#Super glue activator

[snickerdoodlles]

a little Nong Nao example postcard for the @mailed-it exchange :D

I was entertaining myself the other week thinking about all the things Nong Nao's been subjected to, and then came up with this little collage idea. going thru the show and collecting some of my favorite (and most memorable!) PatPran ridiculousness for the screencaps in here was v fun hehe.

Just as a reminder, fandom nominations for the exchange are still open through Thursday! If you're interested, you can fill out the nominations form here (and see the current nominations here) :D

[heatherwitch]

Mountain Cottontail skull

[twilight-zoned-out]

With the Thunderbolts being promoted as the New Avengers, I wanted to see where they would "fit" with the original lineup.

Bob/Sentry - Bruce Banner/Hulk: Bob and Bruce share similar backgrounds and similar "uncontrollable" powers, except the other Thunderbolts seem much more sympathetic and understanding to Bob than the Avengers so hopefully he won't be done as dirty as the MCU did Hulk.

Ava/Ghost - Natasha/Black Widow: Despite there being an actual Red Room person on the team, I think Ava fits the technical slot of Black Widow more. She's good at sneaking into and out of places and can usually find a "last minute" escape for her teammates against the odds. She's reliable but, like Natasha in the earlier films, her teammates wondered about her ulterior motives. Like Nat, Ava also has difficult getting close to others, though in this case it's additionally because of her particle instability.

Alexei/Red Guardian - Thor: Both Alexei and Thor reminisce on their past conquests, holding them in high regard. They also feel a strong duty to their homeland. Like Thor, Alexei is the most openly friendly and carries humor similarly to how Thor would in previous films, sometimes at the expense of being tone deaf to his teammates. Thor was also from a different planet, though, so Alexei is slightly more socially aware.

John Walker - Tony Stark/Iron Man: Self-important, concerned with his own image, kind of a nuisance to deal with, but also "the best" at what he's supposed to do. Deals with a lot of personal issues that the other teammates don't realize (unless someone like Bucky reveals them). Often brings up useful information and strategy. Also, based on his turnaround from FatWS to Thunderbolts, he might end up having the most character redemption/transformation out of the group (depending on however long they intend to use these characters, which will hopefully be a good amount of time).

Bucky Barnes - Steve Rogers/Captain America: Bucky and Yelena were the biggest toss-up between Cap and Hawkeye, but I decided that Bucky is still essentially the main strategist and leader of the group. He's the one who got everyone to their location, he's a super-soldier who wants to se his talents to help but gets fed up by bureaucracy, and it's sort of understood in the group that he has his own private life that doesn't really overlap. He's shown along with Yelena to have the most competent leadership during the end credits, and he's the most well known (aside from John Walker) to the in-universe public, so he has the "oldest" reputation to deal with when he interacts with others.

Yelena - Clint Barton/Hawkeye: Yelena is the glue. Her and Bucky are shown as the most active leaders in the end credits, but she's not flashy in the way that Tony Stark was. She's exceptionally skilled and well-rounded in both strategy and fighting, but her strongest asset is being able to communicate with others. Clint was the most "human" of the group, and he helped keep all of his teammates' personalities from blowing up against each other. Every time he left, the Avengers imploded. Clint was also the most willing to offer second chances, and Yelena shares that willingness to risk herself to help someone else. Like Clint, she doesn't always immediately jump to fighting; she tries to reason with others if fighting isn't necessary. She's the most emotionally open; she realizes and begins to prioritize real relationships and a life outside of the job.

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

[Sneak Peek]

Southern Hospitality

Summary: Sort of a synopsis. An introduction of Terry. This sneak peek will be two parts.

Warnings: Violence, Smut

Terry Richmond entered the basement of his townhome in Charlotte, North Carolina and opened his ruck. After a long, harsh winter, he decided to organize some things to prepare for Spring. Swiping dust off of totes with his calloused hands, he situated himself on his knees for a better look. There, folded neatly on top, were his old cammies. Desert cammies. Ratty and bleached by sand and sun and blemished with the petroleum rain that fell from the oil-well fires in Kuwait.

Terry rose to a standing position again, shaking out the camo pants. He slipped off his black ball shorts and stepped into them, memories suddenly returning. They still fit. He can’t shake the habit of staying in the best shape and active, especially with him being an MCMAP Instructor. During his earlier years as a Marine Raider, he exercised thirty hours a week. He buttoned the top and stroked the embroidery. Honorary pins still clung to the fabric.

Terry delve deeper and pulled out maps of Kuwait and Saudi Arabia. Patrol books. Pictures. Letters. His journal with its sparse entries. Coalition propaganda pamphlets. Brass bore punch for the M40A2 sniper rifle. A handful of .50 caliber projectiles. Terry wondered what he must look like to the late night walker passing by his basement windows: the mad old warrior going through his memorabilia, triggering his unresolved PTSD and looking for trouble.

No, he isn’t mad. Some days are better than others, but he isn’t mad. He’s after something. Memory, yes. A reel. More than just time. It’s almost a year since. Just at the end of April he’d be turning thirty–three. And a year prior he spent it with his fellow soldiers over drinks that lead to him dropping nine inches of whopping girth in seasoned pussy. Flashes of her haunted his mind like the sound of grenades and cries of pain. Then his thoughts drifted to a vibrant thing that wanted to see the world. Using his pleasure stick for her own no good reasons.

And there, amongst many photos with comrades, is the man that saw something in him. His own version of a super soldier. Like a son he never had. Terry blinked slowly as his thick fingers smoothed over the edges of the photograph…

August, 2021:

Lieutenant General Swanwick’s authoritarian voice could be heard over the public address system within the base gym. Terry Richmond was currently lifting a few hundred pounds over his chest with another Marine named Rodney spotting him. Terry was just twenty–nine years old then. Sweat poured from his body and onto the gym floor and his dog tags clung to his chest as if his sweat were glue.

Terry blew air from his cheeks that sounded like the low whistle of an exhaust pipe, “Six…seven…eight—”

“All personnel from MARSOC are ordered to report immediately to battalion headquarters. Get some, Raiders!”

Terry felt his chest grow tighter with anticipation. Deployment was inevitable. Terry rushed to gather himself, throwing on his tank top and buttoning his camouflage jacket. All things in order, he and the remaining MARSOC stationed in Virginia mad their way to Headquarters. He could sense the anxious energy from everyone in that room. Terry’s turquoise eyes veiled with dark lashes never blinked as Lieutenant General Swanwick’s outline of their battle against Iraqi and Kuwait unfolded. Terry gritted his teeth and tightened his jaw.

It’s war time.

On August 8th, the MARSOC arrive in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. Terry debarked the plane, the oven heat of the Arabian Desert gripping his throat. In the distance the wind blows sand from the tops of dunes, cresting beige waves that billow like silk through the mirage. The tarmac is filled with American civilian jumbo jets—American, Delta, United. They flew United. The scene at the airfield is how any busy international airport would be, only they were dressed in fatigues and carrying loaded rifles, their gas masks strapped to their hips.

Just beyond the tarmac, artillery batteries point their guns East and North. Fighter jets patrol the sky. During the dreaded twenty–hour flight, their mode of debarkation was debated—tactical or general—and Terry hoped for a tactical approach—live rounds and a defensive perimeter could be the only authentic introduction to a theater of war. They marched in a single–filed line towards a series of large, bright green Bedouin tents. They entered and immediately went to retrieve bottled water and attempt to stay cool by draping wet skivvy shirts over their heads.

“Ya’ll better drink up enough water. I don’t need my Raiders passing out from heat stroke when we gotta keep our eyes open and on our targets,” Swanwick drilled.

His hat remained low enough to cloak his eyes, giving him a no–nonsense look. He meant business. Terry caught his eye while gulping down cold water. Swanwick motioned for him to come over. Terry came face–to–face with the Lieutenant General.

“Aight there, son?” Swanwick quietly said.

“I’m chill, Lieutenant,” Terry replied with confidence.

“Good to hear. Don’t let these fools throw you off your game, Richmond. You’re one of the best. And I need you alive.”

“After a rigorous seven–months to transform into the elite, I don’t plan on it.”

“That’s right,” Swanwick gripped Terry’s shoulder firm, “now, let’s show ‘em who we are.”

Terry cracked a smile filled with hunger for what was to come. He knew just how much the others despised his presence. Some felt he wasn’t worthy or qualified to be among them.

After an hour in the tents, colonel calls a battalion formation and proudly announces that they are taking part in Operation Desert Shield. He explains that the Kuwaiti–Iraqi conflict in not yet their concern, but currently their mission is to protect, to shield, Saudi Arabia and her flowing oil–fields. Low grumbles could be heard throughout.

“HEY. Not every day blood is shed!”

Terry chuckled while kicking away at sand beneath his boots. He was surrounded by a bunch of antsy men. That energy alone could get them killed.

“One step at a time,” Swanwick motioned to his men, “Let’s get to it.”

They dispersed to get a sense of the area, laughing amongst themselves with jokes about going from the Marine Corps to Oil Corps. Beneath the loud sounds of chuckles and belly laughs, they knew that reality was near, and death could be knocking on their door. Terry’s laughter drifted away like the swirling sand that painted his golden skin an ashy color.

As days stretched out, it consisted of sand and water and piss. They walk and drive over the sand and drink gallons of water. Six times a day they gathered for formation and swallowed two canteens per man, and between formation they consumed more water.

Six weeks later and Terry found himself sitting in a chow hall and watching Lieutenant General Swanwick talk closely with other high ranking officers. Terry tucked into his beans and sausages with a steady gaze locked on their table. His skin had browned so deep it was akin to burnished bronze. It made his eyes pop vividly and the ink on his arms more bold and daring.

His eyes were dry and irritated from staring at maps all day, his muscles ached from the makeshift equipment they used to pump iron. He grew tired of sleeping amongst men that couldn’t go a night without jacking off to crumbled polaroids of their women back home. Terry wanted to get in the field. He’d already gotten into several fights and the skin beneath his left eye had just began to heal from a nasty bruise.

Swanwick’s shoulders tensed. What could that mean? Were they heading for battle? He watched the father figure walk away and out of the chow hall. Terry scarfed down the rest of his meal before cleansing his palate with water. He made his way towards the exit in search of Swanwick. He was standing a few feet away, staring up at the full moon. Terry glanced up himself, his eyes taking in the pale white moon. It was beauty surrounded by an impending chaos.

“Lieutenant General…”

Swanwick glanced over his shoulder.

“Richmond. Enjoy your meal?”

“You can only have but so much beans.” Terry complains.

“Good fiber fuels the body.” Swanwick replied.

A stillness surrounded them for a minute.

“What we lookin’ like, Sir?”

Swanwick dipped his head.

“Can’t tell you much…but it’s looking like rifles at the ready.”

Terry’s back stiffened.

“I know that’s music to your ears, soldier.”

“Music to all our ears.”

No showers, no rack, no wadi in sight, no oasis.

Terry needed to feel as if his skills were being used. Tested. He felt trapped. Isolated.

Sergeant James and Lieutenant General Swanwick gathered the platoon in a school circle under the plastic infrared cover. It’s before zero nine and already one hundred degrees.

Their platoon commands three Humvees, and the vehicles are under IR cover. Ideally, weapons, vehicles, and personnel shielded under the netting will avoid detection by enemy infrared devices. Terry wasn’t convinced. Why believe in the effectiveness of IR netting when the drink tube on your gas mask breaks every time you don–and–clear during a training nerve–gas raid? When the best maintenance for the PRC–76 radio, the Prick, is the Five–Foot Drop?

Apparently, press will visit for a few days, and Sergeant James and Lieutenant General Swanwick already recited a list of unacceptable topics. No divulging data concerning capabilities of their sniper rifles or optics and the length and intensity of their training. They’ve been ordered to act like top Marines, patriots, shit–hot hard dicks, the best of the battalion. As the scout/snipers, they’ve been handpicked by the executive officer and the s–2 officer to serve as the eyes and ears of the battalion commander.

“Listen up,” James says, “I’ve gone over this already, but the Lieutenant wants to go over it again. Basically, don’t get specific. Say you can shoot from far away. Say you are highly trained, that there are no better shooters in the world than Marine Snipers. Say you’re excited to be here and you believe in the mission and that we’ll annihilate the Iraqis. Take off your shirts and show your muscles. We’re gonna run through some calisthenics for them. Doc John, give us a RAIDERS workout. Keep it simple, snipers.”

Terry spoke, “it ain’t simple. This is censorship. You’re telling me what I can and can’t say to the press? Why are they even allowed in this space anyway?”

Kuehn, a fellow marine says, “Not our place to say what we can and can’t do—”

“Wasn’t addressing you, Kuehn.” Terry quipped.

“I speak for all of us when I say this. You got a mouth on you, Richmond.” Kuehn argued back.

“Aight now,” Swanwick warned.

The tension between the Marines grew to a fever pitch.

“Oh, so you the voice of war now, huh? You call the shots? How that happen?”

Soft chuckles coming from the other Marines seemed to embarrass Kuehn.

“Shut the fuck up, Richmond! You don’t even belong here!” Kuehn shouted ragefully.

“My reputation for accuracy says otherwise, Kuehn. But you wouldn’t know about that though. Too much piss on your boots.”

The chuckling intensified.

Kuehn approached Terry with his chest puffed out. Terry stood at 6 '3 with his arms folded, towering over a 5' 9 Kuehn. The tallest man there. Terry’s stony eyes never faltered. Beady glacial–blue eyes stared up at him filled with rage. Kuehn’s usual pasty, alabaster skin was sun–burned and red from the scorching Saudi heat.

“You think you’re better than me, Richmond?! Huh?!”

“I know I am, pissy boots—”

“RICHMOND!” Sergeant James shouted.

Kuehn wouldn’t get out of Terry’s personal space.

“Don’t get your ass beat again, Kuehn, get up out my face—”

Kuehn shoves Terry and immediately a fight breaks out. Fists flying with connecting punches and heavy grunts. The circle widened and cheers amongst fellow Raiders drowned out the high ranking officers trying to call it off. Terry forced Kuehn into a headlock and slammed him to the sand, his eyes suddenly burning from the minerals coating his lashes. He repeatedly punched Kuehn, causing him to shield his face with his forearms. It took three men to get Terry off of him.

Terry was ushered into one of the green tents by a frustrated Lieutenant.

“RICHMOND! STAND DOWN!”

Shirt bundled up revealing a taunt six–pack, bottom lip poked out and bleeding from a hairline slit, face dusty and jet black hair stained with sand, he kept his fists balled and his eyes locked on Kuehn as he was lifted from the ground.

“You lost your mind, Boy?!”

Sergeant James marched up to Terry and pressed his face so close to his Terry could smell the nicotine on his breath.

“Swanwick you better get your star pupil in line before I do. You put your hands on Kuehn again, I’ll send you back to Virginia, understand?”

Terry remained silent with fury. Only his heavy breathing could be heard.

“Terry?” Swanwick called out to him, “You hear that?”

“Yes, Sir Serg.” Terry said through gritted teeth.

“You don’t like my orders?”

Swanwick pressed a firm hand against James’ chest.

“I got it, James. We’ll be out.”

James’ lethal gaze never left Terry as he backed away. Terry didn’t falter.

“What was that, Richmond?” Swanwick whispered.

“Self–defense. Kuehn put his hands on me first, Lieutenant. You don’t see Serg talking to him do you? I know what it is…”

Swanwick shut his eyes.

“Which means that you gotta be on your best behavior. I want you to succeed, Richmond. I already know you're the best of the Veteran Raiders. Stop letting them get to your head.”

Terry was released. He fixed his army green T-shirt that clung to his body like a second skin from the sweat. He rearranged the dog tags hanging from his neck. Swanwick grasped his shoulder.

“Terry…”

“I got it.”

Swanwick hesitated before stepping aside while Terry walked out of the tent with his usual gait. Just as he was attempting to simmer his anger, Sergeant James was giving another speech.

“…You do as you're told. You signed the contract. You have no rights, you can’t speak out against your country. We call that treason. You can be shot for it. Goddamnit, we’re not playing around. Training is over. Tell your complaints to Abdul Latif Rashid. See if he cares.”

He bit his tongue. Terry wanted to come to the defense of free speech, but he knew it would be useless. The language they own is not theirs, it is not a private language, but deprived from Marine Corps history and lore and tactics.

The Marine Corps birthday? 10 November 1775, The Marine Corps is older than the United States of America. Birthplace? Tun Tavern, Philadelphia, a gang of drunks and big balls. Tarawa? Bloodiest battle of WWII. Dan Daly? He killed thirty–seven Chinese by hand during the Boxer Rebellion. Deadliest weapon on earth? The marine and his rifle. Terry had to conform to those standards, speak like it.

Reporters are arriving to ask what they thought about the desert, waiting for war. He’ll answer that he likes it; he’s prepared for anything that might come his way. They’re due at their position by 0900. Terry leaves the free speech argument and walked to their straddle trench. He needed to empty his bowels. There’s no seat in a straddle trench, but he’s been punished many times, for hours on end, in the squat position. It reminded him of Korea, where he spent a month of his last deployment. Most public restrooms in Korea had straddle holes, he’d spent many times there emptying the contents of his stomach after walking away from a bar booth.

Terry looked at the sky, blue like no blue he’d known before, and at the desert that would not stop. This is the pain of the landscape, worse than the heat, worse than the flies—there is no getting out of the land. No stopping. After six weeks of deployment, the desert is in him, one particle at a time—his boots and belt and pants and gas mask and weapons are covered and filled with sand. Sand invaded his body: ears and eyes and nose and mouth and piss hole. The desert is everywhere. The mirage is everywhere. Awake, asleep, high heat of the afternoon or the few soft, sunless hours of early morning.

The destination to free Kuwait.

The following day, the press–pool colonel and his driver wait in the Land Rover, the air–conditioning blowing the colonel’s hair into fine white wisps of artillery smoke. Terry nibbled on his full bottom lip, gnawing at the tender spot where he’d been clipped while fighting Kuehn. He wore his blacked–out shades, a white tank, and his camouflage pants with sand–covered boots. They gathered under the IR netting and the reporters introduced themselves. There’s a man from the Boston Globe and the woman from the New York Times.

Terry recognized the woman

Toccara Chester. Broadcast and Political Reporter and Journalist. She’s committed to factual reporting, but known for being competitive and headstrong, which tended to rub people the wrong way.

Terry aligned himself next to Rodney, a friend and fellow Marine. He clasped his hands behind his back and looked around him before focusing his gaze on Toccara. They took turns going down the line, shaking hands and urging them to speak freely, but they know about the scripted preparation. The answers to their questions have already been written on the Raiders faces, though maybe not in their hearts. Toccara Chester looked bored, or at least not very interested in what they might tell her.

She stood before Terry, reaching out a hand to shake his. He glanced down at her almond–shaped nails painted red. She wore a white tank as well, her layered blunt cut hair swept away from her face. Fitted, khaki cargo pants hugged her hour–glass shape and hiking boots in various earth–toned colors were on her feet. The beauty mark on her right cheek made her look glamorous like those old Hollywood actress’. A small smile teased her sultry lips.

“What’s your name, Marine?”

“Richmond.” Terry responded with an unreadable expression.

“I’m Toccara. Happy to be here. Looking forward to seeing how things go in your camp.”

Terry dipped his head slightly, his eyes trailing behind her as she moved on.

Rodney leans into Terry to whisper, “You see that ass on her? Fatter than I expected.”

Terry chuckled softly with a shake of his head. He never took his eyes off of Toccara as he tilted his head to whisper a reply.

“Calm down, Rod. She ain’t fuckin’ you.”

Rodney nudged Terry in his ribs.

“I ain’t have pussy in months! She just might work.”

“Chill, man,” Terry said with a laugh.

After the introductions, the MARSOC dispersed to train and perform for the reporters. Much to Terry’s displeasure. Toccara sashayed up and down that camp, recorder in hand and a camera hanging from her neck. She had a little spiral notepad in her back pocket. Beyond her aviators, Terry had a feeling she was watching him. She was positioned within his proximity too often. Like there weren’t many other Marines on duty. Swanwick and the other officers stood by with a hawk–eyed look.

Terry finished his workout and now he was busy cleaning his sniper rifle. The dainty sound of a throat clearing to gain his attention made him pause. Terry peered down over his shoulder at Toccara with her recorder at the ready, pointed at his face.

“Tryna keep from being interviewed, Terry?”

So, she got his first name, huh?

“Tryna stay on track, Toccara. If you didn’t notice by now, we’re pretty busy.”

“Mind giving me a few minutes of your time, Marine?”

Terry exhaled. Rather loud. She overlooked everything he said. Busy. As in leave him alone.

He turns, craning his neck so she could reach his mouth better.

“Go on.” Terry said.

Toccara tilted her head with a grin.

“Do you believe that your Special Ops will defeat the Iraqi?”

“Yes, ma’am, I believe in our mission. I believe we will quickly win this war and send the enemy crawling home.”

Toccara nodded her head, “Sounds like you’re proud to be here.”

“Ye, ma’am, I’m proud to be here serving my country. Standing up to evil. Take ‘em all down.”

Toccara cracked a smile, “Well rehearsed, Marine.”

Terry clenched his jaw. He glanced to the left before fixing his eyes on her again.

“Where are you from, Richmond?”

“Born in Louisiana, raised in North Carolina, ma’am.”

“Uh-huh, what made you enlist?”

“I joined when I was eighteen rather than go to jail for a few years. Petty stuff. My grandfather was a Marine. And his father. And so on. It was this or a life of wrong choices.”

“What was the petty stuff?”

Terry quirked a brow at her. Toccara stood her ground, seemingly waiting for him to speak.

“Possession. Running behind my cousin.”

“Hm…over a little weed?”

Terry couldn’t help but laugh. Toccara’s high cheekbones shown.

“How ‘bout that shit? But I’m proud of what the Corps has made me.”

“What is it about being a Marine Raider? What struck you?”

“Uh,” Terry stroked his stubble, “This is about freedom, not about oil. It’s about–it’s about standing up to aggression…”

Sergeant James took his time walking around, drawing closer to Terry. Terry caught his eye. Toccara took notice at Terry’s body language. She felt Sergeant James’ presence on her back.

“…Like the president says. Nobody wants to go to war. We just got to be ready. I can shoot out someone’s eye ball from a klick away. Ain’t no better shot in the world.”

Toccara’s expression hardened.

“Are you proud to serve this country, Terry?”

Terry huffed, “Didn’t I answer this question?”

“Not really.”

Her response was met with dry laughter, “Ha…Okay,” Terry shifted his weight, “I’m proud to serve. This is what I signed for. I’m gonna make my pop and mom proud. I’m from Lincoln Heights. My mom talkin’ bout making a parade for me like they do back in NOLA. My mama say the whole neighborhood is behind me.”

“That must make you feel good.”

“Does.”

“Is your mother scared about you being here?”

“She don’t necessarily feel good about me being here. She writes me letters about watching my ass and don’t try being a hero and watch out for my buddies.”

Terry smoothed sand beneath his feet.

“And your dad?”

Terry’s eyes met hers. There was a momentary silence, one that created tension.

“I think our interview is over, Miss Chester. I gotta head back…”

Terry turned to leave. Toccara caught up with him and grabbed his arm to pull him back. Terry exhaled a frustrated sigh. Her beautiful face with wind–swept hair pleased his blue–green eyes despite his annoyance.

“Okay, okay. Didn’t mean to strike a nerve.”

Terry licked his lips, “aight. One more question.”

“Are you afraid?”

Terry blinked slowly at her.

“…I’m well trained and prepared to fight any menace in the world.”

“…so that’s a no?” Toccara sought clarification.

“RICHMOND!”

Swanwick ushered for him to come over.

“Looks like our times up. Hope you got what you needed.”

Terry jogged away.

“I STILL HAVE TWO MORE DAYS HERE!”

Terry rolled his eyes.

The taste of pecans lingered on his tongue. The Times reporter brought a football. Rodney and a few others tossed the ball back and forth, putting on a performance for Toccara. When eye candy is hard to come by so willingly, the men tend to act a fool, so foolish it turns corny. All day while she sauntered about with her recorder held high and hips swaying, none of the Raiders could focus. Terry couldn’t deny her sexy himself. They’re shirtless and revved up with flirtatious energy. The Boston Globe reporter, a frail, young caucasian man with bifocals and a man bun, stood next to Toccara. He’s soft–spoken, eager to hear from them.

Terry sat on the hood of a war machine with his foot hiked up. Toccara’s skin the color of maple syrup didn’t take much time to deepen beneath the blazing sun. She snapped photos from her digital camera. The sun was setting and it was almost time to eat. Terry planned to have a dinner and then use the portable shower. He hated the water pressure, but it’ll do for now.

Toccara tried her hardest to get detailed answers from them, and Terry could sense the irritation in her face as the first day came to an end. Looks like she wouldn’t be getting that juicy story she was expecting. Terry hopped down from his place on the war machine and tossed his empty packet into a nearby bin. He swiped his tongue over his teeth as he strolled with his usual gait towards the chow hall. Rodney had caught up with him, sweaty and shirtless, rocking into him before tossing an arm over his shoulder. His armpit reeked of sweat and musk. Terry pushed him away, swiping the air.

Inside, they accepted their meals and took their seats. Toccara and the Boston Globe Reporter took a seat at a nearly empty table. While the Boston Globe Reporter talked, Toccara stared off into space, water canteen hovering over her lips. Terry continued to eat, drowning out the conversations surrounding him. Swanwick and the other officers laughed amongst themselves, the most relaxed they’d ever been those six weeks.

Terry peered over his cup of water and noticed Toccara was gone, leaving the Boston Reporter to his notes. Terry checked his digital watch.

“Aight, I’m heading for the showers.”

Terry hopped up before getting rid of his empty tray of food. He wiped his hands and made his way out of the chow hall and toward the tent he slept in. He entered, retrieved his towel and wash cloth with the soap he used, and made his way towards the portable showers. It wasn’t a long walk. He made sure it was clear to undress. He quickly pulled his tank up and over his head, biceps bulging and torso flexing. Terry worked on his belt buckle and pants hastily lowering them with his briefs. His soft dick with coiled pubic hair surrounding it met the warmth of the night air.

He kicked off his boots haphazardly and began his shower. The soft droplets of water covered his body from head to toe. Terry scrubbed profusely, ridding his body of the sand and grime of the day. The scent of eucalyptus rose from his soap sponge. It reminded him of his shower times back at home. Just for a second. Terry cleaned every crevice before rinsing thoroughly. He opened his mouth, allowing the water to flood through before releasing it. He knew he was damn near over his limit, but the water felt too good.

Terry turned off the water and grabbed his towel. He dabbed away the water but not completely. It kept him cool at night. Terry wrapped the towel around his waist and slipped his feet into his boots, forgetting to bring his sleep bottoms with him. He took long strides back to his tent, happy to find it empty still.

He slipped on some grey joggers, a fresh pair of socks, and dropped on his makeshift bed. There was a hole above the tent that gave him the faintest view of the moon and stars. As he star–gazed, enjoying the peace and quiet before some of his bunk mates returned, he could hear noise on the outside of his tent. Terry cut his eyes towards the opening of the tent, and noticed the silhouette of a woman.

Toccara.

Terry sat up and slipped on his boots. He had a feeling she was up to something. He gently opened the tent and looked from left to right. Everyone was still inside of the chow hall. Terry walked out and searched around the camp. As he made his way towards the weapons section of the camp, he spotted Toccara with her camera like a typical reporter doing whatever it takes to get the latest scoop.

The low flicker from her trusty camera teased his ears. Terry wasted no time charging up to her. Toccara heard his footsteps and dropped her camera in the sand. She whirled around, eyes wide with shock. Terry furrowed his brows disapprovingly. Toccara’s brown eyes did a quick sweep over his naked upper half. When she met his eyes again, she looked guilty.

“What are you doing, Toccara?” Terry asked with a tone of anger.

“Just having a look. I can do that, can’t I?” She replied sassily.

“Not when it involves taking pictures. Pictures that can compromise our mission.”

Toccara crouched down to pick up her camera but Terry was quicker. He snatched the camera out of the sand and took it upon himself to see what she’d been photographing.

“Terry! Wait!”

“You crazy?” Terry flicked his eyes towards her, “Taking pics of our shit like it’s cool?”

“It’s just guns and grenades—”

“And we’re on enemy ground. They can see this shit if it gets out, you know that, right?”

Toccara remained silent and looked everywhere but at Terry. His eyes were too intense.

“Look at me. HEY.”

Toccara snapped her attention to his.

“I’m deleting every single one.”

“That’s my property,” Toccara said with a grimace.

“And this is my shit, right here,” Terry picked up his rifle, “my rifle, my pistol. My assigned weapons. All of this shit is assigned.”

“Whatever, just hurry up asshole!”

Terry glanced over his shoulder to see if anyone was nearby. He walked up to Toccara, his chest almost touching hers.

“Oh, look, he wants to scar me.” Toccara replied with sarcasm.

“You’re dead wrong. Didn’t you sign a consent agreement? I bet you didn’t read the fine print, did you?”

Toccara glared at Terry with her arms folded.

“A fine up to a couple hundred thousand. Sound like something you wanna do?”

Terry cocked his head down at her. Toccara tapped her foot. She was pissed. Visibly seething.

“Sorry, Miss New York Times, but that shit don’t fly over here.”

Terry made sure to delete them all. When he finished, Toccara reached for her camera. Terry didn’t make any moves to give it back.

“You take any more pictures, I’m breaking this shit, aight?”

Toccara’s left eyelid twitched. She flipped her hair from her face with one hand before rolling her eyes.

“I get it, okay? Now give me my fucking camera back.”

Terry hesitated. Toccara pursed her glossy lips. Finally, he held it out for her. Toccara snatched it from his grasp, eliciting a deep chuckle from his lips.

“Little dick, motherfucker.” She fired at him with a vengeful whisper.

Terry cracked a smile, amused by her. He dragged his eyes over her frame before backing away, one hand over his supposed ‘little dick’.

“Have a good rest of your evening, Miss Chester.”

Toccara turned on her heels, marching away. She was mumbling something else that Terry couldn’t make out, and it made him laugh harder. She’s used to getting her way.

Little dick.

Pssst.

@theereinawrites @bombshellbre95 @planetblaque @trippyscotch @megamindsecretlair @thesweetestdrug @theblulife @blackerthings @deja-r @kanafunee @kaylabuggggg06 @skyesthebomb @blyffe @gwenda-fav @beenathembo @dremmmm @novaniskye @melaninhawtie @urfavblackbimbo @avoidthings @rose-bliss @xo-goldengirl @kinginwithbreezy-blog @mysecertdiaryofableedingheart @sirenmouths @kokokonako @creartivefairy @soulfulbeauty19 @therealmrsrhodes @hrlzy @nayaesworld @playgurlxoxo @gg-trini @brattyfics @flydotty @writingsbytee @shiania @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @kismet83 @aristasworld @sl33p-deprived-princess @erynnnn @itssbrie @melaninangel @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @sweettea-and-honeybutter

[jjenthusee]

A Broken Mug

Pairing: Jason Todd x GN!Reader

a/n: i wrote this because of @janybabyy hilarious comments on my last angsty drabble. It made my morning and I wanted to also contribute some fluff as an apology lol (there also might be a little steamy scene if u squint) i love reading comments and reblogs so leave some if your comfortable ENJOY (also the angsty drabble is here)

tags: tons of fluff, shameless flirting

3.5k words

When Jason went out on patrol, you busied yourself filling the time with aimless activities and chores until he came home. You didn’t plan on trying to shift your sleep schedule with his reversed one, but with your lenient job and bad sleeping habits, nothing was really stopping you.

You got to see him come back from patrol and took naps on the couch together, so you didn’t see any problem with it. Tonight was also any other night that you were walking around the apartment getting any chores done.

Your usual weekly mop and washing your dishes at three in the morning was productive. Until you tried to see how many mugs you can try to carry from the drying mat to the cabinet, then you dropped two mugs.

An old shark mug that would be missed and Jason’s birthday mug you got him last year. You wished you could reverse time, but you stood there watching the mess you created.

Now with the broken pieces, a tube of super glue and your will, you sat on the floor studying how to put the mug back together. The rug in your living room doubled as your current operating table as you laid your supplies around the fragments of Jason’s previous birthday gift.

You had two hours to make it looked like nothing happen, not cry and figure out if you picked up all the pieces. Then apologize to Jason and promise to never pick up a mug again.

…

You looked at your finished handiwork, eyeing the glued ceramic pieces of Jason’s mug.

It looked bad. The glue had settled in some of the smaller pieces, but almost the entire tube was gone and you were out of options. Maybe some last finishing touches, but that wouldn’t fix the problem of it being broken in the first place and you weren’t sure if this was even safe to drink out of anymore. If it didn’t leak.

Now your boyfriend’s precious mug became the victim of your carelessness. The handle broke off completely and the rim had several chipped pieces. With a final attempt you managed to somehow pray that the handle fit and it did, but there were definitely pieces that didn’t fit that smoothly.

Luckily, when the mug fell it didn’t fall onto the floor like the other victim, but onto the kitchen counter. The impact could’ve been worse, but some higher understanding kept most of the mug still intact, but ceramic was fragile, so only so much could be held together against the force of gravity.

“Maybe he won’t notice?” You sighed defeatedly picking at the dried glue.

“Notice what?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin at Jason’s voice. You didn’t expect him to be casually standing near the window, standing tall behind you in full Red Hood gear.

You always did manage to forget about his stealth and agility. You nearly smacked him with a pan when you thought a burglar was in your kitchen when you first started dating. Good thing the flowers he brought with him were unharmed.

After closing the window, he slowly removed his leather jacket and gloves with visible exhaustion in his movements, relieved to remove a layer of his nightly outings.

“Welcome home.” You softly spoke, but a bit of strain crept into your voice at the realization that you didn’t clean your mess in time. You whipped your head back to your crime scene that sat in front of you.

Trying to act as naturally as possible, you capped the glue shut.

“Another night of being a handsome vigilante taking down kidnappers and stopping drug trafficking?” You teased as you shifted your body fully toward Jason, no doubt the slight hesitation in your voice giving you away, but you grabbed the tube of super glue, quickly shoving it in your sweatpants pocket as you spoke.

“Nah, only drug trafficking.” Jason lazily said, not paying direct attention to your awkward movements as he emptied his hidden arsenal of weapons off his body. “I made Roy handle the kidnappers.” A hint of amusement in his voice as he stretched his body, muscles contorting. The movement more visible with his jacket off.

“Only drug trafficking.” You tried mimicking him, giving a bad deep voice impression. You slid the mug closer to you, flush against your back so he wouldn’t see it from his angle.

Jason stopped in the middle of his post-patrol routine to look at you. His helmet tilting at you slightly, analyzing you.

Shit. He noticed something.

“Jay, my love, did you shine your helmet recently? It looks shiny and I couldn’t help but notice—“ Your voice quickly died as your gaze shifted from his red helmet down to his hands on his utility belt, lazily resting on the release latch. The look was…wow.

“Cleaner and polish.” Jason spoke slowly, clearly feeling smug under his helmet. He was all too familiar with that look in your eyes. You could practically see the smirk forming.

Click. The belt released as it fell loosely around his waist. Your mouth felt dry. You snapped yourself out of your thoughts.

You can eye-fuck him later, you wanted to hide the cup, but delaying your apology until tomorrow didn’t feel right.

Jason gave one last glance at you, then resumed his attention to his gear as he took the belt off.

“I was thinking we could eat something simple tonight…or morning? I guess it’ll technically be breakfast.” You shifted to get up, grabbing the cup along with you. Thankfully you were able to grab the handle while keeping your eyes on Jason, making sure it wasn’t entirely noticeable.

Jason removed his helmet, a puff of air releasing as he placed it on the dining table.

“Wanna cook something or pick up? It’s kinda limited since it’s early, but there’s always something open.” His voice was clearer, more defined without the modulator distorting it. A slight raspiness that poked at you.

Without the helmet, you could see Jason’s messy hair, matted in some places and fluffier in others, a slight stubble pricking his jaw and that sweet exhausted expression that made him mellow. Your heart raced every time you saw Jason’s face after a night of patrol.

You need to focus. You were getting distracted.

A distraction. That’s what you needed.

With the cup still held behind your back, you walked to Jason as he was placing his belt on the back of the dining chair. He didn’t expect the sudden closeness, but didn’t refrain from it. He looked more…curious than anything.

Jason watched as you reached for his face with your free hand. You didn’t fully extend your arm, purposefully leaving some distance that he would have to fill himself. Giving him the time to come to you.

Sometimes Jason needed time to adjust after a night of patrol, some days he wanted to come to you and other days you had to step in and make baby steps towards him, guiding him back to the domestic life he shared alongside you. Either way you waited and were willing to wait as long as he needed.

This was one of the moments you reached out first, asking to touch him. It was a quiet signal letting your hand hang in the air. Sometimes he held that hand or he let you caress his face. Despite how much you told him he didn’t have to follow it every time, he always did. Like telling you ‘no’ would end him.

Like a magnet, Jason lowered his face placing his cheek in your hand, placing a kiss inside of your palm.

Your heart raced as you watched his careful movements.

He moved his own hand over yours, intertwining your fingers together, but keeping your hand on his cheek. His skin was slightly cold, but he kept your hand in his and he rubbed his face on your palm trying to absorb your heat. It must’ve been freezing outside, maybe you need to get him some hand warmers to keep in his jacket, but a part of you also wanted him to use you to warm himself up.

You felt him sigh as his lips touched your skin. His eyes closed as he fully lost himself in the moment, it felt like he was giving you a silent ‘I missed you’ as he refused to move from you and you squeezed his hand, hopefully giving the message back.

As he breathed your scent in, you counted his eyelashes while you waited, refusing to disrupt his moment from decompressing from patrol. You loved seeing his face from this angle because you could see that some of his eyelashes were white like his hair. It wasn’t that prominent, but your heart fluttered that you were probably one of the only people to know.

Your thumb caressed the edge of his eye, watching him lean into your hand more.

Jason’s eyes opened, barely enough to gaze at you, but you wouldn’t miss the devotion that sat in his eyes. He trusted you and is willing to give himself to you, to let you touch him. To ruin him, if you desired.

“Jay…” You breathlessly spoke into the intimacy pulling at you.

Jason stayed still, waiting for permission, for you to lead him in whatever direction you wanted. All of his resolve focused on what you desired. He was hesitant to even breathe too hard, if it meant you would move away.

You carefully leaned into him, mindful to not touch him more than you already were. Moving your hand from his cheek to the back of his neck. Pushing your fingers through the edges of his hair, his labored breathing on your lips as you hovered over his mouth, just near enough to touch his lips if you spoke.

You wanted his full attention.

You couldn’t tell if you tugged him first or he leaned in, but you were too lost in the kiss to care. You started with a gentle touch, but once Jason angled his face to bring your body closer to him, it felt like he wanted to engulf you.

You felt his fingers slowly itch onto your waist, playing with the fabric of your shirt. You flinched, surprised at the sudden, but welcomed touch. You moved your hand holding the cup—you forgot about the mug!

Luckily, your realization went unnoticed by Jason. He pressed into you, leaning your neck further back to adjust to his height. The new development let a sound reach his throat, but with your bodies this close, you could feel the murmur. Your stomach fluttered.

Before his hands could move toward your back, you maneuvered your arm still holding onto the cup to avoid getting tangled. You laid your arm on his shoulder, holding the mug by its handle, careful to not let the mug touch him, letting him get even closer.

The movement allowed him to breathe onto your mouth, lost in your contact. It made your stomach warm at the sound.

Your mind went blank and you instinctively followed the movements of the man in front of you. You lead him to this point, but with the permission you gave him, he followed his desires. You wanted him to want more, he barely asks for things and he deserved to be spoiled.

His hands found the edge of your shirt, placing his cold hands underneath onto your bare waist, rubbing the skin with his thumbs.

You shuddered. He watched the tremor in your body, resting his nose next to yours. Dwelling in intimacy and shaky breaths.

Once his hands started to warm against your heated skin, you looked up to him. Watching his reddened skin. Maybe you can mention the mug now.

“Jay…I broke—“

Jason was too infatuated with the moment and holding you in his embrace that he didn’t comprehend anything you were saying. He took advantage of your mouth opening to deepen the kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, to keep yourself from falling and to somehow find a way to merge your body with his.

You took a sudden breath, releasing yourself from Jason’s mouth. A sudden…hunger in his eyes as he watched you breathe. You gripped onto the handle of the mug and Jason’s broad shoulder, overwhelmed by the combination of Jason’s touch, breathing and look.

He must’ve not felt any different as he nipped at your jaw, using his hand to cup your neck and angle your face up to give him more access.

“Jay—“ You breathlessly pleaded.

Clink.

The handle of the mug broke off, leaving the handle in your hand and the rest of the cup bouncing off of Jason’s back and shattering on the floor.

Both of your movements stop as Jason shoves you behind him, shielding you from the imaginary attacker.

You could only see the back of his shoulders and his flushed ears peaking out as you looked at the broken handle still in your hand.

“Jay…it’s fine.” You tapped his shoulder to point to the cup broken on the ground. “It’s my fault.”

“Wha?” Jason asked, still breathless as he was ready in attack mode.

“I was trying to tell you, but I—got distracted.” You cleared your throat.

Jason leaned down taking some of the broken pieces near his boot in his hands. Recognizing the fragments once he got a closer look.

“I’m sorry. I tried to fix it, but then I guess super glue isn’t as reliable as I thought—“

“Sweetheart—“ Jason soothed as he stood up.

“Then I forgot about the time and you came back before I could figure out what to do. I can buy you a new one—“

“Sweetheart, it’s okay.” He placed his hand under your chin, grabbing your attention. “It’s really alright.”

“But look at it.” You defeatedly gestured to the broken handle still clutched in your hand.

Jason could only laugh watching his partner sadly show him the aftermath of their handiwork, his full set of teeth visible, giving him the cute boyish look you loved.

“You don’t have to apologize, it’s really okay.” He grabbed the handle out of your hands. “I’m glad you didn’t cut yourself from the broken pieces, but we don’t need to fix it.”

He had a smirk on his face.

“Especially with super glue.”

“Hey! I had to use what we had in the drawers.” You puffed.

He placed the pieces on the counter. Carefully moving you to the couch, so you don’t step on any sharp pieces. Cleaning up the mess of his cup.

You silently watched, making you feel worse. Jay noticed your sullen look and consoled you as he swept up any left over pieces.

“I have shoes on still and your in your socks, I just want to make sure it’s safe.”

You frowned further.

A small tender smile spread across his face as he properly disposed of the remaining pieces and walked over to the couch. Your eyes followed his form as he kneeled in front of you, making him sit just below your eye level with your legs in between his, gently taking your hands in his as he methodically rubbed your skin with his thumb. His hands were warm now, probably from your earlier…activity.

“My love, it’s okay. We can replace it or get an entirely new one.”

“But it was a matching set.” You rubbed his hands back.

“Doesn’t mean we can’t choose a new set.” You looked up from both of your hands to his gentle gaze, filled with so much warmth and understanding. “I’ve been meaning to take us to that new pottery place you talked about. We can each make a mug, okay, sweetheart?”

You brought his hands to your lips, gently placing a kiss on his rough hands. A mesmerizing hum left Jason’s mouth.

“Can you make one for me and can I make one for you?” You quietly asked.

Jason laughed, the cute smile poking through again.

“I would love that.”

Maybe breaking Jason’s mug wasn’t so bad after all.

…

Your date to the pottery place was even better than you expected. You got to try something new, Jason made a few cheesy Ghost pottery scene jokes that the instructor probably heard too often and you got to watch Jason’s hands intricately make your brand new mug.

You were internally thanking your clumsiness for breaking his cup earlier in the week and blessing you with the scene of your boyfriend’s biceps. You wish you could brand the memory into your eyes.

Now you tried to concentrate as you painted Jason’s mug. You both decided on painting things about the other person onto the cup, a completely unique design.

You managed to decide on an overall simple red color (surprising, I know), paint a wonder woman emblem and a simplified doodle of Jason’s face. It was your proudest work.

You even snuck in a clumsily written “I love you” with a tiny Red Hood doodle at the bottom of the inside of the cup. A cheesy surprise for him.

“I don’t think I’m made for the arts.” Jason carefully held the paint brush in his hands.

“Don’t say that, your mug shape looks better than mine. Sorry that I made yours a little wonky.” You looked at the slightly slanted rim of the mug.

“I love wonky. You know me so well.” He playfully flirted.

You chuckled at your love-struck boyfriend. You could have given him a ball of clay and he would’ve proudly kept it on his nightstand. You just rolled your eyes at him, knowingly that you also didn’t care if Jason bought a plain cup and handed it to you. You would love it all the same.

A small quiet silence, both lost in your individual masterpieces. You looked up to watch Jay, who concentrated with furrowed brows, trying to add his iconic red bat symbol to your cup. When you noticed he also painted a couple cracks around the handle, clearly digging at the broken handle you religiously held onto earlier that week.

“You’re never going to let that down.” You sighed.

“Huh?”

You pointed at the handle, a smirk appearing on his face.

“Of course, sweetheart, I wish I could’ve gotten a picture of how sad you looked. I would’ve made it my wallpaper.” He chuckled.

“Don’t make fun of me, I was really nervous about telling you. And I lost a pair of sweats because the super glue decided to permanently close my pocket.”

“I’m not, I thought it was cute.” He looked up from your mug. “Besides I already saw it when I crawled into the apartment.”

“What!?” You almost shouted. “What do you mean? You knew?”

“I didn’t know anything, just saw it, but you gave yourself away after you called me ‘my love’ and then I just wanted to see what you were planning.” He finished painting the outline of his iconic bat symbol. “You always call me that when you’re up to something.”

“That’s embarrassing.” You put your paint brush on the table, attempting to cover your flushed face with the back of your hand, careful to not put any paint on your face. “I thought I managed to get past you, but I guess making out doesn’t really count as a distraction.”

“Oh, no, I was distracted, so I guess your plan worked.” He placed his finished work on the table. “But, you’ll have to try harder next time, my love.”

He was getting too cocky now.

“If I tried harder, you would have a hard time getting up in the morning, my love.” You teased.

Jason’s eyes widened. A second to process what you said, then a brazen look in his eye appeared.

“What if that’s my plan all along, my love?” He shamelessly asked.

You leaned in closer to Jason’s side, hiding your voice away from the other customers in the shop.

“One of us isn’t going to be able to walk and it won’t be me.” You joked, both of you laughing at one another. You moved away from Jason. “I think we better stop before we get kicked out, your Ghost jokes earlier already have us on the instructor’s last straw. If it’s not cringy jokes, we’ll be kicked out for indecency.”

“There goes my plans of making out next to the kiln.” Jason shook his head. “I guess it would be bad if we couldn’t pick up our mugs later.”

Your eyes widened at your boyfriends hidden plans. A small twinkle of mischievousness in his eyes.

“We have to change up our make out spots once in a while, can’t let them catch on.” You playfully nudged his arm.

Jason smiled and brought your hands up to his mouth, a small kiss on your knuckles that were covered in paint.

A flutter inched in your stomach at the brief contact.

“Then we should schedule a knitting class tomorrow.”

[ireneaesthetic]

Pointing out little moments and details of my fav s3 scene.

choir practice scene • episode 2

this scene caught me so off guard, in the best way possible.

it only took simon's "you should do an activity you actually like" for wilhelm to drop everything and choose getting to spend more time with him!

simon's reaction at wille joining the choir was also mine: he can't believe his eyes and keeps looking back at him with the brightest smile on his face. and simon shifting wille's attention to where the song lyric is bc it's all new to him is adorable.

wilhelm's little proud smirk between the kisses while simon is so into it: he knew and imagined simon's surprised and happy reaction to all this, but i bet he was thriving to see it up until this very moment. so he might just be thinking that he made the best choice of his life.

having to practice and wait for everyone to leave was probably torture for simon, when all he really wanted to do since wille came in was this (simon's main love language is clearly acts of service btw *cough*). he felt important, cared for, loved - and couldn't wait to reciprocate it.

also, he's holding the key chain and happens to do the middle finger with the same hand. if you look at it as a way of saying 'mind your own business' to us is quite funny.

simon setting the rhythm and wilhelm fully going along with it. they don't even separate their lips before leaning in for another kiss - melting into it. they literally said 'no need to catch air bc we're already breathing each other in'.

simon not breaking physical contact even once. his hands are the third main character in this scene: they act like a glue for their bodies and carry so much passion. it is peak chemistry.

going on his tiptoes to push himself as close as possible and clinging to wille for dear life is the most simon thing he's ever done. love really brings out the cuddliest version of him.

smiling into the kisses and out of the kisses? insane of them if you ask me (i support it) (keep doing it lovers).

wille smiling and biting his lip bc he's the one overwhelmed by simon's presence now. physical touch is his love language and he's flooded with simon's - he must feel the luckiest boyfriend on earth.

one of their greatest proofs of love has always been to provide each other's comfort by being exactly what they lack receiving from other people or what they need most of the times - it's a constant learning of how to give and take.

they can't get enough of it: it's not even only about the kissing but more about their need to just keep pulling the other closer, leaning into each other, slowing their movements to not leg go yet but take time to touch and deeply feel instead - wille's face speaks for itself. this hug is so intimate ugh.

it's finally shown a glimpse of wille's hand on simon's back! it was always there obv but it's nice to see it more properly.

wilhelm obsessing over simon's neck and simon who tilts his head back to make it more accessible. wille could've done it all and trace the path with kisses - simon wished - but the boy knew what he was doing!

the way simon looks up at him and wille rubs their noses back and forth, keeping his eyes on him, gives me butterflies.

they're super affectionate and it's the easiest thing for them to do. the intimacy that comes with their whispering, their own personal space becoming one for both of them to share bc it's safer, warmer, a lot more comfortable. everything is such a manifesto of how much they genuinely adore each other - it's what makes this the it scene for me.

their bottom lips touching are sooo *internally screaming*.

wilhelm stands still to let simon's lips brush past his own and simon's cheek resting against wille's lips to enjoy the feeling a little longer. they look so peaceful.

it happens after wille's "i like listening to you sing": they went from "he likes it when i sing" / "i do too, don't i?" (locker room's fight in s2) to wilhelm actually telling him that listening to his voice is one of the main reasons he joined the choir. it has to be extremely special for simon to finally hear it.

idk if it's just my mind making this up but let's pretend simon is kissing wille's neck here!

wilhelm picking simon up by the waist to carry him elsewhere and keep the thing going more privately. that's my wille.

can you believe this is the face of someone who's saying that he needs to go? to not miss the bus? he just looks crazy in love to me.

wille's laugh is cute! and simon throwing his stuff on the floor bc the priority was to push his boyfriend against the lockers to make out will never not be funny.

also, @allthefakepeople once said the only thing that could've made this scene even more perfect is if simon paused when walking away and ran back to wille to steal a quick goodbye kiss - ahhh i'd have been so here for it!

[alllgator-blood]

AS OF TODAY IT'S BEEN ONE YEAR SINCE I POSTED MY FIRST BISHOP REF SHEETS AUGHH!! Thought it'd be funny to do like a comparison thing of how they've changed or stayed the same after 365 days of drawing them. Gonna be SUPER lazy and just take their ref sheets from then + now and put the pngs side by side lmao.

Also gonna add a poll to the top part of this because ALTHOUGH I FEEL LIKE AN EGOMANIAC ASKING, this is the one day it feels appropriate to ask:

idek what I mean by iconic. Maybe just who you like best/whose design is your fave/who you think of first if you think of my blog? I've seen artists I like put up this same poll and I always wanted to try :')

ANYWAY. COMPARISON DRAWINGS + LONG RAMBLING BELOW THE CUT:

I think leshy has stayed the most consistent in my comics. He has some sad moments (because NOBODY'S safe), but when nothing is actively upsetting him, he's a very happy guy. He is NOT bogged down by the reality of his situation; he just likes to host bonfires, dance stupidly, draw comics and shake his followers to death between his teeth. I somehow have not altered the fact he's a stack of 6 wooden balls with limbs attached, I wanted him to look like a wood carved toy and frankly it's a pain in the ass to make art of him. But he's worth spending a million billion years drawing wood grain lines for <3

Generally he looks about the same as he did a year ago? The paws definitely changed but I like these guys to look more animal than humanoid, so the vaguely human-ish hands + feet had to go. It doesn't really come across, but his feet are now caterpillar suction cups to help him climb trees!

HEKET MY BELOVED. I really feel like I do her a disservice by not making much art of her and putting her really long angst comic on hold cause I wasn't happy with the ending, BUT I DO LOVE HER. Her personality hasn't changed much since her first iteration, which is to say she's still "generally pissed off and fairly arrogant, but loves her family and knows when she's gone too far".

But her ROLE in the comics definitely changed a lot. I have multiple unfinished comics and a ton of sketches where she acted as shamura's caretaker because kallamar was too squeamish to do it himself? That's why in my comics that take place in the infirmary, you can see her temple motif. BUUUT that ended up changing so now, as the second-most chronically ill of the family, she's too shook up to visit shamura in the hospital because all she thinks about is how that might be her someday.

KALLAMAR IS SO DIFFERENT. MAYBE THE MOST DIFFERENT OF THE FOUR. I made a lot of quality of life edits to these designs, mostly making the crowns shorter and removing the crosses, but kallamar's lumpiness had to go because it was so annoying to draw and I hated the implication that he was just a big writhing ball under his robes lmao. I also transed my kallamar's gender pretty early on (genderfluid...) but never outright said it I don't think? Initially I felt cringe for doing that but nowadays I've seen a LOT of people have transfem kallamars so like. I do feel better about it!

Kall went from generic "guy who sucks + is anxious + everyone hates him" to "the underappreciated glue that holds the entire family together, but silently grapples with the most feelings of impending doom" and I'm not sure how it happened. I'm very happy though because initially I didn't like him, but he fills gaps that the other three really can't fill, and I don't know what my comics would be like if I clearly hated his guts??

There they are.........my blorbo....the big cheese.....the eeby deeby. They were so obscenely silly in their first version, I literally forgot they used to look like that and burst out laughing when I found the old ref sheet.

I had no way of knowing that after drawing this image, I'd draw these stupid idiot cartoon cult leaders every day for the next 365 days, so initially shamura was just "haha funny senile spider" I think? I don't really remember when I settled on "senile spider that switches between kindly grandparent that tells old war stories / ETERNAL UNENDING SUFFERING. SALVATION SHALL NEVER COME FOR A THING AS WRETCHED AS I"? But if you told early 2024 me that I'd eventually make them like JACKED I wouldn't believe you lmfao

I dunno, I think about this character a lot so I'd be here all day if I talked about them. Both my headcanons for them, and the actual canon details are just. MWAH. I love them so very much. They're so tragic and I ball my fists and go "AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH" when I think about how sad they are in the game. I love it.

I originally wrote a long thing about my personal life here but I felt like it was too overshare-y, so I'll just say that fixating on this game kinda saved my passion for comics. I think 2023/early 2024 were the absolute worst years of my art life; nobody was reading anything I made, I was too depressed to draw, and I stopped giving a shit about any of my OCs. But art/comics was my main way of coping, so it was just a neverending loop of "I'm too sad to draw" "but I'm sad so I want to draw" "but I can't because I'm sad" and nothing ever got done. Those silly shitty ref sheets were pretty much the only thing I managed to make during that whole time, I had NO idea it'd turn into a hyperfixation.

I figured it was weird to make fanart and not share it, so I started up this blog after posting to reddit. And a TON OF PEOPLE SAW THE FIRST ART I MADE. Idr how many but it was so much more feedback than I'd gotten like...ever?? Really it didn't pop off that much compared to other people's posts, but it was monumental for me. So that in combination with the hyperfixation's death grip on me got me to finally start regularly drawing again. Things are still shitty and it's hard to make it to the next day a lot of the time, but when I sit down and draw a silly worm or a big frog I feel a lot better.

I love these characters so so much, they're the perfect blend of cute and tragic, stylized but simple, and they have clear personalities but a lot of room for additions. ALSO they're weird species of animals, and I spent years of my life drawing exclusively underappreciated anthro species. I'm just very happy this game exists and came out when it did, because I definitely would've given up on comics by now if I didn't glom onto these characters.

This is getting really long. I know the anniversary of starting a fuckin blog not that deep but I don't really have like, a social life or support system or anything, so genuinely people sending me their art/ideas or saying they like my comics or just asking me about my headcanons is the best shit ever. Feels good to finally have something I care about that I can also share with people. I get overwhelmed easily and can't respond to everything even though I want to, but I promise this is so much better than the eternal feeling that everything I made wasn't worth reading.

So ah...if anybody is reading this, please know this silly cult game is the main source of my joy rn and just by looking at my art + comics, you've helped me more than you might know. Thank you

[lis-likes-fics]

Everything in the World

Pairings: Spencer Reid x wife!Reader Word Count: 1.9k words Warnings: Literally none, not even a swear word, all fluff... A/N: Why can't I have this?! Please I am begging on my knees, all I want is like... ONE KISS. Please ONE KISS PLEA-! Thanks to my lovely beta reader @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen!

It's really late. It takes a lot of care to close the door silently behind him as he steps into the threshold of his home.

He releases the quiet breath when he hears the click of the lock, turning on his heel and setting his go bag by the door. The quiet hum of the TV is all he can hear through the apartment as he begins to step further inside. It's nearly one in the morning—you should have been in bed hours ago.

Spencer comes up to the living room, peering inside curiously to see My Little Pony playing brightly across the screen as multiple colorful ponies trot through a city bustling with activity.

“Daddy!*

The voice that calls him is ecstatic but still so, so soft in the night. His smile immediately stretches over his face, his mind full of images of the past few days melting away in favor of holding his arms out and open to receive his little girl.

“Hey!” he beams, sweeping her into his arms as he keeps his voice down. He holds her close to him, rubbing her back and sighing. “Hey, sweetheart.”

Spencer kneels down, setting his baby—though she would argue she wasn't a baby—on her feet with a smile. He sits back, his legs out in front of her for her to stand. She eagerly moves her dark brown curls away from her face, smiling so big that it looks like she's all teeth.

“Miss you,” she admits, whispering poorly.

His heart warms at the words. “I missed you too, Rora,” he returns, pressing a loving kiss to her forehead and adoring her giggle.

He glances over at the couch where you're fast asleep, one arm draped over the side in a position he can only assume is highly uncomfortable. You're both in your pajamas already, completely through your nightly routines with the obvious exception of the part where you go to bed.

Spencer's hand holds her side, his thumb brushing gentle circles over her. “Did you stay up for me?”

Aurora's nod is enthusiastic with an unmistakable pride shining in her eyes. She's got these big cheeks that Spencer loves to kiss. “Yes,” she says. Then she looks over at you, like you're silly. “Mommy went sleep.”

“I see,” he mumbles. He watches the way you pull Rora’s plush elephant into your chest under one heavy arm like you're cradling her. He nearly melts at the sight.

He scrunches his nose and leans in like he's telling a secret. “She was super sleepy, huh?”

Rora’s happy to join in, her voice lowering to another loud whisper. “Yeah.”

“You wanna help me put her to bed?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, c'mon.” He hosts himself up onto his knees and takes her hand, waddling over to your spot on the couch.

He smiles fondly as he peers at you, your soft face and your softer breaths. He thinks you're one of the most beautiful things he's ever seen. You and your baby girl.

“Isn't she so pretty?” he whispers, his voice so, so soft to avoid waking you.

Aurora tries to match his tone. “Yes. Like the boralis!”

He nods quickly. “Yes, exactly like the boralis.” She still hasn't quite figured out how to say “borealis”, but he doesn't have the heart to correct her right now. It's what the two of you named her after. He kisses her forehead again. “C'mon.”

Spencer stands, putting all his care into sliding his hands underneath your body. A tiny sound mumbles out of you, but you just lean into him as he pulls you closer and closer. Once he's got you in his arms, held like a bride with your face resting against his chest and the plush in your arms, he can't help but to take a moment to look at your face again. He loves how pretty you are.

Your lashes flutter as you begin to awaken, struggling to open like they're stuck together with glue. “Spence,” you say before you've even looked at him.

He smiles fondly, his words so quiet that not even Aurora can understand him. “Hey, baby.” He glances at his daughter, motioning with his head for her to follow him as they walk through their home to get to the bedroom.

“You're home,” you mutter sweetly.

“Yeah,” he nods. “Did she wear you out?”

It takes a moment for you to reply, your mumbles spoken into his suit. “She has a lot of energy.” There's a lazy moan, and then, “You don't have to carry me.”

He refuses to not carry you. Carrying you is one of his favorite things to do. “Go back to sleep. We got you. Right, Rora?”

She's struggling to reach the door as she responds through strained effort. “Mm-huh.” When it's open, she fist pumps herself and rushes inside to climb onto the bed. It takes a lot of effort for her to get there. Spencer's already waiting by the bed by the time she manages to crawl up, and he enjoys watching her pull the covers back for you.

You silently let them go through the process of tucking you in—Spencer lowering you into the bed, Aurora bringing the covers up to tuck under your chin, Spencer smoothing the blankets out, Aurora lifting your head less than elegantly to push an extra pillow underneath you.

Spencer rests a warm hand on your cheek, brushing his fingertips across your forehead and studying every tiny little feature of your face like he's analyzing old Russian texts. He presses his lips so sweetly to your forehead, and you melt into the pillows.

“I'm gonna put her to bed, okay?” he murmurs. You nod and hum. “Give mommy a kiss.”

Aurora pulls her hair back from her face, bending down to place a sort of sloppy kiss to your cheek. He doesn't miss the way your lips tug. “Thanks, honey.”

Her voice is so small and sweet. “Night, Mommy.”

You take a while to breathe in, reaching a tired hand from under the covers to reach blindly for her. Once your hand has found her knee, you stroke it gently and nod. “Night, Rora. Love you, baby.”

“Love to you,” she says.

Spencer kisses your forehead again while Aurora picks up your arm and shoves it back under the covers. She wants to see nothing but your head uncovered.

He rounds the bed and scoops his girl off of it, making a rocket sound as he does. She lands on his side and waves goodbye to you as he carries her from the room. She's taken her elephant plush with her. Her tiny hand holds onto him absentmindedly, holding his shirt in a tight grip that lets him know just how much she loves him, how much she depends on him. He rubs her leg.

When the door is closed, he smiles. “What story do you want tonight?”

“Mommy already read a story. Lord of Rings.”

He lowers his voice scandalously. “Do you want another one?”

Her face lights up like a million Christmas lights. And it's contagious. He looks like he's just received the best present of all. All he wants is to make her smile like that forever.

“I can have two?” she gasps.

Spencer thinks briefly that he would read to her every book in the world if it would make her this happy.

He opens her bedroom door, flicking on her golden lamp as he goes. “Yeah, sweetheart, you can have two.” He sets her in her bed, pulls the covers up as she helps. “But you gotta keep it a secret, okay?” He says this fully aware of the fact that she's going to tell you anyway. She tells you everything.

“‘Kay!”

He pulls up the tiny chair in her room. “Which one?”

“Next part, please!” she asks excitedly, pointing to The Lord of the Rings already sitting on the table beside her bed.

He picks up the thick book, pulling it in his lap and flipping to the marked page. “Ready?”

She lays back, getting as cozy as she can. She holds her plush to her chest just as closely as you had a moment ago. He can't help but adore how much she looks like you. It doesn't matter how many times people say she looks like her father, he will always see you in his girl.

“Ready.”

He snaps out of his thoughts, busying himself with the words. He wills himself to speak a little slower, entertaining her with voices and movements and all the things she loves in storytelling. She stops him a million times to ask a million questions, and he's content to give her a million answers and more.

And when she's finally fallen asleep, finally tired out by the long day and night she's had, he puts the book back with a smile. Spencer kneels by her bed, pressing a loving kiss to his daughter's head as he runs his fingers through her hair. He whispers “I love you,” so silently into her hairline, turning off her light to allow her nightlight to take over.

He retreats back to his room, closing the door and beginning to shed his layers. And once he's wrapped in some sweatpants, he finds himself kneeling by the bed once more.

You must have been really tired.

You sleep effortlessly, face pressed into the pillow, the extra one Rora had given you discarded to the other side of the bed. He can't himself. He reaches out and touches your face, tracing the softness of your cheeks and of your lips and of the tip of your nose.

Your face twitches where he tickles you. You don't have to open your eyes to know it's him. You never do. “She sleep?”

“Yeah.” He sighs gently, “Sorry I took so long.”

You shake your head. “Don't say sorry.”

He smiles, kissing your forehead for the fifteen hundredth time and standing to his feet. He goes around the bed and climbs in next to you, pulling the covers up to make sure you're still warm.

You practically glue yourself to him, tucking yourself away in the warmth of his chest and breathing in his scent as it swirls around your head and makes you melt inside. Spencer adores the feeling of your fingertips at his side, stroking up and down and up and down tickling as they do.

“Missed you,” you whisper. He's immediately reminded of Aurora when she greeted him earlier.

He wraps his arms around you and brings you impossibly closer, his loving hands caressing you. “I know. I missed you, too, love.” He says it all in one breath, so happy to be home and in your arms. Your forehead gets three more kisses. “Go back to sleep. I love you.”

He says it so quickly, but there's nothing casual about it. There's never been anything casual about the way he loves you. He loves you so fully and so deeply and so intensely. It takes his whole soul to look at you, and even more of it to bring himself to touch something as precious as you. Sometimes he feels like he doesn't deserve it. But right now, in this moment, he can't be bothered to think that. Right now, he's just so happy that you're his and he's yours. He loves you.

Even through your exhaustion, he feels his love returned. Your sticky words fuse with the fabric of his heart, and he's never been happier to be loved. “Love you, too.”

You earn another long kiss to the line where your forehead meets your hair. Tucking you in to him, he lets himself fall asleep next to you, wrapped in your arms.

Criminal Minds taglist: @queermaxwooo @mdanon027 @lilianhallee @hpstuff244444 @thegr8estpuff @niktwazny303 @bubbles2300 @hiireadstuff @chloelmao67 @feyresqueen @hbwrelic @princess76179 Tag yourself here...

[qrrieterisunnq]

Flour Prank - Jack Hughes

strawberry girl masterlist

JACK!HUGHES X AMARA!JAMES — WARNINGS: nothing just sweet pure content — SUMMARY: Amara pretends that the bowl she uses is stuck on the counter, and she calls Jack to help her. Only for him to end up covered up in flour when he picks it up. — WORD COUNT: 0,8K PART OF STRAWBERRY GIRL AU

“Oh my gosh,” Amara giggles as she carefully fills the bowl with flour, scooping it in with way more precision than she usually manages. “He’s so gonna kill me after this.”

She’s already buzzing with energy, her brain practically racing through the logistics—camera angle, flour placement, timing, Jack’s reaction. It’s chaotic, but in her head it all makes sense. Her thoughts jump ahead, imagining the poof of flour, the look on Jack’s face, and the sound of Luke wheezing from the living room.

She peeks around the corner—Jack’s still zoned in on the game, eyes locked on the screen, one leg hanging off the couch like he’s melted into it. Luke is on the other end, flipping through something on his phone, earbuds in one ear.

Perfect.

Amara tiptoes back into the kitchen, snatching her phone from the charger and fumbling with the camera app. “Okay, okay, okay,” she mutters to herself, setting it up behind another bowl. “Angle’s good. Lighting…eh, whatever. This is gold either way.”

She’s still adjusting the placement when she hears someone come up behind her. She jumps, nearly knocking over the bowl. “Luke!”

He raises an eyebrow, finishing a bite of apple. “Why do you look like you’re about to commit a felony?”

“Because I am,” she whispers with a wild grin. “Okay, okay, listen—don’t distract me. I have one shot at this.”

Luke laughs. “That’s exactly what someone says before it all goes wrong.”

Amara waves her hands dramatically. “Focus! I filled this bowl with flour and I’m gonna tell Jack it’s stuck to the counter. When he picks it up—poof. Instant snowstorm. I’m talking flour bomb level chaos.”

Luke stares at her, chewing slowly. “You planned all this?”

She shrugs, bouncing on her toes. “It just came to me like, five minutes ago. I was supposed to be making cookies but then the bowl made this little suction noise and I thought, ‘what if I made it a trap?’ And then flour happened. And now we’re here.”

He laughs. “Classic ADHD spiral, huh?”

She gives him a mock salute. “Hyperfocus activated. Chaos mode: engaged. Are you in or not?”

I’m so in,” Luke says, already invested. “You want me to distract him?”

“Yes. Stall him if you have to. Make him think this is legit.”

Luke shakes his head, still laughing. “Man, he’s never gonna trust you in the kitchen again.”

Amara just grins. “He barely does now.”

Luke heads toward the living room while Amara positions herself near the counter, one hand lightly resting on the edge of the “stuck” bowl and the other ready to play innocent.

“Jack!” Luke calls out. “She says she needs help in the kitchen. Bowl’s stuck or something.”

“What?” Jack yells, not looking away from the screen. “What do you mean stuck?”

“I don’t know, she’s acting like it’s super glued,” Luke says with a snort. “You’re up, man.”

Amara does a quick bounce to shake out the jitters. She can’t help it—her brain’s running a hundred miles a minute and her excitement is hard to contain.

Jack sighs, pausing the game. “You two are exhausting,” he mutters as he walks into the kitchen.

Amara turns toward him, all big eyes and pretend confusion. “Seriously, I don’t know what happened. I think it vacuum-sealed itself or something? I can’t get it to budge.”

Jack eyes the bowl skeptically. “You didn’t glue it, right?”

“Why would I glue it?” she says innocently, barely suppressing her grin.

He steps forward, muttering under his breath. “This better not be another baking experiment gone wrong—”

He lifts the bowl.

POOF.

A full-on flour explosion bursts into the air, coating Jack in a fine white dust from head to toe. It covers his hoodie, his hair, his eyelashes—everything.

Amara’s eyes go wide for half a second before she bursts into laughter. “OH MY GOD. JACK. YOU LOOK LIKE A DUSTED CINNAMON ROLL.”

From the living room, Luke is absolutely howling. “BRO. YOU GOT DOMED.”

Jack doesn’t move. He just blinks slowly, turning his head toward the counter where Amara’s phone is very visibly recording.

“You two planned this.”

Amara is wheezing now, hands on her knees, nearly crying. “I—I can’t breathe. Your face—you looked so betrayed!”

Jack takes one slow step toward her, grabbing a fistful of leftover flour from the counter. “This is war.”

“Jack, no—Jack—JACK!” she squeals, backing away just as he lunges.

Too late. He grabs her, hugging her tightly and smearing flour all over her hair and shirt. She screams, both laughing and trying to escape.

Luke’s doubled over, filming it all. “This is the best day of my life.”

“I’m gonna flour you next,” Jack threatens, lobbing a scoop in Luke’s direction.

Luke dodges and bolts into the kitchen. “Nope, you’re not catching me—Amara started it!”

Amara, still breathless with laughter, wipes flour off her face and yells, “And I regret nothing!”

[everkidco]

It's time to play! Playing can be hard as a little - have you ever felt like trying to play feels like doing a puzzle without all the pieces? 🧩

Sometimes, getting into that super-duper fun headspace for playtime can be as tricky as finding the perfect spot for your favorite teddy bear at bedtime! 🧸

But guess what? You're not alone on this adventurous journey of imagination! That's why we've got something extra special just for you! 🎉 Welcome to "Let's Make…", our new play inspiration series where every adventure begins with a sprinkle of imagination and a dash of creativity! 🎨✨ Let's get started! 🚀

🌟 Attention, little architects! Todays super fun activity is for you! 🌟 Get ready to unleash your creativity and build your very own bustling city from recycled materials! ♻️🏙️ Gather up cardboard boxes, toilet paper rolls, and anything else you can find – the sky's the limit! 🌈✨ Use scissors, glue, paint, glitter, fabric and lots of colorful markers to transform those everyday items into skyscrapers, houses, and roads. 🏠🚗

Let your imagination run wild and tell us what super-duper cool things you'll add to your recycled city! 🌆🌈

[ryiju-muunie]

Yuki x choso x reader with nipple play and fisting please??👀👀

Just like an Animal

18+ viewer discretion is advised

fem!sub!reader/dom!Yuki Tsukumo/sub!Choso Kamo Warnings: whenever I do this it ends up just being YukixReader LMAO, nipple play, nipple sucking, breast worship, fingering, stretching I guess, fisting~, neck kissing, light biting, making out, tongue kissing Word count: 2155 DESC: Your relationship with Yuki and Choso gets spicy!!

I'm being super active but this isn't gonna last sowwyyyyyyy

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

At this point, you weren’t sure how your relationship had begun. It started one day, with Yuki coming onto you and trying to engage in some lustrous foreplay. It felt wrong and dirty with her boyfriend, Choso, in the other room. But god, it felt so good. The way her hand delicately traced circles upon the top of your chest, just begging to go down and dip into your shirt. It was orgasmic before she even began. Then her boyfriend walked in. You expected a scandal, you didn’t expect him to join in. The man sat behind you and pressed his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your pumpkin perfume and getting lost in your skin. You were soft and plush, made up of fat that they couldn’t help but squeeze. You were gorgeous in every sense of the word to those two, no wonder they had had their eyes on you. 

Yuki purred into your ear, whispering sweet nothings as Choso’s hands pulled up your shirt. From there it was history. They fucked into you like you were their only vice like you were the glue holding everything together. It was hot how the blonde would kiss your lips, smearing her lipgloss on your face as she hungrily devoured what was hers. And it was hot, how the brunette squeezed your breasts as he was about to finish, trying to hold onto any semblance of himself; Trying desperately to compose his whines. 

This day started like any other. Your friend was lying on your couch, legs across your lap as her boyfriend was seated beside you. In all honesty, you didn’t just like the sex. You liked the intimate aspect of it too. The romantic undertones in how they both lounged beside you, holding you close. It was as if you were a part of their little circle. You were their favorite thing to pleasure and please.

Choso leaned closer to you as the three of you watched the TV, his head resting against your shoulder. It was nice, how he very gently pressed his body weight to yours and made you feel safe. Not to mention Yuki’s presence too was comforting. His hand inched its way to your thigh, just resting against your clothed skin. It was pretty normal for the two of them to be handsy even if they didn’t want a sexual encounter. That’s how they were and you didn’t mind one bit.

The woman sat up after a moment, relinquishing her legs from your lap and opting to sit close to you. She put her hand on your lower stomach and watched as it twitched from her supple touch. Even over your shirt she still managed to give you butterflies. Her boyfriend was quick too, running his hand on your leg further up until he reached the hem of your yoga pants. 

You let out a faint exhale, closing your eyes to the sensation. If it were up to the couple, you would just sit back and do nothing as they worshipped your body for hours together. But you wanted to worship them too. You wanted both of them to feel the pleasure you felt almost every time their hands would graze yours. 

The raven-haired male’s lips pressed soft and shallow kisses along the side of your neck. It was subtle enough that you didn’t realize, until you felt the edge of his teeth run along your jaw, followed by his tongue. Slowly, he traced circles along your skin to make the hair on your back stand on end. It was tantalizing how he licked down your jaw, back to your neck to suck on your deep skin. Yuki was working too, longingly dragging her hands underneath your shirt until she felt the fat of your breasts peeking out from underneath. She pulled at the hem, draping your top over your tits until they were out from their cage and in her mouth. Every time, it was almost like she had some kind of fetish for your nipples. She began to suck on the left as her fingers twisted your right nub, causing your body to tighten and stiffen in pleasure. And every time, you were sensitive to her rough touches. 

Choso was moving back up to your jaw, tilting your head towards him so he could capture your lips. But he was in a teasing mood, you supposed because he let your mouth ghost his for several moments, biting on your bottom lip and then pulling away so you’d moan in disdain. He let out a faint, breathless laugh, before taking your lips into his. It was slow and painfully methodic how he used his tongue to pleasure yours. Without even asking for permission it slid into your mouth and traced circles around your own, pulling you into a trace. A soft moan escaped your lips as he tried to hold himself back. Typically, it was hard for Kamo to keep his composure, opting to dive head-first into your mouth and whine for you to fuck him senseless. Yeah … he was a sub. 

It was so hot, how he was slowly fucking his tongue into your mouth as Yuki was tracing circles around your erect nipple, with her lips around the other. She lightly bit down, just to feel your breath hitch in your ribcage. Her boyfriend's hands weren’t staying PG either, no-no, he was practically itching in his skin to touch you. If he could’ve had it his way he would’ve been on top of you by now, ripping off your top and taking you. [Yuki also felt eerily similar] 

The male’s hands were on your sides, rubbing your love handles and squeezing your body just to feel you tremble underneath his touch. They didn’t stay there for long, running down to your pants to get them out of the way. His girlfriend got the memo and left your breasts, but you both know she’d be back for them soon. She helped him, pulling the hem down to reveal your pink panties, which at this point were soaked. It was easy to turn you on with just the slightest touch or the littlest bit of kissing. And they knew it. You were dripping and they hadn’t even begun the fun-est part, fucking your tight little pussy until you screamed for it to end. 

“Wow…” Yuki whispered, hands on your pubic bone as she stared at the evergrowing wet spot, “I think we should try something new today.” You looked down at your underwear, then at the woman beside you, who was eyeing you with lust. You were down to try anything once, especially if it was them who were going to be the ones doing it to you.

“Do you mean,” Choso began but paused after a moment, looking away with a hint of embarrassment creeping up onto his cheeks. It was a hazy blush that ran across his temples and down to the apples of his cheeks, dusting his nose. 

She nodded and let a grin plaster her glossed lips, “Yeah baby, we’re gonna fuck our little toy so good. Right, toy?” Her voice was almost nurturing, with a condescending hint that drove you wild. A soft whine came from your mouth before you could even stop it, nodding your head along. You didn’t care what they did as long as it was them doing it. 

“I like the sound of that…” He spoke in awe, running a hand down your chest to your tits, palming one of them just to see you squirm. What a tease. Kamo just loved to rile you up before letting go, so you’d plead for more. Especially when they fucked you so good, you couldn’t control the moans escaping from your mouths. And the begging too.

One of Yuki’s fingers inched closer to your wet pussy, you could tell she was itching to taste you. It was almost addicting how amazing you were, in every possible way. She inhaled and grabbed your panties by the top hem, beginning to pull them down. Choso helped, lifting you up with ease to make the process easier. Even as they manhandled you they were careful. They’d never want to break their toy. Well, physically that is. Your underwear was tossed to the side, somewhere. You found that you didn’t quite care at that moment where they were, as you felt warm fingers press into your wetness. A slow and quiet pleasure filled your walls and you leaned your head back. 

“Y-Yuki…” You exhaled, leaning your head against the cushion behind you. This was different than how she’d usually finger you. Typically she’d start off with your clit, then dive in with two fingers. But she was inserting two very slowly, spreading them apart just a bit to see your reaction. It was pleasurable in a very strange way, tickling your core differently than it had before. 

“Add in another one,” Choso whined into your ear, with his arms slowly embracing you from behind. He pulled you to him as Yuki anchored herself on the floor in front of your perfect pussy. His mouth found your neck and began to tease it, sending small kitten licks your way. It was little pulses of pleasure on your skin until he began to bite. The man had already unnaturally long canines, so the littlest bit of pressure was enough to make you moan in pain [and bliss]. Your head lazily turned towards his, mouth searching for his own. The softness of his lips was what you craved in ways you didn’t know you needed. Sure, the blonde was a good kisser, but there was nothing like kissing that damn emo. The way he took pleasure in kissing you slowly, building up to an intense and sloppy make-out… it was utterly arousing. 

You felt her insert a third finger, pushing them further apart as she did so. Softly, she began to thrust them. You were attempting to figure out exactly what she was prepping you for, but it went out the window when her fingers touched your sensitive G-spot. Your back arched forward to the sensation, but Choso made sure you didn’t go far. It was different to have three fingers on your walls, tickling your area until you came. Yet, the way she was fucking you was indicating it wasn’t going to stop there. No, she wasn’t trying to make you cum. Not right now. 

“Good girl,” Yuki purred, honey practically dripping from her smooth lips, “You’re doing so good… I’m gonna insert a fourth, kay princess?” She cooed and it was bliss. She could have been telling you the worst news imaginable, but in that voice, you couldn’t help but nod pathetically and let her have her way. She was sweet, talking down to you as if you were the scum on the bottom of her boot. But you wanted her to continue. That way she spoke, you never wanted it to end. 

Her fourth finger slid into your warmth and you felt a hand toy with your nipples, entering a state of newfound bliss. It was hard to keep those soft little noises from your lips as your orgasm was starting to approach with every fondling touch. Choso’s fingers twisted your perked nubs in the way he knew you liked, as his girlfriend pumped her hand slowly in and out of your cunt. By the time she inserted her thumb and pressed deep into your core, you were far gone. 

“H-hah… Y.. Yu.. mm- shit ha.. Fuck Yuki,” you drawled, leaning your head back against the male for stability, but it was hard to find it with pleasure running through your pink walls. Every second you could feel your body tighten in anticipation, riling up for the moment it knew would come soon. Closer and closer you could feel it coming as her fingers pressed together to form a point and targeted your swollen spot. Curving up, they graced your G-spot and began to abuse it. Hearing your reactions was enough for Tsukumo to leave satisfied, watching your eyes flutter from her touch.

Your hips rolled up and your chest arched forward, beginning to ride those slow waves of orgasmic gratification. It was different from those other, intense orgasms you had had before. It wasn’t a quick burst of intensity that left you panting for more. No, it was slow and painful as it reached its peak in your pussy, and traveled through your legs, and into your body. It created wave after wave of ferocious glee, that you couldn’t help but groan gutterally. Your wetness was music to Choso’s ears as he nibbled gently on your neck, feasting on your orgasm like it was his lifeline. Yuki was having a blast too. Anything that pleased you or her boyfriend was enough to make her happy. 

That’s all that mattered, your happiness.

[fandomnerd9602]

Little Gifts

Wolf!Natasha x Reader

All things considered, you and your wolf hybrid mate Natasha were adjusting super well to having two little five year olds running thru your shared cave.

Little Wanda and Pietro never wanted to leave your side. They were stuck on you like glue. You and Natasha even moved two little twin beds into the cave and also another set just like it into your apartment.

The little twin deer hybrids just came to life around you and Natasha. They loved being tucked in at night. They loved it when Natasha would sing an old Russian lullaby. They mostly just loved rough housing with you. Wanda particularly enjoyed cooking with you. And Pietro loved learning some hunting skills with Natasha and Yelena.

Honestly, you were excited and relieved that little deer hybrids Wanda and Pietro Maximoff were active and screaming and laughing. It let you know they felt comfortable around you and the love of your life. But there was so much screaming.

One such moment was this evening. Natasha was enjoying an evening cup of decaf coffee at her little kitchenette table. Her eyes were on the little doe and deer kids who were being chased around the open space of the cave by you.

The kids were squealing and screaming happily as you chased them around.

“I’m gonna get you!” You exclaimed as the little kids ran around. Little Pietro was way faster than his twin sister.

Natasha couldn’t help but smile. This was the kind of life she always wanted. A cozy life with you, two kids, and a good cup of decaf.

And then little Wanda ran up to Natasha, grabbing her pant leg.

“You gotta protect us Momma!” The little doe said with a giggle.

“M-Momma?” Natasha asked trying to be sure she had heard the little doe girl correctly.

Wanda seemed to shrink away a little only for Natasha to pull her close and hug her tight.

“It’s okay” Your wolf gal let out a little laugh, her eyes filling with tears. “You can call me that”

“I can?” The little doe asks hopefully only for Natasha to answer by kissing the top of her head.

Pietro pulls at your sweater’s sleeve, “can I call you Poppa?”

You get down on your knees before the little buck and hug him tight, “of course you can pal”

The twins proceeded to switch places with Wanda hugging you tight and Pietro hugging Natasha. The two little twins giggled and had their own set of tears running down their faces.

Just hearing Wanda call you Poppa made your heart feel so full. Tears began streaming down your face as you hugged her tight. Wanda’s little doe tail was wiggling happily as you held her.

Natasha’s big fluffy wolf tail was wagging happily as she hugged Pietro tight. She locked eyes with you and gave you a little wink. You gave her one right back.

Wanda and Pietro felt undeniably safe and comfortable with you and Natasha. And of course, you loved them with every fiber of your combined beings.

They had found their Momma and Poppa, while you and Natasha had found your kids. Your own little gifts.

Tags @lifespectator @supercorpdanbeau @scarletquake-n7 @russianredassassin @revanshand @iiconicsfan25 @iamnicodemus @moonlit-imagines @multi-fandom-enjoyer @jacenradio7 @julieromanoff

[bug-bites]

batfam beach episode?? real not clickbait no glue no borax??

cw: nothing! pure vacation beach fluff (p≧w≦q) also barely proofread,,,

pairing: gn!reader x batfam (NOT ALL AT ONCE.)

characters: dick grayson, jason babygirl todd, cassandra cain, tim drake, damian wayne (all intended to be interpreted as either romantic or platonic unless its damian. ik in some comic runs he's like an adult but hes like permanently 12 in my head and i dont fw that :/)

a/n: im back with a new dc obsession tee hee (soz to everyone who wanted more abt the cod guys or spiderverse im comicsmaxxing and redhoodpilled) will probably make a part 2 w/ bruce, babs, steph, and duke eventually :3c

Dick Grayson haha dick

oh he loves the beach so much

the sand beneath his feet make him feel nostalgic from when he would practice tumbling with his parents in the circus ring i think there's sand in circus rings right? I dunno someone fact check me on that one

the victim of being buried in the sand, always asks for a mermaid tail but ends up with something like massive sand tits (courtesy of either tim or jason), he laughs it off anyways

somehow gets the worst tan lines. He wore a swim shirt one time and never again because the tan lines looked SO BAD which is a total shame because he tans gorgeously

will beg to do play shoulder wars i have no clue if this is the right name, again fact check me for this thing where you get a piggyback ride from someone and you try to knock someone whos also getting a piggyback ride over in the water

you’re on his shoulders since bro is strong asf and you square up against tim and damian

obviously you lose because hello that's damian wayne we are talking about but at least its fun!!

cass and jason are forever the undefeated champions of shoulder wars though, that goes without saying

Cassandra Cain

shes always seen beach episodes in animes that damian practically dragged her into watching so when she gets to actually go to a beach she is so excited peak sibling bonding is dragging your siblings into your interests

loves building sandcastles and writing things in the sand, watching it get washed away, and then do it all over again

hold her hand and jump over waves together on the shore and she will be the giggliest and happiest human being alive on planet earth

but out of all the beach activities she loves beach volleyball

shes actually scarily good at beach volleyball for someone who has never played volleyball before

dick thought it would be fun to teach her and have a friendly match between him and bruce vs you and cass

yeah bruce and dick were COOKED. huffing and puffing like they have a vendetta against the three little pigs at the end of it while cass is like “this is so fun, lets go again!”

ends the day with a little sunset stroll along the shore i need her so bad you do not understand please bbyg ill treat u soooo well

Jason Todd

beaches are fun on paper for him, in person not so much

PERSONAL HC INCOMING! He gets migraines after the lazarus pit so he can only have so much fun before needing to lie face down with his head covered with a beach towel to make everything less overwhelming or he wears sunglasses the entire time

he brings a book to read at the beach and stays in the shade the entire time yes he is that bitch

usually at home in the comfort of his little library he likes to read things that have an impact on him or just stuff that makes him want to analyze deeper. think books like frankenstein, lord of the flies, all quiet on the western front, just generally heavier stuff

but his vacation books? totally different. usually something super light, maybe a shitty romance book that you find in walmart which are clearly just results of book packaging, or a some booktok recommendation he got for shits and giggles because it just was so laughably bad, maybe even a childhood feel-good book like percy jackson or the little prince (mostly just books he would not grieve over if sand permanently got in between the pages)

he tried reading a colleen hoover book once and honest to God wanted to toss it into the ocean HE WOULD HATE HER BOOKS AND I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL

but out of everything he likes watching you enjoy yourself, his book wasnt that important anyways. show him that funky sand dollar you found or that really cool piece of seaglass, he’s probably gonna bring it home with him. a little keepsake along with the millions of grains of sand that never seem to go away

Tim Drake

Burns so easily

At first its kinda cute, like hes asking you to help him get that spot on his back he just cant seem to reach and its just a little sweet moment between you two as you rub the sunscreen into his sore muscles

But then it happens again. And again. And again to the point when he goes up to you, you automatically reach for the tube of SPF 100+ 

I just know his vitamin d deficiency goes crazy

Leaves the beach looking like a lobster, sunburnt, a crazy bump on his head from getting hit with a volleyball, and some god awful sunglasses tan lines

Overall, beach activities are not really his thing bros job is NAWT beach

Enjoys the boardwalk a lot more than the beach itself, likes the touristy stuff but still goes to the beach because dick loves it and he loves his older brother :(

Damian Wayne

i feel like he wouldn’t care too much for typical beach stuff. like at every beach that has sand and decently clean water you can do most beach activities

one thing that is never 100% consistent at all beaches is what lives on the beaches. this boy will spend hours staring into tidepools 

bruce was lowk concerned because his son did not gaf about normal beach activities that kids do but eventually he reached a point where he was like "i mean at least hes having fun and being safe"

i feel like talia would always show him books of sea creatures when he was little but he never ended up being able to see them in their natural habitat someone take this boy to an aquarium now

tells you fun facts about each creature you come across

will scold you if you take a shell from the beach, definitely says some shit like “how would you feel if someone ran into your house and just took your bed?”  based though, leave shells at the beach yall! taking them is like bad for the ecosystem

brings his notebook around and has little sketches of the sea creatures

even though typical beach activities arent his favourite, he doesnt hate it. he likes that he can catch a break from all the vigilante stuff and spend time with his family as a family and not just as a team

loves scuba diving. idk it just somehow makes sense and i think he would look really stupid in a wet suit

also i feel like he would never mention it but in his mind hes fully thinking "this is just like a beach episode" but he would rather die than say it out loud FUCKING NERDDD

[countlessmoviethoughts]

Ok, I’ve been thinking about this for a bit, but consider:

Slow Horses where everything is the same, but they have a cat.

Sid finds a cat on her way into Slough House sometime before the start of the show. It’s this scrawny orange cat, probably little less than a year old, so not really a kitten that needs its mom or anything but definitely not full grown. It looks picked on, Yknow, ear has cuts, probably a few claw marks here and there, and for a moment it reminds her so much of River she has to at least show him the cat so she can laugh at his reaction or something. So she does the perfectly reasonable thing of picking up a random cat off the street and brings it to work.

She shows the cat to River who does the whole ‘Ha ha not funny’ bit, but walking through London with this random cat in her coat, she’s become attached. So she decides it’s going to stay at Slough House, much to everyone’s delight (not). She goes out on a coffee break later (her second or third of the day) and gets the basic supplies, and probably a few toys, and sets them up in various places around the office.

Standish is probably the most excited about all this, and the cat absolutely ADORES her. After Sid disappears (? Is that the right word for what happens?) Standish is the main one who cares for the cat. Occasionally, before she leaves, it would follow her around, curling around her ankles when she stands to do her tasks. Once she leaves, on her very occasional visits to Slough House, the cat is stuck to her like glue until she leaves.

A good half of the house think Lamb doesn’t know there’s even a cat, but he’s aware almost as soon as Sid introduces it into Slough House. He just kinda doesn’t care? Except when Standish leaves, he’s kind of the only one keeping the cat alive aside from River. The others try, but none of them have ever really had a cat, so every once in a while when everyone is running around or if someone gets the wrong type of food, a can of the most basic can of cat food mysteriously shows up open near the cat’s food bowl.

River is the dad that didn’t want the cat but then gets super attached. At first he’s very much less than impressed by the cat’s presence. He slowly warms up to the idea, but it really isn’t until after Sid’s gone that he gets attached. After her, if the cat isn’t with Standish, odds are it’s at River’s desk. He won’t necessarily play with the cat outright unless he’s REALLY bored or has something he REALLY doesn’t want to do, but if a toy falls by his foot he’ll kick it a little so the cat can keep playing. Or if the cat comes and sits on his desk he’ll give it a scratch on the head. After a particularly long day, if River is feeling particularly shitty, he’s also not opposed to the cat curling up on his lap for a while for him to pet, it takes his mind off things. After Sid and Standish, he’s the one that takes the most care of the cat.

Louisa tolerates that cat well enough. She thinks it definitely has its uses, she’s seen it take out a mouse or two, and after spending a good couple years in Slough House it knows not to get under foot. If she’s by River’s desk and the cat is there, she’s not opposed to giving it a couple pets as they talk. Min LOVES the cat, like he absolutely loves having it around and out of all the Slow Horses is the one that most actively played with the cat. That love has definitely rubbed of on Louisa just a touch.

Marcus also loves the cat, and gets a lot of entertainment out of a laser pointer. Him and Shirley are the two that try their best to take care of the cat when Standish leaves and River is gone for long periods of time, but while they mean well, they know absolutely nothing about cats. Shirley likes to pretend she’s indifferent about the cat, but she really isn’t. She wouldn’t be trying so hard (and by trying so hard I mean buying a can of straight up sardines over cat food but cats eat fish so it should be fine right?) When Marcus is killed in the house, before the bodies are collected, the cat comes out and just sorta… sits with him, until the people come to take his body away.

For Moira’s short stay at Slough House, she ignores the cat and the cat ignores her. The cat and Coe seemingly have a mutual understanding of not bothering each other. If they cross paths they may look at each other for a few seconds, and then immediately move on.

Roddy hates that cat. The feeling is mutual.

The cat never actually gets an official name, it just kinda becomes ‘The Cat’. Standish tries a couple names but they never stick, and the fact they don’t actually know the gender or anything of the cat probably plays a factor in that. If the cat ever gets seriously injured or ill they’ll probably find out at the vet, but until then they don’t really have the money nor do they care enough to take it into the vet to figure it out. Roddy has a couple choice nicknames for the cat, starting with ‘Ginger Devil’ and getting progressively more vulgar from there.

The cat usually stays at Slough House at night, locked in. It becomes a habit that someone fills the water, either Standish, or River, or Marcus, or Shirley, or even Lamb if all the others fail. Taking care of the cat falls into generic tasks/chores that need to be fulfilled on the daily so despite the general mess that Slough House can be, it’s actually a fairly well taken care of cat. Nobody outside of Slough House really know of its existence, the people at The Park couldn’t care less about what they do over there for the most part, and if anyone from there decides to visit the cat is always miraculously not around. Same thing happens with intruders. Whenever someone breaks in, the cat is long gone, and only emerges from whatever hiding space it’s been holed up in after everything has settled.

The cat becomes a staple of the building in the end, fairly well taken care of, at least as best taken care of as it can be by a group of disgraced spies, but it seems like it’s here to stay.

To anyone who read this far, hope you enjoy, this has been bouncing around in my head for the past couple days…

[acenshifts]

MHA Student Dr Bag⋆˚࿔

───────── ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ─────────

“Hey Em, what’s in your bag?”

“Oh, here let me show you.”

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

“This is my bag, and I keep all my stuff in here. It’s not super decorated yet, but I hope to add more stuff to it!”

・・・・・

“I have one notebook for each class! they’re all color coded too so I won’t forget what is what. I even have a weekly planner I use to keep track of classes and assignments.”

・・・・・

“This is my stationary pouch, I put all my supplies for school in here. Like my pretty pens, mechanical pencils, glue, marker, stinky notes, index cards, erasers, protractor, white out, extra lead & eraser bits.”

・・・・・

“I also have a mini hygiene pouch, I just have some chapstick, lotion, hand sanitizer, gum, mints, a mini fan, and some deodorant.”

・・・・・

“I can’t forget my waterbottle, I gotta stay hydrated through out the day. Sometimes i’ll throw in a packet of electrolytes in it if I know we’re gonna be very active that day.”

・・・・・

“I always keep headphones on me for studying, and a charger incase my phone gets low. Gotta keep in touch with my sister cause she’s out doing pro-hero stuff, I wanna make sure I don’t miss anything important.”

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

“Woahhhh, all your supplies is so pretty!”

“Thank you, I like keeping it pretty organized!”

───────── ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ─────────

[naebaetwsog]

haiii!! could you write something for tws about being older then them? love you writing btw! 🫶

○＊tws with a older girlfriend°×

genre. Fluff, the reader is older

warning. I mentioned “kink” on shinyus on but is not on the mature way, is like a joke, pls if you felt uncomfortable with me mentioning it tell me so I won’t do it again

pairing. Bf!tws x older!fem!reader

note. Here you goo, thank you for requesting this. And thank you for being such an active reader (I see your notifications every time I post and I really appreciate that). <333

Shinyu

Shinyu is obsessed with the fact that you’re older. He loves to be babied, and now he has the perfect excuse to lean into it. Every morning, he expects you to wake him up in the softest way possible—stroking his hair, whispering in his ear, or even just pulling him into a hug until he finally stirs awake. If you don’t? He’ll whine and pout about how you don’t love him anymore (dramatic).

He’s also extremely clingy. If you’re standing, he’s behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder. If you’re sitting, he’s sprawled across your lap like a cat. If you’re walking, he’s holding your hand and playing with your fingers. He spoils you so much that it feels like he’s the older one sometimes—always making sure you’re warm, hydrated, and well-fed. But if you try to return the favor? “No, no, no, I take care of you.”

Shinyu brags about you to everyone. “Yeah, my girlfriend is older than me. She’s so mature, so cool—what? No, I don’t have a noona kink—stop saying that!”

Dohoon

Loud. That’s the only way to describe Dohoon when it comes to you. He does not shut up about his love for you. “This is my girlfriend, isn’t she the prettiest person you’ve ever seen? Oh, did I mention she’s older? Yeah, older and the best person in the world.” (He’s that guy who posts soft-launch pictures of your hands with paragraphs of text about how much he loves you.)

You might be older, but Dohoon treats you like you’re younger. He loves spoiling you—buying snacks, taking you out on cute dates, texting you every five minutes just to make sure you’re okay. If you so much as sigh too deeply, he’s all over you. “What happened? Are you tired? Are you hungry? Do you need a massage? I can fight someone for you.”

And if someone tries to say anything about your age difference? He’s already shutting them down. “Why does it matter? Love is love, stay mad.”

Youngjae

Youngjae gives oldest son energy, so dating someone older than him? Perfect. He finally has someone to lean on. He loves the fact that you’re mature, that you give the best advice, and that you somehow always know how to handle things calmly. He admires you a lot for that.

That doesn’t mean he won’t let himself be taken care of, though. If he’s having a stressful day, expect him to show up at your place, lay his head on your lap, and just sigh dramatically. “Please baby me for a little bit. Just for a second. I need it.”

He’s also surprisingly possessive. He trusts you, of course, but if someone so much as flirts with you, he’s immediately stepping in. He might not be loud about it, but that hand on your waist? The way he subtly pulls you closer? Yeah. He’s making it clear you’re his.

Hanjin

Hanjin loves having an older girlfriend. He asks you so many questions. “Did this ever happen when you were my age?” “What do I do if someone makes fun of me?” “Is life harder when you’re older?” Sometimes, he just stares at you in awe like you’re the wisest person he’s ever met.

But even though he sees you as this super mature, experienced person, he also thinks you’re the cutest human alive. “You don’t even look your age! Your skin is so nice!!”

He sticks to you like glue. If you’re out in public, he’s walking so close that your arms are constantly touching. If you’re sitting, he’s pulling your legs over his lap. Hanjin is very physically affectionate, and having an older girlfriend just makes him even more obsessed with being around you.

Jihoon

Jihoon is a menace. The second he found out you were older, he smirked like he just discovered the biggest secret in the world. “So… Grandma, do you need help crossing the street?” “Do you need me to read the menu for you?” “Are you gonna be okay staying up past 9PM?” He lives to tease you.

But the moment you act like his noona—coaxing him to sleep, fixing his hair, or wiping crumbs off his face—he malfunctions. He gets all flustered and grumbles, “Stop treating me like a kid,” but he secretly loves it.

And when he’s not teasing you, he’s your biggest hype man. He’ll randomly kiss your cheek and be like, “You’re so hot.” Or if you’re in a group, he’ll randomly announce, “By the way, my girlfriend is the best person here.” Jihoon may be a menace, but he’s your menace.

Kyungmin

Since he’s the oldest in his family, Kyungmin loves having an older girlfriend because he finally has someone to take care of him. He lives for being babied. If he’s had a bad day at school? He’s calling you immediately. “You won’t believe what happened today.” And then he just rants.

He’s also very clingy. If he’s not physically attached to you, he’s texting you constantly. “Do you miss me?” “What are you doing?” “Send me a picture so I can survive the rest of the day.”

But he also adores making you happy. If he sees you stressed, he immediately drops everything to cheer you up. He’ll literally dance for you if it makes you laugh. Kyungmin loves being spoiled, but more than anything, he loves you.