#certainly no harm in putting it here)))

[bukashki]

@ninadove YOU.

Thank you for making me appreciate the tragic nature of slithering-out-of-grasp design of Aspik. I could not resist :(( I BLAME YOU FOR EVERYTHING <3

rest of you read It brings the world back into tune

Bonus: A familiar voice

[danothan]

tough pill i have to swallow is realizing that “getting better” doesn’t mean “getting to do more things,” getting better for me means taking better initiative in protecting myself. and THAT means making sure i do LESS things

[vyunok-obyknovenniy]

A little analysis of this part in the Odyssey:

Reading time: ~10 minutes

Book 23, The Great Rooted Bed, Fagles' tr-n There he sat, leaning against the great central column, eyes fixed on the ground, waiting, poised for whatever words his hardy wife might say when she caught sight of him. A long while she sat in silence … numbing wonder filled her heart as her eyes explored his face. One moment he seemed … Odysseus, to the life— the next, no, he was not the man she knew, a huddled mass of rags was all she saw.

“Oh mother,” Telemachus reproached her, “cruel mother, you with your hard heart! Why do you spurn my father so—why don’t you sit beside him, engage him, ask him questions? What other wife could have a spirit so unbending? Holding back from her husband, home at last for her after bearing twenty years of brutal struggle— your heart was always harder than a rock!” “My child,” Penelope, well-aware, explained, “I’m stunned with wonder, powerless. Cannot speak to him, ask him questions, look him in the eyes … But if he is truly Odysseus, home at last, make no mistake: we two will know each other, even better— we two have secret signs, known to us both but hidden from the world.”

Odysseus, long-enduring, broke into a smile and turned to his son with pointed, winging words: “Leave your mother here in the hall to test me as she will. She soon will know me better. Now because I am filthy, wear such grimy rags, she spurns me—your mother still can’t bring herself to believe I am her husband.<...>

Telemachus is a precious baby, we've established that.

But he does act a bit like a brat with Penelope a couple times. Of course I don't think that any of that is malicious or that he doesn't love her, but he's still being a bit of a brat.

They both suffered, their pain was similar, but also very different, their experiences and the way they processed it were different as well.

Moreover, at this moment Telemachus has already spent some time with Odysseus. They already had their meeting/reunion and they already cried it out (to an extent. I'm sure there's more crying they'll do afterwards). They even had a father-son bonding activity (a.k.a. the slaughter of the suitors). Telemachus got to know his father at least a little bit over the past couple of days and at this point he processed and accepted the idea of Odysseus being back.

Penelope, on the other hand, was told about it just a moment ago. She can't immediately go "oh, you're saying Odysseus is back? Wonderful, let me greet him", no. Odysseus wasn't away on a short hunting trip or something, he was away for two whole decades, half of that time he was pretty much thought to be dead by most people (the first half wasn't that much better, as he could've still died any time during the war, but at least he wasn't lost, Penelope knew where he was).

Now she needs time to wrap her head around what is happening. We even see her thoughts as she goes to meet Odysseus:

Penelope started down from her lofty room, her heart in turmoil, torn … should she keep her distance, probe her husband? Or rush up to the man at once and kiss his head and cling to both his hands?

She wants to reunite with him, she wants this to be true, but she can't be sure of anything now. They have been apar for longer than they knew each other. Does he still love her like he used to? Is he the man she loved? Is it even the real Odysseus in the first place? She needs to process everything, as well as confirm all the information herself, and Telemachus, at least at this moment, doesn't comprehend that. He's acting quite immature, scolding his mother for not immediately believing and accepting that Odysseus is back.

This is a very interesting detail. First it once again shows us that Telemachus still lacks a lot of maturity, despite having been on his coming of age trip. He's still very young.

Yes, he definitely grew a lot in that short time, but it would've been impossible for him to learn everything at once, he still has a lot of that immaturity left in him, there's still a lot of room to grow and that's completely understandable. We, as people, grow for our whole lives and Tele is doing remarkably well, especially considering his circumstances.

Another interesting thing about this part is that it shows Telemachus', perhaps a bit childish, impatience. He is a kid, who finally met his dad (and his biggest hero), he knows that his mother was suffering and grieving for pretty much his whole life (with things getting a lot worse over the past decade). From Telemachus' perspective Odysseus' return is supposed to solve all their problems, especially since their biggest problem, a.k.a. the suitors, was just taken care of and it wouldn't have happened without Odysseus.

Telemachus just wants a happy family. His dad is back and seems to love him, the suitors are gone, now his parents should reunite, his mother will stop grieving and everything will be perfect. This is something he dreamt of his whole life and it's finally so close, but his mother doesn't immediately believe him. She doesn't immediately accept Odysseus and Telemachus doesn't understand why. He is too preoccupied with wanting things finally to be okay, that he doesn't take time to think about what Penelope must be feeling. It doesn't even occur to him. Perhaps it's also partially the need to be believed and listened to, which is also something he lacked growing up around suitors and being treated as a child, but I'm not diving into that right now.

Odysseus, on the other hand, understands what's going on. He assures his son, that everything will be okay. He pretty much does a more adult version of "mom and dad will take care of this, you go play for a bit". Odysseus understands Penelope's reaction and goes from there. Of course he wants to be in her embrace as soon as possible, but considering everything she has been through, he definitely can't just suddenly grab her and do what he wants. This is his dearly beloved wife and he wants her to take on that role voluntarily, like she did before, he wants her to accept him as her dear husband, like she did before, and for that he has to let her do it at her own pace. He tries to meet her where she's at, to do this reunion on her terms, to assure her, that he is, who he says he is and who others tell her he is.

This is just so amazing and I love their relationship so much (T▿T)♡

I also love Penelope's reaction to Telemachus' words. She doesn't react negatively, she is remarkably calm and part of it is probably the shock from what's happening, but still, she is "well-aware". I think that she knows Telemachus really well, because even though he has surprised her with how much he matured, he's still the same boy, he's still her kid. She most likely understands where Telemachus' outburst is coming from and doesn't get angry, doesn't scold him for his impatience, she reassures him. She lets him know, that he doesn't need to be scared of things falling apart and that she isn't looking to reject Odysseus. She's looking for Odysseus and she hopes she can find him in that familiar and strange man before her. She just needs time, but she will be taking the effort to search for what she's looking for, now that she has a way (she wouldn't have been able to go searching for Odysseus at sea, but now he's, supposedly, right here and she will handle it like the queen that she is).

[apiptosis]

The Fentons might have settled in the middle of bumfuck nowhere but they did have quite the reputation from their crazy antics. It is well known that:

1. Atleast one of the partner pair is always built like a brick shit house.

2. They all have a time period where they pick up a ton of random skills and useless knowledge before settling down on their particular niche.

3. A person of Fenton descent will always fall for the most dangerous person around them.

4. A Fenton will always bounce back from anything. They can die but they cannot be killed by mortal means.

5. They have the bad habit of unconsciously putting themselves in harms way.

The traits mentioned wouldn't have been a problem if the heros found out about them however due to facts 2, 3, 4 and, 5 the Fentons were well known to the villains.

This leads to the situation Danny now found himself in after he tripped off of a rooftop and got hit by a car into a warehouse building.

Picking himself up from the rubble with groan and a crack of his back Danny took stock of his situation. The closest was a pretty lady that vaguely looked familiar along with a few goons and a dude in a bat furry costume with a bunch of people. The youngest was cosplaying a traffic light. A girl with a purple cloak. A girl in black was dressed similarly enough to the bat furry. Etc.

It looked like he interrupted some kind of fight and now they all just stood there uncertain of what to do.

The lady suddenly grabbed him by the collar and yanked his head down to her level as she examined him. "Oh fuck me sideways your a Fenton... If your here then..." She quickly let go of him.

It took Danny half a second before he could place her. "Oh yeah! You are that lady uncle Robby was pinning after, Shiv something."

The cosplayers all looked uncertain and he could feel the concern radiating from them.

"I am Lady Shiva and yes Robert certainly is something. First time I found a man I couldn't kill." The lady, Shiva, a fond look on her face.

"You got any allergies? Mom and dad's 30th anniversary is coming up this November. Just about the whole family is coming." Danny said giving her a piece of paper with the date and location.

"is Alicia going to be there?" Lady Shiva said as she gripped her blades tighter, a predatory smile on her face.

"I did say the *whole* family. Even Gruncle Ra is coming." Danny explained with a shrug.

"Yes!" Shiva exclaimed. "Between you and me I still don't know how Cheetah manages to pull your aunt."

"I try to forget. I just remember that they are banned from 40 countries." Danny said as he shuddered. After a quick glance at his watch he bolted for the hole in the wall. "Oh shit I have to go pick up my sister from Arkham!"

As he ran he distantly heard Lady Shiva yell "I'll be there and call me aunt Shiva!"

[tojicide]

⠀ REMIND ME! ☆ SYLUS.

summary. six months after your breakup with sylus, news broke of you moving on, which is something he simply cannot allow—not if he can help it.

warnings. fem!reader, infidelity, pet names, established history, hair pulling, face sitting, oral ( fem. receiving ), doggy style, missionary, creampie, aftercare. wc. 6.1k.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ✧ masterlist | request

Once news broke the N109 Zone of a prospering romance in his district, Sylus couldn’t find it in himself to give a damn. It was when he heard whispers of your name adjacent to another man’s that he began to listen.

He was out the front door of his home within a second, his leg swinging over his bike before Luke and Kieran could have a say in the matter.

The two men stood side by side, shouting a frantic ‘it’s normal to move on, man!’ and a ‘it’s been six months!’ from the doorstep as they watched their white haired boss speed away.

Sylus was sure that if he gripped the handlebars of his motorcycle any tighter, they’d certainly break off.

If he was willing to harm his most prized possession over the pure frustration you’ve stirred within him, you should consider yourself the most lucky yet damned woman alive.

He liked to think he was headstrong, but when it came to you, he lost all of his sense. All rationale was long forgotten. You consumed him and he gladly let you, because all in all, it truly was a blessing and a curse.

For how much he loved to put the pedal to the metal, he’s never once arrived at your apartment as fast as he has just now. He didn’t even bother to properly leave his bike in between the lines of a parking spot before he was practically flying towards your front door, knocking rapidly until you answered.

Surprise is etched into your facial features as you crack the door open just enough to see who your uninvited guest was, but a strong hand pushed it open until it was agape. “What the fu—”

“Where is he?” he cuts you off with a question, his red eyes scanning your cozy living room like a predator on the prowl.

“Excuse you, I— what? Where is who?” Your questions stammer out as your brain tries to catch up to the scene in front of you.

Sylus forces himself to turn around and face you, realizing that his erratic behavior was likely confusing you. As expressed, his common sense was truly slipping from him. God, he’s missed you, and he absolutely hates the look you’re giving him. It was one that made him feel like a pure inconvenience to you (even though he certainly was behaving like it).

“Your… boyfriend,” he clarifies, almost choking on the word. The fact that the title was no longer his was already a problem in and of itself, but losing it to another man was something he simply could not allow. “Where is he?”

“Oh, I see,” you say, narrowing your eyes at him as you give him a once over. “You think that you’re going to barge into my apartment and pummel the ever living shit out of my boyfriend?”

“More or less,” he answers, his long strides continuing a bit further down your hallway. “Preferably more.”

You scoff, leaning against the wall with your arms crossed tightly over your chest as you watch your ex–boyfriend scope out your apartment that he’s all too familiar with.

“He isn’t here.”

“So I’ve gathered,” he replies, his head poking into your bedroom.

Sylus did his best to sound nonchalant, as aloof as can be, though his heart rate was through the roof. He saw no signs of any male presence—no messily discarded clothes, no misplaced shoes, no second toothbrush in the bathroom—which meant that your relationship wasn’t as serious as he’d imagined.

And boy, was he relieved to figure that much out.

You straighten off the wall as he enters your bedroom, hurriedly walking behind him as you speak, “Y’know, since your objective for coming here can’t be achieved, you are more than welcome to leave.”

“Did I say that was my only objective?” he simply asks, eyes scanning your bedroom.

A bit had changed since he’d last been in here. You changed your comforter to a floral pattern, and you even matched the drapes to the shade of your bedding. Your attention to detail was something he admired about you, and his attention to detail was something you used to love, though as his eyes fell to your open underwear drawer—you’re growing to hate it. A lot.

“Get out of there!” you exclaim, rushing to shove it closed, only to catch his slender finger in the crossfire.

He winces slightly, lifting his already bruising finger to your line of vision. “You’ve wounded me, sweetie. Kiss it better?”

You scoff, slightly pushing his hand away from your face. In any other context, you would have apologized, but given the fact that Sylus had entered your apartment without invitation and threatened to harm your boyfriend within five minutes of his arrival was enough to make you think that this made the two of you almost even.

A small smirk tugs at Sylus’s lips as he presses his finger to his tongue, soothing the stinging that you caused. Your eyes linger on his mouth for a bit longer than they should, and if he noticed (which he certainly did), he didn’t say anything.

“I see you went shopping,” he mumbles, his eyes falling to your now closed underwear drawer. “That’s a shame, baby. A damn shame.”

You can’t help the scoff that leaves your mouth. “Why’s that?”

“I hate the idea of another man seeing what’s mine,” Sylus answers, tilting his head to the side as he gives your body an agonizingly slow once over, “in such pretty fabric, at that.”

Heat rushes to your face at his implication, and you’re not sure if it’s because you’re uncomfortable or if you’re flustered by his forwardness. You figure it’s a mixture of both, but you mask it with an annoyed huff.

“I can do what I want,” you refute, crossing your arms over your chest. “And if what I want is to buy panties that you’ll never have the privilege of seeing me wear, then that’s exactly what I’ll do.”

Sylus clicks his tongue, shaking his head with the slightest smirk curving upwards on his lips. He finds your attitude to be just as adorable as it is frustrating. With the way you look, arms tightly crossed over your chest with the tiniest wrinkle in between your eyebrows, he’d liken you to an angry kitten.

“If you’re trying to rile me up, you’re succeeding,” he states, drumming his fingers on your dresser.

Your eyes flit away. “I’m not trying to do anything. In fact, I want nothing to do with you.”

He scoffs, crossing his arms over his broad chest. It’s the first time he’s looked remotely upset with you from the moment he arrived. “Your boyfriend may fall for this little act of yours, but I won’t.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sylus straightens up, his tall frame towering over you. You almost feel antsy under his gaze, but you do your best to hide it.

“I am what your heart truly desires,” he quietly murmurs, his finger tracing from the middle of your collarbones to the valley of your breasts. “And you can lie to him, you can even lie to yourself—but you cannot lie to me. I can see your deepest desires, remember?”

Betrayal is your body’s first instinct. Your breath hitches in your throat the moment the pad of his index finger runs across your skin, and you physically have to fight off a whine from escaping your lips.

In an attempt to salvage the situation, you straighten up, glancing towards your bedroom door. “That’s… bullshit, Sylus. Get out of my head.”

“It’s nothing of the sort,” he replies with a much gentler tone than the one he possessed prior. “And I’ll do no such thing. Your mind is my favorite place to be.”

He studies his reddened finger for a moment, silently deciding to steer the conversation from its more serious direction. “It still won’t feel better until it gets a kiss from its favorite girl, you know.”

Against your better judgment, your eyes betray you by studying the reddened pad of his finger. It shouldn’t be as enticing of a view as it is. You find it to be almost criminal.

“You can lose that finger for all I care,” you scoff, trying not to remember how good it used to feel inside of you.

“So brash.” Sylus forces a pout on his lips, though it doesn’t last long. He presses a kiss to his own finger before he extends his arm to rest on the edge of your dresser, keeping you caged against your drawers.

“You’re awfully lucky that I’m a forgiving man,” he murmurs, his red eyes trained to yours. “You can do almost anything to me and I’d allow it.”

Judging by the way your expression lights up, that seems to give you an idea.

“Really?” you inquire, narrowing your eyes. “Say, if I punched you square in your face, would you allow it?”

“I’m not opposed to finding out,” he answers, his eyelids fluttering as he continues to drink in your beauty. “You know I love it when you’re rough with me.”

That comment forces a flush to your face, and you almost have to pinch yourself to keep your mind from bringing forward all of the memories that proved just how true that statement was.

It infuriates you how easily he could get a reaction out of you, no less than six months after you broke up with him. Perhaps that was why, in a split second decision (one that you’re hardly aware you’re making), your fist goes flying towards his face.

Sylus firmly stops your wielding hand before it can make contact with his cheek. His fingers unwind your fist and bring your hand close, allowing him to press a few chaste kisses to your knuckles.

“Have I told you how pretty you look today?” he asks, his voice slightly muffled by the kisses he’s peppering along your palm and wrist. “So, so beautiful.”

Only he would say such a thing after you attempted to inflict bodily harm upon him. You wish you could rationalize his behavior, but you can’t—that’s just Sylus.

Your body betrays you in every way, shape, and form. Your face is flushed, your eyes are half lidded, and the mere contact of his lips on your knuckles is enough for butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

Grasping onto the last bit of common sense you have, you pull your hand from his grasp.

“It’s time for you to go,” you insist, beginning to slide against the dresser to escape his gaze.

Sylus allows you to create a bit of distance between the two of you, lifting his arm up from your dresser to let you walk away. The last thing he wants is to make you feel suffocated—the very reason you broke up with him in the first place.

He tried to do better, but when it came to you, he couldn’t help himself. He wasn’t an animal, though. He loved you more than words could ever describe, and he’d allow you anything you wanted. And if physical space was what you wanted, he’d grant it to you.

“You know I’d do anything for you,” he quietly says, his voice carrying an unforeseen vulnerability to it, “but I can’t do what you’re asking of me. I can’t let you give yourself to a man who doesn’t deserve you.”

Your eyebrows raise. “How can you be so sure he doesn’t deserve me?”

“I know you, baby. That’s how.”

A beat of silence passes, and he conjures up the courage to continue. “And I’m positive there isn’t a single soul who could possibly deserve your favor,” Sylus reasons, loosely crossing his arms, his toned biceps showing through the sleeves of his black button–up shirt. “Not even myself. I’m man enough to recognize that.”

His answer catches you off guard, but you do your best to maintain your front. You don’t want him to see how his words seem to squeeze at your heart.

“Then why are you here?” you genuinely ask.

Sylus knows he’s backed himself into a corner, and contrary to what you might think, he’d intended to do just that. He wants you to give him the green light to speak every word that he’s longed to say to you from the moment he’d seen you last, and now that you have, the floodgates are open.

“I’m selfish,” he admits, taking a tentative step towards you. “I’m drunk on you, and I can’t bear the thought of sobering up, even after all this time. It’s unfair, it’s horrible, it’s cruel—I know this, sweetie. But… I find my serenity in your eyes, and with you gone, my life is purgatory. The confines of hell must be more pleasant than what it is that I feel when I’m without you.”

Internally, you’re floored. Gobsmacked, even. Externally, you’re looking at him with the same soft expression you’ve worn this entire time.

Met with your silence, Sylus begins to internally panic. He slowly takes a few steps towards you, and when you don’t attempt to maintain the distance between you, his hands move to cup your face.

“Rid me of this life,” he whispers, his mouth so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath fan across your lips. “I cannot go on, not without you beside me.”

You truly hate how easy it is for him to reduce you to nothing but putty. You have a new boyfriend, you’ve moved on, you’ve allowed the love that you and Sylus shared to be nothing more than history.

You wanted to believe that moving forward was the best thing you could do, but if that was true, why is it that your heart hadn’t felt full until you laid eyes on Sylus? It seems to beat differently, like it’s finally come back to life in his presence.

Noticing the softening of your eyes, Sylus can’t help himself. He leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead, holding both of you there for a few seconds. The sheer tenderness of his action was enough to make you melt, and you were sure you would’ve if his hands on your face weren’t grounding you.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he admits, tilting your head up so that he can look into your eyes.

Sylus was never one for verbal affection (or being desperate for a woman’s favor) prior to you, but he’d make this exception a million times over if it meant he could have you however you’d let him.

You’ve nearly forgotten all of your allegiances, and you can’t even blame yourself for it. You know that indulging in him is like eating a forbidden fruit, and even then, you can’t forbid yourself from its taste—not when you know how sweet it is. What you feel goes beyond want; it’s pure, unadulterated need.

“No response for me?” he asks.

You shake your head, swallowing the growing lump in your throat. You carefully slide out of his grasp and sit on the edge of your bed, his eyes trailing you as you do so.

You’re a firm believer that nothing is real until you’ve said it out loud, Sylus is more than aware of that. He doesn’t want to push you too hard, too fast, too much, but he’s never been one to back down from a challenge.

As you sit, your thighs naturally part and your skirt rides up just a bit, enough for the pink fabric clothing your pussy to be shown. That sight alone was able to elicit behavior that you’ve never once seen from Sylus.

“God, you are a privilege,” he murmurs, taking a few steps towards you. Without hesitation, he slowly descends to his knees before you, his hands trailing up your thighs. “Such a sight,” he adds his eyes flitting to the dampening fabric of your underwear, “such a beautiful sight.”

If his words weren’t enough, the sight of him kneeling in front of you was enough to make you faint. (Or scream. Or cum. Maybe all three at the same time, you’re not sure.)

“Allow me the night,” Sylus pleads, his desperate red eyes finally locking onto yours. His hand moves to brush your hair from your face, tucking it loosely behind your ear. “Just the night. One night to indulge you.”

Lying would be no use, all things considered. He’d already shamelessly eyed the needy area between your thighs, knowing that the arousal collecting there is for him. Your stomach swirls with a mixture of guilt and need, and you honestly feel like you’re in an impossible position.

“Sylus,” you breathe, your heartbeat thumping so hard that you’re surprised your chest hasn’t burst. “This is so wrong.”

He shakes his head as his large, gentle hands move to rest on your knees. “Your pleasure means more to me than a simple case of right and wrong.”

“I wish it was as simple as you make it seem,” you say, a long sigh leaving you.

“Can’t it be?” Sylus questions, his thumbs idly stroking your knees. “Allow me this one night to remind you of how I feel about you, how you feel about me. If you want me to leave you alone by the time morning comes, I will accept that with a smile.”

You’d like to imagine that you’re stronger than this, that the idea of a final night of lovemaking with your ex-boyfriend to get him out of your head for good isn’t appealing—but it is.

It’s something you’ve thought about before (in the dead of night with your hand stuffed down your shorts), but never did you think it could become a reality.

Only now, with him kneeling in front of you, it was.

“Okay,” you sheepishly murmur. “Remind me.”

You know this is absolutely horrible of you to do, but you can’t find the will to deny yourself this. As much as you tried to get Sylus out of your head, you never could. Not long enough for it to make a difference, anyway.

(Perhaps this, a final intimate night between the two of you, will be just what you need to move on for good.)

Sylus knows that his time with you is limited, but he plans to make it the best night of your existence.

(Perhaps if he can remind you of how much he’s willing to give, how much he loves you, how much he’s missed you—you’ll change your mind.)

His large, strong hands trail up as he drapes your legs over his shoulders, pressing a few kisses to your calves and inner thighs. He presses a kiss to the fabric of your underwear, his tongue drawing out to taste the wet spot.

Sylus isn’t sure what’s come over him, but he honestly feels like he’ll either implode or cry at the sight of you right now. To have you again is something he’s dreamt about more than he’d like to admit, and he plans to show you just how much your absence has affected him as his fingers slide beneath your skirt to hook under the thin fabric of your underwear.

“Thank you,” he mutters against your skin, tugging the clothing piece down your legs. “Oh, fuck,” he mutters aloud the moment his eyes land on your heat.

He could seriously cum in his pants right now, and if he’s not careful, he will. His hands lock onto your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the bed to give him better access to your glistening cunt.

“Pussy’s all mine,” he breathes, licking a long stripe up your slit.

You would have replied if he hadn’t buried his face in between your thighs. His tongue laps at your wetness before he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking harshly at it with hollowed cheeks.

A cry leaves your lips at the sensation, your hand gripping onto his white hair as you revel in the feeling his tongue is giving you.

He’s eating you out like a man starved, his own moans rumbling into your cunt, his cock straining against the confines of his pants. Sylus could do this for days if you let him, but after not having you like this for so long, he can’t help himself from needing more.

Within moments, he’s slowly pushing you higher on your bed, still licking at your pussy until he’s physically unable to. He looks up at you with crazed eyes, licking his spit-slick lips as he kicks his shoes off.

“Sit on my face,” he murmurs, moving to lay on your bed. When he’s met with your hesitance, he’s grasping onto your arm to carefully pull you towards him. “I might die without it.”

You’ve never once seen a man so pussy drunk in your entire life, but you’re in absolutely no position to deny him. So, you move to hover above him, your hands resting on your headboard. You hear a satisfied moan beneath you, and he’s soon hooking his arms around your thighs.

“You won’t die without it,” you grumble. “In fact, you might die because of it. Suffocation—”

“Suffocation of this kind might be the best way to go,” he cuts you off, licking a faint swipe against your folds. “In fact, when we’re old and withered, it might be my last ask of you.”

Your face flushes, and you can feel heat rushing to both your cunt and your cheeks. Noticing the coy face you’re making, Sylus can’t help himself from laying a faint smack on your ass, squeezing its plushness as he stares up at you.

“For now, though,” he purrs, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. “I want you to let go for me. Can’t have you dangling this pretty cunt in my face without letting me taste it.”

As you hesitantly begin to relax your thighs and lower on top of him, he lifts his head up to meet you halfway and gather your slick on his tongue.

“Very good, baby,” Sylus purrs, dropping his head back onto your sheets as he pulls your hips down the rest of the way, “now sit.”

When all of your weight crashes down on him, a soft gasp leaves your lips at the sheer passion behind the movements of his tongue. He almost seems to be more incentivized. His eyes flutter shut as he mouths at your pussy, the moans leaving his mouth in combination with the absolute filthy sounds of his tongue are enough to drive you insane.

Sylus feels like he’s finally left purgatory and has transcended into heaven. With his pretty girl on his face, taking her on his tongue, making the most beautiful little noises—he’s honestly never felt better.

(Well, there is that whole new boyfriend thing looming in the back of his mind, but he’s sure that you’ll take care of that once he’s done taking care of you.)

One of your hands leaves the headboard to grasp onto his hair, your eyes screwing shut as you rock your hips over his tongue. “Sylus,” you breathe out through a moan. “I’m— oh, shit—”

Sylus’s cock twitches as you moan his name, his eyes fluttering shut as one of his hands help to guide the rocking of your hips. With his other, he palms himself through his trousers, his mouth working tirelessly to make you feel good.

Even as self-admittedly selfish as he is, he can’t bear the idea of putting his pleasure above your own—even if the ache is physically eating away at him. With you writhing above him, the sounds you’re making, the look on your face, it’s all too much—even for him.

Your mouth lulls open as you let out the most beautiful whine he’s ever heard, and his tongue slows down, working you through your first orgasm of the night. He eagerly collects your juices with his tongue, his eyes rolling back as he finally presses a final kiss to your swollen clit.

“I can stay this way forever,” he says against your inner thigh, placing a kiss to your warm skin, “you and me,” he places another kiss, “together.”

You shift to lay beside him, out of breath and looking beautifully disheveled. Sylus licks his lips and lies starry–eyed beside you. Soon enough, a huff of laughter escaped his throat, realizing he might’ve said too much there.

Sylus turns his head to look at you. “Was that enough to get an ‘I miss you too’ out of that mouth of yours?”

You let out a breathless laugh, your hand running over your face. “No,” you lie.

That was the best orgasm you’ve had since your breakup, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“You’ve developed quite the attitude,” he muses, rolling on top of you. He slots his lips against yours, licking into your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. “That boyfriend of yours must not fuck it out of you like he should,” he adds, the low volume of his voice rumbling against your skin as he kisses along your jaw, “like I can.”

Before you can think twice, you’re lifting your hips against the bulge in his pants, a soft gasp escapes your lips as you feel the very prominent shape of his hardened cock. With a grunt, Sylus pushes your hips down, his fingers brushing against your inner thighs.

“Such a needy little thing,” he chastises, his hand moving to cup your mound. “First you’re insisting I leave, and now you’re hoping I’ll give you my cock. You’re sending me mixed signals here, sweetie.”

You’re seeing stars, and your hand grasps onto his wrist, feeling the way his muscles tense as he begins to toy with your clit.

“I want it,” you whine, your toes curling as the pad of his middle finger circles your entrance, “you’re… you’re being a tease.”

“That’s right,” he whispers, licking a long stripe up your neck. “If you want it bad enough, you’re going to have to prove it, baby.”

Your head tilts to the side as Sylus pulls away from your neck to look down at you. His fingers move to work at the button of your skirt, tugging it down your legs and tossing it onto the floor of your room.

“How?” you ask.

He presses his lips to yours as his hands tug up your shirt, breaking the kiss to carefully pull it over your head. His large hands palm at your breasts, bringing your perked nipples in between his fingers.

“Pick up the phone,” Sylus answers, releasing your breasts to sit up in front of you, his hands moving to undo his belt.

Your curiosity soon turns into something much more lustful as he pulls his trousers and boxers down his thighs. His shirt goes next, the articles of clothing decorating your floor. His cock looks even better than you remember, but he snaps his fingers in front of your face to gather your attention.

“Sorry, what?” you ask, shaking your head to snap yourself out of your trance.

“Pick up the phone,” he repeats, reaching to your bedside table to hand you your cell.

You take the device from him, looking at it with confusion. You were embarrassed that you hadn’t even noticed it ringing, far too distracted by the sight of him stroking his hand along his length, but your embarrassment soon turns into dread as you read the caller ID.

It is, of course, none other than your boyfriend.

“Sylus, that’s— that’s crazy,” you stammer out, looking between his eyes, his dick, and your phone.

He snickers, flipping you onto your stomach. His hands grasp onto the plush of your hips to pull your ass up. “What’s crazy is the fact that you expect me to fuck you without your boyfriend’s knowledge.”

“You’re above adultery?” you gasp out.

Sylus shakes his head, his hand moving to prod your entrance with the tip of his cock, his other hand grasping onto your hair to pull you back against his chest.

“Obviously not,” he replies, licking along the shell of your ear. “Just want to show him how beneath it you are.”

Your heart slams against your chest as he takes the device from you and answers the call, holding the phone to your ear.

“Let him hear,” he purrs, slowly pushing his cock inside of you. “The noises you make with my cock buried inside you are such a prize. It’d be a disservice to not share.”

A sharp whine leaves your lips as he tugs on your hair, tilting your head to give himself better access to your neck as he bottoms out inside of you. “Tell him what you’re up to, sweetie,” he simply says, sucking a faint mark onto your neck.

On the other end of the line, your partner begins to blab on about his day, though you’re hardly able to listen, not when Sylus is pushing his cock inside of you like a madman. Your body tenses as he stretches you out, the sensation forcing a moan out of your mouth, though the man on the other end of the line didn’t seem to notice.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispers, resting his chin on the crook of your shoulder to press an open-mouthed kiss to your jaw, “taking my cock so nicely. Missed this pussy so much.”

“—so then, I told him… wait. Are you with someone?”

Your heart rate skyrockets as Sylus draws his hips back only to pound the length of his cock inside of you. “Oh, fuck… y-yes,” you choke into the phone, almost breathless.

“Thank you for your confession, my dear,” Sylus teasingly remarks, knowing that your response was a reaction to how good he feels inside of you rather than an answer to your boyfriend’s question.

He presses a faint kiss to your shoulder as he thrusts into you again, using his grip on your hair to push you back onto your stomach. A hand smoothes over the curve of your back, his long fingers hooking around the plush of your hip to remind you that he’s still present despite the situation. He then brings the phone to his own ear, watching with a wide grin as you arch your back to take as much of his cock as you can.

“Our friend can’t talk right now,” he says into the receiver, grunting as your walls clench around him. “She’s gotten lost and found herself on my cock, which is such a positive turn of events, let me tell you,” the pace of his hips thrusting into you only seems to get more intense with each word he says, “considering it’s right where she belongs.”

“W-what? Who the fuck are you? I—”

“I can’t stay on the line to talk much either,” Sylus continues, his free hand grasping a bit tighter onto your hair as he tugs on it to fuck deeper and harder inside of you, his skin slapping against yours with each heavy thrust. “Have to make her cum for all the times you couldn’t.”

You’re lost in a whirlwind of sensations, your mouth gaped open as you moan out with each thrust he makes, your back arched as much as you could make it. You can feel a pool of warmth building inside of your lower stomach, and you let out a cry of pleasure.

You haven’t been fucked this good in, well… six months. That much is obvious to the both of you, given the way you’ve been losing your mind with each forceful push of his hips. He knows your body in ways you’ll never understand, and luckily for you, you don’t need to understand in order to receive the pleasure that he’s desperately trying to give you.

“Sylus!” you gasp out, serving as a warning for how close you already are.

“Mm, I have to go, duty calls,” Sylus says into the phone, releasing his grip on your hair to move his hand between your legs, two of his fingers circling your clit. “Call my woman again and I’ll kill you.”

Tapping the screen to end the call, he tosses your phone mindlessly, and it’s only when you hear it drop against the floor do you turn around to look at him.

“Sylus!” you scold.

He gives you a wry smile as he slowly pulls out of you, rolling you onto your back. “I’ll buy you a new one, pretty. Don’t worry.”

You open your mouth to protest, but when he slowly pushes his cock inside of you again, you’re hardly in the protesting mood at all.

Sylus towers over you, his forearm propping him up as he slowly fucks into you, his red eyes trained to yours. “God, baby, I’ve missed you.”

Almost instinctively, your hands wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to you. There was a hidden intimacy of this position that you’ve always loved. He obliges to your request, resting his forehead on yours as he thrusts harder inside of you.

“You take me so well,” he whispers, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “So, so beautifully.”

You mewl at the softness of his praise, your eyes glossing over as he continues to fuck you into oblivion, your walls tensing around him. He hisses at the feeling, dipping his head to press a kiss on your cheek.

He can tell that you’re close, and he knows just what you need. He won’t give it to you so easily, though.

“Sweetie?” he breathes out.

You nod your head before breathlessly replying, “yeah?”

Sylus gives you a smirk as he raises his bruised finger to your lips. “Kiss it better. Let me use it on you.”

Protest is not on your agenda anymore, not by a long shot. You kiss the pad of his finger without hesitation, and you proceed to capture it with your mouth, your tongue soothing the bruising.

He smiles at the sight, a groan leaving his lips as he continues to thrust his cock inside of you. “So pretty, baby. God, you’re beautiful.”

Sylus retracts his finger from your mouth to bring it to your clit, his spit-slick finger rubbing it in beautiful, moan-earning circles. He watches as your eyes almost immediately haze over at the stimulation.

He lowers his head to suck on your nipple, his free hand palming at your other breast as means of stimulating you in any way he can. After a moment, he latches onto your other breast, his tongue swirling around the hardened peak.

“God, ah— Sylus!” you moan, your hands wrapping around his neck.

He nips at your breast before he pulls away, a guttural moan leaving his mouth as he feels you clench around his cock. “Going to come for me again, beautiful?”

You nod your head, rising up from the pillow to press a kiss on his lips, and his large hand moves to cup the back of your head as he kisses you through your orgasm. His fingers gently thread through your hair, giving you the best of both worlds.

“Cream my cock, baby. It’s all yours, always will be,” he mutters against your lips, his thrusts growing slower as he twitches inside of you.

Sylus breaks the kiss to look down at you, a heavy pant leaving him. “Where do you want me?” he breathlessly asks.

As if that were a question you ever responded differently to, he still needed to ask, even though you answered just the same. “In… in me.”

He nods his head as he thrusts inside of you a few more times, pressing an open-mouthed kiss on your cheek as he bottoms out inside of you, stuffing you full of his thick, white cum.

A moment passes in which the two of you simply pant breathlessly to each other, your sweaty foreheads pressed together. It was a beautiful scene by all measures.

“I missed you too,” you finally pant out, a smile breaking your lips. “I missed you a lot.”

He chuckles breathlessly at that. “I missed you even more, sweetie.”

Sylus presses a soft kiss on your cheek before he slowly pulls out of you, traveling slowly to your bathroom before returning with a damp towel. He settles in front of you again, using the warm towel to gently clean up the mess he’s made of you between your legs.

You stare at him with the most lovestruck eyes he’s ever seen, and it only makes him smile. “You tired, baby?” he lowly asks.

Nodding your head, you extend your arms to him, and he pulls you in without question. He lies down on his back, holding you against his chest. His large hand runs over your back while the other one tugs your blankets over the both of you, giving you a bit of warmth.

Not that he needed anything more than your presence. He feels like he’s on cloud nine, holding the woman that he loves, running his fingers over her hair just as he used to.

“I love you,” he murmurs into your ear, pressing a soft kiss on the top of your head. It’s almost concerning how much he loves you, but he can’t help it.

“I love you,” you lazily return the sentiment.

As you cuddle into his chest, you can’t help but wonder what would have happened if he hadn’t shown up today, if he’d left you alone, if he let you move on.

You know it’s crazy to think about.

After all, it’s Sylus. Your Sylus. He’s the only person you’ve ever needed, and now that he’s reminded you of that, you won’t forget it.

note. thank you for reading! please interact if you enjoyed!! <3 i don’t even know what the hell this is—we have possessive, dominant, and soft sylus in one go. but hey, it works for me, so i hope it works for you. pls pls pls give me ideas to write more for this sexy man—i never get tired of him!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ✧ masterlist | request

[r3ynah]

DANNY NO—

Despite popular opinion, Danny and Paulina did become good friends after graduation, with Paulina not going to college but instead becoming a famous model and actor loved and adored by everyone in Metropolis, and Danny being able to study Aerospace engineering at Gotham passing with flying colors a real contrast when they were in junior high and while also interning at Wayne Enterprises, and it was working unbelievable well for the both of them.

They would try to meet up once a month, with being miles away from their hometown Danny was the only person she could rely on when something went downhill, they floated towards each other in search of any sort of comfort and normality—well what they consider normal that is.

They would pick between Gotham or Metropolis just to meet in a cafe and just chat about anything, Paulina asks about Sam and Tucker, but mostly Sam (the both of them had enemies to friends to lovers to enemies phase and no one can change my mind bout that, and the both of them are still yearning for each other).

after all these years she sees Danny more as a brother rather than a dorky weirdo who is uncharacteristically obsessed with space, but she loves him—but don't tell him that, and Danny also loves and sees Paulina as family, he knows that even when she complains about how he dresses she will always be there to accompany him shopping( with the excuse that'll she'll die if she's seen by anybody near him, in her words she said that he looked like he dressed himself in the dark, which is fair) and keeping him sane by forcing him to sleep when Tucker, Sam, and Jazz were too busy with their jobs and studies.

Most importantly Danny is there to protect her, sometimes she even offers to pay Danny to be her Bodyguard at galas which he refuses, this is also the reason why she sometimes gets protective of Danny, because if you won't let her pay then she'll just do the same but tenfold— she knows Danny can protect himself but the amount of time she gets emergency calls from the man when he gets injured by the GIW really puts her off.

And it certainly doesn't help when one of there meet ups at Gotham, vigilantes seemed to be around every corner and overly nosy 'civilians' who at first she thought they were there for her, well they did use her as an excuse to get close with the request of signing an autograph but she knew better.

with the way their gaze are fixed on Danny, and their stances always stiff like they're prepared to attack if the skinny man in front of her pick up a butter knife, this was the same in metropolis it bothered her that they were eyeing her friend with such skeptical stares, but at least she knew that the heroes that resides in metropolis won't do anything rash after all, she is famous and with one bad tweet of them from her on twitter she can definitely turn half of the population against them.

But in Gotham? she doesn't really know how the people and economy work, she has supporters there she knew that but they weren't so keen on turning their backs on their vigilantes which were the only ones that really tried protecting them, she's just an actress from another city she knew that she won't have the upper hand here, so she just keeps her head low and make sure that Danny is safe and doesn't get harmed.

It's not like Danny is some sort of rogue, yes his parents are mad scientist and all— but Danny knows better than to follow their steps, for Ancients sake Danny was the beloved vigilante of Amity Park he was there when it all went bad, when no one was there to save them he was there, he was the hope of their town—their god.

So she will rain hell upon earth if ever one of the people that named themselves 'heroes' try to lay a finger on Danny— Fuck her reputation she couldn't care less.

So why? Just Why did he get the attention of vigilantes? and the bats nonetheless, she couldn't keep her curiosity at bay, so she asks.

"Oh them? well, I kinda made my way to their watchlist when I decided to pass my half-assed research all about: 'travelling different alternate universes with the usage of Lazarus waters' " he causally uttered as he picked off the cherry tomatoes out of his plate and onto Paulina's

"did you know ectoplasm here is more commonly known as Lazarus waters? cause I didn't, and when I tried to research more about it online I was stopped by a fire wall, which was embarrassingly easy to get through, and you know what was more embarrassing? it wasn't even worth it, the collected data I gathered was not even 1/4 of the things my parents researched, and I'm speaking about the scientifically correct things"

WHat. Paulina looked at him speechless, "Danny no…"

"Danny, yes.." he cheekily answered, amused by Paulina's stunned face "Boy— you better be joking because I will actually call Jazz"

"Please don't—" poor Danny he looked like he was one second away from passing out and sleeping on the table, who knew being watched by vigilantes has a much bigger toll on his body than when he died.

A/N: Oh noo… Danny being seen as a god by overprotective and devoted Amity Parkers, Oh no…. Guys— I didn't know what happened i was just listening to random things and then Hozier started playing, and now we have this.

[great-and-small]

Speaking of breed standards, would you be able to give me some context on what the heck is up with the German Shepherd "stack"? I see a lot of GSD owners saying it's breed standard and therefore fine, but the slant looks so extreme in some dogs that I have some skepticism about it (and also because, of course, breed standards have nothing to do with animal health).

This is a pretty hot button issue and you’re right that there is a ton of bickering back and forth about it online. I’m happy to share my thoughts, but keep in mind that as a veterinarian I am biased towards function over form. I care way more about if a dog can do the things it wants/needs to do than how it looks. I won’t get into it here but I actually have real qualms with the distinction between “working line” and “show line” in some breeds.

My quick takeaway opinion- There are several orthopedic issues in the German Shepherd dog (specifically show lines) that have likely been exacerbated if not entirely caused by breeders striving for the classic “sloped back” look that is considered breed standard.

Now that being said, it is a fact that the three point stack (how a dog is positioned when standing) greatly exaggerates the angulation of the back and hind legs. You will often see comparison images like this one that show a dog in stack versus standing square and you can clearly see the top line looks more sloped when the dog is stacked. This image is from a GSD subreddit, a pretty dog here nicely demonstrating how the stance can change the appearance of the top line.

This phenomenon is what certain hardline GSD breed standard loyalists will point to when discussing this issue. They posit that the sloped back is essentially an optical illusion caused by aesthetic posing, and therefore a German Shepherd is no more prone to orthopedic problems than any other large breed dog. This is where I disagree.

You can easily find stark examples of a poorly put together dog in any breed or mixed breed out there, so when discussing my concerns with the GSD I will only use photos of titled dogs that are accomplished within the show ring. These are not random backyard bred shepherds, but champion dogs from acclaimed lines that will almost certainly be bred to pass on their genes. When breed clubs like the AKC award these dogs as exemplars of the breed, they tacitly endorse the conformation issues I’m about to discuss. So my beef is not with German shepherds or dog breeds in general, but specifically with breed clubs that refuse to examine whether their standard harms animals. An important disclaimer, not every breed club is like this and many take health concerns extremely seriously.

Dogs have a very different limb anatomy and gait to humans and a healthy dog is meant to walk on their paw pads. The “ankle” or hock should be upright and angled as you can see here in this nice-looking champion shepherd from 1902.

German shepherds can sometimes have a problem that is colloquially called “dropped hocks” where that joint is abnormally loose and in more serious cases can even be touching the ground, which is completely abnormal and something I would consider a serious physical flaw. A dog having dropped hocks/tarsal hyperflexion like this is proven to cause medical issues for these dog, but unfortunately the sinking joints also help to give the dog that “classic” sloping look that breed clubs love.

This dog “Ch Kysarah's Pot of Gold” won best of breed at the National dog show in 2015. You can see his hock is literally flat on the ground even when not stacked

And it’s not just one dog. Here is another champion dog (Cruaghaire Catoria), who got some controversy for winning best of breed at Crufts in 2016 despite an extremely abnormal gait.

Perhaps we could excuse the low hocks when the dog is standing as being the result of the stack, but it is glaringly obvious when she moves that this is no trick of her positioning. Her entire tarsus rests on the floor as she runs and in close ups you can even see bald patches there to suggest this is a “normal” gait for her. In this video, the announcers agree that this is the ideal gait for a shepherd. If I saw this gait in a friend’s dog I’d politely express my concerns for long term mobility issues and recommend an orthopedic consultation. To see it win best of breed is galling to say the least.

And lest you think the problem has been solved, here’s another from the National Dog Show in 2023

None of these dogs could charge athletically into a field and effectively herd sheep. If we are prioritizing aesthetic over function to the degree that a dog cannot do what it was bred to do, or more importantly that it cannot do the simple things that dogs love to do, then we have veered unforgivably off course. Not to put too fine a point on it but what the fuck is the point of a breed standard if it impedes the dog’s function in any way? We have no right. German shepherds are an incredible breed of dog that have stood by us humans in some of our darkest moments; I think the breeders and kennel clubs who claim to love them the most should work harder to ensure the “champion” dogs they are producing can live long pain-free lives. If we have to adjust our notion of what the breed is “supposed” to look like then so fucking be it.

This is too long already so I’m not getting into hip dysplasia, DM, carpal laxity, elbow dysplasia or other conditions that exist in the breed. If German shepherd clubs want to distance themselves from the notion that their breed standard is causing problems with canine health then they will need to stop publicly lavishing awards on dogs with medically concerning gait issues and start focusing on breeding dogs that can run around a ring without causing even the most casual of onlookers to realize “something’s not right there”

[obsessedwithceleste]

Til It’s Gone

Theodore Nott x reader

Based on this cute lil request 🤗

Summary: It seemed like they’d always been there. An ever-growing thorn in Theodore’s side. He really didn’t realize what he’d had until it was gone. (Happy ending I swear)

word count: 3.2k

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

Theo let out a heavy sigh as he slumped into his seat, ignoring the cheery smile on your face as you turned to face him.

“Hi Theodore!” You chirped brightly, gaze landing on the tall brunette boy coming to sit next to you.

Salazar, here we go, Theo thought bitterly.

“Theo.”

“Right. Theo. How was your day?” You continued on, seemingly oblivious to his indifference as you scribbled mindlessly on your parchment.

Theodore wasn’t stupid. Quite the opposite in fact. He knew you liked him. That much you’d made rather obvious. Especially as of late. If saving him a seat everyday in this miserable class didn’t make it clear to everyone that you had a certain affection for the boy, then the notes dropped in his bag, or kisses blown from across the Great Hall certainly did.

The only reason Theo even accepted sitting next to you was because the seat was positioned perfectly to be just outside of Professor Binns’ field of vision, saving him the work of pretending to care about whatever topic the professor was rattling on about.

“I don’t see why you even put up with it all,” Mattheo often said. “Just reject them and move on with it.”

“Or at least stop sitting with them. You’re only encouraging them,” Enzo would add.

Yet, here he was, still sat lazily in the seat next to you. Theo didn’t particularly care that you fancied him to be quite honest. He’d gotten used to the same pattern of stoically ignoring your chatter, copying your carefully organized notes, and leaving. So long as you weren’t too annoying, he didn’t see the harm in sticking around. Besides it’s not like you weren’t easy on the eyes. And he supposed there was something to be said about the confidence with which you acted that set you apart from the general hoard of girls harboring similar feelings.

“Theo?”

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts as he glances at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Fine.” He replied tersely before turning once more to stare blankly ahead.

He’d changed his mind. Absolutely not. This was horrible. At this point, Theo wasn’t even sure if you actually liked him, or were only claiming you did as an excuse to see how much you could embarrass him.

“Mate, this is getting to be Weaselette levels of weird,” Draco said as their group stared in horror at the third year who had approached them warily in the halls with a poem to read aloud in hand.

Theo visibly shuddered, remembering the awful valentine the youngest Weasley had sent Saint Potter a few years prior.

“Save everyone the embarrassment and walk away now, kid,” Draco told the boy. “Go on. Scram.”

The third year didn’t need to be told twice and quickly darted off, away from the group of Slytherin boys.

“It isn’t even 8am mate. Where does that girl get the time to do all this?” Enzo grumbles as they made their way into the Great Hall for breakfast.

Theo simply ignores his friend’s comments, something he was getting used to doing, as they all sat down at their usual table.

They’d all seemed to have an opinion on you as soon as it became apparent that you had developed a crush on him, and Theo had just about had enough of his friend’s seemingly endless comments regarding his not so secret admirer.

The familiar small parcel tied neatly with a white ribbon that sat waiting for Theodore in his usual spot didn’t go unnoticed, starting the whole thing up again.

“For Salazar’s sake Theo, do you not find it creepy?” Draco asks, eyeing the package.

Theo rolled his eyes at his dramatic friend.

“I don’t care. You all seem to be more interested in y/n’s little stunts than I am, and I’m the one they’re intended for. They’re harmless. Just leave it and they’ll probably get bored eventually.”

“Yeah, or they’ll just keep it up thinking you’re playing all hard to get or what not,” Mattheo snorts.

Theo just glares at his friend, stabbing a sausage with his fork. Just behind Matt’s head, seated at a table with your own friends, Theo sees you blow a kiss his way, winking cheekily.

“Aw, they growing on you? Who would’ve thought dark and broody would be into a bloody ray of sunshine” Mattheo teases, earning him a sharp kick from under the table.

“Morning Theodore,” you greet, as the brooding boy once again took his seat beside you, this time in potions.

“It’s Theo.”

“That’s what I said.”

You hear the boy let out a small snort and you smile to yourself. That was one of the biggest reactions you’d been able to get out of the boy.

Your friends often wondered why you so insistently pursued the grumpy Slytherin boy, despite his general apathy towards you, and honestly, it was as simple as the fact that you enjoyed the challenge.

It was like your own little game of cat and mouse. Constantly finding little ways to make the boy smile, even if he didn’t realize it was you. And the rush of excitement you got anytime you were able to elicit any sort of reaction from the boy was like a drug that kept you coming back for more.

You’d found that the best way to elicit such reactions was by staging little acts of public affection whether it be a kiss sent his way or an origami note perched on his desk. Each time, you could see the heat rise softly in the boy’s cheeks as he tried desperately to keep it at bay, sometimes even fighting back a small smile.

Today you had come to class a bit early in order to set up both you and Theo’s potion stations before the brown haired Slytherin arrived, taking extra care to gather enough ingredients for each of your potions. You weren’t even sure he realized that you were doing all this for him, but watching his satisfied smile as he brewed away made it worth it.

That was another thing you had grown to appreciate about the boy. While his friends were all rather light-minded and rowdy, his wit and level-headedness balanced out the group. Theo was smart, and didn't feel the need to make a point about it, flying under the radar of many of your classmates when it came to who had the best marks. Sure it was fun to tease the boy, but you also had a certain admiration for him that went deeper then the nonserious way you often conducted yourself around him.

The rest of the class passed in a sort of agreed upon silence as you worked on your potions. Of course you’d like to talk to Theo a bit, but you’d found he’d preferred the silence, usually not uttering more than a few words to you per class. It was something you could work on eventually you supposed.

“See you later Theodore,” you said brightly once you had finished gathering up your things. Joining your group of friends, you toss one last wave over your shoulder at the boy, smiling to yourself. He hadn’t bothered to correct you for once.

The last thing Theo expected while roaming the dusty shelves of the library was to hear his own name being whispered from deeper within the maze of books he was searching through. The library was where he went to escape his friend’s incessant gossip about the rest of the school’s population, yet he was interested in what was being said about him. He didn’t often venture outside his usual group of Slytherins, so he didn’t know exactly what he expected to hear.

Following the loud whispers, Theo stopped, looming in the shadows once he was able to make out the dark figures of students huddled in one of the many rows of books.

“Sure Theo might be one of the most attractive boys in our year, but his head is so far up his own arse, it’s a wonder he can see straight.” A voice practically snarled as its owner leaned lazily against one of the shelves.

Theo felt himself immediately tense. Is that what they thought now? His fists clenched as he refrained from crashing through the shelves to give these snots a piece of his mind.

“Honestly, being an arrogant prick isn’t something to be proud of. He’s just like every other Slytherin who makes being a pure blood their only personality trait.” Another voice adds.

“Oh fuck off you two.”

Theo’s ears perk up, surprised to hear your voice join the chatter.

“Please, like you’re one to talk y/n. You’re practically blinded by desperation. Theo Nott is an utter prat and he treats you like shit. Have some bloody self respect.”

“I’m not desperate, you git. And Theodore isn’t an arrogant prick. There’s nothing wrong with having a little bit of pride. It’s not like you see him going around bragging about how amazing he is. If you’re going to talk about arrogant pricks, talk about Cormac. Or Draco even.”

“Whatever. That still doesn’t excuse his behavior towards you. I don’t understand why you insist on embarrassing yourself when he clearly has no interest in you. But he’s too much of a coward to say anything.”

“Oh for the love of- Theodore doesn’t owe anyone anything. Me included. I do the things I do because I can and I want to, and quite frankly it isn’t anyone else’s business but my own. So why don’t you two get your heads out of your own arses and stop worrying about me, and stop worrying about Theodore.”

With that, Theo listened as your footsteps slowly got quieter as you stomped away, your words ringing in his head.

Theo had never been in love before. But in that moment, he was beginning to see the appeal. Fuck that was hot as hell.

For Theo, it all spiraled down from there as he finally began to see you. Really see you. And not just as someone who had a silly crush on him.

It started with the notes. He hadn’t noticed before, but it wasn’t just him that you’d slip a note to in the hallway. After one particularly difficult transfiguration exam, Theo watched as you dropped a note with a chocolate candy attached into the bags of your friends.

Another day, he arrived to potions early to find you carefully setting up his station as he hovered in the doorway. After class, he didn’t rush out like he normally would and instead watched as you quietly slipped an extra copy of your notes to a student he knew struggled with the class.

And while you weren’t exactly blowing kisses to all of your friends across the Great Hall, Theo began to notice the way you didn’t hesitate to throw your arms around your friends, hugging them tightly when you got excited. Or grasping onto a hand as you wandered through Hogsmeade, arms swinging in carefree bliss.

It was about a month after Theo had begun his silent observations that he began to feel it. The slow pull away as your presence began to fade from his life. He almost didn’t notice at first. It had been about a week since he’d last found a note in his bag, or parcel waiting for him on his seat. You still smiled brightly at him if your eyes met from across the Great Hall, but now that he thought about it, Theo couldn’t remember the last time you’d blown a kiss his way.

It all came to a head the day Theo walked into History of Magic to see one of your friends sitting next to you in his usual seat, chattering away.

“Nice mate, they finally get the message?” Mattheo asks with a grin, elbowing him in the ribs.

Theo remained silent as he followed his friend to a seat in the back, eyes not leaving the spot where he should be sitting.

It continued on like this for what Theo thought was eternity. Salazar he missed you. Weeks passed filled with sleepless nights where he would stare at the ceiling contemplating where he had gone wrong. At the very beginning really, he thought dryly, remembering his initial feelings of agitation and annoyance. He wished he could go back and give himself a good smack upside the head.

The day Theo passed you in the hall and you didn’t even spare him a passing glance was the day Theo finally broke.

“Lorenzo.” He said, slamming the door of their dormitory open, startling his roommate.

“Theodore?”

Theo glares at the use of the name.

“You’re the romantic type. How do I do it?” Theo asked as he stomped his way over to his bed.

With a bemused look, Enzo swings around to look at his roommate, wondering if one of the ghosts had somehow possessed him.

“You want to know. How to do romance?” Enzo asks slowly, not fully believing he’d heard his friend correctly. Theo was probably one of the most emotionally detached people he’d ever met.

“Yes. Y/n. I want to make it up to them.”

"I thought we didn't like them?" Enzo said, growing more concerned for his friend's mental state by the minute.

"We didn't. But now we do, and I want to make things right."

Enzo blinked. Oh this was not going to be easy.

As you sat in the court yard with a group of your friends, textbooks in hand as you attempted to study for the charms test the next day, your eyes flickered momentarily as a sea of green wandered by. Quickly you look away before your eyes could meet Theo’s and you try to turn your attention back to your friend’s idle chatter.

It had been what? A month since you’d stopped actively seeking out the boy’s attention. Maybe more. And you missed him. His sarcastic smiles and pretty eyes that seemed to be fixed in a permanent glare.

But you were also tired. Mostly tired of the snarky comments. “Have some self respect.” “So desperate.” The voices of your classmates echoed in your head, and eventually you began to draw back. You knew he’d noticed. You’d seen his eyebrows furrow in confusion that day you’d let your friend sit beside you in class. A pang of guilt washing over you. But it’s not like he showed any signs of wanting things to go back to the way they were. So you simply stayed away. Maybe that’s what he’d wanted all along.

Your thoughts followed you as you eventually made your way back to your dormitory, wanting nothing more than to wrap yourself up in a warm blanket and disappear. As you approach your bed however, you make out something that definitely wasn’t there when you’d left that morning. A gorgeous bouquet of little white flowers wrapped in thick brown paper, tied off with a silky emerald green ribbon. Stamped on the corner of one of the brown folds, the letters TN shown at you in gold curls.

“Oh those are beautiful!” Your roommate gasps when they see the flowers. “Lily of the valley! Those can symbolize renewal ya know. Usually they’re given as like, an apology of sorts, or if someone wants to start over.” they tell you. Ever the herbology buff. “Who are they from?”

A smile grows on your lips as her words sink in and you press the flowers close to your chest.

“Just a special friend,” you reply.

After all the months of Theo's coldness towards you, you'd never quite allowed yourself to truly believe the boy would ever return your affection, but maybe things were beginning to look up.

Over the course of the next several days, you begin to notice little things that had Theodore’s name written all over them.

After the charms exam the following day, you find a note of encouragement written in Theo’s familiar scrawl dropped in your bag along with a bag of your favorite toffees. How he’d managed to get it there without you noticing was beyond you.

There were little things too. Your stations in herbology and astronomy were always set up and waiting for you when you walked into class. The book on ancient runes that you’d been searching for showed up on your bedside table. (You weren’t sure how he was doing that either, but you weren’t about to question it.) And there always seemed to be a comfortable smirk on Theodore’s face whenever your eyes wandered over to where he sat with his friends, eyes seemingly boring into you.

Now, you sat quietly in your own little nook of the library, quill in hand as you scribbled away at your ancient runes essay, the book Theo left you being quite helpful.

You were happy he'd found his way back into your life, happier still that he was actually making a point to be included in your life.

“You don’t mind do you?” A voice asks, startling you and causing ink to splatter against the parchment.

With shocked eyes, you look up to see Theodore standing next your table as if your thoughts had summoned him there. He sets his books down, frowning at your now ruined paper.

With a flick of his wand, the mess is gone.

“Sorry bout that,” he mutters, sitting down across from you.

You blink, not entirely convinced you’re not hallucinating.

“You know, I remember you being much more talkative,” he says, a sly smirk reaching across his face as you realize you’ve yet to say anything to the boy.

“I remember you being significantly less talkative,” you blurt out before quickly covering your mouth with your hand in horror.

To your relief, the boy in front of you lets out a low laugh.

"Fair enough. See you've been liking the book," he says, gesturing towards the open text.

"Oh yeah, I've been meaning to say something, thank you."

"Don't worry bout it. I never said thank you for all the things you did. Probably should've." He replies, looking down as he pulls out his own quill and parchment. "I am sorry by the way."

"For?" You ask, head tilting to the side in curiosity.

"Everything. Or for doing nothing is probably more accurate," he says, flipping open his text book.

You can tell that he's nervous as he fidgets with the corners of the book's pages, and you desperately want to ease the tension between the two of you.

A moment of silence passes between the two of you as you debate whether or not to say anything more, or go back to your essay. Finally, you look up at the boy that you had been chasing after for all these months, and remind yourself that he had actually been the one to go through all the trouble of seeking you out tonight.

Gathering your courage, you open your mouth to speak. "Theodore?"

"Yes, love?" he replies, eyes carefully following the lines of text.

"Would you like to join me in Hogsmeade this weekend?"

His eyes snap up at this, and you see the familiar hint of red make it's way into his cheeks once more.

"Only if I can have my seat back in History of Magic." The boy replies.

"I think I can have that arranged."

Hi hi hi! I hope this lives up to all of your hopes and dreams, anon 🫶🏽

[glitchy1938]

💥 anon here, that was lovely!!!! Sorry if I’ve been spamming your inbox, I’ve got lots of little ideas floating in my head

could you maybe write something with a reader who was cursed into solitude, like anything living they touch turns to ash and isolated themself. Maybe they were a hero with the beasts, and when the beasts corrupted they got cursed by the witches and went into hiding cause they didn’t wanna hurt anyone. You could do something with the beasts being the only ones they can touch without posing danger to

The Witches Curse....

[Beast Cookie's x Cursed reader]

Hatred.... That's was all you felt about the witches... All if this was there fault... You are-... Were a hero once.... But now... You were a monster.... You couldn't touch anything...

If you do, they immediately turn into ash... You had once the power of life, anything that you touch and was about to die you give them life.... But now, now it's the opposite.... You hide yourself from anyone, not wanting to harm of kill anyone.... You isolated yourself in a old temple.... You missed your friends... The Ancients (Beasts), they were your friends... And yet, darkness consumed them one by one because of the Witches, just like you..

You remember this day too well, the day when the witches trapped them and cursed you right infront of them... It wasn't just a cursed they gave you... But the PAIN you felt when they ARRACHED from your chest your Soul Jam as a punishment.... It was like any pain you felt before.... And it's still hurt... You couldn't imagine they'll be so cruel...

You still missed your friends... Shadow Milk, Burning Spice, Mystic Flour, Eternal Sugar, Silence Salt... Louna... You sometimes wish if they missed you... Maybe, after their corruption, don't care anymore... Oooh that's where your wrong, dear friend.

After they got free from the Silver Tree, the first thing they thought of was you, they couldn't just ignore how much you gives to help them, and they certainly HATE those Witches for what they did to you. After months of searching it was Eternal Sugar and Shadow Milk who found you first, they were so relieved that you still alive after all those years, but they also got worried when you told them not to touch you, Eternal Sugar didn't listen and hugged you to give you comfort. You were terrified that you'll turn her into ash, but suprisetly she didn't and you start to break down after so long of loneliness.... You can feel again their warm hug.... After them, the other Beasts found you too, you told them your cursed to why you didn't want to touch them, and you didn't know how they didn't die, Shadow Milk said that it's probably do to their powers or something, but they promised to never leave you alone again.

[And now, how is life with each of them, to explain : you stay 1 or 2 weeks with one in their place and how it is like/how they treat you while there]

Shadow Milk Cookie

• Ahh~ the Master Off Deceit, this one just LOVE using puppets, asham you can touch things to join him making some.

• He's the clingy one of all the other Beasts (With Eternal Sugar), when he want to hug you he WILL hug you, by surprise or not.

•He's also a big teaser, he love embarrassing you when he can, but he know he have limite and he doesn't cross it.

• He love tapping about anything he like, his plans, his dreams, his team, anything and everything, but he will listen to you with big hears, he want YOUR opinion, and he's not going to make lies to you. Never..

"Oh ho Dearest/Dear, your first Puppet looks GREAT !! See ? I told you you can make your own even with this cursed of yours~"

• He attempted to make gloves to stop your curse so that you can touch other things, but it didn't work as not even a second you touch that to put them on, they turned into ash, btj he didn't give up ! He will find a way !

• Speaking of his team, Candy apple Cookie, us a really special one, she really want to touch you or hug you out of excitement after you two play or you helped her with a trap to other foolish cookies, but you always dodge it and reminding her your cursed... She just pound sadly, but still can talk happely to you

• As for Black Saphire Cookie, just like his master, he like telling you the new secrets he found about other cookies, or listen to music with you, he doesn't touch you for pure messures, but he's a good listener to when you need to talk to..

• Comforting is not always his best thing, not like before but that doesn't mean hens not trying, when he see you cry in bed or you just having a bad day, he'll just cradle in bed with you while you snuggle on him, he'll tell you jokes to cheer you up. He doesn't want his favourite cookie all sad again... It'll break his heart...

Burning Spice Cookie

• Now this man REALLY wants you to join his army, but since you don't want to, he's a little pissed he wouldn't lie, but he doesn't hate you !

• He's the only one who train you, he would have asked Nutmeg Tiger to do instead of him, but he doesn't want to lose his best commander, plus he's the only one who can touch you with the other Beasts so.

• He train you punch fights, even if everything you touch turn to ash instantly, he want to make sure you can defend yourself when they're not here.

• He's not the best at words or comfort actions, but he'll try to, he's not used to this kind of thing.

• He's the type of guy/friend that will cheer you when you're actually fighting against someone, like he'll scream at you to continue.

"COME ON HEIR !! PUNCH HARDER !! CRUMBLE THIS COOKIE !! AHAHAHA !!"

Yes, this is him.

• He won't yell at you, oh no, you've been through enough after all those years, he never raise a hand on you eather...

• Even if he doesn't show it to you often, but he truly care about you, he's just a real spicy cookie that all.

• As for Nutmeg Tiger, she's your bodyguard most of the time, following you everywhere you go, and treating the cookies who dare trying to arm you.

• She doesn't touch you, as for obvious reasons, but she's happy you trying to help her in the secret garden she usually dry the plants and flowers, even if you just stay with her and talk a little bit, she's a little happy to have some company.

Mystic Flour Cookie

• Haaa~ the Cookie of Empathy, she's a very calm cookie even with her power, view of the Earthbread and lake of expression.

• You're the only one (with Louna) who get to see her genuinely smile, she feel more comfortable and more happy around you when you two talk about anything.

• You two share your time with a cupe of her tea, while she listen to you, she's a very good listener and can listen to you without boredom for hours or days.

• She comfort you when you have bad thoughts/ or bad views about yourself, you are beautiful even WITH this cursed.

• She's the one who feed your food and drink, as the first time you tried to, they just vanished with the cupe she served you your tea, you apologize to her as you break down not wanting to destroy her cups...

• She only comfort you by telling you that it was alright, it was just things, she can remplace them, she start to feed you when you two eat or share some tea.

• Cloud Haetae cheer you up with his treaks, even if he want to touch you and give you a hug as his fluffy fur is very soft an comforting, he know other methods he can use to help you get you smile or laugh.

"I'm sorry you have to feed me again... If only I could touch food without this-"

"Ush now My Light. I already told you that you'll NEVER be a burden for us. I'm actually happy to help you more then you did to us, so stop doubting yourself, you're great and always will be."

• She place you on her lap to ease your mind more, as she rub her hands gently in your hear, she humble a little song she once heard before, it's really relaxing 😌.

Eternel Sugar Cookie

• She's very clinging with you, how HORRIBLE to not touch things for years ?! Unthinkable, so she hug, kiss, and most importantly, give you affection through actions and a little of words.

• In ther Paradise, she's spoiling you roten, she'll give you ANYTHING you want, want some food ? Sure, there is plenty in here. Bored ? Her little creatures (as I saw) will distract you or play with you until you're egsosted. Want some cuddles ? DAMN THIS ANGLE WILL DROP EVERYTHING JUST TO GIVE YOU THAT !!

• She often sleep with you in her cloud, she'll be on top of you while she cuddle you, her wings wrapped around you like you're her little baby.

• Even if you're asleep, she's often the one watching you, not in a creepy way, no, like an adorable way. You're just too cute when you sleep, she can help.

"Oh, Darling~ I just can't get enough of you~ you're just so cute and soft~! I can just squeeze your Blum little cheeks of yours~!"

Silence Salt Cookie

• Now this cookie, as far as I know, is not a very talkative cookie, but he's a very good listener when you need to talk about your fear...

• As he can't talk he show his affection through gifts, chocolate, flowers, fluffy plush (who are magic, so they don't fade away when you touch them)

• He's your personal Bodyguard, he'll protect you when some cookie dare to attack you, he'll Sly them in instant.

• You're the only one who get to see his face... It's a very sensitive topic for him.. but he feel more comfortable and relaxed when he's with you.

• You're also the only one who get to give him nicknames without being killed Shadow Milk do it to annoying him, just like the rest of the others, but when it's you, he'll just smile in his casque..

"Hi Salty ? Do you need- Oh !"

He give you a bouque of purple flowers. You gently took him from his hands and thank him.

"Thank you Silence Salt, these are so pretty ! Where did you find them ?"

He pointed a little place where he found them, then, out of the bleu, you kiss his cheek, he look at you, surprised.

"Sorry, I can't give you something similar as i used to, I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable !" He immediately shake his head, you can't probably not see but she's blushing under his mask~...

Red Chocola Cookie

• This girl was already overprotective with her friends and family, but now with York state ? Yeah, she's' not going to let it happen again.

• She told you about her little sister and brother, who after so long was alive this hold time and live a happy life now... She really doubting herself a lot, but she's not going to show it to you all the time. It's not about he, but you.

• She used to sing songs her mother sing when she was little, so when you two are relaxing, she sing while she rest on you.

•She told you about her hatred for Fallacy, the one who broke her heart and Friendship they had, she's happy he lost sight of his son, and the little kid is the best friend of her brother. She can be more happy tehn to see him suffer as much as he did to her... but she sometimes mumble of how she's a little worried/still care about him.... She can't help it...

• She's always working with her magic to create gloves for you, just like Shadow Milk, but she's reading through ancient magic books so that, she know what material she need.

• She make sure that any nightmare doesn't get to you, she's giving you only good dreams and if you happen to have one, don't worry she's right next to you for comfort.

• She's very motherly, she'll feed you when you can, help you choose your clothes, hug you, she'll do just that !

• She doesn't care of the Witches.... But she does worried about her mom, who is one of the witches... She know it wasn't her who trapped her and the others... But she wonder if she's okay...

Hope you like it !! Don't hesitate to ask for more !!!

[dickgraysonisnothereforthis]

I Know You Want Me On Your Team (jason todd x reader x roy harper smut)

Roy asks you if you want to fuck Jason, since apparently Jason wants to fuck the two of you. As it happens, Roy is a fucking genius.

—

There’s a lot of love for “Roy and Jason share reader” and obviously that’s king shit, but, hear me out—Roy and reader share Jason.

You and Roy set your sights on Jason. You are conspiring. You are relentless. You are fucking nasty. Jason never stood a chance (not that he wanted to.)

So, here we are. Pwp, except the plot is just you and Roy figuring out how to put Jason in your bed. Smut, vouyerism. Established relationship (Roy x reader). Swearing, as always

I don’t know how long this is

———

“Hey, sweet cheeks, I want to talk about something.” Roy’s words drift lazily over to you.

“Oh, no,” you snort. “This should be good.”

“Fuck off,” Roy kicks at you lightly, rumpling the bedsheets. The two of you made the most of an empty afternoon by fucking like rabbits and haven’t bothered to get up since then, lying bare ass naked on the bed and watching the sun dip lower and lower outside the window.

“Okay, lay it on me.” You groan, anticipating Roy’s joke. “Actually—”

“Not the only thing I’ll lay on you,” he waggles his eyebrows and rolls his body on top of yours.

“Get off,” you push him away. “I told you, I’ve got no more fucking in me. And you have sticky come on you.”

“So do you,” Roy counters.

“But not as much,” you reason.

“Next time I’ll finish on your tits, then,” Roy nods to himself, then grins at you. “Get you nice and filthy.”

You jab him with your foot. “Can you fucking focus, please? What did you want to say?”

“What? Oh, right.” He shakes his head, then looks at you seriously. “I think Jason wants to fuck us.”

His words clock you in the jaw. “What?”

“I think Jason wants to fuck us,” Roy repeats himself earnestly.

You stare at him. Roy meets your gaze and raises his eyebrows.

He’s given you whiplash. Whatever you thought he was going to say, it definitely wasn’t this.

“Well…” you try to collect yourself. “Well, okay, Jason definitely wants to fuck you.”

This is true, Jason 100% wants to fuck your boyfriend. Poor man has it down bad for his best friend. You’ve seen when the three of you hang out at Roy’s apartment or at a bar over drinks. Jason’s eyes follow Roy wherever he goes, always flicking down to his ass. He positions himself near Roy and leans in close, much closer than he has to, whenever Roy is talking. And sometimes he gets this stupid look on his face whenever he’s listening to Roy ramble about Lian. Same look you wear; it’s like looking in a mirror.

Maybe the crush should bother you, but it doesn’t. You don’t know a ton about Jason, Roy’s been pretty tight-lipped, but you know he’s been through a lot of rough shit. What’s the harm in a passing crush? Lord knows you’ve had plenty. And besides, you trust Roy. If anything changed in their relationship, if he wanted things to go a different way, he’d tell you.

But maybe he’s telling you now. “Yeah, he’s into me, but he’s also definitely got the hots for you,” Roy insists as you roll your eyes. “I’m serious. You don’t see it, but he can’t keep his eyes off you. And he asks about you a lot.”

“Maybe he’s just asking about his friend’s girlfriend,” you argue, reluctant to believe him.

“Nah,” Roy says definitively. “Trust me. This is not normal Jason behavior. He’s into you.”

You give him a look. “And that doesn’t bother you.”

“Well, I mean,” Roy shrugs. “It’d bother me if I didn’t kinda want to fuck him too. That’s why I’m bringing it up.”

“Huh.”

“But I’m only gonna fuck him if you want to fuck him,” Roy clarifies. “If it’s, like,” he gestures between you. “A group activity.”

You can’t help it, you laugh out loud. “Wow, you’re such a team player.”

“What can I say,” Roy says with a smirk, “everyone wants me on their team.”

“Ugh.” You punch him in the arm. “Jason certainly does.”

“He wants to be on your team, too,” Roy reminds you. “So, do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Wanna fuck him?”

You pause, considering. You’re open to a third, but maybe not Roy’s best friend who’s half in love with him. But Roy says Jason likes you, too…

“You don’t have to decide right now,” Roy says reassuringly.

“You want to fuck him?” you clarify.

“Well, yeah,” Roy answers simply. “He’s hot. And so are you, you’re fucking gorgeous. I want to watch you two make out.”

Well, shit. You hadn’t considered that. Jason is stupid hot. Tall and broad with enough beefy muscle for two people. And his face is so pretty. Do you want to watch him fuck Roy up close?

Uh, yeah. That’s the kind of shit you subscribe to porn sites for.

“Just think about it, yeah?” Roy says, but he’s grinning like he already knows your answer. He rolls out of bed, looking for his pants. “Like I said, don’t gotta do anything right now.”

“Yeah, okay,” you say, still considering. “Where’re you going?”

“Gonna go get Lian from her mom’s.” He pulls on his pants, then looks over his shoulder. “See you Saturday?”

“Saturday,” you nod, then wave after he pulls on the rest of his clothes and leaves your apartment.

•••

After thinking about it for six more seconds you realize that Roy is, in fact, a genius, and of course you want to fuck Jason. When Saturday rolls around and you’re going out for pizza, you quickly bring up the topic.

“Okay, so, hypothetically, if we were going to invite Jason into our bed, how would we do it?”

Roy smiles around a slice of pizza. “Knew you’d come around.”

“Well.” You throw up a hand, let it smack against the table. “He’s hot.”

“Damn right. But he’s also,” Roy gestures to his head, then his chest. “You know.”

“Tricky,” you nod. “Exactly. So how do we do this?”

You two stare blankly at each other across the table.

“Come on, Roy,” you groan after a few seconds. “You can’t say some shit like that and not have a plan.”

“Hey, you’re the babe in this relationship, you figure out the emotional crap,” he argues.

“That is so fucking stupid. He’s your best friend,” you remind him.

“Yeah, but I don’t know how to date him. I’ve never dated any of my friends,” he points out. “Don’t waste time with friendship, go straight to fuckin’.”

“That won’t help you now,” you tell him. “Come on, asshole, think.”

He looks at you for a second, then shrugs, taking another bite of his pizza.

“Oh my god,” you mutter. “You’re useless. What’s his dating history?” You pick up your own slice.

Roy whistles through his teeth. “Can’t just tell you his secrets, babydoll, c’mon.”

“Yeah, fair.” You consider this as you take a bite of your pizza. “Okay, well, I’m just going to take some guesses,” you say, talking around the food in your mouth. “One, he hasn’t had a lot of experience.”

Roy shrugs, but his eyes are glinting. You nod to yourself. This one’s obvious, Roy told you that Jason was basically out for the count during ages 15-19. You always assumed he was in a coma or something. No chance to get his dick wet, and probably hard to jump right into the dating game after all that hell.

You purse your lips. “Poor bastard, whatever happened to him.” You shake your head. “Wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

Roy’s face grows hard and cold. “You can’t even fucking imagine.”

Your eyes widen, a little taken aback by Roy’s sudden intensity. He stares over your shoulder, eyes furious. Eventually, he shakes his head with a sigh. “Shouldn’t’ve even happened to him. Sick fucks couldn’t protect him when he needed it.” His eyes return to yours, warming slightly. “Makes our job harder.”

Cautiously, you make another guess at Jason’s past. “Right. So…he’s only been with one or two people?”

Roy blinks.

“Guys?”

Roy chews his lip, then nods slightly.

“Any girls?”

He waits a moment, then minutely shakes his head.

You sigh. “Well, shit, Roy, how do you even know if he likes girls? I still think he’s only interested in you.”

“Babe, I fucking swear, he is so into you.” Roy exhales loudly, shaking his head. “If he wasn’t so pretty I’d have to punch his lights out for it.”

“How do you know?” you demand.

“I think he jacks off to you,” Roy says, so matter of fact that you almost choke on your food.

“How the fuck could you possibly know that?”

“Sometimes he looks real guilty when he sees you,” Roy explains. “And then he looks at me like he’s gotten caught, like he’s in trouble. Yeah, he’s definitely fisted his cock to you.” Roy grins at you across the table. “Can’t say I blame him.”

Damn if that isn’t an ego boost. You perk up in your seat. “Maybe I could seduce him,” you offer.

You don’t even finish your sentence before Roy shakes his head. “Naw, bad idea. He’d just run away.”

You deflate, affronted. “Worked on you,” you point out, mumbling.

“Well, yeah. You shoved those pretty tits in my face. Had to have ‘em in my mouth.” He grins at the memory, and you beam at him across the table.

“Can’t seduce him,” Roy brings you back to the problem. “Gotta try something else.”

“Right.” You stare at him, unsure.

Eventually, Roy sighs. “I think we just gotta lay it out for him. That we were thinking about it and we want to…”

“Fuck?” you offer.

Roy frowns. “Not like that. Don’t wanna scare him. That we wanna…try, with him. If he’s interested.”

You nod. “And he can say no.”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Roy agrees. “And we’ll care about him either way.”

“That’s more for you,” you point out. “I mean, obviously it’s true for me, but I think it’s more important if you say it about yourself.”

“You’re right. That it won’t affect our friendship.” Roy considers for a moment, then grins. “Damn. We are so fucking smart.”

“Hell yeah. We should get beer.”

He points a finger at you. “Babe, you’re a genius.” He gets up from the table as you giggle at him

•••

Even once you figure out how to ask Jason, your planning isn’t over. How should you bring it up to him? When, where? You and Roy work tirelessly at these questions.

Not at a bar, Roy rules that one out. Not your apartment, either, you don’t want Jason to feel caged in. Roy’s place. But when? After a mission or patrol? Nah, when you’re all just hanging out. Should you feed Jason first, wine and dine him? Break out some scotch or something?

Okay, yeah, that sounds good, you decide. It’ll be almost like a date, but at Roy’s place. And Jason won’t know. A surprise date. You’ll shower and look real cute, and Roy will be…clean, at least. And you’ll cook something really good, and Roy will buy scotch. Perfect.

You and Roy decide this’ll happen in two weeks, after he and Jason have gone on a short, three-day mission. That’ll give you enough time to plan out exactly what you want to say. And clean Roy’s apartment.

You’ve got two weeks to prepare. You’ll pull out all the stops for Jason. It’ll be perfect.

Except this plan falls to shit, because two days after you and Roy decide to take Jason on a non-date, Jason smells you out.

“Okay, what the hell is going on?” He wrinkles his nose, staring at the two of you accusingly. “You’re acting weird.”

Shit. You and Roy stare worriedly at each other, scrambling. The three of you are at Roy’s apartment; Roy had invited Jason over and you were getting ready tohead out.

Jason cocks an eyebrow and folds his arms over his chest, leaning back against the kitchen counter. “Spit it out,” he commands.

Holy shit, he really is hot, with his biceps bulging under the sleeve of his t-shirt. He whistles to get your attention, and you whip your head to look at Roy, who’s also been staring.

“Uhh…” you stare at Roy pleadingly. It’s not time yet! You’re not ready!

Roy shrugs. He’s right. Jason’s forced your hand.

“Look, man, we were thinking,” Roy starts. “We both really like you, and we both think you’re really…well, really fucking hot.”

Here Jason sucks in a sharp breath, cheeks blushing. You stare at him openly, it’s so fucking cute you can’t look away.

“We do,” Roy presses on, “you are. And if you wanted to try and have fun with us, or something like that, we’d definitely be into that.”

He leaves that on the floor, and looks to you for confirmation. You nod encouragingly, he did great.

You both turn back to Jason. He’s still bright red, staring harshly at the floor.

“But only if you want to!” you blurt out, trying to reassure him. “Of course it’s only if you’re game. And if not, that’s totally cool too.”

“Yeah, man,” Roy adds. “This doesn’t have to change anything, we’re just puttin’ it out there. If not, no worries.” He shrugs. “I still care about you, I’m still gonna care about you, no matter what.”

“Me too,” you say, just to drive the point home. “Of course we’ll still care about you.”

Jason says nothing, gaze stuck to the kitchen floor.

“Obviously, you don’t have to answer right—”

“You want to have sex with me.”

Jason’s words cut across yours. He’s picked his head up, narrowed eyes searching your face.

“Um. Yes?”

“You want to have sex with me.”

You glance at Roy. “Yeah. Of course I do.”

“Really,” Jason says flatly.

“Jay,” Roy begins, but Jason cuts him off with a scoff.

“Hold on.” You put up a hand to placate Roy. Jason’s insecurity isn’t surprising, after all. “Yes, Jason,” you say again, looking him square in the face. “You’re really, really attractive. And I care about you. Of course, I want to have sex with you.”

He doesn’t look convinced, so you try a different tack. “I’ve uh, I’ve thought about it.” You smile sheepishly. “I don’t have to give you the details, but yeah. Definitely thought about it. Definitely want to do it in real life.”

He holds your gaze. “Can you give me the details?”

You gasp, unprepared for Jason to be brazen. But sure, you can tell him about fucking yourself to completion at the thought of him.

Your smile changes to something cautiously alluring. “I think of you when I touch myself,” you say softly. “When I’m alone and wet and rubbing a finger against my clit.” Across the room, Roy heaves out a sharp breath, but you only have eyes for Jason. His jaw sets, but his eyes haven’t left yours. “I think about you when I’ve got a hand in my panties and I want to make myself come. When I’m playing with myself. Sometimes I come with my fingers in my cunt, wishing they were yours.”

Finally, Jason’s expression changes: for half a second, he shudders in shocked disbelief, then nods. He turns to Roy, your eyes follow. Roy’s glancing between the two of you, a slack-jawed expression on his face. You pointedly look down to see he’s half hard in his jeans.

Glancing at Jason, you take a risk. “Sorry, Jay,” you murmur, beckoning Roy closer. “I gotta take care of my baby for a sec.” Roy comes willingly, and you pull him in for a kiss, one hand dropping to squeeze his ass and encourage him to grind against you. The kiss is intense, you can feel his heart pound in his lips, knowing Jason’s watching. Roy moans loudly into your mouth, and you laugh quietly. “So easy to get you excited, hmm?” you tease softly.

“Shut up,” Roy grumbles, sucking on your tongue.

Suddenly, Jason clears his throat. Both you and Roy whip your heads towards him with a crack. “Can I watch?” Jason asks stubbornly, like he’s pushing himself forward.

You and Roy turn back to each other for a split second. Then, simultaneously—

“Yup.”

“Yeah, that’s a great idea.”

Jason nods, then waits for you make the next move. You turn to Roy.

“C’mon, baby, park that ass on the couch,” Roy says easily. “I want to eat that pretty pussy.”

“M’kay.” You turn and practically flounce over, making sure to sway your ass with every step. You glance over your shoulder: Jason’s staring at it, then boldly flicks his eyes up to yours. You shiver.

“Jay, you comin’?” Roy asks, following you. With a grunt, Jason comes over as well.

By the time both men make it into the living room you’ve taken off your shirt and shorts, settling yourself against the couch with your back to the armrest. Roy groans when he sees you, laying between your legs and kissing his way down your chest. You glance at Jason. With an unreadable expression on his face he pauses, then sits carefully in the armchair across from the couch.

Your skin crackles. Feeling Roy’s lips on your stomach and Jason’s eyes on you, knowing he’s right over there, watching, watching, is making your head spin. Roy bites you, right at the edge of your panties, and you shriek, hands flying to his hair. Roy laughs, laving his tongue over the mark. “Always so sensitive.”

“Shut up, Harper—ah!” Roy’s canine scrapes at your clit through your underwear. He can always find it, like an arrow to the target. You pant heavily, eagerly turning your head towards Jason. He’s watching you through narrowed eyes, like he’s trying to figure you out. His intense gaze has you squirming delightedly. It makes you want to put on a show.

“So mean, Roy, going at me with your teeth,” you chastise, jerking him up by his hair. He gasps, then smirks: he sees clean through you like glass. He knows what you’re up to.

“M’sorry, baby.” He leans into your hand, turning to pull one of your fingers into his mouth. You sigh happily as he sucks earnestly, circling the pad of your finger with his tongue.

“Gotta be on your best behavior, we’ve got a guest, sweetheart.” You hear Jason pull in a sharp breath.

“Mm.” Roy grins at you evilly, then bites down on your finger.

“Ah-ah! Roy, ouch!” You pull your finger out of his mouth, but he’s already throwing his head down and wrapping his lips around your clit. “Roy,” you say again breathily. He hums, sucking on you deliciously through the underwear. “Oh, fuck, baby, just like that,” you moan.

“Yeah? Already so wet, can taste it through your panties.” He sighs as you grind against his face, hooking a leg over his shoulder. “Fucking yourself on my face already? That’s okay, babydoll, take what you need.”

You moan, hips jerking up from the couch. Roy teases you with his tongue, flicking lightly against your clit, drawing circles around it, tracing the outline of your folds. “Fuck Roy, feels so good.”

“I take good care of my girl, huh?” One of his hands comes up to cup your breast, pinching and massaging your nipple.

Your back arches into his touch. “Fuck, yes. Always make my pussy feel so good.” You look at Jason again, his eyes are just a little bit wide, his mouth slightly open. His hands are white-knuckling the arms of the chair, and you clock an almost imperceptible bulge in his pants. Fuck yes. He’s fucking into it, he’s getting off on you and Roy.

The thought alone makes you pull Roy’s hair and buck against his face just to hear him moan into your pussy. Jason catches you staring, closing his mouth and sizing you up. You meet his gaze, even though it has you writhing on the couch. “Always take such good care of me, Roy, always make me feel so fucking good.”

You see Jason take you in, hips moving against Roy’s face, breasts jumping as Roy kneads and plays with them. He lets out a quiet curse, and you smile cockily.

“Wanna take these off?” Roy interrupts you, snapping the band of your underwear against you.

“Fuck yes.” You obligingly lift your hips as Roy slides off your panties. You can’t help it, you wriggle your hips just so Jason can see your ass shake.

“Mmm, there she is.” Roy holds your thighs open with both hands. “Look at this pretty pussy, hm? All wet and fucked out already.” He glances over to Jason, then stares. You follow his gaze.

Shit. Jason is fully hard now, one of his hands smoothing over his cock, trapped as it is in his jeans. God, he looks so big, you’re practically salivating.

He realizes you’re both staring at him and blushes, then lifts his chin defensively. “Do you wanna touch yourself, Jay?” you ask softly. Roy pinches the skin of your hips in silent encouragement. “You can if you want to.”

Jason considers this for a moment, then palms himself fully, rolling his hips into his hand and stifling a small moan. That alone is enough to send heat straight to your core and make Roy rut into the leather of the couch.

But you want more. “Can you take yourself out for us, baby?” you ask gently. “We want to see you.”

Again, Jason hesitates, hand shaking against his crotch. He looks at you, and then at Roy. You realize Roy is looking at him hungrily, you probably are, too. Then Jason unbuttons his jeans, pulls down the zipper, and pulls his cock out of his pants.

Holy fuck. Next to you, Roy’s mouth drops open. Jason is big, thick and pretty, with precum dripping from the tip. You want to take him in your mouth, want to blow him until he comes down your throat.

You and Roy sit motionless, drooling at the sight in front of you. Eventually, Jason smirks, dropping a hand to pump lazily at his cock. “Thought I was the one watching,” he says, eyes glinting as he drags his hand up and down his shaft. “You just gonna sit there?”

Holy shit. You and Roy stare at each other, dumbfounded. You don’t know where Jason’s confidence came from, but it’s hot as fuck.

Eager to please Jason, you grab Roy by the neck and pull him down to your pussy. He dives back in, sloppily making out with your folds before suckling on your clit. Your moan is loud enough to echo through the apartment. From across the room, you can hear the slick sounds of Jason stroking himself. The leather of the couch creaks as Roy rolls his hips into the cushion, seeking friction of his own as he slides his tongue between your folds before going back to your clit.

It’s driving you insane. “If you keep this up, I’m gonna come,” you say brokenly, not sure who you’re talking to.

Jason swears as Roy eggs you on. “Yeah, baby, come on my face, wanna taste it,” he says, messily working at your clit to send you over the edge.

It doesn’t take long. Fire burns at your navel, and with the sound of Jason fucking his fist in your ear and Roy’s tongue up your cunt, you come in a whirlwind. Roy’s tongue fucks you the whole time, until the overstimulation hits and you’re pushing him away with a cry.

Panting, you stroke Roy’s hair. “Thank you, baby, that was so fucking good,” you say, and Roy kisses your thigh at the praise. You turn to Jason: he’s hunched over in the chair, fucking himself with deliberate, almost restrained strokes. Your pulse starts to quicken again. You want to make it good for him, you want to give him something he’ll remember for the rest of his life, even if he doesn’t want to join you in bed.

Quickly, you drag Roy up your body by the shoulders. Kissing him sloppily, you fumble with his sweatpants, yanking them down and getting a hand around his cock. “This okay?” you mumble against his lips.

“Fuck, yes,” he hisses, and you grin, playing with his balls and jerking him off where Jason can see.

Roy knows what you’re doing and he plays along, gasping and bucking dramatically into your hand. Though judging from the way he sinks his teeth into your neck, it’s not all for show. “Jesus, baby,” he moans, “feels so fucking good.”

Jason’s hand is getting fast and messy around his cock, the sounds louder and sloppier as he picks up the pace. “You hear that, baby?” you murmur to Roy under your breath. “You hear how he’s fucking himself to us?” Roy groans, nodding. “It’s cause of you baby,” you whisper, “it’s because of how hot you look right now, fucking my hand.”

Roy hisses, hips snapping into your fist. “You gonna come?” you ask, louder.

“Ye—yeah, baby, I’m gonna fucking come,” Roy grits between his teeth.

“Give it to me,” you coax, and he does, spurting over your hand and wrist. You stroke him until he hisses, then move your hand to rub at his thigh affectionately. He grins briefly at you. As one, you turn to look at Jason.

He looks almost wrecked, biting his lip as if to clamp down on a moan and brutally fucking himself into his hand. It is so beautiful and sexy that you wish you could take a picture.

For the first time, Roy speaks to Jason directly. “God, Jay.” His voice is broken and breathless. “You—I can’t even tell you how gorgeous you look right now.”

Jason whimpers, face crumbling, and you watch, mesmerized by the effect Roy has on him.

“So fucking beautiful, so fucking hot,” Roy continues, and Jason’s strokes become more frenzied, hips bucking wildly.

“You gonna come?” Roy asks gently. “Come for us, baby, please.”

Jason groans, coming almost as soon as Roy asked. You pinch Roy at the sight: Jason panting, cheeks pink, trying to block the spend that seems to be coming in ropes and ropes. He sees you and Roy staring and blushes harder, avoiding your eyes. Jason is absolutely delicious, and you want to put him in your bed and keep him there.

You and Roy sit, motionless, until Jason clears his throat. “So, uh.” He looks at the come, then pulls off his shirt to mop it up, leaving himself in a white undershirt.

This jolts you and Roy. “So what do you, uh,” you start. “Do you want to—”

“Don’t know.” Jason rises to his feet.

This doesn’t faze Roy, but you become a bit frantic. “Okay, uh,” you jump up from the couch. “Do you want me to wash—”

“Nah.” Jason shoves the shirt in his pocket, heading for the door.

“Oh—okay. Uh—”

“See you later.” Jason pulls the door open.

“Bye, Jay,” Roy calls as the door slams shut.

You’re left staring. “Roy, what the fuck was that?”

“Don’t worry,” Roy says, pulling you back down to his chest. “That’s just Jason.”

“Fine.” You pout for a moment, then grin. “So, that was insane.”

“Uh, yeah,” Roy smirks. “Told you.”

“When you’re right, you’re right,” you agree, too fucked out to fight it. “Think it worked?”

“Mmm, not sure.” Roy shrugs. “Have to wait and see.”

“Okay.” You settle against his chest.

You two are quiet for a few minutes, before you pinch his nipple.

“Fucking hell, what?” He glares at you.

“That bit, where he was like, ‘you guys just gonna sit there?’” you say, eyes wide.

Roy groans. “Fuck, I know.”

“Roy, is he a dom?” Roy stares open-mouthed at you, then slowly grins. “Roy, did you bag us a fucking dom?” you press, voice jittery with excitement.

“I don’t know,” he repeats, but his eyes are star struck. “Have to wait and see.”

———

Have to wait and see!!! You and Roy are bimbo and himbo, you just don’t know it yet.

There will be a second part I’ve decided! And maybe a third, but don’t hold me to it.

If you have any thoughts on this lmk! I have a lot of thoughts on how this threesome would shake out.

Anyway ! That was fun !

[matchpointfaist]

super rich kids with nothing but loose ends

art donaldson x pr relationship! reader

tw for drinking, drug usage, smut, might split into two parts

art donaldson had a tiny image problem. okay, maybe tiny wasn’t the right word. according to his team, and grandmother, he was on a downward spiral headed nowhere. he was at the height of his career, fresh out of stanford and in with the pros, perpetually gearing up for his next tournament, always running on as little sleep as possible. he had more than he knew how to handle; more money, more alcohol, more parties, more people offering him coke and more of a reason to finally try it. when he was younger, 16 or 17, he’d preached about his body being a temple, he’d never have dreamed of putting anything harmful into it. but now? now, he was living in a free for all, and he just kept coming out on top.

you, on the other hand? the media loved you. you were riding a high from your US open win straight out of college, on a winning streak that was finally being recognized as more to do with skill than luck. your team was a tight ship, constantly keeping tags on you, making sure nothing undesirable slipped through. it wasn’t just about winning, for you. it was about being the best, and that meant every aspect of your life revolving around getting people to like you. behind closed doors, though? that was a whole different story.

you could, and often did, keep up with art and all of his friends. you weren’t close, really, but you ran in the same circles, always running into each other at parties, occasionally flirting. he’d run into you once at some magazine launch, making small talk, already half drunk. “how do you do it?” he’d let slip through, watching you with hazy eyes. “do what?” you’d laughed, brows knit. “keep it together. you’re always more fucked up than i am, but you go out and win the next day like nothing happened,” he’d sounded frustrated, like he was holding it against you. “i just do it,” you’d shrugged, knowing fully well it was a blatant lie. every moment of your life was choreographed and orchestrated- you never just did anything. “bullshit,” he’d said under his breath, turning away before you could ask him what he meant. he’d avoided you after that, watching from afar as you drank the other girls under the table, as you stayed out even later than he did despite having a 8am match. he didn’t need to know how you did it. he could figure it out himself.

six months later, he found himself sitting in his manager's glass office, getting scolded for what felt like hours, lectured endlessly about his problematic behavior. "we need to rehab your image," his manager told him, leaned over his desk, "you need a girlfriend, someone to soften your appearance, make you more favorable to brands," "i'm a tennis player," art sighed, sinking down in the crinkling plastic seat, "i didn't sign up for all this shit, honestly, and i'm certainly not gonna go date some random girl just so a brand will sponsor me," "you don't need a random girl," his manager smiled, paging his assistant, and before art could ask him to clarify, you were strolling through the door. "oh, fuck no," he shook his head, standing without hesitation, "no. i don't need tennis' golden girl to tidy up my image, okay? this is bullshit," "if you want to stay signed on here, you'll sit down,"

art sat back down with an agitated huff, crossing his legs, trying to keep his eyes off of you as you sat down in the chair just beside his. "you need to understand that the two of you are not just tennis players anymore, alright? you're celebrities. my firm represents both of you, and i have zero intention of letting my investment go to waste because you can't get a grip, donaldson. we've drawn up contracts-" the man slid two folders across his desk, rigid with tension, "the two of you will maintain a stable, healthy relationship for a minimum of six months, until the buzz about art's recent escapades dies down. if, for any reason, this relationship ends before the six month term, both of your contracts with this firm will be terminated. got it?" a handful of mumbled expletives and messy signatures later, you were following art out of the office, the tension palpable.

"i think this is all bullshit, for the record," he told you as the elevator doors closed behind the two of you, "i don't need this. i'm doing perfectly fine for myself," "you're an alcoholic who sleeps his way through whichever city he finds himself competing in, don't be stupid. i know you, art. or were you too fucked up to remember all the times you hit on me at parties?" "i'm not an alcoholic," he scoffed, running a hand through his hair, "and that's rich, coming from you. you drink more than half the guys there," "and yet i still show up and don't make an ass out of myself!" you laughed incredulously, "face it, art, really. you need this,"

the elevator dinged and he watched as you stepped off, hesitating before following after you. “we might as well make the best of it,” he finally sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, “we need to be seen out together,” “just call me when you set something up,” you told him, smoothing out your skirt, “see you around, art,” and then you were gone, slipped out the door and into the back of some dark suv, just casual enough to get under his skin. he waited a week before calling you, finally deciding just to take you to dinner, try to at least be friends if you were stuck together for 6 months. he picked the restaurant, insisting on picking you up himself- he had a new sports car he was itching to drive- and sent you the details. he pulled into your driveway 5 minutes late, debating if he should get out and come to the door before changing his mind. this wasn’t a real date, after all.

you walked out after a moment, a vision of long legs and a sleek dress, your hair falling in loose curls down your back. “rude to make a lady come to the car alone,” you told him as you slid into the passenger seat, “i’d prefer if you didn’t do it again,” “do forgive me,” he rolled his eyes, raising his hands in mock surrender before putting the car back in drive, pulling out of your driveway, “you look nice,” “hm, you do too,” you smiled just slightly, eyes raking over his blazer and slacks, the shining watch on his wrist. he reached over to turn the music up, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “we need to talk about how we want to come across," you said over the song, "like what do we want the public to think about our relationship?"

"i couldn't give a fuck less," he laughed, shrugging one shoulder, "as long as they think we're together, who cares about specifics?" "well you can't be seen with anyone else," you frowned slightly, irritated by his nonchalance, "you know that, right?" "getting jealous already?" he flashed you a grin, one hand coming to rest on your thigh. you jerked away immediately, glaring at him from the corner of your eye, but he just waved it off, pulling you back towards him. "relax, i'm just getting in character," he smiled, more like smirked, his eyes gleaming with mischief, "you want it to come natural, don't you?" you tried to relax, ignoring the way his thumb rubbed circles on the skin of your thigh, the way his hand felt warm against you. it wasn't real, so it didn't matter that the simple touch had your heart racing.

the dinner went smoothly, the two of you falling into practiced touches easily, your hand lingering on his arm and his eyes lingering on your lips. by the end of the night, you had a near perfect rhythm. "you're good at this," he mumbled as he walked you down the crowded sidewalk back to his car, his hand on your low back, "guess you get used to that, being the golden girl of american tennis," "that's funny coming from you," you laughed slightly, "you're number one in the country, damn near in the world. you should be used to it by now," "never get used to having a beautiful woman on my arm," his voice was dangerously slow, suspiciously genuine. "bet you say that to all the girls," you rolled your eyes, attempting to brush off the way goosebumps dotted along your skin. "you're naive if you think i care about the other girls enough to flatter them," it sounds too easy to be a lie, "they throw themselves at me, i don't really have time to try and impress them,"

"you're an asshole," you laughed, shocked at his bluntness, "i thought you were nice, you're always so soft at parties," "soft?" he repeated, like he'd been scorned, "i am not soft, i just try not to be as aggressive as some of the other guys," "well i'm glad to discover you're actually exactly the same as they are," you rolled your eyes, "frat boys are all the same anyway, i'm not surprised," "i'm not a frat boy!" he argued, "i graduated last year, thank you very much," "once a frat boy, always a frat boy," you grinned, looking up at his flushed face. he looked down at you, the tension melting away as a boyish smile spread across his lips, "god, should've known you were just fucking with me," he laughed, nudging your shoulder. "i have no room to talk," you laughed, running a hand through your hair before letting it fall to his shoulder, looping your arm through his as you walked, "guess we're not too different,"

the drive home was quiet, his playlist playing idly in the background as he drove, your eyes glued to your phone so you wouldn't look at him for too long. he walked you to the door when you got there, smiling apologetically, "hopefully this makes up for earlier," "i guess so," you grinned, leaning against your doorway. "so we won't see anyone else," he said after a moment, "what about affection? i know we have to sell it, but are you okay with kissing in public? i don't want to take it too far," "wow, a frat boy who cares about consent," you teased, "why don't you come inside? we can sit down and talk about everything,"

you shouldn't have invited him in. you knew it as soon as you actually saw him in your space, sitting on your couch like he belonged there, his dress shoes by the door right next to your discarded heels. it made it all too real, his sobering presence casting a light on your home. "your place is so nice," he said, standing from the couch to run his fingers along the frame of a painting, "i'm surprised you don't have all your trophies out on display," "oh, they're out, just not in here," you assured him, "i have a room for that," "can i see?" he sounded genuinely curious, bordering on excited, and you cursed yourself for being so stupid before pushing it down and leading him through the house.

you opened a door along the main hallway, hesitating before letting him step inside after you, the only person you'd ever allowed inside besides your parents. "jesus," he said under his breath, glancing around. you knew you must look insane to a normal person- there were trophies and medals littering the shelves, plaques displayed, framed photos of winning shots or of you posing with coaches. there was a small tv against the wall, only used to watch back matches, and a loveseat for when you spent hours locked in the room, examining your every played back movement. you watched as he studied each trophy, his eyes lingering on the US Junior Open cup, the first one you'd ever won. "you were 15," he finally said, his fingers tracing the inscription in the copper, "weren't you?" "yeah, i was," you nodded, surprised that he even knew that, "why?" "that's fucking incredible," he continued on over the awards, "this is all fucking incredible,"

"i thought you'd think i was crazy," you admitted, "like this was some kinda shrine or something," "i think this is the hottest thing i've ever seen," his voice was hoarse, his eyes on the photo of you just after your most recent win, kissing your trophy. "what?" you almost laughed, to diffuse the tension if nothing else. "you're so fucking talented," he turned to face you, and your breath left you, your cheeks flushing. he looked undone, pupils dilated and cheeks tinged pink, "do you just sit in here and look at all you've done?" "i only come in here to watch matches," you felt suddenly embarrassed, like you were admitting some weakness, baring some part of your soul to him, "that's really all," "oh, god," he ran a hand through his hair, "you're so intense," "is that a bad thing?" you asked defensively, crossing your arms over your chest. "no, god no," he said quickly, shaking his head, "this whole thing is just- you're just insanely talented,"

a mental alarm goes off as he crosses the room, standing just in front of you, brushing a lock of hair from your face. “you make all those other girls look like a fucking joke,” he murmured, “you know that? wouldn’t even bother playing against you if i were them,” that does it- ignore the voice in your head telling you this is wrong, that this isn’t real- and kiss him, feverish and hot, rough and quick. he grabs hold of your hips, tight and greedy, with an intensity you’d only ever seen on the court. “we shouldn’t,” it comes out in a pant between kisses, your voice heady, “art, wait-“ “fuck waiting,” he mumbles, pulling you back to kiss you again, your back hitting the wall behind you. he tastes like vodka and redbull and mint gum, your lips tingling against his. a startled gasp leaves you as he halfway picks you up, your shoulder knocking a trophy from the wall with a clang. “shit, i’m sorry-“ “bedroom,” you cut him off, sliding out of his arms to pull him down the hallway, stumbling steps taken between messy kisses.

he laid you back on your bed, his kisses getting sloppier the needier he got, his hands anywhere he could reach. “these fucking legs,” he choked out, his hands grabbing at your thighs, lips trailing down your neck, “gonna be the death of me,” “shut up and fuck me,” you pulled his lips back to yours, eager for more. your body was taut with need by the time he finally rolled on a condom, ignoring your chastising remark when he pulled it from his wallet, and fucked into you, stretching you out more than you’d expected. “art, fuck,” you moaned against his lips, back arching. “oh,” he pulled away just enough that you could see the moment his eyes rolled back, his lips swollen and red, all blissed out as he rolled his hips. “oh, fuck me, that feels good,” his hands came to your thighs as his thrusts grew faster, his fingers leaving little marks across your skin, roaming pointlessly until he stretched your legs up, holding them above you, the new angle making you squeeze him even tighter. “oh, right there,” you were breathless, reaching between your parted thighs to circle your clit, desperate for your high. “you like that?” he panted, pressing a kiss to your calf, “tell me, baby,” in any other situation, you’d have rolled your eyes at his cockiness, but it only served to bring you closer. “yes, feels so fucking good,” you nodded, shameless and eager, “oh! oh, art, right fuckin there-“ he fucked you even harder, your muscles burning as he held your legs higher, a scream nearly leaving your throat as you came, trembling beneath him. “oh, jesus-“ he followed you almost immediately, filling the condom with a moan, his hips stilling slowly, “god, that was good,”

he slowly pulled your legs back down, pulling out of you and disposing of the condom as he caught his breath. your eyes were heavy with exhaustion, a serene feeling enveloping you as you curled up into bed, yawning quietly. “you can stay over,” you offered- something you never did- “if you want,” “yeah, okay,” he nodded, curling up behind you, his hands resting on your waist, “g’night, then,” “mm, night art,” you hummed, eyes closing.

you woke up only a couple of hours later, blinking into the darkness of your room, the spot beside you cold. your brows furrowed as you sat up, glancing around, only to find art gone, as well as the pile of clothes he’d shed earlier that evening. “what the fuck?” you mumbled to yourself, checking the time on your phone, rubbing your eyes. just under the 3:14am, there was a text from art. ‘sorry i dipped. don’t think we should do that again, wasn’t in the contract and all that. night!’ your face stung, anger and humiliation filling your veins. you slammed your phone down on the nightstand, pulling the pillow over your head and trying your best to get some sleep. he was right, you thought. it wasn’t real, so why pretend? only five months and 29 days to go, anyway.

[dannyriccsystem]

can we please have yn reacting to the drivers learning how to braid hair because they know hers is kinda long and is always getting in the way. thanks queen

LUSCIOUS LOCKS!

FORMULA ONE DRIVERS X READER

Summary: You have long hair and it’s always getting in the way. Your boyfriend surprises you by learning how to braid it!

Warnings: Reader is described with long hair, Y/N usage, not proofread

Featuring: MV1, DR3, LN4, CL16, LH44, CS55, GR63, OP81

MAX VERSTAPPEN - MV1

Your boyfriend had been on the sim all day. You didn’t mind, you were just… Slightly worried for his health. Certainly it couldn’t be good for you to just sit down all day, drinking only RedBull. It was a wonder how he managed to be a pro-athlete without having a heart attack.

Either way, you wanted to make sure he stayed healthy and satisfied, so you cooked up a nice dinner for him, filled with nutrients to balance out the excess caffeine he was taking in all day. As long as he was happy.

You walked over and set the plate down on the sim’s little table. He straightened up, pausing it to look over at you, all while you planted a firm kiss to his forehead. He smiled gratefully.

“Do you want to try?” He’d have to stop to eat anyway, so there was no harm done. You seemed hesitant, but when you nodded he climbed out, grabbing his plate to take with him.

You climbed into the cockpit of the simulator, getting situated. It was a little awkward, but after adjusting some of the settings, you were ready to do some fake racing. He smiled, munching on his food while he watched.

Once he finished, he took note of how you kept brushing your hair aside and away from your face, which was taking your racing down a notch. Max stood up, his hands collecting your hair behind your back, separating it into three sections.

“What are you doing?” You questioned, shivering at the sensation of his hands plating with your hair.

You could feel his hands moving deftly, a slight tug here and there. “Braiding your hair,” He answered so nonchalantly.

“You know how to braid?” He hummed with confirmation, and you slightly shrugged. It was nice to have it out of the way, that’s for sure.

Later, when you were both done using the simulator, you went to the bathroom. Seeing your reflection in the mirror, you couldn’t help but laugh.

It looked awful.

—

DANIEL RICCIARDO - DR3

He noticed it a lot. Your hair seemed to really bug you, constantly getting in the way. You could put it up, but then you’d always complain about how it looked sloppy compared to the rest of your outfit, especially when you guys went on fancy dates.

You always had hair in your face, mouth, or food when eating. It was obviously frustrating to you based on the constant groans of annoyance and overall frustration through the night. He wanted to help, but didn’t know how.

It was late one night, and you were already asleep next to him, your hair thrown into a messy bun that would eventually fall out in your sleep. He went to scouring the internet with tutorials on how to braid and style long hair.

The next day, you seemed angry as you stood in front of the mirror, getting ready for work. You couldn’t get your hair to cooperate in the ponytail like you wanted. Daniel approached from behind, gently massaging your soldiers before pulling it free from the hair tie.

“What?” He didn’t respond, just gave you a big grin in the mirror, and you couldn’t help but grin back. His joy was always contagious like that.

He gathered all of your hair and then split it into three sections. You realized immediately he was braiding it, something you were never able to do because of the awkward angle. It was too long for you to braid it yourself.

When it was done, he took his phone out and captured a picture of his handiwork to show you. You smiled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “When did you learn that?” It looked surprisingly good.

“Last night.” He replies, chasing after you for a real kiss on the lips. “I know how frustrating it is to do your hair.”

The real definition of if he wanted to, he would.

—

LANDO NORRIS - LN4

Lando had been itching for the opportunity to prove himself to you. When you guys first started dating, he predicted that he’d need a skill such as braiding. Your hair was ridiculously long, after all. Except, you never did. Never did you really need a braid.

Until now.

He was sitting on the couch while you got ready to go out with friends. He didn’t care, you were a free woman and he quite liked your friends anyway. Lando was anything but controlling— Just clingy.

You came out of the bathroom, all dressed to perfection with your makeup done nicely. He smiled, immediately complimenting your appearance. You thanked him, and then turned around to show the back, as well as your hair. “I’m just not sure how to style it-”

“A braid!” He replied instantly, sitting up straight. You blinked in confusion, taken aback by his sudden response.

His leg was shaking, foot rapidly tapping against the carpeted floors. You giggled softly, and shook your head.

“I don’t know how to braid my own hair. Only other people’s.”

Again, he replied instantly, “I can do it.”

Silence, and then you smiled. Even if it looked bad, you could tell he felt passionate about this. You agreed, and sat on the floor in front of him.

His hands were gently as he pulled your hair together into a braid. When he was done, he clapped his hands. “There! Looks great.”

You went to check yourself out in the mirror, and surprisingly… He had done it perfectly.

—

CHARLES LECLERC - CL16

Charles loved more than anything to take you on motorcycle rides when the two of you went on dates. It was so freeing, and it felt nice to have you clinging to him with your arms around his waist, enjoying the breeze.

The only problem was, it hadn’t been fun for you since your hair grew out longer, and he respected that. It always flung around everywhere and made it nearly impossible to see. It was unfortunate because before that, motorcycle rides were fun for you as well.

He scoured the internet for a solution to his issue, even asking a forum anonymously on advice. Charles felt stupid when wise women on the internet politely informed him that a braid would fix everything. Of course! But then, he had to ask… How to braid one’s hair, which earned a few laughs from these wise women.

He approached you one day after you both came home from work. You were lazily sprawled out on the couch, wearing an old t-shirt and patterned pajama pants as your comfy attire. “Do you want to go for a ride?” He mused, a slight smirk.

“Mmm…” He looked so eager, it was hard to say no. You hummed. “I suppose.” It was good to do things your boyfriend loved, even if you didn’t.

“Okay, but sit up first.” You did, your back pressed against the cushions on the back of the couch. He went behind, grabbing your hair to begin braiding it. You were pleasantly surprised at his hidden skill, rewarding him with a kiss afterwards.

“Genius, Charles.” You jested, taking the helmet to put over your head, your hair now secure in a braid.

“Thank you, mon ange.” It looked like shit, but it’s okay. Comfort over style.

—

LEWIS HAMILTON - LH44

Every morning when you woke up, your hair looked like a giant bird’s nest. You went to sleep feeling clean and silky, and then you’d wake up and everything was frizzy and sticking out everywhere. It was annoying.

At first, Lewis laughed at the sight, and would help you brush it out. But then, he began to realize your frustrations were serious and you had yet to find the right solution, so he went on a hunt to gather the proper materials for your new hair care routine.

You were both getting ready for bed. As you were brushing your teeth, Lewis came into the bathroom and silently started to braid your hair. You continued with your teeth brushing, but after rinsing your mouth out with mouthwash, you decided to question him.

“I’m braiding your hair,” he replied before pressing a kiss to the back of your neck, now exposed with your hair out of the way. “I bought you a silk pillowcase too. Tomorrow, when you take the braid out, it should remain smooth.”

The action made you emotional, to say the least. You went to bed quietly after showing him your thorough thanks!

—

CARLOS SAINZ - CS55

Carlos always maintained great care of his hair. He had some of the best hair on the entire F1 grid, making sure it stayed healthy and rid of any gray strays. Having you there to help him through the stressful times was part of that.

Your hair, as result, became well cared for as well. You both took pride in having such healthy hair, flaunting it on the paddock together. The problem was that with hair as long as your own, it got to become an issue. You couldn’t swim without it getting in the way, you couldn’t eat, you couldn’t go on runs.

You were sitting by the side of a pool— It belonged to one of your boyfriend’s friends, and you liked the company that came with. However, swimming wasn’t your favorite. Your hair got everyone and usually ended up tangled from the water. A bun could barely hold it up, especially without looking ridiculous.

“Amor, won’t you get in the water?” Carlos asked as he walked over to you, grabbing a towel to dry himself off. “It’s hot.” He sat in the chair beside you, drying his hair off. It fluffed up quickly.

“Mm… No,” You shrugged softly, pushing your sunglasses up. He looked nice— Always something you could appreciate. “My hair just gets everywhere.”

He felt bad that you couldn’t enjoy the cool water on a day like this, especially since he was the one to drag you out there. “Do you have a hair tie?” You nodded, and handed it to him. He gestured for you to sit up, and when you did he began to section your hair.

When it was done, he tied the braid off at the end and cleared his throat. “There… Looks, uh… Good.”

You didn’t care how it looked. It was the effort that made you smile, and you were happy to be able to enjoy swimming with him.

—

GEORGE RUSSELL - GR63

George was an absolute diva. This was no surprise to anyone. He took many things very seriously— The rules, racing, you… His skincare. He took it very seriously, valuing the health of the organ more than anything. When the two of you started dating, you both began to do skin care routines together.

Or, well… You tried. But when it came to the face masks, you always found yourself accidentally tearing hair out. It’s get stuck in the mask and then you’d have a real issue to deal with. Overall, very frustrating to deal with.

Tonight was no different. You started with the water and lotion, and some cream to help clear the stray pimples. George stood beside you, starting to apply his mask. You huffed, staring down at it with a sense of dread. He took note of your quiet rage and moved behind you to begin braiding your hair, his touch tender and gentle.

“George?” You questioned softly, staring at his focused expression in the mirror. He’d probably be a lot cuter if he wasn’t wearing a bright pink face mask.

He looked up at you and smiled, tying the braid off with a tie. “Now it won’t get stuck in the mask, right? Here.” You handed him the mask when he gestured for it.

He helped you finish up the routine by applying your face mask and tucking you into bed for the night. How considerate.

—

OSCAR PIASTRI - OP81

Dating Oscar was a breeze. He rarely picked a fight, was very open minded, and overall was very sweet and caring. The only challenge was how often he exercised. He never forced you to go with him, but you felt somewhat obligated to join him on his journeys.

Running was never easy. Your hair was whipped around in the wind, making it nearly impossible to go for a jog without either inhaling your own hair or having it cover your entire face. You never voiced your concerns, because you were worried he’d feel pressured to stop because of you.

Finally, Oscar just noticed it himself. He was running alongside you, taking note of how you were constantly trying to brush the strands behind your ears or flipping it aside. He stopped his pace, and out of confusion you did too.

“Is your hair bothering you?” He asked upfront, taking a few steps to catch up as you had stopped a few seconds after him.

“Yeah, but it’s not a big deal.” You shrugged, but he shook his head.

He spun his index finger in a circle. “Turn around.” You hummed and nodded, and without even be asked to, Oscar began to braid your hair.

“Where’d you learn to style hair?” You asked. You could practically hear his smile, especially when he began to talk.

“I have three sisters. No way they didn’t make me braid their hair when we were little…” He trailed off in silent focus, and then snapped his right fingers. “Done.”

You jogged a few steps to test it out, and then turned around with a grin. “Perfect! Thank you.”

IF HE WANTED TO, HE WOULD.

[honeydazai]

₊˚⊹♡ how they express their love for you

feat.: Viktor, Jayce, Silco, Vander, Sevika

notes: the same prompt has also been written before by my beloved @moonlight-in-the-sea here!! observe it or perish.

VIKTOR, all scepticism and sharp edges, raised eyebrows and discontent twitches of his lip when it comes to interacting with most people, has long learned to be open and honest with you. It's been a bit of a work in progress, the two of you growing closer over time, a natural development, but it's certainly paid out — his open expression and warm smile whenever he's with you makes your chest feel tight with affection, as does the fact that he has let his guards down completely, discussing just about every topic with you, ranging from the kinks of new inventions he still had to figure out, to gossip about the councillors. His humour blooms around you and Jayce, becoming one of his most noticeable traits.

It's no secret that he's working more often than not, that he's eating and sleeping in the lab whenever you don't put a stop to it, but, as you grow closer, he makes sure to split his attention between his two greatest passions; you, and his work. It shows in multiple ways, either through him inviting you to come along and watch, proudly introducing the new hextech inventions to you, eyes shining brighter than blue stones, or him actually taking half a day off to spend with you instead, taking you out to explore Piltover's little shops or simply staying at home with you, all domestic bliss.

It's strikingly obvious to both you, and to everyone around you, that JAYCE is especially fond of you, given how much he's touching you. They're all innocent gestures, like his huge hand resting on your upper arm, or on the small of your back when the two of you walk next to each other, or the warm hug he pulls you into when seeing you for the first time that day, strong arms inescapable, but it happens too often to be a coincidence. Whether he himself knows he's doing it is debatable — your best guess is that it comes so naturally to him that he barely even notices.

He's surprisingly attentive when it comes to your wellbeing — it shows in him always having a blanket on hand, or him giving you his jacket, when you're cold, in him asking if you've eaten already and keeping foods you like around.

His family's work is forging, and even though he's not quite as used to working on something this delicate, he does extraordinarily well when it comes to making you jewellery, working every night until there's no flaws to be detected. He also asks Mel or Viktor — Mel, preferably; subtlety is more her strength — to figure out what kind of gemstones you prefer to use those in the design.

SILCO is a man who values privacy — and yet, he has no issue with you constantly hanging around his office. Really, he's weak enough for you that he might attempt to scold you when you sit on his desk, pushing important documents to the side, or even on his lap while he's working, claiming your rightful place, arms looped around his neck, but his words never come off as truly strict, tone exasperated, but he'd never do anything against it. At this point, his office is as much your space as it is his, given how your belongings lie around everywhere — your lipgloss on his desk, your spare jacket on his wall, your favourite snacks secretly stocked in his drawers.

He's strikingly loyal, never even looking twice at someone else, given how he can only see himself being with you. Silco's always thinking of you, which shows not only in the way he brings you small gifts and trinkets — not unlike a crow — whenever he has to traverse the Undercity, but also through him wanting to keep your relationship a secret. It's most likely a sensitive topic, because he doesn't want you to think he's ashamed of you, never, but he's an influential man, and he just cannot stand the idea of someone harming you because of your connection to him. He's terrified of losing you.

VANDER is caring by nature, it shows in the way he protects his children and friends, his loved ones, his people. Still, with you, it's all the more obvious. Whenever you make your way to the bar, spending nights and early mornings at The Last Drop, he has your favourite drink already poured for you, including any modifications and snacks you like. In his mind, there's a whole section of facts about you, including your favourite positions to sleep in, your most beloved outfits, and the food you always ask for at the street vendor the two of you usually visit, and he couldn't stop himself from constantly gaining more information about what you like and dislike if he tried.

He's fond of physical affection, both strong arms wrapped around your waist when the two of you are sleeping, or the large of his hand splayed out on your lower back when he's guiding you through the crowds gathering in the bar. Not only does he simply enjoy touching you, the person he loves so very close to him, but he also wants to know you're safe at all times — if any stranger approaches you, setting you on edge, he's right there by your side. At night, he might cling to you a bit more tightly than usual when he's had bad thoughts of losing you the day long.

SEVIKA is entirely smitten by you. It's obvious enough that some of her colleagues comment on it, laughing and jeering at the heart-eyes she gives you whenever you walk by, gaze lingering for way too long, roaming over the curves of your hip and the way your hair moves in the wind. She's not bothered by anyone poking fun at her; yeah, she's heads over heels for you. So what?

She also really enjoys listening to you talk. After a hard day of work, there's nothing more relaxing to her than simply focusing on you, on your voice, on the peculiar way you pronounce certain words, and when she rests her head in your lap, your fingers gently threading through her hair, she just wants you to ramble about whatever comes to your mind.

Compared to Vander, her protection of you is mostly verbal — though that does not mean she wouldn't punch a guy until he's coughing blood if he looked at you the wrong way. Still, she's influential, imposing enough with just a raised eyebrow and a warning word for almost anyone to turn, tail between their legs, when they're staring at you for even a moment too long.

₊˚⊹♡ my commissions are open! ♡ tag list!

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[moonstruckme]

mae my lovely, can i possibly request emt!marauders and reader who hasn’t replied to any texts in a few days/a week? pre-established relationship but not quite living together, and reader struggles with her mental health and has holed herself up in her apartment which worries the boys greatly? please don’t write if you feel uncomfortable (and if you’ve already written it but i’ve devoured emt!marauders today and i don’t think you have) obviously!! love you

Thank you for requesting my love! And thanks to @ellecdc for helping me figure out the emt stuff <3

cw: mental health struggles, self isolation

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

Sirius’ knuckles rap loudly on your door. 

“Fuck, ease up.” James winces. “She’s gonna think we’re the cops.” 

“Good. Maybe she’ll answer for them.” 

“You need to calm down.” Remus’ voice is patience with a firm edge. “We don’t know what’s going on. If we go in angry with her, it’s not going to help anything.” 

“I think I have the right to be somewhat miffed,” Sirius argues. “You ghost someone after a first date, not once you’re in a relationship. It’s fucked.” 

“She’s not ghosting us,” James says certainly. Sirius’ mouth pinches in response.

James knows that, truly, his boyfriend is as worried as any of them. You’re well past the point in your relationship where you feel the need to establish the next time you’re going to meet before parting, but after your date last week it took the boys a few days to put it together that none of them had heard from you. 

At first, James presumed you’d simply gotten busy. Remus was convinced he’d done something to upset you. Sirius, secretly the most prone to worry, would rather believe he’s been slighted than consider the possibility that something might be keeping you from responding to their calls. Now that it’s been nearly a week, James is convinced something’s happened. You’ve had to take an emergency trip out of town or something’s spooked you and made you avoid them or—worst case scenario—you’re ill and have been holed up here with no one to check in on you for almost a week. 

Once he brought up that idea, it wasn’t difficult to convince his boyfriends to do a wellness check during their shift. 

“Just don’t be harsh with her,” Remus says gently. 

Sirius huffs. He knocks again, albeit somewhat softer. 

“NHS,” he calls. 

James holds his breath when he hears some shuffling from inside. Gradually, it gets closer and louder, until the door is creaking open and you’re peering through the crack. 

Your voice is scratchy, like you haven’t used it in a while. “What’re you doing here?”

James expects Sirius to snipe at you, is already prepared to smooth it over himself with kinder words and a gentler tone, but something seems to shift in the other boy at the sight of you. He pushes through the crack in your door, hugging you fiercely. 

“We…” Remus seems as thrown by this deviation as James is. “We thought we ought to check up on you.” 

Your hand migrates up, touching Sirius’ back tentatively. “Why?”

“It’s a wellness check.” Sirius’ voice is bitter, but the effect is somewhat muddled by how he’s speaking into your neck. “We had reason to believe you could be harmed or deceased.” 

“Oh,” you murmur. 

James takes a moment to look you over. You’re in pajamas, visibly rumpled, and yet you look as tired as if you’ve not slept in some time. There’s something off about your expression, something missing that he can’t put his finger on. It’s unsettling in a way that makes him want to wrap you up in a tight cuddle and not let go. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, perhaps more brash than he means to be. Normally he’d expect more tact from himself, but he’s shocked Sirius hasn’t asked yet, and someone has to.

“Can we come in?” Remus asks at the same time. 

You look between them like you’re not sure what to do with them. Like you’re questioning whether you’re still in some sort of dream. 

“Yeah,” you say after a moment. James gets the sense you mean it to answer both of them. You step back from the door to make room for them, and Sirius moves with you. “Um, forewarning, it’s really bad in here.” 

Really bad by your standards isn’t the same as James’. If he hadn’t seen the way you normally keep things, he’d never notice anything was amiss. Your place smells a bit stale, like when you leave for a weekend and then come home. There’s a laundry basket on the floor with a few balled socks like you’d started to fold them and given up, and if he peers into your bedroom he can see a small trash pile on your floor and the covers of your bed all twisted up. It’s no worse than his side of the dorm he’d shared with Remus and Sirius in school. 

“What happened?” Sirius asks you. His voice sounds clearer now, and James focuses back in to find that he’s let you go enough to press his forehead to yours. His brow and lips are pinched. “Why have you been avoiding us?” 

James is nearly overcome by the desire to kiss him and rub his back, but he decides to let you have the honor, if you want it. 

You look unsure whether you do. 

“I’m sorry.” The words seem scraped out from some aching part of you. “I wasn’t trying to.” 

“Then why didn’t you answer our calls?” Sirius’ tone matches yours for desperation. Remus’ expression twinges compassionately. 

“I couldn’t.” 

“Why not?” 

“Sirius,” Remus chides softly. 

Your shoulders are slumped, but when Sirius moves away you seem to droop further. He’s only giving you space, his expression far from unkind. 

“Why couldn’t you pick up, dove?” Remus asks gently. 

“I…” Your eyes meander the floor. “I didn’t know what to talk about. And then my phone died, and it was just easier. I’m really sorry.” 

“Is talking to us really that bad?” Sirius is clearly making an attempt at joking, but the heartache underlying his words is unmissable. 

“No,” you sigh. “I’m just not really fit for the world right now. I didn’t want you to worry.” 

James’ ribs hurt at your admission, but he feels himself nodding. Even if he doesn’t know exactly what it is you’re dealing with, he’s familiar with people who think they’re somehow so damaged they don’t deserve to engage with anyone or anything. Sirius was like that once. Remus even more often. He sees the recognition on both of their faces now, pity and love and regret all tangled up into one messy thing. 

“Well, it was a noble effort,” says James, giving you a small smile, “but you can’t stop us worrying. Can I hug you?”

You nod, making an effort towards returning his smile. It’s a half-hearted, flickering thing, but he appreciates it nonetheless. 

He kisses your forehead as he folds you into his arms, starting gentle and tightening when you hug him back. Your grip feels a bit weak, if ardent. James pushes his palm up your spine. 

“Have you eaten today, sweetheart?” 

Your hum in the negative vibrates against his skin. 

“I’ll make us something.” Remus starts toward the kitchen, passing a hand over James’ curls as he goes by. “A sandwich alright, dovey?” 

“Yeah,” you murmur. “Thanks.” 

“Don’t mention it.” His voice raises as he enters the kitchen, and James knows he wants you to hear. To understand that this is something he would happily do for you. 

“Let’s sit down,” James suggests. “Pads, would you mind opening the curtains some?” 

Sirius complies with vigor, whipping open your drapes while James gets you situated on the couch. In the light, the shadows under your eyes are more evident, as is the redness in them. 

James squishes you up against his side. Rubs up and down your arm. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. 

You make a tiny, stymied sound, and turn your head down. 

“Hey.” Sirius sits on your other side. He kisses your shoulder, worry hewn into the lines of his face. “What’s wrong?” 

Your shoulders give a little shake. It’s small, defeated. You curl further in on yourself. 

“Oh, baby. I’m so sorry.” 

“You don’t have to explain,” James tells you, continuing to drag his hand up your arm. “It’s okay. You’re alright.” 

“I wanted—” You take in a wet inhale. He feels close to tears himself. “I wanted to be better when I saw you. I’m sorry.” 

“We don’t need you to be any sort of way, sweetheart.” Sirius’ voice is soft but fervent. “We just want to be with you.”

“As much as you’ll let us,” James agrees. His own voice is thick, and Sirius slides his arm around you to rub between his shoulders. 

You don’t say much after that. James holds you tight until your trembling stops, and even then he only loosens his grip to let you eat the grilled cheese Remus has made for you. From the wrappers he saw in your room, it’s likely the closest thing to a prepared meal you’ve had in some time. 

When you’re done eating, Sirius insists on kissing the saltiness from your cheeks even though your tears have dried. Remus coaxes you into a bath while James and Sirius tidy your room and change your sheets, and then Remus enlists Sirius to shampoo your hair while he tucks your sheets in more effectively. They put your phone on the charger. James makes dinner and puts it in the fridge for you to have later. None of it fixes anything, but he hopes it makes you feel less alone. 

When they have to go out for another call, Remus gives you a long hug, James makes you agree to go on a walk with him the next day, and Sirius threatens to pester you with calls until you block his number if you ignore them ever again. 

Your eye roll at his antics makes James’ heart sing.

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Nature Conservation

Male Crocodile Hybrid Yandere x Gender Neutral Reader

CW: Noncon, no pain, stalking, kidnapping, oviposition, non-human genitals, big slimy reptile dick, fucked senseless, general yandere behavior

Word Count: 550

(Y'all voted for crocodile man so y'all get crocodile man! Not beta read. Please forgive any mistakes.)

Wreck, the crocodile man, was massive. Large even for his species he was over 7ft. tall, and all muscle. His entire body was covered in thick scales, his fingers clawed and his back studded with sharp ridges.

And his long slimy cock, normally tucked away in his genital slit, was currently pounding away relentlessly into your shaking body.

Drool seeping from the corner of your mouth as you made a symphony of pleasured noises.

Wreck couldn't be happier. Your tight warmth felt just perfect around his large reptilian cock. You were made for him, he was convinced of it.

When he first saw you he was intrigued and watched you intently. You were a conservationist working to preserve the mangrove habitat that he called home.

Most humans he had to scare off, they came here drunk and got garbage everywhere. But not you. You did the opposite.

But you weren't stupid, you came with a group that you led to stay safe. Dangers lurked in these waters.

You noticed the croc man watching you and feared he may be hunting you. Which was true. He was hunting you. But not for a meal.

It took him a while to coax you into letting him get close to you. But Wreck was persistent.

It started by shouting conversations and curiously asking you questions followed by gratitude for your efforts to clean the environment. Soon he could sit by you and share food with you.

Wreck figured if he brought you some cooked food it would subconsciously make you aware that he was a capable provider. And it would also put you at ease because you could see he wasn't hungry and even had food to spare. So you would know he had no interest in harming a human for a meal.

He integrated himself into your group and helped you all gather garbage. He even posed for photographs that would be used to promote the work the group was doing.

Finally he got you alone. He clasped your mouth shut and dragged you into the water, swimming away with you to his cozy little cave before anyone noticed your absence.

Wreck wasted no time at all in removing your bothersome clothing and sliding his tapered dick right into you. It was so slimy that you didn't need any preparation and there was no pain, just a sudden fullness.

It had all happened so fast that you were stunned by confusion. One moment you were sitting at the water's edge beside Wreck and the next thing you knew you were being bred.

He put one of his hands at your hips and the other on your chest, claws raking carefully against your flesh but not breaking the skin.

You whimpered loudly as he fucked into you, and began moving back against him, desperate to have him even deeper.

His large body molded around yours as you both came hard.

You were panting, starting to realize what had just happened when, much to your surprise, the cock in you deposited a large egg inside you.

The day had started with dreams of cleaning up the environment for the animals and your crocodile friend. And now you were the environment for a crocodile egg.

And if Wreck had his way then this certainly wouldn't be the last one.

[hello-eden]

Is it Comfort or a Curse?

Damian knows something has not been quite right with Drake since he got back.

Damien didn't quite notice as he had been getting used to a new Batman and the others presents in the house. Drake had not been a priority as he had not been living in the manner and Damian had already gotten Robin.

Drake feels like the Lazarus pit. not quite the same but it's the closest way that Damian can put into words. The Lazarus Pit feels different to everyone or at least that's how Damian likes to think of it.

It seems to give grandfather as well as Todd pure unadulterated rage but it never seems that way to Damian. There was always a comfort to it, a Feeling that he could just sink into it and no harm would come to him. That is not a feeling he should be associating with Drake.

Damian had not been allowed to be left alone with Drake, so it is not completely his fault that he did not notice until now. It took months but eventually they were left alone in the bat cave after a particularly rough patrol and Damien felt it.

The feeling of sourness on their tongue and the feeling as if they had been wrapped in a blanket and pulled into a hug. It is a very particular feeling. it is not exact but nothing can really compare to the full submergence. though it is particularly close to the point that it is unnerving. 

It all really comes to a head when Damien is falling asleep in the living room. They had a sketchbook in front of them and a blanket thrown over their feet. Falling asleep in communal rooms has been becoming a habit. Father & Grayson always seem to be quite happy the day after when they do, so they have no reason to stop the habit now.

They're on the edge of sleep when they see movement out of the corner of their eye. they become a little bit more alert but they still understand that it's most likely one of their siblings.

They end up being correct as it is Drake. Even if they didn't quite see who it was, the sourness on their tongue gives it away. Drake's presence pulls them into a comforting Haze that they become accustomed to in his presence. Damien barely feels the dip in the couch but they certainly feel themself falling on to Drake's shoulder.

Damien tries to fight the sleepiness for all they have gotten a better relationship Damian still feels that there's a possibility that Drake will try and take vengeance. Drake seems to notice this and pulls them closer he feels a press on his forehead and whispers words.

“go to sleep Starlight, I'll be here when you awake” 

All feelings of reluctance leave her body. Ellie will always trust that Danny will keep her safe