy Drake-Wayne interjected.

“I’m the dead guy? You literally just summoned me.”

“Constantine said you were a child”

“I mean, I was?” Danny looked down at his obviously twenty-something year-old self and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s been a while since I was fourteen though. These things happen.”

“Not typically, no. The dead tend to be pretty unaging.” Constantine said. 

“Dude I’m not having a conversation with you while your soul looks like Escher’s swiss cheese nightmare. Anyways, some of us do. Heck, I know a guy who constantly shifts from infant to old man and every stage in between. It’s pretty distracting when you’re trying to get him to let you fix the timeline again.” Danny continued to look anywhere but at the blond man. “But if it’s so important to you, I can —” He got an abstracted look, and slowly de-aged himself until the two men stood over a fourteen year old boy with snow white hair and glowing green eyes.

“That does not help. No.” The guy whose soul looked somewhat like a bleeding tooth fungus said. He turned away and started doing something magical. Danny hoped it would mask his soul in some way, but so far all it did was make Danny feel like he needed to pop his ears.

He also felt particularly uncharitable, so he didn’t revert to his natural age, and instead tried to see how young and cute he could make himself appear.

“So are you just haunting this basement? Seems hazardous, given the former proprietors.” Timothy tried to redirect the conversation. He didn’t seem nearly as distressed to see the ghost of a child, but his eyes darted surreptitiously to the Lichtenberg figure Danny used to always hide under gloves.

“Nah, haven’t been back here in years. I mostly live in my Infinite Realms haunt these days.”

“You . . . live? Is that just a figure of speech?”

“It’s rude to ask about a ghost’s nonliving status, you know. Highly taboo to ask how a ghost died or poke into the circumstances of our deaths without permission.” Danny admonished. Making himself younger than fourteen took more effort than he expected.

“Alright, I’m sorry,” Timothy raised his hands placatingly to the boy who now looked younger than Damian. “What brings you back to Amity Park?”

“Uh, you summoned me? Are we still not clear on that?”

Tim looked pointedly at the Fenton Creeper and the engine Danny still held. He’d shrunk down to the size of a four year old, and the engine really should be crushing him given it was bigger than his torso now. He quickly set it aside, and turned his biggest puppy dog eyes on Tim.

“You were in here already, and you looked pretty alive for a moment there.”

“I can look lots of ways!” Danny focused really hard on looking as cute, small, and nonthreatening as possible. He thought it was working when all of a sudden there was a pop! and he was smaller than he’d ever managed before. 

Timothy Drake-Wayne looked like a giant. The other guy, who had thankfully managed to put away his soul somehow, wore scuffed oxfords bigger than Danny. Hell, he could probably fit his entire self into one of Constantine’s shoes if that wasn’t a bizarre thing to do, and they weren’t already full of stinky feet. Holy shit what happened to him!?

Tim blinked down at the cat? Snake? Ghost. . . thing at his feet. What the fuck. A moment ago he was talking to an adult man whom he’s pretty sure was dead and he’s very sure was trolling them. Now his interlocutor had turned into an adorable creature with soft white paws, a long twisting tail, big pointed ears that swiveled like a cats, and a humanoid face that should’ve been creepy but was actually eliciting cute-aggression in him. Tim blinked again. The little baby ghost creature blinked enormous green eyes back at him. Then it yawned, revealing three rows of needle sharp teeth that looked like a cross between what you’d find in the mouth of a shark and a cat. Yikes.

“Does that mean the interview is over?” Tim asked him.

The creature just blinked up at him again, then zeroed in on his shoelaces, pupils expanding until only a narrow band of green ringed them.

Yup. The interview was over. Those paws hid some wicked claws which could apparently slice through leather with ease. Oh, Tim really hoped ghost scratch fever wasn’t a thing. At least the ghost looked sufficiently contrite after he yelped, and it waited while he removed a shoelace to sacrifice as a toy.

If Damian ever met him, there would be a new member of the family. Maybe he should name the creature preemptively so they didn’t have a cat-snake named Bat-Ghost in Wayne manor. 

“Do you have a name, little baby cat-snake ghost? Little baby ghost man?” He cooed as the miniature monster dashed back and forth, intent on shredding his shoelace.

The ghost paused long enough to chirp, “Li’l baby man!” before launching himself at the string. Even shocked, Tim’s reflexes had him whisking the toy out of the way, and the ghost went careening under a cabinet.

He wedged himself in the gap, landing face first in a dust bunny, and quickly wriggled backwards with an indignant squall. His wordless protestations cut off as he fell into a violent sneezing fit that thankfully dislodged him from beneath the cabinet.

Tim suppressed his laugh, and asked, “Little Baby Man? Is that what you want to be called?”

The ghost pawed most of the dust away from his nose, but spider webs covered his face and a big dust bunny perched atop his head like a fascinator with a cobweb lace veil. He looked Tim right in the eyes and nodded, dislodging the dust in his hair and setting off more sneezes.

“Li’l Baby Man” he confirmed. He placed a paw on Tim’s shoe and chirped, “Tim!” Then he pointed his tail at Constantine and said, “Gross!” with narrowed eyes.