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lightningandfireinmybones · 1 year

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Good morning beautiful 💕

I would like to request a drabble with drunk Valaena aka “would u still love me if i were a worm”🥹😅

lmfao pls never mind if it’s silly, hope you’re having a good day

GOOD MORNING TO THIS PROMPT AND THIS PROMPT ONLY

“Please get in bed,” Aemond sighs, pulling back the covers of the duvet for his tipsy wife.

Valaena, wearing his biggest shirt and curled into a ball in the closet, pouts at him. He swears here and now that the next time Helaena and Valaena drink together, he’s getting rid of their peach schnapps. As adorable as this giggly drunk Valaena is, getting water into her, getting her up the stairs, face washed and teeth brushed, and into something that resembled pajamas had like trying to herd cats. She just wanted to giggle and admire the way the light reflected off his rings, braid little pieces of his hair and tell him he was pretty.

Which, altogether, he didn’t mind, but her motions were starting to slow, eyes blinking syrupy slow at him as she hid her knees under the hem of his shirt. The giggly portion of the intoxication was fading into sleepiness, and he wanted her safe and comfortable in bed when that transition was completed.

“Carry me?” Valaena holds up her hands, still slurring slightly, scrunching her hands at him like a toddler asking to be picked up.

Fighting a smile and physically incapable of denying her anything when her eyes were that big and innocent, Aemond acquiesces, crouching down to carry pick her up. She clings to him, legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder.

“Aemond?” She mutters into his bare skin after she burrows her face past the collar of his shirt.

“Valaena?” Aemond mimics with affection.

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?” Her voice is muffled, but Aemond hears it clearly enough and has to swallow his laugh.

He tucks her into bed, following her down onto the mattress when she refuses to relinquish her hold on his neck. Rolling carefully, he tucks her into his chest, making sure she’s on her side.

She’s pouting at him again, lower lip sticking out just the tiniest amount, eyes round and eyebrows raised. The lavender of her eyes is glazed over from the alcohol, but he can see the pleading in them, mirrored in the way her fingers curl into the front of his shirt, holding on in rapture for his answer.

“I would build you the best worm terrarium in the world,” he indulges her, pressing a gentle kiss into the crown of her head.

The smile that breaks across her face is worth the absurdity of the thought. “And you’d carry me around in your pocket?”

He’s not sure how she got pocket travel from a world-class terrarium, but if that’s what she wants, that’s what he’ll give her.

“Can’t leave my worm wife behind, can I?” This time, some of the laughter bleeds into his voice, but she doesn’t seem to mind, sighing contentedly.

“I knew you loved me,” she murmurs triumphantly, even as her lids are flickering closed.

“Valaena, I would love you even if you were a worm or an amoeba or a fungi or whatever the fuck else you’re going to ask me about,” Aemond kisses her head again, but she’s already asleep, lips parted slightly, fingers still curled in his shirt as if to keep him there.

He hopes Rhaena is getting the exact same question from an equally giggly Helaena.

#I feel soft in this chilis tonight #not silly at all anon this was SO FUN #i love giggly drunk valaena #and long suffering aemond taking care of his drunk wife #10/10 prompt #ask #tdopom fic

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lunarpanda · 11 months

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Choromatsu muffin top

#Mika shushup #Thinking about it in this chili's tonight...#Soft and squishy...#And he should be proud of it!#A nice pillow to lay on #I wanna kiss it I wanna smooch it #Make him feel better about it because it is just so cute<333

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freakurodani · 1 year

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okay i do wanna flex!!! but one of my coworkers said my spanish is getting really good and that she likes how i speak it and that i sound pretty when i speak it and she said all of that in spanish and i understood all of it and it just made me feel very sparkly on the inside hehehe also my other coworker started calling me "mi vida" 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

#im gonna keep practicing!!!!! and im gonna make them so proud!!!!!!#conspiracy lvl: text #feeling soft in this chilis tonight lads

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foxxsnacks · 2 years

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After being trapped in the Grimold for god knows how long + ten years you know Maxim is so hungry.

Of course, he has more important matters to deal with. His stomach can wait.

MHMMMMM god. He's trying to go about his business and take down the Merlinians, but... it's difficult to focus when his stomach is making so much noise.

So, his best solution is to just give it something to keep it occupied until he can get some actual food... well, you might be the unlucky someone he chose to fill that empty space.

#asks #foxx answers #vore talk #anonymous #soft vore #willing pred #unwilling prey #open ended vore #GOD we are feeling these asks in this Chili's tonight

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timebranded · 2 years

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((I’m making an effort to reply to everyone that’s doing the heart meme, but just in case I miss anyone I just want you all to know that you are all super talented and wonderful people! And I love having you all on my dash (Lucas’ dash? Hilbert’s dash? YES.).))

#a step out of time (ooc)#((I hug all of you. Or send you pillows if you don't do hugs.))#((I'm feeling soft and warm like mash potatoes in this chilis tonight))

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luveline · 1 month

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jade my heart I’m really feeling Peter parker tonight in this chilis. maybe just Pete listening to r go on about something she likes? Like a book or a tv show and he’s just listening but also so obsessed with her and thinks she’s adorable? I love u! 🫶🏻

ily ty for requesting <3 fem

“It’s a prequel, you know?”

Peter feels fondness for you pretty much every second of the day, but the way you’re asking without looking at him, and the way you’re laying across his lap so unbothered, he finds himself grinning like a mad man. “I did not know that,” he says.

You nod up and down with a severe sort of look about you, as though this is of the utmost importance. If Peter doesn’t get on the same page as you soon, he’s not gonna make it. “I can’t believe you’ve never seen the first trilogy. Like, I like you so much, but where the hell have you been?”

“Where have I been?” he wonders.

“Anyways, that’s not the point, sorry. They’re complicated movies. You’d like them, though. Next time I’ll bring my DVD’s and we can watch them, if you want to, you’ll really like them, or you’ll really like Natalie Portman, at least. She’s beautiful. And her character is so… complicated, I guess, she’s doomed from the beginning of the narrative and she’s the catalyst for so much but she’s also just… sorry, I’m being totally boring.”

“Says who?”

Doesn’t take much more than that to get you rolling again, you want to tell him that badly, “I don’t wanna spoil it anymore because I really think you’ll love them if you watch them, but you’re gonna need to watch the first trilogy to get the emotional impact, and you’ll love them, don’t worry.”

“I’ll love them,” he agrees, attempting to lean down for a kiss.

“Wait, is this a shut me up kiss?” you whisper.

Peter shakes his head as he kisses you, serving for a wobbly but soft press of your lips to his. “Never. Tell me everything about it.”

You talk until you’re hoarse, literally hoarse, and Peter has to make you a cup of water. His cheeks are hurting from smiling at you. You’ve never looked this cute, not once, not even when he took you to Coney Island and you screamed the house down on all the rides.

“I think we better go and get those DVDs,” he says.

“It’s dark out,” you say.

“We’ll swing.”

“Isn’t that against your code of ethics?” You sip your drink, pointing at him. “We’ll hear someone who needs help on the way and you’ll drop my extended editions to save them.”

“I won’t drop anything,” he says. “Come on! Come on, if you’re this excited just talking about it I wanna see how pretty you are when we’re actually watching the movies.”

You press your smile into a line. “You’re not just humouring me?”

“I could listen to you talk for hours, baby, but you sound like you did the second time we got off of The Cyclone.”

You do a spinning, meandering dance into his arms. “If you insist.”

Your feigned reluctance is adorable. He grabs you in both hands for another misaligned kiss.

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fraugwinska · 24 days

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Could you do a backstory to Hard Day? Like, how Al decided to give up control, and the first time it happened 🥺🙏

Ummm... well, I may have gotten myself a bit lost in this one :D Idk, It's gotten quite out of hand, 2,5 k words... but...um yeah :D Praying you like it :> Attention - we cook with Chili, not salt today! (MDNI)

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

The hardest Day

„That's so unrealistic! I mean, in what world would a lion eat bugs instead of the fucking fat juicy PIG?!“

„It's a kids movie, asshole, shut up!“

The gang was sprawled out in front of the TV, blankets and popcorn everywhere. Charlie got her hands on a rare copy of 'The Lion King', and invited everyone to a 'nice, unproblematic, quiet' movie night. She didn't account for Angel's constant commentary, Husk's annoyed retorts to him or Niffty's gleeful giggling at the most unfitting scenes. Vaggie, frustrated by them, started adding to the chaos, sending scolding remarks in intervals at either of them, while Charlie tried to mediate in between songs – which she always sang along with.

You, however, were highly entertained – even though you didn't catch anything from the movie, just watching them was amusing enough. The only one missing was Alastor, who had 'business to attend' and was gone since breakfast ended.

He would've hated it anyway, you knew he had no interest in movies, let alone modern ones, and group activities like these were often straining on his patience. Although getting in the hotel last, you were the one who grew the closest to him. Why? You couldn't say definitively. Maybe it was because you never took his veiled jabs by heart. Maybe because you didn't treat him the way the others wanted you to – with care, with ignorance, with suspicion; but instead with respect, an open mind and without judgment. Maybe it was because you could challenge him – discussions about books you both read could last hours, with points given to either side equally – no winner, no loser, both richer.

You liked Alastor. Really liked him. You also had a silly, little crush on him, for a while now, but you kept that to yourself, nothing going further than a few flirtatious moments 'in good fun', calling each other 'doe' and 'buck' with a laugh. A joke between friends. Friendship, you decided, was enough for you, if it was for him.

The entrance doors slammed suddenly, making you all jump in your seats. Alastor stood at the door, looking... different. Stressed? You cocked a brow when you saw his eye twitch, while he sauntered over to the group.

„Al, do you want to join us? We're watching a movie!“, Charlie said absent-mindedly, her eyes glued to the scene of 'Can you feel the love tonight'.

Alastor gave the TV set a judgmental smile and waved his hand. „Tempting, but it has been a rather hard day, I'll just take a drink and retreat to my room, dear.“ He left the group and went to the bar, your pair of eyes the only one following him. Something was NOT right. His smile was tight, his eyes wider than usual, his movements almost jagged instead of fluid. Niffty had jumped to the bar too, insisting on helping Alastor by retrieving a glass for his whiskey from one the higher shelves. In her eagerness to climb and get it, she didn't watch her steps careful enough, resulting in a few delicate wine glasses sliding from the shelfves and breaking into a hundred tiny pieces. Alastor's reaction was as unexpected as it was worrying – he always had a soft spot for Niffty, laughing over her antics and chaotic energy, often encouraging her even to produce more mayhem. This time, however, he started to scold the maid, who blinked at him with a big, guilty eye and trembling lips.

„Such indignation, really Niffty. Clean the shards at once, and try not to remain to be such a clumsy clot.“, he almost hissed, grabbing the bottle and a simple crystal glass before striding away hastily. Your eyes followed his figure until he turned the corner to the staircase, then you got up and comforted the little demon, helping her sweeping up the glass pieces while she sniffeled tears away.

You let your gaze swipe over the group, completely ignorant about what happened with Niffty, and Alastor. Ignorant of the blatantly obvious bad mood of the deer demon.

Turning to Charlie, you whispered to her that you had a headache and would be going to bed, to which she just nodded. No one acknowledged your leave, all eyes on the screen and still bickering noisily. A bunch of friends, you are, you thought annoyed with a shaking head.

Three flights of stairs later, you reached Alastor's room. You pressed your ear to the door, and heard dull bangs, like something was thrown, and a muffled voice. You knocked, and the room instantly stilled.

„Alastor, it's me.“, you said loudly, brows furrowed. „Are you okay?“

A few seconds of silence. „I'm just fine and dandy my dear.“

You put one hand on the door. He normally would open it, to speak with you directly, face uncomfortably close to face, just the way he liked it. But it stayed close.

„You didn't look fine.“, you stated. You were ever so stubborn.

„Well, I am fine. Now shoo, darling, good night.“

You stood in front of the wooden divider, contemplating. You could just go. Leave him be, wait until tomorrow. See if he would talk to you then. But then, there was your gut. And it told you Alastor wasn't well. And that just didn't sit right with you.

„Alastor. Please, let me in.“

No response, just hint of the prickling feeling of static electricity on your skin.

„I know something is bothering you, and I'm worried.“

No response. You breathe in and out.

„I'm not going anywhere until you open the...“

The door flew open, a hand wrapped around your arm and pulled you into the room, violently. You stumbled and fell against a bookshelf, catching the fall with your hands to keep you upright. You heard a slam and a click – door closed, door locked. The static was everywhere now, flushing in waves over your body. You turned around -

Alastor was pacing like a wounded animal, he seemed fluffed up, as if every hair on his body had decided to stand up. His scleras were dark pits, blackest black, and in it his irises burned angrily in crimson flames, now focusing solely on you. The prey.

„So you came to test my patience too, dear?“, he snarled, his voice so distorted it ached in your ears. „It's not enough that that waste of cables destroyed two of my radio towers. Not enough that dozens of my most profitable souls have been rendered useless by an angelic bomb. Not enough that I not only had to put the disgraceful flat screened wretch back in his place, but also his vulgar boy toy and their brazen, attention-seeking brat.“

He grew in size as he ranted, you watched him reaching the ceiling, antlers scraping along the walls. „I manage my weakening territories, manage these imbeciles who think they can play overlords, I manage this sad excuse of a hotel, I manage the princess's unattainable ideas, and now, I also need to manage you, too, of all people? What a disappointm...“

„Stop.“

You held up a hand. Alastor growled, fluffing up even more, limbs cracking and static popping. „How dare y...“

„Stop.“, you said again. Your tone was calm, void of anger, or fear, neutral and steady. He stared at you, and you held his gaze. „Breathe, Alastor.“

You saw him fighting with himself. He fought against his instinct to oppose, to command, to put you into your place, to rip you apart. His elongated claws scraped over the floor, ripping deep ridges in the wood.

„Breathe.“, you repeated, firmer this time.

Slowly, gradually, Alastor shrunk. Breathed. Crumbled. Until he was back to his usual size and form, only with an exhausted expression.

You studied him – you've never seen him like that. He never allowed anyone to see him as something other than 'the radio demon': Powerful, unshakeable, quick on his feet and always one step ahead. How exhausting it must be. To always have the control also meant to always carry responsibility, to always fear impending failure.

Your heart whispered to you, and you followed it's advice. It could be the most stupid thing you could do, but you decided to do it anyway.

„Come here, Alastor.“

He looked at you, unsure, suspicious. You sounded commanding, but not harsh. Inviting. Like a hand, reached out to someone trapped. For a moment, you almost thought you ruined everything – his eyes left yours, they fell to the ground as he shifted on his feet.

But then – steps. Coming closer. Stopping right in front of you. And suddenly..

His head on your shoulder. His breath on your neck. His voice in your ear.

„Sometimes I'm so sick of it all. Sick of maneuvering, sick of ruling, governing, planning...“

You touched his neck, he let you, caressing the soft skin, heated from his outburst, trembling slightly at the contact. It was intimate, baring this vulnerable part to you. You heart broke for him.

He pulled himself away from you, searching for your eyes. Finding them again, he took your hand, bringing it up to his face, guiding your fingers over his lips. He just said one word.

„Please.“

So much was said with this please. You heard every message. Giving up control, just for a bit, just with something he didn't care enough about to insist on ruling, could be a small bit of freedom. Letting himself be guided instead of leading.

“Kneel down, Alastor.”

His ears pressed flat against his head, but he did as he was told. He couldn't look you in the eyes. For once, you were the one towering over him. You took his face in your hands, pulling it so he looked up to you, seeing your warm smile before your lips met his.

His breath hitched, stuck somewhere in his throat.

You slid one hand to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, the other caressing his cheek as you tilted your head and deepened the kiss. Slowly, the rigidity melted away, he started to shift, lips no longer stiff but soft and molding against your own.

He tried to stand up, but you pushed him down, gently, definitively.

“Trust me to guide you, buck.”

He breathed, one, two, three times, eyes closed, grin tight.

“Yes, doe.”

Your own excitement took a back seat. You were filled with pure energy at the thought of crossing the line with him, having Alastor in a way you only dreamed about, convinced your relationship would never come this far. But. But this was not about you, for now. Maybe, another time. If another time ever came.

You lowered yourself on him, straddling him, so you were still 'taller', and rejoined your lips. You took his hands and set them on your hips, let them rest there while you buried yours in his hair, tugging lightly to bend his head back. His initial resistance lessened, and he gave in, exposing his throat, gray skin peeking out of his high collar. You let your mouth travel to his jawline, down to the small patch of delicate, thin skin, right next to his jugular. You felt him tense, felt his rising urge to protect himself from your potential strike. You let out a soft hum as you started to lick it, sucking gently, just a bit, just to make him shiver at the sensation. And how he did.

A moan, low and sweet like the strumming of a cello, escaped him, his hands crushing your hips by the force of his grip. It hurt, but you decided to ignore it. Little steps.

“Can you take more, good boy?”

His eyes snapped open, burning furiously. You met them with calmness, with a soft matter-of-fact-ness. Not smug, not mocking. A question. Proceed or Stop?

Alastor swallowed hot saliva. You could see he was getting overwhelmed, overstimulated, and yet, he had such a longing in his eyes, such desperation.

“Yes.”

One simple word. One spark, setting your body on fire. You tried to force your trembling fingers to steady, lifting yourself slightly off him to open his trousers. With every button, his breaths grew heavier, his grip on your legs grew tighter, claws already digging in your skin and drawing blood.

“Careful, buck. I'll need these in a moment.”, you said, placing both hands on his chest, pushing him flat on his back on the ground. He let you go, arms falling useless next to him.

You leaned forward, thanking any deity that would listen you decided to wear a skirt today, and placed a hand on his growing bulge. He hissed at the touch, cracking the floor as his fingers clawed into the wood of the floor instead your fleshy legs.

Freed from it's cage, Alastor's dick was already dripping with beads of precum, a sight to behold. You wrapped your fingers around it, feeling the warmth and bloodflow, it twitched in your hand. You stroke him, eliciting the most sinful noises from the demon under you.

You took a deep breath. One more, one question more, to make sure that he wanted it.

“Look at me, Alastor.”

He sat up on his elbows, looking more helpless than you've ever imagined he could. Even his smile wavered, threatening to break. You were looking for any signs of hesitation, disgust, resistance, regret. You only found desire. A want, a need, almost pleading eyes.

Your free hand pushed your panty away, enough to expose your lips, and you lowered yourself onto him, his length slowly entering you. He was big, you were tight. A bittersweet combination. Sparks flew before your eyes as he stretched you, but you were hypnotized by his eyes.

They were blown wide, returned to black, but the irises now flickering into dials, turning, left to right as he groaned. You moved, guiding your hips up and down, feeling yourself molding to his shape in the most delectable way, and getting drunk off the look on his face.

You increased the pace on which you pushed yourself on him, adding a little tilt of your hips to take him even deeper. His voice was reduced to a static-y mess, hums and groans and moans bleeding into each other. You placed both of your hands on his chest for more support, inevitably pinning him down. His hands flew to yours, threatening to push them off him, but instead, he entwined his fingers with yours, panting heavily.

It didn't take long for him to feel the pressure, unbearable and urgent, his release approaching at godspeed.

“Doe, I can't...”

Panic in his tone. He tried to put his hands on your waist to pull you off. You understood immediately – an upbringing in conservative times, decades of living by the rules of a gentleman, he was resisting against the thought of cumming inside you. You pushed his hands away.

“Yes, you can.”, you stated, smiling at him, a hint of wickedness in your eyes. “And you will.”

Your skilled movements and dedicated demeanor sent him over the edge immediately. Protests were futile as he came in you forcefully, you felt his cock pumping his seed deep into you, hot and thick as you rocked him through his orgasm. Your own high wasn't worth chasing, too far away to matter. You didn't even think about it – nothing could feel better than this.

Alastor ran his hands over his forehead, sweeping away beads of sweat as his breath calmed down.

His hand shot out to grab you, and, still impaled by him, he pulled you into his chest, invading your mouth with his tongue to kiss you possessively. As if to transfer the command, the control he had given up, back to him. Taking it from you.

For a moment you were scared. The positions had reset to their default. Would that mean he'd push you off? Say goodnight and never talk about this night again? Returning to the Status Quo. Friends, the end.

Alastor pulled your chin up to look at you. His thumb ran over your cheek, tenderly and full of care. His eyes answered every question in your mind. You weren't scared anymore.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #charlie morningstar #fraugwinskawrites #quick fic #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin smut

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wardenparker · 3 months

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Hurry Home

Frankie Morales x female reader x Santiago Garcia

Rating: E for Explicit 18+ Word Count: 1.2k Warnings: Reader is described as wearing feminine clothing and having hair long enough to run fingers through. Fluff. Domesticity. Food/alcohol. Oral sex (m receiving), mention of shower sex. Summary: A small snapshot of an established poly relationship. Notes: There is no world in which I do not want to be in a poly marriage with Frankie and Pope. End of story. I hope you enjoy!

The light in the living room is still on when you come through the door; the smell of long-cooked chili wafting from the kitchen where unwashed dishes sit waiting for the morning. You drop your purse in its traditional place on the little table by the door and immediately reach down to pry the high heels off your aching feet. Too many damned meetings have fried your brain and left you craving a hot dinner and sweet cuddles. Thankfully, that delicious smell from the kitchen and the sound of Yellowstone on the television in the living room mean that Santiago is home. Alas, the gentle snoring means he has fallen asleep on the sofa.

Intent on not waking him up, you decide not to turn on the light and move soundlessly around the kitchen in your stockings and dress, glad to have rejected your heels at the door. Santi’s chili is your favourite comfort food. It’s spicy enough to clean out your sinuses but so complexly flavored that he completely betrays his years of culinary school every time he makes it. And he never minds that you scoop it up in half a bag’s worth of convenience store tortilla chips every time you need that next level comfort. Tonight, you pour absurd amounts of cheap tequila and margarita mix into a novelty pint glass and tap the microwave button to stop the heating cycle before it beeps too loudly across the apartment.

You reach blindly over to grab a spoon out of the drawer and have one plopped into your hand instead. “Jesus Christ!” You hiss, snatching your hand away and just barely managing not to drop the flatware.

The snickering giggle from your right isn’t Santi’s.

“Frankie!” You almost shriek, face splitting into an immediate smile and throwing your arms around his neck without a second lost.

“Shh! Shhhh, love.” Frankie wraps his arms tight around your waist, breathing in the faded strains of your expensive perfume. “Santi’s sleeping.”

“I thought you weren’t coming home until tomorrow?” You nuzzle into the crook of his neck, smiling against his skin. He’s already stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers from whatever he’d put on that morning and he looks good enough to eat. Damn the chili, Frankie is a whole three course meal in his own right.

“I rescheduled for an earlier flight.” It sounds almost confessional, the way he quietly whispers in your ear. “I missed you.”

“Mmm,” The hum comes up from the back of your throat. “We missed you, too.”

“Is that why you have the world’s largest and saddest margarita in that glass?” Frankie smirks, raising one eyebrow at the glass on the counter next to your bowl. That awful sugary bottled cocktail mix only sneaks its way into your home when Frankie is away. As a former bartender he finds it fully offensive, but he knows you like sticky sweet drinks.

“Give me a break,” you beg, pouting fiercely. This is why you were having such a big drink tonight – not only because of the day you’d had at work but to empty the bottle before his return. “I had four meetings today, I earned this sugary tequila.”

Frankie knows how hard you work, constantly proving yourself day-in and day-out in an office full of men where you are the best educated in the room but always last to get a new client. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m only teasing.” He plies you with a soft kiss, letting it deepen when you sigh to let him in. Your reunions are like this more often than not now, after almost a decade together. In the beginning you would be fucking against a wall within minutes of the door closing, so desperate to feel each other’s touch again after a business trip or other time away that you had ruined a fair few pieces of clothing in moments of enthusiasm.

Now you linger together and let yourselves melt into each other, usually ending up going to bed early with a bottle of wine. When Santi had become a part of your romantic lives, you had become oddly more domestic, but you all quietly agreed that that was due to age and not a loss of passion. In fact, the only odd thing about it was that it had taken so long. For as close as Frankie and Santi had always been, it had taken the three of you going camping for a long weekend for something to finally happen.

Soft became sensual becomes hungry, and proof of that passion shows itself in you shoving Frankie’s hips against the kitchen counter so you can drop to your knees in front of him in synchrony with his boxers hitting the tiled floor.

“Goddamn.” Frankie’s long, thick fingers flex insistently against the base of your skull, not scratching or pulling, but encouraging as he drinks in the sight of you in the glowing shadow of the flickering living room television.

You have only gotten more gorgeous as you’ve gotten older, growing from an adorable little imp to an elegant and confident woman who owns her curves instead of hiding them. He’s always loved your body in every form, but he loves even more the way you’ve come to love yourself. With that confidence in yourself had come even more confidence as a lover – and he is more than okay with that. He simply wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t show you the vocal appreciation he has for your skills with your tongue. “Fuck, baby girl,” he moans, humming so deeply that he practically purrs.

“You know he’s just going to keep taking more out of town jobs if this is how he gets greeted at home.” Santi’s sleep-thick voice joins the rather obscene sound of your mouth leaving Frankie’s cock and your eyes flick up to Santi with an amused glint.

“Are you trying to tell me that you didn’t give him the same hello?” You tease. These men always make you smile. And moan. They always make you moan.

“Of course not.” Santi’s hand goes to his chest in mock affront before he leans down to nip at your bottom lip. “I gave him a good fuck in the shower. Obviously.”

“And I’m the one who’s spoiling him?” On your knees with Frankie’s length in one hand, you reach for the waistband of Santi’s joggers with the other and feel your smile go lopsided as your eyes grow darker. “I’ll spoil both of you, then.”

“Didn’t mean to wake you up.” Frankie apologizes by pulling Santi in close, untangling one of his hands from your hair only to catch it up in the other man’s equally thick locks as they come together in a kiss. You’ll lavish them with attention here and then they will bring you to bed where they have space to work over every inch of you – the three of you falling asleep in a sweaty pile of satisfied partners.

When Santi had joined your family, you and Frankie had become a little more domestic. You had found the piece of your marriage that you hadn’t known was missing in a clever, loving third partner, and now you can’t imagine your lives without him.

______

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avatar-anna · 1 year

Text

Sugar & Spice

What if y/n was Harry's tour chef and harry has a huge ass crush on her so he would be like the first one seated for y/ns food and he would always compliment her

i was wondering if you could do one where the reader asked him to come over for comfort (maybe her bf cheated idk) and after she stops feeling so bad they have a moment and end up kissing and then their feelings get all confused??

"Make something that would make someone fall in love with you."

Your heart still thundered at the words, the soft request that felt like a demand caressing your thoughts and sending chills down your spine. Pastel anticipation stirred within your belly as you kept an eye on the saucepan in front of you.

The apartment was rich with the smell of spices. Harry had asked for a dish, but you were about to serve him a full-course meal, all teeming with flavor and color, the smell of everything fusing together in your kitchen and leaking throughout the rest of the apartment in a cuisine symphony. Even the pan full of molten chocolate permeated the room, the hint of chili you added to it cutting through the richness.

An arm snaked around your waist, the other reaching to sneak a taste of the chocolate sauce in front of you, a searing kiss to the back of your neck trying to act as a distraction. But when you were in the kitchen, you had laser-sharp focus. You smacked the hand away playfully, but not without intention.

"How much longer?" Harry asked, nipping at your jaw.

The breath on your neck, the lips on your skin, the hand on your waist sent you leaning into him, but not without the aftershock of surprise.

You were his tour caterer, his employee, and while the two of you had grown quite close since Live on Tour began, you were just friends. Harry was always first in line when dinner was being served and sometimes helped clean up when he could. He joined you on small excursions to farmer's markets to buy fresh ingredients and listened to you go on and on about the value of farm-fresh, locally sourced produce.

Food, cooking, creating, they were all things that cultivated your passion, one you could talk about for ages, if given the chance. Not many did, even your boyfriend's eyes glazed over if you talked about a new way to prepare cauliflower for too long. But Harry was always willing to listen and even peppered you with questions that you were more than happy to answer.

You became fast friends. You cooked for him during the day and talked and laughed over a bottle of wine and bread and cheese at night after his shows, riding out his adrenaline until he eventually walked you back to your hotel room or tour bus, depending on where you were traveling. Harry was a good friend, a great one even, one you knew you would cherish far beyond this tour.

Until tonight, where the jury was still out on the status of said friendship.

Because tonight something...changed.

Harry's show was in your hometown, and as such, you invited your boyfriend to come to the show. Being on the road for long months on end didn't make maintaining a relationship easy, and things had become strained, but tonight was meant to be an olive branch. You were excited to see your boyfriend after being away from him for so long, had gushed to Harry about how you were going to make his favorite meal and sleep soundly in your bed instead of a hotel room or bus bunk.

But before any of that could happen, your boyfriend admitted to having cheated on you while you were gone.

You were a wreck. You knew things between you and your boyfriend weren't great, but you never imagined that he would cheat. His confession swept the ground out from beneath you, blindsiding you in a way that manifested in calm confusion as you told him things were over between the two of you. But when he left and you were alone in the tour venue's kitchen, you could feel the breakdown coming. So instead of going to Harry's show, as you normally did, you went straight to the apartment you hadn't seen in months. Harry came shortly after the concert was over.

Having been in a relationship, and never considering yourself the cheating type, you never saw Harry as anything more than a friend. He was lovely, and oh so sweet, and very, very handsome. He was interested in your work and made you laugh and enjoyed talking to you as much as you liked talking to him. But he was your boss, and a celebrity, and you had a boyfriend. It was pretty cut and dry.

When he arrived on your doorstep, you were wrapped in a blanket, only the center of your face poking out of it. Harry cuddled up next to you on the couch and let you cry and rant and cry some more. He kissed the top of your head and wiped your nose with the sleeve of his tour sweatshirt. And despite your red, puffy eyes, despite the tears hanging off the tips of your lashes, Harry leaned in, nudged his nose against yours in a way that had you leaning in too, and you let him kiss you.

It was startling. Not that Harry was a good kisser, that seemed like a given. No, what was startling was how much you enjoyed it, how tender the slide of his mouth against yours was. He was gentle, like he was trying to be respectful of the fact that you'd broken up with your boyfriend mere hours ago. But the flash of your boyfriend's face behind your eyelids had you pulling away from him in an instant.

You were single technically, but it still didn't feel right; no matter how much you might've liked the kiss, no matter how much Harry seemed to enjoy it as well. You hid from Harry in your room. Not because you were hung up on your boyfriend, but because it felt so right to kiss Harry. And that thought filled you with panic and guilt.

Harry was still there when you eventually stepped out of your room, willing to listen as he always was, but you didn't say anything, just walked over to the kitchen and asked if he was hungry.

There were words left unsaid between the two of you, but both of you seemed content to ignore them for now, though when Harry murmured, "Make a dish that you would use to seduce someone. Make them fall in love with you," it was clear how he felt. He put himself out there, waiting to see if you would accept the advances or reject them.

And now he was wrapped around you, kissing you like he'd been doing it for years.

"Mmm. The peach and burrata salad is done, the fried duck wings just need a glaze, the rice should be done any minute now, the chocolate needs just a little more—"

"Okay, so you need more time. Can I help you set the table, at least?" he said, huffing out a laugh.

You could only manage a nod and a quick murmur of where he could find what he needed. Your eyes stayed on the food cooking in front of you, but you heard every noise Harry made as he moved through your kitchen.

*.*.*.*.**.*.*.*.**.*.*.*.**.*.*.*.**.*.*.*.**.*.*.*.**.*.*.*.**.*.*.

Somehow you ended up on Harry's lap, a homemade churro doused in cinnamon and sugar and dipped in chocolate poised toward his mouth. His eyes were heavy-lidded as he took a bite, the crunch a harsh sound as he closed his eyes and moaned at the taste.

The sound had you blushing. You knew it was because of the food, and if you looked past the bashfulness, you would be proud that your cooking skills elicited such a reaction.

You could've made something fancy, something that would've shown off your culinary skills in a way that catering to everyone on tour didn't give you the opportunity to do. But when you began rooting around the kitchen, your hands automatically went for the rice cooker, and things just kind of went from there.

The appetizers were unique, you supposed. Fried duck wings with a lemon glaze and a mixed green salad with burrata cheese, peach slices, and a number of other colorful things that brought it to life. But the main course was fairly simple, still full of flavor, but simple. Chicken and rice and beans, almost the exact same recipe you'd grown up with. Harry asked for something that would make someone fall in love with you, and you figured there was no better way to do that than the root, the catalyst, for your love of the kitchen.

Harry marveled at all of it, listening as he normally did when you talked about knife techniques, and cooking times, and flavor profiles. You talked, perhaps to cover up your nerves, as you plated and served everything, and when you went to sit across from him, Harry gently grabbed you by the waist, and now here you were.

Harry's fingers grazed your arm in lazy circles, over the tattoos inked on your skin. They were all over your arms and abdomen, a passion you had that was almost as strong as your love for cooking. It was the first commonality you shared with Harry when you said hello after serving him and the rest of the crew the first meal of the tour. Both of you were busy at the time and couldn't discuss tattoos at length the way both of you seemed to want to, but Harry stopped by during lunch the next day, and the two of you talked over shrimp fried rice you'd whipped up.

"This...This shouldn't be this good," Harry finally managed to say.

It took a moment to find your voice, Harry's voice low in a way that made you suppress a shiver. But you said despite your dry mouth, "I'm glad you like it."

"And—And is it spicy? The chocolate? It's subtle, but I swear it's there."

"Chili powder. Just a little," you said with a nod.

"Oh. Well, don't let me eat all of it. Here," he said, offering the dessert in his hand to you.

You eyed the plate on the table that had three more churros on it and a bowl filled nearly to the brim with chocolate sauce, then back to him with raised eyebrows. Harry had the decency to blush, but he didn't back away or lower his hand. So, with a confidence that you didn't know you had or knew where it came from, you took a bite, just like he had.

You could feel Harry's eyes on you, which was alarming seeing as there wasn't really a sexy way to eat something so messy. Not that you were trying to be sexy, but Harry's gaze practically lit you on fire. You didn't want to be unappealing in front of him. He didn't seem to notice or care, though, just kept his eyes on you.

"You have something on your—"

He finished his sentence by reaching up to brush something away from the corner of your mouth. At least that's what you thought he was trying to do. But when his thumb grazed your skin, something warm, warmer than the heat of his skin, smeared over your lips. Chocolate.

Eyes widened, you opened your mouth to ask what he was doing, but he spoke first.

"I'll get it."

But instead of using his hand, he slid his mouth over yours.

You became as molten as the chocolate you made to dip the churros in, the kiss heating you from the inside. The first kiss you shared earlier in the evening had been tentative, curious. This one was pure heat as Harry licked over your bottom lip, sweeping up the chocolate on it that he'd placed there, and when you opened up for him, it lingered on his tongue along with the wine you picked out to go with dinner.

Harry barely gave you any time to gasp. He kissed you like he was starved, his kiss bruising in a way that had you pulling him tighter rather than pulling back, taking those curls that were just as soft as you thought they would be and gripping them tight between your fingers. His hands were warm beneath the thin material of your t-shirt, tracing the tattoo just above your belly button that spanned across your abdomen with the pads of his fingers. Angel, it read in big, bold script. Some people found it appalling, others intriguing or striking. You never really cared what people thought of your tattoos. Until you felt Harry's stare burning into your stomach every time your shirt rode up tonight to reveal bits and pieces of it tonight, that is.

"What—What are we doing?" you managed to breathe.

One of his hands had grazed your neck, leaving a trail of chocolate sauce in their wake, and Harry was now doing his best to clean it with his tongue. His other hand rose dangerously close to just below your breast, the anticipation of his touch making you shudder, but it also made a seed of hesitation take root in your mind.

Harry paused and faced you again, though his nose nearly touched yours. "I...I don't know," he said, and while that only made the seed grow, you appreciated his honesty. "I like how I feel when I'm around you. And I know it's messy with the tour and your—with your ex-boyfriend and everything, but...I don't know. I don't like shying away from a good feeling."

That's exactly what it was. Messy. What happened if things progressed from here and didn't work out? You had a job to do, you worked for Harry. You might have been able to acknowledge that good feeling Harry was talking about—a complete understatement, "good" didn't seem to do whatever was forming between the two of you justice—but you weren't sure it was worth possibly losing your job or compromising your raw emotions over. He might've been able to chase his feelings, but you couldn't.

"I—I would never fire you, or anything like that," he said, seeming to read your thoughts as they flitted through your mind. "And I'll respect your decision, whatever it is. I won't even bring it up again if you don't want me to."

The sincerity in his voice told you that Harry was telling the truth, and you knew him well enough that you believed him. You didn't know if it was just the heat of the moment for him, or if he'd secretly been harboring feelings, or if it was something else, and you couldn't even begin to untangle everything getting jumbled up in your heart.

But you could see the promise in Harry's eyes, the green in them clear as you had this conversation. The promise that he would make it worth your while, should you decide to go through with...whatever it was he was proposing.

Your apartment was so quiet, you swore you could hear his heartbeat thumping in time with yours. With shallow breath and shaking hands, you cupped his cheek. Your hand was rough with calluses, cuts, and scars from your time as a chef. Knife technique that developed over time and oil that bubbled a little too excitedly in the fryer; some of the pads of your fingers were even a little numb from touching hot food with your bare hands.

Harry didn't shy away from the roughness, though. Not as you caressed his cheekbone with your thumb and stood up from where you'd been perched on his lap. For a moment, his eyes left yours to gaze downward at what he thought was rejection, but when he heard the soft thud of you clothes hitting the floor, he looked up, drinking in every inch of skin you offered to him.

In just a pair of plain cotton underwear—the thick sheaths of your hair covering your chest and revealing only tiny glimpses of your skin and the tattoos inked on it—you picked up the bowl of melted chocolate off the table. Your eyes never once left his as you backed away toward your bedroom, an invitation held in them.

From the look on his face as he took in your near-nakedness, you thought Harry might've crawled. But, almost as if in a trance, he stood from his seat and followed you, taking your face in his hands and kissing you for all you were worth as he shut the door to your room with a definitive slam.

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles imagines

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clockwayswrites · 1 year

Text

Like Betta Fish Do - Part 13

Masterpost of ao3 link and all parts. WC: 1563 (Ch 10 when on ao3)

Jason settled in, legs draped over the edge of the building, and unwrapped sandwich enough to take a large bite. Next to him, Dick did the same.

They had gotten back into the habit slowly— in fits and starts and Jason turning down Dick’s gentle inquiry (plea, it was a plea) more often than not— but now, once a month at least, Red Hood and Nightwing could be found perched on a rooftop, sharing a meal. Chili dogs to burgers to sandwiches— anything that could be easily held, quickly eaten, and was open late to serve the night owls of Gotham.

Tonight it was bahn mi sandwiches from an amazing little Vietnamese place in Blüdhaven.

It was easier to take these moments in Blüdhaven.

Jason knew that tonight's ‘Big Brother Bonding Binge’ (Dick’s name for it), had been purposefully arranged. Nightwing would have had no issue handling that bust on his own. Jason wanted to resent it— Dick had been more a mother hen than usual since Jason had been ‘sick’— but Jason… Jason wanted someone to talk to.

Every since driving Danny out to the ocean, Jason had been thinking. His little revelation that he didn’t want to stop living… no, that he need to actively start living, had been rattling around in his brain. It was leading to all sorts of thoughts and plans that he didn’t know how to handle anymore.

It was still a struggle some days to think about the fact that he had a future to look forward to.

Jason could practically feel Dick vibrating with the need to ask next to him, so he threw his brother a bone. “I’ve… been thinking about going to college?”

He hadn’t meant it to come out like a question.

“Really?” Dick asked, perking up like a damn puppy. “That’s great Jay. Are you thinking Gotham U? What do you want to major in? Wait— do you’ll need a GED—”

“Got my GED as soon as I was officially back from the dead,” Jason said, cutting off Dick’s rambling. “I was… I mean, probably Gotham U eventually? I was thinking maybe just online classes first? There’s still days that…”

There were still days that Jason just couldn’t handle people very well or that the pain was too bad.

“Online classes sound like a great way to start,” Dick said. “Are you thinking about just doing gen eds then?”

“To start, yeah. But I was… I guess there are a few things I’m considering? Mostly thinking that I could maybe get something in social sciences that would be good for nonprofit work. I’ve been doing that stuff with the foundation, but I know I’m not really qualified to do a lot. And if I got a degree that could help out maybe.” Jason made himself take a breath. “Maybe I could do some real good as me and not just as Red Hood.”

“I know you could, little wing,” Dick said with one of his soft smiles; the type that always made Jason ache a little.

Jason elbowed him lightly, more to jostle him than to wound. Dick just laughed for Jason’s efforts.

“B is going to be ecstatic,” Dick said after polishing off the last bite of his sandwich.

“You mean insufferable,” Jason grumbled.

“Overenthusiastic,” Dick corrected. Jason gave in with a little shrug. “I’ll try to hold him back, but you know he just gets happy whenever he can do something for you.”

“You’re talking like I’m going to take his help.”

“You are— you’re smart enough not to wrack up that sort of debt when you can use B’s money instead.”

Jason sighed, exaggerating the sound so that the full effect would come through his respirator. There were still nights when he missed his helmet and the anonymity it provided, but the respirator, domino, and literal hood did make it easier to express himself when he wanted to. “Fine. But you getter try to make him tone it down.”

“Cross my heart,” Dick said, complete with the motion. “You’re best off telling him at a family dinner then.”

He had a point. “Next month then.”

“Or,” Dick said, drawing the word out as he leaned into Jason’s side. “You could come by sooner. You don’t have to only come once a month, Jay.”

“Wing,” Jason said, the name a sigh.

“Think about it. I promise to be there if you want to— and I’ll call in favors to get whoever else you want there too.”

Jason was a little touched despite himself. Favors were no small matter in the Wayne family. “Thanks—”

“Nightwing, Hood,” Oracle cut in across the comms.

Both vigilantes straightened up at her tone.

“Here,” Jason answered for both of. His voice roughened as he slipped back into being Red Hood. There was no room for Jason in a mission that had Oracle sounding that serious.

“Two-Face escaped from Arkham.”

Jason could sense Dick stop breathing next to him. Two-Face wasn’t Joker level, no one really was, but Two-Face was still Dick’s Joker. They had talked about it, one bad night— too cold and too haunted up on top of a bridge. Dick had spoken in hushed, short sentences— as it by saying the words quick enough and letting the frigid winter wind rip them away he could finally be free of it.

It didn’t work.

Nothing ever would.

Jason shifted just enough to press his knee against Dick’s. The forceful intake of breath the nudge caused was so sharp that it must have hurt.

---

Jason slammed the hidden door in the back of his closet closed as he shoved through it.

He had gotten through patrol.

Somehow, he had gotten through patrol while holding off the worst of the Pit Rage.

Now the green was crowding out most of his vision as he stalked into his apartment. He fisted a hand in his hair, yanking as he tried to ground himself. He should be able to get a handle on himself.

It shouldn’t be this bad.

Nothing happened.

Maybe it was worse that nothing had happened.

Every missed chance of catching up with Two-Face, every bust of his henchmen that went nowhere, every empty warehouse— Jason had been forced to watch Dick grow tenser and tenser. Jason had just wanted to take his big brother out of there— take him back to a safe house where Jason could protect him from everything.

But there was no protecting anyone from their own mind.

Jason knew that.

Jason knew that with every creeping flick of green on the edge of his vision.

He was helpless against it all: helpless to help Dick, helpless to stop this pain, helpless to stop his own—

No.

What he needed to stop was this… this spiraling. He was home.

No one knew he’d been fighting the Rage.

No one was in danger.

Da- Batman would be looking into Two-Face relentlessly.

Jason just had to look after himself, just for the moment.

Fuck he was such a failure.

No.

Stop that.

Stop stop stop.

Jason collapsed on his couch. He dragged the weighted blanket up over his shoulders. Fingers laced, shuddering, behind his neck Jason struggled to suck in a breath of air.

Another.

One more.

Just keep breathing.

---

Someone was knocking at his door.

The sound pulled Jason out of his haze and he blinked, listlessly. His world was sideways from where he had collapsed on the couch.

The knocking continued.

He ignored them.

“Jason?” Oh. It was Danny. He sounded panicked. “Come on Jason, if you don’t open up I’m coming in.”

No.

He couldn’t let Danny in.

If Danny got in, Jason could hurt him.

He couldn’t hurt Danny.

Jason surged to his feet, stumbling into his coffee table as the world spun around him. The mug he’d been drinking tea out of before patrol rocked off the edge and shattered.

The cold tea seeped under Jason’s bare feet.

“Jason.”

A drip of red bled into the liquid.

A shard of ceramic must have cut his foot.

“Jason.”

His head jerked up.

Danny was inside his apartment.

No no no—

“Get out.” The growled words tore themselves from Jason’s throat before he even was aware of speaking.

Danny took a hesitant step forward instead, reaching out like he wanted to get closer and touch. “Jason, no. Your whole haunt is— I can feel how scared you are right now, I’m not leaving you alone.”

“Get out.”

“Maybe an ectoshot?”

Danny wasn’t listening.

“I know we were going to wait at least one more week but it might help you stabilize—”

Why wasn’t Danny listening? “Get out.”

“I can always project with my core. You said you could sense me before?”

“I said get out!” Jason roared. He lost the rest of his vision to the burning green as he stalked forward.

“Jason, I can help—”

A fist slammed into the door Danny was backed up against. Wood cracked under the now bleeding knuckles that were inches from Danny’s head. Jason crowded in close, teeth bared with a growl— close enough for the toxic green glow of his eyes to reflect off of Danny’s tan skin. With a quiet viciousness he hissed, “Get out.”

And Danny did. He phased right out through the door.

Alone in his apartment Jason sagged against the bloody door with a half screamed sob.

-----

AN: We are back~ sorry for the longer than normal delay- health and work have both conspired against me. I’m sure this is still full of issues but that’s why we do a rewrite and beta before it goes on ao3~

It’s a small chapter, but it’s what it needed to be I think.

Hope you enjoyed and stay delightful, darlings!

The endless tag list that maybe will work, maybe won’t. Who know! I sure don’t! @fisticuffsatapplebees @thegatorsgoose @wolfeyedwitch @lazy-bouqet @confusedandghostly @glomsk @kailithiel @bahfev @d4ydr34min9 @claudiashq @someonebored0100 @pastalavistamf @samgirl98 @angelheartgamer @lehana37 @spiteismymiddlename @rosecinnamonbun @demon-cat-goes-woof @violet-catsarelife @avelnfear @undead-essence @basilf1res @amillionandonefandoms @stealingyourbones @sarcastic-yami @bun-fish @aconitewolfsbane @dontfightmecauseillcry @omgnectarina @vehan-tikkun-olam-and-stuff @the-blind-one-speaks @mimilikey @wolfe-marvin @learning-to-fly-on-my-own @multplelifes @yurijay @bae-graphomaniac @fan4rt1st @weirdestarrow @wolfjackle @allulily @onyxlightdragon @zotinha456 @wwwwyamd @river9noble @starscreamlover @michealawithana @robinmedea @spideypoolalways @jesus-camp-the-sequel @persephoneblackrose @f4nd0m-fun @mady-is-ace-trash @ascetic-orange @renwilson @ace-aro-as-shit @rangerhorsetug @thatrandomsarahchick @holygoldfish @mlpizza @chrysanthemum9484 @justwannaseesomebrozawa @newgraywolf @crazylittlemunchkin @fire-glass @autumnrosnor @the-nerdy-fangirl @faithblob-says-things @a-star-with-a-human-name @winged-scaly-attic-dweller @mistermetalmaker @apersond @mustachebatschaos @joaniejustwokeup @that-dumbass-on-a-horse @plainly-colorful @blackcatsandhaunteddolls @booklover223 @alice-hazelwood @answrs @enbydemirainbowbigfoot @felicityroth @wanderingrutabaga @seraphinedemort @write-it-right-2 @my-mom-calls-me-rat @01101010-01100001-01111001 @arc-777 @crystalice067 @phoenixdemonqueen @icedbluesoul @itsparadoxlacuna @wisp-wishes @spikedlynx @redhoneysugarorange @russetfur1128 @mutable-manifestation @stargirl1331 @chaoticchange @living-on-borrowed-time @orshie @britcision @littlefeather345 @sunflowershine03 @aro-acedumbass @thefanficcup @shibanoh @icefirecrystal @thatonejumbledmess @cy-ella @kobol1 @metal-sporks @tired-yet-awaken @currant-owo @firegirl108 @stupidlovepurplepeace @drowningroane @imagineshazamlokimight @immakittybear @justalittletotheleftofnormal @chrysanthemum9484 @kawaiikenna @imaginationmademanifest @a-salty-sal @mentalcarebear @mj-arts-n-stuff @xysidhe @cottonscrambles @manapeer @yjfk @ryisc @666deaddash999 @nutcase8691 @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @dr-syko-pharm-4 @i-have-opinions @ballzfrog-blog @mysoulspiralbound @istillhavenosociallife-blog @gin2212 @annabethchase0 @basementloser @plotwholls @minnowmarsh @neverlandingbird @rootsmudge @fandom-reblog-central @serasvictoria02 @mnemovoid @taniaundertaleau @kirineo-kiki @ironicvixen @violetfox2 @redhoneysugarorange @jaxinkh @naluforever3 @horribly-lost-and-gay @nutcase8691 @babblingbat @frostedthroughghost @kyrianclawraith @caspertheloudassghost @the-forgotten-dragon-anankos @lyra689 @v-inari @idfk-man10 Magic-pincushion @terzatheunderscorerima @mysticalcomputerdetective @fallenangle67

#dp x dc #dead on main #dead on main ship #jason/danny #jason x danny #jason todd #danny fenton #like betta fish do

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