#WTF IS IN THIS FIC...

[thappireths]

not a day goes by that i don't think about

honor thy regard by SigilBroken

[oh23]

[ It's Halloween, the bell rings at the Wayne Manor, Bruce Wayne goes to open the door. ]

Jason, dressed in a $5 Batman costume: trick or treat

Bruce:

Bruce: Why are you dressed like that.

Jason: Because it's my costume?? All you gotta do is go to the costume store and say make me look STUPID- [strikes a Batman pose]

Bruce, groaning: Don't stand like that!! That's not-

Jason: That's how you stand!

Bruce: That's not how I stand. I stand like-

Jason: This is exactly what you look like.

[barblaz-arts]

Gonna milk the fact that Charlie crushed on Vaggie first is canon as much as I can btw. I wanna know what living together was like for them for those few months for the sake of watching Charlie suffer.

[bamsara]

Death's Temple

Some art for some scenes I'm writing for much later

[paxbe]

if we ignore the fact that this doesn't fit with canon at all, i like to imagine a scenario where eddie somehow doesn't know who steve ‘the hair’ harrington is and, through a series of mix-ups, accidentally makes everyone think he has a huge crush on keith from the video store

like imagine a scenario where eddie is still friends with the kids and he's also friends with robin, so he's heard plenty about their friend steve and he just happens to have never met him or even seen him ever. like he's heard the kids gush about steve (leaving out the killing monsters part because that's classified) and robin mentions like ‘yeah i know steve! i work with him at the video store, you've probably seen him when you've swung by’. but somehow eddie has only come by when keith is working and he thinks ‘yeah sure, that looks like a guy the kids would be hanging out with’ and files that assumption away and doesn't question it.

and maybe they've even talked on the phone like eddie calls robin at the store or at home and she's like ‘yeah i’m just here with steve’ (as usual) and they chat about the kids and whatever and so eddie feels like he's got a pretty solid idea in his mind of this guy “steve” that his friends seem to like so much, and he seems like a nice enough guy even if they don't really have anything in common.

and yeah maybe he does think some of the comments that robin or the kids make are a bit weird, like when he thinks about “steve” (keith) he's a bit surprised that this guy apparently gets so much attention from the ladies, and eddie doesn't think his hair is anything particularly special. but eddie's not the most conventional looking guy either so who is he to judge! and he appreciates that robin offered to help set them up one time but “steve” just isn't his type (and she knows his type well enough so he doesn't know why she's so surprised). but still, there's no reason for eddie to think that he might be picturing an entirely different guy.

and then one day he walks past the video store and steve is working and eddie's like, mouth open ‘hang on who is this??’ and steve makes eye contact with him through the window and smiles or even waves because that's eddie, he knows eddie, they're kind of friends almost. and eddie just panics and books it out of there.

and like a week later he's still not over it and he calls robin (and of course steve is also there) and it's like

eddie: ‘hey who's that other guy you work with at the video store??’

robin and steve: ‘who, keith? yeah he's the guy who hired us, he's alright, we're not that close though’

and eddie's scandalised like: ‘how could you go on and on about steve (no offense steve) and somehow neglect to mention you work with maybe the most beautiful man in the world??’

and steve and robin are like: ‘keith????’

[saph-y]

Some cold, hungry, lost bois 🫶 (hi Terror fandom i just got here, thank you for keeping me *very* entertained lately)

[happypeachsludgeflower]

Okay okay okay.. but listen. What if Shen Yuan had a harsher System and was forced to convincingly play Shen Qingqiu, making Luo Binghe detest his existence, but when Luo Binghe returns from the abyss to enact his revenge and has Shen Qingqiu on trial at Huan Hua, unfortunately for everyone (and fortunately for us), they drug Shen Qingqiu with truth serum and accidentally spiral Shen Yuan into fanboy rampage of epic proportions about how great Luo Binghe is.

[madamechrissy]

Dying to write a oneshot where Satoru is like young 30's (Canon age) reader is 22, and he's banging your mom. MAYBE engaged to her (prob just dating)- mom is like 45? - and she's low-key a bitch LMAO, and you have the hots bad for him bc he's him. You have to see him half naked all the time and hear his ass moaning all pornographically in the next room (maybe you're home to save money for an apt idk) He's super conceited and ya'll annoy each other and rly be arguing and bickering, but somehow end up doing something one night and then it's hella awkward- I clearly have unresolved mommy issues.

But it'd be cheating AND low-key step dad vibes so I know damn well everyone will freak out on me lol. BUT IT'S DESTROYING MY BRAIN. Talk me out of it please and thank you! </3 or talk me into it lmaoo

[tossawary]

Thinking about third transmigrator fic ideas again and I remain intrigued by the concept of a person being shoved into the role of Mobei-Jun's mom. Stuck in a love angle between Linguang-Jun and Mobei-Jun's father, whatever the fuck went down there, sounds like a nightmare.

But I'm also intrigued by it from a character work perspective, because whatever potential fix-its or break-its that I might be tempted to apply, I'd still want this situation to produce a Mobei-Jun who is still believable and recognizable as himself: fucked-up and non-human. What do you even call this childhood experience? Being a "second-gen transmigrator"? Not fun.

Also, I want to create a setup solely for this comedic jump-scare situation:

Airplane, cursing under his breath in English (he's not fluent by any means) because f-bombs are great and no one knows what he's saying this way: "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

Mobei-Jun, suddenly, in fluent English: "What the FUCK did you just say?"

[camembri]

you wanted zoro to be on whole cake island to fulfil your weird desire to see zoro punish sanji. I wanted zoro on whole cake island because I think he's stupid enough to right place wrong time the plan and accidentally marry Sanji in full view of the whole wedding party in what becomes the most elaborately constructed comedy of errors ever written. we are NOT the same.

[nemesyaaa]

pygmalion au // rafe cameron x reader

summary ; “ you love someone you can shape, who has no will to escape. ” artist!rafe x muse!reader.

warnings ; unsafe feelings. slight of angst. smut. kind of fantasy/magic. art glorification. attachment issues. innocent!reader. fear of losing somebody. first time. rafe being a lost boy. dubcon. pygmalion' weird story. toxic!rafe. mentions of drugs. oral (m. receiving). p in v. insecurities. praising. artist hands appreciation. minors DNI.

author's note : 3,5 k words for this. one-shot. also a lot of tummy appreciation (tysm @shawtycoreee 🫶🏿). out of the smut, i tried to write it so poetic 😭🤟🏿

— “ wrap me up, enfold me. i am small and needy. warm me up and breathe me. ” breathe me by sia.

it was alone and late at night that rafe cameron began to create you, not really knowing at the time he started his art what work you would produce. he only cut the stone with his hands. before forming your body, he fantasized about it internally, not really knowing what a woman's anatomy actually looked like. you were like a crazy dream he was trying to sort out, a fantasy he was trying to make real. he sculpted with his straight calloused and tired hands, manipulating the fragile and sensitive material with precision.

he hated doing badly, but it was what he did best. as he worked, he sank into his own fascination. you were magnificent, no, you were divine, the glorious treasure from his hands. it was scary and breathtaking. he had never done anything so beautiful, never created anything so charming. you had this firm, seductive chest, completely bare and hard, the movement of the stone making your belly round and chubby. you were carved in marble, an inanimate statue that had found favor in the eyes of his creator.

when he had finished your face,

he had been amazed but above all frightened by what his fingers had achieved. he had given shape to your lips, your nose, your mouth and your eyes. and now that you had a look, it was like you were confronting him. because now that you had pupils, you could look at him too, you could judge him too. you could be as superior as him, but also equal to his worth.

you were his most beautiful work of art, literally his ethereal and angelic muse. and above all, you made him nervous. not only were you realistic, but you were a woman, you were like one of the goddesses from greek mythology, completely naked.

it was unexpected, but he had knelt before you, before your altar, on his legs and his hands. he was so white and desperate like a lost sinner having only his god to pray and glorify in order to survive.

you had seen his lips part in a prayer, his mouth tighten in a whisper. and you had ears, certainly made of stone, but you had heard it. you had heard his wish lost in the void. yet he had nothing of a believer, you could hardly imagine this man on the benches of a church, but you were also cruelly incapable of seeing and understanding who he really was.

when he stood up, you felt his hands on your skin, the coldness of his ring, but also the awkwardness of his touch. you could tell it was the first time he touched someone intimately, because he didn't really know where to put his hands but he also didn't know how to touch you without destroying you.

rafe cameron was not a god. he could break anything he touched. and maybe that was why he was so nervous and pathetic. you belonged to him now that he had created you so he refused to lose you without even knowing you.

he had hoped that god would make you a real woman, because you were perfect, too sublime to be just a piece of stone.

he didn't need to pull himself up to reach you, he was much taller, more intimidating in terms of size. he could lift you up and control you with just one hand.

you looked so alive so why, why did he only hear one heartbeat in the room? why was he alone breathing in this cold and empty room? why did you only have life in appearance?

you could feel in his look that he was questioning, that he was troubled, that all the beauty of his blue eyes was overwhelmed. but you had also felt his face so close to yours, his breath fanning across your molded lips. he had been hesitant, but his mouth had finally found yours.

and you surprised yourself by loving the taste of his pretty lips, but above all by being able to touch it.

and it was like that kiss had been real enough of how he felt about you that god had decided to give him a chance.

you had sensed all the ivory of your body, of your muscles, becoming sublimely gorgeous, all your stone beauty becoming human and alive. as if his devotion had allowed you to be free and to exist.

when he felt your mouth melt on his, he pulled back in fear. you weren’t supposed to be real even if he wanted you to be. since when did statues come to life?

"oh fuck, what's going on here?... i think i'm going crazy...all that fucking coke…”

“you created me.” you replied, slightly hurt by his reaction because he was supposed to be happy.

"no, you're not supposed to be alive. i mean, you're art, you can't be human."

“i’m human!” you contradicted, stepping forward from your marble base.

rafe wasn't sure if it was a nightmare or a dream. but his gaze was anchored on you, he couldn't take every inch of his eyes off your body. he was magnetized by your magnificence.

you came just close enough to take his hand and place it against your chest. “don’t be cold to me. don’t leave me. what would i do without you? you can't reject me. you need me. ”

maybe that was the game changer for rafe cameron. because he had just understood that since you were his, you belonged to him, you were entirely dependent on him. you couldn't escape, and above all, you had no desire to.

he could do what he wanted, you were like a doll created to respond to the slightest of his favors without ever complacent. you were not only perfect but unimaginable.

” be on your knees for me.”

and the next second, you were staring at him waiting for another order.

"mmh...i know your body by heart. i shape all of this. but you have never seen mine. no worry, i'm going to fix that, okay? you're going to please me tonight and not make me regret 'have given you life?”

you nodded in agreement and he smiled because you were too innocent, too sweet for someone like him. he had unzipped his pants, making them fall to his legs like his boxers.

and it was the first time you saw a naked man in front of you, but it was also fair for you because you had no clothes. “let me help you…” he offered with a smirk. his thumb had rolled over your lips, creating a slight slit between them. “ you need to open that pretty mouth wider...” he added, taking advantage of your vulnerability to use you.

"you know it will only hurt if you don't relax. so don't be tense. because even if it's big, you're gonna take it, doll. not gonna be easy on you because it's your first time. show me what you can do baby, let me feel how grateful you are for your creator. "

he had pushed his tip against your lips, forcing his way into your mouth, making you open bigger to accommodate his cock in your cavity. it was new to you, and you weren't even sure if you could satisfy him because it was the first time you had done something like that, and especially used your mouth in that way.

you thought this area was used to create intimacy between people, not to do dirty things.

“baby, i really appreciate how sweet you can be, but don’t let me do all the work…” he had scoffed. and your heart skipped a beat when he shoved himself further in your mouth, so much so that you felt him hit the back of your throat, all the speed of his harshly strokes leaving you breathless.

you choked on his movements, saliva pooling and dripping between the corners of your enlarged lips. “that’s what happens when you don’t do your part of the job properly…” his tone was falsely accusatory as you couldn’t catch your breath from his pace. he had no pity, you had turned on him too much. and to fix it, he blamed you by harassing your throat with his fat cock.

"but since you leave me no choice, let me show you how to be a good girl for me..." he had plugged your nose, pinching it hard, forcing you to take him entirely, without being able to breathe. his length swallowed in and out, your tongue barely able to support his weight which grew as he bullied your lips.

you belonged to him so he didn’t care if he ruined you a little. he told himself that he would repair you.

he released your nose when he felt you were about to pass, with a sadistic giggle. your eyes were wet with tears. “oh baby, don’t give me that look, you’re wasting your time, i don’t feel pity. ”

you continued to pump him until your jaw arched tighten and become more tense. he pulled out for a moment, spitting in your tongue, before using your throat again. his grunts were frantic and rapid, hot breaths in sync with the pornographic sounds that emanated from your sucking. his large palm was wrapped around the back of your neck, controlling your posture. “ give me that sweet eyes again, and i will make them cry.”

he took so much pleasure in watching you swallow him hard, grunting every time he entered your throat hoping to relax it but causing the opposite effect. "'ot finished. take those balls too." he had pulled back to lift his painfully throbbing dick and place it against his stomach, you had started to lick them, letting your tongue work the entire surface, coating them with saliva. "feel? how full they are. they're gonna stuff you real bad. " you sucked on them when he pushed them directly into your mouth, making him let out throaty sounds. your mouth felt so good, he wondered if your pussy would be just as her.

between your legs, it was completely soaked. your sloppy slit dripping onto the floor. it wasn’t like rafe was ignoring that mess. he was just purely mesmerized by your lips, by the way you cupped his balls so well, and how his cock reacted to each of your licks.

you were definitely his best work. it was more than art, it was heavenly. he was incapable of not using you after creating you. he had his urges, and you had to respond to them.

he had started fisting his length, leaving you lapping at his genitals dangling above your face. the cum had gushed through the air, landing on you. he had rubbed his trailing tip on your cheeks, giving a new color to your skin.

he wondered if you were human enough to feel all this degradation. in a short movement, he had placed you in front of the standing mirror of the workshop, and had driven his body against yours. he spat into his hand before jerking off a little, pressing the head of his cock against your sticky dirty folds.

he placed his arm across your stomach, one hand gripping one of your breast, pressing it more firmly once lodged inside you and grunted as he felt how tight you were, how hard your pussy stretched in his path. thanks to the mirror, he could see each of your reactions, but above all, see your part pumped each of his inches. all his size had disappeared between your flowing walls.

your twitching cunt clenched around his girth, your canal squeezing him. his thrusts were merciless, burrowing into your soiled folds. rafe rocked his hips roughly, as his dick bullied your puffy core. he wondered how a loser like him could have created a goddess like you. and he was desperate to know if he could make you stupid, if his cock that destroyed and filled you was good enough for someone like you.

you had created a mess and frustration in him.

he was in love with the bouncing flesh on your tummy against his arm, your tits swaying when you took him. it was a grace.

he reached out and hit your spot every time he buried himself inside you, his face sank in your left shoulder. you could feel the strands of his hair against your skin, his mouth against your collarbone. you were his, he was fucking you like this. you were only alive when he touched you. you could feel his obsession and adoration in every thrusts, no matter how brutal they were. it was his way of showing you that you couldn't escape him and that you could never.

his rhythm was hard, as your pudgy tummy jiggled under his strong fingers who were digging into you. you were so giddy, fucked like a ragdoll not able to said if it was the butterflies that make your stomach spiraling, or that thick dick shoved inch by inch further into your messy slick. his other digits at your clit, massaging the small and eager bud. he was big enough to maneuver you and embraced your small frame with his muscular biceps.

you were too little, too fragile underneath him.

he was your creator, he gave you air but he could also take it away from you. you were completely dependent, not only you, but every crumb of your body. he was pounding into you with the inability to detach his cock from your fluffy pussy. he loved hearing your voice choked with tears and moans against his ear. it was a sweet melody, a symphony.

your body was perfect, straddling his, your skin slapping his. your lips gurgling around his fingers that you could no longer take without dropping them, because of his violent assaults. you drooled all over your mouth, struggling with the drool that splashed all over his hand.

you couldn't see anything anymore, it was blurry. you didn't even feel tired anymore, you felt like a stupid doll, unable to think and reflect, only able to take this cock nastily harassing you and stretching you violently.

with his muscular and heavy hand on your throat, he forced you to look at the mirror. there was something incredible and perfect in his hands, and you knew it from the moment he started sculpting you. they were so good and incredible, covered with veins that systematically bulged. they captured your belly fat well. “don’t hide this from me. it’s my property.”

he had harpooned your flesh between his fingers, making it move and hang down more as he fucked you senseless.

“if i shaped you like that, that meant i wanted you like that.” your tummy was caged in his grasp. “ i mean, look at that belly, it's all beauty, i swear.”

he had moved his hand to the lower part of your stomach, pressing that area of your skin, feeling his bulge farther in you. in this corner of the room, there was only you and him, only your whimpers against his fingers and the pleasure you felt. there was only this mirror that stared at you and reflected you in the darkness with the only light of the moon as a beacon.

you were divine, you had the perfect body of a goddess. and even having cum with you, even causing your third orgasm, he didn't want to pull out. it was as if he was afraid of the emptiness he expected after this. and maybe you too were dreading the emptiness inside you after he filled you up so well, your soaked pussy dripping with his cum, drooling all over the floor.

he had finally taken it out, his fingers entering you to collect his mixture and place it against your lips. “don’t let it go to waste.”

you had cleaned his fingers until they were pure again.

he had his eyes on you, like a human in front of art.

he still didn't realize. but he refused to let you escape. but it wasn't like you could. he had created a home here, all over this room and in you. he had established a domain in every inch of your skin. he only had to see you to know that you were his own creation.

you kissed him, slightly awkwardly but he made up for it with his mouth on yours. “you can’t abandon me.” he whispered. “i don’t want to abandon you.”

and it felt good to hear your words. you didn't know him well enough, or not really, to know how sick he was. but you felt grateful that he gave you life, because it was priceless. he had made you, and you were his.

“ what are you doing?” when you felt chains encircling your wrists, you weren’t sure if you liked it. "i really want to believe in you sweetheart but i also can't trust anyone. you have legs, you can run away from me but with this metal, you're stuck.”

“i don’t really like it…” you admitted and he replied “no one likes it but the difference is that you don’t really have a choice either. you're mine. your feelings, your body, your eyes, all of that is mine. even that pouty sweet face of yours. ”

you turned your head to let him know that you didn't appreciate it, and to give him the silent treatment. and he smiled. “it doesn't kill me, baby. you can pout. ”

you didn’t respond. "you really want to give me this treatment? maybe you really don't want me to be nice to you after all..."

he had smiled. “"okay...I'll give you what you want." he had disappeared for a few minutes before coming back with an object that you couldn't identify. " what is this ? "

"now, baby wants to talk...but it's a little too late, i'm making the rules here so...say hello to your new favorite toy. it's a gagball.”

you didn't feel it was useful until the ball went into your mouth and stopped you from speaking. you could only drool and grumble around the object.

"why that face, baby? that's not what you wanted? i swear you still look pretty. just quieter. i'm going to go to sleep. and tomorrow you'll show me how sorry you are for that attitude. you want to know if i would forgive you? maybe it would be too easy, you understand? you have all night to prepare excuses and they better please me because i can be even more creative than that to punish you. “

the next day he woke up in a good mood. and above all, you were always there.

he had picked up the bottle of water from his table, wondering if you were thirsty. but when he arrived in front of you, he changed his mind. he used it to wake you up.

"i'm so clumsy...sorry, baby." but there wasn't an ounce of regret in his voice so you knew he was joking. you learned to read his face.

“you know how sorry i am…” he added, facing your gaze.

“you’re not…”

"yes, right. such a clever baby. are you thirsty?”

" yes..."

“maybe if you show me how good and nice you are today, i can consider bringing you another bottle.”

"what do you want..."

“it’s not what i want, sweetheart. but what you will do to satisfy me. see the small difference ? ”

it had been several weeks, a month in fact, since the day of your creation. you had spent your time in this workshop, chained to this wall. you were only alone when rafe left, when he left you in the shadows.

in fact, he was clearly having fun with you. you were dependent on his affection, and he knew it. you reacted to the slightest attention he gave you, even the most mean and bad. but above all you were incapable of hating rafe cameron.

he had made you a magnificent creature, a living human, you would be even crueler than him if you hated him.

after all, you were his muse. he had the right to use you. that was also the thought he had drilled into your brain.

everything he did was for you. and you should be grateful.

but sometimes he wondered, if he killed you, would you come back to life? was there magic in you or was he just in a fucking wonderful dream? he did enough coke to get high for days but this time it lasted too long for it to be fake.

your relationship was strange because sometimes you felt loved, especially when he hugged you after being rough with you, his palm gently caressing your back. like any human, there was tenderness in him. he could be nice. he knew how to be one but that didn't mean he enjoyed being one. he just thought that if he was too mean, you would disappear.

and that was not something he could tolerate. during all this time spent with you, he had not learned, no, he had not succeeded, to live without you.

artists brought art to life, but art gave meaning to the artists' lives.

before you, he was alone.

he had prayed for you. he needed you. it was his final call.

rafe cameron fell in love with you before he created you, before he even imagined you.

and maybe that was why he was so mean to you, because he never knew love, so how can you blame him for not knowing if you loved him back or make fun of him?

he was pathetic, full of rage and violence. but you couldn't hate him, because you and him shared the same tears. the same pain.

he made you, and you made him. he was afraid and you were scared. you wanted someone to love you, and he wanted someone that could love him.

“ i swear, y/n. don't leave me alone. even when you looked away, you make me feel like a monster when i'm not. so please, do the same as me. ”

“ what ? ”

“ don't make me feel like somebody else exists. i'm the only world you can live in. ”

[seokminfilm]

only yours ── choi seungcheol

🤍 pairing, choi seungcheol x reader

🤍 warnings, non-idol au, short, fluff, a little bit of angst, secret relationship, jealous seungcheol, seungcheol lowkey has an attitude, mingyu is mentioned to be a flirt, kissing, confession, seungcheol calls reader darling/angel

🤍 summary, in which seungcheol wants to know that you're only his.

🤍 author's note, hi guys *walks back into posting like i haven't been missing for ages* guess who's back! saw these coups pics and legitimately almost exploded into pieces of colorful confetti cause he's so fine 🧍knew i had to write something w these pics (PLUS lyrnation seems to LOVE my seungcheol fics for some reason) 🤷 i hope you all enjoy it, and thank you so much for 500 followers!! halfway there to 1k wtf???

🤍 now playing, xo (only if you say yes) (enhypen)

🤍 word count, 689 | for @kstrucknet, @maestro-net

"wait—what if someone sees?"

you pull away from seungcheol hurriedly, cheeks still warm with blush as seungcheol cradles your chin with his hands. he's searching your eyes, too focused on what was happening before even saying anything. the two of you had retreated to the car after mingyu had to say goodbye.

("retreated to the car" basically meaning that seungcheol had pulled you out of there as soon after mingyu said he had to go.)

"let them see, darling. i can't wait anymore." seungcheol pouts, and you don't even try to fight him, letting him bring his lips back to yours as he sighs dreamily under you.

it had been a long day for seungcheol—the two of you had decided to hang out with mingyu since his plans with everyone else were canceled last minute, and mingyu had flirted with you the whole time, unknowingly upsetting seungcheol in the process.

seungcheol knew that you loved him and were his girlfriend, but seeing mingyu attempt cheezy pickup lines and buy you lunch made seungcheol see red.

and, what made it even worse, was that you didn't even seem to notice that mingyu was flirting with you, going along with his acts of kindness without a second thought.

"seungcheol—" you pause, sentence swallowed by another one of seungcheol's warm kisses against your lips. "seungcheol, wait."

"what?" seungcheol's voice is nearly a growl now, and you put a hand on his chest, softly pushing him away as you pause to catch your breath.

seungcheol waits patiently, dark eyes glued to your figure as the setting sun lights up your back in a halo of light. you look beautiful in this moment—so beautiful seungcheol just wants to kiss you even more.

"did i do something? why are you acting like this?" you ask innocently, and seungcheol lets his head fall against the chair, letting out a pained sigh as he runs a hand through his dark hair. his thick eyebrows crease together, pouty lips pressed together as he glares at you.

"cheol, use your words, oh my god." you sigh exasperatedly, and seungcheol rolls his eyes, cheeks heating up as he crosses his arms.

"mingyu was flirting with you, and it was pissing me off. hell, it still is pissing me off, angel." seungcheol's voice is low, embarrassed, and you stare at him with confusion painted all over your face as you repeat his words. "mingyu? flirting with me?"

"yes, he was flirting with you. did you hear all the stupid pick-up lines he was using on you? the asshole even paid for your fucking lunch. that's my job." seungcheol argues, and your eyes widen, face flushing.

"i just thought he was being nice." you mumble embarrassed, and seungcheol rolls his eyes, slamming them shut as he mumbles. "of course you did, angel. you think everyone's nice."

the two of you fall silent, cheeks flushed for different reasons. you sit quietly, stunned that seungcheol had reacted to mingyu's flirting in such a way. seungcheol, on the other hand, was flushed because of anger. mingyu had his time to steal you away today, and you unknowingly let him.

"oh. i'm sorry." you whisper, and seungcheol shakes his head, looking at you as he takes your hands in his.

"no, don't be sorry, darling. if anything, i should be apologizing because of how i reacted. i—" seungcheol pauses, taking a sharp inhale as he shrugs, jean jacket ruffling with his movements. "it made me so angry, seeing mingyu flirt with you like that. i never wanted to have the world to know you were mine more than in that moment.

you lock eyes with seungcheol, studying the strong slope of his nose and the plumpness of his lips. his thick eyebrows are unfurrowed now, resting against his face calmly as he gives you a small smile.

"you're mine though, right? not mingyu's?" seungcheol asks softly, and you nod, laughing as seungcheol leans over. his face is now just a few centimeters from yours, and he tucks your hair behind your ear, staring into your eyes as you answer.

"yours, cheol. only yours."

[ohno-the-sun]

Hehe hoho kicking my feet like a schoolgirl over this au

@head-in-the-icloud ‘s Royal Jesters au

[queenie-ofthe-void]

Steve finally agrees to play DnD to appease Dustin's incessant begging, but mostly to spend more time with Eddie, who he's got a massive crush on.

Cue Steve rolling a Nat 20 when trying to persuade an inn keeper to let a band of fugitives stay the night for free.

He sees it for the opportunity it is and cranks up the full Steve Harrington charm, laying it on as thick as he can.

Eddie, face on fire but unable to tear his eyes away from Steve literally smoldering at him, spills pop all over his DM notes and has to cancel the rest of the session for reasons...

... to go home and fix his notes, of course. Definitely not to go make out in Steve's car.

[timdrakeslawyer]

there are many duos im fond of with tim but him w his big bro will always be at the top :( they mean so much to me!

(nightwing 1996 #69)

[livecrow]

Gundog!Soap's errand gets derailed when he catches your scent.

A retriever "retrieves" a plump bird.

Shifter/Hybrid Dark!Soap x fat reader

(cw: kidnapping)

Soap’s popping down to the shops.

He just needs to pick up an ingredient for dinner last minute. Ghost isn’t home yet, so he’s off the lead. Unsupervised. Normally, they’d get the messages together, but he only needs one thing. He could manage it. It wouldn’t be more than a wink.

But as he mills about, he can’t help feeling off.

Like he really is a dumb dog wandering around without his owner, his lead might as well be dragging on the floor behind him, collecting lint and stray bread ties—

It’s turning into one of those days where he feels far more mutt than man. 

Without Ghost’s firm hand grounding him, the place is a cacophony of input. Too many smells, too many sounds, too many colors, too much movement—all melding together into a murky emulsion of stimulus under the glaring LEDs. 

He squints down the vast row of isles for longer than he’ll admit.

Eeigit.

He should have written a note.

Thought he could have remembered one bleedy thing. Ye dinnae need a list for one thing—

Feeling frustrated and dafty, he resigns himself to traipsing down each aisle and hoping something jogs his memory. Pride wouldn’t let him call up Lt. He’d never hear the end of it. He’s a birddog for chrissake, proper braw at findin’ things—when he knows what he’s fuckin’ looking for. 

Least he can skip the sundries. He knows that much. Soap’s more than happy to avoid the detergent aisle. Stuff is bowfin. Stings his nose, makes his heid ache.

Lot of good his heid was anyway, feeling fuzzy, like it was packed with cotton. Might as well be. Nothin’ else between his ears. Certainly not the one fuckin' thing he pulled on his gutties and left the house for—

He let's loose an irritated huff and it's probably a bit too close to a growl than is wise.

Soap's trying to make good time, but he's a solid four isles in and hasn't had any luck. Eventually, he finds himself staring down a sea of tins. Fruit and veg, beans, and the sort. His eyes scanned the labels, but even readin' was a real Herculean task when he's feeling so out of sorts.

The canine part of him can't be convinced deciphering rows of little lines and squiggles is a proper use of his time. Especially when he could be usin' his nose instead.

Some wee bairn has starts greetin’ a few aise down.

—Green beans, peas, sliced carrots, corn, diced potatoes. Nae, that wasn't it—

....who in their right mind buys tinned tatties?

A passing trolley is making an awful racket. Discordant shrill squeaks and clunks of a stuck wheel scraped against his ear drums.

—It’s definitely not the asparagus—shites mingin’, and that’s fresh. Wouldnae faff about with a recipe that called for that. Cannae think how foul tinned would be… 

Soap sighs in exasperation. As he goes to abandon this aisle, he steps back to turn and bumps into something.

Soft. Soft, soft, softness presses into his hip—

The kind of softness that cradles, that molds around him. Softer than any of his toys. Soft an’ cozy as his own bed, maybe—nae, softer. His bed didn't have the same give, the same wobble. It was a softness that sent a literal shiver up his spine, saliva pooling in his mouth. That smell—

Not something, someone then.

An incidental collision, a bird had been trying to slip by him just as he stepped backwards.

The touch was there and gone in a second but he was mournful for its absence. The scent lingered at least, soothed the whine that crawled into his throat. There was no artifice to it, no acrid chemical edges that came with any fragrance found in a bottle.

You had actually managed to catch him off guard. The shiver that rattled through him began with a slight jolt of surprise at the two of your union. He must have been more out of it than he thought, he hadn't even noticed anyone else in the aisle. He'll never get used to being startled, but he wouldn’t hold that against you.

“Oh, sorry,” you muttered apologetically as you stepped back, embarrassment coloring your face. The contact clearly ruffled your feathers a bit.

Soap’s mouth shuts with an audible click, he hadn’t realized his lips were parted. He hurriedly swallows a completely unadvisable pant in your direction.

“Nae bother, hen,” he blinks. Finally finding his human voice, responding like he's supposed to when he's out and about on two legs. It’s a little breathier, a beat later than he should have responded, lower too. There's a rasp there that chafes the very air. 

...Maybe his head wasn't packed with cotton.

Maybe it was your soft, downy feathers that was muddling him up, making itself a sweet little nest in his cranium—

The bird sends him a polite, restrained smile as it scurries off.

His world narrowed, like he was watching through a spyglass. Or was it a scope? Regardless, everything else but you dissolved into blur, even his peripheral was swallowed up. Framed you in a vignette. Every tiny aspect of the minute interaction seared painlessly into his mind.

A pretty, fat partridge.

Wandering too close.

Game like that, ambling by all round and plump, right under his snout? Feathers close enough they almost tickle his nose—

It's instinct, ya ken?

Mind, for a dog that retrieves quarry, it’s in his nature. Cannae help it anymore than the shade of his coat. So, is it the dog's fault then, when he lunges? Snatches the bird up, into his warm mouth? Firm and soft all at once. The delicate control from a pup that can cradle a raw egg without fracturing the shell. When he brings it back to his master, tail waggin’ as he’s done a hundred other times?

Nae. Noone’d blame him.

He can already practically feel the pantomime thumping of your frantic heartbeat in his mouth—echoing his own excited pulse. 

Soap’s keen eyes never left his prey, even as your back was foolishly to him. His hind paws were already ahead of his brain, he followed, trailing at a distance. Stalking.

Thing should know better, he might have been a wolf. You’d have waddled straight into it's gaping maw, mistake the canines for stalactites and his tongue for a cozy spot to lay your little head.

But no, he’s no wolf. He’s safe. Won't take a bite out of you. He's a good boy— 

Good dog.

Bird dog. A Gordon Setter, Si says.

A jack of all trades, proficient at tracking, pointing, and retrieving. A soft-mouth breed. That’s very important. Most dogs cannae do what he can. Pick up a bird without pricking it. Ghost has been working with him, trainin’ him up. Helping him be more patient, learn new tricks.

Your scent—it was so hard to describe, but he luxuriated in it, nose twitching. It was warm, but not torrid. Sweet, but not cloying. Rich, but not heavy—

Familiar, somehow. Like a childhood lovey. Cheek-worn and supple as a lamb's ear. 

He’s struck by a piercing déjà vu.

It should have confounded Soap—but it didn’t. It just was. The strange mix of familiarity and unfamiliarity that shouldn’t normally coexist. He didn’t know you, nae. But it felt like he should. Maybe he’d seen you in a dream? Some sticky remnant from a past life? Nothing else could explain the strength of the reaction that gripped him by the scruff. Commanded him to “fetch”.

...He’s doin’ so well. Being so, so careful—game’s normally still, after all. Not wriggling about anymore. Is much more effort to control his grip on a bird thas tryin' to fly away.

Thing squealing like a squeaky-toy doesn’t help, zaps somethin' in his brain, even though he’s hardly pressing. Ghost will look at you an’ see there’s no teeth marks on you. He’s being good. Knows better. Not even a tiny nibble. 

Soap's so pleased.

Only wish he'd had his tail out, so he could articulate his excitement properly.

He’ll take you home and keep you. Rest a heavy paw on you when he wants you to stay put. Carry you round the house with him. Share his food with you. Show you his other toys. Only roughhouse gently, like he would a puppy. Bat you around a bit. Paw at you real gentle like. This soft, living squeaky-toy that he can nap with. Even let you nest in his own bed, tucked under his chin. He’d only ever mouth at you gently, you'd learn you wouldn’t have to fear his teeth. He’d rasp his tongue over you, help you preen yer pretty feathers.

He ached to sigh happily against you, rut his face against you. Wanted all the rest of his sighs to be against you, pressed into your skin. Nose at your crown, in your soft neck, on your squishy belly. He’s curious where on you that scent would be the strongest.

Ghost will be so proud when he sees, when he proudly lays you at his boots—

You'll like his owner. He'll pet you real nice. Ghost always knows the right spot, even before you do. Thoughtful.

So thoughtful that he won't even mind that he'll have to sort something else out for dinner.