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gothamundernightlight · 1 year ago

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Random Shit the Waynes Do on Social Media

Dick:

- The white whale of D1 and Olympic gymnastics athletes; always stitches their stunts and challenges, executing them perfectly, but no one knows who he is or who trained him

- Shares pictures of random children, and the whole internet becomes a detective trying to figure out if Bruce Wayne adopted another kid or if his gymnastics students won another trophy

- Photo montages of Haley being the cutest, which slowly transitions into Haley in whatever cute hat the internet can send to Dick’s PO Box

- Random video of him skydiving while giving tips on what to do if your chute doesn’t deploy. He never deploys his chute doing the video and no one can tell if it’s a bit or not.

Jason:

- AI Voiceover text posts providing surprisingly insightful analysis into classic literature

- A full six part rant on the Broadway adaptation of “The Great Gatsy”

- Random selfies complete with wildly made up backstories of any and every new injury he has

- Prank war on Damian specifically (this was intended for Talia but his finger slipped and now the whole internet loves it)

Tim:

- Randomly goes live to do study/work/research with me sessions complete with an actually decent Lofi soundtrack that no one can find (He totally mixes it himself but won’t admit it)

- Did ONE social media vlog for WE’s marketing division and it went so viral he gets forced to do more. The dead eyed stare he gives the camera with every stupid dance the intern teaches him makes the video top-tier

- Cute couples videos with Bernard

- Skateboard tricks (and fails)

- Screenshots of text conversations between him and his siblings discussing the most random shit??

Cass:

- Dance routines/pre-show/GRWM videos

- Shakily filmed videos of her kicking Dick’s ass and everyone just calls her a baddie in the comments. She doesn’t know what that means but she appreciates the love.

- Her and Steph’s late night food runs with the two of them just belting out to a song in a dark parking lot

Steph:

- Posts riddles and puzzles and how to solve them. She’s really good at it. Riddler hates her.

- Apartment tour of all the purple shit she owns. She’ll never admit that the room she’s showing off is her Wayne Manor bedroom, so everyone believes she just has a moderately sized loft apartment somewhere and she just never shows the kitchenette

- Her and Cass’s late night food runs with the two of them just belting out to a song in a dark parking lot

- POV shots of her going up to the boys asking them random questions. Dick matches her energy. Jason tells her to fuck off. Tim is barely conscious. Damian always has an overly rational answer to take the fun out of it. Duke just stares blankly at her (he always comes back later with a proper answer now that he’s had time to think about it). Bruce just stares blankly at her

Damian:

- Art reveals that never get many views but he’s still proud of nonetheless. Dick always comments on them to hype him up

- Accidentally recreates a popular vine that went viral and it’s just him insulting fellow GA kids under his breath but one of them says hi to him and he’s instantly polite back. His most popular video

- The multi-part experiment of him trying to Pavlov Tim, and when it actually works, Tim just chases Damian around the manor. The video cuts to black frames after Tim takes a flying launch at him

- All the pet videos. There are so many. People try to cancel him for exploiting them, but Damian clearly demonstrates that he would never force his animals to participate for views and how they will just leave if they don’t want to do something. Batcow is in the background just two-stepping unprompted

Duke:

- Every morning without fail, he posts a daily sunrise pic of Gotham, with a positive affirmation caption. One day he’s sick and he wakes up to a thousand messages of people panicking because their favorite poster has disappeared. He never misses a sunrise again

- Passionate rants about local government. Will not shut up about it. He might be an anarchist, but he’s forever remain optimistic that one day the systems that define society will one day actually work for all people. Bruce has every single one saved so he can implement Duke’s ideas into reality

- Boxing videos of him training with Luke. It’s never meant to be a thirst trap…but sometimes it is

- Dumb selfies. Duke unironically loves taking them, no matter what face he pulls, what filter he uses, not even caring where he is. This gets him in trouble the one time he posts one of him leaning off the edge of a high rise roof

Babs:

- Constant lectures on cybersecurity and internet safety. She teaches this at the library as a volunteer but feels she can reach a lot of people by building a platform

- Computer build stuff. Brands reach out to her for her reviews and she thoroughly discusses each product in length

- Rarely posts about her disability, but absolutely tears people to shreds when they make ableist comments about her. The only time she brings it up first is when City Hall takes over a month to fix their elevator and she calls them out on it

Harper:

- Electronics repairs. She constantly takes things apart to teach people how to fix it, and this can range from toys to cars. On more than one occasion , her video has been interrupted by someone who planned to be using the vehicle she’s just taken apart

- 2 AM hair dye/maintenance sessions. She constantly gets comments from men being like “Therapy works too, y’know” or “No, you’re so beautiful? Why would you do that to yourself.” She responds to the comments with a video of a gun pointed at the camera with the sole caption being “Fuck Off.”

- Gym videos. She and Dick work out together and he’s the ultimate hype man

- Outfit montages of her getting ready for a random gala and she’s always pulling off the most masc-looking suits that look gorgeous on her

Helena:

- Target practice. She does all kinds of trick shots and crazy crossbow stunts in a wide variety of outfits. Her most popular video is of her in a corset and platform heels.

- Her and Steph bonding over all things purple

- Outfit of the Day posts. The girl has expensive tastes and she absolutely shows it off.

Bruce:

- Occasionally does promo stuff for WE (because Tim refuses to do all of it, and their social media intern won’t back down)

- Shares absolutely wild stories from his college years that somehow always get proven to be true even when the whole comments section is just like “this seems false???”

- Kid tour. He saw one mom do it and felt sad bc he’s never get the kids to agree, but somehow they all did (Alfred bribed them.)

- Shares everything from each one of the charities he’s involved with. Has reposted every single one of their posts on his own personal channel. It raises them hundreds of followers each time.

- One of the kids posted a video montage of Bruce being Brucie and it’s so utterly humiliating? But he won’t delete it because all of the comments say he’s their favorite billionaire and that’s more than his own kids will say.

- Random Pride Month post. Every year it catches people by surprise and every gossip magazine always wonders if Bruce is coming out. He’s just being an ally (and potentially is in denial).

Alfred:

- Prefers not to use social media, but one of the boys filmed him doing random things to teach the internet how to do things properly, like making the bed, doing laundry, etc. Is the internet’s favorite grandpa.

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ariestrxsh · 11 months ago

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customer!matt x stripper!reader

⁭🎀⁭ content warning: smut, lap dance, role play, fingering, oral (f!receiving) unprotected sex, praise, pussy worship, exchange of money for sex

🎀 summary: while working a busy night at your local strip club, you see a familiar face in the crowd, but the two of you pretend not to know each other for the night

if you're looking for a chris version with a similar storyline, you can read it here 💖

dividers by @/dollywons

Taste

I had just recently started my job at a local strip club, and because I was new and unsure about how the people in my life would react, I opted out of telling my friends and family about it, so instead I told everyone I got hired at a bar, which wasn't entirely false. We did serve alcohol.

It took me a few weeks to get comfortable dancing in my heels, and a month before my legs weren't sore after every shift. Having been here a little shy of six months, I was making enough money to spend on even sexier lingerie so I could bring in even more tips. I was also learning new tricks on the pole.

I liked my job honestly, and I didn't feel like there were many people who could say that. I liked the work, I liked the women I worked with, I got paid well, and I even liked a lot of the customers. I had fun teasing men and spending my time with them while they gave me money and attention. It was a nice exchange. And I felt like I was genuinely getting to know some of them, even though they weren't exactly getting to know me. I was putting on a persona, and it was usually catered to the person I was servicing at the time, but it's not like it wasn't me. It was just only one aspect of me that I amped up and played heavily into. But I loved it. I loved dressing up and playing a role that was so different from my everyday demeanor and being what these men wanted me to be. In my everyday life, I was reserved, introverted, and kept to myself most of the time, but when I was dancing, I was an exaggerated version of who I was when no one was looking. My fantasies, my sexual desire, an alter ego if you will.

It was almost my time to go on. I reapplied my body glitter and made a few finals tweaks to my outfit. I was wearing a white sparkly corset that pushed my breasts up nicely and a matching thong as well as glass six inch heels. I had my hair down but out of my face and curly. "Give it up for Mary Jane," the announcer came on. I didn't want to use my real name at my work, so I decided on Mary Jane because it was innocent sounding and was also nothing like my real name. 'Taste' by Tyga and Offset played over the speakers, there was a spotlight on me and other lights around me flashed and changed colors, and I seductively strutted towards the pole in front of me, gripping it with one hand and doing a little spin around it. I slowly descended down the pole with my back to it until I was in a squat, looking out at the crowd of men who were eager to see my body and what it could do. I came back up and hooked one of my legs around the pole, doing a ballerina spin around it. I could feel all these eyes on me, and I gained even more confidence as the dollar bills started raining at me feet.

I made eye contact with a few customers I recognized, men who were regulars. Then my gaze scanned across a familiar face that wasn't one I usually saw in this setting. Matt Sturniolo? In a strip club? This was not his scene at all. We were decently close friends, but I certainly hadn't told him I applied here, and I didn't think it was necessary considering I didn't think I'd ever see him here. He appeared to be alone. No one I recognized was near him. And when we made eye contact, he was looking at me some sort of way I'd never been looked at by him before, like he was hungry for me. He had to have recognized me, right? I may look different with my tits pushed up to my chin, but not that different.

I focused my attention back to my dance, manipulating the attention of every man in the room, contorting my body in ways that had every man wishing they were the pole between my legs. I finished my song, collected my ones, tucked them into my corset, and carefully got down from the stage.

Once I looked up from watching my feet as I stepped off the stage, I saw Matt making his way over to me. I was really nervous about what he might say. If he'd be mad that I didn't tell him I was working here or if he'd tease me. Instead, he looked me up and down with his lust-filled blue eyes and licked his lips. "How much for a dance from you?" He asked me, smiling. He couldn't be serious. I hesitated for a second. I had never been put in a position where someone I recognized outside of the club came in and asked me for a dance.

On some level, it felt inappropriate. On another level, it felt like a bad business move to not take him up on it. "$100 for three songs," I responded nonchalantly. He casually took a $100 bill out of his wallet and tucked it into my corset with my other money. I liked the way he did that. Then he grabbed me by the waist and started walking with me towards the back of the club where he could sit down. "So, Mary Jane, did they say?" Matt asked as he sunk into his chair and looked up at me, almost as if studying the way I was gonna respond.

Was he going to pretend he didn't know me? Was this part of the fantasy, acting like we were two strangers who just met in a strip club when we're actually pretty close friends outside of this. I nodded. I turned around and began grinding on him, and he grabbed my waist in response, slowly running his fingers down my curves. "How long have you worked here, Mary Jane? Matt asked me. "Nearly six months," I replied while I shifted my weight so I was resting right against his half-hard cock. He let out a groan in response. "It's a shame I've missed you any time I've been in here," he answered. "You come here often?" I asked, it sounding like a bad pick up line in my head. "Sometimes, depends on what's going on in my life. Depends on my needs at the time," he told me. I didn't know that about Matt.

There was something about being on his lap, brushing up against his hardening member in his pants that was turning me on more than I thought it should be. I had given men lap dances before that I'd found attractive, and it definitely left me a little wet a few times. But this was different. I definitely had always found Matt attractive, and there was an extra layer to this, Matt and I acting like this was our first time meeting. The way his demeanor was different in this setting and the way mine was too. I was beginning to wonder if I was starting to enjoy this more than he was.

"I wanna see your face," Matt growled into my ear, and I obliged by turning around and straddling him. I went back to basically riding him with our clothes on while we looked into each other's eyes. Matt's hands almost immediately found their way to my ass. "You have an incredible body, you know that?" Matt commented. "You're not so bad yourself," I smirked at him. Matt's hands moved from my ass to my breasts. The way he handled me was gentle but with purpose and demanding at the same time. I loved the way his hands traced my body while I continued to grind against him. "Fuck, I wanna kiss you so bad," Matt responded, staring at my lips. "You can if you have another $100 on you," I replied. No matter how badly I wanted to kiss him, I made it a rule that I'd always charge for intimate touch like that, because the men had to know it was transactional. I didn't want to make anyone feel lead on. This was my job, and this was a sale.

Matt shifted my hips so that I was straddling his knee now instead as he reached for his wallet in his pocket. I found myself holding my breath as his leg rubbed up against my already wet cunt and caused friction that sent a shock of pleasure through my nerve endings. It took everything in me to keep from riding his thigh while he pulled another benjamin out of his wallet and tucked it into the bra of my corset. I leaned in to kiss him. His lips were soft and pouty. His kiss was gentle, the same as his touch. His tongue slowly slipped into my mouth and brushed against my own. It was wet and velvety. While he passionately kissed me, his hands made their way to my face, softly cupping it. I pulled away, looking at him with a deep desire.

"Your three songs are almost over," I whispered, maintaining control of the situation. "I can pay for another three songs," Matt said, about to shift me onto his knee again. "Matt, please. As your friend, I can't let you do this. $300 is a lot of money to be spending at a strip club," I lectured him, breaking character. "Mary Jane, tonight I'm just another customer. I make my own money, I can spend it how I like," Matt bit his lip at me. "I wanna spend it on you, baby. I wanna spoil you," his words sent more waves of ecstacy through my body.

"Alright, another three songs," I said putting out my hand to accept another bill. "Actually, how much to take you to the private room?" Matt gestured towards the more intimate spaces where no one could see us. "All that you have in your wallet," I said jokingly, making a gun with my hand and jabbing it into his chest, but he took me seriously. He pulled out his wallet, grabbed a wad of cash, stuck it in my g-string this time, and tipped his wallet upside down to show me it was empty all while he smiled. I reached down to the money he'd put in my panties. "Only catch is, I want you for the whole night. Until the club closes," Matt growled while I counted the money. There was almost $1000 in my hand. I was shocked that Matt had this kind of money to blow at a strip club. And the fact that he did this semi-regularly? Matt was very quiet about how much money he had and about what a freak he was, and I liked that.

I thought about declining his offer and telling him I couldn't mix business, friendship, AND pleasure. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I'd be dumb not to. He was hot, he wanted me, and I'd never made this much money in one night before. "Deal," I said, tucking the money into my corset. Matt grinned at me. "Follow me," I said, leading him back.

I'd taken men into the private rooms before many times, and I liked it. It was quieter, away from all the noise. There was a bed and a couch. Usually, men would take me in there because they wanted more privacy. I'd never slept with a customer, no matter how much I'd been offered, but there were a few times where I'd definitely maybe crossed an ethical line that could technically get the club in trouble, but I'd never tell. I was good at keeping secrets. There were a few men I'd given handjobs to, one john who had taken my tits out of my bra and teased my nipples with his tongue, and one guy who rubbed my clit over my panties until he made me cum. I remembered being so embarrassed and blushing after that encounter, but that was the most money I'd ever made in one night. Until tonight.

"Why don't you take that top off?" Matt inquired when we were alone in the room. I smirked at him as I pulled all the cash out of my bra and set it next to my shoes I'd slipped out of to get more comfortable. I was nervous for him to see me like this, but it was just business. I started undoing the clasps on my corset when Matt came up behind me to help me. When all the hooks were undone, Matt slowly slid my straps down my shoulders one by one. He let my corset slowly fall to the ground, and when it did, he took both breasts into his hands and looked at them in awe. "Shit," he whispered to himself, fondling them, brushing up against my sensitive nipples.

Matt made his way to the couch and comfortably sprawled out, taking up space and licking his lips while his eyes studied my every curve while running his hand along his hard dick in his pants. "Come here, princess," Matt said, rubbing his leg and patting it, motioning for me to sit down, so I did. Once I leaned back into him, he played with my nipples some more, teasing them, pinching them, sucking on them. His hands slowly moved to the front of my panties, rubbing me through the fabric for a few minutes, and moved my thong aside while I sat on his lap. "Your pussy looks so pretty with your panties all pushed to the side like that," Matt complimented me in a voice that was barely above a whisper as he reached for it. When he started moving his fingers in circles skillfully around my clit, I let out a soft moan. "Oh, you're so wet, darling," Matt observed, exploring me with his hands. I loved sitting on his lap like a giddy little girl. His touch felt amazing. He slipped a finger inside of me and then another one while he looked down at my entrance, enthralled by how much wetter he was making me. "Oh, Matt," I whimpered as I started to get close. "Come on pretty girl. Cum all over my fingers," Matt smirked. I couldn't believe I was hearing these words leave Matt's mouth, but I took them as a command. I came unraveled while I sat on his knee with his fingers pumping in and out of me. I felt my body tense up and tremble for a few seconds, and then a glorious release.

"Good girl. You think I could make you cum again?" Matt cooed, licking his fingers while I tried to catch my breath, but I nodded and smiled. He lifted me up off his lap, revealing a wet spot on his pants under where I was sitting, and Matt seemed turned on by it. He sat me on the couch and got down on his knees on the floor between my legs. He pulled my panties to the side again, and I felt his hair tickle my thigh as he leaned it and attached his lips to my vulva. He teased me by kissing and licking everywhere but my clit while he looked up at me, smiling. "Please Matt," I whined, tugging at his curls, trying to bring him closer to where I wanted him to lick me, but he was doing it on purpose, making me beg for it, and he loved it. "Your pussy is so pretty up close and personal like this. Let me take my time with her," he smirked, teasing my entrance and kissing the insides of my thighs. He finally gave in after a few more minutes of my relentless pleading, manipulating my sweet spot with his tongue. He started moving it faster and more enthusiastically. It felt so good, I found myself sliding down on the couch, slowly but surely inching my pussy towards his face. He grabbed my hips and held me in place while he passionately moaned against me, sending shivers through my body. Matt was surprising me by the minute. He was certainly a jack of all trades, and I was learning I didn't even know a lot about him at all, only the parts that he wanted me to see. And the more I saw, the more I liked.

I started digging my nails into his shoulders as he continued to eat me like a mad man, running his hands and his tongue anywhere he pleased, and every time I was responsive to the way he touched me, he moved more eagerly. I was a moaning, writhing wreck under the flick of his tongue the carress of his fingers. I had never let a customer go down on me before. There were a lot of ethical boundaries I was willing to cross at this point for Matt. It just made it even hotter that we were playing into this fantasy that we didn't know each other and that he was just paying for a stripper - and at this point, basically a prostitute. I liked that Matt was paying me to eat my pussy. What a dream. And he was so wonderful at it too. Such attention to detail. So thorough. So restrained yet so urgent. I couldn't get enough of how much he wanted me.

"I'm so fucking in love with your pussy, I could eat you for hours," Matt mumbled in between licks. He closed his lips around my swollen bud and gently sucked on it until I was trembling and nearly screaming his name. "Yes, pretty girl. Make a mess on my tongue. I know you can do it," he cooed. His encouragement along with his skillful mouth had my second orgasm hitting me even harder than the first. I couldn't keep my hips from grinding against Matt's tongue while I twitched and whimpered obscenities, gripping the back of his head.

"Oh my fucking god. Where did you learn to do that?" I smiled down at him once I started to recover from my intense climax. "You're the one who basically showed me what to do with your body language. All I had to do was listen," he smirked. His answer was as hot as what he had just done to me. I liked the way Matt was in tune with my body, and the way he was trying things out to see how I'd react and then doing the things I loved over and over again. It was similar to how I behaved with my customers.

"Have you ever gone down on any other women in these clubs?" I asked him. "No, not ever. This was a first for me," he confided in me, which made me feel special. "First for me too. Guess it wouldn't hurt if we went further.." my voice started to trail off. "Say no more, princess," Matt said, finally taking the time to take off my panties instead of just moving them to the side again.

He unbuttoned his pants, pulled down his boxers, and entered me with no warning. I felt myself invite him in easily, and he started pumping in and out out of me aggressively. I loved the way he filled me and the way he spoke to me. I loved the way his lips parted to let out a stream of moans and the way he looked at me with his glazed over blue eyes, letting me know he couldn't take it much longer. His cock repeatedly hitting my pleasure spot was sending me over the edge again. I throbbed around his thickness as another wave crashed over me, and I got lost in it for a moment. All I could feel was endless pleasure, and there was a ringing in my ears that lasted for several minutes after I came. Matt loudly groaned "Oh, fuck," while he pulled out, leaving a mess on my pussy, and we both watched as his cock twitched and released his sticky white substance. He smiled down proudly and in awe of the way his ejaculate glistened on my womanhood.

He collapsed on the couch beside me after it was all over. "You're so much different at work as opposed to the shy girl I see every day," Matt nudged me. "Not shy, just keep my cards close to my chest," I corrected him. "But yeah, you're so much different as well. Who knew you could fuck like that?" I said, licking my lips, and he grinned as I complimented him.

"I've gotta go, sweetheart. The club is closing in ten minutes, and I've gotta come up with something to tell Chris and Nick about why I've been gone for several hours," he laughed. He leaned down one more time to stroke my face, and he gave me a sensual, slow, deep kiss. "Matt, seriously, come again. I loved doing business with you," I smiled up at him, not wanting him to leave. "I'll be back darling. Don't worry. I'd pay a million dollars if I had it to drown in that sweet pussy again. Just promise me, it'll be our little secret."

#sturniolo smut #sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #ᴀʀɪᴇꜱ' ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ .ᐟ ✮⋆˙#ᴍᴀᴛᴛ ᴏɴᴇ ꜱʜᴏᴛ .ᐟ ✮⋆˙

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corroded-hellfire · 8 months ago

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Hail to the Princess - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish story

Summary: Halloween is here and all of the Munson children are excited. Putting a little makeup on your husband gets you excited as well.

Note: Happy Halloween!

Warnings: pregnant!reader

Words: 3.8k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Autumn was always the best season in Indiana. There’s a chill in the air, but there’s no bitter cold. The leaves turn beautiful colors and float down gently to meet the earth. All the spiced scents and soft clothes make it such a cozy time. Not to mention…Halloween.

The spooky holiday was always a favorite in the Munson household. You can still remember the very first Halloween after you met Eddie and the boys. You dressed up as a fairy, Ryan as Scooby Doo, Luke as a pirate, and Eddie decided to be boring and not don a costume. He also wasn’t planning on wearing one tonight when he takes Luke and Eliza out.

Usually, both of you liked to go out with the kids—it was always fun to see them so excited and to check out the costumes of other trick-or-treaters darting from house to house. But this year, the end of your first trimester has you exhausted. This pregnancy seems to be making you even more tired than the first one did. Some days you barely have the energy to keep up with your rambunctious four-year-old when she gets home from school.

This year, Ryan is going to a Halloween party at one of his friend’s houses. Eddie was a little nervous when he first heard the news, but you calmed him down by reminding him that Ryan is a good kid. It’s not that Eddie doesn’t trust Ryan, though–it’s that he doesn’t trust the other kids. But he has to let his son be a teenager.

Luke’s best friend has the flu, so instead of Sean joining your kids to go around your neighborhood, it’s just going to be the brother and sister duo. Plus Eddie, of course.

Since you don’t get to go out and see Eliza and Luke in action (or Ryan, for that matter) this time around, you all decided that you will help them with any hair or makeup that needs to be done as part of their costumes.

The moment she steps foot in the house after school, Eliza wants to start getting ready. After a quick shared snack of cut up grapes and pretzels, the transformation begins.

The first step for Eliza is to take a bath and wash her hair. Your headstrong daughter told you that she wanted straight hair because she doesn’t want her crown to snag in her curls. You can’t blame her honestly—you remember the tiara debacle from her second birthday.

But to achieve your little girl’s request, you have to use a blow dryer to give her a proper blow out. You had no clue how to do this, so thank God for YouTube. You must’ve watched every tutorial you could find—which was not a lot, honestly—on blow drying a child’s spiral curls.

Surprisingly, Eliza is calm and patient while you do your best to remember advice from the videos. The four-year-old sits in a chair parked in front of your vanity as you buzz around behind her. The plethora of clips you have prepared to section off the hair lay in front of Eliza, practically begging for her to pick them up and play with them. And being four, that’s exactly what she does.

“Okay, here we go,” you say once you have every section of hair parted like you want. “Ready?”

Eliza gives you a thumbs up in the mirror, a neon green hair clip on the tip of her finger.

Drying the first few chunks of hair makes you feel a bit uncoordinated and wish you had a few more hands to help out, but once you get into the groove, you find the blowing out pretty easy. It also makes Eliza’s hair soft and silky, the strands running through your fingers like a cool breeze.

“It feels so pretty!” Eliza exclaims once you’ve finished her entire head. She laughs as she runs her fingers through her straightened hair. Neither of you have seen it this way before. Of course she looks absolutely beautiful, but you do miss her curls.

Eliza hops down from the chair and looks up at you, batting her unfairly long eyelashes.

“Now makeup?” she asks, voice syrupy sweet.

You let out a bark of laughter as you put your hair dryer away.

“Do you want your father to divorce me?” you joke.

“It’s Halloween!” Eliza argues.

“I know, I know,” you say. You’re too tired to argue with her and if Eddie wants to argue later, he can say whatever he wants to your sleeping body.

“Just a little?” Eliza holds her thumb and forefinger half an inch away from one another.

“Just a little,” you acquiesce.

You pat the seat in front of your vanity and Eliza climbs back up. She continues to admire her straight locks as you dig out your makeup bag.

“Okay,” you say as you rifle through it. A pale blush catches your eye and you scoop that out along with a coral lipstick. You’re not going to put any eye makeup on her though—you need to save your eyeliner for Luke, anyway. You hold up the two items you plucked out and show them to Eliza. “Good?”

She stretches her neck to give them the best inspection she possibly can. What she’s trying to determine, you have no idea. Eventually though, she must find it.

“Good,” she affirms with a nod of her head.

Dusting the blush on the tops of her round cheeks makes you smile. You’re having fun with this. Sure, you and girlfriends would have fun getting all dolled up when you were younger, but that doesn’t hold a candle to being able to do that with your daughter now.

“My goodness,” you say, mostly to yourself, as you finish applying the blush. “Next thing I know you’ll be going to prom.”

Eliza giggles at this.

“Mooooom! That’s Ryan!”

You smile and nod your head in concession. Ryan will be going to his junior prom this year.

“Alright,” you say to Eliza. “Put your lips like this.” You open your mouth, showing your daughter how to position herself best for you to apply lipstick. “This will probably come off when we have dinner, but we can reapply.”

Once you’re finished and capping the small golden tube of lipstick, Eliza examines herself in the mirror. Not just her straightened hair now, but her doe brown eyes study her face as well. An adorable, dimpled grin grows on her face, and it makes your heart swell.

“Do you know how beautiful you are, Eliza Marie Munson?”

You pick her up from the chair and hold her on your hip. She’s getting too old for this—plus, you probably shouldn’t be doing this since you’re pregnant—but you want to hold your baby girl.

“I don’t mean just right now. Always so beautiful,” you say. “Your smile, your eyes, your hair. Your adorable little nose that I just wanna bite.” You teasingly scrape your front teeth over the tip of her nose. She giggles and pulls her face away.

“I’m pretty like Mama,” Eliza says.

Even if you didn’t have pregnancy hormones coursing through your body, her words would have caused the same effect. Warm tears flood your eyes, and it takes maximum effort to keep them from spilling.

“Maybe I’m pretty like Eliza,” you say once you’re able to speak.

The little girl shakes her head, straight hair swaying like a sleek silk sheet in the wind.

“You were first!” she says.

“You’re such a smarty.”

“I know!”

Eliza is practically vibrating in excitement when you pull her Halloween costume out of the closet. She gasps with joy when her eyes land on the pink Sleeping Beauty dress. You slip the polyester over her head and she’s quick to pull her soft, straight hair out of the way. As soon as you have the back zipped up, the little girl starts galloping around her room.

“I’m a princess, I’m a princess!”

“We’ll save the crown for later, okay, Your Majesty?” you say as you close her closet.

“Kay!”

Eliza’s galloping turns to skipping as she goes through her bedroom door and down the hallway. There’s a smile on your face as you follow her out—walking slowly in your case, though.

“Mama? Can we watch Sleeping Beauty?” she asks once you’re in the living room with her.

“Sure thing, sweet pea.”

You pop in the DVD, then plop down on the couch, your body thankful for the rest after you’ve been so active the last hour or so with Eliza.

You’re expecting your daughter to climb up on the couch with you, but instead, she starts marching in circles between the coffee table and the television. Her costume goes schwick, schwick, schwick with every step she takes; the polyester rubbing up against itself and her short legs.

The movie opens upon the kingdom celebrating the birth of the new princess, and Eliza begins to sing along, her step never faltering.

Hail to the Princess Aurora

All of her subjects adore her

Hail to the King, hail to the Queen

Hail to the Princess Aurora

Health to the Princess

Wealth to the Princess

Long live the Princess Aurora

As the narrator comes back to speak, Eliza comes over and settles herself next to you on the worn couch. She sits on her knees, facing you. It’s silent for a minute—unusual for this household. Then, the small girl leans forward and rests one hand on your swollen belly.

“Mommy?” she asks.

“Yes, my love?” You tuck a dark strand of hair behind her ear.

“Ryan named me, right?”

“Well, he was the first one who suggested the name. Daddy and I are the ones who decided on it,” you explain.

She nods her head in understanding, the piece of hair you put behind her ear falling forward again with the motion.

“Can I sugges…uh, uhjest, zuh…”

“Suggest?” you offer kindly.

“Yeah, that. Can I suh-gest a name?” she asks.

“Go ahead, sweet pea.”

Eliza leans in closer to your belly. She rubs her small hand from side to side; it almost looks like she’s a waitress trying to wipe down a table.

“If the baby’s a girl, I think you should name her Aurora,” she declares.

You watch as Eliza stares at your bump, like if she looks hard enough, she’ll see the baby growing beneath your layers of skin and muscles. It brings a smile to your face, how much she already cares about her little sibling.

“I think that’s a beautiful name.” And you do, you’re not just patronizing her.

“Yeah?” Eliza’s head tilts up and she looks at you with wide eyes. Eyes so much like her father’s that it sometimes takes your breath away.

“Yeah,” you reply with a nod. “I’ll bring it up to Daddy.”

A proud smile grows on your daughter’s coral-painted lips. She gives one last loving pat to your belly before situating herself so she’s sitting next to you, hip to hip.

“We’re not going to know if the baby is a boy or girl until they’re born, though,” you explain before the four-year-old gets caught up in the movie again. “I have the doctors soon and they’re going to let us see a picture of the baby. But Daddy and I decided we want to be surprised.”

“Did you know me?” Eliza asks, her head tilting to the side like an inquisitive puppy.

“Yep! They told us you’re a girl and Daddy and I were so happy.”

A thoughtful hum emanates from the small girl as she turns her attention back to the movie. A minute later, she lifts your arm so she can snuggle into your side. You happily wrap your arm around her and enjoy the cuddles.

When it’s time for dinner, Eliza does not want to change out of her princess costume. So, in order to keep it stain-free through the meal, you wrap her up in her fluffy pink bathrobe. She finds this hilarious and waddles to the dinner table like a pink Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.

The moment her bottom lands in her chair, Eddie is looking at the little girl with a raised eyebrow. His gaze then shifts to you. When he pointedly looks back at Eliza, then you, you realize it’s about the makeup. But you’re going to make him say it out loud.

“What?” you ask, spearing a green bean with your fork.

“I didn’t know we had Tammy Faye coming to dinner tonight,” he says.

You roll your eyes as all three of your kids chime in with, “Who?”

“Eliza is a princess, Eddie. She deserves the royal treatment,” you say.

“Uh huh,” he hums before taking a sip of his water.

“What time is Chase’s mom picking you up tonight, Ryan?” you ask.

Your eldest wipes his mouth off with an already messy napkin before responding.

“Like, eight, I think.”

“Make sure his mom takes pictures of you all!” you add.

“Whatchu gonna be?” Eliza asks, twirling a green bean around on her fork.

“Me and my friends are going as The Beatles,” he tells her.

“You’re gonna be bugs?” Eliza’s eyes practically pop out of her tiny skull.

“No,” Ryan says with a chuckle. “The Beatles are a band.”

“Yeah, you like that one song they sing,” Luke chimes in. “Desmond takes a trolley to the jeweller's store. Buys a twenty-carat golden ring. Takes it back to Molly waiting at the door and as he gives it to her, she begins to sing!”

Eliza’s eyes light up.

“Ob-la-di, ob-la-da, life goes on, brah! La-la, how their life goes on. Ob-la-di, ob-la-da, life goes on, brah. La-la, how their life goes on!”

She wiggles in her seat as she sings, using her fork as an impromptu microphone.

“Which Beatle are you?” Luke asks.

“George,” Ryan replies.

“Aw, is that because everyone always forgets about you, too?” Luke jokes, a smirk on his face.

Ryan shoves Luke, which only makes the younger brother laugh harder.

After dinner and once you’ve reapplied Eliza’s lipstick, the little girl sits on the edge of the bathtub and watches you do Luke’s makeup. You’re no makeup artist, but you know more than the teenage boy does, so he puts his trust in you to make him look like an authentic zombie.

It mostly consists of making his face look as sickly pale as possible and contrasting that with dark eyes. You’re pretty sure you’ve put so much eyeliner on your son that it will take him all night to scrub off. Or, knowing Luke, he’ll just leave it and try to sneak out of the house like that in the morning. Somehow, you don’t think his school would appreciate that.

“Do you have any green stuff?” Luke asks as you cap the eyeliner.

“Green stuff? What do you mean? Like, eyeshadow?”

“Yeah! I wanna look kind of moldy.” His eager grin makes you chuckle as you rifle through your makeup bag.

“Eww!” Eliza wrinkles up her nose.

“Well, sorry, Your Highness.” Luke says as you pull out a palette of eyeshadow containing a forest green shade. “We zombies can’t be as clean and fancy as you princesses!”

Your four-year-old stands up and smooths out the ruffles of her skirt with an air of someone five times her age.

“Try,” is all the little girl says before walking out of the bathroom.

You and Luke look at one another before bursting into laughter.

“How do I look?” Luke slides into the room on his socked feet with his arms held out at his sides. He’s changed into a pair of jeans that incidentally are ripped almost all the way down the left side after he tore them trying to hop over a fence. Luckily, it was only a few weeks ago, so Luke knew he could keep them for this very night. On top he’s wearing an old grease and oil-stained white t-shirt that Eddie will throw on under his coveralls for work, and an old blue and green flannel of Wayne’s that he took a pair of scissors to, so it looks ripped and ragged.

“Wait, where’s your costume?” Ryan asks sarcastically, adjusting the black skinny tie he’s wearing. “I thought you were going to put on makeup?”

“Ha ha,” Luke deadpans while Eliza’s brow furrows.

“He does got makeup on,” she says.

“Ryan was just trying to be mean and say Luke looks like this all the time,” Eddie leans down to her on the couch to explain.

“Oh. Mean, Ryan!”

“Well, you look lovely, Your Majesty,” Ryan replies, bowing down before her.

The flattery clearly works with his little sister as she smiles proudly and kicks her feet excitedly.

You stroll into the room just as there’s a knock on the front door.

“That’s probably Chase,” Ryan says before heading in that direction.

“Looks good, Luke,” Eddie tells his younger son.

“I have a good makeup artist,” he replies.

“What about Daddy?” Eliza pipes up.

“What do you mean, sweet pea?” he asks her.

“You don’t got a costume or makeup.”

“I don’t need any,” Eddie tells her with a shake of his head.

“I don’t know,” you say with a shrug. “I kinda agree with her.”

Your husband cocks an eyebrow at you. “Oh?”

“Mhmm,” you hum. “Luke, can you go grab the eyeliner from my makeup bag?”

The zombie salutes you before heading back down the hall.

As you start to slowly walk towards the couch, Eddie looks at you with an unamused expression.

“Do I really need makeup, babe?” His voice is as flat as his interest.

“I guess you don’t need it,” you say, shrugging one shoulder. When you come to stand in front of him, you place one knee on each side of Eddie’s hips, straddling his lap. “I think you’d look really good in some eyeliner, though.” Your hands slip up into his hair, where you give a gentle tug. “Since I don’t get to go trick-or-treating, maybe that could be my treat tonight?”

Eddie’s look of disinterest quickly morphs into excitement.

“Whatever my princess wants,” Eddie croons.

“Uh, Daddy!” Eliza complains from the cushion next to you. “I am the princess!”

“Right,” Eddie says, turning his head to look at her. “Silly me. I forgot I have two princesses tonight.”

Ryan pops back into the room, his friend Chase right on his heels, when he sees you sitting in his dad’s lap with your hands in his hair. He automatically skids to a stop and begins to turn around.

“Nope,” he says, pushing his friend back towards the front door. “Don’t wanna be here for whatever this is. I’ll be back later!”

“Be careful,” you shout after him, while Eddie calls out, “Have fun!”

Luke returns with your eyeliner, and you happily accept it from him. Eliza stands up on the couch cushion and leans against your shoulder as you take the cap off the black pencil.

“I wanna watch,” the little princess says.

“You can be my supervisor,” you say as you adjust yourself in Eddie’s lap. “Look up,” you tell him.

Eddie lifts his chin to look at the ceiling, but you guide his head back down where it was.

“With just your eyeballs, please,” you clarify.

Following your instructions, Eddie’s eyes look skyward as you gently pull down on the lower lid of his left eye. Your hand is steady as you run the pencil back and forth against his waterline.

It’s a good thing two of your kids are in the room because, just having a little bit of eyeliner on, you’re already eager to jump your husband’s bones.

“It’s a crime you don’t wear this more,” you murmur as you move your concentration to his upper eyelid.

“Well, maybe after tonight I will,” Eddie answers in a velvety tone.

“Dad, why would you—ugh, gross.”

Eddie smirks as Luke catches on to what the two of you are alluding to. You let out a soft chuckle as you move to his other eye.

“Why don’t you have Luke put your crown on you?” You suggest to Eliza.

“Yes!”

She quickly hops off the couch and runs over to Luke, grabs his hand, and attempts to drag him down the hallway with her.

Eddie rests his hands on your hips as you finish up, rubbing his thumbs against the material of your sweatpants.

“Want me to be your rockstar tonight?” Eddie asks.

“And I will be your groupie,” you say as you pop the cap back on the pencil. Arousal kicks up in you as you take in the sight of your already-sexy husband in eyeliner. “Your groupie who will let you do whatever you want to her,” you purr.

“Happy Halloween, indeed,” Eddie says, waggling his eyebrows at you.

“You done?” Eliza asks as she bursts back into the room, her plastic golden crown perched on top of her head. “Good! Let’s go, Daddy!”

“But Mommy’s on my lap,” Eddie says.

“Mamaaaaa,” Eliza whines. “Get up!”

“Excuse me?” you ask, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Please,” she adds softly.

“Yeah. Please,” Luke adds as he follows his little sister back in the room.

Both you and Eddie chuckle as you slide off his lap. You press a kiss to his lips.

“Alright, you guys,” you say to all three of them, “be safe and have a good time.”

“We will!” Eliza assures you.

She picks up her pink pumpkin bucket from the coffee table and hands her older brother his blue one.

“Let’s go!”

You, Eddie, and Luke watch as the little girl marches towards the front door in her pink princess dress.

“I guess we’re going,” Luke says as he follows after her.

Eddie presses one last kiss to your lips.

“Maybe I’ll be wearing something different when you get home,” you tease. “Something…lacier, perhaps.”

Eddie groans and drops his head back.

“I’m about to make these kids get their candy in record time,” he says.

You giggle and shove him towards the front door.

“Alright, Mr. Rockstar. Go have fun.”

“Love you, baby.”

“Love you, too.”

Once the door closes behind the three of them, you let out a deep sigh and grab a handful of candy from the bowl that’s prepared for the trick-or-treaters.

“How about it?” you ask your baby, looking down at your stomach. “We deserve some candy too, right? Right.”

The small batch of fun-sized candy bars fall into your lap as you plop down on the couch and grab the remote.

“Ooh, Beetlejuice,” you say as you come upon a channel playing the movie. “You’re in for a treat, kiddo. This is a good one.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #older!eddie #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #AYW #AYWS

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strwberri-milk · 3 months ago

Note

Can I ask how the original trio in LADS would respond to a reader who's burnt out? Like used to be overachieving, ambitious and hardworking but now has no energy to care about any goals, short or longterm?

feel free to look here and here as well!

Zayne doesn't burn out but he does understand the concept and has witnessed his colleagues go through the same struggle. When he notices that you're starting to show symptoms and not seeming to care as much as you used to about things that were important to you he'll sit you down to talk.

He listens without judgement, asking if there's anything you want him to do or anything you can point at as being the cause for your burnout. Even if you can't, he'll simply suggest you just take some time off. If you can take time off work or just stop working as hard if possible. He will push for you to take some time off though so you can focus on just being at home and doing whatever it is you want to, or become more invested in your studies to try and guide you through things.

He'll aim to try and help you at least gain some sort of control over your life again. Seeing you listless and just exhausted isn't fun for him. He'll support you if you decide to do a complete 180, changing paths to something that you think you'll like more, or just supporting you as you rot a bit and come out of your funk.

Xavier is a great partner to have if you just want to rot around. He'll come home and just lay with you. He doesn't demand anything of you but he will slowly work his way before trying to figure out what's wrong with you. He knows that you used to be a lot more passionate and seeing you so despondent just doesn't really feel like you. He'll be worried that something happened but when you just tell him you feel burned out he'll nod along and support you however you need him to.

He'll help you get back to at least being not burnt out, giving you some sort of motivation to get to a point where you're more comfortable doing things again. He also doesn't really care what that looks like - as long as you're happy, that's all that matters.

Rafayel burns out constantly after completing giant projects so if it gets timed so that you're both burnt out nothing really happens at home. You two just kinda lay together, not really wanting to do much until one of you snaps out of your stupor. Rafayel typically just goes shopping until he feels better or gets inspiration back so his cycle is a lot quicker than yours might be.

He'll also give you his best tips and tricks of getting out of a funk, and honestly he might just tell you to directly quit your job if you don't like it and just live off of him, no strings attached. He adores you and he'd be more than happy to take care of you if you'd like. He wants you to find something you enjoy doing at least, not necessarily a passion so your days don't just blend into a bland nothingness. He'd love to take you out and just do random things to help with that when he doesn't feel like a pile of slop, at least making your days more entertaining until you find something you enjoy doing again/find a passion.

#love and deepspace x reader #lads x reader #l&ds x reader #l&ds zayne x reader #lads zayne x reader #zayne x reader #l&ds xavier x reader #lads xavier x reader #xavier x reader #l&ds rafayel x reader #lads rafayel x reader #rafayel x reader

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ohimsummer · 1 year ago

Note

Uh- Gojo is a dom in canon. It’s show in the manga and anime and gege said he had a canon god complex.

“f-fu—, ah!” your boyfriend cries into a drool-soaked pillow, stuffing his face in it to hide from your endless giggling.

“is this too much for you, satoru?” your tone is evil and mischievous. it’s obvious you’re having wayyyy too much fun here. “just do what you tell me all the time and take it. take my dick like a good slut.”

at this point, he can only answer in grunts and moans, eyes clenched beneath furrowed brows as you pound deep into his ass. it’s sore and bruised, imprinted with layers of your red handprints and the occasional bite mark. maybe you went a little feral when he agreed to let you fuck his ass…whatever, it’s his fault for being so annoying about it,

“try not to go at a snail’s pace”, satoru teases, giving his ass a cheeky wiggle against your rubber appendage. “you don’t have to go too easy on me. i can take whatever you can give, pretty girl.”

you glide slippery lube up and down the the fake dick strapped to your pelvis. “you better, because i didn’t intend on it.”

the lack of reaction from you somewhat intrigues gojo, but he assumes you’re putting on a confident facade in front of him. just wait, once you actually get ready to put it in, you’ll be all hesitant and nervous and begging him to help poor little you.

“wait, ‘s too—,” a pathetic whimper leaves satoru’s plump lips, decorated with teeth indentations. “it’s too much, fuck, sl-slow down—“

“slow downnn??”, you feign utter shock, the hand pumping his leaking dick picking up pace. “satoru! don’t tell me the strongest can’t handle it? i thought you told me not to go at a snail’s pace?”

he huffs, using whatever energy he has left to direct glaring, teary blue eyes at you. “i-i did, but—“

“but what, sweetheart?” you spot the wobble of his pouty lips, entire face tinted a bright red hue. you’re pulling out all his own teases and tricks, all the mockery satoru makes you endure when it’s you getting fucked into the mattress.

“nothing.” he grunts it stubbornly into the pillow, facing away to keep whatever’s left of his pride.

“ohhh, so now it’s nothing?” his length twitches in your palm. “that’s so good to hear, baby. it’d be a shame if all that talk you were doing beforehand was just a bunch of lies.”

you can feel satoru throbbing in your hand again, and you know he’s close. another smack to his behind pushes a high-pitched moan from his lips.

“i wa-wanna cum.”, he says, turning slightly to look at you.

“oh?”, you thumb over the dribbling tip of his cock. “are you asking or are you telling me?”

“asking—!”, satoru whines. he fucks wildly into the palm of your hand. “please! please let me cum!”

this must be how he feels when he watches you writhing and squirming beneath him any other night. this towering sense of pride and accomplishment and smugness.

“since you beg so nicely,” you indulge him, “go on, then. make a mess for me, pretty boy.”

and he does. satoru gives a few more weak thrusts before letting out a deafening moan, and hot, thick ropes of his seed come shooting out—it’s a lot, enough to coat both your hand and his stomach and leak down to the sheets below.

“empty?”, you ask, and satoru gives a weak shake of his head. “good! now let’s go again.”

#⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ summy is thinking . . . ｡⋆#thanks for the writing motivation anon :3 gtg I’m giving satoru aftercare #.𖥔 summy answerz .ᐟ ๋࣭ ⭑#anon! ‎♡‧₊˚#gojo x reader drabble #gojo smut #gojo imagine #gojo satoru imagine #gojo x reader smut

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daaawnnn · 2 years ago

Text

ice skating

skz scenario: going ice skating together for the first time

pairing: bf!skz x gn!reader

warnings: none

BANG CHAN

he'd be an absolute sweetheart if you didn't know how to skate. he'd hold your hand whilst you're skating together and give you tips on how to skate more smoothly so you're not tumbling every 5 seconds. once he sees that you're doing well, he'd let go of your hand and observes if you can manage by yourself. he'd stay close by, ready to catch you, if you were on the verge of slipping. his eyes would light up once he sees that you can do well on your own. your reward from chan would consist of a tight hug and a chaste kiss to your lips.

LEE KNOW

i’d like to think that minho is decent at ice skating. he’d attempt to teach you the basics on how to ice skate. emphasis on attempt. he would try to skate alongside you but make the mistake of slipping every now and then. he would purposely drag you down with him, although he’d cushion your landing, as he didn’t want to be the only one falling over. if you could balance and skate for a few seconds, he’d praise you. if you fell, the first thing he’d do is laugh then he would help you up. he’d probably take a picture of you on the floor and put it as his lock screen to reminisce about it later on. if the landing was harsh though, he’d check up on you instantly and make sure you’re not injured.

CHANGBIN

changbin is just happy to be there even though he doesn't know how to ice skate. he had initially planned to watch you from the sidelines but you persuaded him to join you on the rink. this man would be clinging onto you for dear life since he didn't want to fall and make a fool of himself in front you. his arms are fully engulfing you, he's not even skating anymore, you're just carrying him around the rink. swears he's never going to ice skate ever again (but he would still do it for you.)

HYUNJIN

since both of you are good at ice skating, you two would try to make it into a competition. objective: skate around the rink the quickest. whoever loses, has to pay for the meal after. since hyunjin doesn’t really mind paying, he would try to purposely lose. but, once you catch on, you’d slow down and move about even slower than he does as you also don’t mind paying. now, it turned into who could skate more slower. you’re both complaining to each other to move faster, but not doing anything about it. once you’re both tired of this back and forth, you collectively agree to skate around the rink together, holding hands. hyunjin and you decided to settle who pays for the meal with a classic game of rock, paper, scissors. turns pouty once he realises you’d be paying, but doesn’t argue about the decision.

HAN

going ice skating with han is like a recipe for disaster. he swears he’s an expert at it, BUT as soon as he gets on the rink, he’ll slip right then and there. both of you will be tumbling down together A LOT. literally as soon as you try to get up, han would accidentally knock you back down because he lost his balance. overall, the session would be filled with laughter and you guys arguing about who the better ice skater is (even though you’re both equally bad.)

FELIX

he'd say he's bad but would be pulling up all types of tricks once he's on that rink. you swear you've never seen anything as beautiful as your boyfriend in that moment. the way he manoeuvred around the rink with grace would forever be engraved in your mind. he'd be your personal guide on how to ice skate. he's holding your hands whilst skating with you. he doesn't even need to look behind him to see if he's going to bump into someone. he'd be all giggly when you nearly fall over onto him and he'd kiss your forehead, telling you it's okay before helping you again.

SEUNGMIN

he’s out here catching all your worst moments on the rink, ready to make fun of you for them later. karma got him though. you were trying to take a video of the view of the rink, when you accidentally recorded him tripping over a kid which caused him to land on his butt. as soon as he spotted the camera, his cheeks turned red. he’d be rushing over to you and smothering your face in kisses with a smile on his face, bribing you to delete that video of him. but you knew better than to do that. it was a cute little video of him and you were planning on treasuring it.

JEONGIN

jeongin had always wanted to go ice skating with you. so, when you surprised him for a date by taking him to an ice skating rink, he was over the moon. he’d kiss you the second he realised where he was. he was so smiley the entire time. his excitement was contagious. he’d drag you around the entire rink and gush over how much he loves you for this. your heart swells with love at his enthusiasm. a literal necessity to take pictures of him here for him to post on social media. and a few candid photos of him to keep for yourself.

©daaawnnn

reblogs are appreciated!

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lis-likes-fics · 1 year ago

Text

Pancakes, Bottle Tops, and Jell-O on the Side

Pairings: Spencer Reid x bau!adhd!Reader Word Count: 3.5k words Warnings: Character with ADHD, fluff :) A/N: This was supposed to be a drabble....so... I am going to go ahead and continue the bau!adhd!reader stuff because I think it's a lot of fun! ANyway, thank you and enjoy. Special thanks to my beta reader @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen

“Spence.”

His lazy hum rumbles under you as you lay on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as you both lay wrapped in the covers. It's late, a glance at the clock says nearly one in the morning.

You cross your arms over his chest, leaning up to look at his face. He looks peaceful, not sleeping but closed-eyed and slow-breathed. “I'm hungry.”

He smiles, but his eyes stay closed. “It's too late to eat.”

You shrug lazily, drawing circles on his chest. “But I want pancakes.”

He opens his eyes. “You know,” Spencer sits up, laying back against the headboard, “late night snacking is bad for digestion.”

You hum. “Is it?”

He nods. “Your metabolism slows while you sleep, so it's harder for your stomach acids to break down the food.” He presses his lips to your forehead. “Eating late at night can lead to weight gain and interrupted sleep.”

“Really?”

His hand rubs your arm. “If you need to eat close to bedtime, it's best to choose small, healthy snacks so you sleep better.”

You sit up, crossing your legs as you look at him. You set a hand on his hand, looking him straight in the eyes as you say it. “But I want pancakes.”

He laughs lightly. “Sweetheart–”

“What if we put chocolate chips in them?”

You know you’ve piqued his attention. He glances at you, his brows raised to his hairline. “Chocolate chips?” he mutters.

You almost feel bad for tricking him, but he’s too cute for that. Your smile grows as your second hand envelopes his own until you’re holding it like you’re keeping it warm. “Yeah,” you nod. “We can even eat it with Jell-O. Not, like, Jell-O on it. But, like, Jell-O on the side.” You clear your throat. “But we can also have Jell-O.”

He gives you an almost pained expression, like you’re gonna pull his arm off. “You know I love Jell-O.”

You smile your best smile. “I know, that’s why I said it.” Then you give your best pout, scooting closer to him with his hand in your hands. “Pancakes and Jell-O? Please?”

There’s a short pause as he lays his head back, sighing as he shakes his head. “You’re impossible to say no to, you know that?”

“Yay!” You erupt in smiles, pumping your fist in the air as you stumble out of the bed (and you quite literally stumble because your foot gets caught in the covers, and you fall to the floor with a thud). Spencer almost feels guilty for laughing as he asks if you’re okay, but you almost seem like you’ve hardly noticed when you get to your feet and rush to the kitchen. He takes his time following after you, but he’s becoming more and more excited about eating chocolate chip pancakes and strawberry Jell-O with you with each step he takes.

You’ve already beaten him to starting a CD, something from Mozart’s collection playing in the background as you try to reach the pancake mix from the top shelf. You’re almost certain he puts things there on purpose, especially when he comes up behind you with a hand on your hip as he easily reaches for the box and sets it next to you on the counter.

You turn to look at him, nearly swooning at the sight of him so close to you, his stupid pretty eyes and his stupid pretty face just waiting to be covered in your kisses. You settle for a peck on his chin, teasing him, before stepping around him to grab the box. He snatches it before you can, and you would pout if you didn’t know that’s what he wanted. Taking your chin between two gentle fingers, he places a very loving kiss on the very tip of your nose before he’s walking away to grab the pan. You settle for everything else, grabbing the milk and the water and the butter and the chips and whatever else is needed for your late-night snack.

As Spencer replaces the butter on the butter dish, he watches you out of the corner of his eye. He watches you pour the milk into a measuring cup half full of water, your other hand busy with tapping the counter three times. When you set the milk back down, you don’t move on until you’ve grabbed the handle with the opposite hand and let the other tap the counter three more times. You rub the condensation into your hands.

“They need to be equal, or it feels weird,” you’d said. He thinks you’re really cool.

When he’s flipping the pancakes, you’re gliding on your feet through the kitchen like you’re a ballerina. It’s as simple as you trying to stand on the very tips of your toes, and then him grabbing your waist to help you. He laughs every time you step on his feet, which makes you feel better about stepping on his feet so much.

And then when the pancakes are done, you’re waltzing with him between bites. He’s weirdly good at it, given the fact that he’s not a good dancer (neither of you are that great on your feet, but it doesn’t matter when it’s just slow dancing in the kitchen). You laugh every time he steps on your feet, which makes him feel better about stepping on your feet so much.

“Should we like…” you trail off, leaning over your plate next to Spencer’s, “...do some jumping jacks after?” You take a bite, speaking as you chew on it. “It’ll burn some of the calories, and then it won’t be so bad.”

Spencer’s smile is one of those ones that makes you feel that stereotypical “warm and tingly” feeling that settles in your stomach somewhere. It’s fond and sweet, and his eyes glitter with it. He chuckles lightly. “Maybe.” To the jumping jacks. He doesn’t much like jumping jacks.

“And then we’ll also be tired, and we can just go to sleep.”

He hums. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t need jumping jacks to make me sleepy.”

You sift through the last couple of bites left of your pancakes, turning your nose up. He can already tell that you’ve suddenly grown sick of it. There’s no way you’re eating the last two pieces. You set your fork down, gesturing to your head. “My mind is fast right now, so I may need a few.” You glance away, “On the other hand, that might make it worse…” Then you look at him. “I’m keeping you up late, I’m sorry.”

It’s almost two in the morning, and you both still have work in a few hours.

But he just smiles, loving as usual. “Sweetheart, we’re usually up late anyway on cases. You don’t have to apologize.”

You reach over, nudging his fingers with yours on the counter. “I feel like I do.” You tap your untouched fingers with his untouched fingers. They need to be even, otherwise it feels weird.

Spencer reaches over and locks your fingers together. “I promise you, I would’ve been awake anyway.” Meaning he was not going to sleep until he knew you were asleep to make sure you actually got some sleep.

“That doesn’t make me feel better.” You raise a hand to his cheek, your fingertips brushing over them and adoring the way they turn the slightest pink. “You need rest.”

“So do you,” he mumbles. “We’re staying awake together.”

There are nights where he pretends to be asleep to get you to rest. Tonight was one of those nights but when you say his name so sweetly, he has no choice but to reply.

And also, you’re a profiler. You know when he is or isn’t sleeping, you just pretend you don’t.

“Do you wanna do jumping jacks?” he suggests, gathering your plates while you’re distracted with the strands of hair misbehaving on his forehead, out of place from the rest.

“Maybe a few,” you hum.

He straightens his posture, stuffing his last bite in his mouth. “I’m going to make you some chamomile.” He already has the kettle in his hands, filling it with water to set to boil. “We can do some jumping jacks while we wait for the water to boil.”

You smile sweetly. He takes such good care of you, especially when he reaches his hand out and cups your chin so gently. “Thank you, honey,” you say as you slowly slip the plates into your hands. “I’ll get the dishes.”

He reaches for them, but you pull them closer to you, like a dragon hoarding its treasures—which is a strange simile, considering you’re talking about dirty dishes covered in his DNA. “I can do them,” he tries.

“I know you can,” you have to dance around him to get past him and to the sink. He turns the heat all the way up and leaves it, holding his hands out for the plates. You slap his hand away lightly, a teasing little swipe as you shake your head. “But I want to.”

He tilts his head, his confusion contaminated by his amused grin. “You hate doing the dishes.”

More than anything. “Yeah,” you agree, “but you’re being so nice.” You set the dishes by the sink and turn to look up at him. He’s freakishly tall, so you have to crane your neck up to see him because he stands so close. He has no sense of personal space with you, but you don’t mind it because you love him and you also don’t give him any personal space in return. “So either I fight you or you let me do the dishes.”

He sighs. “Okay, you wash and I’ll dry and put away.”

You stick your hand out to make it official. “Deal.”

“Great.” He takes your hand, surprising you when he twirls you in a clumsy circle and pulls you into his chest as you both giggle. It’s sappy and gross, like those scenes in rom-coms where they’re doing this exact thing: dancing around the kitchen late at night while they giggle like school kids because they’re so in love. You’ve always wanted this for yourself, and you’re beyond happy that you’ve found it with your Spencer.

“Thank you,” you say as you duck under his arm, taking your place at the sink as you start the water. Neither of you talk much as you scrub all the dirty dishes clean, your face scrunched in your focus, un-scrunching only when the water rinses away the suds you’ve built up on your dish. He takes it with eager hands, wiping the dish clean and retreating to put it away.

“You know,” you mutter, frowning at the way the pancake batter mixes with the water and sinks down the drain, “the jumping jacks before bed will be really good because, when we sleep after, our muscles will recover and get really strong.”

He nods, wiping at your elbow when it brushes the edge of the sink and you squirm away from the cold metal. It’s thoughtful, though it’s such a subconscious movement. “That’s correct.”

You shrug a shoulder, teasing easily. “I’m often correct.”

He laughs. It’s a big one that ruins your stoic expression. “That is also correct.” He’s proving your point, and he doesn’t mind doing it.

When the dishes are clean and put away, the kettle is whistling in perfect time as he removes it from the heat. You’re already scurrying to the cabinet to pick which mug you want to use (he already knows you’re going to pick the blue round Christmas Snoopy mug that curves in at the lip). It’s one of your favorites, like a mug-bowl hybrid that you love to cradle in your hands, especially when it’s warm.

He takes special care in making your tea while you sit on the counter next to him and watch. Your feet dangle over the edge, and you find yourself watching his face more than what he’s actually doing. He’s got eyebags. You can tell how tired he is, though he insists that he’s just always had them.

It’s partially true, anyway. When you first met him, he had those same dark circles around his eyes that gave a warning to how irregular these hours would be.

Other than his eyebags, he’s got a loving look on his face. It’s not forlorn and lost in sweet little smiles, but it’s thoughtful and content and at peace. He’s happy to stand there and make your tea, stirring the contents together with the little spoon because he knows you hate using the big ones. He’s happy to fish a single ice cube from the freezer to plop into your scalding tea so that you can actually drink it and not burn your tongue. He’s happy to hand over your mug and watch you take a tiny sip, closing your eyes and humming and giving him your softest thank you as you practically melt. He preens under your praise.

After a couple more sips, you’re pushing yourself off the counter and onto the floor, doing ridiculous stretches as you beam at him. “Okay, ready?”

Spencer lets out a huge sigh, bending down to set his hands on his knees. “Give me a second to catch up,” he says, already out of breath.

You furrow your brow and laugh. “We haven’t even started.”

“I mean mentally.”

“Spence!”

“Okay,” he straightens his posture, moving you both to a more open space as he stops in front of you. “I’m ready.”

You smile wide, “We’re going to fifty.”

“Fifty?!” he exclaims, but you’ve already started. He has to do the first five jumping jacks really fast just to catch up to you. But he’s in love with you, so he’s dedicated to these curséd things.

It’s somewhere before twenty when he speaks, already out of breath and lagging behind as his hands struggle to come as far up. You know he’s partially exaggerating, but you’re also getting tired already. “You know…” he gasps like he desperately needs water, “I hate…” another gasp, “doing these.”

You roll your eyes, tired but not as dramatic as him (currently). “I watched you chase an unsub down three blocks before and then proceed to tackle him, and you can’t do a few jumping jacks?” You don’t know where you are in the count. You forgot as soon as you started speaking, but you think you’re somewhere near thirty.

“Okay, that’s different…” He stops huffing and puffing, but he is genuinely getting tired as he breathes between words. “I was running on adrenaline…” a breath, “and I couldn’t stand straight for…” another breath, “for ten minutes after.”

It’s true. You had to hold his hand because he kept complaining that he was going to pass out, when really he was just trying to make you feel better because you had been so worried he would get hurt in pursuit. You’d been all over him worried sick, loving hands to his face and soft kisses to his forehead.

“I was so proud of you though.” You would shrug if you weren’t already busy. “Derek was impressed. Also, I don’t know where we are.”

He could have lied and said you were on 49, but he decides against it purely because you genuinely look like you’re enjoying yourself. Plus, you’re smiling. How is he possibly supposed to think straight if you’re smiling?

“38.”

You grumble but you stick it out together. And when the last counts come out (“47, 48, 49, 50!”), you are the one to huff and puff and say, “Oh, thank god.”

Spencer leans forward on the counter, gripping the edge of it as he bends all the way down to catch his breath. You skip that altogether, climbing on top of it and laying on it like a couch. You drape an arm over your face, completely limp and entirely unwilling to stand. “I hate jumping jacks,” you complain on a heavy breath.

He nods lazily. “I’m glad we agree.”

You both stay there for a while, two pathetic FBI agents who are far more capable of even more physical exertion than this has offered. Derek would tsk if he was here.

Spencer recovers first, but only because you allow him to (you don’t want to move yet, and if you act long enough then he might actually carry you to bed). He runs a hand through his hair, “I’ll put your shark in the microwave.”

This makes you forget that you’re pretending to be completely incapacitated. The shark in question is a small heatable stuffed animal named Nadia that smells like lavender. During your month-long hyperfixation on sharks, Spencer bought it for you as a gift because he thought you’d like it. He was right, as Nadia sleeps in bed with the two of you now on most nights.

You sit up, raising a slow hand in his direction as you fawn over him. “Thank you, honey.” He lets you take his hand, pulling him in to kiss him gently.

You and Spencer have been together for a while, and you’ve been saying “I love you”s for a good amount of time, but Spencer has yet to (and will likely never) master the art of casualty when it comes to telling you he loves you. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to give you a brief call over his shoulder, or a passing kiss on the forehead as he mumbles it into the side of your head.

He says it in an in-your-face kind of way that you adore. He stands so close, kissing your forehead and your lips, and really any part of your face that suits him as he grins. “I love you.” He takes care in whispering it against your lips, your mouths touching with each consonant.

You hum. “Love you, too.” His hands rub your palms, and he kisses your lips again before reluctantly pulling away to go retrieve your shark. You smile as you watch him leave, grabbing your mug and cradling it in your hands as you take small sips. You do feel tired, so at least everything is working.

Spencer is holding Nadia in his hands like a baby before he sets it in the microwave, the both of you standing side to side, bodies touching, as you watch it spin around and around and around in very slow circles. You rest your head on his shoulder while you watch. He’s afraid to move and scare you away (like he could ever scare you away).

Before the microwave can beep, you open the door. He grabs the shark from where it sat, handing it to you like sacred text. “Good?” he asks, waiting as you take the weighted stuffed animal in your hands and feel its warmth. It’s very nice.

“Perfect.”

That makes him happy.

With an arm around your shoulder, he takes you both to bed, turning off the lights as he goes. Taking one last generous sip from your tea, you snuggle in the bed next to him, and as grabby as you are, he's the one holding you like he's going to make sure you never leave.

You hold your warmed plush to your chest, letting out a long breath as you rest against Spencer. “What do you wanna hear?” he asks, already flipping through his mind palace to unlock all the stuff he knows just to lull you to sleep.

You've always insisted hearing the sound of his voice helps you sleep (in a good way, not in the “listening to you speak is a snooze fest” kind of way). He knows there's a study on it, it's scientific, but there's always going to be the tiniest part of him that doesn't believe you (though he'll entertain the idea because he loves you).

“Um…” you wonder, your mind suddenly going blank as you try to find something for him to talk about. “Give me the history of…” you shake your head, “bottle tops.”

He furrows his brow, though his grin betrays him (as per usual). “Bottle tops?”

“Yeah?”

“Why bottle tops?”

You shrug, closing your eyes and letting your finger rub into his shirt. “I don't know.”

He shakes his head like he's sick of you, though he could never be sick of you. He's surely sick with you with how dizzy you make him every time he sees you. “Okay then…” he mumbles, wondering where to start. He keeps his voice soft, but he can't seem to keep it slow.

“The crown bottle cap was invented in 1892 by William Painter–”

“Why do you know about this?”

It was partially a challenge, choosing bottle tops. Sometimes you name random things just to see if he actually knows these things, and he surprises you every time with information he's a total nerd for knowing.

He tilts his head, glancing at you. “Why do you know so much about sharks?”

You hum, laying back down. “Touché.”

He smiles. You feel his thumb stroke your shoulder, a slow and steady thing that easily makes you putty in his arms. “As I was saying,” he says, all sass but also too much of a dork to work, “the name ‘crown’ was chosen because the cap resembled the crown of the British queen…”

It doesn't take long to drift off as he speaks, his loving hands and loving voice and loving lips the perfect remedy for your overactive mind. You could listen to him talk all day.

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

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #reader insert #female reader #adhd!reader #spencer reid x reader fluff

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narfin-frood · 6 months ago

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Hi! I'm a big fan of your art, and I just wanted to know, did you study the WOY art style? I'm asking because the way you draw each character, Hater especially, is so expressive! Do you have any tips with expressions? Thank you!

thank you so much!! and to kinda answer your question: while what i do is, technically, studying, that's not what it feels like. i genuinely just enjoy looking at character sheets. a lot of the time they'll include little notes about things you wouldn't think about unless you're told to, like wander's eyes typically angling towards each other at the bottom or sylvia's eyes obscuring the full width of her neck.

(i have any one of these open in my reference panel almost always! not only are these full of tips & tricks for your everyday sketching, they're full of rules for each character, which are meant to be broken in interesting and fun ways.)

[im gonna pack a bunch of other, tangentially related tips and tricks and thoughts into the readmore, including my personal breakdown of hater's expressions specifically, so feel free to give it a click. long post ahead]

a lot of stuff can be picked up by just watching the cartoon as many times as you want. i have watched every episode (minus big fucking baby episode, which i hate) like 6 times over, sometimes more (looking at you the rager), and that has definitely solidified my wander over yonder visual library.

also, wander over yonder's art style already fits in with the way i draw, because i LOVEE long curvy lines and super crisp & clear silhouettes!!

as for why/how i get hater so expressive.... that mainly has to do with the fact that i think he's So Cute. He's So Cute and i wanna Squash Him. and his character design reflects that!!!

his hood is his eyebrow and his eyes may or may not be rolling around in their sockets, and his nose is a little upside down heart. but all of the lord hater emotion is stored in the chin. lord hater has a bunch of specific and VERY malleable options for mouth shapes, depending on what makes the expression and lipsync look clearest.

you can keep it super simple, with a clear divide between his top and bottom jaw, and do several round bumps for teeth, which they do a lot when tweening, like this:

this kind of seems to be his default state, depending heavily on the episode and when it was made and who was drawing him the most, of course.

you can also keep his jaw and skull distinct, but keep his teeth straight and flush with each other, which helps for sharper expressions, esp. anger or frustration, but can also work for a good "squee". he also sometimes pouts so hard his chin eats his mouth, which is, again, cute.

if you're having trouble keeping an expression clear while also maintaining the distinction between his jaw and the rest of his skull, it's pretty common also to forego most of the overt skeleton bits, save for a few hatch marks to indicate teeth (sometimes squiggles or bumps, when he's yelling about it). in my head i affectionately refer to this style of hater expression as the "peanut sans"

none of these convey the intensity of emotion you're looking for? fear not, you can also always just go Full Skeleting. and give his teeth a full outline. this is great for Pain and Strain and Nefariousness.

and then there are a million expressions in between and possibilities within these parameters beyond your wildest belief. nothing should hold you back from a really fucked-up lord hater expression. not proportion. not structure. ESPECIALLY not symmetry. please. make his chin bigger. make his head bigger. make one eye bigger. make him look in two different directions. scrunch his nose up. whatever it takes. by all means. i implore you to have fun

(honorable mention. his W face. the face when he says the consonant W. sometimes OO. i'm. obsessed. with it . he looks. kity)

anyway. lord hater tangent aside. i could also share my own process for expressions, but it really just hinges on what looks appealing/what i like the most/what communicates the emotion i want to communicate the clearest, and it varies between characters and people.

it helps to, again, build your visual library, and look at lots and lots of funny faces, both in real life and in cartoons you like. make funny faces in the mirror and try to focus on what parts of your face change shape or interact with other parts of your face when you do something like smile really wide or drop your jaw. your skin is taut, and there's a bunch of muscle and fat attached to your bones, so when one big bone moves, a bunch of muscles and fat under the surface will shift around too, and understanding that relationship is really helpful in the long run, both for drawing real people and for drawing cartoons.

and the easiest way to retain information like that is to have fun while you study. stop thinking of it as studying and start thinking of it as gathering information on this thing you like a lot and want to do more of, like when you scroll through someone's account to look at all their art, and just. do more of that. do more exploring and observing. since animation is my special interest, this part is pretty easy for me, but it does still take practice to get into that mindset, especially when you convince yourself you have to be super strict and rigid to make it in the art world. focus on drawing and observing what makes YOU happy first, and everything else will follow.

and don't worry about taking notes. don't worry about remembering everything you look at. just look at things you like, and think about them for longer than you usually would. think about the shapes and colors. what makes that drawing so darn appealing to you, besides subject matter and the vague concept of an "artstyle"? you'll be surprised just how abstract what appeals to you can be. for me, with expressions especially, it comes down to random shit like "i like when the edge of a character's mouth creates a tangent with the outline of their head" instead of "pretty eyes" or other, vaguer elements. and that shit i like becomes a part of my artstyle, but only when it fits in and looks appealing, because you can't do stuff like this in every single drawing & retain a full range of expression

ANYway. i hope this made some sense/helped at least a little. i like lord hater a lot. and i also like to draw

#ask #rambling #wander over yonder #lord hater #myart

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thewritetofreespeech · 2 months ago

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Could I request GoM with a very tidy s/o?

Akashi appreciates it. Although he has maids & servants to clean up after him, Akashi is very near and put together in his personal life. Order is all. He wouldn’t like being with someone who wasn’t tidy as it reflects poorly on him.

Aomine hates it. They are always getting on him about cleaning up and being neater. Can’t he just be himself! At first it was nice to have someone pick up after him, but now he just feels guilty and snaps when they start picking up his room or locker and helps out.

Kise appreciates it. He’s not the neatest person, but he’s pretty tidy. Especially in his appearance. He is always happy to lend a hand when they are cleaning up. Plus, it’s nice to spend time together.

Kuroko doesn’t really have an opinion on it. He supposes it’s a good thing. Messy people tend to lose things or not be taken seriously. He doesn’t think he would like spending time in their room if it was messy, but he guesses he’ll never know.

Midorima likes that they are tidy as he is as well. Being neat and orderly is best for efficiency, so he is also petty tidy. He is happy to help when they are cleaning, and offers a lot of tips & tricks to be better at certain things. Cleaning through the chaos gives him peace.

Murasakibara isn’t very tidy, so it clashes with a tidy partner. He doesn’t think he’s a slob, but everyone else does. He just doesn’t see the point in straightening things if you’re just going to mess them up again. It annoys him when they clean up after him though. He isn’t a child. He can do it, he just chooses not to.

+Kagami is pretty tidy, as you can see from his house. He takes care of it all on his own and makes sure everything is neat. He likes that his partner is also on the same page with this, and would even offer to help. Work shared is work halved, after all. And after they are done cleaning the house or doing chores, there’s more time for basketball or doing other fun things!

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hughiecampbelle · 29 days ago

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Thunderbolts Preference: Helping Clean Your Depression Room

A/N: My depression room was a huge disaster and it made me think of the New Avengers seeing this and waiting to help in whatever way they could :) Silly, but I hope you like it!! 🖤

thunderbolts requests are open

Bucky is used to people asking him to clean up their messes. Usually they're a lot bigger, scarier, and usually involve mortal danger. When you sheepishly asked him for help, he went into action mode. What did you need? Weapons, of course. Guns, grenades, knives. Who would he have to contact? Valentine, probably. Who else? What about the rest of the team? When you clarify that it's just your room, he relaxes, laughing at himself. Force of habit. You try to explain just how bad it really is, warning him, but when he sees it he's not phased at all. He doesn't judge or joke, he gets this serious look on his face when he's focused. Lightly he'll tread, asking you how you've been feeling, everyone knowing you were going through an episode. You tell him the truth, knowing he'd know if you were lying. Together you clean and vacuum and dust. He washes all your blankets and sheets so that your bed is extra cozy. He smiles when he tells you that was the easiest mission he'd ever been on, reminding you you can ask him for help with anything and he'll be there.

Alexei makes zero judgments. Before the New Avengers, his apartment was a disaster. He was insecure showing Yelena, having her over, having anyone over. When he looks at your mess, your depression room, he isn't ashamed of you, he doesn't get embarrassed, he looks at it and he recognizes it. Early on you see how helpful he'll actually be: more so than you originally thought, but not as much as the others. He likes things he can put away. Plates, bowls, cups. He washes them by hand as he tells "fun" stories of being the Red Guardian, raising his daughters, etc. Something about him feels familiar, paternal, a feeling you've been missing. You listen, ask questions, and sort through your things. He gets sidetracked by photos of loved ones, sitting on your bed and going through them. You apologize afterwards, hating that he's wasted his day cleaning your room, but he doesn't mind at all, telling you it was actually very fun. Next time, he'll bring the vodka.

Yelena tackles this head on. She doesn't take no for an answer. You were too ashamed to ask her for help, instead trying to take care of it by yourself. The first day wasn't so bad, but after you were so tired, so overwhelmed, you broke down in front of her. She shows up at your door with a trash bag and a vacuum cleaner. You try to tell her you've got it covered, but she barges in regardless, taking charge. Yelena gets it. Her apartment was sort of falling apart. She knows you've been feeling depressed lately. Doing anything in that state feels impossible, crushing even. You wanting to take care of it is a good sign. She doesn't mean to, but she reminisces about sharing a room with Tasha. How messy it could get, how their mother made them clean it until it was spotless, just for it to be messed up by a pillow fort or a dollhouse explosion. She reminds you to take breaks, taking over when it all feels like too much. You thank her, but she doesn't want to hear it. There is no need, she had a wonderful time hanging out with you. Helping was just an added bonus.

Ava is actually so good at cleaning. She loves lists and baskets and labels. You don't want to show her the disaster, but in order for her to help, you have to. She isn't disgusted or horrified. She doesn't shame you or belittle you. Like everything else in her life, she must put the chaos in order. She takes a look around, making a list of everything that needs to be done. Trash first, then clothes, books, whatever else you've got lying around. She nicely gives you tips on how to handle this before it gets as bad as it is. Tricks you can do to keep it clean even when you are feeling depressed. You thank her a million times, shame creeping up as you watch her work, but she doesn't mind at all. She knows you've been struggling. There's so little one can do for someone else that feels adequate, helpful, like it's enough. This, she thinks, is how she can help. You talk about everything. It takes a few hours and by the end, you've told her things you wouldn't have told any of them. It feels like a relief. It is. She makes sure you know, when you're feeling bad, she'd love to come help organize. It's not a job or some sort of punishment, she genuinely enjoys it.

John is extremely judgmental and though you know he can't help it, he's the last person you come to about this. Nobody else is home though and you can't look at it anymore, you can't live like this. Discreetly, you take out bowls and cups, mugs and trash, washing them and taking out the trash. You know you shouldn't be embarrassed, but you are: John's room is immaculate. Yours? Not so much. When it looks a little better, more manageable, you politely ask him if he'd help you wash some clothes. You try not to let him see the extent of it, but he barges in with an empty basket. He'll make a crude comment or two, but he really does mean well. He wants to help. You give him tasks you think he'd like: folding laundry, switching it from the washer to the dryer, making piles. You stick to the odds and ends, things that need to be put back in their right places. He makes a few jokes that fall flat, but you laugh anyway, thanking him. He shrugs it off, says he's been wanting to get this mess cleared for weeks. You might not always enjoy his company, but at this moment you don't mind the small talk. You're grateful for the help.

Bob, unlike Walker, feels no need to complain or laugh. Bob gets it 100000%. It was so hard for him to keep his room clean. As a child, it was easy: fear drove him to perfection. The fear of his father made him sure not to keep his things lying around, where others could see and then react. As he got older though, it seemed impossible. Not just losing things (important things), just seeing the floor became it's own mission impossible. Depressed, he could barely get out of bed, could barely move, let alone put away laundry. Manic, there are too many important and pressing issues than cleaning his room. There never seemed to be a good time. He doesn't see failure or laziness, he sees struggle, and does everything he can to help. He knows how overwhelming it is, so he gently guides you through, picking categories so it doesn't seem so big/daunting. He definitely gets distracted if you put on music, but neither of you really mind. He's always willing to help, no matter how "bad" it all seems.

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 9 months ago

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Ace having a different hairstyles in his latest card is so cool. Given we seen Jamil with untied hair, it makes me think of most of the cast having their hairstyles change. Like I can imagine Vil without braided hair, Rook's messy hair similar to his Savanaclaw style, Leona's lazy hair, Sebek's same hairstyle as his Briar Valley guard card, and so on. The only ones I can't imagine are Kalim and Ortho since Kalim literally has the most shortest hair and Ortho is well...him. I wonder what Ortho looks like in his sleep wear card, man it will take a year find out. I also thought of Silver since he is usually sleeps alot and has his hair style well the same.

Yup, it looks like (based on Jamil and Ace) every character will get two new looks with the Relaxing in Room cards: messy/bedhead and with a headband.

I feel like this gives us a lot of possibilities!!

VIL BUT HE LOOKS LIKE AN EXTRATERRESTRIAL BECAUSE HE’S IN A FLUFFY BATHROBE AND HEADBAND, GOT ON A FACE MASK, AND HAS CUCUMBER SLICES ON HIS EYES… Terrifying to anyone walking into his room without context www

I think Rook’s hair would depend on just how “permanent” the straightening and smoothing out process is. It would be fun to see it frizzy and natural again, but I think he’s probably got his new grooming routine down pat now, meaning no split ends and such. I’m really interested in seeing how he maintains his new looks though, what kinds of tips and tricks he has picked up from Vil, etc.

cbjsbsjegsksk All I’m picturing for Leona is him making RUGGIE do his braids for him every morning 😭 Leona technically has the dexterity and skill to do it himself (whether by hand or by magic), but I don’t know if he’d always have the drive to do his hair like that every day considering how laid-back his usual style of dress is… (and we all know he already makes Ruggie handle his laundry OTL)

I will happily take any excuse to see Sebek without his hair gelled back 🥺 He looks so cute with his hair down, much more innocent and puppy-like… We need to see more of it!!

For the short hair boys like Kalim and Trey, they’ll probably try to make their usual styles a little messier? Ruffle it up a little or something, just enough to be visually noticeable.

As for Ortho, hmm 🤔 His designs have always been the most unique simply due to the nature of him being an android… and his hair is artificial anyway, so technically it has more range than actual hair. Maybe we’ll actually get to see it take on a new shape? Get on that upgrade, Idia! Or maybe Ortho now has the autonomy to figure it out for himself?

#twisted wonderland #twst #jp spoilers #Jamil Viper #Ace Trappola #Ortho Shroud #Idia Shroud #Ignihyde #Scarabia #Kalim Al-Asim #Trey Clover #Vil Schoenheit #Rook Hunt #Leona Kingscholar #Sebek Zigvolt #Ruggie Bucchi #notes from the writing raven #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst

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ariestrxsh · 7 months ago

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how do i give head to a guy ?😭

Giving head may seem intimidating at first, but honestly, it's a lot of fun, and it's usually pretty easy to get men off with head.

First, you're gonna wanna tease him a little by avoiding the sensitive parts in the beginning, so like licking from the base of the shaft upward (but avoiding the tip). You can do that over and over for a minute.

Once you've teased him for a minute or so, wrap your lips around the head. (This is the most sensitive spot for most men, and especially that little spot where the head meets the shaft where your tongue is naturally going to be resting, there are a ton of nerve endings there.)

Once you put the head in your mouth, start bobbing your head up and down. (Just make sure to keep your teeth out of the way.) You can usually tell by how he's reacting whether he wants it slower or faster when you change up the tempo, but you can also just ask what he likes best. Bonus points if you suck on it while you're doing this, but not too hard.

Also, it's likely you won't be able to fit the whole length in your mouth (especially the first time), so you can use your hand to kind of act like an extension of your mouth by stroking the shaft while you're moving your head up and down, and you'll wanna keep your grip kind of firm, but not so tight that you hurt him. You can also kind of like twist your hand a little while you're doing this instead of moving it just up and down to create a little more dimension and pleasure.

Also eye contact is important! Don't like stare into his soul the whole time, because that could make him uncomfortable, but like glancing up into his eyes every once in a while can be really sexy, and if he likes it, he'll usually be looking back at you while you do this.

You can also experiment by moving your tongue in a circular motion on the tip, or you can try using both hands, and you can do that trick I talked about earlier where you twist your wrist a bit, but you twist both of them in opposite directions at the same time, kind of like if you're using a pepper grinder. (But all that is kind of advanced, and if you're not comfortable trying that the first time, that's okay.)

I'd also say enthusiasm is important. Like, if you're excited to be there and excited to be doing it, he can usually tell, and it'll make it that much hotter if you're enthusiastic about it.

Also, just pay attention to how he reacts. If he seems bored, switch it up a bit. If you can't tell if the faces/sounds he's making are out of pain or pleasure, you can check in while also being sexy about it, and be like, "You like that? Does it feel good when I do that with my mouth?" And just talking dirty in general, telling him how much you like his cock or how much you like sucking on it, that kind of stuff will drive him crazyyy.

I hope this was helpful. 😇

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kabr0ztrousers · 12 days ago

Text

Kabr0z Writes Episode 146: Hedge Magic

This episode references episode 123

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

Ao3!

CWs: blood; group sex; oral sex; anal sex; enthusiastic consent

A/N: Another one that's not a request, but it's much softer than the last couple so it'll be a pleasant palette cleanser

####################################

The Technocrats were closing in. You'd lived here for a while without issue, but nobody stays underground for long. You could get away, sure, you knew more than a few tricks to slip through the grasp of a couple of assholes in black suits, but it'd be a shame to lose what you'd built with Andy, not to mention all the stuff you'd accumulated over the last half a decade or so. You had a friend living in New York, a slightly washed up old ascension warrior calling himself Blitz. He owed you more than a few favours from the old days, and would be more than happy to put you up for a while in exchange for some enchanted drugs. Only problem was getting you, your bull-headed squeeze, and a flat's worth of aggregated crap together and across the Atlantic without passing through an airport. Air travel is a pretty risky bet for a tradition mage when they weren't on to you. Right now, airport security was a damn good way to find yourself face-down in a ditch, or worse. The Techs could always find worse.

You had one good ace up your sleeve though. That particular magic that makes such concepts as "here" and "there" meaningless: Correspondence. You smiled to yourself, it was Blitz who first taught you how to teleport, years and years ago, when you were a bright eyed young witch looking to change the world. Now you're older, a little more jaded, a lot warier around outhouse-sized men with German accents. But, you'd retained his lessons, and you knew exactly how to get to NYC before the afternoon. It'd just take power.

Power. That's always the rub. It's different for every tradition. The Hermetics start chanting in dead languages, the Ecstatics get drunk, the Chorus pray, more than a few Virtual Adepts swear by a handful of some stimulant or other, normally washed down with their preferred caffeinated drink. You're a Verbena, from a long line of witches and wise women. Two generations ago, your forebears may have found a goat to slaughter, but you believed in a more ethical form of magic. Blood was still important, sure, but it could be your own. The real catalyst for your power was a little more enjoyable to get: cum, lots and lots of cum. Sex has power, and you knew a few men who'd happily give you some. It'd work with women too, but it's more traditional to seduce a bunch of guys, not to mention more fun.

You lay in the living room, delicately scratching glyphs and runes into your flesh with the tip of an athame. Andy was standing by, watching patiently as blood dribbled from the shallow wounds, beading on your skin before following your curves down to the increasingly ruined mattress you'd dragged in here for precisely this reason. Paul and Brian were coming to see you off, just as soon as they finished up some odd jobs they had to do. They didn't know where you were going, nor how you were getting there, only to light the candles you'd prepared when you'd gone, and find somewhere to burn the mattress. They didn't need to know the why, the closer they came to knowing what's really going on, the more danger they're in. You all knew that. You also had another caller on the way, a serval called Leo, very much another pseudonym. He was an Etherite, but he was also a good lay, and down to fuck whenever so when you were planning your leaving party, you sent an invite.

You finished carving the last letter into yourself, feeling your skin him and prickle with energy as you passed the bloody knife to Andy to put away, before reclining on the mattress. As if on cue, the two lupines opened the door, hanging up their coats, talking between themselves and a Moroccan accent you hadn't heard in years. Seems like everyone's here.

You didn't bother waiting for them to all get ready before getting started. The whole point is to get as much fucking as possible within a short time, and you'd just finished carving yourself up. It wasn't a usual pain pulsing from your wounds. It didn't make you want to rest and heal, it spurred you on. Magical wounds made with a magic dagger, for the purpose of channeling a particularly carnal magic.

You felt your face flushing as you wrapped your arms around Andy, kissing him as his hands slid over you. Your cunt was dripping, dribbling slick over your legs as you grabbed at his balls, each one the size of an orange.

His cock extended from his sheath, hardening between your legs. You closed your thighs around it, humping his shaft as he grunted. The voices from the hallway were becoming more distinct, before stopping altogether and they stepped through the bead curtain into the living room.

Leo laughed "You Verbena, always finding the fun ways of doing things. I call first dibs on her cunt"

You grinned, Andy wasn't going to like that, but that means you'll just get it harder from him later. You stood up, taking in the looks of shock on Paul and Brian's face, contrasted by the feline smile from Leo. You knelt in front of him, letting him push his crotch to your waiting mouth. It'd been so long since you'd been with a felinid, you'd almost forgotten how eager they could be. Your tongue barely started teasing his sack before you felt his hands in your hair.

He pulled you up to the his sheath, purring as your tongue dipped inside, meeting the tip of his rapidly hardening cock. The barbs always felt strange on your tongue, firm and rubbery. You ran your tongue around the tip, feeling him tightening his grip before you leaned backwards, dragging him down before rolling and trapping him under your hips.

"Wanna make my boy jealous?" you murmured into his ear, urging him on before lowering yourself onto him. You rubbed up and down, grinding your clit against his barbed cock, reducing the Etherite below you to a panting mess.

Paul must've gotten over his trepidation, he stepped up, positioning his drooling, knotted cock in front of your face. You put on your best face, opening your mouth as you gazed up into his eyes and stuck out your tongue, inviting him in. Another canid cock rubbed over your asshole, oozing the prodigious quantities of precum they were famous for. You felt a stream of cool lube, massaged into your crack as he pushed gently in.

You shifted slightly, allowing Leo to slide in, the ample amounts of slick letting him sink into you, all the way to the base. You moaned into the cock in your mouth, hearing Paul groan at the vibrations of your voice. You leaned back slightly, feeling your asshole stretch around Brian's member. Your hips rocked gently, feeling the barbs in your pussy, the knot against your ass. Four pairs of hands fondled you, guiding your movements on the men inside you. You let the pleasure wash over you, the barbs in your cunt rubbing against the smooth cock in your rear, the salty-sweet taste of the precum painting your mouth, knowing that this was just the starter, whichever hole came free first would get a foot of minotaur schlong jammed into it.

Waves of sensation flooded over you. Your heart thumped in your ears. Your legs spasmed. Your muscles clenched. Andy pushed your head into Paul's crotch, making you gag on him as he started to pump down your throat. He knew what he was doing, jamming the lupine's knot into your mouth, force-feeding you cum. You gasped for breath between pumps, alternating swallowing and breathing.

Leo wasn't far behind, holding your hips down onto him as he unloaded into you, thick cum squirting inside. You shuddered with the feeling of being filled from both ends. Simmering power building in your cuts flushing you with endorphins. Your legs tightened up against Leo, trapping him in as your cunt milked him dry.

The knot left your mouth with an audible pop. Andy pulled you off Leo, positioning his own dripping rod against your used hole. You were as light as a panting, sweating ragdoll in his hands, your skin streaked with drying blood as you circled your hips on him.

He didn't care for foreplay. He'd just watched you get fucked by three other men, and wanted you to know who you belonged to. You gasped as he entered, the wide flare stretching you. Every thrust made you squeak, every pull dragging a dribble of felinid cum out with it. Your eyes rolled back, you loved it when he used you like this.

Your hand closed around the other lupine, jacking him off as your man used you to jack off. Your legs were still twitching from the last orgasm. You tried to guide him to your asshole, Andy picking up on what you wanted, thrusting into you more than lifting you up, letting you stuff your other hole before he redoubled his efforts. Your moans drowned out your thoughts. The buzzing magic made your head spin. You groped at your tits, feeling the next wave coming over you.

Andy pressed you against the mattress, forcing the other knot inside. As soon as your ass tightened around the base of Brian's cock, that was it. More hot ropes spurted within you. More power fuelled your ritual. More of that delicious haze filled your head. You could barely think at all now, focused on getting a wombful of Andy's spunk. You squeezed on him. You stroked his wide chest. You stuck your tongue into his mouth. You felt those gargantuan balls slapping against your ass. Every shuddering stroke they got tighter, rising inexorably as you sank.

You brought your mouth to his fluttering ear, smelling the musky sweat slicking his wiry fur to his skin. You uttered your command

"Cum in me"

You can't do mind-altering magic. You never learned how. Never wanted to. But as soon as those words left your lips, it was as though you were a master. The shuddering breathing was replaced by deep, braying roars. Andy stuffed the last few inches of his member into you, making you gasp as you stretched. He held you down onto him, throbbing and mooing. Then you felt it. Thick, hot, spraying so hard you could feel the pressure against your back walls. He would've filled you to bursting, had so much of his prodigious load not squirted out of you. It pooled underneath you in a puddle of glue-like seed. Your juices mixed, the cum of the four men, your own natural lubricant, and of course the blood still dripping from your etchings.

Your body buzzed, like a hive of bees were under your skin, trying to get out. You were only dimly aware of Leo herding the other men out. You clung to Andy. Both your hands were on his head, fixing him with your gaze. Your ears rang. You tasted ozone. The seed boiled within you. The world flickered, and the room was gone.

Your head cleared, the intoxicating power spent. You looked up from your lover, his softening cock slipping from you in a flow of cum.

You were in a warehouse, surrounded by a circle of wires and humming server racks. A bored looking man leaned against a pillar; overweight, balding, what hair he had was dyed acid pink, wearing a pair of black jeans and a band t-shirt under a jacket made of more patches than denim.

Blitz.

"Heard you'd be coming to visit" he threw a gym bag at you "change of clothes and documents. You're called Melanie now, and the big guy's Hector. Born and raised in Utah. Help me get your shit in the van"

You dug out your new fake ID. It was immaculate, Blitz was an ass, but he's an old man in a profession where most die young. You pick up some tricks.

Melanie. You could get used to that name. You turned to Andy, now Hector

"Here's to a new life"

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