#have i read worm? no but it does feel like i should have

[euthymiya]

[ ASKING PRICE — FT. KINICH ]

synopsis: kinich isn’t so happy that you spend time with ajaw. you’re more than willing to pay the price to make up for it

before you read: gender neutral reader ; established relationship ; slightly jealous kinich (of ajaw getting more attention) ; ajaw cameo! ; lots of kisses ;) (kinich not ajaw)

You laugh, and Kinich’s vein all but pops.

Normally, he’s agitated by Ajaw on most hours of most days. That much is a well known fact. But not today, though—because today, he’s absolutely infuriated. (And no, this is not on a limited, conditional, restricted, contractual, partial, temporary basis. This anger is very much here to stay and not go anywhere.)

You’re here to complete a commission with him, not spend your time giggling with a certain saurian. And your kindness is very much wasted going towards someone as pompous as Ajaw—still, there’s a part of him that admires it. Only you could manage to be kind to someone as difficult to get along with.

What he doesn’t admire, however, is that you happen to be the one person Ajaw also doesn’t mind being kind to. (Well, as kind as someone like Ajaw can get, that is.)

“—and when the Almighty Dragonlord, K'uhul Ajaw summons the howling winds, and sets the whole world ablaze, you can be the only survivor!”

It’s a grating voice, Kinich thinks distantly, rolling his eyes at the way you chuckle and give a grateful nod, entertaining the pure nonsense of a fool. Ajaw has approximately the same brain power as a dead saurian. That’s to say: none. How you manage to laugh at jokes made by such a simpleton is beyond the comprehension of someone like Kinich—but he supposes you’ve always been kind to a fault. A pity laugh certainly isn’t something you’re above, he supposes.

“Will I have the luxury of ruling by your side as your trusty sidekick?” You play along. It seems to please the dragon, earning a haughty laugh.

“I suppose you can have a small corner to call yours,” he agrees, “just make sure you push that slimy, slithering, miserly worm off a cliff and I’ll allow it.”

You glance over at Kinich as soon as the words are uttered by the obnoxious loud mouth beside you, and he can feel the last of his veins snap—that is, until you smile, giving him a playful wink.

“I’ll see what I can do,” you giggle.

“See?” Ajaw turns to look at him, making Kinich’s eye twitch ever so slightly. “You should be more like this one! The Almighty Dragonlord—h-huh? Hey!”

“Kinich!” You scold, watching as Ajaw cuts himself off with a scream, flying off into the distance from one irritated flick of Kinich’s fingers.

“What?” He huffs, crossing his arms as you throw your head back and laugh.

“You’re cute, you know. When you get like that.”

“Like what?” It comes out as a grumble. A rather petulant one, at that—he almost cringes hearing it in his own tone.

He knows what you mean, too. You know he does, so you reach over to ruffle his hair as his lips curl into a deeper frown. It’s not lost on you, however, that he almost seems to lean into your touch, almost seems to savor the feeling of your palm against his head.

“It’s cute when you’re jealous,” you tease. “Adorable, you know? Seeing you sulk is a bit rare.”

“I was not sulking,” he protests. That, of course, pulls a laugh out of you that makes him sulk even harder. “And I’m not jealous. Being jealous of Ajaw is absurd.”

“Oh but I think you were,” you nudge his shoulder, lips stretching into a knowing grin as he grunts. “Don’t worry, I’d never push you off a cliff.”

“That’s because you’d never manage to,” he shrugs. You give him a playful scowl as you huff, you don’t know that, under your breath. He fights back an amused smile, trying to keep his seriousness in tact. “Have you had enough fooling around? We have a commission to complete. You’re going to make me lose out on mora.”

“Is that so?” You say thoughtfully.

By now, Kinich knows that face. It’s not a very welcomed face, either—it means trouble for him. Some form of scheming on your end that almost always ends with you getting what you want, and almost always ends with him walking away as a loser of sorts. It’s his own fault, of course. Being powerless against your charms is a weakness he’s not entirely managed to overcome yet.

But he’s trying—and he’ll get it one day. He’s sure of it.

“I don’t like that face,” he says dryly, eyeing you cautiously.

“What face?” You gasp, mock innocence feigned even as the mischief creeps into your eyes. He can see it. Sense it. Feel it. Almost like he can tell a foe is coming even before they strike—it’s a practiced precision of sorts.

“That face you make when you’re up to something. I can tell you have something up your—”

You cut him off with a kiss to the corner of his mouth, making him go silent almost instantly. A small part of him can feel his cheeks burn, but the bigger part of him melts before he can even comprehend it.

“What if I paid you a better price,” you murmur, “and commissioned some of your time?”

A hand trails up his chest, rubbing slowly against the expanse of it over his shirt, stopping just over his heart. Evil, he wants to tell you, how evil you are to rest your palm right over his erratic heart.

Like you sense the pounding beat, you grin sweetly.

“You’ll need a better price than that,” he mumbles quietly when he finally finds his voice, clearing his throat subtly.

“Haggling over prices with me?” You pout. “Not even I can get a discount.”

“Of course not,” he says stubbornly. A strong arm wraps around you, pulling you against his sturdy chest as you bite back a grin. “I only accept offers with appropriate prices.”

“Fine,” you pretend to roll your eyes in defeat, leaning in to press a firm peck to his lips. “Will that cover it?”

“Not quite,” his arms tighten around you, pulling you closer. Impossibly closer. So close, you think his lips could knock into yours from a gentle breeze alone.

But he’s still. Patient. Painfully observant as his eyes stare into you and wait for what he wants—and, well, Kinich always gets his asking price. One way or another, he never walks away short of a single mora.

Or kiss.

So you lean in, pressing your mouth to his as your hands cup his face, tracing the skin above his cheekbone delicately as he sighs softly. His eyes flutter closed, and briefly, he thinks how nice it is when it’s just you. And him. And no Ajaw.

He should keep it like that more often.

He needs it, you think. Needs to feel you up close and personal, needs to know you’re here and staying, needs to know you’re his and only his.

He lets out a soft sound of protest when you finally break away, earning a quiet chuckle from you before you plant a sweet kiss to his jaw.

“How was that?” You whisper, kissing along his jawline, earning a small shiver of approval from him. “Was that payment enough?”

“I suppose for now,” he mumbles.

“Now you’re just being greedy,” you tease, grinning against his skin.

But you know as well as he does, you’re than happy to afford his prices. And then some, too. You’re as generous about spending as he is enthusiastic with taking.

“Or maybe you’re just being stingy,” he shoots back. With a fond shake of your head, your lips are back on his, cradling his face as he leans into you until he can’t tell where you start and where he ends.

It’s hard not to give into your charms, but he’s not so sure it’s a losing battle. It feels suspiciously close to a win, in fact—that is, if Ajaw stays far, far away. (And again, it would be nice if it was not on a limited, conditional, restricted, contractual, partial, temporary basis.)

He’s sooooo cute and his backstory literally haunts me I want to kiss him so bad you guys don’t get it. I was supposed to skip him but 173 wishes later I now have a c4 diluc and a c0r1 kinich 🥹

[abnomi]

random assorted headcanons for Turbo because I like thinking and having fun !!!! 🎉

Read More to Find Out...or are you too scared?... i bet ur too scared ahaha youre too scared Lol! Hahaahaaa!!!

The steering wheel of his kart is covered in bite marks, similar to how one would bite their favorite pencil. he bites things to mark his territory because Nobody is gonna touch that unless they want all of his diseases (150+).

i just know he was fighting to restrain himself not to chew on any of the candy civilians

when it comes to music, he doesn't see the point of listening to it. he doesn't have enough patience to really take it in; to him, it's just a thing that exists and not much more than that ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ ∵⁠ )⁠_⁠/⁠¯

adding onto that point, this guy listens to metal clanking sounds and loud engine roaring for entertainment because he likes things that would overstimulate any normal person. turbo is incredibly sensory-seeking and will do anything for The Sensations

someone should take him to a heavy rock concert i think it would change him a little. keep that thang on a leash

related to being sensory-seeking, i think he would absolutely love running his hands over random textures. if anyone has run their hands along a wall while walking alongside it...He does that...If u know u know... he is SO stimmy its unbelievable. Unreal.

very pain-tolerant. he'll whine and complain about it for attention, but physical hurt really doesnt bother him much until it gets in the way of what he wants to do.

funnily enough, he is very picky when it comes to temperature. he can handle getting ran over but if its 1° too hot or cold he'll start nagging and nagging for it to go back to normal. turbo really needs his own enclosure i think it'd do him a lot of good

this is a more popular headcanon and its canon-leaning, but he's an artist :-] he usually sticks to graffiti art because its generally considered more "rebellious and cool" but he also sketches cars, design decals, and other stuff when hes alone!

i would love to see his process of character designing king candy because i dont think he really knew what he was doing

he was just like "ok what does a generic king look like. uhhhhh.... 1, old and jolly like santa claus.... 2.... uhh crown..... 3......... purple.... FUCK YEAH im so good at this!!!!🔥🔥🔥"

i just noticed how his design has like 0 actual candy motifs aside from his bow being a candy wrapper and his shoes having those little gumdrop end pieces. what was he THINKING

while King Candy has a lisp, i think it's a coverup for his actual voice because of how goofy and recognizable it is. Overall its the same as his regular voice, he just gets silly with it. i noticed that he still does retain some of his lisp when hes screaming his lungs out at Vanellope, however, so maybe he genuinely does have a lisp that makes itself known when furious :3

another thing i noticed is how he hisses his S's. very cool very cool the reptilian

@/tasticturbo made a post abt how he has tinnitus from the constant noise in his game and i couldnt agree more

AND THE PRESCRIPTION GLASSES. where did he get those...he needs to See

side note, the aforementioned account has made so many interesting analyses on turbo and theyre all so insightful. i recommend u check them out

i think he gets migraines from stress. constant buzzing or pain flood his head but hes like "IDGAF i need to DO something at ALL TIMES no matter what"

hes like a shark in that way. if hes not moving he'll die instantly. idk a lot about sharks or if thats how it works srry but im going off of what the Worms are saying to me and i dont have much to work with

i think a really big contributer as to why he lacks in the self care department is because he fails to notice that something in his body is wrong. hes far too distracted on something he thinks is more important than remembering to Eat Food or Drink Water or Wash Himself or

he's like "WHY DO I FEEL LIKE SHIT ALL OF THE TIME!!! I HATE MY LIFE" and he hasn't slept in 4 days

hes so me. Sorry.

i dont think turbo is necessarily suicidal, but the way he behaves shows a clear disregard for his own safety and wellbeing. he thinks that he knows what he needs but he really doesnt :-[ i think he has some kind of immortality complex, feeling untouchable and like nothing could get to him. as scared as he was when ralph was about to turn him into sloppy mush, he didnt take the threat very seriously. like it was some kind of joke

his kart regenerates every time his game starts up, so what if he smashed it into buildings for fun. He's the number one fan of car accidents. he is all about that shit

i think his living space would literally be a garage btw. its a place to sleep and a space for his car all in one!! he thinks its very convenient and awesome but i think he is coping. he has some old dingy stained sheetless mattress that he has never washed in his life and its covered in dirt and smoke particles. no wonder he has such heavy eye bags Dude Please

the turbo twins have a garage used in a similar way, and while its still pretty shitty, they still at least TRY to maintain it. they just fight a lot over who has to care of it. nobody taught them how to take turns ever

but this aint about them. maybe another day

i think that turbo would find comfort in garbage and keeping it around because its familiar to him. a big clean empty space would make him so mad and if anyone moves even an inch of scrap off to the side he will throw a fit. he generally doesnt pay attention to his surroundings but when its his personal space he is 1093 times more neurotic

i think the big empty castle he stole wouldve been a big transition for him. maybe it helped him clear his mind a little more to practice his tricky schemes...it helped him get more subtle

thats all i have for nowww ty for reading ^_^ if anyone else has any wacky ideas pleeeease tell me i would love to hear them!!

[why-is-it-always-autumn]

Why is my mom asking if I've read Worm?

[altfire]

complaining about how hard it is to write bc i don't read but still refusing to read bc its boring to me

[charliemwrites]

Part 9 of Charmed Slasher Simon

(CW: this is all basically noncon. Like, yeah they had a “deal” but it’s not like it was agreed on in good faith ya know? Stay safe while reading, please, and let me know if this warning needs to be more descriptive)

You shake as Simon trails his fingers absently along your tummy, amused by the way it twitches, tickling and frightened in equal measures. So much he wants to do to you, but only so much you’ll be able to take for this first little triste.

Besides, though not long for this world, there’s only so much he wants that little worm to see of you.

“You ever spend so long fantasizing about something that when the moment finally comes, you’re just spoiled for options?” he muses aloud, pinching your nipples through your thin shirt. He can hear the high pitched noises trapped in the back of your throat, tsks at the denial.

“I’m usually a decisive man, you know that, sunshine. But all the things I want to do to you…”

You squirm when he pinches a bit harder, adding a little twist. He shuffles his knee between your thighs and pulls you back, making you grind against his thigh with every involuntary twitch and shudder.

“Could bruise this pretty ass for running out into the snow like that, reckless thing.” You jolt when he palms the plush fat of one cheek. “Or I could just torture your tight little hole. Leave that pretty pussy aching…”

You make a noise like a sob as his thumb rubs through the layers of your pants and underwear. You try to lean away but he’s got such a tight grip on your wrists that all it does is arch your back.

He inches his fingers over the crest of your hip again, dips back to your swollen clit and soaked cunt. Hell, you’re even wetter than before, a sticky line running down your thigh, fabric clinging to overheated skin. He groans against your throat, has to see it for himself.

You try to protest as he yanks your waistbands down to mid thigh, but he quiets you with those same two fingers stuff in your mouth, teeth scraping his knuckles. You nearly gag as he pets the back of your tongue, imagines how it’ll feel against the fat head of his cock.

In the firelight, you’re gleaming, something out of a fever dream. He leans you back farther and forces your legs wider with his own, lets the heat caress at the insides of your thighs, the creamy slick webbing between your lips.

“Fuck, maybe I should just play with this, huh?” He rasps. “Watched you do it so many times. You don’t know how to edge yourself properly, luv. Always let yourself give in too soon.”

You make a startled noise, huge, watery eyes finding his. He chuckles at the mortified question in them, teases his fingertips over your slit.

“Yeah, sunshine. I watched you fuck this pretty pussy, cryin’ ‘n pleadin’ for me,” he purrs in your ear. “Took everythin’ in me to let you have your fun, to keep from showin’ you how it’s done…”

He circles a finger over your clit, a barely-there brush that makes your pretty wet lashes flutter. Over and over, watches that flush bloom steadily over your face, down your neck. The haze glossing over your eyes.

“How about that, hm? We’ll start from the beginning and work our way through my list.”

He slips his fingers from your mouth, watches you lick unconsciously at the taste of him lingering on your lips.

“Y-you’re not gonna…?”

He tilts his head, narrows his eyes. Fills in the blanks and can’t help growling.

“Oh, you want me to hurt you, is that it?” he asks. “You want - no, you need an excuse to hate me. You’re hoping I tear you up so that you have an easy out for all these confusing feelings.”

You try to babble out a denial but the shock in your eyes is all the confirmation he needs. He tamps down his anger by dragging his teeth along your neck, working a dark mark into the skin.

You don’t know any better, he reminds himself. But you will.

“Don’t you worry, luv, there will be plenty of punishment for you,” he rumbles. “But you’re going to beg me for it.”

You open your mouth, maybe to deny it, but he pinches your sensitive little clit between two fingers and revels in the way you squeal.

He instantly soothes the ache with gentle circles, trailing kisses along your jaw. Tastes fresh salt on your skin.

“Best save your tears, precious,” he warns, smirking. “You’ll need them.”

He parts your lips with two fingers, leaving you open and exposed, groaning through his teeth at the sight of you. Wet and swollen, so needy for him. You try to buck away when he rubs a finger over your clit, firm strokes up and down.

“If you don’t stay still and take it like a good girl, I’ll tie you down and make you be a good girl.”

You duck your chin, eyes squeezed miserably shut as you try to lock down your body. It’s ridiculously endearing, how you wiggle and then catch yourself, breath hitching as you wait for him to lose patience. He hums whenever you start getting to squirmy, delights in the way you shiver and sink your teeth into your lip. Settle down only for him to change the tempo or the pattern and ruin all your self control.

He amuses himself drawing patterns all over your pulsing clit - circles and stars. Hearts that make your eyes roll back in your head. Zig zags from your weeping hole up to the very top of your slit.

It takes a while for you to truly approach your orgasm with the way he denies you a proper rhythm to build on. But he notices the moment you finally start to reach that peak, not even his reminder to hold still can keep you from twitching and rocking, helpless little jolts of your hips.

He coos. “So desperate to finish. Is it because you think I’ll be done with you once you do?”

You don’t answer, too busy trying to get more friction, more pressure. He lets you rush right up to the edge and then stops, skipping down to circle your hole. Luxuriates in the fresh flood of wetness coating your thighs. It yanks you back like a dog on a leash, your orgasm right there but just out of reach.

You don’t even seem to realize what’s happened for a second, mouth hanging open and a cute little furrow between your brow. When he chuckles, teasing up to that sensitive bundle of nerves again, it seems to click. You shoot him a dismayed look, the most precious hint of betrayal lurking in your glassy irises.

“N-no…” you nearly beg.

He smirks, nips at your puffy bottom lip. “You can say no if you like. Or even stop. We had a deal, though, didn’t we?”

“R-Riley…”

You scream when he spanks your pussy. Not nearly as hard as he craves, but it sends pretty streamers of tears down your hot cheeks. Another, two fingers directly to your clit. You nearly crumple, only his hold on your wrists keeping you upright.

“My real name, sunshine, or I’ll give you a reason to say no,” he warns.

“S-Simon,” you whimper, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

He shushes you, petting apologetically at your throbbing core.

“I know, luv, I know. But you’ll never learn if I don’t teach you right.”

The tears don’t stop as he drags you right up to the edge again, bullying through the lingering sting of getting spanked with overwhelming pleasure. When he pulls back a second time, you start up the “no’s” again, voice shattered into pathetic little pieces.

“That’s alright,” he murmurs, “say whatever you need to get you through, I won’t be mad.”

He gets you so so close once again, cock twitching against your ass as it grinds back against him. But he lightens his touch, not stopping but not letting you fall, easing the pressure up and up and up until even the slightest graze would break you.

Instead, he pulls away entirely to squeeze at the plush of your thighs and hips, cooing over the way they shake for him.

“Simon,” you sob, tucking into his chest. He slows his touches, watching you try to curl into him, chest burning with something bloodier than love. “Simon, please. It hurts.”

He hums, sliding his hand back up to your pussy, massaging your labia. Careful not to touch your needy clit.

“It hurts, hm?” he croons, unable to keep the mean pleasure from his voice. “It wasn’t supposed to. Where does it hurt?”

You hiccup, sniffle. “M-my… my…”

“Tell me, sunshine, or I can’t make it better.”

You fold a bit, bounce, almost like a tantrum. So out of control on sensation and emotion that you can’t keep it together as you form the words.

“M-my pussy. It — I need…”

He hums again, fingers trailing down to your hole. Teases his finger at your entrance and feels it spasming around nothing.

“So empty,” he breathes. “Is that it, luv? Your little cunt is aching to be filled?”

You shudder on a cry but nod, face hidden against his neck. He lets you, far too endeared by your attempts to find comfort from the man torturing you in the first place.

“Hurts,” you repeat.

“Do you hate me yet?” he mocks.

You keen softly. “Y-yes.”

A tap to your clit again. If you weren’t so strung out you’d probably even find it pleasurable but right now it makes you writhe and beg him to stop.

“Dont lie,” he warns, voice low, “where are my good girl’s manners?”

“‘M sorry,” you whine.

“One more time now - do you hate me yet?”

Your words seem to get caught up in your throat so you shake your head. Hes tempted - so, so tempted - to make you admit it aloud. But he doesn’t want to be too mean, not yet.

“Good girl,” he whispers, “that’s my girl. You want me to make you feel better now?”

You sniffle again, lean back into him a bit more. “Please.”

“There we go,” he praises, “nice and polite. I’ll take care of you, luv.”

Your body is so ready that it’s nothing for him to slide a finger into you, slick already running down his palm.

“N-no no,” you mumble.

“No what? I’m making you feel better.”

“‘S not — need more. Please, please, Simon.”

It’s hearing his real name in your small, reedy voice that finally appeals to what little mercy he has. He fits two fingers into your cunt and curves them to rub your silky walls.

“Fuck, you’re tight, sunshine,” he groans through his teeth. “You’re gonna choke my cock.”

You squeal as he starts rocking his hand, fucking you at an easy pace, getting you accustomed to the new stimulation. Starts building up your orgasm again, piece by moaning piece, finding every spot that makes your back bow with pleasure.

“Please, please, lemme cum this time Simon, I’ll be good, I promise.”

He huffs in amusement, caressing his thumb over your crossed wrists.

“Oh baby, you don’t have a choice.”

He flattens his palm against your core and pumps his fingers faster, harder. The heel of his hand grinds against your clit with each twitch of his wrist. You get tighter and tighter, voice pitching up and up, until your entire body goes taut, walls clamping down almost painfully.

He strokes you through it, brutal and relentless until you’re screaming at him to stop. That it’s too much. He releases your wrists to wrap his hand around your throat, obsessed with how delicate it feels in his palm. Just the slightest squeeze of his fingers and your eyes roll back. The second orgasm gushes from your abused cunt, all over his wrist and your thighs, dripping puddles onto the carpet.

He loosens his hold slowly, work you over through it, feeling you squeeze and pulse with aftershocks.

When he glances at your pretty, flushed, and tear-stained face, your eyes are shut. Out cold.

He chuckles and gently lays you out closer to the fire, grabs a pillow from a nearby chair to set under your head. Lingers for a moment, rubbing over your back, massaging gently at your shoulders. Your wrists are already bruising.

Then a muffled noise calls his attention.

Brandon.

“Now the second half of the deal.”

First | Previous | TBC

Masterlist

[cordeliawhohung]

pornstar!gaz x fem!reader

garrick's girl

cw: alcohol consumption, overly emotional smut, 99.9% smut, 0.1% plot, gentle possessiveness, actual morons in love

It’s a miracle your dress is still on by the time you’re in Kyle’s bed. 

Comforter expertly smoothed over a large mattress, dipping underneath your combined weight, you’re interested to see how strewn about it’ll be by the time he’s done with you. Ravenous eyes peer at you through heavy lids, the complete opposite to the patience of his hands as he gently strokes the exposed skin of your thighs. Fat kisses press to the side of your calf as he lifts your leg, trailing down to your ankle until he reaches the strap of your shoes. Your foot falls free as he undoes the buckle, tossing the heel behind him where it clatters on the hardwood floor of his bedroom. 

“How often do you have to think about me to get off when you’re filming with other actors?” he asks nonchalantly. 

White hot embarrassment prickles underneath the skin of your cheeks and neck. Superheats you so furiously you’re certain Kyle can feel the warmth radiating off of you by touch alone. He’s quick. No beating around the bush, even though the patience of his hands would have you believe otherwise. Still, he moves with delicate intentions as he awaits your answer, removing your other shoe without taking his eyes off of you. 

“No one does it like you do,” you answer, voice trembling with want. 

He smirks, hands gliding toward the inside of your thighs before pushing them apart. Clothes still shroud both of your bodies, yet you feel the most exposed you’ve ever felt in your entire life. 

“No need for flattery, doll. There’s no cameras. No one on the viewfinder. Nothin’ but us. Tell me. I want the truth,” he urges, voice sweet as syrup.

You swallow. “It’s… not just on set.” His hands continue up along your thighs, thumbs brushing against the thin — nearly sheer — fabric of your panties. Your body lurches, demanding more, but you hold yourself back. “I think of you more than I should, I…”

“Do you think of me while you touch yourself?” he prods. 

It’s a question he already knows the answer to. One he can read in the DNA of your cells and the widening of your eyes. Shock echoes throughout your body at his insinuation, but you shouldn’t be surprised at how well he can read you. Kyle has been able to see right through you this whole time — some transparent being; skin made of cellophane. 

“Yes,” you breathe, hips writhing underneath his touch. A pathetic worm, yearning for more, longing for what he’s withholding from you. 

“Why? Is it because of how good I fuck you?” he asks. With each word he speaks, he’s sinking closer and closer to you, hands on either side of your head as his face dips into the crook of your neck — close enough that you can feel his breath on the shell of your ear. “Or is it because of something else? Something more?”

His lips part and you can feel the way the spit breaks in his mouth — already salivating at just the sight of you. 

“Were you also thinking of me when you said I love you on set today?” 

Palpable trepidation ripples through your skin; unforgiving and all consuming. Shaky hands brush along his back, following the defined ridge of his spine until you’re cupping either side of his face. You nudge him back, encouraging him to look at you. Throat tight, heart thumping — you pray you won’t regret this. 

“You’re the only person who makes me feel like this,” you say in a whisper, the pad of your thumb caressing the small scar on his cheek. “Kyle I… I don’t just follow anyone home. I’m not here just for you to fuck me. I’m here because I love you. And I want you to love me, too.” 

There is no breaking point. No instance in which the water boils over, flooding the stove with starch and foam. There is only warm fire. Campfire flames dancing in a pit; enticing and loving. A little spark. A sharp crack. Wood charring from the heat so that you can melt, sticky and sweet into the bed. 

His only response to you is his lips on yours, soft and savory as he licks up the faint alcohol on your tongue. There is no rush. No director calling out position changes, no bright lights, no camera in your face; just you and Kyle. Stone crumbles, cracks and breaks free — walls tumble until you’re open, bare and free. There is nothing — no apprehension or worry — there is only love. 

Dulcet kisses render your lips raw and fuzzy before traveling along your jaw, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Kyle tugs at the top of your dress, and you aid him in wiggling the straps down your shoulders where he pulls until your tits flow free from the fabric. He continues, embracing the line between your breasts, gracing your sternum with adoration, all while murmuring I love you, I love you between each one. 

His mantra continues, a repetitive notion as if he fears you might one day forget it if it’s not engraved in your skin. He says it into your chest, into your stomach, your pelvis; he continues his chant until he’s pushing up the skirt of your dress and placing kisses on your clothed pussy. Each pitched groan he pulls out of you is music — a symphonic melody he wants your mouth to emulate forever more.

“My girl,” he mumbles, fingers snaking underneath the band of your panties before dragging them down your legs. “Told you I’d get you alone. Wanna love you properly… wanna…” 

He cuts himself off, mouth swallowing the view of your cunt. Hips bucking up, Kyle’s name falls from your lips like a prayer as his tongue slides along your clit. It’s torturous, and already has your nerves sparking like live, frayed wires. It’s a familiar feeling — a nirvana he’s able to pull out of you on set — but there’s something different about it. The film is removed. The edges are sharper. There’s no fear or worry to muddle the bliss that’s mixing with your very blood. 

When he pulls away, he doesn’t leave you unstimulated for long before his fingers are prodding and pushing at your cunt. Your head lifts with a gasp, hands reaching for your chest as you look between your legs. Long, adept fingers glide in and out of you, aided both by your arousal and Kyle’s spit. His lips part as he stares down at his work, enchanted by the way you swallow him whole. 

It’s then that he realizes he can finally stop and smell the roses. Can take his time with you without the pressure to rush. And he is languid with it. Stuck in a dumbfounded stupor as he watches his fingers pump in and out of you over, and over, and over, and over —

“Kyle…”

Gentle hands slicing through the air, you reach for him until you’ve got a hold of his shirt. Dressy, perfect for the over-important party the two of you attended earlier. One by one, you undo the buttons separating his skin from yours before yanking him forward. He tries to keep his fingers inside of you, tries to unravel you, but you’re stripping him bare. Cloth undone, crumpled on the foot of the bed — he looks heavenly in the dim light of his bedroom. Silky smooth skin, dark loving eyes; you want to be unbound. Become nothing but stray chords and muscle, entangle yourself with whatever mess Kyle is about to render himself into. 

“I need you,” you whisper. You say it like a secret. Something nobody knows but you; as if the whole world isn’t afraid to burn to a crisp over your passion. 

He descends. Bare skin warm against yours, chest pressed against your breasts, lips on your neck, hands slowly guiding himself into you. He rests there for a moment, cock barely pressing against you, lined up perfectly yet refusing to further pursue you. Though Kyle enjoys teasing you — revels in the large pout and needy whines — everything he does is deliberate. It’s not to prod and upset you, not to rile you up; it’s a preparation. An agreement. Once he starts, he won’t stop until neither of you are sure where your bodies begin and end. 

There’s a gentle brush against your cheek. Fingers curling into the back of your head. A searing kiss that chars your lips and leaves them still begging for the heat. To seal the pact, he fills your cunt with one celeritous thrust of his hips, and he swallows the guttural moan he rips from your body. Tender. Consuming. He continues, shockwaves rippling throughout your body, moaning back into your mouth as the head of his cock splits you apart. 

You have fucked Kyle many times before, but it’s never been like this. Not with his body engulfing the expanse of your skin or his fingers interlocked with yours. You’ve never fucked like you were lovers. There’s never been such unrestrained ardor; something past simple concupiscence. The affection rotting your DNA is enough to destroy you, and you’d gladly crumble in his hands — as long as it meant Kyle gets to hold you. 

Maybe it’s the alcohol, but you sound more unrestrained than when you are on set. Like you’re not afraid to hide anything in fear that it’ll be burnt into film for the rest of your existence. Kyle leans back, lips leaving your skin for the first time in what feels like hours. A blazing incalescence sparks in his eyes as they flit across your face. He catches on to every expression that morphs in your features, how he can make your brows knit together with a particularly deep thrust, or how your lips part when he thumbs over your clit. Such a beautiful creature, laid out bare for him to witness in all her glory. 

“So fucking beautiful,” he whispers, whiskey breath panting across your face. “Look at you, my pretty girl. My girl. Could never tire of lookin’ at you.” 

Praise falls from his lips like water from a fountain, and he feels the way you clamp around him. His pretty girl, always eager for praise. His thumb grinds against your clit, adding pressure ever so slowly to the point you’re nearly seeing stars. Your hands reach out for him, grabbing for any sort of purchase you can get to keep yourself steady as your body rocks against the mattress. Nails digging into his skin, he knows you’re close. 

“Could do this every night. Have you in my bed. In my arms. I just wanna take care of you, doll.” He’s practically dancing on the edge. So close to his own euphoric release, yet stuttering to hold himself back. Not until you, he thinks. Not until you. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Give you that true love you deserve.” 

Your hips wiggle, fighting against his thumb as it unravels those sweet nerves underneath your skin. Eyelids fluttering, you try to keep your eyes on him; a fruitless effort. Your head presses back into the pillows — of which smell just like the same, spicy cologne Kyle always uses — as every muscle in your body tenses to the point of fracturing. 

“I need that. Need you,” you stutter through chattering teeth. “I love you. Fuck, I love you. P-Please, Kyle…”

“I know,” he shushes. His movements are steadfast — even and firm as he feels your muscles turn to mush under his very fingertips. You whine so sweetly, delicious honey and milk against his mouth as you fall apart at the seams. “There we go, there she is. Such a good girl, coming on my cock like that. F-Fuck. Gonna milk this cock next, yeah? Won’t ya, doll? My beautiful girl…”

When he finally lets go, he feels his entire body seize. Legs wrapping around his hips, you pull him closer to you as he twitches inside of you, dumping every last bit of spend he has to give you while his face presses against the side of your neck. A rhapsodic silence sits somewhere between heavy panting and faint giggles. There is no one to shout about the scene ending. No bored huffs as the set is torn down around you. There is only Kyle’s heat on top of your body, the faint glow of his living room lamp pouring through his bedroom door, and a gentle kiss on your jaw. 

When his arms and legs start to give out underneath him, Kyle rolls to the side, body colliding with the soft cot as he drags you along with him. Glorious giggles leave your lips as you nuzzle your nose into the center of his chest. It’s nice to just lay. To be embraced without prying, impatient eyes. To be loved. All along, you have been adored with such fervor; you were just never able to feel it through the barrier forced around your body because of work. 

“You smell good,” you mumble, once you’ve finally caught your breath. 

“Oh?” he prompts. 

“Mhm. Could eat you up.” 

“Feisty,” Kyle quips. 

A hum rumbles deep in his chest as he kisses the top of your head, arms snaking impossibly tight around you as he draws you close. You dissolve into him, limbs entangled, knotting until they’ll never come undone again. The pounding drum of his heart slowly relaxes into a steady rhythm, and you find yourself nearly falling asleep as he traces the dips of your hip. 

“So,” Kyle speaks up. There’s something off about his tone — like he’s grinning too hard to say his words properly. “How did Simon react when you said my name instead of his?” 

You groan, embarrassment flooding your face as you try to hide away. His laughter at you feels playfully mocking as he pulls you closer and wiggles around, as if he can shake the answer out of you. 

“I don’t even want to think about it,” you whine. 

“Come on, I wanna know,” he eggs. 

You sigh with a heavy pout forming on your lips. “He… grinned. Like the fucking bastard he is. Like he knew all along. He didn’t say anything on set, but when we were done he… mentioned that I should try to find you at the party tonight. He actually pointed you out to me while you were moping in the corner.” 

Despite your dig at him, he laughs. Sweet and deep. Comforting. Like he’s finally found home. 

“Well, at least he knows whose girl you are.” 

He feels your smile curve against his chest. “Garrick’s girl.” 

That night, after Kyle washes your body and holds you underneath warm, running water, you sleep in his bed. You sleep in his bed, in his clothes, in his arms. It comes as easy as breathing. As natural as dreaming. And as you fall asleep, you hum, content in knowing that this is how it should have been all along.

[knavesflames]

Anon: [Virgin reader who has Arle convinced she’s not a virgin and Arle realizes this mid-foreplay]

Hello 😧 I’m back with this. This time I believe I’ve read it correctly!! I made this one a bit longer for the inconvenience HAHAHA, either way, I hope you enjoy it now if you see this anon.

Word count: 1428

Contents: fingering, arlecchino being a lil tipsy, soft

Nsft utc!

You seem to realise about a year into your relationship that maybe you should have given up the lie. You’re not experienced, and if anything, you’re the complete opposite. You’ve barely kissed anyone. Arlecchino counts, obviously, but you’ve only kissed her and you’ve been lucky enough to worm your way out of sex and conversations about it every time.

Arlecchino is a busy woman, is she not? She is often away in Fontaine, or Sumeru, or Archons knows where else, it’s not exactly like she has time. Does it stop the murmured apologies spilling from her lips? No. Does it bother you? Also no. If anything, you’re worried for the day she figures it out. You shouldn’t have lied, you know this, but when the chance of being Arlecchino’s arose, you didn’t want her to come up with any reason to backtrack. So, you lied. Arlecchino is.. incredibly experienced, to say the least. You’ve heard the way the girls talk about The Knave in the town. How, way before you, she would go through three girls a night, at the same time, and none of them could think straight for the next week. You have no doubts she’d be gentle with you, and yet..

You don’t want to disappoint her. It isn’t that you don’t want to have sex, more that you’re worried you won’t be enough for her, you won’t be able to make her feel good (and that you’re nervous about your own pleasure).

So, what a shame (and a blessing) when she comes home tipsy after a Fatui gathering. You want to have sex with her so bad, so bad, in fact, you can feel it, and you wonder if this is the perfect time. She’s tipsy, she may not remember, and then you’re not really lying, are you?

It doesn’t seem to work out that way for you, though. Her kisses are as soft as always, but hungrier as she leads you towards the bedroom. Her hand is firm around your waist as she lowers you onto the bed, your satin nightdress billowing around you. You hear a small grunt as she flops down next to you before her lips meet yours again. Gracious when she’s tipsy, she is not. It’s almost comical, and you’d laugh if your head wasn’t running wild. Your hands move to remove her shirt, which is easy enough when she moves with you to help it along.

Mumbles of how good you smell and how tipsy she is leaves her lips and you manage to snicker in all your nervousness. The sound is quickly cut short by a sharp intake of breath when her fingers begin dancing up your thigh, your heart pounding more than it would, had you been experienced like you claim you are. Nevertheless, your own hands work their way under the waistband of her underwear, clumsily finding their way to where you’ve imagined touching her. You become lost in your thoughts, completely affected by the way you have to pretend you know what you’re doing, to the point you don’t even realise when she’s whispering your name softly.

Arlecchino’s eyebrows furrow and she uncharacteristically giggles as you try to find your way between her folds. It’s so clumsy, it’s almost like you haven’t done this before, and you’re the sober one. She studies you a little more, the way your lip is caught between your teeth, your breath a mix of nervousness and desire, and then it clicks. Her fingers wrap around your wrist, gently dragging your hand out of her underwear before her head rests on your shoulder.

“You haven’t done this before,” she murmurs as her lips graze against your neck. “Why did you lie?”

“I have!” You’re so quick to protest against her words, but to her, it’s just proving her point. With a soft sigh, she moves you on top of her so you can’t look away. You can tell in Arlecchino’s eyes she’s sobered up, at least a little.

“I mean this with a lot of affection, dear, but you can’t find the clitoris, and I am the drunk one.”

With a groan, you hide your face between her breasts in an attempt to conceal the heat on your cheeks. Her charred fingers move to your hair, carding through the strands as she questions you, her usually stern voice just a little softer.

“Do you want to, or are you agreeing because of me? Lie and I won’t be pleased.”

“I want to, I’m nervous.”

A low rumble leaves her throat, almost her usual laugh, and somehow more tipsy than the giggle she let out earlier. She flips the position, satisfied when she towers over you. “Then let me take care of you,” she whispers huskily against the shell of your ear. “I’ll show you how it works.”

Her eyebrow quirks, her red crosses piercing into your own irises as she waits for an answer. You pay attention the way your heart speeds up in pure excitement, and your body betrays any words that could leave your lips when you nod. You hear a hum leave Arlecchino’s mouth before her hands travel again, moving inside of the nightdress you so often wear. With your fingers twitching, you move under her waistband again, only for your hand to be gently pushed out.

“You tonight. Relax, I’ll make it nice.”

Your back instinctively arches when the pad of her thumb presses against your clit, your eyes closing as a shaky breath leaves your mouth. Her thumb pulls back quickly after, inspecting the newly achieved glisten on her skin. “So wet already,” she muses, locking her eyes on you as her thumb disappears beyond her lips. “You taste good, too.”

You make a noise that could only be described as a small whine in response. A whine of what, embarrassment? Arousal? You don’t know. Arlecchino does. Her thumb leaves her mouth with a pop before it meets the nerve bundle again, rubbing small, gentle circles to relax you. And relax you, it does, small noises of appreciation escaping you every so often.

“Ready?” She smirks against your cheek when you nod, making sure your lips are right next to her ear when she slides her finger inside of you, a shudder going down her spine at the delicious noise you made. Waiting until you’re comfortable, the finger stays unmoving until your hips buck up, initiating movement. It’s a slow rhythm, every pump and curl drawing out mewls and whines as your hands move to clutch at any part of her you can. One ends up around her shoulders, the other intertwined with her free hand.

“It’s okay,” she mumbles through her own heavy breath, clearly affected by your sounds and the movements of your hips against her middle finger. “Breathe, keep moving, keep making those pretty little sounds for me.”

Arlecchino’s words are punctuated by a particularly good curl and a small massage to the spongy spot inside of you, her own groan sounding in your ear when you flutter around her finger. “You’re so pretty. So pretty, and all mine, and I get to take you. Archons—“

The words are cut off by another groan, one that was clearly repressed for a few seconds. She isn’t even being touched, and somehow she’s receiving pleasure just from your own reactions. Either she’s desperate, or you just affect her that much. Her digits continue the movement, taking care to not scratch you with the nails she prides herself on, pressing and curling and pumping slowly until your whines are desperate and your walls are clenching against her.

“I know, baby, I know. Let it happen, hm? Remember to breathe. Good girl, you’re so good for me, aren’t you?” She breathes, smirking at your response (which is in fact, just another whimper). You feel it building and building until you feel like your skin is on fire and you’re about to explode, and then your back arches, your eyes shooting open as your hand tightens around hers. Your hips jerk up erratically, and she presses kisses to your forehead when you ride the high she’s so happy to have given you.

When you finally come down, able to make sense of the world around you, she chuckles, a low, velvety chuckle, making use of your nails to create goosebumps on your skin as she lazily drags them over your arm. “I was nice tonight, but if you ever lie to me about something as important as this again, I will not be as kind. Understand?”

[chrisevansonly]

𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲’𝐬 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐬 | 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜

ʚ charles leclerc x female reader

ʚ nothing is more special than watching your baby boy take his first steps…and of course watching your husband get emotional that his little one is growing up…

ʚ no warnings, very soft and fluffy

ʚ i really wanted to write a dad!charles so here we are even if i still feel iffy about my writing lol, i hope you guys enjoy it! requests are still open for little blurb ideas, fics, smau’s etc<3

For parents there was never a greater joy than watching their child grow, learn and get more and more curious as they became older. For little Théo Leclerc who had just turned 9 months, he was proficient at crawling and getting into anything and everything, you blamed his father’s drive and determination on that. He was as curious as babies come, intrigued in anything his mother and father were doing, he loved playing with coloured blocks, reading bedtime stories with his parents at night, he was the definition of a blessing to both you and Charles.

“good morning chérie, smells delicious down here”

You smiled turning to press a gentle kiss to Charles’s cheek, a soft smile on your face

“morning my love, thought i’d make some pancakes, Théo has been loving them”

“his mother is an amazing cook can you blame him? where is he anyway, it’s too quiet…”

You laughed pointing over to the little area you had set up on your living room, toys and books spilled across the hardwood floor

“he has been quite busy this morning, haven’t you petit prince?”

Cooing slightly at the mini Charles in the corner he giggled looking at you, upon noticing his father he began to wiggle on the floor, slowly making his way over on his hands and knees

“es-tu impatient de me voir bébé!?”

Théo squealed happily, finally making it to Charles who was quick to pick up the happy baby, who’s hands rested on his father’s face

“Look at that happy face! He’s so cute it makes me want to cry…are you so happy to see papa?”

You laughed seeing the smile on his face as he wiggled around in Charles’s arms, coming over to press kisses across his face only intensifying it

“You are going to squirm right onto the floor if you keep doing that”

Théo only giggled, his hands grabbing at the now cooking pancakes that rested on his plate

“Papa will put you in your chair and you can have some breakfast okay my love?”

“Can’t have you hungry can we little worm”

Snorting out a laugh you turned to him

“Little worm?”

“Have you seen him when he does that wiggle? You should hold him when he does it, he’s like a worm”

Shaking your head you couldn’t help but realize that was probably a good nickname for your son, when he got excited there was no stopping that wiggle.

-

Théo was quick to finish his breakfast, never leaving anything behind on his plate, so while you cleaned up, you set him down gently on the floor, though he never really stayed in one place, so as your back was turned he had made it over to his dad who was sitting in the living room, cleaning up the mess baby tornado had left behind. Upon reaching the couch, Théo had grabbed onto the couch to stand up, gripping onto the fabric he got to his feet, letting out a squeal, instantly catching the attention of Charles.

“What are you up too bébé, sois prudent…”

On instinct he moved a bit closer before pausing when Théo began to take steps towards him

“Chérie, regarde ça! Théo marche!”

Quickly turning to look towards the living room you grabbed your phone, immediately walking over to film your baby boy, tears in your eyes as you smiled

“Bravo petit prince! Tu vas si bien!”

Théo giggled walking a few more steps before collapsing into his fathers chest

“He-He walked! Char…he-I can’t believe he walked!”

Joining your boys on the floor you couldn’t help but notice the little tears that rested on your husbands cheeks as well, taking your thumb and gently wiping them off his skin

“I can’t believe it…he-he walked right to me, please tell me you got that”

Nodding you showed him the video once again on your phone, getting to experience the moment all over again, Charles hugging Théo closer

“You’re growing up too fast…can’t believe you’re walking”

“Aw baby, he’s still little…don’t worry”

You kissed his cheek gently, a hand rubbing Théo’s back softly

“Tu seras toujours le petit prince de papa, n'est-ce pas?”

He giggled wiggling around a little bit for Charles to put him back down, watching as he began to crawl around once again

“I’m going to miss him as a baby…”

“I know you will, but we still have some time…besides, who said we have to stop at one?”

Hearing your words Charles looked at you, a slight twinkle in his eyes

“Je suppose que nous avons du travail à faire…”

You smiled shaking your head before pressing a firm kiss to his lips, only pulling away when Théo began to walk once again, only this time heading away from you both

“Well here we go…”

Laughter filled the room as you and Charles took after your now very quick baby boy, what you thought was fast at a crawl, seemed to be lightning speed now that he was on his feet.

You wouldn’t change anything for the world, you’re family was perfect, and you couldn’t be happier…even if your little one was growing up too fast…

[obsessedwithceleste]

Theodore Nott Headcanons

Dedicated to this lil request here 🫶🏽

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

It’s no secret that Theodore Nott had a rough childhood

Between witnessing his mother’s death at a young age and having a particularly ruthless father, Theo learned to be quietly reserved early on

1000% Theo is an introvert

Despite being seemingly closed off, he’s extremely observant and good at reading others and picking up on things quickly

While he may not be the best at deciphering his own emotions, he’s able to sort through others’ easily

This makes it easy for him to be rather manipulative because he knows what makes other’s tick and how to go straight for the jugular

He may be distant and off putting in the beginning, but once you get close, he’s a clingy bastard because he doesn’t let many people get close, so once you make it there he’ll basically hold you captive forever

He’s also stupid smart

(Canonically he’s able to re-create an illegal time turner after they were all destroyed in the department of mysteries so//)

And this makes him a bit of an arrogant asshole

Looks down on people he thinks aren’t as smart as him

He definitely thinks that he knows best and can have a “my way or the highway” type mindset

Probably has some type of gifted kid™️ trauma and a crippling fear of failure

Anyway, he’s super intelligent and witty and has the potential to do really well in classes

But he has a nasty habit off skiving off with Mattheo Riddle

Who happens to be his best friend along with Lorenzo Berkshire

A lot of people think Theo is the “mother” of the group, or at least the one with the most impulse control

They’re wrong

Theo is the one that Mattheo goes to with his dumbass ideas and Theo’s response is generally something along the lines of-

“Absolutely not you tosser. If we’re going to do it, we’re going to do it right”

Queue Mattheo’s initial plan- only methodically planned out to cause maximal amounts of emotional trauma for the Hogwarts population

Theo and Mattheo are also a chaotic duo on the quidditch pitch

Theo is a chaser

Making the quidditch team in his third year is one of the only times his father showed a hint of satisfaction with the boy

Being on the Slytherin quidditch team, he’s often labeled a preppy jock

And Mattheo does help him break out of his shell more

But he’s a nerdy lil book worm at heart and likes to be holed up in the library most days

Theo also has quite the reputation of being a ladies man with rumors about his escapades swarming the student body

But really they’re just that- rumors

Lorenzo is more of the openly flirtatious pretty boy, and Mattheo certainly knows how to make his way around which is perhaps why people think Theo would be the same way

But he isn’t one to really form physical attachments- emotional or not

He prefers to fly under the radar

He may have had a fling or two, but isn’t one to kiss and tell

He has a hard time entering a real relationship

Mostly because when he first realizes he’s caught feelings, he’s convinced he’s actually just ill and stays in bed pretending to be sick

But once he comes to terms with things, he’s one determined wizard

Makes sure everyone knows that you’re off limits (possibly before you know yourself)

Definitely goes to Enzo for advice on how to woo you

With varying degrees of success

King of subtle PDA (just enough to mark his territory)

Confident and secure in his relationship, but also still jealous as hell

Will hex the living shit out of someone for breathing at you the wrong way

Finds it amusing when you get jealous though

But will shut it the fuck down as soon as he picks up on you being actually upset (probably embarrassing whoever it is in the process)

Not always the best at communicating his feeling cause he’s emotionally constipated af

But tries because he knows he doesn’t want a relationship like his parent’s

Okayyy I think that’s all for now, but I have a feeling these will grow and evolve with time sooo- ongoing (?) idk

[greenunoreversecard]

HEYYEYHEY CAN I REQUEST LLOYD (ninjago) HEADCANONS PLEASEEEE (ty :3)

A/N: Ofc!I'll do general character ones, as well as x reader ones :) hope ye likey likey:pp

Lloyd, The Greenest and Geekest mf.

General character headcanons:

Half Japanese half Chinese

His hair is box blonde dye and you cannot change my mind.

Left handed

Severely dyslexic and hands off all scroll reading and just reading oriented tasks to kai.

Def gen z vibes. Like, the others give off more inbetween z and millenial, so they dont always get his humor. And sometimes he uses that to his advantage and "Speaks in code" (uses as much slang as possible)

Has LED lights in his room set to forest green.

Has given himself a smiley face tattoo.

Cried over a dead goose once.

OK, just to preface i see cole as a stoner of Sorts and uses the excuse "it gets me closer to my element"

With that in mind cole let lloyd try it and now sometimes when he is told to unwind, of feels like he needs to take a chill pill he and Cole spark up

in the beginning of his leader ship role, he used to Say;"kick ass and take names" and if things went wrong he had the fuck it we ball mindset, but got better with time. There are still times they wing it, though.

if he isnt in his gi he almost exclusively wears his pajamas (aka a Hoodie, tshirt and sweats)

Vv tired, and now has a raging addiction to energy drinks due to his lack of Sleep.

He used to eat worms as a kid bc he Thought he it was evil.

Has a eyebrow piercing, and wants a tongue piercing.

Wears "reading" glasses, that he should technically wear all the time because he can't see up close and has a astigmatism,, but he says yolo. Zane then make him contacts after he almost ran into a moving blade and got his head severed.

Adhd and OCD, as well as the normal line up (anxiety, depression, cptsd)

Lloyd in a relationship:

Hes very distant in the beginning, it'll take time to warm up to you.

He tends to be orage cat vibes.

On the cat trend, he gets close for a bit Before becoming distant. Going through waves of affection, kinda.

He hasn't had like, any good relationships in his life so he tries to "protect" himself when he feels he gets to close to you, and so he pulls away.

He does the fuckboy face when your sad bc it makes you laugh, as well as That weird dice roll

He actually does the face/dice roll combo whenever he Sees you as he walks over, it's an inside joke now

primary giving love language: acts of service and quality time

Primary receiving love language: gifts and words of affirmation. But physical touch is also high up there.

Also, not expensive gifts. He hates those. Give him a stick you saw on a walk that made you think of him. He'll cherish it forever. And maybe cry.

He will cry.

will make noises at you and expects a noise in response or he'll be sad.

Also randomly bites you. He's a nommer

also sends you memes throughout the day.

As well as random pictures with the caption;"BABY LOK THIS IS S. US IF WE WHERE *insert whatever item here*

Called you babe, baby, love, shitface, asshole.

Expect kind and loving gentle bullying.

Doesnt know how to express his emotions to just expect him to come up to you, lightly shake your shoulders and aggressively say;"I love you bitch.i ain't Evea gon stop lovin you. Bitchhhhhhh" (vine reference)

Sends you .5 of everyone, himself included. He's addicted to Taking them. You will not get out of it.

Also sometimes just walks around in nyas stilettos for fun.

You two have fashion shows.

You also take over the Living room sometimes and build giant ass forts to watch shitty reality tv in and make fun oF The people

Overall, once he realizes you won't leave he's the most funniest loving chaotic guy.

But expect it to take a hot minute for him to realsie this

give him time,, but also have some deep talks..

Let him vent

and for the love of God don't hurt the baby's heart.

Expect inside jokes

[starlostt5]

Wrong answer

pairing: spencer reid x bau!reader

summary: Spencer gives you a wrong answer to a totally reasonable question

warings: none?

a/n: don't take this too seriously I just think it's funny

masterlist

_________________________________________

Spencer fucked up, he doesn't know exactly how but he knows he did. How?

Well after your conversation last night you slept on the couch, protesting. What? He didn't know.

This morning, you went to work without him and purposely made him coffee without sugar.

Spencer tried to talk to you but your replies were very short and cold, it didn't take a profiler to know that you were angry.

"What did you do?" JJ asked him the moment he stepped into the office.

You two were the favourite bau couple, and everyone loved you. It was easy for you two to fall in love, and of course, you didn't let that impact your work. When your relationship was still new to the members of the team you would get teased a lot but now you were just boring happy couple.

"I don't know." Spencer says honestly, he's stumped his memory does not help here, he genuinely doesn't know what's wrong.

"Sure, then why did your girlfriend come to work looking like that." JJ points at your table where you sit looking absolutely pissed. As if you feel eyes on you, you turn around and give Spencer a side eye.

"Whatever it is, fix it." Spencer laughs awkwardly and starts walking towards you that's when Emily calls everyone up for a meeting.

Before Spencer can catch up you're already bolting to the briefing room.

And then you sit on the other end of the table.

"Uh? Should I start?" Penelopie looks at you and then at Spencer.

"Actually, Garcia, let's see if everyone on the team is okay to continue. Spencer, Y/N?"

"Yes it's fine." Spencer says but at the same time you say

"Nope."

"Please share with the group." Rossi says.

"Get this Spencer said be doesn't love me." you say it dramatically with a sad sigh.

"What? I never said that I-." Spencer is shocked he never said that.

flashback

You and Spencer are having a lazy night his head is in your lap, he's reading something and you're watching TV.

"Spence." you say softly playing with his hair.

"Hm" his reply noncommittal.

"I have a question for you." That gets his attention so he closes his book and looks at you.

"Anything baby."

"Would you still love me if I was a worm?"

"No sweetheart, then you'd just be a worm. They have really small brain, barely 300 neurons and they don't have thoughts or feelings so therefore you wouldn't be you if you were a worm."

You gasp offended that your boyfriend would say such a thing.

"No but I would be me but in worm form."

"That's not possible, besides it would never work physically." Spencer groans when you stand up and push him off the couch.

"Ouch?"

end of flashback

"He said he wouldn't love me if I was worm."

Gasps are heard around the table and Spencer thinks this is an inside joke.

"Really, Spencer?" JJ asks with crossed arms.

"But that's a worm-" before Spencer could say anything else JJ gives him a light slap at the back of his head.

"Okay, okay. I would love you if you were a worm or anything and everything else. And if it wasn't obvious I do love you now." Spencer says and you melt right then and there.

"Awh, I love you too but you just admitted you'd be in love with a worm so I should consider my standards." that gets a laugh out from everyone.

"But- I just what?"

"Yes you're the love of my life, now we need to catch some bad guys."

You say as you clap him on a shoulder and grab his hand as you're sitting down next to him.

You also give him a quick kiss after apologising in advance for the PDA.

"So...."

[THE END]

likes comments and reblogs are appreciated <3

[meanbossart]

What does DU drow think of Karlach? Like does he think she's annoying? An ally? A friend? I'm genuinely curious 🙏

He... Doesn't get Karlach LOL

He doesn't get wy she's so upbeat and yet so resigned to her fate. He doesn't get how she's so forgiving of Wyll and so set on doing Good when life should have taught her that that is not always feasible. He doesn't understand why she talks to him like a friend when, as far as he's concerned, they have little in common besides a worm and thigh-width.

He goes back and forth between reading her as naive, to aloof, to insightful, to weak, to strong, and so on and so on. He just can't pin her. They pretty much kept at arms-length throughout the campaign save towards the end when she set out to kill Gortash - REVENGE is a concept he understands.

Despite their somewhat stilted relationship he does grow to like her, somewhat. They might have not been friends but he thought Karlach as being too determined to live to die. He was set on letting her enjoy Gortash's death and then fix her engine somehow to the end, which was a type of conflict of it's own between them. He respected her wishes to just perish, but was left with bitter feeling that flips from "She didn't try hard enough" to "I failed to fix her", which puts him face to face with the very scary fact that he can't always bend the world to his will, as he often likes to believe lol.

[sitp-recs]

Hi! :)

Could you please do a funny/witty/bantery rec list?

Looking more so for writing tone, but dialogue would ofc also be okay!

Thank you so much x

Hi there! I have a reclist for witty!Draco, but here are some witty fics I really love. They are such fun reads I remember exactly which scenes made me laugh out loud. In terms of writing tone, 4 authors whose sense of humor always hit the mark for me are astolat, shiftylinguini, blamebrampton and iota. Enjoy!

Tense by Faith Wood (E, 3k)

Harry and Draco have sex. Very, very slowly. Seriously, this is, like, 3K of penetration.

Never Gonna Give You Up by InnerLilith (E, 5k)

Five times Harry rickrolls Draco and one time Draco gets him back.

Game On by @pennygalleon (T, 5k)

Draco blows Harry a kiss and the press goes nuts. Harry suggests they use this to their advantage.

Matched Set by astolat (E, 6k)

“No one asked you to look, did they?” Draco said, eyes glittering and intent on Harry’s face—like he’d just wiped off the years and turned back in time to when their greatest ambition in life had been to knock the other off his broom in front of the school and grab the Snitch first, before they’d both gone to war and come back with scars.

Up The by @shiftylinguini (E, 7k)

“I feel I need to point out,” Draco kissed gently over Harry’s Adam’s apple, “that this is the most Gryffindor approach to conception that could possibly exist.”

draco malfoy's substitute murder service by @oknowkiss (E, 10k)

When Harry joins the Curse Breakers shortly after his twenty-fifth birthday, he’s surprised to find himself assigned to the Department of Creatures, Cryptids, and Associated Calamities.

The Loathly Worm by Selden (E, 12k)

When Draco Malfoy is forced to go undercover among the remaining Death Eaters in the aftermath of the war, the last person he expects to find there is Harry Potter.

Party of Two by fireflavored (E, 13k)

Drinking, sex, and a total misreading of the concept of fuck buddies.

keep it down, orphaned (E, 13k)

Malfoy’s an inconsiderately loud roommate and Harry’s over it.

An Act of Kindness for One Harry Potter by a Sympathetic Draco Malfoy by 0idontknow0 (E, 15k)

As Draco leaned on the wall to wait for them to get dressed, he could not help feeling like he had done a very kind thing by disrupting them. Someone should give Potter a better rogering than that sorry sod had. The man had saved the bloody world—okay, mostly Europe—the least someone could do was give him a proper shag.

Stupid Love by @the-sinking-ship (E, 17k)

Harry Potter, how does Draco Malfoy hate thee? Let me count the ways.

Heartlines by @sorrybutblog (T, 22k)

Just as Draco Malfoy's life seems to be getting back on track, the magic at Malfoy Manor is spinning out of control. Auror partners Harry Potter and Angelina Johnson are assigned to the case and quickly find that nothing about the situation is obvious. The flare ups are unpredictable at best, downright dangerous at worst, and why has a Hogwarts first year gone missing at the same time?

Little Red Courgette by blamebrampton (T, 31k)

When this season's purple courgettes are woefully thin, Draco Malfoy thinks it amounts to small beans. Next thing he knows, the Department of Standards is over-run with leeks, Brussels sprouts all sorts of legislative difficulties, and somebody appears to have put a roquette under Harry Potter. Can Draco seize a marrow victory? Or will his plans for peas be squashed?

Clouds That Veil the Midnight Moon by @drarrytrash (E, 36k)

According to Harry’s personal narrative regarding the incident, he’d hooked up with Draco Malfoy for purely self-destructive reasons, or out of convenience, or by some unlucky accident. Looking at him, sprawled in the moonlight, Harry is devastated to recall that he’d hooked up with Draco Malfoy because he’s hot.

Bite Me, Hate Memes by pir8fancier (E, 44k)

Draco Malfoy is incensed to realize that someone is trying to usurp his position as the premier Harry Potter hater.

Rookie Moves by peu_a_peu (E, 75k)

Aurors Potter and Malfoy crack the case.

The Liars Department by @dorthyanndrarry (T, 103k)

This is a story about Harry meeting up with Draco Malfoy four years after the war. And a story about Harry, well, not hating his job per say, but it's not like he has much to compare it to and it seemed fine. His whole life seemed fine. Then Malfoy came along with and his flashy suits and fast car making everything seem dull in comparison, and Harry... Harry couldn't just leave well enough alone.

[unfortunatebrainfarts]

Cussing out anyone and everyone is fun until you get lasso'd out of bed to do it on behalf of your casual space cowboy co-worker who for some reason knows where you live

Boothill x f!reader

A/n: soort of part 2 to my previous work but can be read seperately‼️

"For the last time — let me go before I literally unscrew your dick off."

"Psh, as if ya got the balls for that lil' missy."

You don't even have to look at Boothill to know he was immensely enjoying himself right now — hell you couldn't even if you wanted to since you were currently getting dragged through the ice cold floors of wherever the hell you were, with a fucking lasso firmly binding your legs and arms.

"It's like 5 a.m. in the morning, what the hell could you even want at this god forsaken hour?!" You righteously grumble, but alas, you were met with nothing more than silence probably because you've asked similar questions before. Yes. This has happened before. Many times before.

For Boothill, tracking down enemies and pinning them down was great. Not being able to curse them out and instead calling them a 'cutie' and blessing their soul? Not so great. But that's where you come in! His lovely fellow galaxy ranger who's been with him long enough to know what he wants to say, and is far too weak(compared to this baby shark looking freak of a cyborg) to refute him. Physically that is — you always make sure that you complain his ear off to at least ensure some sort of mental damage.

"Hey! If you're going to take me somewhere could you at least not drag me all the way there? Ugh these floors are so cold I feel like I'm gonna get hypothermia. If I do and I sue you, don't you have to pay me compensation for that? I'm expecting at least a million credits or so cause I don't think Lan provides health insurance for the galaxy rangers—"

Your pitiable monologue was abrubtly cut short by Boothill firmly gripping the rope which binded you and roughly jerking it upwards so that your body would fall limp directly on his shoulder like a giant worm, your head just centimeters away from his.

Of course to which you responded with automatic aggressive squirming and wiggling only making you look more and more like a worm. But honestly who could blame you? I mean, who just DOES THAT and expects the other party to be calmly subdued?!

"Oh sugar honey iced tea, could ya quit strugglin' for just one moment—" A large, metalic hand was promptly placed around your waist and no amount of wiggling could even get it to so much as budge. "Now that y'r off the darn floor ain'it 'bout time ya shut yer trap? Heh... we're almost there."

Now that you were head to head with Boothill, although not in the most favorable position, you could see his face now — his face with probably the most shit eating grin you have ever seen on it. His sharp teeth making themselves apparent, and unwavering eyes focused on just whatever lied ahead.

And then his feet stood still.

"THERE," he shouted unrestraintedly like a madman, while pointing his free hand at... a random lady in purple?

Without warning, Boothill launched himself forward stopping only inches away from the woman who looked just as confused as you.

"Now, go tell 'er that she's a wonderful ray of sunshine that deserves absoloutely nothin' but the best. Oh Acheron, bless your soul ya lovely imposter, be prepared to go on a playdate and have some teatime with me soon! Until then, you should keep yourself safe."

The sheer passion that Boothill had in his tone made it clear that he had a message to get across. Though you don't think the other woman, or supposedly Acheron, understood a word he said. You exasperatedly sigh, you felt just as bad for this lady as you did for you yourself.

"Well?! What'cha waitin' for," the arm around you tightened just enough for a squeak to involuntarily come out of you and you knew you weren't getting out of this.

You mentally apologise for this poor lady before translating his thoughts into words, "Er... what he means to say is uhm, 'you're a disgusting piece of shit who deserves to die seven times over by my hand. Oh Acheron, you absoloute dumbass fucking imposter, be prepared to meet me and face me off in a showdown soon, but you might as well just kill yourself before that."

"...," Acheron's face remained unchanging and blank throughout the whole spiel, Boothill's however, was characteristicly smug and maniacal.

To others, the three of you looked as if you were frozen in time for at least a minute or so, until Acheron simply tilted her head and monotonously responded,

"Sorry, who are you?"

[zadralien]

He wanted Dib to beg for his life.

Dib has become his life.

Ficlet under the cut.

“Fuck, Zim!” Dib reaches up to gingerly press his fingers to his nose and feels the thick blood pooling down past his mouth. “I swear to god, you fucking bug, if you’ve gone and broken my nose again I’ll-“

“-Shut up!” Zim shrieks, pak legs unfurling and clanking onto the concrete. He rises above Dib and encroaches slowly, legs clacking with each step. “You.. you worm! Do you have any idea what you could have done?”

“Dude, it was just some papers. I didn’t even read them for christ’s sake. They’re in Irken, you of all people should know I’m slow at translating that chicken scratch of yours.” Dib looks forlornly at the stack of crumpled papers a few feet away, scattered and likely marked with a spray of Dib’s blood. He turns back to look up at Zim when he snarls, reaching out a gloved claw to shove Dib back hard.

“They’re not for you, they’re Zim’s private papers!” Zim leans further over Dib, tongue curling and spitting flecks of saliva onto Dib’s face. Dib scrubs at his face, remembering how disrespectful spitting is considered in Irken culture. It burns a little.

“I don’t give a shit what they are. I didn’t even mean to touch them! I just wanted to put my crap down.” He meets Zim’s eyes. They’re a deep red and set in a foul expression. “I’m not interested in your secrets. You can keep those. It’s not like I don’t know everything anyway.”

Zim stiffens and Dib’s expression softens despite himself. He runs a tired hand through his hair and steels his gaze.

“You don’t really think I’m that big of an idiot, do you? You’ve just been quietly shoving your fat green head into my life over the last year and suddenly you save my life. I don’t know man, a guy spends his entire life trying to kill you and then just stops you from bleeding out some random Tuesday? That was weird.“ Dib shrugs, looking away briefly.

“That does not mean anything, Dib-worm. You were bleeding all over my base, it was disgusting. Zim had to stop it somehow.”

Dib shakes his head.

“It’s okay, Zim. I know we’re friends. I don’t know why, and I don’t care to know - but I know you’re lost and don’t know where to go. I know, and it’s okay. I’m lost too. We can be lost together. Your leaders, the Tallest -“.

“Don’t.” Zim grits out, quiet in a way Dib has never heard, didn’t know was possible. Physically, he begins trying to reach one hand out to soothe, to touch, to reassure. Mentally, he begs his sister to come collect his corpse once she realises what most likely happened to him. Damn it, he hopes she realises.

He isn’t that surprised when Zim lunges at him, but he wishes he’d had more time to brace before an Irken claw punches into his chest to grab at the material of his shirt. He wheezes a little.

“You do not know what you speak of, you pathetic slime! Do not mistake your loneliness for Zim’s. Zim doesn’t need you, Zim doesn’t need this dust bowl of a planet. One more fucking word and I’ll finish what that disgusting cryptid creature started last year.”

The human swear word sounds weird coming out of the alien’s mouth, but it’s not the first time. He’d only ever heard Zim swear once before - specifically when he got shredded by a cryptid in the woods and, in a blood-loss haze, made his way to Zim’s base to start bleeding out on his frenemies floor. He knows how hard it is to admit how miserable you are on the inside, especially to the people that matter most.

Well, he had made it this far.

“I know you Zim, and it’s okay.”

Zim’s quiet for a moment before he speaks, clenching his jaw.

“Beg.”

“What?”

“Zim told you, one more word. Now you beg for your pathetic life, you insolent worm.”

“I’m not going to - Zim, stop it. You know I’m right. I care about you too! It’s fine!”

Zim snarls, fist clenched, pak legs raising him to his full height. Dib’s heart drops when he sees one leg glint as it lifts itself behind Zim, preparing to strike.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. He might actually die today. Shit.

“Beg!”

“No!”

“Beg!”

Shit. The leg is calibrating.

“I’m all you have! Kill me and you’ll have nothing. You know it too!”

Zim stops. The leg pauses. His eyes are wide, frightened, conflicted. He chokes out a pained sound, continuing to clench and unclench his fist. He yanks Dib closer by the shirt still tangled in his fist. Dib breathes heavily.

“Beg Zim not to kill you.” His voice is raw, tired. His eyes roam over Dib’s face, carefully categorising and assessing. The stilted pak leg drops back to the ground.

Dib’s whole body un-tenses despite the proximity. The alien’s face turns slowly into a somewhat unreadable resignation.

Dib swallows the lump.

“Please.” He whispers quietly. Swaying, pressing forward.

“You fool.”

[triviallytrue]

I know webnovels are kind of irrelevant compared to... everything else, but do you have any recommendations in the vein of those you've talked about/posted before?

I'm currently caught up on Pale Lights and TWI, and I'm trying to fill out my schedule to one new chapter a week without resorting to catching up on wildbow's work, or rereading Practical Guide until aforementioned have a backlog. Completed works are fine as well.

Here's my full webserial opinions list, with the general caveat that webserials are, on average, longer, more poorly paced, and less polished than print novels, and if you aren't hooked pretty early on you should probably drop it:

Finished or currently caught up:

A Practical Guide to Evil

The gold standard of the medium imo, definitely my favorite. It has its flaws like any other, but I feel more comfortable recommending it than most.

Pale Lights

PGTE's author's new work. Still in progress, imo has even more going for it than PGTE does. The setting is more original and the shape of the plot plays to the author's strengths more. Very fun first book, maybe my first recommendation.

Worm

The experience of reading Worm is not very good, but the experience of having read Worm is great. Incredibly compelling story with shitty execution. Is it worth it? I dunno.

HPMOR

The 2% of people who won't find HPMOR too insufferable to read have already read it. Everyone else, steer clear.

UNSONG

Both short and polished by web serial standards. Weird, irreverent, mostly gets better as it goes. Some people will be put off by it, but if you like the first few chapters I think it's excellent.

Did not finish:

Ward

The sequel to Worm. Ward has all of the same issues as Worm with none of the redeeming qualities. Even if you really liked Worm, you still probably shouldn't read Ward.

Pale

By the same author as Worm and Ward, and (I think?) generally considered to be his best work (or best since Worm). I liked it but ended up petering out partway through - it's long even by webserial standards. Will probably pick it up again someday.

The Wandering Inn

I think the longest work of fiction in the English language? Or maybe any language? In a medium full of prolific authors, pirateaba puts them all to shame. Surprisingly decent, but nowhere near good enough to justify its length.

Almost Nowhere

Deeply weird, incredibly compelling, dense enough that I got stuck when I was trying to power through it. Will return to it sooner or later.

Are there more? There's definitely more. But this is off the top of my head, and most of the rest is schlock that is not worth mentioning.