#look at my babies 💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

[dollyswishingwell]

just reread your crybaby MC hcs and it made me feel sooo fluffy i need more plz plz plz i’m begging even just a part two 🥺💕

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ His crybaby P.2

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ fluffff, dramatic ness as always

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ He will always comfort you

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The moment it shattered, it was like the air was knocked from your lungs.

You stood there in the center of your gilded sea-view kitchen, frozen, staring down at the beautiful ivory-and-gold bowl now cracked tragically on the floor. Your favorite one from your Mariposa Rosé collection, the one Rafayel had custom-ordered from an eccentric island designer just because you said it looked “like a seashell that belonged to a princess.”

Your bottom lip quivered.

You didn’t even mean to drop it, you just got distracted scrolling through accessories for your new silk robe set, and then it slipped. One second, it was in your hands, and the next,

Snap. Crack. Shatter.

A sob bubbled up in your chest like a wounded little kitten.

You crouched beside the porcelain ruins with wide, glossy eyes, fingers trembling as you whispered,

“No… my bowl… it’s ruined… it’s all ruined… the whole set is ruined—”

And just like that, the tears welled up. Huge, glittering, spoiled tears spilling down your pretty cheeks.

By the time Rafayel appeared—drawn by your quiet, pathetic wail, he found you crouched on the floor in your frilly pink house robe, sobbing softly and pawing helplessly at the pieces like a princess mourning a fallen kingdom.

“Baby?” he blinked, dropping the novel he was reading. “What happened? Did something—did someone—hurt you—?”

You pointed dramatically at the broken bowl.

He followed your gaze. Then blinked again.

“…That’s it?” he said, baffled. “That’s what has my little pearlie crying like the world ended?”

“It’s not just a bowl,” you sniffled, crawling toward him on your hands and knees like a sulky little cat. “It was my favorite, Raffy. It’s from the seaside rose line, now the whole set is off. You can’t just have five bowls! It’s—it’s cursed now!”

He barely managed to suppress a grin, crouching to meet you and pulling you into his lap with a sigh.

“My dramatic little darling,” he cooed, rubbing your back with slow, soothing strokes. “You break a single dish and suddenly the whole home is haunted.”

You swatted his chest half-heartedly with your little fists. “Don’t tease me! I’m upset!”

“I know, I know,” he whispered, kissing the corner of your eye gently. “I can see you’re devastated. Absolutely tragic.”

You sniffled harder and collapsed into him. “Raffy… I really liked that one… It was so pretty. I was gonna make fruit salad in it for you tonight…”

“Oh, that I care about,” he teased, though his voice was already soft with guilt and fondness. “No fruit salad? That is a crime.”

You whimpered and buried your face into his neck, clinging to him with both arms like the big strong comfort plushie he always became when you were sad.

“Shhh,” he murmured into your hair, rocking you just slightly. “Don’t pout, little crybaby. I’ll call the designer in the morning, hmm? We’ll get another full set. Or two. One to use and one just to look pretty on the shelf.”

“Y-You promise?” you hiccupped.

Rafayel smiled, cradling your cheeks between his hands and kissing the tip of your nose.

“I’ll do one better,” he said smugly. “I’ll have him name the next set after you.”

Your eyes lit up through your tears. “Like… the wifey Collection?”

“Exactly,” he purred. “Inspired by the prettiest little housewife in the world. Comes in pink. Exclusive. Only one exists. No touching allowed unless you’re married to her.”

You blinked. Then flung your arms around his neck again with a squeaky, dramatic wail:

“You’re the only one who understands meee!”

He chuckled warmly, carrying you off the kitchen floor like you were fine china yourself.

“No more touching dishes, angel,” he murmured against your ear. “From now on, you’re banned from the kitchen. I’ll do all the cooking. Or we’ll just hire another chef. You can sit on the counter and look pretty while I feed you grapes.”

You sniffled. “…Okay.”

He grinned. “That’s my good little baby.”

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

It was supposed to be a peaceful evening. Zayne had just gotten home from the hospital, white coat off, sleeves rolled up, shirt half-unbuttoned as he moved around the estate’s sleek kitchen preparing tea for the two of you while you fussed with plating pastries on your beloved designer tea set.

The Porcelaine Blanche d’Étoile collection. Limited edition. You made him fly you to the private showroom in Italy to pick it out.

And then you dropped the plate.

It slipped right through your freshly moisturized fingers.

The crash echoed through the marble like a thunderclap.

Zayne’s head snapped around immediately, but you were already frozen, arms outstretched, eyes wide, looking down at the shattered porcelain with horror like you’d just witnessed a crime scene.

“Z-Zaynie,” you whispered in despair. “I broke it…”

He was already walking over, concern in his eyes, until he saw it was just a plate. Then he stopped short, rubbing the bridge of his nose with a small exhale.

“Angel. It’s just one dish—”

“No it’s not!” your voice cracked.

And then your lip trembled. Your cheeks flushed. And just like that, you were crying.

“Now the whole set’s ruined—” you hiccupped as fat tears began to trail down your cheeks. “It’s not complete anymore and I can’t look at it without seeing this stupid, ugly gap and, and the pattern won’t line up now and—I liked that one the most! It had the starburst mark right in the middle…”

Zayne blinked. Slowly.

Then sighed.

“Of course it did.”

You whimpered louder, kneeling dramatically beside the shattered remains in your silken robe like a weepy widow. “It’s not fair! That set was perfect… now it’s cursed, tainted, ruined—”

“Okay, come here.” He reached for you, scooping you up into his lap right there on the kitchen floor. “You’ll give yourself a nosebleed if you cry any harder over porcelain.”

“But Zaaaayne,” you sobbed, burying your face into his shirt. “I can’t just replace it, it’s limited edition!”

Zayne rubbed slow circles into your back, letting you sob into his chest as he cradled your tiny frame with the same steady gentleness he used in the OR. His voice was low, calm, but tinged with the smallest amused sigh, because this? This was classic you.

“Okay,” he murmured into your hair, “I’ll call the curator at the Milan showroom. You’re still on their private list, right?”

“I don’t know!” you wailed. “What if they’re sold out? What if they’re gone forever?!”

“Then I’ll find the original artist and commission a new one,” he said flatly, already mentally pulling strings. “A better one. With a reinforced edge. And your initials engraved.”

You peeked up at him through wet lashes. “Really?”

Zayne brushed your hair gently behind your ear and leaned in to kiss the tears from your cheeks.

“Of course,” he said softly. “I don’t care if you break every dish in this house. You’re still my spoiled little wife. I’ll replace them all ten times over if it keeps that pretty pout off your face.”

You sniffled. “…Ten times?”

He gave a low hum. “At least. Though if you break another one in the next 48 hours, I’m bubble-wrapping the entire kitchen.”

You let out a soft whine and pressed into his chest like a needy kitten, arms looping tightly around his waist.

“Cuddle me until I forget it happened.”

“You’re not moving until morning,” he muttered, already standing with you in his arms. “I’ll bring the pastries to bed. You can eat off my chest if you’re scared of plates now.”

You mumbled, sleepy and teary and spoiled:

“…You’re the best.”

He kissed your temple with a low exhale and whispered against your skin:

“I know, baby. I know.”

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

The cup slipped from your fingers while you were showing it off.

You had just spent the whole morning twirling around the penthouse in your soft, lace-trimmed robe, gently rearranging the display cabinet Xavier had custom-built just for your Mythic Dream tea set. It was whimsical and elegant and sparkly and rare, hand-painted in shimmering moonlight hues with little dream creatures on every piece.

You were holding your favorite one, the lavender-and-blue cup with the little winged rabbit on it, and twirling as you told Xavier exactly what dessert you were planning to match it with.

And then it was gone.

One slip.

Clink. Crack. Shatter.

You froze. The smile dropped off your face.

Your heart sank with it.

“…Bunnycup,” you whispered, staring in disbelief at the porcelain wreckage on the polished marble. “I—I dropped my Bunnycup…”

From his place lounging on the couch with his datapad, Xavier looked up slowly, head tilted.

“…You dropped what?”

“My favorite one,” you said breathlessly, your voice wobbling. “It’s gone. It’s dead. She’s gone.”

“…Oh,” he said, blinking slowly.

You turned away from him abruptly, crouched in front of the shattered piece like a mourning widow. Your eyes brimmed with tears. You looked at it like you were at a funeral.

“I dropped her. She was the prettiest one. And now she’s dead and the whole cabinet is cursed and—” you sniffled, “I was gonna make violet cake for her…”

You let out the softest broken sob.

Xavier stared.

Then carefully set his datapad down.

“…Wait, are you crying?”

You didn’t answer. Your sniffles got louder.

“Starlight?”

You wailed louder and flopped down fully onto the rug beside the wreckage, tearfully hiding your face in your sleeves.

He was beside you in seconds, sliding down to his knees with furrowed brows and frantic hands.

“Did it cut you? Are you hurt?”

“No,” you hiccupped. “I’m emotional! That was my favorite cup and now she’s gone! Her little bunny face is in shards—I named her!”

Xavier stared at the broken porcelain. Then at you.

“…You named it?”

“Her name was Cloudia!” you cried.

He blinked again. Then let out a helpless little breath and pulled you fully into his lap, tucking your head under his chin.

“Okay. Okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize this was a funeral.”

“It is!”

“I’ll make arrangements.”

You sniffled.

He gently rocked you back and forth, eyes closing as he pressed soft kisses to the crown of your head.

“I’ll buy another,” he murmured. “A whole new set. No. Ten sets. All the bunnies. And wings. I’ll have someone make a sculpture of her. I’ll frame the shards. I’ll turn it into a shrine in the hallway.”

“R-Really?” you whimpered.

Xavier looked deadly serious. “I’ll build a moonlit garden in her honor.”

You hiccupped, peeking up at him through damp lashes.

“…I love you so much,” you whispered.

He cradled your cheeks in his hands, brushing away a tear with his thumb and kissing it.

“You are the most beautiful, sensitive, dramatic little thing I’ve ever loved,” he whispered back. “And I will mourn Bunnycup with you forever.”

You flopped into his chest again.

“Carry me to bed and feed me chocolate.”

He exhaled softly, lifting you with ease. “Consider it done, starlight.”

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

It happened during your ‘princess-core living room redecoration’ phase.

You’d decided one of the shelves needed to be “balanced” with something tall and whimsical, so Sylus (without question) had acquired an absolutely obnoxious but stunning vase: a slender rose-gold and opal heirloom piece from a royal estate, one of a kind, rumored to be enchanted. It had vines carved into the neck, subtle gold leafing, and shimmered like it had moonlight trapped in the glass.

You loved that vase.

And you shattered it trying to scoot the couch two inches to the left.

You didn’t even realize it was tipping over until it was already mid-air. Time slowed. You gasped, reaching for it like a damsel in a slow-motion tragedy,

CRASH.

You stood there frozen, socked feet on velvet rugs, clutching a throw pillow and staring at the sparkling ruin.

The shock hit first.

Then the guilt.

Then came the tears.

“Noooo…” you whispered, trembling as you dropped to your knees. “No, no, no… Sylus is gonna kill me, that was one of a kind!!”

Cue your dramatics. Full sobs. Teary gasps. Hiccupping into your hands as you wailed over the broken vase like it had been your childhood pet.

“I ruined it! It was so beautiful! It’s all my fault, now it’s goooone—!”

By the time Sylus entered the room, he found you on your knees, surrounded by glittering glass, hair slightly messy, cheeks wet, looking like a tragic little heiress from some tear-soaked opera scene.

He blinked.

Paused.

Then said, flatly:

“…You’re crying over the vase?”

You wailed harder.

Sylus sighed, unamused. “Darling. It’s a vase.”

“It was the prettiest one in the whole world!” you sobbed. “You said it was enchanted! I was gonna name it after us, put roses in it, now it’s gone forever and the whole room is unbalanced!!”

“Unbalanced,” he repeated, deadpan.

“I’m emotionally devastated,” you hiccupped.

A beat of silence.

And then his composure cracked.

He walked over in slow, deliberate steps, crouched in front of you, and tilted your chin up with his gloved fingers.

“Poor little thing,” he murmured, eyes glinting. “Is this how the world ends? Because your vase broke?”

You pouted at him with wet lashes and cried louder.

He chuckled darkly under his breath, kissed your pouty lips, then scooped you right off the floor like you were a little doll.

“You are the most dramatic creature I’ve ever loved,” he whispered, nuzzling your tear-streaked cheek. “You realize I could buy the entire estate that vase came from, yes?”

“But that vase is goooone—!”

“Then I’ll steal it back from the past,” he said, amused. “Or bribe the artist’s descendant to make you ten better ones. We’ll fill every corner of this house with glittering, gaudy glass. You’ll drown in roses and sparkle, my little crier.”

You sniffled against his chest.

He settled onto the settee with you curled in his lap, stroking your hair with idle fingers.

“Next time, call someone to move furniture,” he muttered, though there was no real bite in it. “You’re not allowed to cry unless you’re breaking someone else’s things. Understood?”

You looked up at him miserably. “…You’re not mad?”

He leaned in and kissed the corner of your mouth.

“No,” he said. “But only because watching you weep like some grief-stricken little princess might be the most entertaining thing I’ve seen all week.”

You whined, burying your face deeper into his expensive silk shirt.

“I want five vases. All pink.”

“Ten. And I’ll commission a painting of the broken one to hang above the fireplace. ‘The Fall of Opal,’ starring my very fragile little wife.”

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

You were just trying to make him breakfast.

It was early. The Skyhaven penthouse was quiet, sunlight spilling across polished floors, and you, still in one of Caleb’s old black shirts with your bare legs peeking out, had just finished plating his favorite fruit on your favorite designer ceramic bowl. You were so proud. You were humming.

And then you bumped your elbow on the corner.

Crash.

The sound of shattering ceramic echoed like a gunshot.

You froze.

The bowl, the gorgeous, shimmering ceramic one from the exclusive Skyhaven artisan boutique, the one with tiny amethyst marbling, lay in pieces on the floor.

“No… no no no,” you gasped, hand flying to your mouth. “Not that one—please not that one…”

You sank slowly to your knees, devastated. The entire set had been your pride, your favorite for special mornings. And now the one with the prettiest veining was gone.

Your lip wobbled.

The tears were instant.

Caleb appeared in the doorway a few moments later, still in black sleep pants, chest bare, hair slightly tousled from bed, rubbing his eyes. “I heard something break.”

You whipped around with watery eyes, clutching your knees like a little girl.

“I broke it…”

He blinked.

“…You’re crying?”

You sniffled. “It was the prettiest bowl in the set. I was just trying to make you breakfast and now, now it’s ruined, and the rest will never look the same and I loved that bowl!”

Caleb’s entire expression changed in an instant.

The sleepy, casual look was gone.

He crossed the room fast, crouching in front of you and cupping your face.

“Did you cut yourself?”

“N-No…”

“Are you sure?” He grabbed your hands, inspecting them closely. “You’re trembling. You’re in shock. Breathe.”

You hiccupped. “I’m not in shock, I’m just, really really sad!! It was my favorite one, and now it’s shattered and ugly and the set is ruined!”

Caleb pulled you straight into his chest.

“That doesn’t matter,” he muttered, pressing a hand to the back of your head. “None of that matters. You’re okay. You’re okay. Don’t cry over something like that.”

“But I liked it,” you mumbled into his skin.

“Then I’ll buy you ten more.”

“It was limited edition.”

“I’ll commission a new set,” he said firmly. “Exactly the same. Better. Reinforced. I’ll put a standing order in with the artisan. You’ll never have to lift a hand again. You hear me, pips?”

You nodded weakly, sniffling.

He scooped you off the floor effortlessly, carried you to the couch, and wrapped you in one of the soft fleece blankets he always kept near in case you got cold. Then he sat beside you and gently tucked you into his lap like you were made of glass.

“I don’t ever want to see you cry over something like this again,” he murmured. “Things can be replaced. You can’t.”

You whimpered.

He wiped your cheek with his thumb.

“You’re not allowed to break down unless it’s me who breaks something,” he added, softer this time. “Understand?”

You nodded again, clinging to him like he was your whole planet.

“You’re not mad?”

He looked down at you, at your teary lashes, your pouty little lips, and shook his head once.

“No,” he whispered. “But I am upset.”

“Why…?”

“Because you thought I’d care more about a bowl than my wife’s tears.”

You sniffled, leaning up to kiss the side of his throat in apology

He stroked your hair slowly.

“I’ll clean it up. You stay here and cry it out in my lap. Let me take care of everything.”

[musingsofheaven]

Hello!! I adore your Art fics and was wondering if you’d do one with top/dom!Art x Sub!reader and she has a really bad oral fixation throughout her normal day buts it’s especially bad when she’s upset, and she is, also if possible if you could somehow fit in NSFW themes I’d really appreciate it! Once again love love love your work!💕

Sorry if this is gibberish I suck at requesting stuff

SLURRED, SLIPPY, SHINY.

summary: It’s not new. You’ve always had a thing for using your mouth when your feelings get too big and you go quiet. And Art knows that silence, knows exactly what you need when it hits. He never makes you explain. Just cups the back of your head and tells you, “Breathe through it, baby.”

pairings: ceo!art donaldson x young girlfriend!reader

warning: 4.2k words. mature themes. oral fixation. age gap. power imbalance. oral sex (m!receiving). gagging / light choking. spit / drool / mess. aftercare. read responsibly.

note: this request has been sitting in my inbox since june 7 and i swear i wasn’t ignoring it :(! sorry … sighs. anyway, i saw “oral fixation when she’s upset” and i immediately felt exposed. why would you call me out like that. do you know how many things i’ve put in my mouth just to not cry?? like it was a coping mechanism. and surprise!!! it was!!! 🤪 and yep… we’re here now. she’s soft. she’s messy. she’s gagging a little. and she’s regulated by one (1) emotionally available dom named art donaldson. (I WANT SOFT DOM ART) To anon, i’m sorry it took me long. i love you. thank you for requesting this. 💗

You should’ve grown out of it. That’s what everyone said- quietly, politely, like it wasn’t a big deal. Like it’s just a phase. Just something you’d stop doing once your brain settled, but it’s not. As much as you want it to stop, it didn’t. It started when you’re young, with your thumb, then your shirt collar that you’re subtly putting between your mouth when you’re alone, hoodie strings chewed until they frayed. Note: Each one of your hoodies.

Teachers, doctors, and relatives offered solutions: rubber sticks, bracelets, soft pens. You tried. But nothing worked like having something in your mouth. It doesn’t work. You almost broke down when someone asked what it was when you left your bag open. It wasn’t just a habit. You know that. It was need- pressure, focus, quiet. It’s something. It’s yours. Something to help you feel safe. A comfort.

You learned to hide it as you got older. No more thumb sucking (when you’re at public), but your pens still had bite marks. You went through straws too fast. Got flattened and looks like it has been murdered. You pressed your fingers to your lips, mouthed your sleeves, and gnawed your cheeks. You thought it would fade. It didn’t. There’s a time you think it’s fading, not until it happened again, when something triggered you.

It’s worse when you are upset, more than the normal things you do. You didn’t cry or yell. You just went quiet. You bit down. Sucked your fingers raw. Let your sleeves stay wet. Full of drool. You hated how it looked. How did it make you feel small. It can be disgusting, but a good feeling at the same time. You tried to be better. Find solutions on your own when you get older. Therapy, coping tools, breathing tricks- you did it all. But your mouth always ended up full again. Again. And again.

It got harder to ignore around people, especially during sex. When your mouth was busy, your head was quiet. Not because you wanted to be good. Just because it helped. But it got messy- too much drool, too fast, too desperate. You look like you’re eager to suck them off or get fucked. You could always tell when they felt weird about it. They’d pull away. Wipe your chin as if it’s giving them problems. Give you a break you never asked for.

So you stopped letting anyone see it. Bit your cheek. Sometimes it’s too hard you can taste the metallic flavor from your blood. Swallowed the need. Tried to act normal. Masking it in front of other people. Tried to stay quiet without help. You didn’t want to explain. It’s too hard to do it anyway. You didn’t want to see that look- confused, a little uneasy, like they didn’t know what you were doing, or why it mattered.

And then you met him. A quiet gala. A borrowed bracelet. A drink you didn’t finish. He noticed you- not because you were young or pretty, but because you stirred your glass too long, because your fingers kept brushing your mouth like they didn’t know where else to go. The way you lick your lips too much to the point it’s making them dry. You didn’t even realize. But he did.

And for once, someone didn’t look confused. He just watched you more than he spoke. Noticed your jaw, your hands, the way your voice caught when your mouth was empty. But he never pointed it out. Never asked. He just made space. Let you sit closer. Let you speak less. Let you handle yourself. Let you do your mannerisms. Let you know it. And for the first time, you didn’t feel like you had to hide.

Now- now that you’re here, curled up on the floor of his penthouse, sleeves damp, fingers trembling, mouth aching for something to hold- he still doesn’t ask questions. Just let you stay there. Not really get you up because he knows your habits by now. And he’s in the middle of a meeting. Remote. Earbud in, laptop open, voice low. Even as he talks about projections and timelines and things you don’t understand but his other hand- his free hand- is resting gently on your face, two fingers pressed into your mouth like it’s second nature.

You keep his fingers warm inside your mouth. You’re curled against his thigh, knees tucked under you, breathing soft and shallow as you suck on them. Slow. Steady. Sloopy. Like it’s the only thing keeping you from falling apart. You’ve already soaked his skin. Spit clings to the knuckle and to your chin. Your jaw aches. Your lashes are wet. You don’t even know how long it’s been.

You haven’t spoken since you crawled across the floor and tugged on his sleeve. Soft and with the purpose of disturbing him in the middle of his meeting. Your chest is tight and your eyes are glassy, too full to say a word. You didn’t ask. You didn’t have to. He looked down once, watched your lip tremble, and slipped his fingers past your mouth like he was giving you medicine. Like he knows what you need. Like it’s your fix.

You’ve been like this ever since- mouthing and whimpering, drooling quietly while he keeps talking like there’s nothing unusual happening. Nothing at all. Just you. You’re on the floor. His fingers dig deep into you. “…no, we’ll review it again on Thursday,” he says, thumb brushing under your chin.

“I’ll send over the final numbers after this call.” You whine around his fingers- quiet, desperate- and he doesn’t even blink, just looking straight at this damn meeting. “Shh,” he quietly murmurs, barely audible. His pinky strokes your cheek. “You’re fine, baby. Just keep going.”

You try to behave. You really do. Keep going, he said. But the second he pulls his fingers free- spit, wet, and warm- your mouth feels too empty to breathe right. So you whimper again unintentionally, lips still parted, breath catching in your throat like you’re falling.

He doesn’t look down. Just wipes his hand on the thigh of his sweats and lifts the edge of the desk with his knee so you can crawl more between him. You do- immediately, silently, settling between his legs like you’ve done this before. (You do. Multiple times. Like you already trained for it.)

He’s seated in his office chair, laptop balanced in front of him, camera on. Framed from the chest up. Mic hot. Voice calm. Authoritative. Composed. “… No, we need to revise the it if the acquisition falls through. We can’t afford a delay.” You kneel more comfortably under the desk, hands light on his thighs, cheek pressed to his lap. Like a lap dog. But you didn’t do anything much, you just pressed it, just for closeness, just to feel him- but the second you catch the heat of him through the fabric, your lips part again. You mouthed at him through the cotton. Lips moving with intent. Soft. Unthinking. Your body leads before your brain can follow. A soft noise escapes your throat- barely anything- but enough to be heard.

There’s a pause. “…everything alright over there?” He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t shift. Doesn’t glance down. His voice doesn’t change. He’s acting like you’re not below him. Like you’re not needy. Like you don’t want more of him in your mouth.

“Yeah,” he says. Just a beat. “All good.”

His hand slips under the desk again, finds the back of your head, and presses down gently against his thigh. Then, without pausing the call or breaking eye contact with the screen, he pulls his cock out- slowly, one-handed- just tugging the waistband of his sweats low enough to let it rest heavy and flushed against his thigh.

“Come on,” he whispers to you, too quiet for the mic to catch. “Since you’re already shaking.” You lean in automatically, lips parted, spit already pooling, and wrap your mouth around the head with a soft sigh. You lick the tip like a lollipop. Tasting his pre cum under your tongue. He exhales through his nose, doesn’t react. “…we’ll circle back on Friday,” he says into the call, calm and smooth, while you suck him quietly under the desk.

He doesn’t know what upset you. Not yet. Not ever since you crawled underneath, since he’s already in the meeting when you did that. But he knew something was wrong the moment you knelt beside him- sleeves tugged over your hands, mouth trembling, silent. You hadn’t said anything. You didn’t need to. You just looked up with your glossy eyes, like you just came from crying and your mouth shining with spit. You touched his wrist, and he gave you his fingers like it was instinct.

Now your mouth is stretched around something thicker, deeper, and you’re curled between his legs, hands braced on his thighs, jaw working slowly. Your spit drips down your chin and onto your hands, but his voice doesn’t change. “…that’s fine. Just update them before it goes to legal,” he says evenly. You hum around him like you’re agreeing. Like you’re part of his little meeting. His hand flexes at the back of your head after you hum, must the vibrations of it have affected him. He holds it not for praise, not control. Just contact. You always need contact.

He glances down once. Just to see you like this- lips soaked, brows furrowed, throat working hard to take more than you should. He almost thrust so deep that you could be stuffed, but he didn’t. He doesn’t stop you. Doesn’t slow you down. He knows you’ll talk later, after your jaw stops aching and your head clears. Right now, this is the only way you know how to speak. But you’re struggling now- your lips stretched wide, eyes burning, spit messier by the second.

The harder you try to stay quiet, the worse it gets. The more noise threatening to escape your mouth. A whimper escapes, soft and broken, and he feels it. He’s aware of how you are acting below him. Still, he doesn’t pause the meeting. He just lifts one hand off the desk and presses his thumb into the corner of your mouth- not rough, not gentle, just there. Steady. Firm. Guiding.

He eases you off with slow pressure, lets your lips fall from his cock with a gasp. Then pushes his thumb over your tongue, wetting it, quieting you. Grounding you from breaking from it. He knows sometimes you can get overstimulated even if you've already stuffed your mouth.

He lets his cock rests hot against while his thumb plugs into mouth beside it like a stopper, keeping the sound in. “…yes, I’ll review the contract tonight,” he says calmly to the meeting. “No changes on my end.” You blink up at him, glassy-eyed, his thumb still resting against your tongue. You suck on it too, softly, rhythmically, just to keep yourself grounded. To stay in your body. To not cry.

And he lets you. Keeps you there- knees sore, chin sticky, heart pounding, mouth full of him- because this isn’t about making you feel better right now. It’s about keeping you still. Quiet. Held. Just content until the meeting concludes. He doesn’t stroke your hair. Doesn’t tell you you’re good. He just finished his work. Lets you stay where you are, sucking on him like it’s the only thing tethering you to the ground. When the meeting finally winds down- just wrap-up and sign-offs- he clicks once, flatly: “I’ll review everything by tomorrow. Thanks, everyone.” And then he ends the call.

Click. Silence. Like he’s so eager. The shift is instant. He exhales once, slow, and reaches under the desk to grab your wrist- not rough, just firm enough to say: you’re not staying down there. You don’t have time to react and you barely get your hands beneath you before he’s pulling, slow and steady, making you crawl out with your knees catching on the floor. You pout at him because it made you remove your mouth from him.

Your lips are swollen, eyes stinging, his spit and slick cock brushing your cheek as you move. You end up kneeling between his thighs, half slumped in his lap, fingers clutching at his sweats like you’re afraid he’ll take it all away again. But really? In this state? You’re afraid he’ll do it. His thumb shoved back inside your mouth, lazy and wet, soaking from how long you’ve had it before he pulled it out for a moment to get you underneath the desk.

He brushes your chin, glances at your face- pink, glossy, ruined... and pretty. “You gonna tell me what that was about?” he asks, voice low. You shake your head. Just enough. Too shy to say it. Not ready to talk about it. “No?” he repeats, brow twitching.

You pull off his thumb slowly, spit stretching from your lips, then whisper, “Don’t wanna talk...” It cracks your voice. He knows what it means. He knows what he needs to do. You sound shameful. Quiet. Like it hurts to admit. He looks at you for a long second, blank, unreadable- then leans back in his chair and spreads his thighs. “Alright,” he says. “Come get it.”

You’re already moving the moment he said that, dragging your palms up his legs, mouth open before he finishes speaking. You open your mouth wide enough to cater it. You take the head in first- soft, slow, then deeper. Just enough. Maybe the tip is almost kissing your throat. He doesn’t guide you. Doesn’t hold your head. Just watches. Admiring the way you take what you need. The way your lips wrap around it. The way you look.

When you moan around him, eyes slipping shut, he finally lets one hand drop into your hair. “There you go,” he murmurs. “Take what you need.” You press your palms to his knees and sink until your lips meet the base, breath catching, tears stinging your lashes. But you don’t gag, you move slowly, adjusting to it even though you’ve done it many times now. He doesn’t move. Just lets you fuck yourself on him- slow, sloppy, desperate- until your spit coats his thighs, dripping in strings from your chin. Your whole body trembles from the stretch, from how full you are, from how long you’ve been holding everything in.

Then he shifts. Just a little. He put his hand on your hair and grips your hair tightly, not in a way that hurts. He tilts his hips forward once, deep, slow, and the sound you make around him shudders straight up his spine. God, you sound so good, so he does it again. Then again. Three soft thrusts, lazy and controlled, just enough to hear you choke. Just enough to test you to see if you can take it much today. You flinch, but don’t pull away.

You moan- weak, ruined- and he groans softly. “Fuck. You’re really not gonna stop, huh?” Another push, deeper now, hitting your throat. “Not even gonna try.” You look up at him through wet lashes, mouth stretched, eyes pleading. He holds you halfway down, barely letting you breathe, cock throbbing on your tongue like it’s trying to get something out of you you haven’t said yet.

“You needed this bad, didn’t you?” he murmurs, brushing your cheek, wiping spit from your lip. “What happened, sweetheart? Hm? Who made you like this?” He asks. So filthy, making you squirm. Making you feel the tingling through your body because of the sound of his voice. And then, just to feel your throat a little panic, he thrusts again, rougher now, and you gag, tears spilling free.

He doesn’t stop. Just sighs, voice soft. “There you go. That’s better.” Even when your throat clamps, even when your nose presses tight to his skin and your jaw starts to shake, you don’t stop. You learn to love this, giving a head, because he makes it enjoyable. You make a noise- high, wet, almost hurt- but you take it, nails digging into his thighs, spit dripping down his cock like it’s what keeps you breathing.

He exhales again, heavier this time, brushing your hair back from your face. His thumb wipes your chin clean, then strokes your cheek, down to the corner of your mouth where you’re still twitching, still open, still aching. You let him caress your face while you rest there, and your mouth is still full, but he’s not moving yet. “You still with me?” he asks, voice quiet. You nod, slow at first, then again, more sure-eager, already needy.

“You want more?” he asks, voice warm, cock still heavy on your tongue. You whimper around it. He smiles. “Yeah? You want me to fuck your throat, baby?” Your eyes widen- shiny, breathless- and you pause like the weight of it just hit you. You know he’s asking for a consent, knowing that it can be overwhelming for you to do it... especially when he fucks your throat, considering he’s above average and thick too. Then you pull off with a wet gasp, gaze locked on his, and say it like a confession: “Yes. Please.” That’s all he needs. “Good girl.”

He gathers your hair in one hand, lifts your chin with the other, and slides back in with no resistance- just heat, just hunger, just you opening for him like it’s instinct. “Breathe through your nose,” he murmurs, guiding you like always. Reminding you of the same things even though you already know what to do.

“Tap my leg if you need me to stop.” And then he starts- slow, careful, one deep push forward until he meets the back of your throat. He holds there, steady. Not teasing. Just giving you time. Like he’s training you. His hand stays in your hair, grounding you while your body adjusts, while your breath learns to shape around him.

You’re already trembling. Not from fear- just from fullness. From the weight. From the leak. From quiet. Your lips tremble around the base, your fingers curl into the arms of his chair, and your eyes flutter shut as he begins again- a slow drag out, then deeper on the next thrust. His thumb strokes your cheek. “That’s it,” he says, calmly.

“Don’t rush.” You hum before you feel the gag, soft and shallow, then swallow around him, and he groans- not from need, but from how good you are. How willing. He moves again, never too deep, never rough- just enough to feel your throat clench. “You feel that?” he murmurs. “That’s your limit. We’re not going past it yet.”

Your jaw aches. Spit spills freely now. He lets you sit there, face pressed to the root of him, mouth stretched and wet, like you’re trying to breathe through need alone. “You’re doing so good,” he says, like it’s just the truth. “Making space.” Then he slides out, dragging slick along your tongue, and pushes back in deeper this time- firm, measured, until your nose brushes his stomach and your whole body gives out. You’re crying again- he can feel it in the way your throat tightens, then relaxes. In the shift of your breath, the way your hands go soft. The way you go quiet.

“That’s my girl,” he breathes, and this time he means it. He rocks forward again, deeper, surer now- committing. You don’t gag. Don’t flinch. Your lips are red and swollen, your throat open and warm, and you’re wrapped around him like you were made for it. He feels the moment you surrender- when your tongue goes lax, when your breath slows, when your whole body holds still like you’ve given up everything but him. And it hits him all at once- not restraint, but awe. The way you fall apart just to feel full. Just to be good for him.

He lets you breathe there a moment, thick in your mouth, thumb brushing under your jaw while your lashes flutter and your body twitches. Then he leans forward, voice low and too gentle for how he’s looking at you. “Can I go a little faster now?” he murmurs, thumb swiping your spit-slick bottom lip. “Only if you want it.” You blink up at him, tearful and eager, nodding before your brain even catches up. You try to say yes, but it comes out muffled around his cock- your throat flexing like your body’s already answering for you. He groans quietly, settling back in the chair with both hands in your hair, still gentle, still grounding. “That’s my girl,” he says softly. “You’re sure?” Another desperate hum from you. That’s all it takes.

He starts slow again, but this time there’s rhythm, pace, weight, and pressure. His hips roll deeper, steadier, his grip guiding you only slightly as your lips stretch around him. Not forced. Not rushed. Just deliberate. Just enough. You gag once, shallow and quick, then breathe through it, moaning as your spit runs down your chin. You’re making a mess, and he loves you like this- loves how badly you want it, how completely you give yourself up to stay full. “So fucking good for me,” he murmurs, breath catching. “Look at you.”

And then he starts fucking your throat- slow and controlled, rocking into you with more force now, just enough to give you what you asked for. Something to keep your mouth too full to cry. “You’re okay,” he says through gritted teeth. “You’re doing so good.” And you are. You take it all, steady, obedient, dripping, and let him use your throat like it’s the only thing you were built for. You fall apart quietly, trembling with each deep push, your whole world narrowed down to the pressure, the stretch, the weight of him keeping you still. You’re safe. You’re here. And your mouth is where it belongs.

He’s getting close. You feel it in the way his hips start to stutter, the way his breath catches, how his cock throbs a little harder with each thrust. He slows down, lets you breathe around it, and rests heavily on your tongue. “Gonna come soon,” he murmurs, voice low. “Can I do it in your mouth, baby?” You nod right away- messy, needy, already whimpering for it. You don’t pull back. You don’t even think. Just press closer, mouth slick and stretched and shaking, and he groans when he sees how much you want it. “Good girl. Don’t move.”

He doesn’t thrust. Just holds you there- deep, swollen around the base- as he comes in slow, warm pulses, filling your throat while you take it, tear-streaked and open and perfect. You don’t stop. You swallow around him like it’s all you’ve ever known how to do. His hand stays in your hair, thumb stroking your temple, like he’s holding you together while you shake. You stay like that even after he’s finished, mouth still parted like you’re not ready to let go.

He slides out slowly, wet and sensitive, and your breath hitches at the loss. His thumb catches what’s leaking from your mouth and tilts your face up, not rough, just enough to see you. Your eyes are red, your jaw still twitching, your lips parted like you don’t know how to close them yet. He says nothing. Just breathes out quietly and reaches for your wrist.

You’re still trembling when he pulls you into his lap, steady but gentle, guiding you into place like he’s done it before. The office chair isn’t built for this- not wide enough, not soft- but you climb in anyway, folding messy and small. One leg drapes across his, the other hanging off the edge, and you curl into him instinctively, arms around his neck, face buried against his shoulder like you’re trying to disappear.

He holds you close. One arm across your back, one hand in your hair, thumb stroking slow circles through your sweater. You don’t speak. You just breathe, quiet and uneven, body limp but safe. The crying hasn’t stopped completely- it’s softer now, more like the aftershock than the storm. Your knees shake. Your mouth aches. Your fingers curl into his shirt like you’re holding onto gravity.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, voice low against your temple. “Shh. You did so good,” he whispers. “It’s over now.” You nod faintly. He asks if it hurt. You shake your head. “Good,” he says again, lips brushing your hair. “That’s all I care about.”

He doesn’t ask what upset you. Doesn’t press. Just holds you tighter, arms wrapped around your back like you’re something worth keeping still. You’ll tell him later- when your throat doesn’t burn and your heart isn’t stuck in your chest. Right now, he lets you stay soft.

You melt into him slowly. Floaty. Boneless. Barely blinking. Your hands relax in his shirt, breath slow against his neck, and when you nuzzle closer, he tilts his head, letting you burrow. Then the kisses start- quiet and light, scattered across his jaw, below his ear, the curve of his throat. Sleepy little thank yous. Not for effect. Just instinct. He smiles softly and curls his hand around your head. “You’re really sweet when you’re like this, baby.”

You hum in response, kissing his pulse once more. You don’t move. You don’t need to.

Then, quieter than anything: “Love you.”

It just slips out- muzzy and honest.

He stills. Just a beat.

Then sighs into your hair, arms holding you closer.

“I know,” he murmurs. “Love you too.”

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓© 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍

𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝

[kxsagi]

Hii! I was wondering if u could make a headcanon where the reader loves animals soo much. She lives for them, and she pets and loves every animal they see. I request this because i also have 2 dogs and wonder what the BL boys react to it. You can take your time. There's no need to rush it. Love you ! 💕🫶

“𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐲”

a/n: thank you!!! this req was so cute hehe

ft. isagi yoichi, shidou ryusei, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, karasu tabito, itoshi sae, itoshi rin, kaiser michael

isagi yoichi

he’s trying to act chill but you’re scaring him a little. 

you once stopped mid-date to sprint across the street just to feed a stray cat half of your sandwich. didn’t even look both ways. isagi had to full sprint after you like, “do you have a death wish over this orange furball???” 

when you made eye contact with a pigeon and whispered “his name is kimie,” he just stood there like: 🤨 who the hell is kimie. 

he tries to be supportive, but you have a habit of inviting animals to follow you home. like literally. one time you whistled at a duck and it waddled behind you for two blocks. isagi was horrified. 

“love… we can’t keep bringing wildlife into my apartment. that’s a feral possum.” and you’re like “his name is scrunkle, he’s misunderstood 🥺” 

he downloaded one of those animal recognition apps just so he can keep up when you start going “awww it’s a red-footed tortoise!! 🥹 hi baby!!!” 

he’ll never admit it, but he’s memorized your favorite animals so he can point them out first like “oh look! a calico cat! you love those right???” (he gets so proud of himself when you squeal.) 

shidou ryusei

your obsession feeds his chaos. 

he enables you. full chaos gremlin co-pilot. you say “look, a frog!!” and he’s already elbow-deep in a pond tryna catch it for you. 

“babe, i dare you to kiss that lizard.” “bet.” now you’ve got salmonella and he’s proud of it. 

he’ll fight a goose for you. literally. one hissed at you and he squared up like, “you tryna die today, duck bitch?” 

tried to gift you a ferret once. not adopt. gift. like surprise! here's a wriggling tube of energy in a shoebox. 

calls every animal “little freak” with affection. “look at this funky little freak, you love him huh?” (you do.) 

got banned from one zoo and three petting farms with you. worth it. 

nagi seishiro

he’s just along for the ride and slightly concerned. 

thinks all animals are kinda cool but also “... do we have to stop for every single one?” 

you once spent 15 minutes cooing at a group of baby ducks while he stood there like 🧍just waiting. almost fell asleep standing. 

holds your bag while you pet stray cats like a supportive husband. 

doesn’t know animal names though. “what’s that one?” “that’s a capybara.” “capy-yabba-dabba-doo? capybarnya?” 

when you showed him videos of otters holding hands he got a little too into it and now watches animal tik toks at 3 AM. he’s obsessed with capybaras now. thinks they’re his spirit animal. 

calls every cat “meow-meow.” no matter what. tuxedo cat? “meow-meow.” panther? “big meow-meow.” 

mikage reo

he’s rich but unprepared for your zookeeper tendencies. 

this man has never been around a dirty animal in his life. so the first time you pet a muddy stray dog and squealed, “baby!!!! look at his little face!!!!” he genuinely short-circuited. 

“babe, that thing hasn’t bathed since the ice age.” “then i’ll bathe him 🥹” 

you once made reo stop the car because you saw a turtle trying to cross the road. he thought it was a bag. now he triple-checks for moving bumps on the road. 

hired a private vet to check on the stray cat you fed once. didn’t even tell you. just pulled up like, “don’t worry, the cat’s got his shots now.” 

bought you a giant plush of every animal you’ve ever said “i love him” to. now your room looks like a jungle-themed museum. 

asked you seriously once, “... you wouldn’t leave me for a panda, right?” (you didn’t answer fast enough.) 

karasu tabito

you are his 13th reason, but he’s smiling through it. 

“babe, you cannot pet every dog on this street–” (you’re already gone, crouched next to a chihuahua in a sweater named sundae.) 

every walk turns into a rescue mission. “that bird looks sad.” “he just blinked, babe.” 

you once cried because you saw a video of a baby elephant hugging its caretaker and karasu had to pull over like “are you GOOD??” 

he sends you cursed photos of animals and says “this is u.” you reply “thank u 🥰” every time. 

jokingly bought you a “pet psychic starter kit” for your birthday. now you use it seriously. “his name is bartholomew and he said he had a hard childhood.” 

“you are one squirrel away from adopting a raccoon and naming it rocket.” (too late. you already did.) 

itoshi sae

why is she like this and why does he find it cute. 

he’s a minimalist. sleek, expensive, low-effort lifestyle. you? sobbing over worms on rainy sidewalks and moving them to safety. 

“you named a bee?” “yeah his name was sir buzzington.” he just blinks at you like you're the strangest thing he's ever loved. 

he pretends to be annoyed when you stop to pet dogs, but he’s the one taking secret photos of you cuddling them and setting it as his lock screen. 

lowkey jealous of a hedgehog you follow on instagram. “why does it get more likes than me.” “because he wears hats.” 

you once tried to sneak a frog into your luggage after a trip. he found it and just sighed, “at least name it something cool.” (you named it steve after the minecraft character.) 

doesn’t say much about your obsession, but he’ll deadpan “i saw a cool bird today. reminded me of you.” and that’s the highest compliment he can give. 

itoshi rin

he didn’t sign up for this but he’s unfortunately in love with you anyway. 

“don’t touch that–” too late. you’ve already crouched on the sidewalk whispering, “you’re the cutest baby bug i’ve ever seen.” 

rin genuinely doesn’t understand how you don’t fear rabies. or fleas. or death. “that raccoon looks like it pays taxes and has committed arson.” “okay, but he’s kind of cute tho???” 

when you start cooing at animals in a baby voice, he just stands next to you like an emotionally numb bodyguard. people think you hired him to protect you while you rescue worms. 

once walked into the room and caught you making kissy noises at a youtube video of a sea lion. just turned around and left. 

he doesn’t get it. he doesn’t get it. but one day you cried over a documentary about rescued baby bats and he panicked and bought you bat plushies from six different websites. 

now has a favorite neighborhood cat (he says he doesn’t, but he feeds it and mutters “sup, whiskers” every time he sees it. you saw. you never let it go.) 

you made him hold a ferret once and he looked like he was holding raw uranium. but now when you’re not looking, he googles “what do ferrets eat + do they bite.” 

kaiser michael

he acts disgusted, but he’s already naming the ducklings, too. 

the first time you stopped mid-sentence and sprinted to pet a dog, he flinched like you’d been shot. “IS THIS A MEDICAL EMERGENCY??” “no look at her little tail wag 🥹” 

scoffed so hard when you said “i wanna pet every animal in the world.” and then you saw a squirrel with a fluffy tail and he went quiet like “… okay, that one is kinda cute.” 

“don’t bring that street cat into my house.” two weeks later, he’s feeding it tuna and calling it ‘sir fluffsworth.’ 

pretends to be allergic just so he doesn’t have to chase after you every time you see a dog in a sweater. lies crumbles quickly when you accuse him of faking it to get out of pet store dates. (“okay fine, i’m not allergic but i don’t wanna spend €85 on a fish that looks like wet spaghetti.”) 

once tried to impress you by pointing out a hawk in the sky but it was a drone. he blamed the lighting. 

swears he’s “not a cat person,” but you left him alone for five minutes with a kitten and came back to find them cuddling and him whispering “you’re my special little guy aren’t you.” 

100% has a folder in his phone of animal pics you’ve taken. zooms in on them when he’s in a bad mood. pretends he’s not soft. fails miserably. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[xoxorory]

Where’s the dog !

POV: Fem!Reader & Damian Wayne Pairing: Damian Wayne x Fem!Reader Genre: Fluff | Humor | Chaos | Domestic Softness Featuring: Titus Word Count: 1K .Taglist🏷️: @simpingmyassoff , @shootingstargirl2001 (if you want to be added,comment down below!) requested by: @simpingmyassoff sorry it took long!!! I was finishing classes A/N: English isn't my first lenguage,enjoy! ! ! A/N 2: It's kind of inspired in how @fromdove (💕💞💓💗💖💘💝) writes damian. . .,please GO CHECK HER BLOG ! ! ! !

“He hid again,didn’t he?” 

‘’Pffft– what? Of course not!”

©𝒙𝒐𝒙𝒐,𝑹𝒐𝒓𝒚🐚 —-do not copy, repost, plagiarize,translate or feed any of my work into ai. I work hard to give quality content.

POV: You

Dog-sitting Titus should be easy. I mean, come on. He’s a dog. A big dog, sure, but mostly a big, fluffy, lovable dog who just wants to nap, chew his squeaky toys, and occasionally judge me for my lack of treats.

I’d done this countless times before. Titus stayed with me while Damian was off doing who-knows-what, and I’d happily take care of the giant fluffball. Feed him, walk him, throw his favorite toy until he got tired, repeat.

Simple.

Today was supposed to be just another normal Titus-sitting day.

And yet here I was, standing in my living room with my hands on my hips, heart thumping, and pillows thrown all over the floor like a tornado had hit my apartment.

Because Titus had vanished.

Literally.

It started an hour ago. I was cleaning up after one of Titus’s enthusiastic toy-chasing sessions, when I glanced around and noticed he wasn’t at his usual spot by the couch. No gentle snoring. No wagging tail brushing against the carpet.

Nothing.

That’s when my phone buzzed.

Lil’ Bratman 🦇:  I’m on my way to pick up Titus.

Oh great.

Great.

Because Titus was nowhere to be found.

“Okay,” I muttered, dropping onto my knees, scanning the floor for any signs of him. “Keep calm. He’s probably hiding. He loves hiding.”

Except that usually, when Titus hid, I could hear him. His nails tap-tap-tapping on the hardwood, or the faint squeak of his favorite red toy being tossed around. This time? Silence.

And the clock was ticking.

Damian’s text came again.

Lil’ Bratman 🦇: I’m five minutes away.

I was about to text back a frantic, “Hey baby! Um…I think I lost your dog,don’t kill me. xoxo” but I knew that would only make things worse. Damian’s eyebrow raise would be legendary.

No. I had to find Titus before Damian showed up.

So I launched into full search mode.

First, the couch cushions. I flipped and dug through every crevice, fishing out dust bunnies and a couple of crumbs, but no Titus.

Next, under the coffee table. No wagging tail. No big eyes staring at me.

“Come on, Titus,” I whispered, voice catching. “Please don’t make me look bad in front of Damian.”

I moved to the kitchen, thinking maybe he was trying to steal some snacks, but no. Empty floors.

The balcony door was closed, so no chance he escaped outside — plus, I was pretty sure he’d never survive the drop without some serious bat-gadgets.

Then I heard it. The tiniest squeak.

My heart jumped.

Titus’s toy.

I followed the sound, creeping around my bookshelf — and suddenly, there he was.

Curled up in the tiniest corner behind the books, happily gnawing on his red squeaky toy like it was the best thing in the world.

Oh my god.

Relief slammed through me in a tidal wave.

“Titus! You little stinker!” I scooped him up before he could run off again. His tail thumped against my arm as if to say, “I was just having some alone time, chill.”

I didn’t care.

I hugged him tight.

And then, because I was officially losing my mind, I looked around at the disaster zone my apartment had become.

Pillows from the couch tossed everywhere.

Blankets flung like flags of defeat.

My coffee table now sporting a suspiciously large scratch.

“Okay, okay, calm down,” I told myself. “Damian’s coming. You can do this.”

Almost like the universe heard me, the doorbell rang.

My heart jumped again.

“Okay, Titus,” I whispered, setting him down. “Time for Operation: Don’t Look Like You Lost Him.”

I straightened my hoodie, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

Damian stood there, expression unreadable, as usual.

His dark eyes flicked from me to Titus—who was now sitting politely by my feet, tail wagging.

“Welcome back,roohi! ,” I said, voice a little too cheerful.

Damian’s lips twitched—maybe the closest thing he had to a smile.

“You seem… relieved.”

I flushed. “Really? You’re making up things again”

He took the leash from my hand and clipped it to Titus’s collar.

Titus immediately jumped into Damian’s side, tail wagging furiously.

Damian glanced back at me, then said quietly, “I suppose I won’t ask where he was.”

I opened my mouth to protest.

But the way his eyes softened told me he already knew exactly what had happened.

And maybe, just maybe, he was choosing not to make me explain.

POV: Damian Wayne

I texted her fifteen minutes ago.

I’m on my way to pick up Titus.

Simple enough.

When I arrived at her place, I expected to see Titus sprawled on the floor, maybe half-asleep, or at worst, begging for a walk.

Instead, the door swung open, and there stood her—looking disheveled, slightly flustered, and clutching Titus like he was a fragile treasure.

My eyes scanned the room.

Pillows were strewn everywhere.

The coffee table bore a fresh scratch.

Blankets were tossed haphazardly.

The couch was upside down.

Clearly, some kind of Titus-related chaos had ensued.

I kept my expression calm, though inside I was amused.

“Titus,” I said softly, kneeling down to the dog’s level.

The giant mutt wagged his tail, tongue lolling happily.

Relief was written all over her face.

“You seem… relieved,” I said quietly, not really expecting a reply.

She flushed and gave a small laugh.

“Really?,” she said, “ You’re making up things again”

I clipped the leash to Titus’s collar.

The dog immediately pressed against my leg.

I glanced back at her.

“Where was he?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it.

I didn’t press.

Some things were better left unsaid.

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

STARRRRRRRR ✨✨✨✨✨

I saw the comfort reqs are open and had an idea.

You write Seonghwa so beautifully and with the summer vibes of GH3 (and the horrendous hit here in England at the moment), I’m envisioning 310 and 320. Sweaty, summer fun by the pool or beach. Maybe with a touch of coddling but in a comfy way from Hwa? 💕

Nothing screams comfort like the way you write him 🥺🥹

➯a/n: oooooH I LOVE YOU FOR THIS !! it's hawt as hell here too, i feel like we all need to cool down with caring hwa <3 thank you smmm and may i present:

Popsicles

➾In Which: The height of summer, the hotel pool, and your loving boyfriend.

❥Park Seonghwa x gn reader

♫"An empty pool, we both take a dive." -Emily Kinney, Popsicles ♫

310 + 320: needing to cool down + taking a trip

(¯ ³¯)♡genre: fluff fluff fluffy fluff

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: none really ! short and sweet, established relationship, sharing drinks, playful banter, hwa calls reader pretty (pretty can be for any gender !!), pet names: baby, love

➯a/n2: "star haven't you used this song as inspo before already ?" yuurrrp ! my favorite summer song <3

₊‧⁺stardust˖⋆ @sousydive @sunnysidesins @onyxmango @devilzliaison @ateezswonderland @queenofdumbfuckery @emilysecresy @kyomiingi @pansexual-and-eating-pancakes

♡masterlist + navigation !♡

ఌ

You wait outside of the ice cream shop, leaned against the wall and out of the way of the waves of people.

"Here, baby," Seonghwa reappears by your side, extending a popsicle towards you while sucking on one of his own.

"I told you I didn't want one." You pout, earning yourself an eyebrow raise as he looks between you and the cold sweet. "Fine, I changed my mind." You take it quickly, licking up the drop on the side of it and letting the coolness soothe over you.

"Thought you might have," he chuckles, taking your free hand in his gently and leading the way back into the bustling street.

It's a rarity for him to have so much time on his hands, but this summer brought along with it a much needed break for him and his group.

"What did you want to do today? We came out just for ice cream?"

"Mhm~" He hums around his popsicle, looking around at all the vibrant colors of the foreign summer.

"Hey," you lean to him conspiratorially, "Wooyoung and San are still going to that one restaurant right?"

"Mhm," he repeats himself, tilting his head.

"We could swim without getting splashed- woah!"

He holds your hand tightly, weaving through the crowd of people. "Let's go!"

ఌ

"Has it been long enough?" You whine, "they're going to sneak up any second, I can feel it. My WooSan senses are tingling..."

"They just left before we got here, love," he laughs, "we have to let the sunscreen sit for at least ten minutes, I don't want you to be burned-"

"Blah, blahhhh," you giggle, nudging his hip with yours as you both stand by the hotel pool.

It's ten o'clock on a Wednesday, so nobody else is here. The sun beats right down on you, gleaming across the crystal clear water. A drop of sweat runs down your neck.

He shuts the timer off as soon as it rings, throwing his phone onto the folding chair, "time!"

Before you even know what's happening, he wraps his arms around you and falls back first into the deep end of the pool, dragging you with him.

You emerge with a large smile, taking in a large gasp of air. "You jerk!"

He swipes his hair back and laughs, "you were the one who was sooo ready to get in~"

"I'm gonna get you back for this," you chuckle as you swim closer to him, being drug into his arms easily. You wrap your legs around his waist, arms floating in the water.

"I look forward to it," he beams, eyes sparkling in the cruel sunshine. "You have the rest of the summer to get me back."

ఌ

"How can you possibly be that fast?!" You pant as you lift yourself on the edge of the pool with your arms. "I'm never swim-racing you again."

"Long legs," he grins as he joins you. He reaches and drags the chair closer, grabbing a bottle of water and handing it to you. "Here, hydration, baby."

"Like a freaking spider." You deadpan as you take a sip before handing it to him.

"Thank you," he takes a sip before quickly spitting it out as he realizes what you said. "A spider?!"

"Oh, would you look at the timeeee," you squeal as you kick off the wall to get a head start in swimming away.

"You- get back here!"

ఌ

Floating hand in hand on your backs, the warmth of the sun meets the cool water around you.

You peek an eye open and look over to him. Only to find him doing the exact same thing.

"Oop-" You both turn your heads quickly, like you've been caught staring at your crush and not your long time partner. "Creep~" Your voice reaches him muffled through the water.

"Perv~" He teases you right back, eyes trained on you unabashedly now. "You're so pretty."

You lose your focus on floating, quickly fixing yourself upright. "Where'd that come from?"

"Just letting you know~" He hums as he closes his eyes again, blissful smile on his lips. "Love you is all."

"Shut up... Love you too."

ఌ

[edwardslvrr]

kook princess’ birthday smau!!!! does rafe make a post orrr does he ward off people commenting on your post or both?? maybeee he lets u make a tiktok with some cute trend and post it to both ur acc’s?

PRINCESS'S BIRTHDAY ☆ rafe cameron

✦　　　.　　princess's birthday and rafe cameron is not ashamed of spoiling his girl and showing her off to the world.

AUTHOR TALKING -> yess, rafe for SURE posts her on her birthday (well his account is basically a fanaccount for her) and he’s ALWAYSSS in her comments telling people off, mr possessive or wtv tate mcrae said😌

WARNING -> mention of making out and slight description (not too detailed)

𓂃⋆.˚ rafecameron’s new post

liked by yourname, topperthornton and 2918 others

rafecameron happy birthday to my girl, thank you for wanting to spend your years with me. you look beautiful always, like the most perfect woman ever and I’m so lucky to be able to call you mine which I hope lasts in every lifetime.

happy 23rd babe ❤️

view all comments

yourname rafey you’re making me cry, thank you for another year of spending my birthday with you I hope I can do this again with you every year and every lifetime. I love you💕

⤿ rafecameron my gorgeous girl

yourname the flowers are too beautiful, thank you

randomguy wowza

⤿ rafecameron leave before i pull your eyes out

yourname never getting over this and you

sarahcameron rafe never ever fumble her istg

⤿ rafecameron it would be the biggest mistake in my life

⤿ yourname 🥹

jjmaybank damn yn😍

⤿ rafecameron get the fuck out before i cut your balls off

randomguy69 i’d smash

⤿ rafecameron i’d smash your head into a walk if you dont leave

𓂃⋆.˚ yourname’s new post

liked by rafecameron, yourmom and 2183 others

yourname turning 23 with you has been the most beautiful experience, thank you rafe for making me feel this loved.

view all comments

yourmom such a beautiful dinner, well done rafe🥹💕

⤿ yourmom thank you for making my girl so happy

⤿ rafecameron always ma’am. she makes me the happiest

⤿ yourname thank you for being there momma 💛

rafecameron such a beautiful woman, can’t believe youre mine

rafecameron will love you in every lifetime

⤿ yourname 🥹🥹

kiaracarrera everything looks so perfect!!

sarahcameron rafe put a ring on it

yourexbf beautiful

⤿ rafecameron hope the door hits you on the way out

yourbestfriend gorgeous girl, had the best time!! make 23 the best one yet💕

⤿ yourname happy you were there, & i will (with you!!)

“Rafey!” she shouts through their apartment, as she’s sat on the couch scrolling through TikTok. A cute tiktok idea popped up on her for you page that she desperately wanted to do with Rafe and since it’s her birthday how could he say no.

The door of the living room opens and Rafe appears, wearing a tight Gymshark shirt, which made Yn stare for a second before Rafe clears his throat looking at her with a smirk. “What’s up baby? Or did you call me here to stare at me? Not that I mind.” He winks at her, as she blushes.

“No, shut up.” Yn shyly says, but quickly brings her attention back to her original plan. “I found this cute TikTok idea, can we please do it?!” she kindly asks her boyfriend, giving him a slight pout to try and convince him.

“Babe.” He sighs. “do we have to?”

“You get to make out with me.” Yn smirks, as she notices his expression change immediately.

“Should’ve led with that.” He straightens up, getting ready for whatever she was about to do.

“Okay, so, lemme put my phone here real quick.” Yn excitedly gets up from the couch, placing her phone against a stack of books that were placed on the table. “So, you have to start off-camera, and then once it starts you walk into frame and bump into me.”

“Then I, like, push you away and then you grab me and make out with me.” The girl explains quickly, while looking at Rafe lovingly.

Rafe nods. “Sounds perfect, baby. Turn it on.” He smiles, pressing a kiss on her temple while she gets the TikTok set up.

Once the 3-second timer starts, Rafe gets out of the frame and waits until his cue. The music starts and Rafe walks into frame bumping into Yn, she stares at him confused and pushes him.

He takes a step forward and puts one hand on her cheek and the other on her ass, and he presses his lips on hers— Softly squeezing her ass as he makes out with her, making her let out a soft moan.

After hearing the moan, he pulls away and smirks. “Think the TikTok is done, baby.” He chuckles at her blushing face, completely in a state of shock from what just happened.

“Yeah, TikTok’s done.” She breathes out, turning around to her phone as she feels Rafe smack her ass once more making her bite her lip.

“Post it, princess. On both accounts, let everyone see you’re my girl.” Rafe whispers in her ear.

𓂃⋆.˚ tiktok comments

146 comments

username the hand position 😏

username i love it when hot people date hot people

rafecameron love my gorgeous girl

⤿ yourname my man💕

username this was hot icl

username wrong website guys

username outer banks’s it couple

username booktok wya

username gonna go take a walk now

TAGLIST -> @inthelibrarybtw @bradshawed @laniirackssss

TAGLIST -> comment on this post to be added to my rafe cameron taglist

MAIN MASTERLIST -> click here to see more

[shesgaymichaelscott]

Lisa Ann Walter x Reader

(you're a pa/aspiring writer on Abbott and dating Lisa, Quinta reads a draft of your writing and the crew goes out to celebrate, followed by - jealous Lisa, top!reader, bottom!Lisa, smut [oral, ✂️], just gfs in love)

*this is one-shot/lil something from my longer fic, Innovation at Work 💕

Word Count: 2.8k

taglist <3: @writerspirit @schemmentigfs @myownworriedshoes

Friday night came fast, the kind of whirlwind week that deserved a proper sendoff—and the cast and crew delivered.

Janelle reserved a cozy little bar with a back patio strung in fairy lights, and the second you walked in, already hand-in-hand with Lisa, you were met with cheers, music, and a round of shots being lined up by Tyler like his life depended on it.

"TO THE BABY WRITER QUEEN!" he shouted, and the crew whooped in unison.

Chris slung an arm around you dramatically, drink already in hand. "Can you believe this one almost didn't send the script? That we almost got robbed of her brilliance because she spiraled like an overcaffeinated squirrel?"

You groaned, laughing, as Lisa smirked proudly beside you, sliding a possessive hand onto the small of your back. "Told you all she was a genius."

Sheryl raised her glass. "And I told you she was a menace in love and a damn joy to read. Cheers, baby girl."

The night unfolded beautifully.

Drinks were passed around like candy. Janelle made the DJ play Destiny's Child three times in a row. You danced with everyone—Chris twirled you dramatically, Tyler tried (and failed) to dip you, and even Sheryl dragged you into a goofy line dance that had half the bar laughing.

Lisa mostly watched from the edge of the dance floor at first—her drink in hand, her gaze locked on you with something warm and dangerous and hers. She looked stupidly good in black jeans and a half-unbuttoned shirt, curls wild from the humidity and her lip gloss long gone from the tequila.

You felt her watching. Every time you threw your head back laughing, every time you moved like the music had been made just for you.

And then—he happened.

Some guy. Mid-thirties. Not crew. Not familiar. Definitely not subtle.

He sidled up near you during a slower song, clearly buzzed, clearly impressed. "You were the one they were all cheering for earlier, right?"

You nodded, polite. "Yeah, kind of a big week."

"Writer, huh?" he said, stepping just a little too close. "You don't look like a writer."

You arched an eyebrow. "What do writers look like?"

"I don't know... less hot?"

You laughed awkwardly, but before you could find a way to backpedal, a familiar arm slid around your waist and tugged you back against a firm, warm body.

"Hi," Lisa said, smiling coolly but with enough underlying threat that the guy blinked. "I'm her girlfriend."

You glanced up—Lisa was all smirk and no chill. Her eyes sparkled, but her jaw was set, and her fingers flexed on your hip like she was reminding herself not to bite.

The guy coughed, awkward. "Oh. Cool. Didn't know. Sorry."

Lisa didn't answer. Just stared him down until he backed off, turned, and disappeared into the crowd.

You blinked up at her. "Someone's a little protective."

Lisa turned you around, her hands gripping your hips. "He was drooling."

You grinned. "He was harmless."

She leaned in, voice low and rough in your ear. "I don't care. You're mine. And if anyone's gonna flirt with you in public, it's gonna be me."

You shivered—delighted, a little dizzy, extremely turned on.

"Okay, possessive," you teased. "Wanna prove it?"

Lisa dragged you straight into the middle of the dance floor and didn't let you out of her arms for the rest of the night.

She danced with you like the bar wasn't packed, like the music was for you alone. Her hands on your hips, her lips brushing your temple, her thigh between yours, her voice low in your ear:

"Proud of you." "You're unreal." "Gonna love you until my bones forget how to hold me up."

You couldn't stop smiling. Couldn't stop touching her. Couldn't believe this was your life now—loved, seen, wanted, celebrated.

The music pulsed low and sultry now—some kind of smooth R&B slow-burn that wrapped itself around the room like smoke. You were pressed chest to chest with Lisa, her arms slung possessively around your waist, your hands lazily tangled behind her neck.

She was still watching the crowd like that guy might materialize again just so she could bury him.

You grinned and leaned in, lips brushing the shell of her ear.

"You got a little jealous," you whispered, all honey and heat.

Lisa's hands tightened instantly on your hips. "Nope."

You hummed. "Mm. I think you did."

She narrowed her eyes. "I just don't like people looking at what's mine."

You rocked your hips against hers slowly—casual, innocent, not innocent at all.

"I mean... he just said I was hot," you murmured, voice teasing. "You can't get mad every time someone agrees with you."

Lisa scoffed, but her jaw clenched. "It's the way he said it."

"Ohhh," you said, drawing the sound out like a dare. "So if someone says I'm hot respectfully, it's okay?"

Her hands slid lower, gripping your ass through your dress now, her eyes darkening.

"Try it and find out."

You laughed softly, nuzzling into her neck. "I don't want anyone else. I just like watching you get all territorial and hot."

Lisa's breath hitched.

"Oh, you like that," she muttered.

You nodded, trailing your lips up her neck, whispering, "I like the way your voice dropped. I like the way you stepped in like you were gonna bite. I like the way your hands haven't left my body since."

Lisa was breathing harder now, her hands no longer pretending to behave. She pulled you tighter against her, her mouth right at your ear now.

"You think I won't take you home right now and prove you're mine?"

You kissed her neck—slow, deliberate. "I hope you do."

Lisa growled—actually growled—and kissed you hard, right there on the dance floor, her fingers digging into your hips like she could memorize your shape through her palms.

Cheers went up somewhere behind you. Chris definitely yelled "GET IT, LISA!" but neither of you cared.

The world had narrowed. Just you, Lisa, heat, music, breath.

You pulled back just enough to say, breathlessly smug, "Still jealous?"

Lisa grinned, dangerous and full of want. "Not jealous," she whispered. "Just planning my revenge."

—

The second you slid into the backseat of the Uber, Lisa next to you, door barely closed behind her—you were on her again.

The driver was saying something polite, asking for her address, and Lisa rattled it off with perfect calm—on the outside. But you saw the flicker in her eyes when your hand slid up her thigh under the guise of getting comfortable.

"Good night?" the driver asked casually.

You leaned into Lisa's side and purred, "Oh, it's about to be."

Lisa shot you a look, half warning, half 'do not start something we can't finish.'

You just smiled innocently and settled your head on her shoulder, your hand not so innocently inching further between her legs.

She shifted slightly in her seat, biting the inside of her cheek, her breath catching. You trailed a single finger along the inner seam of her jeans, just barely touching, just enough.

"You were so jealous tonight," you whispered, lips brushing her ear.

Lisa exhaled sharply through her nose, her voice low. "You're playing a dangerous game."

"Am I?" You let your nails scratch lightly up her stomach, just under her shirt now, slow and teasing. "I just want to make sure you remember who I belong to."

She clenched her jaw. "Oh, I remember."

You pressed your lips to the underside of her jaw, kissing lightly as your hand drifted lower again. "Then prove it."

The rest of the ride passed in a blur of heat and tension and the barely audible sound of Lisa whispering "fuck" every time your fingers danced too close.

By the time the car pulled up in front of her house, she was flushed and tight-lipped, her hand gripping yours hard like she needed to keep herself grounded.

You thanked the driver sweetly—too sweetly—and pulled Lisa out of the car by the wrist, leading her to the door without a word. Her breathing was shallow. Her fingers twitchy.

Inside, the second the door clicked shut, Lisa turned to speak—

But you pushed her back gently against it and pressed your hand flat against her chest. Firm. Still.

"Strip," you said softly.

She blinked at you, lips parted. "Wha—"

You leaned in, mouth brushing hers but not kissing. "I want to watch you beg for it tonight."

Lisa sucked in a breath. "You're really doing this?"

You nodded, your hand drifting lower again, over her jeans, between her thighs. "Yeah, I am. And you want me to. I could feel it in the Uber. How wet you are right now? That's mine. And I want to hear it. Want to hear you ask."

Lisa shuddered, eyes fluttering closed for a second. "You're gonna kill me."

You grinned. "Maybe just ruin you a little."

She let out a ragged laugh, then pulled her shirt over her head—slowly now, teasing like she was accepting your challenge.

You stepped back and folded your arms, watching, every inch of your posture radiating control.

"Good girl," you murmured. "Now get on your knees."

She obeyed—slow, steady, her eyes locked on yours as she dropped.

And you smiled.

Lisa knelt in front of you like a storm barely contained, chest rising and falling, eyes locked onto yours with a need that made your spine buzz. Her hands curled against her thighs, thighs already trembling slightly—whether from anticipation or restraint, you couldn't tell.

You paced in front of her slowly, fingers tracing your own hips, letting the silence stretch long enough to make her ache for it.

"Look at you," you murmured. "All fire and bite in public, but down on your knees for me the second we're alone."

Lisa's breath hitched.

You crouched down to her level, one finger under her chin to tilt her face up.

"Tell me what you want."

Her voice cracked. "I want you."

"Not good enough," you whispered, your finger sliding down her throat, over her sternum, brushing just above the curve of her bra. "Be specific."

Lisa's lips parted, eyes fluttering closed for a moment before she gasped, "I want your hands. Your mouth. I want you to own me tonight."

You hummed, pleased, then leaned in and kissed her slow and deep, dragging your tongue along hers just to make her moan. When you pulled back, her lips were parted and wet, her body strung tight like a bow.

You stood and offered your hand.

"Come here."

She took it immediately, rising shakily, and you led her down the hallway with purpose. Her fingers tightened around yours with each step, like she needed to hold onto something real before she fully unraveled.

In the bedroom, you turned to face her, guiding her backward toward the bed.

"Lay down," you said gently—but firmly. "And spread those perfect legs for me."

Lisa swallowed, eyes locked on yours, and obeyed. She laid back against the pillows, hair wild around her, chest rising fast, thighs parting with slow, deliberate urgency.

You stood at the foot of the bed for a beat, just taking her in.

"Fuck," you whispered, eyes roaming over her. "You have no idea what you do to me."

She arched slightly, reaching for you.

You climbed onto the bed, hovering over her now, mouth trailing down her neck, over her collarbone, across the swell of her chest. Your hands gripped her thighs as you kissed lower, teasing, just brushing where she wanted you most—again and again.

Lisa whimpered, fingers fisting the sheets.

You grinned against her skin. "Not yet."

Her voice was already wrecked. "Please..."

"Say it again."

"Please," she gasped. "I need you."

You smiled against her inner thigh, lips just grazing the skin, your breath hot as she trembled beneath you.

Her voice broke again. "Please... I want your mouth. I need it. Please, baby."

That was all you needed.

You didn't tease anymore.

You kissed your way between her legs, slow and reverent, and the second your tongue touched her, Lisa gasped—loud, unfiltered, her hips bucking up like her body had been waiting centuries for this.

You moaned softly against her, gripping her thighs to steady her as you worked—slow, purposeful, deliberate strokes, like you were writing love letters she'd feel for days.

Her hands shot into your hair, not pulling, just holding—like you were her anchor.

You felt her unraveling fast, her hips grinding gently, her moans spilling out in broken pieces.

"God—baby—fuck, just like that... you feel so, so good, don't stop—don't stop..."

She was babbling now, her voice soaked in desperation and praise.

"I love when you—shit—when you eat me like this—your mouth—your mouth is everything—please, let me come, I wanna come for you..."

You pulled her closer, lips and tongue working her exactly the way she needed—slow and deep, then fast and firm, following every twitch of her body like a map only you could read.

She was falling apart in your hands, her thighs shaking, breath hitching.

And when she broke—when she came for you—it was with your name on her lips and her body arched like a prayer.

You held her through it, softening your rhythm, kissing her through the aftershocks, letting her ride every last wave until she collapsed back against the pillows, flushed and panting, her chest heaving.

When you looked up at her—face flushed, hair stuck to her temples, eyes glassy—she looked absolutely wrecked.

And utterly beautiful.

Lisa was still catching her breath, her body warm and trembling beneath you, lips parted like she couldn't believe the things you'd just pulled from her. Her eyes fluttered open, dazed and dark and yours.

You climbed up, slow and deliberate, your legs sliding to either side of her waist as you settled above her—chest heaving, sweat-slicked, starving for more.

Lisa let out a shaky breath, eyes raking over you. "What are you doing?"

You didn't answer.

You gripped her thigh and pushed it open, dragging it just where you needed it—slow, controlling, possessive. Her breath hitched when she felt your heat against hers, your soaked skin sliding against her.

You ground down, and her hands shot to your hips with a gasp.

"You—fuck, baby," she choked out.

The friction was immediate, intense, dizzying. You started slow—circling your hips in deep, rolling motions, your hands planted firmly on her chest, owning the pace. Lisa's nails bit into your skin, and you welcomed it.

The pressure, the rhythm, the slick heat of it—your bodies meeting, sliding, catching on every stroke—it had your head spinning.

You leaned down, lips at her ear, voice wrecked and low.

"You feel that?" you whispered, grinding harder, dragging a moan from deep in your chest. "That's me making you mine."

Lisa whimpered, her eyes locked on you like you were holy.

"You make me crazy," you panted. "The way you look at me. The way you take me. God, Lisa—this body—" your hand trailed down her stomach, gripping her thigh again, holding her exactly where you needed, "—it's made for me."

She gasped, legs trembling. "I'm yours—fuck, baby—I am."

You grinned, breath ragged. "Say it again."

"I'm yours," she cried. "I'm yours, I'm always yours."

The room filled with the wet, desperate sound of skin on skin, your breathy cries, her helpless moans—dirty, broken, honest.

You moved faster now, hips snapping in hard, focused circles, chasing the high for both of you.

"Come with me," you panted, voice wrecked. "I want to feel you fall apart on me. I want to hear how loud I make you."

Lisa cried out, hands gripping you like she was clinging to salvation.

"I'm gonna come on you, baby. You—fuck, Lis—you're so fucking sexy."

"Oh, god—" she whines as you grind your clit onto hers just right.

You were close, so close, thighs burning, every nerve alight with her—her body, her voice, her love.

And when you both came, it was chaos. Loud. Messy. Overwhelming. Real.

You collapsed on top of her, bodies slick and tangled, your heart pounding against hers like it was trying to live there permanently.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. Just breath and skin and the soft sound of your lips brushing hers again and again.

"I love you," you whispered finally.

Lisa cradled your face and kissed you like a promise.

"I love you more."

[und3ramshood]

could I have a gen fic for the headcanon of jason & damian knowing eachother in the league?

—Jason making Damian mini helmet prototypes to match with him—

Okay bear with me here.

So you know how people sometimes match with their pets/babies? Like those mini cute matching hats or glasses? Well imagine Jason who’s still in the league figuring himself out going through the process of creating the “Red Hood” persona, helmet, gear, all that. Imagine he has tons of ideas and helmets that he tries (like think of hiccup in httyd making toothless’s tail flap a bunch of different times, or Tony Stark making the iron man suit.)

Anyways so Jason has a workshop at this point where he spends most of his time crafting helmets (side note imagine Jason in wielding gear.) Little brother Damian as curious as a cat ends up spending his time with his older brother sitting on the crafting tables, his little legs swinging off the edges as he watches Jason with wide green eyes.

Jason notices the mesmerised look on the kid’s face every time he tries on a new prototype design and as a surprise makes a mini version the next day. Dami plays it cool best he can but is absolutely beaming to match with Jason!

Jason includes Dami in absolutely everything even if it takes him extra time to create those mini helmets, he thinks the look on Damian’s face is worth it.

So as progress goes along Damian actually becomes a big influence on designing and putting impute on the infamous Red Hood look. The gear, the Bat symbol, The helmet. Damian was definitely the one who thought of putting a drinking straw inside Jasons helmet.

Jason made sure to make Dami mini helmets that were more like a costumes rather than practical for every single design.

Damian secretly trains in them sometimes as he pretends to be Jason -he even has his own Jason impressions with the edgy voice and everything.

Fast forward years later where they’re living in the manor instead of the league —Jason thought all those scraps and mini helmets he made for Damian were long gone and thrown away in a box that was probably labelled “childhood crap” but instead when snooping in Damians room for something he finds each mini helmet —that definitely doesn’t fit his brother anymore— on a shelf displayed like trophies.

Damian will never know but that made Jason’s day.

His next birthday Damian finds a gift on his bed from Jason. A navy blue box with a red bow. Damian opens the box only to find a new red hood helmet that would actually still fit him along with a card that says “- one more for the collection. Happy birthday, Dami Babi. -from: JT.”

I ACTUALLY KINDA LOVE THIS IDEA THANKING MY CAT WHO GAVE ME THE INSPIRATION💝💕

[bernalswifeyy]

Behind the lockscreen

summary: Marc Bernal's and reader's relationship hangs by a thread from an innocent lockscreen leak..

pairing: Marc Bernal x reader

warnings: secret relationship

a/n: i need him

It was supposed to be a quick stroll—nothing fancy, just you, oversized sunglasses, a cappuccino, and the warm Barcelona sun kissing your skin. The kind of simple outing you’d longed for ever since your modeling career had exploded in the last six months.

But simplicity didn’t exist when you were famous.

You barely heard the camera shutters. Just a murmur—like bees humming in the distance—before you caught sight of the paparazzi standing across the street. You didn’t flinch, didn’t run. You smiled softly, the way you’d been trained to. But what you didn’t realize was that as you adjusted your phone in your hand, the screen had lit up.

And on it?

The lock screen wallpaper: a candid Polaroid of you and Marc Bernal, curled up in his childhood bedroom, both in hoodies, laughing at something on his laptop. The photo had been taken late one night during the off-season, the flash catching the curve of your smile and the sleep-mussed strands of Marc’s hair.

It was soft. Private. Real.

And now?

It was in every tabloid.

---

The next day, you sat in the plush chair of a sleek, modern studio, the lights hot on your skin. You wore a designer two-piece, your lips glossed to perfection, though your nerves flickered like static underneath your poised exterior.Your interviewer, a woman known for her charming but relentless style, crossed one leg over the other, glancing at the cue card. Then she looked up and smiled knowingly.

“So, Y/N... you’ve been killing it on runways and magazine covers lately. But let’s talk about the real headline today.” She tilted her head. “That absolutely adorable lock screen that’s been making rounds since yesterday.”

You let out a soft laugh, low and controlled. “Ah, yeah. I saw that.”

“Mhm. So… do tell. Is that your boyfriend? He looked suspiciously like someone who wears Barça colors on the weekends.”

Your heart thumped against your ribcage. You leaned forward slightly, playing coy.

“Look,” you said, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I think everyone’s entitled to some private moments—even people in the public eye. That picture was from a really chill day with someone who means a lot to me.”

“Someone like... Marc Bernal?”

You smiled, measured. “Someone like that,” you repeated, carefully. “We’re both young, and we’re figuring out life in the spotlight. I think it’s important to keep certain things sacred. You know?”

She arched an eyebrow. “So you’re not denying it.”

You gave her a wink. “I’m not confirming it either.”

The audience chuckled. The interviewer leaned back, half-satisfied.

But inside, your heart ached with the weight of keeping it all hidden — the late-night FaceTime calls after away games, the secret rendezvous in tucked-away cafés, the feel of his hand squeezing yours under the table during private dinners. The quiet, unfiltered love you shared when the cameras weren’t watching.

After the interview, your phone buzzed with a text from Marc.

El amor de mi vida💕: You handled that like a pro. Proud of you, hermosa. Also... you’re my lockscreen too. Just saying

You smiled at the message, your fingers typing a reply.

You: Let’s hope no one catches yours, or we’re done for😭

El amor de mi vida 💕: I wouldn’t mind if they did.

You: I would. You’re mine, not theirs.

El amor de mi vida💕: Always yours. No matter what. Te quiero, bebé

You leaned back in the car, phone pressed to your chest, and whispered his name under your breath. Fame was a spotlight—but love? Love was the glow behind it. And that glow, at least for now, belonged only to the two of you.

translation:

• el amor de mi vida - the love of my life

• bebé - baby

• hermosa - beautiful

a/n (again): let me know if y'all want a part two because i have it written already!!

taglist: @universefcb (lmk if you wanna be in it!!)

[mingismuncher]

~ || Dancin' for diamonds 💕💋 2 || ~ S.M.G

Dom!Mingi, stripper!femreader

Content warning 🚫: Prostitution, unprotected s3x (don't be dumb.), cream pie, multiple rounds, oral/blowjob m!receiving, cuffing, pet names for m and f (baby, daddy, good girl) heavy swearing. I guess

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

English is my first language, I'm just dumb so pls ignore misspelled words 💘💐

I kinda suck at writing actual sex scenes so there is a LINK +18 BEWARE

First and Second person POV 🌺

Nothing else! Enjoy!! 💋

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

PREVIOUSLY:

"The...the blowjob was only $50" Y/n says confused

"I know, I want something else from you, I wanna fuck." Mingi says with a slight smirk, looking up at her, his legs still spread and pants still off.

💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘

CHAPTER 2: Best I've ever had

"Uhm...well-...you kinda have to make a reservation for additional time and service unless I'm available." She says calmly, her tone mono but with a hint of interest

I wish I was, but bitch I'm usually busy as hell...she thinks to herself

"C'mon...30 minutes, MAX, you don't have a 30 minute window?" Mingi asks with a playful expression, looking into her eyes

"I-...well...I can check if i...do...one sec" I say as I dart my thirsty ass out of the private room, wobbling in my heels making my way to the front desk

"LAURA AM I AVAILABLE FOR AT LEAST 30 MINUTES?!" I ask one of my work friends/receptionist in a hurry

"uhmm let me check" she says, clicking random buttons on the computer "actually some dude, well, Y'know, Brandon, the one with the wife? Yeah he cancelled last minute, he told me to tell you that its him and his wife's anniversary tonight" she says with a small smirk on her face

"Thank goodness for that cheating asshole because the FINEST man I have EVER seen wants to fuck me...I'm at a lost for words like I'm honestly a little nervous to go back in there because... His eyes...they're intimidating but attractive and his lips are a pretty pink and-"

She cut her off

"Girl I LOVE that for you, but I really don't have time to hear you describe your dream fuck..." Laura says, eating a chip

"Please choke on a chip." You say playfully

"Beats choking on a dick!" She jokes back

"Whatever" you say as you walk back to the room, trying to gain that chill, laid back attitude once more

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You make it into the room, closing the door behind you

"So uh...where do we start?" She asks a little nervously

He looks around the room, looking at the bed and floor, along with the couch he's sitting on

"Let's see how long I can lift you up" he says teasingly, standing up, his pants still down, as he makes his way to her, picking her up easily and pushing her against the wall

You hit the wall with a small gasp as you feel the coldness touch your back. He breathes on your neck as he makes his way to your ear and whispers "Relax..." Before licking your ear and making his way down to your collar bones.

He made love to my neck and breast for what felt like hours

Holy fuckin shit. I usually and rightfully so HATE being licked by strangers but goodness it felt amazing coming from him. It was like his tongue was made out of a soft fabric the way it caressed my neck and collar bones so gently and the way he-

"Y/n??" He calls out

"huh?!" I say confused as he stops kissing and licking my body

"Get on the bed..."

I IMMEDIATELY walk my thirsty ass to the bed, ready and waiting. He makes his way over, crawling onto me and looking at me as if I'm some meat skewer, like wtf, but its so hot honestly. I snake my hands and arms to his back and wrapped my legs around his waist while he grinds on me slowly and starts kissing and licking me again...

It felt...good...A little too good.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I'm usually a quiet person with strangers but this was different, it was impossible not to make some type of sound, my arousal was just too strong.

He pulls my leg higher as he grinds a little more, making sure I feel his boner and it's working, I move my body with his, matching his rhythm and pace and I take his tongue with mine.

He breaks the kiss, fully removing his pants and pulling off my expensive ass lingerie that I waited weeks for to come in the mail but its FINE, not really but, I'm sure this fuck will make it all worth it.

After what feels like an eternity of teasing he finally puts it in and oh my goodness, I don't know if its because I haven't been fucked in what felt like forever or if it was because his dick is ACTUALLY huge...

"...slowly..." I pant out as he starts thrusting in and out

"Are you a virgin? You're hella tight" he says looking down

"Uh no I just... Its been a while" I say awkwardly

Number one rule in this business is to NEVER gas up the men, their ego is not worth your pride or time, I promise you, no mans dick is ever as big as his ego.

He just chuckles and nods. After a few moments of slow thrusting he starts moving faster, hiking my leg up onto his broad shoulder and gripping my waist. I've never felt this good before...I know (WE'RE) delusional but this was the vest fuck I've had ever.

He continues thrusting at a tolerable pace, going from gripping my waist and gripping my throat.

"Turn over on all fours..." He pants out, waiting for me to turn on all fours. I turn on all fours, waiting for him to make his way into my entrance but he takes his time to put a pillow on my stomach for support, what a gentleman, anyways, he enters me slowly, thrusting like he has all damn day, gripping my hip with one hand and spanking me with the other

"Faster..." I moan out softly

Oh fuckin snap, did I just ASK for something?! I'm seriously losing the plot...

"Faster?" He asks for clarity and I nod. Why was that so fucking hot though?!?

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

😉:

Mingi pushes her head down into a pillow as he starts fucking her from behind, his tall, muscular body pounding into hers like he had something prove.

I was levitating... It was like I was being rewarded for doing absolutely nothing. And for the first time EVER, I had an orgasm by a dude I'm doing a service for.

He pulls out immediately as I cum, cumming on my back and ass cheek with a grunt and lays down next to me

For what felt like hours we laid in silence, catching our breaths and calming down the adrenaline we both felt from that intense session.

He stands up, putting his boxers back on, and pulling his pants up

"Uh, thank you for the service, keep it up." He says whilst putting on his shirt.

"Um yeah...mhm..." I say quietly, still in bed, my body covered by the blanket, eyeing him as he walks out of the room.

Shit...that was something... A little too much for me honestly but I liked it, alot.

I quickly get dressed and head out of the private room, shutting off the lights and closing the door, walking back to my locker, collecting my money back and keys before heading home.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I make it to my apartment and immediately take a shower, washing all of the lust and cum off my body as I start to think about what happened about 30 minutes ago.

Once I'm done drying off I slip into some panties and an oversized t-shirt before hopping into bed and getting on my phone... It's 10:37 PM.

I get back up and make myself something quick to eat, also bringing a bag a chips with me because this bitch likes to eat, tf...and I get back in my comfy bed and start watching my favorite show (your choice). About 10 minutes into the show, my phone goes off, its a text from my friend Gia.

"Y/n, I'm going on this double date with this guy and his friend but the problem is...I need a double. You down?"

Now why the fuck would she ask ME of all people

"Well when is it? I work tomorrow until 8."

"It's at 10:30" she replies back

I fucking bet it is , I think to myself

"I mean...I guess??"

"Good! Ty!! I'll text you details tomorrow evening"

"K" I respond, shutting off my phone and finishing my food before putting my chips away and placing my dish in the sink.

I tried to finish my show but honestly I'm way too fucked out...so I turn off my lamp and try to sleep.

I think to myself as I fall asleep.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

That is the end of a VERY long chapter 2!!

Sorry I missed so much for so long, ngl I forgot I had Tumblr 😂, let alone that I even posted anything. If you made it all the way through, tysm! And ily bitch 💘. I'll try my hardest to get better at WRITING actually smut if you want but if you like me adding videos ill gladly do so 💋 as before, lmk if you want a Chapter 3 and if I should change anything!!

xo, mingismuncher 👅❤

[catamount7755]

Thoughts on the new episode??

I JUST FINISHED IT OMG IT WAS SOO GOOODDD ‼️‼️‼️💥💥💥💥💥 I'm going to list my thoughts under the cut!!!

SPOILERS FOR DIGITAL CIRCUS EP 5 BELOW (you asked for thoughts and by god you're gonna get'em)

Okay there is a lot to unpack here so I'm going in order of the adventures!

Poacher's Paradise:

1. Jax being feral absolutely killed me, YES BOY REJECT YOUR HUMANITY

2. Love the Gangle rhino design :^] very creative

President Pomni:

1. JAX STOP TALKING TO THE CAMERA !!!

2. Kinger where did you get that baby head..also your favorite color is,, black?? Blue?

3. Gangle sweetie your doing amazing 💕 shes such a good actress

Slice of Life:

1. WHAT A DELIGHTFUL SUPRISE

2. Everyone looks so adorable in their school outfits!! Gangle especially, also Kinger as the teacher !! Just,, so much fun!

3. Zooble backing up Gangle that's right! get that rabbit's ass!

Stargazing:

1. Jax letting his wall down for pomni and asking if gangle could be happy? Does he want her to be happy? Does he think he's helping her become tougher by bullying her? (He says she likes when he's mean to her like he *knows* that)

2. Jax *had* a friend, and now he doesn't. Ragatha saying this tells us so much and yet so little. It seems either someone Jax was close with abstracted, or that Jax was being so unpleasant that it drove someone away (and then to possible abstraction).

3. Ragatha girl I love you so much, I'm begging you to learn how to communicate negative emotions so you're not saying shit that drives Jax further away.

4. We hate to see Jax and Pomni bonding// joking

5. Jax had a tail at one point and,, lost it??? Where did it go??

[THE INTERMISSION WAS SPECTACULAR]

Cocktail Bar:

1. Zooble bartender real omg they're so me fr I love mixology!! zooble can we hang, I'll give you my number (platonically)

2. As far as occupations go- ""Youtuber"" pomni did catch me off guard, and I didn't expect realtor ragatha either. Also ragatha I understand you <<<has not seen breaking bad

3. Ragatha apology to Gangle ‼️ Poor thing, I'd be so embarrassed if I said dumb shit while crossfaded. Gangle's smile of reassurance to Ragatha made me scream (<positive) they do not hate each other ‼️

4. Jax what is your deal with corn. I have to know what is wrong with this guy

Softball Game: OH BOY HERE WE GO

1. I am so in love with any screen time the evil clones have. I have nothing more to say I just love them so much.

2. Interesting that this is Ragatha's suggestion, her berating herself when she fumbles her turn leads me to beleive this is something she really trained at when she was younger. I get the feeling those are more her mother's words than her own...

3. I AM DISSAPPEARING GUY'S BIGGEST FAN

4. Zooble trying to rile Jax up by having gangle suggest the maid outfit was foul 😭 It realllyy got under his skin, which seems like something that hasn't really happened yet.

5. Ragatha who hurt you (we know now) to make you think you have to be positive 24/7, girlie thinks she can't even lightly vent about a rough game without apologizing...

6. Jax and Ragatha fighting over their influence on pomni is giving divorced couple fighting over being a role model for their kid

7. Ragatha's batting advice helping gangle hit a home run after Jax implies that he expects her to fail 💕

8. Ragatha's expression when pomni approaches her 💕 she is fearing for her life that pomni hates her now but Pomni giving her turn to ragatha is sooo sweet of her 💕

9. There is such weird vibes for when ragatha receives praise for something she didn't even do... why did that feel so strange to me.

10. Ouguhhh pomni laughing at Jax ripping his clone apart,, ragatha catching her and realizing that pomni is warming up to him,,

11. Oh Dr. Football,,who are you.. what do you want from me...

[boopshoops]

I got Amai!!!!

I LOVE COTTEN CANDY THEMED DESIGNS THIS IS SO CUTE and also very very sweet of you to do lulu!!! Im sure it took tons of time! Thank you sososo much 🥺🥺💕💕💕💕

LOOK AT MY BABY

THE EARRINGS HAT RIBBON EVERYTHING IS SO CLEVER AAAA!!! 💕💕💕

Welcome to Lulu’s Bakery

What sweet treat did you get?

(Screenshot too see what dessert you got~)

only took a month but it’s done!! A little gift too all my moots!! Thank you to everyone who gave me a dessert they associated their ocs with, to those who weren’t able to I tried to give everyone a dessert that either match their ocs personality or style!!

Individual chibis here!

The menu:

Yuu shi: Sour Cherries | @boopshoops

Ellis: Strawberry Cake | @starry-night-rose

Taru: Blueberry Cheesecake | @taruruchi

Shuu: Pudding | @oya-oya-okay

Yuya: Lemons Cheesecake | @cheerleaderman

Yuusha: Dark Chocolate Roll Cake | @crystallizsch

Finn: Chocolate Mousse | @thehollowwriter

Hopper: Strawberry Tart | @amatsuchan-eiliniel

Piper: Honey Cakes | @stephiethewephie

Kiyuu: Cream Puffs | @skriblee-ksk

Isa: Apple Pie | @skibidibabygirl

Lysander: Strawberry Crepe | @offorestsongs

Siyun: Cookies N Cream Ice cream | @sunsmilu

Albert: Green Tea Mochi | @the-trinket-witch

Yumi: Covered Strawberries | @jadelover69

Alice-630: Strawberry Cream Blend Boba | @sinjaangels

Obi: Blue Raspberry Sour Strips | @kimikitti

Gia: Spicy Candy Apples: @ramshacklerumble

Yuliya: Carrot Cake | @valse-a-mille-temps

Ryoko: Mint Chocolate Ice cream | @kathxrat-01

Sophie: Cinnamon Rolls | @gl00myb3arz

Evelyn: Lavender Macron | @h0neybane

Oz: Moon Cake | @viperbunnies

Renè: Affogato | @tixdixl

Amai: Cotton Candy | @amai-sakura-chan

Yuubeni: Strawberry Milkshake | @bunniehunn

Yuuki: French Toast | @theolivetree123

Allen: Coffee Jelly | @raguiras

[missmetus]

Chibi designs for my precious Babies 💕💕💕💕💕💕✨✨

Stickers are available on Redbubble

[nibbelraz]

Svsssaction prompt for @harpieisthecarpie!

Thank you so much for donating! I hope you enjoy!!!

Shang Qinghua adopting every dangerous beast he meets, all while Mobei Jun refusing to acknowledge them before succumbing and loving all his babies 💖

[ikram1909]

Gavi getting mad really is this club's favourite source of entertainment 😭😭

[emry-stars-oc]

Now that mermay is over. I have more mermay content. Much thanks to my buddy silvermasquerade who I wanted to talk about a mermaid au with (specifically their twin oc girlies who feature heavily here) and who had a hundred good ideas because now I’m terminally obsessed

So what if there were merfolk dolphins and they lived in an aquarium that does shows and stuff and most of them have an assigned human “handler” to help manage things and maybe to perform with. I think the merfolk are mostly like rescues or relocations?? At any rate the current set up of humans they work with are largely tolerable and even likeable so that’s a plus 🙏 and yes I’m unlearning embarrassment so you get to see my whole sketchbook layouts

(In this specific au the list of names and animals on the top left (above) are the merms, the right side list is the reverse timeline but we’ll get to that later)

Anyway I’ll put some ‘who’s who’ + rambles under the cut, for now @silvermasquerade GET OVER HERE I HAVE YOUR CHILDREN AND SECRET OTHER ART

Ok so. The merfolk are: silvermasquerade’s girls Adaline and Alyssa, the two black haired dusky dolphins

Alyssa (ponytail)’s human is Bo, Adaline won’t take an assigned handler but if she needs an assistant for her performances she’ll borrow someone (usually also Bo). They’re beautiful and so much fun to play dolls with and I love them. I also love forcing Bo and Alyssa to get through the initial absolute refusal to cooperate bc once they figure each other out they are so funny to me

(The rest of these aren’t going to have pics accompanying them because I’m hitting image limit smh)

My contributions to the merms are Quinton, the spotted dolphin who’s (current) human is a yet un-designed and completely un-introduced dude named Rhydian (annoying, sometimes pretends that the merfolk aren’t as sentient as they are bc it’s ‘convenient for him’). Luckily I’m thinking Q eventually gets put with Kallistos instead, who’s one of his besties in canon. He’s also mercilessly, lovingly teased for not being overly subtle by merfolk standards with how intrigued he is by Alyssa’s handler

Estes, a nondescript seal who doesn’t perform atm but ended up taking to one of the employees (Lolo) who was therefore given defacto responsibility of Estes bc she’s so snappy with anyone else. Lolo also happens to be someone that frequently helps train new employees so when Taorna is hired, he also accidentally gets on Estes’ good side. Oops 💕

Mercer, the unreasonably large orca that was brought in who also doesn’t yet perform because they have no one to work with him on it. He’s not quite built for the elegant types of shows they put on anyway, if they ever do a pirate drama he’d make a great sea monster tho.

And Liana, the common dolphin with the yellow ribbon in her hair. Her handler is Ambrose (eyepatch guy) which means she’s almost immediately teased/razzed by the other merfolk for how well the two of them get along. “He’s handsome and kind and -“ “girl please. he’s a HUMAN” but you best believe they are the media darlings and look so cute in their matching costumes

One day I’ll draw them with their humans bc you absolutely have not seen the last of them, I’m obsessed almost to the point of concern, I also need to figure out how to get Betony in here fr. If you thought Mercer towered over them before oh boy