#feel free to steal and add questions

[shhh-secret-time]

Fuck it, OC brain rot won. Get ready for the Secret Ask List

1) Does your OC have a voice claim, if so who?

2) Who's your OCs best friend? How did they become best friends?

3) What song describes your OC?

4) What song describes your OC and their partner/love interest?

5) Do you ship your OC with a Canon character? If so who?

6) If your OC is in a fantasy setting, what profession would they be in the modern day?

7) Vice-Versa! If your OC is in the modern day, what fantasy class would they be? Would they be a different race?

8) What hobbies does your OC have? What do they do to unwind?

9) How does your OC handle their physical health? Do they take care of themselves?

10) How does your OC handle their mental health? Do they take care of themselves?

11) What was your inspiration for your OC?

12) Does your OC interact with other people's OC? If so, who's their best OC friend?

13) Does your OC have a rival? How did it start?

14) Who's a character your OC cannot stand! It's on sight when they see them!

15) Will your OC ever retire? Do you see them making it?

16) How's their relationship with their parents? Are they alive?

17) If your OC has kids, are they a good parent? Do they ever feel guilty if they have to leave them?

18) What are their pronouns? What would they like to be called?

19) What's their sexuality? What's their love language both giving and receiving?

20) If they fight, what's their weapon of choice?

21) What song best describes their relationship with their enemy?

22) Fight or Flight? Are they a lover or a fighter?

23) Is your OC reliable? Can I call them up at two in the morning if I have a flat tire?

24) Can they play any instruments? If so, what do they play?

25) Are they the kind of person who can't resist a good song? Can I catch your OC singing to themselves while they do the dishes?

26) What flower do you associate your OC with?

27) What's their spirit tamagotchi? Or an animal you associate them with?

28) What clique would they be in? (Draw them in the clothes of said group!)

29) Imagine a mood board for your OC! What's on it? (Make it if you want!)

30) My OC and your OC are friends. This isn't a question. I'm not asking. (How do they respond?)

[mirellapryce]

George mentioned Shrek in one of his cameos, and then "Hallelujah" by Rufus Wainwright came on my music today so here we fuckin' go! You cannot tell me that a boy with as many trophies as Charles has was not forced to learn piano. On top of that I have decided that our little punk rocker probably learned the Leonard Cohen version of "Hallelujah".

Now to incorporate Jayden's vision of Greek Gods. As one of the gods of music, I envision Apollo challenging the boys to play him a song (just to bring this full circle back to Orpheus and Eurydice, please know I'm thinking of Hadestown when Hades tells Orpheus to sing for him). Edwin is panicking 'cause he doesn't know how, and while Charles enjoys music, he's never shown any sign of knowing how to PLAY. Then Charles, cool as you please just steps up to the piano in the room and plays a very basic scale.

Apollo sarcastically remarks that that's hardly impressive and Charles tells him to give him a minute. It's BEEN 30 years. It's not perfect, but "Hallelujah" was the first song he learned for himself. He practiced it at school til the sun went down for months. He had dreams of joining a band and escaping his life, and they all centred around this song. Now it's a faded memory but he remembers enough to stumble through.

But all I ever learned from love, was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you.

[threefandomsinatenchcoat]

Soulmate AU where you have the same soulmate through every life you have lived, but you will not always find your soulmate in every life, and they will not always be living at the same time as you.

Everyone has a mark on their wrist with their soul symbol, and a tally with the number of lives the two of you have lived together. The mark will only appear if you both are alive, and the tallies only appear if you both have met in the life.

You do not remember the past lives until you are both reunited with your soulmate and you experience something together that triggers the memory of a specific life.

Just some fun ideas that I had

[juleswritesstuff]

Holy hands, will they make me a sinner ?

You seem to have a little secret. Regulus figures you out immediately.

regulus black x fem!reader

warnings: smut

“If you bore holes in them I won't be able to finish my essay, Y/n” 

His voice brings you back from the apparent state of trance you had unconsciously fallen into. Blinking rapidly, you regain perception of the walls of your dorm room surrounding you and the myriad of books scattered across your bed.  You shift your gaze to his gray eyes and you find them already set on you.

“Pardon ?” your voice has a confused edge that almost makes him chuckle.

“My hands” he explains, his tone as neutral as ever “You were staring”

Your eyes go a little wide, like you had been caught stealing the last chocolate frog of the stash. You swallow, trying to compose yourself as best as you can.

“I was doing no such thing” you declare, a bit too solemn and defensive to be the truth.

Regulus pins you with an unimpressed look, his left brow arching just enough to tell you that he isn't buying any of your bullshit.

A defeated sigh leaves your lips. 

It is no use hiding something from Regulus Black. He will find out one way or another, and you got caught right with your hands in the jar.

“Ok, fine” you admit, lifting your shoulders to make it seem like the most casual thing ever “I was looking at your hands”

Regulus’ expression doesn't change, but the glint of amusement flashing in his eyes doesn't go unnoticed.

“More like ogling, I would say” even his tone has a playful bite to it.

You like this side of him. The Regulus who is able to relax a bit and let go when he is surrounded by the people he is comfortable with.

But carefree Regulus also means menace Regulus apparently.

“I wasn't ogling” you grumble, rolling your eyes “I was just admiring them” 

His eyebrows furrow.

“Why ?” he seems intrigued as the question leaves his lips.

Why, he has the courage to ask.

Well the answer is that Regulus Black has the prettiest, hottest, most gorgeous hands you have ever laid eyes on.

They are elegant, slender, the little veins underneath the pale skin gracing your eyes with their presence with every movement he makes, every flex of his muscles, producing a delicious design that hypnotizes you. 

They are smooth but decorated by light calluses, undoubtedly caused by Quidditch, that create a divine contrast with his otherwise untainted skin.

His fingers are long, lean, clad in silver rings that make your mouth water with how exquisitely sultry they make him look.

And suddenly, but not surprisingly, you find yourself imagining what it would feel like to have those hands on you, exploring every inch of your body, dancing on your skin like flames dance in the cold hair of the night. The cool metal of his rings being at odds with your scorching hot skin, making you hiss as his skilled fingers create a burning path over your body, traveling everywhere. Your legs, your thighs, your hips, chest, shoulders and stopping right at your neck, wrapping delicately, reverentially around it. Worshipping the sensitive skin, feeling the erratic pulse of your heart and-

“You’re doing it again” his words interrupt your spiraling for the second time that day, sounding dry and apathetic as always, but a hint of teasing twinkles in the otherwise coldness of his eyes.

“You have nice hands, that’s all” you manage to say without giving away all the less than pure thoughts flooding your mind in that moment. “From an artist point of view, obviously” you add, shrugging, trying to make everything less than obvious.

You really hope Regulus didn't learn to cast a Legilimes in his free time, otherwise you were well and truly screwed.

Bringing up your passion for drawing is futile and you know it. You know he knows the drooling over his hands isn't for the sake of art. You can't fool Regulus Black, not even if you try to.

Which is both extremely annoying and criminally hot in your humble opinion.

But pretending is the only thing you can do to not feel embarrassed, holding onto the hope that maybe he doesn’t have you all figured out.

“So you’re saying that your interest is purely artistic ?” he cocks a brow as his head tilts slightly.

There’s something in his voice, in his eyes, that you can’t quite figure.

Your forehead scrunches in confusion.

“Yes, of course” you answer, trying to hide the stutter of your voice as best you can.

You are pretty sure he knows that you aren’t telling the truth, he somehow always knows. He reads you like an open book, and, for someone who doesn’t engage in showing his emotions too often, he is pretty damn good at reading the ones of others. 

So why that question ? You almost expected him to tell you to cut it out and get back to study because that essay isn’t gonna finish itself.

This is new, unexpected. 

Interesting.

“Would you like to draw them ?”

Your eyes go wide in surprise.

Wait.

What ?

Never, in all the years you have known each other, had he offered to model for you. 

He knew about you having an interest in arts, he even saw a couple of your drawings and paintings and he often asked about them and how they were coming up, but he never asked to be in them.

You never brought up the suggestion either. He is a reserved guy and he loathes having eyes on him, so you figured he would’ve never accepted even if you did.

That never stopped you from sketching him from afar, though. Those gorgeous features deserve to be portrayed.

But why the sudden proposition ?

You aren’t stupid. Regulus might know you like the back of his hand, but you could say the same about him. And this, whatever this might be, is not like him at all. 

Regulus never does anything for nothing, there is always an explanation, a reason to his every move. You think even his breaths are perfectly calculated.

But this time the why gets lost on you, and the harder you try to understand the less it all makes sense.

“I can see the gears in your brain twinsting and turning,” he says, calm and composed as ever.

He is sitting on your bed, the quill he was using to write his Charms paper now abandoned next to him. His back is perfectly straight, leaning on the headbord to support his weight. The raven strands of his hair create soft waves that frame his face in a delicate and enchanting way. His lips are stretched in a rare, playful smile, curling up slightly on the left side.

He is beautiful. Dangerously so.

“It’s just-” you are confused, there is no doubt about that, but most of all you are intrigued “You have never asked me before”

“I know” 

That’s his only answer. Simple, concise. Enigmatic. 

Just like him.

“So why now ?” 

The question escapes your lips before you can stop it. You can’t help it, curiosity is consuming you, and the possibility of learning a new part of him makes your skin tingle with excitement.

“Why not ?” he shrugs “There is a first time for everything, right ? So why not now ?”

There is still that glint of something in his eyes. You don’t know what it is, you don’t think you would be able to give it a name even if you knew, but it's there, and it’s strong.

“I’ll get my supplies then” 

You slowly get up from the bed, feeling your heart in your throat in a mix of anticipation and nervousness, and you retrieve your album and a pencil.

When you sit back down you notice that the books have been neatly stacked in a small pile next to your bed and all the papers, previously scattered all over your sheets, are nowhere to be seen.

“Figured we might need the space” he says, like he read your mind.

“Thank you”, you give him a small smile before opening your album, turning the pages one by one, until you find a blank sheet, ready to be filled.

“Where do you need me ?” 

The way he utters those words with the utmost nonchalance, apparently unaware of the effect they have on you, nearly sends you into cardiac arrest.

Everywhere, you think, before mentally smacking yourself.

You need to get a grip, for Merlin’s sake.

“Right there is fine,” you're able to say without your voice faltering “just angle your hands towards me, so the light is right”

He does as he is told, adjusting his position and moving his hands a bit to the right, veins on full display and rings shining under the warm rays of the sunset seeping through the window.

“That’s good” your mouth is suddenly dry as you gulp at that sight.

He is a bit far, and the light doesn’t hit as perfectly as you had expected, but you’ll work with it. If squinting your eyes a bit is the price to pay to maintain your mental sanity, then so be it.

Then you start drawing. The only sound filling the room is the gentle scraping of your pencil as your eyes focus on the white sheet in front of you, your gaze shifting to his hands ever so often to take a peek at them, like you haven't learnt every detail by heart.

You can feel his eyes on you. You try not to focus on it, but the shivers those pools of the color of a summer storm send down your spine are difficult to ignore.

“You’re straining your eyes” he blurts out of the blue.

Observant as always.

“It’s fine,” you assure him, your gaze never leaving the paper “this distance is good for perspective” 

“But it’s a problem for the lighting”

Those words make you lift your head up, your brows knotted in a frown.

How does he-

“And what would you know about the lighting ?” you eye him suspiciously, a small grin curving your lips.

“I guess all your rambles about that muggle painter weren’t in vain” he says, and there’s a cheekiness in his tone that is completely new to you “Caravaggio, right ?”

Your grin turns into a full smile.

“Right,” you nod, your eyes widening a little “I can’t believe you actually remember”

“I remember a lot of things,” he remarks defensively.

“Only those important enough to you” the teasing in your voice is light, playful, as your pencil glides on the sheet swiftly, adding strokes and shadows here and there.

There’s a beat of silence.

One second. Two. Three. And then-

“Exactly”

Your hand halts every movement, freezing completely. You look up from your paper and you find his gaze already on you.

Suddenly you are lost. Your heart is beating so fast you wouldn’t be surprised if he was actually able to hear it.

The implications of that single word swirl in your brain, creating a hurracane of thoughts that almost gives you whiplash. 

He doesn’t give you the time to even think properly about what he may have just suggested, because he decides to speak again. 

“I can come closer if you need me to” his voice is lower, deeper, oozing with that same something he’s had in his eyes since he caught you staring at his heavenly hands.

You want to scream. You have no idea of what the hell is going on and it’s confusing the shit out of you.

You know he is asking for that forsaken drawing you still have in your lap, but it somehow doesn’t feel like it. The electricity in the room is so high it feels like an open cable sending sparks flying everywhere, setting the air on fire. 

The only coherent thought in your brain is a chorus of yes, please and nothing else.

So you cave.

“You can,” you manage to say, because the necessity to protect your sanity might be strong, but the need to have him close to you is apparently stronger “if you want to”

His gaze is so penetrating you feel it in your soul, consuming you from the inside out and setting your whole body ablaze.

It’s compelling, hypnotizing even. 

“This is not about what I want, Y/n”

Oh, the way those words leave his perfect lips, making shudders erupt all over your body should be studied. 

Your world shifts on its axes and it starts spinning ten times faster. Because he knows. 

He knows. 

“We're not talking about art anymore, are we ?” you ask, swallowing soundly as your breath gets stuck in your throat.

“Were we ever talking about that in the first place ?” his question is rhetorical. He doesn’t need an answer because he already knows it. He figured you out, like he always does.

So what was the point in pretending anymore ?

“No,” you admit “I guess we weren't” your trembling hands move the paper out of the way.

There is a spark in his eyes. It’s foreign, thrilling even, and it makes your skin prickle in the best way.

Suddenly he moves. He shifts his weight forward, approaching you slowly. The veins in his arms and hands bulging from the pressure and knocking the air out of your lungs in the process.

“So tell me” he whispers, crawling to you bit by bit, like a hunter advancing towards his prey. He seems to be calm, poised, totally in control of his body as he comes closer and closer.

It’s his eyes that betray him. 

They have always been the window to his feelings, talking more than his mouth ever did. And right now they are burning, engulfed by a heat that makes your legs weak and your heart roar. The realization hits you, a rush of adrenaline running through your veins.

They are hungry.

“Tell you what ?” you stutter, unable to regain a hold of yourself. You can’t breathe, your palms are sweaty, you feel hot all over and he is close, so damn close.

He stops right in front of you, mere inches between your faces and a tension so heavy you can cut it with a butter knife.

“What you want” the warmth of his breath delicately caresses your skin. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, his eyes following the movement intently almost making you squirm under his gaze.

“You seem to know what I want” you murmur breathlessly, your body heating up in response to his proximity. 

Those hands, protagonists of some of the filthiest dreams you’ve ever had, are right next to you. Close enough to graze the skin of your thighs with his knuckles, but never indulging in the act. Like he is teasing you, waiting for you to beg for it. You shift your gaze to them and you swallow hard, the need to feel them on you growing stronger every second that passes. 

You are about to fucking combust.

His silver eyes are still fixed on you, intense and magnetic, as they follow your line of sight.

“I won't move a muscle unless you tell me to, Y/n” 

Those words, mouthed so close to your lips and mixed with the low, velvet-like husk of his voice, make your legs clench and your stomach churn in the best way possible.

You can’t take it anymore.

You move forward, abandoning your position on the bed to place your legs on each side of his hips, almost straddling him. Your hands are on his shoulders, helping you to keep your balance, feeling the lean muscles underneath the shirt as you hover over him.

His head tilts up, eyes sharp and hot and glued to yours. You hear him suppress a hiss as your thighs brush his hips. His arms are still next to him, hands gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles turn white.

He is restraining himself. From touching you. 

Your thoughts are clouded, your mind hazy and completely out of it. The only thing you want right now is for him to place those perfect fucking hands on you and never stop.

“Do it” your voice is so weak and breathy it’s a miracle he hears you.

“Do what ?” he mouths, so close to your lips it makes your head spin.

You’re needy, desperate even, but you don’t care. You don’t have time to think right now. You want to feel.

“Touch me” you beg.

“Where ?” he sounds just as gone as you are, and you finally crumble.

“Everywhere”

It’s nothing more than a whisper but it shakes the both of you like an earthquake. 

You meet in the middle, your lips colliding and completely knocking the breath out of you.

His mouth is sinful, greedy, chasing yours with a hunger that almost makes you melt on the spot. You get lost in the softness of it, in the ungodly brush of your tongues making you moan breathlessly. You bite and nibble and lick and he follows you, matching the languid pace just as eagerly, as your hands tangle in his hair, pulling at the black strands delicately. The low groan that escapes his throat sends goosebumps all over you.

You are so focused on the filthy dance of your mouths that you almost miss the agonizingly slow graze of his fingers on the exposed flesh of your legs, gently tracing a path on your thighs.

The metal of his rings meets the hotness of your skin and you hiss.

Oh, it’s just as delicious as you imagined.

“Ah- fuck” you pant, millimeters away from him. Your head feels light, dizzy. 

You feel like you’re dreaming, lost in your own fantasies.

But his hands running up and down your thighs feel too fucking good to be just a product of your imagination. They travel slowly, excruciatingly so, making you lose your mind with every new inch of skin they explore. 

Until they sneak under your skirt, reaching your hips to gently knead the supple skin, applying enough force to bring you forward.

“Sit” It feels more like a plea than an order but-

Holy shit.

A gasp escapes your mouth before you can stop it.

Every cell of your body threatens to explode as he pushes your weight on him all the way, making you straddle him completely.

“Fucking finally” he curses, more to himself than to you, like he has been waiting for this moment his whole life.

His eyes are dark, fogged up by lust and need, and it's the lewdest thing you have ever witnessed.

“I have never seen you like this” you whisper directly on his lips, nibbling on the plush flesh.

He smirks, smirks for Salazar's sake, as his fingers move, reprising their mission to make you lose every ounce of control.

“It seems you were busy looking at something else”

His thumbs rub the skin of your inner thigh in a hypnotizing manner, sending bolts of electricity down your spine.

You whimper as they get closer and closer to your core, your grip on the junction between his neck and shoulder tightening in pleasure.

But he must take it as some sort of sign of discomfort because he halts suddenly.

“Want me to stop ?” his eyes search for yours, the veiled concern in them making your heart stutter.

“Don’t you even dare” you say, a mere breath away from him before you dive in, capturing his mouth again.

It's messy and dirty and you get addicted to his taste way too quickly.

His hands move up, massaging your skin at every caress of your tongues, until they reach the hem of your panties.

He moves away from your lips for a quick moment, and he looks at you.

The silent ‘Can I ?’ written in his eyes almost makes you swoon.

You nod your head.

“I need words, chérie” he whispers sensually.

The combination of his right hand so close to your most sensitive spot, his left one traveling up to your hip, holding it tightly, posessivly, and that fucking pet name almost make you cum on the spot.

“Yes” you practically beg.

Only then he resprises his journey of exquisit torture along your body.

“Shit-” you quiver as he kisses your neck, branding the sensitive skin with his lips and teeth. His hands move, fingers skilled and sinful as they reach your heat.

You mewl as they make contact with the light material of your underwear.

“Jesus Christ” hs hisses a groan “you’re soaked”

A series of choked out whimpers leaves your lips as he strokes his fingers over your panties, feeling your wetness through the fabric.

“Fuck- Reg” a moan ripples from your lips when his thumb brushes your clit tentativley, making you gasp. Your hands fly to his hair, lightly pulling the soft strands with trembling fingers.

“Look at you, all horny and needy over my hands” his voice is tantalizing but you can hear the breathlessness, the strain in it. He is affected by this just as much as you are and it makes you go almost feral.

“Please” you breathe. You don’t even know what you’re begging for. Your mind is too hazy, too fogged up by lust and need to have a single coherent thought in it.

But he sure does know, because his digits move your panties to the side, just enough to glide over your slickness, making contact with the tender skin of your folds and spreading your wetness all over.

Finally, finally the hands consuming your every thought are on you, right where you had craved and imagined them the most.

You arch your back in ecstasy, biting your lip.

And it’s when his middle finger eases inside of you, slowly breaching your velvety walls, that you lose it completely.

The air gets knocked out of your lungs, liquid fire engulfs every cell of your body, every nerve and muscle consumed by pleasure.

“Regulus-” it’s the only thing you manage to mewl as he slides in and out of you in a rhythm so sensual and sultry it makes you melt. The cold metal of his ring meets the warm, sensitive skin of your cunt with every prod, creating a delicious contrast.

You never break eye contact, your gazes locked together drinking in every little detail, every wave of bliss swimming in them.

“Is this what you fantasized about, love ?” he pants right on your lips “All the times I caught you staring, is this what you were imagining my hands doing ? Fucking you senseless, feeling how tight and needy you are ?”

His words are as dirty as his eyes as he slides another finger into you, making you inhale sharply and stretching you out so good you could almost cry. 

“Ohmygodyes” you moan as your hips start moving to their own accord, meeting the prodding of his fingers eagerly, riding his hand like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do.

“But this is not the only fantasy you have, right chérie ?” he teases, going faster, harder, pumping mercilessly and leaving you a blubbering mess.

His left hand leaves its place on your hip and moves up, grazing the soft skin of your stomach, the supple and tender flesh of your breasts, the natural dip of your collarbones, worshipping every inch of your skin in their path, until they reach their goal.

“I bet you thought about this too, didn't you ?” 

You were always sure this would remain just one of your daydreams, the kind of dirty thought that should remain in your mind and nowhere else. But Regulus Black was Regulus Black and reading you was one of his favorite hobbies.

It still comes as a surprise, though, when he delicately wraps his hand around your throat, resting it there, feeling every pulse of your heart, every pump of your blood and adorning your neck with the prettiest fucking necklace you could ever ask for.

“Yes” it’s nothing more than a breath, but it sends him into a frenzy. His right thumb rubs your clit relentlessly, adding to the unforgiving pace of his fingers sliding in and out of you with lewd, wet squelches. The whimpers coming out of your mouth are raw, filthy and downright pornographic as you feel your orgasm approaching.

Your head is in the clouds, a hundred thousands miles from earth as the only thing you can focus on is the feeling of his hands on you, fucking you to your release as the one on your neck squeezes the faintest bit, enough to almost send you over the edge.

His left thumb leaves its place right above your jugular, moving upwards to caress your jawline, your cheek and, lastly, your lips.

You can feel the digit caressing the red, bitten flesh, brushing it with reverence, worshiping it with his whole being. His heated gaze is bewitched, entranced by your mouth parting, welcoming him past your lips, and lightly grazing the pad with your teeth before enveloping it wholly.

“Bloody fucking hell, Y/n” he rasps, voice low and dangerously close to pleading as you suck on his thumb like it's the tastiest treat you have ever put in your mouth.

The hand on your cunt speeds its pace, pounding in and out of you like a fucking machine, the vibrations on your little bundle of nerves getting more intense by the second, sending you over the edge in a mess of moans and whimpers.

“Reg, fuck, I'm-”

You reach your release with his name on your lips, back arched and hips rolling to help you ride your orgasm on those unholy fingers of his. 

Your vision is blurred, your brain fuzzy and overwhelmed by bliss as you slowly come back to your senses.

It takes you a few seconds to regain control of your body and mind, but when you do you are graced with a vision you are sure you will never forget.

The ever composed and collected Regulus Black is right in front of you with his expression contorted in pure lust, eyes bleary and unfocused, hair tousled by your hands relentlessly stroking them, lips red and glossy from the heated kisses, tie loose, crooked and shirt crumpled.

He is a mess.

The hottest mess you have ever seen.

You're still not fully out of your head space when he speaks again.

“You're loud” he grins, his tone teasing but still a little raspy.

“You're filthy” you bite back weakly, your voice hoarse and strained. 

“Maybe. But I don’t think I'm the only one” 

The fingers that have been inside of you not even a moment ago are now in front of you, coated and glistening with your essence.

He slowly brings them closer to your mouth, and you don't even think twice before eagerly welcoming them inside it.

The taste of yourself mixes with the metallic tinge of his rings as you suck leisurely, restraining a moan before he takes them out with a wet pop.

“Sale fille” he groans in french, lowly and right on your parted lips, before he dives in an alluring kiss. (Dirty girl)

It's slower than all the others you shared, but it's deeper, sensual and it almost gets you worked up all over again.

His tongue meets yours in a erotic dance and when the taste of your very essence coats his tastebuds a moan rumbles in his throat.

“You're sweet” his voice is nothing more than a whisper as his teeth nibble at your lower lip gently.

“Want me to find out if you're sweet, too ?” You offer with a teasing smile on your lips . His hands might be your biggest fantasy, but they sure as hell are not the only part of him you fantasize about.

“Eager, are we ?” he teases playfully, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear “Not today, chérie”

The little pet name creates butterflies in your stomach and makes your cheeks warm, but doesn't hide your disappointment. 

“Why ?” you ask, your hands going to fiddle with his tie.

“As I told you, this is not about what I want” he explains, his arms circling you in a loose hug “and I don't know if you noticed, but it's pretty late”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, and only then you realize that the sun has already set and the room would be totally surrounded by darkness if it wasn't for the few magic candles lighting up automatically when twilight hits.

Your eyes widen.

“How long have we been here for ?” your voice has a panicked hint to it, making Regulus laugh.

“I'm pretty sure dinner is getting served right now” he says nonchalantly, like it's the most normal thing ever to engage in sexual activities with your best friend and miss supper because of it.

“Which might be for the best,” he adds.

“Why ?” you ask in genuine confusion.

“Because I’m the only one lucky enough to hear your dirty little sounds” he says with a shit-eating grin before kissing you again.

Thank you for reading 💖

[peaktora]

𝐂 𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘 ˚◞♡ ⃗ satoru gojo

𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬 ┊ your husband is unbearably clingy.

𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 ┊0.9k words. no pronouns used or specified gender for the reader. intended lowercase. established relationship (#married).

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚.┊i’m warning u guys right now that this is not proofread 😭 .. i literally just typed this up rq and posted it bc it’s been too long since i’ve last posted something on here

p.s. the prompt was in my notes from a longgg time ago, but i believe it’s from @/creativepromptsforwriting .. if not please lmk !!

"c'mere, hold my hand," satoru pleads for what has to be the third time. he pouts at you, who’s sitting on the countertop.

your brows furrow as you look up from your phone, "but, you're washing the dishes?”

he twists the faucet handle, and a steady stream of water flows down. after a brief glance at you, he places the plate beneath the water and says, "i know how to multitask, baby."

clinginess is defined as “the tendency to stay near someone for emotional support, protection, ect.” but there has to be another term for what satoru is, because you can't give any of those things while holding his hand right now.

you let out a deep breath and turn off your phone, watching as the screen fades to black. "satoru, there's no way i'm sticking my hand in that dirty dishwater," you say, sliding your phone into your pocket.

he practically shoves the plate into the drying rack. "i can't believe this," he huffs. "we literally had vows."

“what are y—“

“we had vows that said you’d love me in sickness and in health.”

"well…are you sick?" you ask, crossing your arms across your chest.

he pauses his task of washing dishes, leaving them untouched. leaning over the sink, he rests his arms against its edge. he steals a furtive glance at you, only to find your gaze locked onto him. with a hint of hesitation, he softly mumbles, "no..." before you can respond, he interrupts, "but i’m in health, and the vows said that you have to love and cherish me in this state too."

you lean back, searching your mind for what the alternative of holding his hand would be. because in no world would you hold his hand in dishwasher. then, it hits you. "for now, would a hug make you feel better?"

he answers your question with a hum, and you can't believe he's debating whether or not to accept your offer after all that drama over holding hands in dishwater. even so, he adds, "i'll have to give it some thought."

two can play that game.

“it’s okay,” you say, gracefully hopping down from the counter. a smirk spreads across your face. “i could just go—sit on the couch?” slowly, you start to walk in his direction and make your way over to the living room.

he doesn’t say anything, letting you do as you please. it’s not until you start to pass by him, that you get the reaction you wanted.

or atleast, somewhat similar to what you wanted.

"on second thought—" he exclaims, and the dishwater swirls around him as he turns around, his hands still wet and dripping.

you cringe as small puddles gather on the tiles. "hey—" but he interrupts you as he reaches out to grab your wrist. “ew—I—what the hell?”

you instinctively try to pull back, but he slips his wet hand in yours; sealing your fate.

“satoru—”

“what happened to nicknames?”

“satoru.”

"’m not sure who that is. i go by a lot of names, but not that one. lets go down the list, yeah?” he clears his throat. “i go by "babe, baby, swe—"

"you should consider adding "gojo" to that list."

"now, when have you ever called me gojo?”

"right now, in exactly ten seconds.” your husband gasps, hanging his mouth open. “satoru go—"

“woah woah woah—what’d i do to deserve this treatment?”

“you put your dirty dishwater hand in mine.” you jerk your hand back, struggling to escape free of his grip.

his grip tightens on your hand, “if you’re feeling like not loving me today then just say that.”

“hey—don’t discredit me. i offered you a hug and you said you had to “think” about it.”

“cause holding your hand ‘s better.”

you sigh, “after you’re done with the dishes, you can hold my hand as long as you want.“

he lets out a soft, thoughtful hum—the same hum that got you both into this situation in the first place. at the same time you shake your head, a mischievous twinkle appears in his eyes, and a smile twists onto the edges of his lips. "deal" he says, shaking your hand. “but before-“

you tsk, making him drop his excuse.

“wh—“

"the quicker these dishes get done, the quicker you’ll be able to hold my hand. so get on with it—go," you playfully command, and his grip loosens in response. seizing the opportunity, you slide your hand out of his grasp. you look down at it, seeing bits of food that’ve stuck to your palm. gross.

you walk over to the sink, feeling the cool water flow over your hand, washing away the food and dirt that clung to your skin. as you stand there, you hear satoru's voice grumbling from behind, "i hate doing dishes,” and you can’t help but snort.

before you know it, you feel his presence close behind you, his body pressing against yours. his arms encircle you, creating a cozy pocket of space between the counter and his body. satoru leans over your shoulder, gets a sponge from the soapy water, and starts washing a bowl. you simply lean back and look at his features.

the sight almost makes you want to stay in his arms forever. that is, until you realize the predicament you're in.

“you did not,” you whine. you desperately try to break free from the cage he’s trapped you in, but your attempts prove more and more pointless.

"oh, yes, i did," he declares with a smile. “what did you say earlier?" he clears his throat before proceeding. "the faster these dishes are done, the sooner you'll be able to hold my hand," he says, mockingly imitating your tone. "so, the faster these dishes are done, the sooner you can leave and do anything you want."

you sulk and moan while you reluctantly grab a dish and a spare sponge from the sink. “i hate you.”

“i love you more.”

[gojodickbig]

my smau masterlist ୨♡୧

i will mainly make smaus for gojo, toji, and sukuna, but i might also add other characters upon request or if i feel like it. feel free to send an ask to my inbox if u have an idea for a smau (no suggestive prompts for under 18 characters) ๑♡๑✧

jjk smaus

✧you say no to their kisses

✧acting all pent up with them

✧them asking you out on a date

✧them spending the day with your child

✧"she's busy rn"

✧asking them silly questions

✧them being jealous

✧you had a nightmare about them

✧asking them their first impression of you

✧"wrong number"

✧ leaving without telling them

✧jjk x dc characters

✧ pranking them by not saying "ily" back

✧ them sending u spicy pics while you're out

✧ them forgetting your anniversary

✧ in which you prank them into thinking you're cheating on them

✧ they found out you have a date

✧ drunk confession

✧ they confess their feelings

✧them sending you the wrong pic

✧ stealing your panties

✧ in which they catch you watching edits of them

✧ you and the jjk men fight - pt2.

✧ the jjk men don’t react well to your pregnancy

✧ the jjk men ask for your friend’s number - pt2.

✧ they cheat on you

✧ texts with bf!satoru - pt2.

✧ first time talking after the break up

✧ the jjk men ditch you on valentine’s date - pt2. pt2.5.

✧ in which the jjk men raised their voices at you

✧ the jjk men asking you to move in with them

✧ you send them the wrong pic

✧ the jjk men made a bet on you

✧ the jjk men hearing you pleasuring urself

✧ in which your dealer finds out you're a girl

✧ in which you prank them by asking if they ever wish they were taller

✧ in which you tell them that you need a hug

✧ in which you ask them if they miss you right after you just left

✧ in which you go out for a walk after a really rough argument

✧ in which you prank them by saying sex has been boring

✧ in which you ask them which thigh their dick is resting on

✧ texts with plug!sukuna pt1

✧ pick a number (of nudes).

✧ in which you ask them if they wish their dick was bigger

✧ in which you have to wait for their boner to go down after kissing them.

✧ not denying the "girlfriend" assumption (pre-relationship)

✧ period fluff with the jjk men.

[spokenfromtheheartandsoul]

idk man like imagine how tired you'd be if YOU had to move to an entirely new place and start all over. not even because of the occupational hazards of your job which would have at least been expected if not reasonable (see: assassins) but instead because your trigger-happy younger brother decided to add live props to an impassioned karaoke performance on a whim and now you've found yourself a co-owner AND manager AND chef to an entire burger restaurant establishment. where the total number of employees other than yourself is a grand total of one (1) aka the same younger brother who has never touched a spatula in his life. and now you're just trying to make decent burgers while settling in to your new neighborhood and stay under the radar while your brother insists on exploring his sense of fashion by dressing in the brightest colors and prints known to man immediately following shifts at your real job (see: ASSASSINS) because it's not like it requires blending into society or anything. and then right when you think you're finally going to have a nice and peaceful friday night at home you get rear-ended by an unhinged and unnecessarily attractive mechanic who insists on fixing your jeep for free but is also SO maddeningly infuriating to interact with that you begin to question whether the free service is worth your sanity. because upon returning to pick up your car the Unhinged Mechanic begins an entirely unprompted striptease to reveal to you that he has - for reasons beyond your comprehension - decided to steal your burger pin. and then he starts going off about his sensitive nipples while he makes YOU take it off of him. and then as if all of THAT wasn't enough you also come home to find your younger brother delightedly getting groped in front of god and your respectable burger establishment in broad daylight while he nuzzles and adoringly stares into the eyes of the exact same cocky one-night-stand you EXPLICITLY warned him to stay away from. and then to top it all off the Unhinged Mechanic has now inexplicably shown up at your closed restaurant and has the audacity to demand service in return for having had to repair the jeep that HE damaged in the first place. because apparently the best place to have a beer is your CLOSED burger restaurant. and although you feel like your actions would be very justified in doing so, you somehow manage to refrain from killing him on sight because you are a Good and Reasonable Assassin. but this also means having to endure watching Unhinged Mechanic down no less than nine beers in one go all while he antagonizes you. and right when you finally decide to put your foot down and kick him out the Unhinged Mechanic decides that THAT is the perfect time to make a move on you. so now not only are you both exhausted and irritated and confused but ALSO sexually frustrated while having to forcibly remove him from your premises by his feet. imagine that. imagine you have to deal with ALL that in the span of 1 week without losing it and somehow YOU'RE the unreasonable and rigid one??????

[thatguywrites]

Hello! I see that you are a guy that writes and so I would like to humbly ask for Oscar Piastri with male!reader who has an unfortunate habit of sleeping anywhere and anytime. On the floor of the garage? Yes. On the podium? Yes. In the actual car during a red flag? Yes.

Many thanks!

Sleepy cats <3

A/N I am in fact a guy who writes!

2 times Oscar has to wake you up at inconvenient times, and 1 time he doesn't

Miami, 2024

It was extreamly hot. The blistering heat, and your dark Mercedes fireproof were a deadly combination as far as you were concerned. It wasn't even fp2 yet, and you felt the most drained you'd ever had in your life. Lewis wasn't fairing well on the other side of the garage either. Trudging inside, and basking in the blasts of air conditioning that came as soon as the doors opened, you meekly looked for your drivers room. As soon as you found it, and managed to get some ice on your forehead and neck, you simply slipped into sweet blissful darkness.

What seemed to be years later, you were shook and kissed awake. Glaring at the man who dared to steal precious sleep from you, you looked up at Oscar, who had some very nervous looking interns behind him. "Well good afternoon sleeping beauty," Oscar laughed out, clearly not sufficiently scared by your glare. "It's time for fp3, so wakey wakey, eggs and bakey alright?" Groaning, you rose from your makeshift bed-couch, bags of now water falling from your neck.

"Ok, ok, got the message, go back to your orange blasted hit alright?"

Stroking your bedhead, Oscar smiled, always so amused by your antics, "I do believe it is Papaya, but I'll see you tonight, Darling" and after one last kiss, he went back to his garage.

Austria, 2024

When Lando and Max took eachother out, giving you an easy win, you had mixed feelings. You'd never say no to a free win, but you'd also rather fight for it. Post race was quite a bore in your opinion. Answering questions about how you were lucky, and just knew how to take advantage of situations. You were just lucky that Oscar was up on the podium with you, letting you be comfortable despite all of the cameras. So comfortable, in fact, that the second you sat down in the cooldown room, recordings of Max and Lando's crash playing on the screen, exhaustion seemed to overcome you, as your head rolled to the side, and you fell asleep.

After what seemed like only a second, you startled awake, opening your eyes to an amused Carlos and Oscar, and tense crew, who as soon as they saw you were awake, began to usher the three of you to the podium. Oscar turned to you and pulled you into a side hug as you walked, "Figured you needed the nap, so I let you sleep as long as you could. Try to keep awake, yeah? Can't have you falling asleep on the podium now, can we?"

You may not have ended up falling asleep on the podium, but you were certainly close. The warm sunlight and heavy exhaustion on your body made it tempting to drop it all for a nap. You'd like to think you hid it well, but a few yawns did slip through, the internet won't let you forget that.

Winter break, 2024-25

The two of your's winter break didn't consist of too much, at least by the standards of the other drivers. Some drivers were off on tropical islands, watching fashion shows, or just being whores on the internet. You and Oscar, however, generally took a tamer approach. Half of your break was spent down under, relaxing on beaches and spending time with family, and you of course. The two of you spent many nights at restaurants or on walks. But the second half of winter break, featured you and Oscar lounging around his Monaco apartment, cuddling, and snacking, and maybe some other stuff. But some nights, you actually had some plans. Or Oscar had plans. And he included you in those plans. Unwillingly, might I add. All you wanted, was to sleep, and cuddle the night away, but no, Oscar set up dinner with Lando. Now, you had nothing against Lando, nothing except that he was taking you away from precious, precious sleep. So, alas, you protested in the best way you could. By trying to sleep through the dinner.

When you awoke, the first thing you saw was the bring rays of the setting sun, putting the time at about, 7. The first thing you thought was that you must have been successful, you slept through dinner, you could continue to be an introvert. And the first thing you felt, was a warm body, curled into your chest, that your arms had unconsciously wrapped around. Looking down, snuggled into your chest, was a sleepy, extreamly koala like, Oscar. Next to him was his phone, still on, open on Lando's text where Oscar seems to have canceled last minute just to sleep in with you.

Taglist: (Comment or DM to be added)

@koalapastries @justaf1girl @spoonfulofmilo @lokisen @op-81-lvr-reblogs

[hoiststowline]

radio silence [w/ hoist, perceptor, & jazz]

Hoist is someone who likely has an abundance of free time, boredom stuck to him like an uncleanable glue. messaging and calls with you are something he looks forward to, entranced by your retelling of the day's events, overeager to hear about what he was up to. he can’t help himself, able to divulge himself when it comes to taking breaks from his daily tasks, always looking for your company if available. so accustomed to your voice that if time passes him by where he’s expecting a call from you, he’s definitely questioning it in the back of his mind. Hoist likely wouldn’t gather the courage to be so forward at first, persuading himself that you hadn’t called because something came up and not because something was amiss. you have things you need to accomplish for the day, getting tied up with another assignment is not anything to get worked up over. 

it’s later the same evening that Hoist breaks the self-restraint, fumbling to give you a call that rings on and on, longer than he’s ever experienced. it dips into your voicemail, to which the green mech offers a supportive and cheerful message, hoping everything is well. toying with the idea the entire time, he eventually concludes the message with an: “I’ve missed you,”. it’s a step outside his comfort zone, saying something so brave over the phone and not in person, but he means it. Hoist misses you so much, and can’t help but fret well into the night that something must be very, very wrong. you’ve never disappeared this long on him before, and while you have situations every now and then where you’re unavailable, you always give him a heads up. being absent for this long raises some distress, insatiable until he hears your voice or sees your face. [preference on the latter].

he steps away from base early the next morning to seek you out. even if he drives past your work to see that your car has moved there, or hopes to catch a glimpse of you on your way out the door. Hoist only finds relief when you call him, rambling apologies over and over. you’re fine, and safe. he doesn’t care the reason for your nonappearance, obviously unless you are hurt or having a problem. you don’t have to explain yourself, but Hoist also can’t keep his composure rightened upon your reunion. his digits find your form and stay there, cradling you to his face as he hums in delight, ecstatic to have you here. he’d likely never tell you just how restless he was, but it’s safe to say all is well in his optics now. 

while Perceptor is known to disappear at times, he’s definitely made better strides to be more vocal and transparent when he is able to do so with you. he enjoys your company, looks for it even when he has the chance to steal you away for a few hours of privacy. however, an unexpected quiet from you is another story, something that sets off alarms in his processor very early on. even when you don’t pick up his call the first time, Perceptor’s brow raises, an audible hum of confusion stumbling forth. he doesn’t bank on you being always available on his schedule, but he’s also well aware that he hasn’t heard from you in a reasonable time frame per your character. when things don’t add up in his mind, he’s pretty quick to set out to find you, asking in passing if anyone has seen you, or knows of your whereabouts. 

while he isn’t the most fondest of communication via technology, he respects its functionality and facility. in instances where he’s away for quite a while, he’s come to anticipate and appreciate your encouraging messages and thoughtful words. Perceptor is well aware that you’ve got him wound around your finger, but he can’t help himself to concede to such small requests you propose every now and then, mostly in his favor regardless. you miss him, and you want to see him. he feels the same, so who is he to tell you no, not now? somewhere along the line, he’s found himself talking to an empty chair, thinking you’re there and seeking your advice but you are attending to your own responsibilities, away. 

Perceptor isn’t going to stop until you’re found, so he does try you a handful more times whilst searching for you. he’d claim he isn’t overly worried, not initially, but his hastened pace gives him away. his only reassurance is perhaps things ran late at work/class, or you had a change of plans that didn’t stick to your schedule. that’s totally fine with him, but if it’s going onto the next day, and still nothing from you? Perceptor is entirely stumped and overly troubled by your unusual behavior. ultimately, upon finding you and discovering the reason for your silence, a sigh of relief can be witnessed in his frame. one that starts in his shoulders, able to visibly see them relax beside a mumble of: “I am so glad you’re alright,”. all he could ever ask is that you’re happy and healthy, so the ease can’t help but flood him when he takes in that you’re well. 

“Radio one to y/n, anybody home?” Jazz isn’t one to fret about impromptu silence on your end, sympathetic to the fact you have daily tasks to be completed that don’t align with his spare time to chat. ever the tease, he’s also very likely to assume you’re being playful or hard to get, sometimes not answering right away or pretending as if he had the wrong number. no, he most definitely has the right number, but plays along if only to hear your fits of giggles. so the first stretch of time with silence from you isn’t insane, and Jazz isn’t all riled up over it until he tries you again later on. then again, knowing full well you are long out of work/class [another mech who has your schedule committed to memory], and you always give him a call afterward. sure, sometimes he can’t be there to pick you up, but he appreciates the check-in more than you understand. you’re safe, and perhaps he can steal some more of your time before being pulled away to responsibilities. 

after the third or fourth try, Jazz leaves a handful of messages. they start a little jokingly, “You’re gonna get it when you finally pick up,” then fall to a little more desperate, “Where did you go? Are you alright?” and eventually settle on something twinged with guilt. “What, did I do somethin’ wrong? Ya mad at me?” you are very important to him, and the grand unknown when he can’t get ahold of you in the way he is so accustomed to, he’s on the move. favors are cashed in if he’s supposed to be elsewhere, and at this point nothing could stop him from heading in the direction of your home. Jazz is also calling you the whole way there as well, ignoring the pit in his stomach that only winds tighter at each going to voicemail, his garbled thoughts filling your inbox and then some. 

his composure remains but it’s a struggle to keep it up when so much worry consumes him. whatever the situation may be, the reason you were away from your phone for a while, he doesn’t need to know. your apologies are not required, all Jazz cares about is that you’re alright, guilty of holding you a little tighter and closer in the aftermath. always gentle, but there’s a protectiveness that brims in him in your regard, and if anything happened to you and he wasted precious time? it’s an unforgivable action in his optics, knowing next time to just head straight to the scene of the crime, either your place or work/class. “Jazz?” you pull back, fingers skating under his chin, wholly in a consoling and gentle manner. “Why did I just get a notification that my voicemail is full?” 

[a/n: many thanks for the suggestions for characters this time around, this was fun to write!! 🫶]

[lcriedlastnight]

Y/n claims to hate Oscar and be constantly annoyed by him, but is the first to comfort Oscar when something bad happens

this is so me core. you are inside my mind anon, ily.

tw: fem!reader, swears, reader takes a trip to egypt to visit a famous river! lmk if you want me to add anything. kinda half proof read ig.

w/c: 863

you were unsure why mclaren even invited you to their garage anymore, after all you did was say how much you hate their australian driver. you never shut up about how much he annoys you and how he constantly thinks he's the shit when he's not. the other mclaren driver has teased you multiple time for never shutting up about him. "for someone who claims to hate him, you're constantly yapping on about him." comes along with that stupid teasing smirk and you then think that the mclaren drivers are your least favourite on the grid.

but by some miracle, you were invited to watch the austrian grand prix with the famous papaya. the free practise and sprint had gone amazingly for the two young drivers. of course it had, the team was on fire at the moment and was getting everything right.

coming off the back of a double podium in the sprint for the boys, they had the race qualifying. now as much as you claimed to hate oscar you could admit that he was a pretty great driver, especially for his second year in f1.

you watch as both of the brightly coloured cars race around the track, their times through q1 and q2 were amazing, but max was just a step above. if mclaren were flying then god knows what max was doing.

you watch as the cars return to the garage and prepare for the most important of them all, q3. lando rushes over to give you a high five which, although it confuses you a little, you are quick to respond. you stay clear of oscar who watches the interaction from his side of the garage. you take your protective headphones off to chat to lando for a second before his race engineer is quick to steal him away. you leave oscar alone as you wait for the beginning of q3.

your headphones are back on as q3 starts. you watch as the cars take their turns racing around the track. you feel like your heart has sunk down to your stomach as you watch the orange enter the pits, before leaving again soon after. as the qualifying comes to close, you are embarrassed to say that as you seen oscar's name slip into second place, right in between lando and max, you felt ecstatic. you would never tell anyone though.

just as that feeling was about to settle in your guts for the rest of the day, it's ripped away from you harshly. or ripped away from oscar, you should say as seconds later his lap time is deleted for exceeding track limits. you feel a burst of anger and frustration race through you as you watch the screens and see his name slide down to seventh. you felt like crying so you could not imagine how oscar felt. you knew it was the sport but god the fia got on your tits sometimes.

you watch as max, lando and george converse with each other waiting for their interviews and you feel bitter as fuck. that should've been oscar. speaking of him, you see his papaya race suit, with that all too familiar helmet walking into where the fia worked to speak with him. you watch as the camera man follows him halfway then retreats. you want to find oscar so badly, you don't think you can wait until he's out of there.

around ten minutes later you catch sight of him, probably heading towards another interview. you head over to him and watch as he retells his feelings to another reporter, explaining how it was from the drivers point of view.

once you are sure he is finished with his interviews you pull him aside to a quiet corner of the mclaren garage, semi-private. it is was as private you could get with cameras all around the place.

"you alright?" you whisper to the boy. oscar's eyebrows jump up in surprise as you ask him about how he is feeling, the question very unexpected from you seeing how much you tell everyone how much he annoys you.

"yeah, nothing i can do about it now. fia have done what they thought was right even though i don't agree. just have to do my best tomorrow to improve on that." oscar tells you, his back straight and tense. you frown, if he was trying to hide his feelings he was failing miserably. the australian was an open book to you. you hum, clearly not believing his response.

"why don't we go somewhere where isn't a shitload of cameras and you can tell me how you really feel?" you ask, voice soft and kind. it's the first time oscar has been on the receiving end of this kindness and it makes all the screws click into place in his brain. the boy grins at you.

"please. that would be great." his smile is enough to make you smile as you place a comforting hand on his shoulder, walking alongside him to the driver rooms. you might have done a good job hiding your feelings from everyone else but oscar was smarter than you gave him credit for.

[etherealspacejelly]

Some of my opinions, in no particular order

golf courses should be abolished. mini golf can stay. actual golf? no. golf courses take up so much water to maintain their grass, grass which, btw, is a monoculture and bad for wildlife. the area that golf courses take up could be used for affordable housing, or natural areas left to grow with wild native plants that are better for the insect populations. but nooo, we gotta use all this land so that stuck up rich people can play the most boring game ever invented. bullshit.

the police should be abolished. i would settle for defunding but really they just need to go.

children are people, treat them as such. kids have thoughts and feelings that are just as real and valid as yours.

on a similar vein, you are allowed to not want children, but that doesn't give you a free pass to hate kids or be mean to kids. they didnt ask to be here, be kind.

there should be a maximum wage. after a certain point, there is no amount of labour you could possibly do to Earn that much money. your workers earned that money, and you are stealing it from them.

there is a difference between millionaires and billionaires. when i say eat the rich im not talking about actors and musicians, im talking about people who are directly responsible for poverty, hunger, suffering, and homelessness around the world. people who hoard obscene amounts of wealth that No One could ever hope to spend in an entire lifetime and simply watch while minimum wage workers struggle to put food on the table and the elderly freeze in their homes.

sex ed should start in primary school, at an age-appropriate level. if kids are old enough to ask questions about sex, they are old enough to learn about it in a safe environment. they should be taught correct anatomical names for body parts (penis, vulva, vagina, etc.).

there should be more research into autism and ADHD in adults, this shit doesn't just go away when you grow up.

diagnostic criteria for disabilities, disorders, and mental health conditions should be written by people who have or have had these conditions. how is someone supposed to know if they have autism, for example, if the symptoms are written from the perspective of someone who has never experienced it?? doesn't make any fucking sense.

hostile architecture should be illegal. unhoused people deserve a place to sleep. or better yet, give them houses. there are literal studies done that prove that housing people saves the government money in the long run, so why aren't we doing that? make it make sense

edit: updated to add more clarity to the golf thing. didn't explain that one well enough and left some people confused

[kiame-sama]

Ruggie: is hungry

MC: feeds him

Ruggie: is this a mate?

But yeah, every time Ruggie gets a human meal, he questions more and more why his ancestors/species ate humans when they could eat with them as he does.

Ruggie knows the Human can cook and he will be begging at their door every breakfast and every dinner. Lunch is more difficult because he knows those other overly protective students would not allow him to get close to the Human. He has already told Grammy Bucchi that he has found the best cook in Twisted Wonderland and she is encouraging him to see if the Human would be willing to come to the slums where his Cackle lives and feeding them this heavenly food.

Ruggie is thrilled Grammy is on board and he very much wishes the Human would teach him to cook. Should the Human ever actually start teaching cooking classes, Ruggie will be the first to sign up and will be willing to steal the sign up sheet so no one else can attend. He will allow Leona to sign up, but that's it. You gotta pry that sheet out of his cold lifeless grippers to add your name and that means catching Ruggie first. Ruggie is not easy to catch and his teeth/claws aren't for show.

Ruggie has also learned that his whooping and cackling draws the Human's attention quickly- likely because the Human is now attuned to Ruggie and Grim's vocalizations due to feeling somewhat responsible for them- so he will start cackling just to get the Human to look at him. Every conversation and every meal makes Ruggie angry that his own kind was so ready to eat Humans on sight instead of just letting the Humans cook a delicious meal for everyone.

His tail wags turbo speed the moment Idia and the Human figure out how to make fried foods- hands free because Idia refuses to let the Human play with hot oil of any kind- and the Human makes donuts. The sweet and soft squish of the fried dough paired with icings of various flavors will make this Gnoll weep to the very Gods for daring to take Humans away. He NEEDS to be the taste tester and he finds his tail wagging every time he thinks of the soft Human that feeds him with regularity.

[barnowlbookworm]

Okie dokie, here’s my rottmnt art process.

First, I sketch with the designated base colors. The base colors are lighter shades. (it helps that if I mess up it’s less noticeable.)

Next, I define the corners, and anywhere lines connect and conjoin, with a darker shade. I also add /fill in a few more details, like shadows and eyes.

And lastly, I color the sketch in with hatching and any other little details I missed.

Lately, I’ve been using references of clips of the show to draw the boys. (I suggest using as many rererences as possible to get the character designs down when starting out. If you use the art of another person as a ref/to copy for practicing, remember to credit them! If you claim it as your own that’s, in a way, stealing and unfair to the og artist :P)

Feel free to ask questions if u have one <3

Oh and I forgot to add one of the most important steps in my process! Put on your Rise playlist and listen to the intro + Loom 16 Take Corridor B on repeat. 😂😂 Get yo head in the zone, put on your tunes so that you may jAmMy jAm.

Less talky talk, more groovy groove.

[thesparklingwriter]

eternity

tags: smut, afab! reader, fem!reader, vanilla, gentle zhong, i think this is still kind of fluffy tbh

word count: 1.6k

a/n: merry Christmas to you all if you celebrate and an early happy birthday to zhongli. this year, i am celebrating two years of him consuming my every waking thought, dream and state of being

masterlist | taglist

You're always so surprised by how gentle your husband is with you. You're surprised that a being with so much raw power could look at someone like you, someone so fragile in comparison, and make the conscious choice to always be so careful. To always cherish everything you do with so much care.

He has never once raised his voice at you, even in times of stress or panic. His word choices are even gentler than the caring tone of his voice, or the warmth of his hand around yours.

Even after days apart, the way he kisses you is gentle, as if he knows he has all the time in the world to be with you. The way he slides his hands to the front of your silken pyjamas, a gift from him once he noticed you kept stealing his, is laced with tenderness and care. His eyes latch onto yours before he continues, and even though you can see the fire burning behind his pupils, the soft look on his face takes precedence.

You nod, answering his silent question as he pulls your lips to his, his hands lazily busying themselves with your buttons as you feel yourself being led to the bed. You know that if you did not want to follow, there would be no complaint, no pushback, and that knowledge warms you. Any attempts you make to return the favour Zhongli does for you as he frees you of your shirt are quietly ignored as he chooses to wholeheartedly focus on you.

His fingers are cautious as they glide over the bare skin of your chest, and even though he's touched you a thousand times, his eyes still seem as fixated on you as they had been the very first time.

"Is this alright?" he asks, and you reply yes, the same way you do almost every time, and his slight, serene smile finds itself on his face again as he gently pulls you towards his lap. Somewhere along the line--when, you don't remember--Zhongli's own shirt has been discarded, and you rest your hands against his bare chest as you lean in for another kiss. If you pay attention, you can feel the steady beat of his heart and the quickened pace of his breathing under your fingers, and if you hadn't felt it for yourself, you wouldn't have believed it. His fingers calmly massage circles into your back before they sneak down to the waistband of your trousers and pause there.

"Waiting for permission?" you tease quietly, pulling away from zhongli for a single second. His heavy lidded eyes are filled with a slight mirth as he smiles at your words.

"I was simply enjoying the moment," he replies, his voice low and rumbling. "I can continue, unless you have other plans?"

You smile at the way he doesn't take offence to your teasing, the way he languidly pulls the waistband of your trousers further down and helps as you try to navigate getting them off while straddling him. You're grateful that he had the foresight to remove your underwear at the same time as your trousers--you wouldn't have to figure out how to get those off.

Even the way he moves to lay you on your back is graceful. His fingers gently find their way up your thighs, and you're already agreeing to let him touch you before the words 'may I?' leave his mouth. He's careful with his ministrations, slipping one finger into you first, and letting you get used to the feeling--or rather, teasing you with it--before he adds a second, watching your face carefully to gauge his movements. He knows you like the back of his hand, he knows what the quiet whimper that escapes your mouth means, but chooses to pretend he doesn't.

"Tell me what you need, dearest." he whispers. "I'd be happy to oblige."

You fidget under him, another half-formed whimper escaping your lips before you manage to force out a single word.

"More," you whisper. "Please." your hand grips at his arm, but Zhongli doesn't seem to care as he curls his fingers inside you.

"More?" he repeats under his breath. if it weren't for the telltale rasp in his voice, you would have assumed he was unaffected by your desperate whines. "More what? I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific, my dear."

But his words are just for show and he does exactly what you know you want, a smile creeping up on his lips again as he feels your walls tightening around his fingers and your nails dig into his arm.

"Go on," He whispers. "Make a mess for me." Your eyes meet his, and even though his words are a command at face value, you hear the quiet inklings of a request in his voice, as if he needs you to cum on his fingers more than anything else in this world. The look on his face when you oblige him with a quiet whimper is nothing short of fascination and pride--he's infatuated with you, your smile, your eyes, the way you fidget under him desperate for more than one release.

"Good girl," he whispers, gently massaging your hip with his hand, scanning your face for discomfort. He doesn't find any.

He brings his other hand to his mouth, and you cover your face, the sight of him licking you off his fingers too much for you to bear.

"Hmm? What's the problem, beloved?" he asks gently, using the hand that was once massaging your hip to reveal your face to him.

"It's embarrassing," you whine, and Zhongli can't help but chuckle a little at that. He finds it humourous that this is where you draw the line but doesn't question you further, turning his attention to undoing his belt.

You hear him discard his trousers as he leans over you and captures your lips in a gentle kiss.

"Stop teasing me," you complain, and Zhongli once again chuckles, amused by the slight frustration in your face.

"I am in no particular hurry," he smiles. "Is it a crime to want to savour this moment with you?"

"Yes." you reply immediately, and Zhongli realises that perhaps his actions up to this point have been bordering on cruel.

"Very well."

Zhongli gently takes your hand in his as he lines his cock between your folds, and begins to roll his hips at an agonizingly slow pace. You think that once again, he means to tease you, to rile you up, but when you look up at up and see the devotion in his eyes... You're embarrassed for even thinking that way in the first place.

"Are you alright, love?" He whispers, gently burying his face in the crook of your neck after asking, and you nod breathlessly.

"More than alright," you reply between moans, wrapping your legs around his waist, and your arm around his neck. "You're always so good."

Your words have a stronger effect on him than he'd ever thought any person ever could, and his hips stutter and still for a few moments, disrupting the lazy rhythm he'd cultivated. He kisses your neck in response "And you always take me so perfectly."

When Zhongli lifts his head from your neck to focus his attention elsewhere, and the steady pace of his thrusting speeds up, you lace your fingers through his hair. Zhongli notices the signs of the familiar tension building in you, as you squeeze his hand tighter.

"Li, I'm—" you whine, but Zhongli doesn't even need you to finish your sentence to know what you're about to tell him. His intense gaze locks onto yours, telling you everything you could ever want to know, and you pull him back down to your neck as your orgasm consumes you.

You barely even notice when Zhongli's movement still entirely, distracted by the way his teeth catch on the soft part of your neck. You want to laugh. Zhongli has bitten on that same spot on your neck maybe a hundred times, and yet, he's still worried he might hurt or startle you. He attempts to pull away from your neck for a second to look at you, but you drag him to the side instead, wrapping your arms and legs around him tighter.

He begins to ask if you're alright, but the content sigh that slips from your mouth as you attempt to pull him even closer answers his question for him, and he takes a moment to appreciate the movement in its entirety.

He is always surprised by you, by the way you treasure him, by the way you see and appreciate the power he holds, yet treat him the same as you would had he been entirely human. He has lived for thousands of years before you, and will live for thousands of years after, and you know that, but you've never let that knowledge harden your heart or make you believe that he deserves less of you because of it.

Your fingers gently drag against his scalp, the other hand absentmindedly stroking his back, and more than anything, Zhongli is grateful that with you he doesn't have to be an archon or a god or an immortal being with all knowledge of the world and its idiosyncrasies. With you, he is just himself, and he knows you would never begrudge him for that.

"Just a little longer?" You whisper, when you feel Zhongli attempt to move again, no doubt to carry you to a bath that was designated for you, but one he would ultimately find himself in too at your wishes.

"If I were able to," Zhongli whispers back, gently moving your hair out of your face. "I would gift you eternity."

© 2023, thesparklingwriter. please do not copy, edit, repost, or translate.

notes: drops this, runs, hides, doesn't open tumblr until the 31st of dec

[shynetyme06]

It's here!! to celebrate 1k followers, my own draw this in your style, featuring my variant of PJ :>

Rules and prizes under the cut! (reblogs highly appreciated 🫶) (also cant forget: og PJ belongs to @7goodangel)

Rules:

You can choose any of these three outfits to draw! feel free to add or remove things as you see fit, just keep them recognizable.

same goes for the pose/composition. The main idea is PJ jumping/falling while using paint magic, and its perfectly fine to switch the position and flow to something you're most comfortable with :>

No tracing, and definitely no AI. (basically, stealing is not allowed. lmao)

Deadline is January 12th, one month from now. (this time is just for the prizes, feel free to join any time after if you want to! I'll be reblogging all the entries anyway ^^)

Use the tag #Shynes1kdtiys, and @ me in the post so there's no chance of me missing your entry :>

Prizes:

1st place: Full body drawing, up to 3 characters

2nd place: Half body drawing, up to 2 characters (3 for chibi style)

3rd place: Bust drawing, up to 2 characters

Feel free to ask any questions you need for clarification, be it in my ask box or dms!

and lastly, THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH!!! even if you don't end up joining, I'm so happy that you guys enjoy what I share with you, and I hope you'll like what I've planned for this AU, and other stories I'm gaining the confidence to post about <3

[six-eyed-samurai]

"Join the Cleaners."

She shoots a deadpan look at him, head tucked into the crook of her elbow. One leg lazily kicks at his, causing a yell that makes her chuckle slowly. "Told you. Nope."

"Why not?" The blond scooted his stool closer, resting his head on his hand to stare intently at her. The drinks sat forgotten between them.

"Enjin, you've been seeing me nearly every day at this damn bar and asking me the same question for so long. When are you gonna give up?"

He grins. "When you join the Cleaners."

"God, you're so annoying." She shoved him away without any real force. "I'm doing okay. I don't need to join the Cleaners."

"But we need as many Givers as possible," Enjin persisted. "And I've seen you in action - you're really amazing. Besides, you know everyone and everyone likes you. I like you. I wanna see you more, not at some seedy booze house where you reject me every day."

"Reject?" She prodded at the cup, averting her eyes. "I've got my reasons. I've told you a million times already I'm not interested."

"What possible reason could there be? You get free boarding, meals, water, if you're materialistic. Don't act like you don't wanna see the team either." What a pest he can be; it almost carves a smile on her face. "I'll even take your rejection - the romantic one, I mean - if you come join. I'll buy your tab and everything."

She reaches out and flicks a finger at his face. "Tempting. I feel almost convinced."

Enjin rubs at the sore spot, frowning as he watches her down the rest of her drink and get to her feet. He swiveled around in his seat, wishing he was a little less sober to not feel disappointed as she strides towards the exit.

"Sorry, Enjin, but it's a hard pass."

"See you tomorrow?"

"If I can make it." She glances back and her face adds, You know I will.

"M'kay. Stay safe - !"

She stops short. "That's new. What's the matter?"

"Nothing?" Enjin raises his eyebrows in surprise. "Just thought - you've got a black eye."

"Oh. That."

She walks out pretty quickly and Enjin goes back to nursing his cup, wondering if a cigarette will fix the twinge he feels at the funny tone she had.

***

The next night he sees her, she's slumped on the counter. Enjin might've thought she'd drunk herself into a stupor if he hadn't known she could hold her liquor like crazy and there were no cups in sight. He slides in beside her, tapping her cheek to wake her up.

"Good evening, sleeping beauty. Whatever happened to your face?"

She gingerly brushes a thumb across her busted lip. "Accident. No big deal."

"Looks like a big ouch. I can clean it up for you, or that shoulder still hurts you can go to the Cleaner HQ with me. We've got a pretty good medic and you can spend the night with me...uh, not in that way."

"Funny, Enjin, and thanks for the offer. I'm fine though - or, I'll be fine," She corrects herself upon seeing his face.

"Y'know, I've been thinking-"

"Don't do that, it'll hurt your head."

Enjin huffs. "You're always so mean to me. As I was saying, I wanna know. Do you keep rejecting me because you think I'm just trying to get you to join the Cleaners or that I wanna get in your pants and vanish the next day?"

"Well, dunno, you do look like a womanizer." She enjoys a laugh at his hurt, melodramatic expense. "Nah, it's not that. I'm just...spoken for..."

"You're taken?" Enjin's mouth falls open comically. "Shit, I am so sorry, I didn't mean to be disrespectful or anything -"

"It's alright, I'd rather it not affect us or anything." She shrugs and steals his drink.

Enjin works on closing his jaw. "Why didn't you say something before?"

"..." She makes a face. "Sometimes... never mind. Forget it - you know now, don't you?"

"Yeah, but-"

"I'll set you on fire with your drink if you press the subject." She props her chin up with her hand and leans forward, trying to smile through disturbed eyes. "So? What Trash Beast has Enjin the Great slain today?"

***

"Haha! Look at all that energy."

That kid that fell from the sky sure was interesting! Enjin's right as always, watching, grinning from his view up above as he watches absolute havoc gets wrecked upon his captors, swinging the chain around like mad. Man, it was powerful.

Two of the men rush forward in a futile attempt to subdue the kid, but Enjin's attention is transfixed on the one that's staying behind, cowering behind their howling leader. Odd, really odd, because they're wearing a mask and seem familiar...if he had a minute to think he could work out where Enjin had seen them before, certainly-

"Kill that little shit! Why are you still here?!" The one with the bitten finger yanked the mask off their face and struck them hard, hard enough to twist their head and cause a nosebleed. "You're a Giver, aren't you?! Do something!"

She drags a hand across her bloodstained face, nodding fearfully, before scrambling to her feet and launching an attack with her own jinki.

Enjin nearly falls off in surprise. What the hell are you doing here?!

Obeying the orders of some lowly human traffickers, no less, reluctantly using your Giver powers to protect and attack and defend? Have them screaming at you and be threatened?

How long, exactly, had this been happening under his nose?

Everything about her makes sense, suddenly - but he'll deal with it later, because right now -

"Whoa, for real?!"

"He can use more than one object?!"

They're all knocked out by the end of it (Enjin wincing when the tyre smashes into her), save for that cursing, son of a nice lady leader. Enjin considered letting the kid take him out as well, in retaliation for hitting her - wait, how long had that been going on? - but with a sigh he made his way down there to stop even more hell being unleashed.

He'll come back for you later, Enjin silently promises as he takes the kid away. Come back for answers and whether she likes it or not, far, far away from whatever secret life she'd been leading.

***

She doesn't show up at the bar for three days and Enjin's starting to really despise the shitty drink.

He's lighting a cigarette when a hand reaches out and snatches it from him, to slide it into her own mouth. "I want one."

"Hey, you're here - damn."

"Something on my face?" She raises an eyebrow, gesturing for her own drink.

"Yeah, a lot. Shit, when did - who did this?"

Enjin grabs her face and tilts it up, gaping at the multiple tiny cuts the bandage on her cheek doesn't cover, at the split lip and bruises. He's an idiot. He should've gone looking for her the moment she didn't show up that night.

She grimaces, trying to pry off his hands. "Hands off, jaw's still sore."

"No shit - you look like you went through hell." Why is she so calm, so casual about this? Like they're just talking about the weather? "Why?"

"Why what?" Her fingers play with the cigarette.

"Don't give me that shit, why? Why didn't you tell me - I was there when you tried to kidnap the Sphereite, you know."

Her eyes widen and the cigarette nearly falls out from shock...shame? "You were? Wondered where the kid went."

What a liar. He can practically hear the prayers in her tone, hope that he hadn't seen her be slapped and pushed around and attempt to attack a-

"Just tell me everything. Please." He tucks a strand away, grazing past a scab. "All those times you wouldn't let me walk you home, those wounds...I should've guessed. Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

"Hey, don't beat yourself up. I didn't want you to know." Her gaze trails off behind his shoulder. "There's nothing to tell. I sell Sphereite body parts for a living. There you go."

"Cut the crap. I saw the way he hit you. He's your - right?" Enjin pulls his stool closer to her. "Just out with the truth. I'm not going to - I won't do anything to you, promise."

The cigarette burns out and she crushes it against the counter top. "I didn't know at first. I just got...mixed up in it. If I could, I'd - I'd never have gone back with him."

"Go on. Please."

"He wasn't that bad at first. I found out what they were really doing and I said I wanted out. But Givers are hard to come by and they got very physical about it." She shrugs and looks away, gingerly holding her cheek, other hand drumming fingers on the wood. It's sad - she's not supposed to say all that like they were unchangeable facts or glance at him from the corner of her eye like she expects him to be disgusted any moment.

"Why didn't you tell me? Could've helped you leave. I would've done anything. You just got involved, you're not a bad person. Or stay because you think you deserve it."

It's a little too quiet. She's chewing her lip. "... didn't want you to look at me any different. You're the only - yeah. Coming here is the only thing I've got to look forward to."

"I'd never do that." Enjin shakes his head vehemently. "Only would've made me wanna take you back with me more. Even if I have to practically kidnap and haul your stubborn ass all the way to Cleaner HQ."

"You wouldn't dare." A ghost of smile flits across her face. "I did want to join. I didn't mean to reject you so much, but - you get the idea."

He props up his head with his hand, smirking. "So, you'll join now? Don't worry about them. If anyone comes looking for you they'll have to go through me first, as cliché as that sounds."

"God, you're cheesy." The swat at his face is worth it. "Promise?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die."

"What about the kid? He's with you, ain't he?"

"You afraid Rudo's gonna hold a grudge?" Enjin briefly considered it. "Absolutely, but it'll be fine. Probably."

"That kid is actually scary - you're taking the heat if anything happens."

"Well, ouch. Hey, does this mean I can finally take you out for dinner or something?"

She jabbed a finger into his cheek. "You're paying. For every date."

"I get more than one?! Great!"

They say the third time's the charm, but maybe thirty two is Enjin's lucky number, because that's when he finally gets to take her back with him.