#clockwork smirks in the background

[lot-of-nothing]

Entwined (Ch. 2)

Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

After what you thought was a wonderful night together, Melissa leaves you feeling cold.

Warnings: Toxic Melissa, smut, and very veiled internalized homophobia

Author's Note: Thank you guys so much for all the love with the first chapter. And a huge thank you to @alexusonfire for being my beta <3

Link to Chapter 1

While a comfort show played in the background, you swiped mindlessly on a dating app. There was a part of you that felt as if you were betraying Melissa by doing so, but then again, she dated and even married without much of a thought about you or your relationship. The women you swiped on all seemed nice enough, but they were no Melissa Schemmenti. 

You were drawn from your phone when the redhead let herself into your home and held up a Tupperware container to you as she walked past you and into your kitchen. Your eyes followed her sweat pant clad hips the entire time she spoke to you, “I brought puttanesca, and I forgot my show is on in fifteen, so we have to postpone the sex for an hour.”

“You didn’t have to come.” Your response was automatic. By no means were you trying to get her to leave, but she shouldn’t feel so beholden to come by when your relationship was so casual. 

Mel paused briefly, glancing over her shoulder with furrowed brows, “Since when did you play all hard to get?”

Rather than respond to her, you turned back to face the television with a roll of your eyes. It was never really worth starting trouble with Melissa. Instead, it is best to just pick and choose your battles. 

When she emerged from the kitchen, she was carrying two bowls that she must have pulled from your cabinets. There was a pang in your chest at seeing Mel be so domestic in your own home. It was a sight you yearned for, yet you knew it was best not to get used to it. 

She passed off a bowl to you with a commanding tone,  “Eat.”

Taking the bowl into your hands, you passed off the remote in return, “What are we watching?” 

“Real Housewives.” Mel asked with her mouth full and her forearm covering her mouth from your view. When she finished chewing, she took the phone from your hand and began flipping through the channels in search of her favorite tv show. 

You rolled your head over to stare at Melissa with an unenthused reaction - a bit overdramatic, but it reflected your overall disinterest in the reality program. 

Mel wouldn’t even give you a glance as she found the right channel. She only held up a hand and sassed you, “I don’t need your shit. Now shhh! It’s starting.”

—

Melissa was on you in an instant when her show was through. She threw her leg over your lap, straddling you with a smirk, “And now I’m ready for ‘ya.”

“Now you’re ready?” You let out a breathy laugh and ran your fingers up her thighs to squeeze her hips. Watching her lips expectantly, you began moving her shirt up slowly. You couldn’t help it as your heartbeat quickened in pace - Melissa was just far too gorgeous. 

Melissa began rocking slowly in your lap and you nearly melted as her manicured hands found your cheeks with a hum, “Mhmm...”

She dove down for your lips without any further hesitation. Her kisses were deep and hungry which was often evidence of her impatience. Mel moved her hands from your face and used them to brace herself on the back of the couch. She would always do this, grinding and bucking against you so you would cave in and touch her. 

Like clockwork, you did as you were silently commanded, knowing she would only maintain control over you for a few minutes longer. You pulled down on her hips, guiding her to grind against you and earning a groan from her. 

The sound was your kryptonite. It was addicting.

You maneuvered swiftly to draw more sounds from her. One arm around her waist, guiding her to grind back and forth, while the other was pushed beneath the waistbands of her sweats and underwear. 

Satisfying her needy desires earned you deeper kisses and she moaned into your mouth as your fingers slipped through her folds, “Oh, Jesus..”

When you found she wasn’t as damp as you liked, you withdrew your hand from her underwear. Parting your kiss, you pushed your fingers past your lips and swirled your tongue around the digits. 

Spit drenched your fingers when you guided them back to her clit, and the newfound wetness caused her to gasp. 

She looked so perfect like this. Forehead pressed to yours. Flyaways of red hair framing her face and dancing in your periphery. Jaw slack with her eyes screwed shut. Soft moans rising from her throat with every shift of your fingers. Her soft breasts threatened to spill from her tank top with every thrust of her hips. Every few moments your name was huffed in the most beautiful, desperate tone. Her hands shifting rapidly between the couch and your shoulders as she sought contact while also attempting to brace herself. 

You cooed to her softly, knowing all she needed now was praise. “Pretty girl… so beautiful aren’t you?” 

She knew the drill. Melissa knew to answer your question promptly if she wanted you to continue playing with her. She let out a strangled hum to avoid taking away too much of her attention from her own orgasm, “Mhmm.”

Your fingers danced gently at the edges of her face, tucking hair behind her ears. You wanted to kiss her cheeks, but you refrained from the gentle intimacy to avoid spooking Melissa.Your next question flowed from your lips with a tone dripping with intense desire, “Are you gonna make yourself cum on my fingers?”

Mel was doing all the work at this point. Her hips ground erratically, hinting she was getting incredibly close to her climax. She could only answer your question with a strangled hum. “Mhmm.”

“What was that, hon?” You drew your hand back an inch, earning a desperate and frustrated gasp from the redhead. 

Her eyes flickered open and you were suddenly face to face with her wild, green hues. Mel was obviously upset with how you were teasing her, but it was laughable with how quickly she folded in the bedroom. Her willpower was all but nonexistent when your hand was down her pants. 

She gasped and bucked her hips upward in search of your hand, “Yes… Oh god, yes please…”

“It almost sounds like Melissa Schemmenti is begging.” Your grin was evil as you slipped your fingers back to where they had been previously. The redhead went crazy in your lap, gasping and moaning as her hips writhed in order to achieve her orgasm. 

It only took her mere seconds to find it, and with a final buck of her hips, her face was buried into her crook of your neck as she rode out her orgasm and choked out, “Fuck you.”

—

Melissa was running her hands up and down your thighs as she went down on you. She would always get so lost in giving you head that she would come up for air with big gasps. And rarely did she ever stop right away after your orgasm, it typically took writhing and begging to pull her from her pussy eating trance.

When you came, your hips lifted into the air with Melissa’s face still attached - a sight to behold. Your final orgasm (or orgasms) came in a final set of three, rolling together in a way that had you sobbing out in search of reprieve. 

When you finally settled, Melissa rested her cheek on your mons and tucked her hands under your sides to better snuggle against you. “Give me a few minutes and then I’ll be ready for another go.” 

She always was so avid about giving head to you - a little fact that made you raise your eyebrows in questioning. After all, it seemed a little fruity for her to enjoy it as much as she did.

You had no complaints at the suggestion as your blissed out mind mulled over the events of the past half hour while your eyes focused on the lazily moving ceiling fan, “Mm... Sounds good to me.”

It was hard to draw your attention away from the red hair draped over your middle. And against your better judgment, you began twirling and untwirling the locks around your fingers. Her hair was silky to the touch and the smell of her rose scented shampoo and conditioner wafted up to you. 

“Wuddya think you’re doin’?” Mel’s tone seemed slightly annoyed, but she made no effort to move away from you or to get you to stop. 

“Oh, relax, tiger.” You teased Melissa, pushing your fingers against her scalp to rub gently. “You aren’t any less tough just ‘cause I’m playin’ with your hair.”

“Hmph.” Melissa begrudgingly turned her attention to the reality show that now graced the tv  She told herself that she would only have to allow for it until she was ready for another round of sex. 

Rarely would you get these soft moments of intimacy from her. Often she would leave or move away to prevent any prolonged contact like this, but something about spending time together before sex must have softened her up. This moment alone gave you the bittersweet feeling that you fit so well together, but you had to remind yourself of the constant heartbreak she caused you.

Episode after episode of miscellaneous reality television played before you checked in again with the redhead to see if you were done for the evening, “Mel?”

When no response came, you sat up at a low angle to look down at the woman who had fallen asleep on top of you. With a gentle hand, you combed red curls from her face to expose her features softened by slumber. Even with a quick glance of her sleeping face, you were pained by your yearning for her... as you knew the odds were not in your favor. 

No one could feel sorry for you. For decades you had inflicted this pain on yourself, letting her back in a moment's notice. And tragically, you worried this pattern was destined to repeat itself as Melissa had a way about her that felt addictive for you. 

So while you knew Melissa spending the night would not be good for your heart, you continued played with her hair until you finally fell asleep.

---

The next morning you woke up feeling incredibly stiff from your night spent on the couch. Worst of all, the redhead that had once been sleeping on your stomach was absent. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you looked around your home for evidence of Melissa’s presence, but her purse and jacket that once sat on a chair near the front door were now gone. 

As you looked around, you noticed that you were draped in a blanket and the television had been turned off. When you stood and glanced into the kitchen, your eyes caught a glimpse of the dinner dishes in the drying rack. 

You felt your cheek grow warm from the embarrassment. She couldn’t stick around to say goodbye, but she was a decent houseguest and washed the dishes? 

Retrieving your phone from the coffee table, you drop yourself down on the couch as you furiously type out a message to the redhead and hit send. 

Couldn’t say goodbye before you left?

Her reply came a few minutes later, and you could feel her attitude emanating from the screen - We aren’t dating. 

Maybe you should have thought it through more when you replied, but you sent the text anyway - That doesn’t mean I don’t care.

And it was no shock that all you received was radio silence from Melissa. It infuriated you that she couldn’t even send a simple text, a like, or even an emoticon in response. One day turned into a week which turned into a month, and finally there you were three months later with no response. 

You were so over it at this point. It was painful and embarrassing that you thought your night together of dinner, tv, and fucking felt so natural and fun - only for her to leave you high and dry before the sun rose. 

There was no reason to let Melissa Schemmenti make you feel like this again. It was finally time to move on, and you did with a simple notification from a dating app.

Link to Chapter 3

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

[nctsworld]

at your earliest convenience

✩‌ haechan x reader | fluff | 1.3k

SUMMARY | in which haechan is always your one (and annoying) late-night customer at the 24/7 convenience store you work at and one evening, he forgets his wallet. in lieu of payment, he asks if he can take you out on a date instead. // part of the connection series

WARNINGS | slightly insecure reader, none really!

RATING | teen+

AUTHOR'S NOTE | please check out (and maybe send in some prompt requests) @nctpromptmeme!

You ring him up, like clockwork. 

The scanner picks up a bag of the Korean brand onion rings, two Red Bulls, and an instant noodle cup.  

He’s the only consistent man in your life, ignoring the fact that the sole reason why he’s in your life is because he always comes into the 24/7 convenience store you work at during late, sometimes ungodly, hours. Tonight, it’s not that bad: 1:53am. 

Rarely, no one else strolls in during your shift (and you’re grateful it’s a safe neighbourhood). 

However, this young man lives to make your shift a painful one. 

Usually with ruffled hair, transparent-framed glasses, and a simple t-shirt and sweatpants, he saunters in as if he owns the store, often swinging his keys or obnoxiously whistling along to the song playing in the background. From the moment he steps into the store, his existence alone irks you. 

Unsurprisingly, he then takes a solid ten minutes on average (yes, you’ve timed it) to buy his items. Whistling evolves into screeches or emphatic oohs and aahs. Sometimes, he even narrates the entire process, as if he's the main character in a show. And yet, despite it all, he ends up buying the same rotation of his favourite items. 

If not the onion rings, the shrimp crackers. If not the Red Bulls, the bottles of Monster instead. He may be grabbing one cup of noodles tonight, but other times it’s three. Potentially even a completely different brand, if he’s feeling adventurous.   

On that note, predictability is in his nature. You plead internally for him to live a little, to maybe even spice up his night with a little change, for crying out loud. Heck, maybe even change the grey or black t-shirt he always wears to a shade that’s not a neutral tone or to put on a jacket for once. 

And the cherry on top is the constant annoying smirk he flashes when you tell him his total. 

You want to punch it off his face, smear it across the shiny floors with the dirty mop water you use at the beginning and end of shift.  

“How are you doing tonight, gorgeous?” he asks. Sometimes gorgeous is replaced with beautiful or cutie. It only adds to his annoyance of regularity and you have an itch he does this all the time with others, making you not take his typical endearing terms seriously.  

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “I’m not gorgeous, but, as always, thank you for the compliment.” 

His smirk melts, and you catch yourself feeling a tinge of something as his features soften. 

“You are, though,” your regular says. You quickly glance up, wondering if that pout and look in his eyes are genuine. “You know that I call you gorgeous because I mean it, right?” 

You’re unsure how to react, so you give a small nod and repeat the total, softly this time.

There’s a beat when the man gets lost in thought, but the moment quickly fades. He reaches into his sweatpants. However, he stops abruptly, before he reaches in again and pats the outside of his other pockets. 

“Fuck,” he hisses. You realize two things: one, you’ve never heard him curse; and two, he doesn’t have his wallet.

Well, that surely is different than usual.

Instinctively, you pull the snacks toward you. 

“Don’t you dare think I’m letting you walk away with everything for free,” you say, half-jokingly. Even though you’re 80% certain you can trust him, you still don’t know what he’s like.  

He smiles sweetly, quite differently than his smirks, forcing you to admit he’s handsome (just a little). “How could you expect me to stoop that low?” he whine-asks, clutching his chest in pain. 

After a moment of staring up at the ceiling in thought with his tongue running against his lower teeth, a Cheshire grin spreads over his face and he raises an eyebrow.

You don’t like it one bit and regret the moment earlier, mentally punching yourself for finding him a tiny bit attractive. 

“How about…”—he pauses as he rhythmically taps his fingers onto the counter—“...you let me take you out on a date in exchange for these items?” 

A scoff releases into the air. “Are you really telling me I’m only worth $11.87?” 

“What—no! Of course not,” he flicks a wrist upward in annoyance, then gestures to himself. “A date with me is worth way more in value, so you’ll be getting a better bargain.” 

You could not believe this guy. “Is a date with you really going to be worth it?” 

“Look,” he leans in over the counter and you catch a whiff of a light, woody scent. You fight off the desire to deeply inhale it. “No matter where we go or what happens, I’ll make sure you’ll be happy by the end of it. Isn’t that worth taking the risk of losing $11.87?” 

Squinting your eyes at him, while still clutching the goods he wants, you start to warm-up to the idea since you don’t have anything to lose (but maybe that’s due to the influence of his slightly intoxicating aura). 

“Will you choose the date location?” you ask, guarded.

He shakes his head. “Everything will be up to you and I’ll try to accommodate my schedule as best as I can.” 

You raise an eyebrow, challenging him. “And what if I want to go to the most expensive restaurant in town?”

Without hesitation, he nods. “Then we’ll go to the most expensive restaurant in town.” 

“If I wanted to order the $130 steak?” 

“$130 steak it is.” 

“If I—” 

The cute (you can’t deny it at this point) stranger cuts you off with a raise of his hand. God, you hate how cocky he is. 

Suddenly, he holds out a hand, sticking his pinky finger up. He waggles it, and you realize he’s waiting for you to do the same. You curl a pinky around his.

“There. I promise you—cross my heart and swear on my mother’s life—that I’ll uphold and adhere to whatever date conditions you ask of me.” He straightens, stepping away from the counter. “Now, can I please have my snacks and drinks?” 

The events of tonight took quite a turn. Never in a million years would you think Mr. Predictability would ask you out on a date, let alone be pretty sweet about it.  

Perhaps there’s more to him than you thought. 

You hand him your phone, and he does the same. 

When he gives it back, you shake your head at the text he sent and the name he gave himself.

“Hyuck?” you ask, unfamiliar with the name.  

“Short for Donghyuck, but yes, beautiful?”

You turn your phone towards him in disbelief. “What’s with the heart next to your name?” 

He shrugs, flashing you another smug smile. “What about it?”  

Glancing down at his phone, he beams. You wonder if it’s because you wrote the following in brackets after your name: You Owe Me a Date Worth More than $11.87. 

“And your name is just as beautiful as you are.” 

Again, another eye roll. You wonder if the date will be filled with more of it. You shove the stuff towards him. 

“I have to know: do those lines really work?”

“Well, I have a date lined up with you, so you tell me.” 

Before you have a chance to retort, he grabs something out from his pocket.

A wallet.

His motherfucking wallet, and he has the audacity to toss a $20 bill onto the counter with the same grin that you still want to wipe the floor with. Your jaw hangs. 

“Keep the change,” he says, along with your name and grants you a wink as he grabs his items. 

“I’ll be seeing you on our date soon, gorgeous.” 

AUTHOR'S ENDING NOTE

thank you for reading! i've been getting so much love for this - y'all are amazing. if you would like to read an informal continuation, see here!

[kai-anderson-whore]

Next chapter (kit walker x fem reader smut) (kinktober fic 5)

Summary: you and kit have been married for two years, neither of you thought of trying for a baby till kit brings the idea up again.

Warnings: smut, fluff, breeding kink, creampie, heavy kissing, cuddles in the kitchen (it’s giving mardy bum by arctic monkeys), trying for a baby, talks about trying for a baby, unprotected sex, romance, aftercare

Word count: 1,4k

A/n: we are officially half way through the kinktober masterlist this one is quite cute ngl.

•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•..•°˚˚°•.•¤❅¤•.•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•.

Married life was great to kit walker, he never used to see himself the type to marry until he met you. He knew from the moment he saw you, you were the one. Now two years into your happy marriage, routine was almost the same. You would sat together for breakfast, kit would go off to work, come home and have dinner then cuddle up on the sofa by the coal fire.

Kit was at work filling a families car up with gas, he couldn't help but smile to himself seeing the couple's toddlers carrying on the backseat. Kit finished filling the tank up with gas, the husband paid kit for the job thanking him. Luckily it was almost the end of his shift, he just couldn't wait to get home and see you.

"Have a nice day" kit smiled waving them off in his usual friendly manner. Walking back into the garage plopping himself down on the chair with a sigh. His mind drifted off, thinking what life would be like for you and him if you both had a couple of kids running around. His heart swelled at the thought.

You both previously spoke about children not planning anything, a mutual agreement that if you were to end up pregnant one day it would be great news, but it wasn't set in stone. For a few weeks now kit had been thinking about starting a family, he knew he was ready for a baby. But he also knew you would be carrying the baby for nine months 'would you be even ready?' Kit thought. Not realising the time kit's shift came to an end grabbing his jacket closing the garage, he set off home. Planning on maybe bringing the baby subject to the table later tonight.

You were at home just finished making dinner for you and kit, the radio playing in the background. Just like clockwork kit entered through the door with his usual room shining smile. "Honey I'm home" he sang making you smile. "Hey how was work?" You asked setting the tea towel down on the counter. Kit made his way over to you wrapping you up in a hug, "it was okay nothing special just glad to be back home with you" he smiled against your lips before pressing them to yours in a chaste kiss.

'Then he kissed me by the crystals' played making you grin at the coincidence. "Ironic" kit chuckled pulling away from your lips. "Then he asked me to be his bride, I'll always be right by his side" you sang along your arms around his neck. Kit just smirked letting you enjoy the song. "Dinners ready" you spoke up once the song ended. "Perfect" he whispered.

After dinner you were cleaning the dishes whilst kit got out his work clothes. The radio back on playing throwbacks 'blueberry hill by fats domino' playing, you hummed along it was one the very song that played when you met kit. "For you were my thrill, on blueberry hill" kit entered back into the kitchen singing along, wrapping his strong arms around your waist from behind still singing along, swaying you both gently to the song.

You smiled leaning your head back on his chest, shoulders deflated in comfort. Kit's chin resting on your shoulder peppering soft kisses along your exposed neck. A content sigh left your lips feeling at home with your husband's arms around your waist. "Let's make a baby" kit whispers into your ear, your eyes shot open. Turning your body to face him, arms still around your waist.

"A baby?" You asked unsure if you heard him right. Sure you would adore having a baby with kit but you always assumed if it happens. "Yeah come on, think about it honey a little mini us running around" kit's voice soft and gentle swaying you both to the love songs on the radio.

You thought about it for a moment sure you felt ready to start a family but didn't think kit was just yet. "Are you sure kit it is a huge responsibility" you question, "I'm more than sure, only if you want to have a baby after all it's your body" kit assures. You smile sweetly at your husband nodding your head. "Okay let's try for a baby" you bit your lip.

Kit smiled pressing his lips to yours gingerly making you melt into his lips. Your arms wrapped around his neck once again bringing him closer to you. From the sweet kiss turned heated and passionate, kit leading you both to your shared bedroom with little to no effort. You giggled nearly tripping over each other entering the bedroom.

"Now are you sure about this kit" you asked one more time taking your dress off along with your undergarments. "I'm more than sure, just the thought of you pregnant does things to me" kit groaned laying you gently on the bed, he took his clothes off before climbing on top of you. His lips back on you, your body reacting to his gentle touches, like putty in his hands.

Kit took his hardened erection between your folds using your arousal as a lubricant, slipping inside of you with a groan, your hands gripped onto his biceps a sigh leaving your own plump lips. Your head felt light at the sudden sensation your walls accustomed to his size. Kit peppers your cheek with loving kisses, his eyes were clouded with nothing but love and affection with the faintest hint of lust.

It was like on your wedding night all over again when he was the first person to ever touch you in such a way.  Now a new special moment in your life, kit wanted this moment to be as romantic as possible. He retracted his hips starting in a slow passionate pace. Soft sighs left your lips, your hair tossled around the pillows beneath your head. "I love ya so much suga" kit mumbles his rough hand guided your leg over his waist.

"I love you" you panted out running a hand through his chocolatey hair. "I can't wait for us to have a baby" he says his thrusts a little more faster but still as loving as before. You moaned at the sudden quickening pace of his hips. Your walls fluttered around him greedily around him.

Kit already felt close to the edge trying to contain himself for a little longer. Your hips lifted making kit hit that spot to make you come undone for him. "I'm so close" you moaned out your grip tightened around his toned arms. "Me too baby, I'm gonna to fill you up so fucking good" he whispers burying his head in the crook of your neck.

Your breath catches in the back of your throat as the overwhelming force of your release washes over you. “Oh my god” you loudly moan, back arched, nails sinking into kit’s arm triggering his own release. With a low moan kit released inside your velvety walls, not letting a drop go to waste. Your legs shaking with the slight overstimulation.

Once kit was sure he milked every drop of his cum inside you, he pulled out making you whimper at the loss of contact. You felt the mixture of yours and kit’s release drooling down your legs, kit chuckling to himself before grabbing a towel to clean you up. Your legs shaking ever so slightly, his hand running along your leg soothing you.

“You need anything, water?, food?” He asked stroking your cheek. “Just some water please” you replied with a lopsided smile. Kit nodded his head getting your water and discarding the towel. You sat on the bed thinking about the possibility that you created a new life just now. A huge milestone in your marriage, a smile creeping on your lips.

“What’s got you smiling?” Kit entered the room holding the glass of water, mimicking your smile. “Just thinking” you sighed as kit handed you the glass of water, you took a sip as he crawled into bed beside you. “About?” He questioned further. You placed the cold glass on your nightstand getting yourself more comfortable, head resting on his broad chest. “About the fact we’re trying for a baby”.

Kit’s hand stroking your arm, his other arm that’s free resting behind his head, deep in thought. “I know it’s crazy to think” he whispered with the same smile on his lips. “You know”- you turned your body so your chin rested on his chest, kit raised his eyebrow at you for you to continue. “It’s might take a good few tries till we get pregnant”.

“I guess we gotta keep trying then” kit smirks flipping you both over, a laugh erupting from your lips.

[zylev-blog]

Background info for this post:

Danielle: Diana

Sam: Demeter

Danny: Zeus

Valerie: Artemis

Dan: Poseidon

Vlad: Hades

Clockwork: Kronos

Jazz: Athena

Pandora: Hippolyta

Ghost form: Divine form

————-

Diana was reading in the Watchtower when Danny sought her out. He stayed invisible, but he knew she knew he was there.

“Hello, Father.” Diana said formally, turning the page in her book. “What brings you by? Did Mother kick you out again?”

“No,” He denied. “She didn’t.”

“Okay.” Diana responded, “What did you do this time?”

“I didn’t do anything!” He insisted.

“Who’s that talking?” Barry asked from the other side of the room.

“Father, you may as well show yourself so that it appears that I am not speaking to myself. But a word of caution; you may want to reign in your appearance.” Diana set down her book, looking up where Danny had been invisibly floating in front of her.

“There is nothing wrong with my appearance.” He grumbled.

“Really? What happened to the last mortal you let see you?” Diana cocked an eyebrow.

“His brain melting was not my fault.” He denied instantly.

“Mhm.” Diana waved her hand. “You don’t even remember his name, do you?”

“Of course I do!” He bristled.

“Really? What is it then?”

“Steve Trevor.” He said proudly, “But you know that I won’t remember every mortal fling you’ve ever had.”

“Are you calling me old, Father? Isn’t that like calling the kettle black?” Diana smirked.

He blushed, but only Diana could see it. “I see you are getting wise in your old age. Would that be Artemis or Athena’s influence?”

“Both.” Diana responded, “But the same could be said of it being Grandfather’s influence.”

“I am so confused.” Barry complained.

“Father.” Diana prompted.

“Fine,” He grumbled, shifting to his human form. He had long since reached adulthood, and his human form reflected that. He was 6”6 tall, with spiky black hair and light blue eyes. Stubble covered the bottom half of his face, but it was immaculately trimmed. He wore black armor with a cape made of galaxies.

“Wow.” Barry glanced at Diana, then back to Danny. “Do I bow?”

“That’s not necessary.” He said quickly. “My name is Zeus. It’s wonderful to meet you, Barry Allen.”

“He knows my real name?” Barry asked, shaking Danny’s hand.

“Of course. He is King. He knows all.” Diana smirked, looking at him.

“Do not compare me to my father.” He complained, “I am not an omnipresent asshole.”

“What?” Barry asked.

“See all, know all, that kind of bullshit.” He shrugged, “I’m not God with a capital G.”

“Why are you here if it has nothing to do with Mother?” Diana asked.

“Hades.” He said as Diana stiffened, “He has… become active lately.”

“Is he back to his old ways?” Diana frowned.

“Not completely.” He responded, thinking of the days long since past when Vlad had messed with clones. “Nobody is sure what he is up to, since we can’t find him.”

“That’s not possible.” Diana sat up straighter.

“He gave up his divine form.” He said, “Taking on a new mortal form.”

“That’s…” Diana trailed off, unsure of what to say.

“You see the dilemma, then, daughter?” He asked.

“Perhaps he is turning over a new leaf, as the humans say.” Diana said slowly.

“Do you trust Hades?” He narrowed his eyes.

Diana had no comment.

“Your grandfather doesn’t think you should be involved,” He continued, “But your mortal friends…”

“I will summon them at once.” Diana stood.

“Great, I’m so glad you both pretend as if I’m not here.” Barry complained.

“I am sorry my friend,” Diana looked over at the speedster.

“It’s okay.” Barry shrugged.

“I had forgotten what it was like to speak to mortals. My apologies.” He apologized.

“You don’t remember what it was like to be a hero, Father?” Diana teased, “Perhaps I should ask Frostbite for dementia medicine.”

He rolled his eyes. “Perhaps I should ask him if it’s too late to have an abortion.”

Diana gasped. “Mother would take offense to that!”

“She will,” He agreed.

[gaiathemexicanbeauty]

it only takes a taste | mike schmidt x reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: none! this is just pure fluff and maybe kind of slowburnish lol

this was loosely based off of it only takes a taste from the waitress musical! :3

idk i just really like the idea of late nights with mike even if he's too tired to even think straight lmao

also don't ask what time period this takes place in, i was born in 2004 and know like 2 things about the 70s-90s or whenever the movie takes place bc its never explicitly mentioned

i also do not regularly bake or cook so do not be afraid to go to my comment section and tell me if something sounds off

i love this man ok, i have said it 1000 times already but i've been in love with him ever since i first saw him when i was like 12 or 13 and was even more so obsessed with rebornica's mike design for YEARS. 12 year old me would have an aneurism if she knew about the fnaf movie

you let out a long yawn, one hand reaching up cover your mouth so as not to potentially ruin the mood of any customers around; granted, there was only two and they were graveyard shifters from somewhere outside of town but customers are customers. you'd been working at sparky's for a couple of months now, figuring it was an easy way to make some cash and keep food on the table. of course, you hadn't accounted for the very long hours that passed where you half debated trying to sneak away since no was around from 2-4:00 am: your boss would kill you, though, and you wanted to stay employed.

soft oldies music plays in the background as you glance over at the clock ticking away on the wall. just as you move to grab a rag to clean the counters for the 5th time during your shift, you hear the bell above the entrance jingle and don't even have to look up to know who it is.

mike wasn't a regular at first, just someone who popped in at random and very quietly asked for a coffee. after a while of starting a new job, he started coming in at almost 11:00 pm everyday and always asking for the same thing: just a plain, black coffee. "seriously?" you had said with a smirk the first time he said his order to you, your eyes widening at the attitude you had just given a customer. fortunately, mike was quick to respond with a tired but good natured laugh, his hands folded in front of him. "i'm all ears if you have other recommendations." he mumbled with a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, giving you instant relief.

now, it was just clockwork. "hey." mike sighs with a soft sigh, rubbing a hand over his eyes as he takes a seat at a chair by the counter you were standing behind. "coffee machine is kind of acting up tonight, you're gonna have to give it a minute. want anything else while you wait?" you say as you approach the counter, giving him a quick smile. mike is about to decline your offer, his lips parting to say something before his eyes land on something on the farther end of the counter. "what about that? still good?" "you're just in time. i was going to take the rest of it home." you say with a smile, walking over to the cake stand holding an apple pie with only 3 slices left of it. you take the lid off to plate it, handing it over to mike with a hum before bringing him utensils. you don't even get the chance to bring up to him that the slices have been sitting there for a couple of hours, blinking in shock at the way he's quick to start eating.

you turn your back to start taking down the chalkboard advertising the special from the day before, giving mike his one moment of quiet you were sure he needed. you start to think about what your day will consist of once you're done with your shift, dreading having to clean your room before you can actually sleep. "did you make this?" "yeah. why, is it bad?" you say with a chuckle, turning to look at mike again; your eyes widen a bit at the way mike is looking at you, his own eyes looking at you like he can't believe what he just put it in his mouth. "no, no, it's..it's really good, like. really good." your cheeks redden a bit at the sudden compliment, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear as you occasionally glance at him enjoying the pie you'd made; you wouldn't say you were amazing at cooking but you definitely knew enough to make a meal that would do more than just feed you.

it also didn't help that you'd been harboring a crush on mike for the past month. that you were aware of, he didn't have a partner of any kind but that might have been more to do with the fact he didn't have time for one than anything else. you at first brushed it off as just not having contact with anyone your age that late at night, just enjoying his company when nights got lonely. but you couldn't deny the way you would style your hair a bit differently or try a new perfume in the hopes of getting a compliment from mike; to your absolute pleasure, he almost always pointed it out. now to hear this sudden praise for your cooking took you out of your element.

"thanks, really, but i make it all the time. i can make thousands like it and they'll all be the same." you say with a light chuckle, crossing your arms against your chest as you look over at the cake stand sheepishly. "then maybe you should consider getting a day job making these instead." mike says between bites, giving you a playful smile. you can't help but scoff despite the smile on your face, looking over at mike again. "well, if it's that easy, maybe YOU should quit your job and come and join me. keep me company." the two of you have a quiet laugh, your cheeks reddening at the indirect compliment you had paid him. once his plate is empty, you take it away from him just to have an excuse to do something with your hands (also to get away from the almost fond look that mike was giving you right now, definitely not on par for him). there's a tense silence between the two of you before mike speaks up, clearing his throat when he speaks. "uh, i tried making that at home. the pie, i mean. i don't remember what kind it was right now, but it definitely didn't end as well as that." he says with a nervous laugh, hands folded in front of him again as you hear the coffee machine start to pour out his drink.

"well, what exactly did you do wrong?" with surprisingly no hesitance, mike goes on to tell the story of how sure he was about this recipe he'd seen in a catalogue, going above and beyond to make sure this "stupid thing" (his words) came out right. little did he know leaving his creation unattended for even a second would result in smoke pouring out of the oven and having to throw out a charred-black pastry; "and then abby went and acted like we could just go and do it all over again and.." mike starts, hands waving around uncharacteristically as he finished off his story. he caught the way you were trying to hold back a laugh, fingers pressed to your lips that were etched into a small smile. "it's ok, you can laugh all you want. i never tried doing it again." you can't help the laugh that leaves you once he gives you his full permission, still trying to keep your voice down. "i-i'm sorry, really.." you giggle once you've calmed down, rubbing your hands over your face before you start to walk around the counter to where mike is sitting. "but that's not how making a pie works. you can't just leave it like that or give up on the process that easily."

mike makes a face that says 'i'm listening', shrugging his shoulders when you sit on the stool next to him. "making a pie is like.." you start with a sigh, hands propping up your chin in thought as you look up at the clock. "you just know when some things feel right. if something is too much or too little, whether you need to start again or not. lord knows i've had to redo entire pies because the crust wasn't flaky enough or the filling didn't taste like apples enough." you say, chuckling a bit as you remember all the times you'd slaved away for almost entire days trying to nail down the perfect home recipe. you take a minute to think again, sitting back a bit as you smooth down your apron tied around your waist. "and it also doesn't help if you make something just to make something. when you bake or just cook a plain old steak, you have to make it like you're crafting a story or making a song. all of my best meals were made with someone or something in mind."

your cheeks go red again when you realize the very unprompted ramble you went on, a nervous laugh leaving you as you look down at your lap. "sorry, you totally don't have to-" "no, no, i-" the two of you jump a bit at the way you both try to speak first, sheepish smiles tugging at your lips before you go quiet again. the bell above the door jingles and you don't have to look up to know the two of you are alone now. "i like hearing about that sort of stuff. i really only hear about it when i'm here with you and it's..nice. different." your heart soars and you can only hope that mike can't somehow feel or hear it, trying to give him a warm smile without saying something you'll regret. you get up from your seat with a when he checks his watch, knowing that's code for 'i need to go' even before he stands. you're almost sure he'll leave without saying anything which you are simultaneously grateful for and hoped he wouldn't do, already busying yourself with some other menial task. "hey."

you look up almost as soon as he speaks, seeing the smile tugging at his lips and not able to contain your own. "save those leftovers for me. i hope it still tastes like you were trying to make it for me when i get back." he says, a smug look in his eyes as your lips part a bit in shock. you try to call out to him before he jogs out to his car, taking off accordingly.

-> ta da its done! :D &lt;-

this was honestly less romantic than i wanted it to be but i promise that my brain is racked with thoughts of him literally EVERY DAY so mayhaps i can write something else that's more up to par one of these days

but thank yall for reading! :D i haven't been able to pump out a oneshot like this for a while and it felt good to write something longer than a couple of paragraphs, i have missed this account sm 🐺💗 love yall and i hope that you all are having a fantastic day!

[soft-girl-musings]

Perks of Being a Wallflower

Jake Lockley x plus size fem!Reader

cross-posted to ao3

tags: rated T for thirsty jake, author does not dance but saw it on the tv once (i'm mostly kidding), mustachioed jake jumpscare (tagging for the haters), no use of Y/N

wc: 1.9k

fic summary: For Jake, a night on the town means sticking to the background, listening for signs of trouble. That all changes when he sees you at the dance hall.

A/N: still on the jake train and I am making it everyone's problem. just wanted to preface by saying, as a curvy girlie, i recognize that plus size folk are not a monolith. so everything in this fic is based on my own experience, etc. enjoy!

----------

Jake likes to keep his intel hotspots in rotation. 

Mondays and Wednesdays he'll head to the diner after a day in the cab, refueling and checking in with his network.

Tuesdays and Thursdays he'll hit the bars. Weekends are mostly for driving.

But Fridays? Fridays are for dancing.

Jake's guilty pleasure is scoping out the dance hall. The clubs have their appeal, but there's something timeless about the hole in the wall he’d discovered a while back. Nothing special, just a cozy ballroom with a bar, tables lifted on a platform framing ¾ of the room and turning the dance floor into an inverse stage.

Tonight he nurses a beer in the corner, listening to a couple of seedy characters describe some suspicious activity at a warehouse he'd been tailing. But he hasn't caught much of their conversation. Truth be told, he's a bit distracted tonight.

Because of you.

He'd seen you come in with four other people, two couples by the look of it. He'd been immediately taken by you: while some patrons came to dance in jeans and t-shirts, you'd dressed to impress. He'd shamelessly raked his eyes over your form, generous curves hugged by the bodice of your dress that trailed down over your ample hips. You walked with a timid sway, the movement inevitable even as you drew your arms about yourself, settling into your seat with care at a table clear across the room from him.

As much as he's tried to fight it, his attention always drifts back to you: poised and pretty, eyes scanning the room as one couple, then another leaves you for the Latin-dance-of-the-week group lesson hosted like clockwork every Friday. The instructor drones on, but Jake is zeroed in on you: all softness and warmth, criminally tucked away from the rest of the fun.

The warehouse can wait.

__________

You don’t consider yourself the kind of girl someone crosses the room for.

That’s probably why you don’t notice the determined stranger making his way across the crowded dance floor, eyes trained on you as he adjusts his cap with a smirk.

You’re taking another sip of your overpriced cocktail when you hear an unfamiliar voice below you.

“Not a fan of the rumba?”

You finally register the man standing by the corner of your table. He’s handsome, you have to admit, his dark features highlighting kind brown eyes, creased from his almost too-eager smile. When you realize he’s talking to you, your words are still slow to come out.

But he doesn’t miss a beat. “It’s the mustache, isn’t it?” He grins sheepishly, dragging a palm across his lower face. “Knew it’d skeeve some people out, but I thought I’d give it a go.”

“No,” you say too quickly for your own liking, “It’s, ah– nice. Suits you.”

You’re met with a cheeky grin as he steps closer, eyes half-lidded as he leans in. “I’m Jake. Nice to meet a friendly face.”

You eye him warily, wondering what his angle could be. A quick glance around the room confirms there’s only so many unattached women surrounding the dance floor. You sigh internally. The game is always the same: keep them entertained until the girls they really want to talk to come back from the bar, or the bathroom, or stray just far enough from the guys they arrived with.

Might as well play along. 

Settling back into your seat, you tell him your name. His grin widens as he echoes it with something bordering reverence, and you bite your cheek to keep from smiling too wide.

Jake props one elbow on the table, looking up at you. Seems like he’s not going anywhere for a while.

“I gotta know– you not a fan of the rumba?”  He asks again, staring up at you dreamily. You don't catch it, your eyes flitting between him and the dance floor. The lesson is over, and couples spread out to dance independently.

“Hm? Oh, um– it’s alright,” you say with a shrug, arms wrapping around your middle again. “Just not a dancing night for me.” 

Truth be told, it’s been ages since anyone’s invited you to dance. You’ve contented yourself with watching, although something deep inside aches for someone to ask you to–

"Dance with me."

You raise an eyebrow, struck by his bluntness. "I'm sorry?"

He leans in, both arms now resting on the table. "Dance with me, doll." His grin widens as he drinks you in. Your cheeks heat under his gaze, and you almost believe the admiration behind his eyes.

You press your lips together and look back to the crowd. "No thanks."

"I promise I don't bite," he teases, baring his teeth for effect. The slight gap in his smile catches your eye and you look away again. He's definitely a charmer.

"I…" you trail off, searching for an excuse but find you're hesitant to give it. 

Your self-sabotaging streak wins out. "Sorry, I have to keep the table for my friends." You nod toward the couples you came with, each person settled in the arms of their partner as they stumble through the rumba on their own. Your frown deepens; it does look fun.

Jake hums and props his head on one hand. "Don't tell me you only tagged along to watch their purses? Not the best of friends," he adds, critique mixed with sympathy.

You almost tell him that this wasn't the plan, you were meant to have a date tonight. A date who suddenly couldn't make it once your friend had caved and sent him a picture of you– a snapshot you'd both hoped wouldn't "fatfish" but was flattering enough to entice him to commit. Clearly he didn't.

You consider telling him everything, so lost in thought you don't realize he's been saying your name. He calls you once more, and you snap back to the present, tearing your eyes away from the dance floor.

"Sorry, what was that?"

As you speak, Jake walks around the table until he's closer to your side. He holds out his hand.

"C'mon, one dance." He asks again, angling his head to catch your eye. "Please?"

The last of your resolve absolutely crumbles at the way his voice softens with every word. As if you have something he wants. As if you could reject him and make it sting. 

Oh, what the hell.

"...Alright. One dance." 

You didn't think he could smile any wider, but he does– tossing his cap onto the table and trailing a hand through his thick black curls, he's all crow's feet and smile lines as you accept his hand.

Jake weaves between dancing pairs with you in tow, until you reach the middle of the floor. Your eyes dart around at the couples surrounding you, but a gentle touch under your chin brings your attention back to him.

"Just focus on me, yeah?" His voice is still soft, keeping you grounded in the eye of the busy dance floor. You nod, letting out a shaky breath.

"Right, so–" Jake clasps your right hand and raises it to chin level. He moves your left hand to cradle his shoulder, and places his right hand on your shoulder blade. It takes everything in him not to squeeze the flesh under his palm; you're just as warm and soft as he'd thought you'd be.

He talks you through the basics, how to time your steps and the flow of each movement. Every so often, he’ll lift your chin again, since you keep looking at your feet to keep up.

You catch on quicker than you’d expected. Even though your cheeks are blazing, you feel yourself loosen up– your body relaxing, your hips swaying a bit more freely. 

Jake can tell: he’s never short of praise and encouragement, and has to remember his own advice to stop himself from watching your hips the whole time.

"Alright," he warns, "here's something a little tricky-"

As soon as you feel his hand flex, you know what to do. You step out and deftly spin under his arm, hips swaying with a cheeky flourish for effect.

Jake barks a laugh of surprise, arms settling back into place as you complete the step.

You let yourself crack a smile. “You third wheel enough of these dance lessons, you’re bound to pick some things up.”

“No kidding,” he affirms, resuming an easy rhythm for you both. You’d think he was born with that grin on his face, the way it hasn’t faltered since he introduced himself.

One song bleeds into another, but neither of you notice. Instead, you draw closer together, your frame more relaxed and your heart racing. With every beat, you fight back the budding intoxication of the moment. Because this can't be real; this can't be something that lasts. No matter how many praises he showers, winks he offers, or lingering brushes against your hips, shoulders, seemingly anywhere he can touch you, you know you won't be hearing from Jake once you leave this dance floor. That's how this always goes down.

The song ends and you both slow to a stop. Slightly breathless, your hands trail up to Jake’s shoulders, thumbs tracing the fabric there as you work up the courage to ask one last question.

"So… is this the part where you go back to your friends and tally up who got the big girl to believe you were interested?"

Jake's brows knit together, his hands pressed to your shoulder blades to hold you steady. "I don't-"

"Oh please, you don't have to pretend. I survived high school, I can take it." You smirk, worrying your lip to keep your disappointment at bay. This was a nice fantasy, but you know how this ends.

The band starts to play a slower tune, and his eyes meet yours. In a flash of flexed arms and footwork, you’re suddenly looking up at him, body tilted back as he dips you. A cheeky grin is plastered on his flushed features.

"Doll, you misunderstand." He draws you back up, bringing you cheek to cheek as the stubble of his warm face scratches your skin. He continues, voice low and close to your ear:

"We're dancin' because it'd be criminal to leave such a pretty wallflower unplucked all night." He starts to sway in time to the music, still holding you. An invitation to stay, to do this all again.

You lean back; his rapt attention is trained on you like before, the warmth in his brown eyes seeping into your cheeks. Your face blossoms into the widest smile, your soft angles catching the light and making you look downright radiant. 

"That's… so corny." And you laugh, a rich, uninhibited sound pouring from your lips until tears nearly spill down your cheeks. 

Jake takes it all in– the vision that you are. His hand trails down to the softness at the small of your back. The way you quake from laughter sends a thrill up his spine, and he chuckles in turn. If he wasn’t holding you, he swears he’d be a little weak in the knees.

You rest your forehead against his shoulder as you calm down. “What’s one more dance?” You breathe, letting yourself move in time with the music.

Jake bites his lip and nods, taking your hand again. “Thought you’d never ask, doll.”

With a flick of the wrist he spins you out, eliciting another laugh from you as he pulls you back in.

The warehouse can definitely wait: his night's going to be spent drawing that sweet sound from your lips as long as you'll let him.

----------

A/N: when I say "brainrot," i mean i couldn't sleep until i set this gd thing to publish (don't ask me what time)

huge shoutout to @hon3yboy @chrissymodi-frost and @mrsnadeem for letting me ramble in your DMs about dancer!Jake, all my love my darlings <3

addtl tag list: @lunar-ghoulie @shadystarlightgentlemen @casa-boiardi

tysm for reading!

[sunshine-daisies-library]

Request for John b routledge: reader and John b slow dancing while talking about their future together.

older | john b. routledge x fem!reader

summary: you and john b are the only ones that remain on the dance floor. the both of you can't help but reminisce on the past and look towards the future.

warnings: she/her pronoun usage, mentions of drinking and weed, partying

You weren’t sure how much time had passed by since you started swaying in John B’s arms. All you knew was that Sarah left a little after midnight with Kiara following suit, and Pope and Cleo went home soon after. JJ, ever the partier, continued through rounds of drinks and chasers until he ultimately ended up passed out on the couch. However, you and John B. remained awake, dancing along to the soft music playing from JJ’s speaker. You were grateful JJ was too far gone to complain that you connected your phone to his speaker and played something calmer for the end of the night. 

“What’s on your mind, pretty girl?” John B. whispered softly in your ear, his hand just barely grazing your hip. 

“Nothin’” you hummed. You allowed your fingers to loosen to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. The mere sensation sent shivers down John B’s spine, delightful and exciting all at once. 

John B. pulled away to twirl you, your giggles filling the air and drowning out the soft melody playing in the background. “Don’t lie to me, y/n,” he says with a chuckle. The conversation was light, no harm or accusatory tones being displayed. He was merely curious about what was going on in that little head of yours. “You can talk to me, always.” 

“I know,” you relent, joining back together with him. “I’m just…content, is all.” 

John B. raised an eyebrow at you, a smirk dancing along his lips. The smell of cheap beer could be smelled from his breath, and his corny Hawaiian shirt reeked of weed. You weren’t any better, though, with your bloodshot eyes and racing heart from one shot after the other with JJ. Your Converse were matted with dirt and spilled White Claws, squeaking against the beer can littered floors of his living room. It was your perfect paradise, despite everything working against the two of you. Anything was paradise with John B. and your best friends at your side. 

You finally gave into his magnetic stare, his eyes your weakness. “I don’t wanna get older,” you sighed. “I don’t want to lose all of this.” You gestured to his small shack, complete with its unwashed dishes in the sink and sticky counter covered in God knows what. 

John B. could only laugh softly at your confession. “So you want JJ to stay on his drunk ass on our couch for eternity?” he joked, swiftly dodging your punch. 

“Not that,” you whined, but you couldn’t stop your heart from flipping at the way he called this place “ours.” That is what you didn’t want to lose. “I don’t want to get all old and wrinkly to a point where you don’t wanna love me. Or too old to go on adventures with the group and dive for random shit that tourons leave behind. Or too–” 

“Slow down, n/n,” John B. cut you off. He reached for the sides of your face, his thumbs grazing your cheeks to wipe away the tears that began to form. “None of that is gonna happen,” he reassured you. “Yeah, we’re gonna get old and gross, but that’s not going to stop us from doing stupid shit.” You choked out a wet laugh at his wording. “We’re still going to take the boat out any chance we get. We’re still going to try and fail to prevent JJ from cliff diving. We’re still going to go on adventures together, and we are still going to be in love, no matter how old we get, you hear me?”

You nodded, but a pout still remained on your lips. John B dropped one hand to grab yours and kiss it softly. “We’re gonna get old,” he whispered. “And you’re gonna be my girl forever. You’re gonna wear that cocaine colored wedding dress and walk down the aisle, and I’m going to cry like a baby through it all.” 

John B. pulled you in and began swaying again. Like clockwork, you rested your cheek against his shoulder. “I’m going to get a job, and we’re going to buy a house on a hill so we don’t have to worry about our basement flooding after hurricanes. We’re going to have three kids -no, four- and you can take care of them in that house.” 

“Like a housewife?” you snorted, shaking your head in disbelief. 

John B.  dipped you carefully, a boyish smile on his face. “Well, you can do whatever you’d like,” he reasoned. “If you don’t want that, we can be a team and raise them together. I can..can be a mechanic or engineer, and you can be a teacher. Or nurse, or doctor, or whatever you want. I just want you to be happy and never stress.” 

“We can cross that bridge when we get to it,” you decided, tears dried and frown replaced by a smile. “I guess getting older isn’t too bad, then.”

“With you?” John B. questioned as the song came to an end. “It’ll be worth it all.” 

[kaeyachi]

Kaeya visits the Dawn Winery... a lot.

He has multiple reasons and excuses that change every time he is greeted by Adelinde.

An investigation on the Darknight hero.

A mission he received from Jean.

A short detour from his patrols.

One time, all he did was ask for a glass of wine before he went his merry way.

Another, he spent a bit more time within the building, creating jam with Adelinde.

Diluc occasionally catches the man approaching the winery from a distance. If he was lucky enough to evade Kaeya's attention, he would send Adelinde to talk to the cavalry captain in his stead. As for the other times, Kaeya would glance up to meet his eyes from where the cavalry captain was standing by the entrance - thru his tinted windows somehow. The younger man's eyes would be glinting mischievously, his ever-present smirk slowly growing on his face.

"Gotcha," his face seemed to imply.

Diluc simply huffs in frustration before leaving his room to spend a couple of moments bantering with the other.

Diluc knows how frequent Kaeya's visits were. He fully expects at least 2 visits in a week...

...The idea that Kaeya frequently visits but never stays... leaves a bitter taste in Diluc's mouth.

Kaeya himself had said that Dawn Winery was his home. If he thought so, why was he always doling out excuses just to be here?

Doesn't Kaeya know he is welcome any time?

Does Kaeya know he could stay?

.

.

.

Like clockwork, Kaeya visits the Dawn Winery.

This time, Kaeya manages to meet his eyes- thru the tinted windows somehow.

Diluc huffs, leaves his room, and meets the other by the entrance.

Kaeya tries to give an excuse for his visit.

Diluc interrupts by saying "you don't need a reason to come home".

.

.

.

'Gotcha' Diluc thinks. He feels as if he won something upon being met by Kaeya's stunned face and hearing Adelinde's giggles at the background.

[hederasgarden]

Flirting For Dummies - Part 1

Summary: Turns out the crush you have on one of the pilots that frequents the Hard Deck isn’t quite so unrequited. You’re just bad at recognizing when someone’s flirting with you. Good thing Jake’s happy to help you understand how interested he really is. 

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x F!Reader

Rating: General. The second part will include explicit sexual content and be 18+ only. This part features Hangman being a cocky little shit, a shy reader (inspired by @thewhiskersonkittens​​​ post asking for Jake with a shy reader), a misunderstanding and some kissing. 

Word Count: 2.1K

A/N: This is my first of hopefully many Top Gun fics. Please let me know if you enjoy this. Reblogs and comments feed the muse. 

The pencil is clutched firmly between your teeth as you highlight another important passage in your book. It’s still early enough that the background sound from the bar is at a steady hum instead of the loud, chaotic energy you know it’ll morph into soon. The golden hours between lunch and the evening rush are the best time to study at the Hard Deck, it’s less stuffy than the library or the studio apartment you rent, plus you get free fries here. That’s hard to beat.

“Almost done?” One of the other bartenders, Becky, asks as she passes by you on her way to the kitchen. 

“Almost,” you respond. Technically there are two more chapters you need to read but with only 15 minutes until your shift starts there’s no chance you can make that happen. You don’t really care anyway, you’re tired of studying. What you need is a break, something more than sitting alone on your couch watching true crime documentaries with a pint of ice cream. 

With a defeated sigh you close your book and lean back to stretch, letting out a startled little gasp when you realize the seat beside you is no longer empty, but taken up by the handsome pilot who you’ve spent entirely too much time thinking about. He’s become a regular at the bar over the last few months, coming in like clockwork on Thursdays and Fridays. Sometimes he’s alone, just ordering dinner and a drink though mostly he comes in with a group of other people wearing the same service khakis to play pool.

You don't know his actual name, just his call sign - Hangman. He's friendly, tipping generously and has a habit of winking at you when you dropped off his drinks. That made you incredibly nervous even if you did like it. You know it doesn’t mean anything… He’s charming to all the bartenders, even succeeding in making the unflappable Becky blush once.

Penny warned you the pilots were the worst of the bunch but the others didn’t make you nearly as nervous as Hangman did. You liked watching him from afar, aware of how his type operated. They didn’t go for girls like you. You weren’t pretty like Becky or funny like Janet, the other bartender you often worked with. 

Having his full attention focused on you throws you for a loop. “What?” You stammer, completely missing whatever he just said. 

“I asked what you are reading about?” Hangman repeats, leaning into your space to see the title of your textbook. 

He’s so close that you can smell his cologne, a potent mix of sandalwood and a sweet citrusy undercurrent. When your mouth opens to respond all that escapes is a uhhhh sound. He smirks, pressing into your space and laying his arm along the back of the bar stool. You meet his beautiful green eyes for just a second before you clear your throat and look away. 

“Coastal Ecology,” you finally manage to force out. 

“You’ll have to speak up sweetheart,” Hangman says, tapping on the wooden bar. “It’s loud in here.” 

It’s actually not but he still leans in and warmth sweeps up your chest into your throat. You hate the way the stupid pet name makes your stomach swoop. Normally you despise all the honey, baby, or darlins you get from the men at the bar, but there is something in the way he says it that’s different. You want him to call you that and mean it, even though you know he never would. 

“I’m studying coastal ecology,” you repeat, turning to look at him fully, buoyed by a brief swell of confidence.

“Smart girl, huh?” He asks, grinning. You sit up straighter at his praise. “Why are you doing it at a bar? Hoping for some attention?” 

His words curdle that pleasantly warm feeling in your chest. ​​

“I work here,” you defend, sliding off the bar stool to put distance between the two of you. “I’m in grad school and the owner lets me study before my shift.” 

The urge to continue and over-explain is hard to resist. You owe him nothing so cut yourself off and focus on putting your things away, but when you reach for your book he rests his hand on it to stop you from taking it. You stare at the large ring he wears on one finger, not wanting to meet his gaze. After a moment he sighs and draws his hand back. You spot an annoyed, almost confused look on his face, which quickly dissipates replaced by a bland smile. 

“Ok then. Guess we’ll take a round of beers. Over at the pool tables,” he says, stepping back.

It’s not your shift for another 10 minutes so you pass on the order to Becky and go hide in the back office until you need to clock in. Despite your best efforts you somehow find yourself looking over to the pool table and meeting the blonde man’s eyes. He doesn’t smirk like you expect. There’s a little furrow between his brows instead. 

"He's hot," Becky says, coming to lean against the bar next to you while you slice up a lime. “Probably a jackass but he’d show you a good time.”

"What?" You ask, embarrassed to be caught looking.

"Mr. Tall Blonde and Built," she indicates, pointing to Hangman. "All pilots are cocky, especially that bunch.”

"Bob is sweet," you defend, thinking of the timid but endearing pilot who always stammers his way through talking to Janet and you. 

"Bob is an outlier and if he wasn't so into Janet I'd love to take him home and sit on that pretty face. He looks like he’d be so eager. Like one of those golden retriever types.” She sighs wistfully. 

"Oh my god, Becky," you chastise, looking over at Bob, half embarrassed on his behalf. He’s staring dreamily at Janet as she cleans off a high top. He really was adorable. 

“Just be careful,” Becky says seriously.

“I don’t think I’m on anyone’s radar here,” you tell her with a sad little laugh.

“Thought you were supposed to be smart, kiddo,” she says, bumping your shoulder and grinning. “Ohhh, I spot a cell phone on the bar. Gotta ring that bell,” she tells you, taking off towards a poor unsuspecting businessman.

✥

Friday is even crazier than Thursday, the bar is packed to the gills. Although you won’t admit it, you catch yourself searching through the crowd for a familiar face. For Hangman. There’s a bunch of military types hanging around the pool table but he’s not with them. It’s stupid to feel disappointed, it’s not like he even knows you exist, not really. It’s best your crush becomes nothing more than a way to occupy your mind with what-ifs and silly scenarios. He’s probably off with that beautiful brunette girl you saw hanging off his arm yesterday. 

“It’s almost 7,” Penny says, interrupting your thoughts. “Go ahead and clock out before things get too crazy.”

“I don’t mind staying to help,” you offer. 

She waves you off. “You closed last night and should have left two hours ago. You’re good. Go.”

“Alright,” you agree, untying your apron, and retrieving your purse from the back room. Trying to leave the bar is like swimming upstream, you’re fighting past throngs of people who are drunk or on their way to be. By the time you break free the cool air coming off the ocean feels wonderful. You close your eyes and take in a clarifying breath, enjoying the peaceful moment. Maybe you’ll sit out on your balcony and read tonight. 

“Got off late today, huh?”

You jump, clutching your purse to your chest at the sound of the familiar voice. Speak of the Devil. Hangman pushes off from the wall he’s leaning against, running a hand through his perfectly styled honey blonde hair as he approaches you. The tousled effect makes him look even more handsome. He’s out of his Navy uniform, wearing jeans and a light gray sweater that clings to the curve of his biceps.

“Becky said you got off at 5 pm today.” He taps the watch on his wrist. 

Was he talking to you? You glance behind you but no one is there. 

“One of the bartenders showed up late and I didn’t want them to be short-staffed.” You respond, trying to process why he’s talking to you. Was he waiting for you? “Penny was worried and I oh…” you trail off when your back connects with the brick wall.

Hangman grins, head cocked to the side while he continues to stalk towards you. You lick your lips nervously and look past him. Was this some kind of joke? There are a handful of people milling about, sharing a smoke or escaping the crowd, but they’re all caught up in their conversations. No one is looking at either of you. 

“Gotta tell you, honey, it’s a real blow to the ego when a girl doesn’t flirt back with a guy like me.”

“What?” You ask sharply, looking back at him confused. “You were flirting with me? When?”

“Ouch,” he says, clutching his chest in mock pain. “You know how to wound a man, sweetheart. I was trying to be charming but I see I’m gonna need the direct approach here. I want to take you out. Tomorrow night. 7 pm.” He pauses, waiting for you to respond but you just stare dumbly at him, mind blank and body buzzing with nerves. “This is the part where you say yes,” he prods, stepping even closer.

You stare into his green eyes. “I don’t even know your real name,” you finally blurt out.

He chuckles. “It’s Jake.”

He’s in your space now, palm resting beside your head. Close enough to kiss, your mind supplies. The thought makes goosebumps break out over your skin and you let out a shuddery breath. 

“No hard feelings if I’m not wanted but I have it on good authority I am,” he whispers. “I need you to say it so there’s no misunderstandings.”

“Yes.” You offer him a soft smile, feeling shy and giddy.

“Yes what?” He prods. 

“Yes, I want to go out on a date with you.” 

“That’s good,” he hums, inching forward until his lips are a hair's breadth away from yours. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, waiting. He smiles. “I can’t do all the work here, sweetheart. Help me out.”

Emboldened by his words and the way he looks at you, you find the courage to tilt your head up and meet his lips. He takes control of the kiss immediately, one hand sliding along the curve of your hip. The other cups the side of your face. You moan, curling your fingers into the soft fabric of his sweater. For a moment you forget where you are, letting Jake’s weight pin you to the wall as his kiss intensifies. 

He parts your mouth with his, the sensation of his tongue against yours making you quake and him groan. A sharp whistle snaps you back into reality and you draw away, shaking and overwhelmed. Jake’s a little breathless too but he recovers pretty soon, looking over his shoulder at two younger men. Both are in uniform and they pale under the dark look he sends them, scurrying back inside. You shrink down, hands coming to cover your face. Your skin tingles, warming with embarrassment and the aftermath of the kiss.

“None of that,” Jake says, pulling your hands down. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip, making a pleased sound. “No hiding that beautiful face from me. You’re cute when flustered.”

You look away, his attention is too much. 

“It’s ok.” He rises to his full height, shielding you from anyone looking. The hand at your waist disappears, but he rubs the apple of your cheek gently with his thumb until you find the courage to look back at him. “That was nice wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” you agree.

“Come on, let me walk you to your car.”

You follow his lead into the parking lot. When you stop at your beat up old Honda he grasps your wrist and pulls you back to face him. He brushes another kiss over your lips. Your whole body tingles in response.

"Tomorrow night. 7," he reminds you, tapping your nose lightly before stepping back. 

He’s a few feet away when you realize he hasn’t said where you’re supposed to be. “Wait!” You call out. 

“Miss me already?” He questions, amused. 

“No, that’s not what I meant,” you stammer, embarrassed. “Where are we meeting?” 

“I know, you’re fun to tease. Check your phone,” he suggests, waiting as you rummage through your purse. There’s a single text for an unsaved number with the location for an upscale gastropub. 

“How…”

“Janet sold you out. I got your number and she got Bob’s. Seemed like a fair deal,” he says with a wink. “See you real soon, sweetheart.”

✥

Part 2 is here.

[multifariousqueer]

Feels so Good|Shuri x Reader

Summary: You thought you could party without repercussions but sadly, you were mistaken.

Request: can you please write #128(bend over and spr3@ad your legs) on the prompt list?

Word Count: 0.9k

Pairing: Shuri x black!reader

A/n: When I saw this request I was a bit hesitant to write it but I think it came out good. If you like this one, request some more prompts from the list.

Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT, I MEAN IT'S PURE FILTH, cvm sh@ring, dom!Shuri, drinking, light yelling and angst, sp@nking, nicknames: princess, daddy; return of the vibranium str@p, overstim, heavy explicit language, br@t!reader, d!rty talk, e@ting out, I think that's it

It was like a scene out of Euphoria, you were swinging and grinding on your friends while some song was playing in the background. Shuri had invited you to a nightclub and you brought some of your friends and even bought out the bartender to make you free drinks all night. 

What Shuri hadn’t planned for was you dancing on every surface and everyone you knew; your friends hyping you up and dancing with/on you didn’t exactly help Shuri’s case. She was the type to get jealous easily but she’d never show it unless you crossed a line and that you did:

“Heyyy omg it would be so fun to get on a table and dance! C’mon Guys!!!” You shouted, tipsy.

“YESSSS OMG YES” Your friends shouted.

“Not so fast, princess.” Shuri said, grabbing your arm before you could go anywhere.

“Hey let go of me!” You said slightly slurring your words.

“Stop trying to do stupid shit or I’lll take you home and punish you.” Shuri said in your ear.

“What are you going to do?” You said with a smirk.

“Okay that’s it.” Shuri downed the rest of her drink, “lets go” 

Shuri grabbed your arm and ushered you out.

“Hey my friends are back in there.” You whined.

“Griot, call an uber big enough for Y/n’s friends.” Shuri spoke

“Yes, princess.” Griot responded, almost like clockwork

Once Shuri got into the car with you, she gave you a look that could kill you. You gulped and stayed silent for the rest of the ride. 

When you got back to the palace, Shuri cornered you.

“Y/n, what the fuck was that?” She said, angrily. “I mean I invite YOU to a nightclub, not your friends but I let that slide; I let you dance like a slut with your friends that I barely know and I fucking bought you drinks for the entire night and THIS is how you repay me?” Shuri said, leaning in and getting in your face.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know it bothered you so much.” You said, sobering up a bit.

“Well it did. AND ON TOP OF THAT, YOU TAUNTED ME WHEN I WAS TRYING TO HANDLE THE SITUATION AS DELICATELY AS POSSIBLE.” She yelled.

“I’m sorry.” You said. You felt about 2 inches tall right now. You knew you guys had a height difference but now it feels so apparent.

“You’re gonna be sorry in the morning.” Shuri said.

“Wha-” You started.

 “Someone needs to put this pussy in its place. Bend over and spread your legs,” Shuri ordered.

“Yes ma’am.” You complied. You knew you were in no position to argue back.

Shuri smacked your ass.

“You’re walking a thin line Y/n you know that, right?” Shuri asked, kneading your ass.

You were a bit caught off guard.

“Um, yes.” You answered, a bit confused.

Shuri delivered another harsh smack to your ass. You felt your juices pooling but Shuri had discarded your panties when she bent you over.

“You know what to call me and don’t make me have to extend your punishment.” Shuri said

“Sorry, daddy.” You said.

“Good girl. See you’re not just a dumb slut.” Shuri said mockingly.

Even though you knew it wasn’t sincere, it still made you feel happy.

Shuri delivered one last smack before getting on her knees and licking a stripe up your folds. She circled her tongue around your clit before putting it inside your soaked hole.

“Ahhh Shuri, that feels so good.” You said, instantly realizing your mistake.

“That’s it,” She said.

Shuri got up and grabbed her new prototype of a strap. It was huge and looked like it wouldn’t fit. 

“Looks like someone needs a harsher form of punishment.” Shuri said.

“Please daddy, I’ll be good I promise” You pleaded.

“Shut the fuck up and bend over like I told you.” She instructed.

You did as you were told.

“You spoiled little fucking brat. Maybe this will teach you to have some respect.” She said, rubbing the cold metal against your folds and over your clit. You flinched but were quickly shut down by a harsh smack to your ass.

Shuri pushed the strap in and moaned. She programmed it so that it would make her feel the same sensation it was making you feel. You’ve never felt something so big inside of something so small. You moaned as Shuri pushed the strap in and out of you. You felt yourself gripping the strap everytime she pulled out of you.

“You’re so wet and tight, sthandwa.” Shuri said, eyes rolled back in her head and head thrown back.

You moaned and just as the pain seemed to go away, the pleasure came in tenfold. The toy started vibrating inside of you. 

“D-Daddy I’m gonna cum.” You moaned

“Mmmmm cum for daddy, princess.” Shuri said, barely above a whisper.

You came and Shuri followed suit. The waves of pleasure seemed to never stop washing over you. You felt something run down your leg:

“I programmed it so that my juices would come out in you. Shuri explained.

“Mmmmm it feels so good.” You said

You felt Shuri spin you around.

“That was really good.” You said, groggily.

“Yeah it was. I hope you're ready for round two.” Shuri smirked.

Your eyes widened at the comment.

“What?” You said.

“I told you you were getting punished.” Shuri whispered.

Shuri picked you up and whisked you away to the bedroom.

[brightlight-dazzlingeyes]

november with you | kylian mbappé (part iii/iii)

kylian mbappé x original female character [+18]

synopsis: alice has been living in paris for a year, she found a perfect job and a perfect boyfriend in this city, but the cold of november is bringing back old memories she wishes she could forget. warnings: established relationship; smut; domestic fluff; i have never been to france; minors dni.

(this is a sequel to the french exit, but can be read as standalone)

previous chapter | masterlist |

Part III — Put A Little Love On Me

“I've still got so much love hidden beneath this skin.”

Caroline, Alice’s mother, was opening a new store in Paris. The launch party was an intimate event, exclusive to a select few. The venue – adorned with chic, modern decor – screamed sophistication. The store itself was a vision of elegance, filled with racks showcasing Ficher’s incredible designs; you could feel Caroline’s fashion genius in every stitch. Soft jazz music was playing in the background. It was a sight – and sound – to behold.

Alice is wearing the Helen Dress, embodying the essence of sophistication in her mother's brand. Crafted from mesh with thin straps delicately hugging her shoulders, leading to a sensual V-neckline. A front slit and long length, along with the meticulously stitched finish, completed the ensemble.

With an air of femininity and grace, the dress was tailored to Alice's form, transforming her into a living embodiment of her mother's design philosophy. The dress wasn't just clothing; it was a statement, and Alice wore it with the natural confidence of a woman who knows the power of elegance.

Alice had her hands full helping her mother with the event. From organizing the guest list to coordinating with the caterers. At the party, there was a quiet satisfaction exchanged between mother and daughter, an unspoken acknowledgment of a job well done. For Alice, the store opening was an important milestone. The little nods and smiles from her mom were like medals of honor, and Alice cherished them all.

On top of that, this time things seemed different between Caroline Ficher and Fayza Lamari. Even though they have crossed paths on multiple occasions before, the two matriarchs, usually restrained in polite conversation, now seemed to be genuinely interested in each other’s company. For Alice and Kylian, it was almost comical how much their mothers resembled each other personality-wise. They were amusing themselves observing the duo.

“I have to be honest, knowing my mother, I didn’t see that coming.” Kylian points out. “They do have a lot in common. They’re both business women…” He looks contradicted when he says it, as if he can't believe his own words. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy. It’s good that they are friends. I just wasn’t expecting it to be so…”

“Weird.” Alice says, chuckling. 

“Yes, weird.” Kylian smirks. He stops to think for a moment. “It's a good weird, though.”

As Alice continues to watch their friendly interactions, she wishes for a similar acceptance from Fayza. Fayza's politeness towards her was always tinged with a protective edge, as if she was assessing Alice's role in her son's life. Alice understood the maternal instinct; after all, she shared a similar protective shield around her own family. The struggle to let someone new into the inner circle was a sentiment that resonated deeply with her.

But Alice’s family, while protective, had become more lenient with her dating choices. They had reached a point where they valued her happiness over rigid expectations. Yet Fayza seemed to embody a more intense form of protection, making Alice feel uneasy. Like she was walking on a tightrope.

“I want to get used to this.” She says, eyeing the easy vibe between their mothers. “Seeing the two of them like this.”

She doesn't explain why exactly, she figures it's not wise to get too hung up on her relationship with his mom. But like clockwork, Kylian catches the unsaid, giving her a nod that says he gets what she means.

"It's all a matter of time, baby, you'll see," Kylian reassures her, his arm encircling her waist.

His gesture triggers a wave of nostalgia, taking her to another party they attended, not together but still, not far apart. Back then, she had doubts about the possibility of them ever being together like this. The memory feels distant in the past.

A warmth envelops her, contrasting sharply with the uncertainty of that moment. A sense of pride swells up within her – pride in both of them for having faith in their love and creating the beautiful relationship they now share.

alicemwebber

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The slam of the front door echoes through the hallway as Kylian chuckles, his words slightly slurred, "Wow, that was something." They both wore coats over their fancy designer party clothes, the chill of the outside world clashing with the warmth of their home. Closing the door seemed to intensify the effect, and for a moment, they felt even drunker.

They stumble into the living room, still holding glasses of champagne that had miraculously made their way from the party to the cab and finally to the apartment. The soft glow of the lamp highlighted the remnants of the evening – a discarded purse and a pair of high heels.

With a playful grin, Alice plops down on the couch, patting the seat next to her. "Join me."

Kylian obliges and sinks onto the couch beside her. They clink their glasses and the sound echoes in the quiet room.

“To mothers and champagne!” Alice declares, taking a sip and grinning.

"Cheers!" Kylian says, lifting his glass in agreement. “But let’s not talk about mothers anymore.” He has a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Alice raises an eyebrow, a playful smile on her lips. "What should we talk about, then?" She says, teasing him.

Kylian, looking like he was planning something, slowly wraps his hands around the Burberry scarf Alice was wearing and begins to take it off. The smooth, deliberate motion draws a surprised expression from Alice.

The scarf joins their coats on the floor, thrown in the general direction where Alice had discarded her heels and purse, and Kylian continues his mission. His tuxedo jacket, the suit pants – all removed. He’s careful when taking off her dress, still sober enough to understand he’s not allowed to damage this one.

Finally, she’s naked in front of him. It always feels like forever ago, even when he had this view this morning – or every morning. He stares at her, her hair is messy, loose strands framing her beautiful face. He runs his fingers through her hair and lifts her chin, forcing her to look at him.

Kylian is standing in front of the couch, still in his boxers, looking down to her with obvious desire. Alice’s knees go weak as she’s completely at his mercy – and she loves being at this position.

He kneels down in front of her and kisses her roughly, enjoying the taste of expensive champagne on her tongue. Her heart beats faster and he goes on to kiss her neck, then whispering in her ear. “Do you know what I want right now?”

His hand touches her tight and his palm moves up slowly until he reaches a part of her that’s burning for him. Alice gasps and arches her back, her hips moving against his hand. Her breathing is heavy and she lets herself be guided by him. She closes her eyes and moans as Kylian caresses her wetness. 

Kylian takes the time to admire the sight before him – the naked woman on his couch, legs spread open wide while her eyes are closed, lost in pleasure.

She hears him laugh, softly.

“This. Right here.” He says, entering a finger inside of her. “This is what I want.” Another finger. “Everyday.” He pushes it in and out, slowly. “I can’t get you out of my mind, Alice.”

He keeps thrusting his fingers inside her, preparing her to receive him, and her body starts convulsing, she grasps the edge of the sofa and moans loudly. He will never get tired of the noises she makes when she comes. Kylian smiles at the intensity of her reaction.

Still kneeling on the floor, he brings her to his lap. “I’m going to fuck you now.” He promises her, whispering in her ear as he holds her. “Such a good girl.” He praises her, making her blush furiously. “Look at me, baby.” It’s an order, and she obeys.

Her eyes flutter open and Kylian loves how lewd she looks in that moment. He presses his forehead against hers. “You’re mine.”

“Yes!” She says, eyes filled with lust, body flushed with arousal. “‘M yours…”

Kylian grabs her waist and enters her in one swift motion, pounding her hard against the couch. Her head rolls back and she groans; they move together, sweat covering their bodies. He takes her, uses her. They lie together on the living room floor, Kylian lifts her leg over his shoulder and keeps thrusting into her. 

Her arms wrap around his neck and he leans forward to kiss her harshly, but lovingly. Alice struggles against her second orgasm but it doesn’t take long and he follows her.

Their skin is drenched in sweat, mixing their scent. Kylian thinks he would never get tired of seeing her beautiful body underneath him, his cock buried deep inside of her.

When they regain their breath, Alice and Kylian are still sprawled on the floor. They stare up the ceiling, lost in their own thoughts but somehow still connected. The world outside fades away and the only thing on their minds is the certainty that there will be countless moments like this in their future.

[meowzfordayz]

catch

Author’s Note: for the first time in forever, Katsuki gets fluff instead of angst. 🤗😆

catch

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Word Count: ~1,200

CW: explicit language, mild sexual content

Song Inspo: Catch by Brett Young

Collab: Meet Me Where the Sky Touches the Sea hosted by @bbiemilk​

~faqs~

Bakugou Katsuki doesn’t plan to fall in love, and certainly not on a rainy day. Rain sucks. It’s wet, it squelches, is often accommodated by cold, and no matter how diligently he attempts to waterproof himself, he somehow always ends up with at least one wet toe or heel. Not to mention the: accompanying monotonous grey, or even black, that blankets the city making 2pm feel like 7pm; how thunder triggers the yapping of dogs and other such annoyances; and how utterly stupid and cranky and selfish humans become. He may or may not be a part of that latter point — sans stupidity, of course. As for love?

“What is love good for?” he’d barked when Eijirou’d tried to set him up on a blind date.

“Love?” Eijirou’d quirked an eyebrow, “I was just hoping you’d have a bearable time and not blast a hole through the bathroom to escape, and you’re jumping to love?”

“Whatever.”

Because as much as Bakugou Katsuki doesn’t plan to fall in love, he isn’t entirely nor completely against the thought of it. The ideal of it.

The warmth of lips pressed fleetingly to his cheek, his clavicle, his earlobe in the early stirrings of morning. The weight of someone watching over him—of someone to watch over—as he chops vegetables, as they shower before work, as he kneels to tie their shoelaces before they can. The promise of forever in the brightness of their laughter; the possibility of always assuming he can even make them laugh. Because Bakugou Katuski is a closeted romantic, albeit picky duh. So sue him if a date is boring, dull, torturous enough to wreck a restaurant — he’s a Hero, he can pay for the damages hell he can upgrade the decor (besides, he’s gotten better at simply stalking out the front door, cash thrown on the table as a meager offering to make up for ditching midway). What he can’t afford is wasted time. Time wasted on hollow shells of greedy opportunists, on almost-could’ve-would’ve-should’ve-wasn’t, on breaking his soul when his heart and body are already on the line every damn day.

“No date?” he’d sneered at Eijirou when Friday rolled around.

“For me?”

“No, for me. You’ve been sending me on dates like clockwork. I figured you had my social weekend planned out.”

“Ican’tsetupanymoredatesforyou.”

“Don’t mumble shitty hair.”

“I can’t set up any more dates for you.”

“Why fucking not?”

“I can’t!”

“Can’t, or won’t?”

“Both!”

Silence. Katsuki staring blankly at the wall behind Eijirou. Inhale.

“I’m that terrible.”

Mild hardening activated, sympathy in Eijirou’s gaze.

“... yeah.”

Exhale. Rehearsed smirk plastered across his face.

“Love’s good for nothing.”

“No- That isn’t- You’re great! You’re Dynamight! Which means, you’re just, uh… intimidating?!”

“I’m hard to please.”

“Um…”

“Whatever.”

And then Bakugou Katsuki falls in love, and on a rainy day at that.

He wouldn’t tell you himself that it was love at first sight, but for the prickly, hard headed, soft hearted man, interest at first sight is pretty darn close. Your attire catches him off guard, then your wave, and then your smile. Your umbrella with its red and white hearts and pink background; your knee high purple rainboots; and the tips of your fingers peeking out from under the sleeves of your sweater and curling inward — evidently trying to insulate your hands. A smudge of color amid a nameless day of black umbrellas, black rainboots, grey sky, and colorless rain.

“They make gloves for that,” he grunts as you wave.

“I’d rather numb fingers than wet feet,” you snort.

“Wet feet?”

“You’re standing in a puddle.”

“Shit!”

Shameless peals of laughter fall from your lips as you watch the grumpy man lift his feet in disgust, telltale squish deepening your satisfaction as his arms cross, unamused scowl meeting your smile.

“Your smile…”

“My smile?”

Shit. Bakugou Katsuki never accidentally says aloud what he’d intended to keep to himself.

“Yeah. Your smile. It’s there.”

“It is there!”

“You’re mocking me,” his eyes narrow.

“Mhm.”

“Are you going anywhere?” he mutters.

“Excuse me?”

“The crosswalk. You’ve basically missed the light.”

You basically missed it too. Idiot.

“Maybe I’m happy in the rain,” you twirl once, twice, three times, kicking up tiny droplets as you go.

“On the corner of an intersection,” Katsuki can’t bring himself to step away, hem of his pants dampening.

“Maybe this is my favorite intersection,” you giggle, leaning onto the stoplight pole, “I’m dizzy.”

“So you don’t have anywhere to be.”

“Maybe right here is where I’m needed.”

Is this flirting?

“You’re dumb.”

This sucks.

“And you’re rude,” you huff.

I suck.

“You’ll get sick,” he hisses.

“You’re worried about me?”

“We just met.”

“So let’s meet again.”

Do they really think that cheesy ass shit works?

—

“Are you actually happy in the rain?” he murmurs, turning his head to glance at you, eyelids drooping, comforter halfway down his chest, a leg hanging off the bed.

“Eh,” you shrug, comforter snug beneath your chin.

“Are you cold?” Let me hold you.

“No?” Liar.

“I’m hot.” Idiot.

“Yes, Katsuki, yes you are.” I’ll take it.

“You know what I mean.”

“I want to hear you say it.” Shit.

“I could make you hot too?” I. D. I. O. T.

“Are you offering sex or cuddles?” you grin, eyebrows waggling.

“I’m sacrificing my sublime heat for your abysmal temperature regulation.”

“How do you feel about the rain?”

“I hate it.”

Even as he places a gentle palm on your shoulder, faint frown tugging at his mouth. Oof and Katsuki! filling his bedroom when he unceremoniously crushes you into his side. Even as satisfaction wells in his stomach while you glare up at him, your cool limbs wrapping around his overheated body, colder fingertips and toes digging eagerly into his affection. Even as you flick his forehead, grumbling about You messed up the comforter and I was fine and You’re so sticky — only to bury your nose into his pectoral, small sigh raising goosebumps on his skin as he retucks the comforter in. Even as he resigns himself to his fate of not moving a muscle, waking up in a puddle of sweat, and potentially being ~forced to sleep in because your Not yet, sleep, shh is too adorable and heart aching to reject. Even as he contemplates his answer I hate it, realization thickening the lump in his throat, Unless you’re twirling in it. Even as he swallows that lump, its emotion and rawness coating his soul — protecting his soul.

Even as he touches his thumb to your jaw, “Hey.”

If you’re there.

Even as you blink sleepily, reaching for his thumb, “Hey what?”

Then how could I hate it?

Even as he holds his breath, “I love you.”

Even as you hum quietly, knowing smile releasing his fear, “I love you.”

Bakugou Katsuki doesn’t plan to fall in love, and certainly not on a rainy day — even as he falls into you, puddles and all.

[ascelhire]

[ID1: Drawing of Aide, a dnd OC that belongs to octopodian, on a dark blue abstract background with red lines. Aide is a bronze robot with clockwork traits, a singular bright red eye and red wire like veins flowing through their limbs. They are wearing khaki cargo pants with patches, ruby rings, and a teardrop necklace. It has faint skull-like makeup on its face, and ai is flipping off the screen with a smirk. In the top left corner are three small cameo doodles of Gimble, Dewey, and Izzy- members who are part of Aide's party. In the bottom left corner is the artist's signature which reads "ascelhire" in all caps. /End ID1]

[ID2: Mini animated sprites of Aide and Smelt, two robot OCs that belong to octopodian. Aide is a bronze clockwork robot and Smelt is a white and blue robot with a fish for a heart. Both sprites are bobbing up and down to simulate a walking motion. /End ID2]

o/ !!! my gift for @octopodian as part of the @mesevents gift exchange YIPPEE !!! :D

[msookyspooky]

Okay Spooky, okay. I see your request (and I love it and can't wait to get crackin' 😈) and I raise you, Severen's mate straddling him to help him file down his harder to reach teeth.

(Only if you're up for it of course. ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥)

(I swear to god if I was better at editing; every gif would be of him with those sharp ass teeth like that one IG account made the Kas!Vamp!Eddie scenepack everyone is using on tiktok 😩 Like plz show me ur ways talented one 🥲)

To anyone confused; the original script to Near Dark had Severen with sharp teeth from filing them down with a drill. Caleb originally was supposed to wake up from turning/being kidnapped to the buzzing of a drill while Severen gave him a smirk full of shark like teeth during the drilling process and a wink.

Severen's S/O Filing his Teeth

"Ow, sssshhit-" You heard him hissing behind you while that familiar buzzing filtered through the background.

You turned around in your seat to look at him sitting in the back near the plug in. The drills cord stretched while he was trying to look at his reflection on the nearest mirrored surface.

Everyone else lounged around, completely ignoring him as Jesse drove you all to the next state over. You all had just woken up about an hour before and hadn't even hunted yet. Eager to get across State lines after you all may or may not have blown up a local police station the night before in the small town you were going through.

"You uh. Are you okay back there?" You hesitantly asked as Severen shut off the filing drill for a moment. Swiping his thumb over his full bottom lip he just cut as a tiny trail of blood escaped it. You felt your insides stir at the scent.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine, baby. Damn thing 'el heal in a minute." He grumbled before turning it back on.

"Need help?"

"Nope, I got it Darlin'." He was a bit short with you, that petname being thrown in just to prevent you from being offended as he was clearly irritated.

You saw he had his front teeth done. Sharp, filed down points where his human teeth used to be. They grew back to their regular shape every day and like clockwork he had to file them down again for the night. You started noticing a pattern of him cursing under his breath once he got to his back mullars. However, it was usually just once or twice under his breath. Tonight he seemed extra frustrated. Between the bumpy road Jesse was on and the new plug in in this newest camper being at an awkward angle. You had to give him credit though. He usually did a quick job of it for such a dimlit messy area where mirrors weren't always available.

How he could stand the pain if he hit a nerve with how sharp he would whittle them down was beyond you! Then again, it was Severen. You'd only been turned a few months prior so maybe after living almost 200 years; pain would cease to bother you as well? For now, there was no way! You remember visibly cringing; your own mouth hurting the first time you saw him using that thing. Now? You were used to it. Crazy how much can change in such a short amount of time when you're with the same people night after night.

Homer had on his headphones he found along with a walkman on one of his hunts. You had no idea what he was listening to and you didn't ask. DB was reading a magazine beside Jesse as he drove, pointing out certain things to him to make conversation. Caleb had Mae in his lap on the ground, cuddling while she worked on a beaded necklace much like the one Severen wore.

Everyone was in their own little worlds in the cramped camper as you looked away and Severen continued to file his teeth. The drills buzzing making different noises as he hit certain teeth at odd angles. You tried busying yourself by learning a card trick Severen taught you. The cards scattered out of your hand when he startled you with an irritated hiss.

You sighed with a raised brow. "Severen, are you sure you don't need help?"

"I said, I got it. I've been doing this long enough to know what I'm doin'." He grunted out as you saw him trying to use one hand to hold the drill and the other to peel his mouth open to a wide grin with his finger.

You watched him a moment as you saw his brows crease and a growl escape his throat while struggled to get to his mullars. You huffed to yourself and got up. Walking back towards him as you spoke. "For godsakes, stop being so stubborn and let me help you."

He opened his mouth to argue before you kicked your leg up and out to, swining it over both of his to straddle his lap. You grinned at the expression on his face; Any argument instantly died down in his throat.

He looked at you curiously as he turned the drill off before you took it out of his hand. He stared up at you for a moment, mulling it over as you raised both brows at him.

He gave a defeated groan with a slight smirk. "Screw it. I guess you can help me with the top ones towards the back. I always hate tryin' to get 'em."

You tilted your head. "Why do you?"

"Cause how else am I gonna rip into throats? Front ones ain't gonna cut it...Get it?" He wagged his brows at his own pun.

You snorted as you examined the drill. "Yeah, I get it. I mean, I guess go big or go home."

"Exactly! Ya get it, Babydoll." He gave you a toothy grin in return. Most of his sharpened teeth on full display for you.

You gently put a hand on his chest and tipped his head back towards the nearest light.

"So Doc, want me to say 'ah' for ya?" He teased.

You chuckled. "Yeah sure. Just open your mouth."

He opened his mouth for you.

You eyed the few he was having trouble with. A bit nervous as you turned the drill on and placed one hand on his cheek to steady him, your thumb at the edge of his mouth. He swiped his tongue over your thumb and a sharp gasped escaped you before tapping his cheek.

"Quit it! You want this done or not?!" You tried glaring at him even though you couldn't hide the humor in your voice.

He gave a playful eyeroll but nodded.

"Then hold still." You wished you had someone to hold a flashlight but you didn't want to interrupt anyone. You felt the harsh vibration in your hand as you tentatively edged it towards his teeth, your thumb holding his mouth open wider. You didn't touch them yet before eyeing him.

"Don't jump or move, alright? Don't be cute and do it as a joke either."

He had a smug look in his eyes trying to talk with you forcing his mouth open. "Me? Neva-"

You gave him a skeptical stare. "I mean it, Sev. I'm nervous enough as it is I don't wanna accidentally hurt you cause you thought it would be funny to scare me."

He huffed, a light chuckle rumbled your arm as it rested on his chest. He was clearly pleased and amused you cared enough not to hurt him. It shouldn't matter. Just last month he purposely got shot in the stomach for 'fun' but you still couldn't shake these stupid new feelings you had developed for him.

"Awww, ain't cha precious." He gave with you still holding his mouth open. "See any cavities in 'ere? Cause yer givin' em to me bein' so sweet." He purred out in a slurry voice while you kept trying to hold his mouth open.

You huffed at that, grateful being red faced wasn't exactly a thing anymore with the slower heartbeat. "Hush or I'll give you sideways fangs because you're moving too much."

He just gave a deep throaty chuckle in response.

You swallowed and edged it towards the first tooth, half expecting him to flinch or gasp as a joke, but to your surprise, he complied for you. Leaning against the wall behind him on a chair as you sat near his knees in his lap. You started gently shaving down the tooth little by little on both sides. It soon formed a point as you craned your neck to focus.

You pulled the drill away, letting go of his mouth before Severen spoke. "You still on that one damn tooth?"

"Yes, now don't rush me...Stop fidgeting too." You mumbled as you felt his leg shifting against you the entire time. He definitely had issues staying in one place and focusing on one task at a time.

He grinned at you. "Well ain't you jus' bossy as hell tonight." He quipped but his leg stiffened in an urge to not jerk it so much. You bit your lip as he reopened his mouth and you concentrated, completely focused on filing down his second tooth on the otherside. You could see out of your peripheral his blue eyes staring up at yours while you worked.

You switched hands, shaking your wrist in discomfort before you finally just slid closer to him. Your thighs on top of his and your body pressing tightly against his as he stiffened a bit. You still used your legs to be taller than him and your fingers near his lips. He grunted, adjusting slightly to help you get a better angle. Your eyes met for a few seconds as you saw the way he was looking up at you. You felt his hand snake up to grab your hip. You allowed it even if it was distracting until you felt his fingers snaking closer to your ass. You let go of his mouth to slap it.

"No, distractions. Now would you hold still?" You scolded with a slight smirk.

You went back to work, focused on getting it right as he reluctantly put his hand back down to rest on your outer thigh. You felt his thumb making small strokes against your skin as he gazed up at you. His eyes were hooded and you felt his body completely relax as he let your bodys press together.

However, you just couldn't get this last tooth!

"Hold your head back a bit, please."

He did but it still was too hard. You felt your brows knit as you tried angling yourself to get it. You finally huffed and grabbed his jaw, moving his head back further. "No, like this. Now, open your mouth more." You demanded as his eyes widened and he shifted around underneath you. Your hands around his jawline and almost his throat to pry his head back to get the backside of his upper mullars.

You were entirely too focused on getting this damn tooth! You could understand his frustration entirely at trying to do this himself.

Your eyes flicked to his for a moment, you felt his jaw going slack and you eyed him. "Wider. I just have one more tooth."

He complied, swallowing as his eyes were hyperfocused on you. You smiled. "Good." You mumbled. You didn't think much about it but you could feel a rumbling in Severen's chest as he shifted under you. You were up more, practically on top of his chest as he had his head back.

You filed a few more strokes and then with a satisfied grin you shut it off. "Done!"

You examined your handy work as he stayed in the same position. You noticed the look he was giving you. It made your insides flip at that hungry gaze in his eyes...

But more so...You noticed you felt eyes on your back.

You and him both glanced back to see everyone staring at you both. Homer scoffed. "What the hell are yall doin'?! You better not be doin' any hanky panky back there, I swear to God-"

You gave an outraged scoff, a bit embarrassed at the position. It was still super early in the relationship. "We-"

Severen cut you off, snaking his arms around your hips to pull you tightly against him. "Why ya watchin' us ya lil perv?"

DB chimed in with smile right when Jesse pulled the camper over into the nearest truckstop. She chuckled to herself. "Hard not to with yall makin' so much noise back there...Peculiar position yer both in." She teased as you shoved off of Severen to your feet and he just laughed.

You showed them the drill as you sat it on the cpunter. "I was just sharpening his teeth! Swear by it!" You gave a nervous laugh, still new in the group and not used to them teasing you.

Caleb snorted. "Teeth...Suurree."

He had his hat on the counter as you grabbed it and threw it at him. Meanwhile, Severen got up, stretching before going to a mirror in the tiny bathroom. He checked his teeth out with a satisfied grin. He spoke up as he walked back out to put an arm over your shoulder.

"YN here was just playin' dentist with me. Did a damn good job too. Thank you kindly, Darlin'." He gave you with a quick kiss on the temple that had you melting a bit. He lost his sweet demeanor just as quickly as it came as he gave a cocky grin Caleb's way. "...'Sides, I ain't as quick as you probably are to do anything fun. Tough luck, Mae." He gave to her as she shook her head with a grin while Caleb rolled his eyes with a chuckle.

Him and Severen had a very boyish annoying dynamic that you shook your head in amusement at. Severen couldn't help hackling the younger guy and Caleb always fell for it. You rolled your eyes at them roasting each other as you started getting ready for the night.

You saw Jesse walk over. No smile but amusement in his eyes as he went over to Severen. He mumbled something to him, you barely caught bits and peices. Something along the lines of; "Looks like you met yer match. I could see yall in the mirror, ain't often you look so flustered, Old timer."

Severen gave a 'tsk' noise through his newly sharpened teeth with a mocking smirk. Jesse just shook his head with a smirk as he got his trenchcoat on. All of you getting ready for the night as Severen swung an arm around you and you all made your way to the 24 hour diner attached to the truckstop; ready to grab a bit to eat for the night.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

The Writing Chain

The Challenge: This fic is a random idea I had but it’s sat in my drafts with no plot so if anyone wants to continue this and pass it on it might be a bit of fun. I would love to see what directions it could take.

Background: The reader’s heart was removed in a steampunk fashion (circa mid 1800’s) and replaced with clockwork that needs to be rewound each day to keep pumping oil around their body. They are kind of more machine than man but their brain remained so they still think and feel like a person.

Avengers x Reader (you choose pronouns)

——— the story so far — — —

The rhythmic ticking of the clock in your chest counted down the seconds to your demise as you raced towards the Avengers Tower, hoping you made it in time. You crashed through the front doors, screaming for Tony as your palm smashed over the button to call the elevator.

First, your fingers began to seize, each joint becoming stiffer with every passing second. Next your knees locked and you were frozen as the elevator doors opened, the mirror against the back wall reflecting your panic.

“Outta my way, move it!” Tony shouted as he flew in from the top floor, smashing through the front glass to save precious time. “I got ya, kid.”

You scoffed at the nickname, your body may look younger than him but you outdated almost everyone on the team aside from Thor. Your body unchanging since the experiment, forever 22.

The Ironman armour peeled away as Tony stepped out, the key to saving your life in his hand. There wasn’t even time for modesty as he ripped through your shirt and shoved it into your chest, turning it to rejuvenate your function.

“Cutting that a bit close, don’t you think?” Tony grumbled as he pulled the key back out, another 24 hours wound back on your life clock. He pocketed the key once again and pulled his AC/DC shirt off to replace your shirt he had ruined, finally relaxing now that he knew you were going to live to see another day.

“We have got to figure out a way to fix you.” He sighed.

“I’m not a broken toy.” You huffed.

“No, you’re right.” He said before smirking. “But you do wind up like one. Should change your name to Jack in the Box.”

[giordirossi]

TW: gore, violence, blood

--

Seduce and destroy remained her least favorable and yet somehow most successful method of luring in Russian filth. Pose as a lonely woman, stand at an upscale bar and pretend to look lost, wear something just tight enough to draw attention without being too obvious about it. Coupled with the occasional wig and anonymous nature of her work, it made for the perfect situation to slide a questionable cocktail across the counter and bat her lashes like a cosmopolitan Jack The Ripper.

They always slumped during the “walk to the car” segment. Nobody ever made it to the mouth of the alley before knees hit pavement and her backup swooped in to carry the not-quite-dead weight, stuffing them into a trunk and eventually escorting the unlucky contestant into her little gameshow of horrors. This shit was practically clockwork by now and while she much preferred the challenge of a good brawl in darkened corners, a knife to the ribcage typically made people less inclined to talk. Here, though? Here she could take her time and get a little... creative with the methodology of extraction until they were no longer of any interest.

Take the latest sad sack currently dangling by his wrists, twirling gracefully like a crimson coated music box figurine. Susceptible to the frigid temperature from last night and her continued games this afternoon, inching ever closer to desperate pleas for a mercy she couldn’t fathom. Experience attuned Giordana to the telltale signs, every shuddered breath and mewling whimper provided insight into what further agony a man’s body could take. Where his personal line existed, how close she traipsed along the edge of knocking him into useless oblivion. At least her hands were clean–– for now.

This one required further marinating and with an admonishing click of her tongue, she released the singular salvation between his mottled torso and the next fragment of suffering. Metal twisted against sinew in jagged spiral motions, further mangling what was once a shoulder.

His ensuing screams echoed along the warehouse’s walls like a most unholy choir, reverberating to the heavens and finding no response. Perhaps God really did choose favorites. The sound was a sickening alarm that might have turned over anyone else’s stomach, but Giordana sat unfazed and perched on a stool, reaching across a table of workman’s tools to pry her burner from the depths of a purse Vinnie bought for her this past Christmas.

Speed dial number one, it went straight to his own spare and he answered on the first ring. Typical. Some might infer that as a hallmark of their unwaveringly devoted friendship, she preferred to call it not having a life. All with an affectionate smirk, of course. “I’m thinking our usual spot at seven.” No greetings were necessary and her voice held the candor that accompanied casual dinner plans, despite any obvious shrieking in the background on her end.

“Oh dio, not there. The wait’s always an hour and it’s fucking French. The last thing I want tonight is––” Unmitigated howling followed by a slew of curses drew her attention away for a split second. “Do you mind? I’m on the phone.” As if her target had gone and inconvenienced a perfectly reasonable discussion. Not that she was the paragon of manners, but surely he could still use his one good eye to gauge the situation.

The glint of a needle and its accompanying thread sat untouched at the corner of her workbench, lithe fingertips reaching forward to trace the fabric and rolling it over with idle curiosity. “Anyway, just pick me up and we’ll play it by ear. Yeah? Good.” Relentless in all aspects of her life, consistency was key if nothing else. With that, the call ended and it became a party of two yet again as she pivoted the seat around to face her company.

Ironic, wasn’t it? How they deemed her the Russian of the Sovrani? She certainly didn’t recall being unwise enough to end up in these same straits, and while it had been years since teeth grit at the moniker, now her lips only pulled back into a voracious smile. Time to give her guest a taste of familiarity.