#I had a BALL with this one

[missmeinyourbones]

WHERE LOVE LIVES

big bro touya & little snotty brother shouto, noncanon verse where rei got the kids the fuck out of that house!!!! slightly suggestive at first but shouto is a cockblock, i love u todobros, part 2?

Against the creaks of the floorboards and the buzz of the streetlights outside, the Todoroki household is relatively calm. 

It’s barely the beginning of summer. Though it's rather late, the sun only set a mere hour ago and the humidity in the air still holds up, even without the harsh rays marinating the sky. 

The Todoroki house itself is on the smaller side, especially for a family as large as they are. Filled to the brim with trinkets and out of place belongings, there’s not much wiggle room for architectural design or things that aren't deemed necessities. 

But it’s well-loved, by a gentle mother and her four rowdy children. There are scratches on the floor from Shouto’s scooter that’s meant to be used only outdoors, and a chip in the beige paint from where Natsuo pushed Touya into the wall. Fuyumi’s work sneakers carefully sit beside the front door’s welcome mat. It’s a house and a home. 

With Touya’s mother out for the night, the eldest son was left in charge of the house—and with that, his siblings. When your boyfriend charmingly invited you to spend the night at his place, he might’ve left out that tiny detail. 

“Babe,” the squeaking of Touya’s mattress can he heard as he whines against your cheek, “you serious?” 

You push him, though your warm smile betrays your rough action, “Deadly.”

Touya smirks at your resistance—he’s always loved a good challenge. His hands crawl up your sides, squeezing at the sensitive skin by your hips and waist. He laughs under his breath when you gasp on top of him at the brushing of his fingertips. 

“Not even a quickie?” he smugly instigates. 

“Touya, all three of your siblings are home.”

He remains unphased, shrugging beneath you. His chapped lips find your neck, crawling up to your jaw and right below your ear. He sucks a bit harshly on the one spot he knows you like so much. 

“So? We can be quiet.”

You laugh at his bold words, and Touya hums happily against the vibration of your throat. 

“You’ve never been quiet a day in your life,” you remind him.

“I could learn,” he’s quick to retort. With a sudden buck of his hips, you feel his half-hard length rub briefly against your heat. Touya doesn't miss the way you bite your tongue to hide your whimper. 

At his foul play, you lean in dangerously close—not close enough to give him the satisfaction of your lips touching—before whispering.

“Sorry, I don’t fuck bad babysitters.”

Touya’s tongue skims his canine as he growls. “That’s a fuckin’ lie and you know it.” 

You let him kiss you, and it's short and sweet despite his lewd words. But Touya works for more. His soft tongue tries to encourage your mouth to open, but you let him fail the first few times. On his third persistent try, you let your jaw fall open just enough to allow him access into your mouth. 

A soft moan purrs in your chest, and when Touya opens his eyes to take in (what he knows to be) the alluring sight, his eyes catch a tiny figure standing in his bedroom doorway. 

“Fuckin’ christ—” he jumps beneath you, bucking you off in the process and scootching upwards against his bedframe. 

You turn in panic to look at the now cracked open door, only to see a tiny Shouto. With squinting eyes and a pout on his face, his dainty hand fiddles against the doorknob of your boyfriend’s room. 

Touya runs his hands through his overgown roots in frustration. 

Now, he knows how dramatic he can be at times, but he means it when he says that this might be the worst thing to ever happen to him. Shouto, of all people, cockblocking you two. It’s like a comedy sketch written by his own personal devil.

“The fuck are you doing up?” he dares to ask him, though you don’t miss the “fuckin’ perv” he grumbles at the end of the question. 

“I—” a sniffled hiccup interrupts the smallest Todoroki’s declaration, “don’t feel good.”

Touya glares at his whimpering younger brother, unimpressed. “Go tell Natsuo,” he decides. 

“He’s asleep,” Shouto immediately whines in reply, because of course he tried Natsuo first. “And Fuyumi is studying for her big test tomorrow,” his voice drifts off as his eyes find the floor.

Touya, the last resort sibling, kisses his teeth and throws a pillow towards the door. 

“Well, ’m busy, too.” He returns to nip at your neck once more, but the glare you give him tells him otherwise. Unphased by your glare, he continus to lean in, but you dodge his advance and push his shoulder with your palm. 

“Fuck,” he groans dramatically, throwing his head back in frustration. He turns his direction back to the boogery nuisance in his doorway. “Go drink water or something,” he waves him off with a hand. 

“Touya,” you hiss at your boyfriend’s coldness. He looks at you and shrugs, as if you’d approve of his dismissive reaction. Your eyes roll just as quickly as your voice beckons softly, “Come here, Shouto.”

You move to the edge of the bed and the sniffly boy trots over to you on heavy feet. His pajamas are wrinkled, presumably from tossing and turning in his bed for the last few hours. His hands hover over his abdomen as he hunches in nausea.

Your hand finds his forehead, sticky with sweat. “What doesn’t feel good?”

Shouto’s nose crinkles in disgust, and Touya rolls his eyes at the dramatics. 

You’re no stranger to any of the Todoroki siblings, especially the baby of the family. Between attending his school concerts and going out for ice cream celebrations, it’s safe to say there’s a lot of talk in the house about Touya’s pretty girlfriend—whom all siblings aren’t shy to vocalize is way out of his league. 

“My stomach feels weird,” he whispers behind a frown. 

You coo at his agony, fingers rubbing his boyish cheeks in an attempt to soothe his discomfort. “Well, what did you eat last?”

Shouto thinks for a moment behind his usual deadpan expression before his eyes slowly flicker over to where his older brother huffs on his bed. 

“Touya got us pizza for dinner,” he remembers. 

“Okay,” you nod. You remember seeing a few discarded pizza boxes when you first came in. “How many slices did you have?”

Shouto clams up in guilt at your innocent question, fumbling with his fingers and words as he croaks out a weak, “Seven…”

Your eyes grow in shock, but you’re able to suppress your surprise and merely nod before not so discreetly turning to his guardian for the night behind you in disappointment. 

Touya looks like a deer caught in headlights when you hiss through clenched teeth. “Seven?! What is wrong with you?”

He shrugs defensively, gesturing to the blob of red, white, and sniffles behind you. 

“He’s like… old,” Touya attempts to defend himself. “Figured I didn't have to watch him eat.”

Your eyes shoot daggers through his skin, and while he would normally love getting this look from you, he hates that it's in defense of his stupid brother. 

“Okay,” you sigh, turning back to the younger Todoroki. His eyes soften when you extend a hand to his slightly chubbier one, “Why don’t we go find some medicine and lay down for a bit, yeah?”

Shouto’s face lights up at the offer—but naturally, with one Todoroki sibling’s happiness comes another’s demise. 

“Woah woah woah—” Touya immediately stands up from his bed when his brother links your hand in his. He points at an accusatory at the little fucker when he gawks, “Who the fuck is ‘we’? Shouto knows where the medicine is.” 

“Touya,” comes your same warning from earlier, and while Touya loves pushing your buttons, he knows his final strike is always the third. 

So the three of you make your way downstairs—you and Shouto hand in hand while Touya grumpily trudges behind you. 

Touya’s right—for once in his life—because Shouto naturally guides you right to the medicine closet, opening the door for you and everything. What a little gentleman. 

A quick browse of the options and you decide on a bottle labeled for stomach relief. The bottle itself is opened but decently full, and Shouto behaves like a pro when he grabs himself a glass of water in preparation for his dose. 

You pour the designated amount into a medicine cup and lightly cringe at the thick consistency. The artificial advertisement of bubblegum and strawberry can only do so much to disguise the fact that, at the end of the day, it’s still medicine. You hear Touya stifle a gag from behind you, but you know it’s half to piss his younger brother off.

Shouto remains unphased, downing the liquid like a champ and silently rinsing out his mouth with his water. You swear you see him shoot Touya a look, one with slightly raised eyebrows that reads something along the lines of victory. 

You usher the two of them to the couch. Touya plops on the cushions obnoxiously, going as far as reaching for the television remote before you pluck it from his grasp. 

Though you sit beside him, knees skimming one another, it’s not enough for Touya—because Shouto makes himself at home with his head in your lap. Bastard. 

With a nod of approval from Shouto, you decide on some cartoon from the early 90s—something with talking animals and childish violence. 

The silence between the three of you takes over, but it’s warm—like a relaxing blanket of weight. The Todoroki household is rarely quiet, let alone a good kind of quiet, so Touya decides to let Shouto win this round.

He shifts his gaze to look down at his youngest brother. Shouto lays comfortably on your lap, your hands delicately raking through his hair to help lull him to sleep. When he feels Touya’s hard gaze on him, he has no issue returning the stare. Under your embrace, Shouto smiles mischievously and sticks his tongue out in a taunt. 

With Touya’s feet clunkily spread out on the coffee table and his arm loosely draped around your shoulder, he silently mouths to his brother. 

“Bitch.”

[fernsensei]

and heeere it is! some thoughts on "what if gabriel and v2 met", the comic i've been working on much longer then i would've like to confess! i'm happy with the way it turned out to be and who knows, maybe i'll do a second part once i figure out how to bring this all to the culmination👁👁 hope you'll enjoy reading as much as i've enjoyed drawing!<3

[starry-bi-sky]

I'm in A Mood™ (stressed) so im going back to my roots of melting two character together into one person. So bruce wayne!danny fenton. Danny Fenton who, for eight years, grew up in a beautiful gothic manor with his mom and dad under the name "Bruce Wayne". Playing piano with his mother, running around the manor with his father.

Then when he's eight it's ripped away from him. There's blood on his hands and pearls pooling at his feet, and both his parents are dead in front of him.

And he gets shipped off to distant relatives "the Fentons" shortly after, Alfred close on his heels because someone needs to take care of him, someone that knows him. Bruce goes to the Fentons for the safety of anonymity. Gotham's press wants to sink its teeth into him.

Danny misses his city even if it took everything from him. There are shadows in his eyes and he's pale as a sheet even beside his distant cousins, and they change his name to "Danny Fenton' because nobody should know that their newest child was illustrious orphan Bruce Wayne.

They call him Bruce behind closed doors. Danny prefers it that way, he clings onto the name -- the one his parents gave him -- like a lifeline. He makes friends with Sam and Tucker. Tucker takes one look at the willowy, morbid little boy standing in the corner like a shade, ghosts in his eyes, and drags him out into the sunlight, and takes him over to Sam.

When Danny is twelve, he's still not over it -- and he's a little obsessed with the Fentons' research, with the morbid. He has books upon books on death, murder, detective work. Anything he can get his hands on. And stars. He loves stars.

Alfred owns the apartment next to them and comes over regularly. Danny clings to him.

When Danny is twelve, he's still quiet, meek, a shy little thing prone to being bullied. Freaky little Fenton with the night in his eyes and too-cold skin even before he put one foot in the grave. in a sleepover in his room with Sam and Tucker, he tells them the truth. They're his friends, he trusts them.

"My name is Bruce." he murmurs, voice quiet as the breeze, always quiet. he's staring at his star-covered sheets.

"Like Bruce Wayne?" Tucker asks, a joking tone in his voice.

Danny smiles a little, lamb-like with insecurity. "I am Bruce Wayne." And he takes them down to the lab, disrupting Maddie and Jack, to prove it. Sam tells them of her own wealth then shortly after. They start calling Danny "Bruce" in private too -- its trust. Thats what it is. It's trust.

Sam goes to media functions and comes back with aching feet and complaints on her tongue -- and Danny soaks it up all like a sponge, splayed across a beanbag chair with Tucker in her room. He's not envious of her, he used to go to events with his parents and they kept him safe from the ugly of Gotham's Elite. For the most part. He's had comments made at him, he doesn't miss them.

Alfred returns to the manor semi-regularly, Danny goes with him. he wanders the hallways and helps Alfred clean, the last thing either of them want is for their home to fall into disrepair. He brings Jazz with him next time, then Tucker, then Sam. They all help him clean, and he shows them his room. The one across from his parents', it feels strange.

When Danny dies when he's fourteen, the first adult he tells is Alfred. He and Jazz go over to his house more often than they stay in the Fentonworks building. At least at Alfred's, the food doesn't come to life. Alfred sits at the kitchen table and weeps when Danny tells him, Jazz is upstairs, and its just the two of them.

Danny's ghost form wears pearls around his wrist and the gloves look stained with some kind of black substance. He looks like a child who died in a lab accident, but he also looks like a child who has shadows dripping off his shoulders, curling at his feet, hanging from his eyes.

because amorphous blob batman has my heart always and danny/bruce will not escape it even in death even if that IS the only reason im giving him Mild BatBlob Vibes...so far

when they go to the manor, alfred helps danny make a pile of stones between Martha and Thomas' graves, nobody but the two of them (and sam and tucker) will know what it means. (not even bruce's children later down the line, not for a long, long time)

danny dives into ghost fighting on shaky feet and not half as witty as he once was in one world. he's skittish, skittering between blasts from shadow to shadow and clumsily making his way through each battle. but helping people lights a fire in him. he still has shadows dripping off his feet but there's a purpose in his eyes.

and god help him, he's going to help people.

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

cookies!

[buwheal]

Merry (Kris)mas

[beatcroc]

peppino "never tell the health inspector" spaghetti

hey! it's a series! fake peppino world tour: [noise] [noisette] [peppino] [gustavo]<- u are here [gerome] [noisette again]

[nyawrler]

hihg rolr

[incorrect-hs-quotes]

a list of Feferi-themed creepypastas

Jeff t)(e KRILLer

SlenderMANTA RAY

ben drowned

T)(e LAKE

smile DogFISH

SQUIDDL-E'S suicide

Russian SWIM -Experiment

Eyeless jackFIS)(

[dailycupofcreativitea]

How can Gohan find his home if he doesn't remember what home looks like? 🥺 (kidnapping AU)

[isthatacalzone]

living is being in a room of 12500 people who will all shout NINE whenever someone rolls a nine on stage while watching a bunch of nerdy-ass voice actors play dungeons and dragons

[epikhightechnology]

"I love you, Pete"

[slasherscream]

Wash Day

pairing:  jordan li x fem black!reader

"You wanna go out to dinner tonight? Know I've been busy this week. Feel like I've barely seen you." Jordan mutters against the shell of your ear. You shiver as he gives the skin a teasing kiss.

Already you're pouting, knowing what your answer has to be even though you wish so desperately that you could give a different response. "Wish I could, Jordan. But my night is already spoken for."

You're spun around by a hand on your hip, playful and fast so that you can't stop yourself from falling into his chest. Your hands grip his jacket for balance, and he reaches up to hold one of them with his own. "You got plans? With who? Cate? Cancel them."

"Brat." You laugh.

How demanding Jordan is would be less cute if they ever asked you to do something they themselves wouldn't. As it stands, with the way they do anything you ask at the drop of a hat, all you can do is roll your eyes and pretend to be exasperated instead of smitten.

"Fine, don't cancel. I'll just come with." Jordan sighs, as if seeing his best friend is a great tragedy (Which it is. Cate being there means you'll smack Jordan's hand away when he tries to sneak it up your skirt at dinner.)

"What if we want a girls' night?" You shoot back, grinning.

Jordan shifts. The hands on your waist are smaller now, but pull you in closer, "You're the one who's feeling bratty. Really have been neglecting you this week, huh baby?" Jordan smirks, in that condescending way she does when she realizes you're trying to get a certain reaction out of her.

"The plans aren't with Cate, and they aren't cancellable." You sigh, deciding not to rise to the bait of her tone, smirk, or the little circles she's rubbing into your skin.

"What are these oh so important plans?" Jordan asks.

"Do you know how many white boys have complimented my hair today, Jordan?" You ask.

"Pardon?" Jordan blinks at what seems to be a completely unrelated topic.

"Six! Six white boys complimented my braids today. I'm about to kill myself, if we're being honest. I must looked fucked up, and you didn't even say anything." You pout.

You've been having a bit of a rough day, to say the least.

"You look beautiful. What are you talking about?" Jordan asks, confused but nonetheless, wanting to make you feel better. "If you didn't look good I'd very politely... have Cate tell you. But you look great! You've been getting compliments all day, you just said it yourself!"

"Wow, you'd throw Cate under the bus, huh coward?"

"Cate isn't interested in making out with you every spare second of the day. I am. You can be mad at her. I've got stuff I wanna do." Jordan's grin is downright salacious. You smack her arm, trying not to smile.

"Ah. You are operating under the same delusions of the white man. I see that now, I'll let go of the anger." You say, sighing and kissing Jordan on the cheek.

"First of all, don't you ever fucking insult me like that again.... Second of all, what particular delusion am I sharing with the white man?" Jordan asks.

"White men only compliment a black woman's hairstyle at two points in time. When it's brand spanking, fresh off the lot new. Or when it's started to look like shit. I've had these braids in for longer than... is your business. So guess which compliment I'm getting right now?"

"I fucking refuse to say your hair looks like shit, and this conversation feels like a trap. You're always beautiful to me." Jordan says.

"Thank you, baby. But we live on a campus where the diversity win photographers lurk around every corner trying to get pictures of 'The Diversity Win Couple' in our most natural state. I need to take out my braids tonight before I talk crazy in the group chat, and Andre sends me a 'this you?' pic that will devastate my argument." You shake your head somberly, already imagining the fate that lies before you.

"You could stop talking crazy in the group chat." Jordan teases.

"You know damn well I'm not capable of that."

The two of you burst into laughter, unable to keep it together. Jordan has always been obsessed with how easy it is for you to make them laugh.

"Is that gonna take up your whole night, though, baby? We don't have to go to dinner early! We'll go wherever you want." Jordan insists, tone bordering on begging.

Whenever they come out of a particularly busy week, they spend the next two weeks glued to you. As if to make up for it. The clinginess is a stark difference from how they acted before you made things official.

"Jordan, look at the braids on my head."

"I'm looking at them."

"Are you seeing them with your eyes?"

"Yes, and my eyes are sending the image to my brain, which I assure you is working. What's your point here, baby?"

"How long do you think it will take me to undo these, detangle my hair, wash it, deep condition it, and then wash it again?"

Jordan squints at you for a long moment, analyzing your hairstyle and the utter displeasure on your face. "I dunno? Maybe... four hours?"

"I should fucking murder you. Just for that, you're helping me with wash day now."

Jordan's face breaks into a grin like sunlight breaking through clouds, "So I do get to spend the day with you, is what you're saying?"

"Yeah, baby, you get to spend the day with me." You click your tongue at them. Pitying them for the ache in their fingers they're about to feel. They complain about curling their God damn hair a couple of times a week. You suspect you'll be ready to kill one another by hour two.

But you also missed them a lot. Or whatever.

"Don't cut too high up, Jordie. " You whine, shifting his grip lower on your braid, to an acceptable cutting length of the hair extension.

"Baby... can I ask you a very serious question right now?" Jordan hums, obediently cutting where you instructed.

"What?" You ask, already starting to unbraid the piece.

"How... long... do you think your hair is?" Jordan, to be fair to him, does ask the question quietly and with the proper amount of hesitation.

"How dare you! Are you calling me bald?" You gasp, stifling a laugh.

"Don't do this to me. You are prolonging the process. We can cut these braids at least four inches higher than what we're doing right now." Jordan says, you can't see his face but you can tell he's also trying not to laugh. Bastard.

"My hair grew!"

"From the top of your head. It did not magically lower itself further into the fucking braid extension." Jordan loses the battle and laughs.

"Jordan Li do not fucking cut off any of my hair or I'll cry and then blow up this school."

"Of course, princess." Jordan kisses the top of your head and gives in to your terrorist demands because you're cute.

"So how am I supposed to do it, baby?" Jordan claps her hands and you smile at how eager she sounds to help.

"You're gonna want to section it off. Do like... eight parts of hair. That'll make literally every step after this easier. Then you're gonna comb the hair from the bottom, 'kay?"

"Got it."

Jordan starts the process of parting your hair, careful and slow. Fingers sectioning off eight chunks of hair that she keeps apart with the silky hair ties you hand her over your shoulder.

"You sure you don't want me to comb it, Jordie?" You ask Jordan.

"I'll be gentle, don't worry. You always say your shoulders hurt at the end of wash day. Which is crazy, because I've seen what you can bench. I've got you, baby." She spritzes extra detangler spray on each of the parts she just made.

You move around slightly, a little sore already from sitting still between her legs for so long, but smiling to yourself nonetheless. A pillow is suddenly shoved into your face and you lean away, confused.

"Sit on this one instead. It'll be better." Jordan says.

You switch out the pillows and tilt your head back to look at her. "Why're you always right? Is that your kink?"

"No, my kink is bossing you around." Jordan smirks and leans down to give you a kiss. Despite the awkward angle you can't help trying to deepen the contact. The feeling of her soft lips sliding against yours, firm but gentle, is always irresistible.

She hums and gives you a playful nip before pulling away. "Don't start something we can't finish."

"Who says we can't?" You shoot back, staring up at her.

"You will be pissed an hour from now if you glance at your phone and we haven't made any progress." Jordan runs her thumb along your bottom lip before pushing your head forward.

"Who says it will take an hour?"

"I do. If we start, I'm not stopping." Jordan's voice dips seductively and a line of tension runs up the length of your spine.

You smack her thigh for teasing you, "Shut up."

"Is this comfortable?" Jordan frowns, staring at the angle your head has to be at to fit in the bowl of the sink.

"No, but this is the best angle this chair can get me to." You say. Usually you just wash in the shower, but since Jordan is helping the sink makes more sense.

Jordan stands, scowling at how uncomfortable you seem. Suddenly he grins, "Baby! Make a chair with your shields. Something that leans."

You were getting a lot better with being able to make complex shapes, with less concentration. You stand up from the chair you'd dragged from the common room. Jordan pulls it out of the way and gives you an encouraging thumbs up.

It takes you a minute, but you conjure a shield that resembles a salon chair and the both of you let out identical cries of delight.

Jordan pushes you to sit down with a kiss on your forehead. "That's my fucking girl. Tell me if the temperature is too hot."

Jordan washes your hair with the perfect amount of pressure and thoroughness. He's nearly rhythmic in his methodical cleaning. You didn't realize your eyes had fluttered closed until you hear him laugh. You open one eye to glare at him playfully, knowing he won't get soap in them.

"What's so funny?"

"You're like a cat. You gonna purr for me, baby?" He smirks.

"If you keep going like that, yeah. Or I'll fall asleep. Please don't make me fall asleep. I'll fall on my ass." You say.

"I'll endeavor to make the rest of the wash as unpleasant as possible."

He does not do that. And at one point you do fall asleep. Jordan catches you before you can actually fall. 'Thank God for Supe reflexes', you both think. You spend the rest of the wash with your eyes wide open and Jordan laughing at you.

"Did we put too much?" Jordan asks, dabbing at another drip of oil and conditioner down your brow.

"No, this is typical. The hair has to be saturated. It's dripping because the oil is you know... getting hot and even more liquid-y." You say, eyeing the episode of Property Brother's you'd both decided on. "Hm. I think that woman should be put to death."

Jordan was keeping vigilant about dabbing at the sides of your face. You'd been in charge of one side, at first. But Jordan seemed to have a sixth sense for when the other side was dripping as well, and kept interrupting you before you could get to any trickles of oil. You'd given up and just started narrating the show for her as she wasn't taking her eyes off the line of your brow.

"Why? What did she do?" Jordan dabs again.

"She wants to put up a fence that blocks the view of the historical house that she did not have to buy if she wanted a fence so bad." You roll your eyes.

"Is the city gonna let her?"

"No."

"Haha. 500k down the drain." Jordan cackles.

"Anti-gentrification win!" You hold out your fist for a fist-bump and Jordan obediently obliges, oil soaked rag still held in her fist.

A comfortable silence falls over you two, besides the noise of the portable hair dryer.

"I really think we put too much, baby." Jordan mutters, dabbing again.

"I have been doing this since I was twelve, Jordan!"

"Play the video again, one speed slower this time." Jordan's eyes are glued to your phone.

You're sitting between his legs again, cushioned by the (superior) pillow of his choosing. You were trying to decide on a simple hair style when Jordan saw a picture of Mini Twists and got excited to see you in them.

("You've already seen me in mini twists, Jordie. What are you talking about?"

"You weren't my girlfriend the last time you wore them though! Now you are, and I get to look at you as much as I want."

So that had decided that.)

"Okay, I think I got it. 'M gonna start with a braid base, without making the parts too big, then start twisting the hair with two strands, and that will make it last longer, right?"

"Right." You smile at how focused Jordan sounds.

They're hot when they're in the zone. You just didn't think they'd get so into helping you with your hair. But you should have known, really. Acts of service paired with their inner perfectionist? You're completely relaxed at this point. You know Jordan won't have you walking out of your room looking crazy, come hell or high water.

"Is this okay?" Jordan shows you a picture of the back of your head, three rows of twists done.

You gasp, snatching the phone, "That's my head?"

"Uh... yes?" Jordan answers slowly.

"The back of my head? The head on my body?"

"Should I start over?"

"Fuck you! These are almost better than mine. Who's hair are you playing around in when I'm not here, Jordan LI?"

"Stop using my fucking government name." Jordan tilts your head back to look at him with a gentle grip on your neck, grinning down at you. "You play too fucking much. You sure they're good, princess? It's okay if I need to redo them."

"I'm gonna give you orgasms that will make you lose brain cells."

"Baby!" Jordan laughs, rolling his eyes. "I'm serious. Do any of them need redoing?"

"The first row is really fucking good for a beginner but the second row is damn near perfect." You say.

"I'll redo the first row then." Jordan kisses your temple before moving you to face forward again.

"I said they were good!" You protest.

"But the second row is better. I want the whole thing to look good. Don't want you feeling self conscious cause I fucked up the style, y'know." Jordan mumbles.

You tilt your head back to look at him, ignoring him sucking his teeth (a habit he picked up from you) at you moving.

"I love you, Jordie. Thank you for helping me today." You coo.

You watch his face go red with a grin. He grins back, leaning down to give you a gentle kiss. When he tries to pull away too soon you whine, holding him close by the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Wanna kiss you. You're sweet." You breathe the words against his lips, insistently continuing the caress.

He sighs, smitten, and let's you lead for a moment. Hand finding it's way back to your neck and tightening just enough to make you gasp. Still, he pulls away too quickly.

"I'm gonna fuck you up." You scowl at him.

"The only thing you're gonna fuck up is your neck, brat. This is a horrible angle for you." Jordan's smile is so soft at the edges it's your turn to blush.

"Speak for yourself."

"No, I'm too busy speaking on behalf of your neck."

"Well, I'm speaking on behalf of my-"

"Pussy?"

"I was going to say raging hormones but that's a lot more to the point, yeah. Or maybe I was going to say something romantic. You ever think of that, Jordie? Huh?"

"Were you going to say something romantic?" Jordan hums.

"No."

"Let me do your hair in peace." Jordan turns you forward again with a laugh.

"Turn this way." Jordan instructs, snapping another picture.

"I don't know whether you're worse than an Instagram hair stylist or a Mom." You ponder, words barely audible because your girlfriend is scary.

"Shut up and smile." Jordan scowls.

As if engraved into your genetic code the words make you do just that. You suffer through another 20 pictures being taken before you say enough is enough.

Jordan happily shows you the pictures, as if you hadn't seen yourself in the mirror just a minute ago. Or ever. The grin on her face so wide it looks like it hurts.

"You like it, baby?" Jordan asks again.

"It looks so good, Jordie. It looks like I paid someone honestly."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." You drape your arms around her shoulders. "How's this angle?"

"For what?" Jordan tilts her head to the side, puzzled.

"For kissing. Since you were so worried about the angle before."

Jordan scoffs, but she's the one to pull you in. She doesn't pull away this time.

A/N: i needed reader to have a goofball vibe because i have a goofball vibe. if you enjoyed this fic consider reblogging, leaving a reply, or an anonymous ask saying you enjoyed it! a writers fuel is engagement. xoxoxo

[plead-au]

a compilation of recent PLE:AD AU-related drawings. sorted by oldest to latest

[foxhouse]

he wouldve had a scythe if mihoyo weren’t cowards

[ridaine]

The butterfly or the spider?

[shima-draws]

Currently in the middle of reading a Lawlu soulmate fic and it’s SUPER cute so far but the best thing is that Law is also Cora’s (platonic) soulmate, and Cora’s got the ‘You won’t see in color until you meet your soulmate’ kind of bond. Except it fluctuates depending on Law’s health, and Law runs purely on caffeine and spite, so Cora will text him being like “Hey. For some strange reason I currently cannot see the color red. Would you happen to know anything about that” and Law is just like “Uhhh. No??” and Cora’s like “Law I swear to GOD you’d better stop pulling all nighters do not make me come over there” LMAO