#is he blessed with those skills? absolutely

[comfreyhollywings]

every time i look up the tag of gojo satoru - i want to scream at the mischaracterization the poor man's going through 💀

[eustasskidagenda]

Okay, this post is not based on a request. I kept thinking about it for hours and finally decided to write it down: how the OP characters would text their s/o. So here are some texting headcanons for some of my favorite characters: Eustass Kid, Zoro, Sanji, Law, Sabo. I'll probably write a part 2 with my other beloved characters: Luffy, Marco, Killer, and Robin. :D

☆Texting HCs for Kid, Law, Sanji, Zoro & Sabo

CW : g/n reader, MDNI, Kid is cursing, fluff, funny, partly nsfw, mention of alcohol for Zoro 

WC : 2k

Kid

Your name/photo in his contacts: mine. With a photo of your ass, obviously. And when he's mad at you, he renames you mid(ge).

Such a brat.

His wallpaper: a cool photo of his motorbike (I'm sorry but Kid is that kind of man in love with his own bike/car. But it's okay, he's still my favorite.) Or, a pic of your ass.

What kind of pictures are in his gallery: your ass, random photos of your face when he’s teasing you, his bike, and some punk stuff (music, makeup, outfit etc.)

His fav emoji : none.

He likes to send really, really shorts messages. Like : 

"Hi" "u know" "i have an idea" "So listen:"

Goddam Kid, just write the WHOLE sentence in one message.

He's sending you random pictures of his torso, just to flex with his big tiddies.

And you have to respond with a heart emoji and praise him each time.

If you want, he's more than willing to send dick pick too. 

Again, you have to praise him. Even if the pictures are absolutely non-aesthetic. He's blessing you with his cock after all. 

"Babe, you don't know how to take beautiful pics of your dick." "WTF SHUT UP???????? It's MY dick???!!! OF COURSE IT'S BEAUTIFUL??!!!" 

Yeah, Kid is clearly using extra punctuation. 

Oh, sure, each morning, you receive a mirror selfie of his outfit of the day. Such a punk fashion icon. "Rate my outfit on a scale of amazing to amazing" 

He doesn't use emojis because they sound too soft and stupid. "em0teS aRe f0r s0fT b0ys Y/N"

If you complain about his messages looking cold, he might use random emotes to annoy you like "UgH iF U wAnt 🦬" (with that stupid dumb sponge bob meme)

Whenever he calls you, it seems like he's yelling through the phone. 

He likes using caps lock like "HEY Y/N, WANNA FUCK TONIGHT??????" 

He's sending you random punk/rock music. And you have to listen and react to every single music, otherwise he's so pissed off. He is sharing his world with you, the less you can do is interact with him. 

He also loves sending some pics of what he's working on, because Kid likes to repare/custom some cars or motorbike. 

And last thing, I like the idea of Kid Pirates being a punk music band, so sure, Kid loves to send you some videos of him playing guitar. "My fingers are skilled in three things : music, crafting and fingering you all the fucking day long"

His phone is so damaged because he throws it every time he gets angry (like every two minutes).

Law

Your name/photo in his contacts: y/n-ya. With a cursed picture of you. Just to tease you with it. 

His wallpaper: nothing, just the random by default home screen. In his view, wallpapers are useless and pointless.

What kind of pictures are in his gallery: random pictures you took of him, emo memes, and boring stuff about medicine or basic hygiene rules for Luffy. And a guide to "how to stop screaming and how to control your anger: a guide for children" for Kid. 

His favorite emoji: 🖕🏻

Whenever you annoy him with a stupid joke or a prank you saw on TikTok, his immediate reaction is to block you. He's so annoyed, please, leave him alone. He is immediately aware that it is a prank. Luffy always does the same to him before you do.

He's never using capital, it's for the emo aesthetic, like 'I hate bread'. Nope. But ✨"i hate bread."✨, yeah, much better

And yes, he uses "." everytime, it's for the dark and tired emo aesthetic. 

He always leaves a group conversation as soon as you include him. Please, he's so pissed off by those kinds of things. 

He's able to leave your message seen for days. Just because he was busy and forgot about what you said. If you need an answer, sure, try to call him. He always keeps his phone in silent mode. 

He likes to send you cool articles that he reads. Especially about medicine, tattoos or nerd stuff like movies, books, games etc.

"wanna go to a date tattoo with me tomorrow?" 

That kind of question is clearly his love language

He enjoys teasing you with random photos of his tattooed fingers or chest. "I bet you miss these fingers." And yeah, he's clearing curling his fingers on the pic like he would do when they are inside you. He's really good at teasing you with photos. 

Kid and Luffy steal his phone whenever he's with them. So be ready to receive a lot of ugly pictures of Law (taken by the chaotic duo), middle fingers from Kid, and blurry meat pictures from Luffy. 

Poor Law deserves a break.

Sanji 

Your name/photos in his contacts : 💗💘🛐Mon Amour (my love)🛐💘💗 With the most beautiful picture of you. 

His wallpaper : a cute couple photo.

What kind of pictures are in his gallery : a lot of cooking videos or photos, you, aesthetic pic of the sky and a private album with some hot nudes that you sent to him.

His favorites emojis : 💘💗💖🛐💍🧎🌺🌸🌹🫦🥰😘🧑🏻‍🍳🍽🍷🥘 (yeah, Sanji LOVES emojis)

He's always texting you back. If he can't reply within a second, he won't open the text. Sanji, leaving his beautiful s/o with that awful "seen"? Never. 

All the mornings "good morning sweetheart 💘" and all the evenings "sleep well sweetheart, dream about me 💖"

He wants to take a cute and aesthetic pic of the both of you all the days. 

He bombards you with pictures of his cooking. It's cute, but also annoying because he can't help but send extra long texts. He describes every single action he did, along with recipes and tips. 

He enjoys seeing your outfit of the day. He can attempt to match his clothes to yours. 

Random "I love you 💖" and "if no one told you you were pretty today : you're the prettiest 🥰" 

He enjoys sending you cooking videos. "We should eat this tonight. What do you think? 🧑🏻‍🍳"

He's pretty good at sexting. He knows how to take aesthetic photo of his hands, back, or mouth. Not just an ugly dick pick (Kid, Zoro, I'm looking at you). And he also likes to leave you some message like.

I would sit you down on this table if you were with me right now. You know, the one in your kitchen where he had dinner with your parents yesterday? I would gently kiss your neck, fondle your chest, and slowly kneel between your legs until you shout my name. You would pull on my hair, begging me to keep going until you cum repeatedly on my face.  👅 "

And if you send him a nude, well, he's going to die from a nosebleed.

Rest in peace, Sanji. 

Zoro

Your name/photos in his contacts : "y/n". You pick a picture for him because Zoro and phones are not compatible.

His wallpaper : a cool katana

What kind of pictures in his gallery : gym selfies, katanas and alcohol (all with ugly quality)

His fav emojis : 👍🏻 and 😴 Like:

"hey Zoro, you're alright" 👍🏻

"Zoro, wanna hang out?" 😴

"Babe, what are you doing?" 😴

"… am i annoying you?" 👍🏻

He can responds to absolutely anything with those two emojis. 

Zero is so oblivious, so let's be honest: he is not good at using phones. Almost every day, he forgets his phone at home. And even if he didn't forget about it, it's probably on silent mode or just off.

He doesn’t know how to use the keyboard, so prepare yourself for coded-message like "o!. @= sp⛑t t🧹day???/!df🆎e !!"He can't even use the excuse "my cat walked on my keyboard", he just sucks with technology.

Your messages are often "seen ✔️" and that's all. Not because he wants to be mean, just... he didn't understand the concept of answering every text. He takes all of your messages as random information. Like "Hey, I'd love to see you tonight!". Well. OK. Message understood. That's all.

The only application he has on his phone is Google Maps. Even with it, he still gets lost. "Turn left." Without a doubt, he turns right. 

Once, he tried to please you with a dick pic. But the photo was just terrible: bad luminosity, an ugly close-up of his cock, blurred as fuck, and you can see the dirty tissue behind him.

He doesn't answer when you call him because he's either asleep or at the gym (or drunk).

Once, he also tried to send you a voice message, but it was just the sound of the wind. He forgot to talk closer to the microphone.

Sabo 

Your name/photos in his contacts : "my revolutionary 🎩💛". With a beautiful pic of your smiling face. 

His wallpaper : a symbol of revolution. 

What kind of pictures in his gallery : petition screenshots, his brothers, you, anti-capitalist memes and a private album with some hot pic of you (naughty Sabo)

His fav emojis : 🔥✨🖕🏻💛✊🏻😡😏😎🤩👉🏻👌🏻🫵🏻

Sabo is... complicate. Sometimes, he doesn't answer for WEEKS. And sometimes he's extra chatty. And when he's chatty well...

Sabo is always spamming you with petition links. "Save the dolphins", "save the monkeys", "fuck capitalism", "for the resignation of *insert random politician name*" 

"Hey sweetheart, manifestation tomorrow. See you there!! 🫵🏻" 

When it's not petitions, it's probably videos or articles. Sabo is a pure revolutionary. Be prepared to receive lengthy texts when he wants to fight for a cause. It's cute, honestly. He's really involved and passionate. 

"You, me, on a trip tomorrow?! 😏"

Sabo has a knack for surprising you with trips, so prepare yourself. This man craves adventure and surprises. He wants you to join his crazy journey. 

Sometimes, he's using proper grammar and punctuation, sometimes he's using a lot of !!!!!!!!??????? And caps lock. Especially when he's furious about something.  He makes a lot of typo errors because he's always in a rush while typing.

Let's fught  *figrt *fijkt *FUCK *LET'S FIGHT (and fuck)

He enjoys taking pictures of you unexpectedly because it makes you seem more natural. 

"So… sweetheart… we have a new roommate" with a cute pic of a dog/frog/duck/snail/whatever. Sabo has a kind heart. If he sees a wounded or abandoned animal, he feels obliged to adopt it.

And regarding spicy texts… 

Sabo is a kinky boy. So sure, he's thirsty when it comes to sexting/nudes. As a revolutionary, he is also very careful. He always asks you first before sending you nude or spicy texts. If you're willing, then prepare yourself.

A bunch of nudes. Since he's good with them, he won't display his dick in a weird and unattractive angle to you. He enjoys showing you his hands when he's wearing his gloves. Or a mirror photo of his back.

"I know you will scratch it when I'll fuck you tonight 😏"

You're not forced to send him nude or spicy texts back. He respects your boundaries without exception. And if you send him a photo anyway, he's also really nice. Always a comment like "your ass is soooooo good with this angle. I can't believe I'm that lucky 🥵" and if he wants to save a photo for his collection, he's always asking if it's okay with you.

"Sweetie, i have a new toy for you… 💛"

We all know what he's talking about. Naughty Sabo.

[sadnymi]

「 ✦ One of your girls .✦ 」

[Theodore Nott x reader]

Summary: Theodore Nott was the love of my life, the one I'd trade my whole world for. But this summer, I yearned for a different role in his life, even if it meant becoming just one of his girls

Warning:fluff,angst,smut, oral (f!received), fingering, lying about virginity,(+18)

Words:8k

In this world of labels there are , "good boys" and "bad boys," Theodore Nott existed in a category all his own. like devil in disguise, but manlier. And definitely hotter by like a thousand degrees .

As I stood there, captivated by his interaction with a Gryffindor girl, two stark realizations crashed over me. First, I desperately needed to refine my Marauder mischief skills. And More importantly, I needed to bridge the chasm between myself and Theodore. This summer, I wouldn't just be his little sister's best friend; I craved a different role in his life.

Lana's voice, sharp and cutting through my reverie, jolted me back to reality. "Y/N, are you with me?"

"Forgive me, my thoughts wandered," I muttered, composing myself with practiced neutrality.

“I was just saying, I really want Dad to approve this environmental camp," she continued, her enthusiasm undeterred.

"Absolutely," I agreed, forcing a smile. "Those Larus birds undeniably deserve all the protection we can offer." However, my gaze remained tethered to Theodore and his seemingly animated conversation with the Gryffindor girl.

"Right?" Lana beamed. "Perhaps Theo or Christian could help us sway Father?" Lana suggested hopefully.

"An excellent suggestion," I managed, a barbed comment forming on my tongue.

Perhaps your brother would engage in more productive activities than fraternizing with the Gryffindor girl. But I swallowed the retort.

"Christian can be a bit overprotective, bless his heart," Lana began, "but I do believe the 'puppy-dog eyes' technique, as he calls it, might work on Theo," Lana mused cheerfully.believe

A pang of curiosity shot through me. Could this "puppy eyes" technique be effective on Theo as well? I stifled the urge to inquire.

As if sensing my scrutiny, I almost choked on a gasp when he turned, our eyes locking for a beat too long. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, he resumed his conversation with the Gryffindor girl. My mind conjured elaborate – and disturbing – daydreams of her demise.

"Are you alright?" Lana's voice held a hint of worry.

"Perfect," I muttered, the word a lie heavy on my tongue. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the backdrop of my escalating jealousy.

"Then let's proceed," she declared, taking my hand in hers.

The world became a blur as we walked, the proximity to Theo and his unwelcome companion amplifying my agitation. My pulse pounded in my ears, a relentless drumbeat against the backdrop of muted classroom sounds.

Finally, we passed them. Still, Theo's gaze lingered on me, a silent connection that sent a wave of heat through my body. Just as abruptly, , Then in a move that stole the breath from my lungs, the Gryffindor girl cupped Theodore's jaw, pulling him down for a rough, aggressive kiss. I averted my eyes, a wave of nausea washing over me.

“ EWWW “ Lana muttered, mirroring my own disgust.

“Perhaps," I ventured, my voice tight with unspoken emotions, "you should utilize those puppy dog eyes sooner before he gets distracted again “

Potions became a blurry mess of bubbling cauldrons and swirling fumes. Snape's usual scathing commentary faded into the background, as my mind replayed the scene on loop: Theo, his lips locked with the Gryffindor girl, a stranger who somehow managed to snag his attention. Her triumphant smirk as she pulled away felt branded onto my eyelids.

Jealousy gnawed at me like a rogue Flobberworm. Every stolen glance his way felt like a betrayal, a secret message only I could decipher. Was this what Lana meant by "puppy eyes"? Because right now, all I wanted to do was unleash my inner dragon and set the damn girl ablaze.

The Great Hall echoed with the boisterous chatter of lunchtime. As I joined my friends at the Slytherin table, a familiar warmth washed over me – camaraderie, yes, but something more potent simmered beneath the surface. My stolen glance at Theo, however, sent a jolt of conflicting emotions. He was already there, his dark eyes locked on mine for a lingering moment before he averted his gaze.

A playful tug on my braid brought me back to reality. Lana, a mischievous glint in her eyes, was trying to get me out of my misery that she can’t quite understand what gets me into

Mattheo, being his usual blunt self, decided to stir up some trouble, "Just want to make sure the rumors are true. Did our little Y/N break Cedric Diggory's heart?"he said, causing Theo's gaze to intensify on me, igniting a mix of excitement and nervousness within me.

"Sorry, what?" I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper.

"It's okay, y/n, we can see that you're at that age for those kinds of things. What puberty did to you can't go unnoticed,"

My cheeks burned a furious red. The air crackled with tension as Blaise's words hung in the air.

Before I could retort, a cold fury replaced Theo's usual nonchalance. "Shut the hell up, Zabini, before I make you."

His sharp tone silenced the table. I stole a glance at him, he looked relaxed despite his tone , his eyes locked in a silent battle with Blaise. And that was well- very awkward

Matteo, unfazed by Theo's outburst, pressed on. "Back to the broken heart thing, did you really ditch a date with Diggory?"

My cheeks burned under the scrutiny of the table. "It wasn't like that, he understood," I stammered, desperately trying to salvage the situation. "I just said I had to study."

Lana, oblivious to my boiling frustration, jumped in. "No, no, she's just being humble! Cedric was head over heels! He was moping around for days after she said no, his heart practically shattered. Still he can't seem to take his eyes off her today."

I shot her a glare that could curdle milk, but she just winked back, clearly enjoying the drama.

"Why'd you turn him down, then?" Blaise pressed, his amusement evident.

Theo, however, surprised everyone. "She's still too young for that," he muttered. Really? The audacity! My hand twitched, a silent promise of violence aimed at his handsome but infuriating face.

My temper flared. "First of all," I stated, fixing him with a hard stare, "I'm only a year younger than you. Second, I said no because it wouldn't be fair to either of us. I already have feelings for someone else."

A collective gasp rippled through the group.

"You never told me that!" Lana exclaimed, her eyes wide with surprise.

"No," I said, trying to project a confidence I didn't entirely feel. My gaze locked with Theo's, daring him to look away. "I was planning on telling you… tonight."

"Who is this mystery man?" Matteo leaned forward, his tone laced with curiosity. "Do we know him?"

"No, you don't," I lied smoothly, a flicker of defiance sparking in my chest. "He graduated."

A wave of disappointment washed over Blaise's face. "Oooh, Y/N, you sneaky minx! Who knew you had that in you?"

The Hogwarts Express rumbled to a halt, signaling the end of the semester and the glorious (or dreaded, depending on who you asked) freedom of summer. Bidding farewell to Lana, whose eyes held a knowing glint that made me sweat, I trudged off the train, eager to reach the familiar comfort of my own home.

Living just two houses away from Theo and Lana meant constant proximity, which could be either a blessing or a curse depending on how things unfolded. The lie about a mysterious older boyfriend sat heavy in my stomach. It was a desperate attempt to buy myself some breathing room, a chance to navigate the confusing maze of emotions swirling within me.

The oppressive heat of summer hung heavy in the air, mirroring the nervous knot in my stomach. Lana's father had finally approved the conservation camp, and while I was happy for her, a pang of disappointment shot through me. That meant less time to figure things out with Theo.

Taking a deep breath I slipped into a summer dress – the kind that hugged my curves perfectly and left a trail of cool air on my skin.

Taking a deep breath, I crossed the two houses separating our homes and knocked on Theo's door. My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs. What was I even doing here?

The door creaked open, revealing Mrs. Finch, the Nott family housekeeper, her face etched with surprise. "Miss Y/N? What a surprise! Mr. Theo is the only one home, I'm afraid. Miss Lana's still out."

My cheeks flushed crimson. This was not the grand entrance I'd envisioned. "Oh!" I feigned surprise. "Goodness, how forgetful of me. I just realized I left something in Lana's room. Terribly sorry to bother you, Mrs. Finch."

The housekeeper's expression softened. "No trouble at all, dear. Just head on up, third door on the right."

With a mumbled thank you, I practically sprinted up the stairs, my heart thundering in my chest. This impulsive, poorly-planned visit was already spiraling out of control. Would he see through my flimsy excuse? Most importantly, what was I going to say to him once I was alone with him under the guise of borrowing something from Lana?

The familiar chaos of Lana's room swam before my eyes. Clothes littered the floor, forgotten textbooks sat precariously on the desk,I don’t know why she insisted that no one else but her clean her room when she barley do it

"Are you lost?"

The sound of Theo's voice cut through the mental fog. I spun around, heart hammering against my ribs like a frantic hummingbird. He stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, his gaze lingering on me a beat too long.

And then, his eyes scanned me from head to toe, a slow, deliberate sweep that sent a jolt of heat straight to my core. Merlin's beard, I wanted to be on my knees (respectfully, of course). That summer dress, the impulsive visit - everything suddenly felt like a terrible, wonderful mistake.

"N-no," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. "I, uh, just came to… borrow something from Lana." The lie tasted like ashes in my mouth, but I couldn't bring myself to confess my real motive. Not yet, anyway.

Theo pushed himself off the doorframe, taking a slow step closer. The air crackled with a tension that had nothing to do with the summer heat. "Is that right?" he drawled, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine. His eye held an unreadable depth that made my breath hitch.

"Yes," I managed, forcing myself to meet his gaze. "She mentioned a book on… Larus migration patterns? I thought I might borrow it for some summer reading."

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement playing on his lips. "Larus migration patterns, huh? Sounds like a fascinating read for a summer day."

His words were laced with a double meaning, and a blush crept up my cheeks. Was he teasing me? Did he suspect my real reason for being here?

The silence stretched, thick and heavy. My carefully constructed plan was falling apart faster than a poorly brewed Amortentia potion. But before I could stammer out another excuse, Theo surprised me with a soft chuckle.

"Well," he drawled, his voice softer now, "since Lana's not here, perhaps I could help you find the book."

The breath caught in my throat. Here I was, caught red-handed (or rather, red-dressed), and yet, Theo's amusement was oddly disarming. His casual demeanor didn't quite match the intensity I'd glimpsed in his eyes moments ago.

"Really?" I squeaked, my voice barely above a whisper. The air crackled between us, charged with a sudden shift in energy.

A slow smirk played on his lips. "Yeah, why not? Did you want someone else to help you, maybe?"

He took a slow step forward, his presence filling the room. I instinctively leaned back, my back hitting the wall with a soft thud. A thrill shot through me as his eyes lingered on my face, a storm brewing beneath the surface.

"He's not here, though," he drawled, the amusement leaving his voice. "So bad."

Confusion clouded my mind. "He?" I stammered.

Theo's brows furrowed. "Oh, your older, hot crush? That's what you said, right? So you're here all dressed up and making excuses for nothing." The smile that had been playing on his lips vanished completely.

A wave of panic washed over me. "Are you kidding me?" I blurted out, unable to contain my frustration. Heat crept up my cheeks. "Are you that blind?" just then I realized the depth of my mistake. He thought my crush was Christopher, his own brother!

He was close now, so close I could feel the warmth radiating from his body. His hands braced themselves on either side of my face, caging me in. My breath caught in my throat.

"Trapped?" he murmured, his voice a low growl.

If looks could kill, I would have been dead. Theo's expression was a mix of anger, hurt, and confusion. I reached out hesitantly, my fingers brushing against his cheek. Thankfully, he didn't pull away.

"It's not Christopher," I whispered, my eyes darted drawn to the tempting curve of his lips.

"Oh yeah?" he challenged, his voice husky.

I couldn't hold back any longer. This was it. With a surge of desperation, I cupped his face with one hand, the other finding its way to the back of his neck and I kissed him.

It was a moment of pure, unadulterated passion. I was kissing Theo it wasn’t a dream , feeling the heat and intensity of the moment wash over me. My lips on his, our breaths mingling, it was my first kiss, but that fact faded into insignificance. He was the only thing that mattered.

Panic briefly gripped me when he didn't immediately respond to the kiss. I pulled away, searching his eyes for any sign of reciprocation, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Fuck," he muttered, pulling me closer, lifting me effortlessly until my legs were wrapped around his waist. His kiss this time was harder, more urgent, our bodies pressed against the wall as he devoured my lips.

It was a hungry kiss, filled with raw desire and longing. I moaned into his mouth, unable to contain the pleasure that surged through me. As his tongue sought entry, I responded eagerly, my hand finding its way to his shoulder, the other tangling in his hair. It felt intoxicatingly good, every touch sending sparks of pleasure coursing through me.

He didn't stop, his kisses growing more intense, more mind-blowing with each passing second. I felt myself teetering on the edge of something powerful, something I had never experienced before.

When he finally pulled away, our lips still touching, he whispered, "We shouldn't do that." I leaned in, wanting more, desperate to recapture the fire he had ignited within me. But this time, he stopped me with a gentle hand on my cheek.

"We shouldn't," he repeated, his words laced with a battle between desire and control.

" You ... don’t want this?" I asked, desperation creeping into my voice.

"Fucking hell," he muttered, before claiming my lips once more in a kiss that left me breathless and wanting more.

He kept kissing me, then his lips dipped lower, trailing a path of fire down my neck. Each touch ignited a new spark within me, a desperate need for more. But just as quickly, he pulled away, his hand clamping over my mouth the moment a moan escaped my lips.

He released me with a ragged breath, fingers brushing my lips – a touch that felt both accidental and deliberate. "Don't fucking let me do that again," he growled, his expression unreadable.

"Theo..." My voice trembled, a choked whisper lost in the deafening silence.

"Don't," he cut me off, his voice laced with a raw emotion that sent shivers down my spine.

I ignored him, the dam of my emotions threatening to burst. "No, Theo, I do like you so much! No, I think I love–"

He slammed his hand down on the nearest surface, the sharp crack echoing through the room. "Stop talking! Stop fucking talking and get out!"

My heart plummeted to my stomach. I stared at him, disbelief etching lines on my face. This couldn't be happening. This wasn't the answer I'd envisioned.

"I said, get out!" he roared, his voice raw with something akin to despair.

My body reacted before my mind could catch up. Fear, a primal and cold sensation, gripped me. I couldn't stay there, not with that look in his eyes. Tears blurring my vision, I turned and fled. I ran blindly out of the room, my feet pounding against the wooden floorboards. I didn't stop until I was out of the house, gasping for breath on the front porch steps. My legs felt like jelly, my vision obscured by a torrent of tears.

After four days of crying in my room, watching romcoms, and indulging in ice cream, I had practically shut myself off from the outside world. Ignoring calls and messages, I had no intention of leaving my room anytime soon.

But then, my phone started ringing, and the name that flashed on the screen caught my attention – Blaise Zabini. Why was he calling me? I debated whether to answer or not, but curiosity got the better of me.

"Hello?" I answered tentatively.

"Hello, beautiful lady. What are you doing tonight?" Blaise's smooth voice flowed through the phone, surprising me.

"Did you mistake my number for someone else?" I asked, slightly bewildered.

Blaise chuckled. "No, Y/N, I'm calling you. There's a party tonight, and you should come."

I couldn't believe it. Blaise inviting me to a party? It seemed surreal, especially considering how distant I had been lately. "Is this some kind of dare?" I half-jokingly asked, recalling how Lana and I had once begged to be included in their circle last year.

"No, of course not. Lana is away at camp, and I figured you must be bored. Plus, you're old enough now. So, are you coming?" Blaise explained.

I was shocked but managed to say, "Yes."

"Good, I'll pick you up," he said confidently.

"Um, what should I wear?" I asked, feeling a bit out of my depth.

"Something hot for sure," Blaise replied, causing my mouth to drop open. Surely, there must be more to it than just small talk and an unexpected invitation.

I dragged myself out of bed, feeling a bit more alive than I had in days. The prospect of going out, even to a party, was both daunting and oddly exciting. I made my way to the bathroom, deciding that a hot shower would do wonders for my mood.

The water cascaded down my skin, washing away some of the heaviness that had settled over me. I washed my hair, taking extra care to make it look presentable. After all, Blaise had mentioned something about looking hot, and I wanted to at least make an effort.

Once out of the shower, I wrapped myself in a fluffy towel and stood in front of the mirror, contemplating my options. My wardrobe seemed to mock me with its array of dresses, each one a reminder of happier times. But tonight was different. I wanted to feel good, even if just for a few hours.

My eyes settled on a vibrant off-shoulder red dress, short enough to be playful yet elegant. It had been a while since I'd worn something so bold, but tonight felt like the perfect occasion. Slipping into the dress, I couldn't help but admire how it hugged my curves in all the right places.

With my hair styled in loose waves cascading down my shoulders, I turned to my makeup. Opting for a subtle smokey eye and a bold red lip to match the dress, I added a touch of highlighter to give my skin a healthy glow.

Just as I finished applying the last stroke of mascara, my phone rang again. It was Blaise, letting me know that he was waiting outside. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed my purse and headed out.

A slow smirk spread across Blaise's face as he took in my entire outfit. "Damn, Y/N," he said, his voice dropping a cool octave. "You look goodness. Tonight, you're not just breaking hearts, you're shattering them."

"Thanks," I managed, trying to project an air of confidence I wasn't entirely sure I possessed.

The drive to the bar was a blur of conversation and upbeat music. Blaise gave me a heads-up that this was a different scene than the usual hangouts Lana and I frequented. No sticky floors or questionable punch here. This place oozed sophistication with a healthy dose of trendy vibes.

The closer we got, the bigger the butterflies became. "Just a heads-up," Blaise said casually, "Theo's gonna be there."

My eyes widened like headlights caught on high beams. "Why are you telling me this?" I blurted, my voice shaky.

Blaise held up his hands in mock surrender. "Whoa there, little firecracker. Easy now. Listen, I know what happened," he said, his tone gentle but firm.

He paused, his gaze meeting mine in the rearview mirror. "You've got two choices tonight," he continued, his voice low and serious. "Option one: Go in there, drown your sorrows in overpriced cocktails, and cry yourself to sleep like you have been for the past week. Option two: You walk in that door, head held high, and have the best damn night of your life. Show him what a colossal mistake he made. But more importantly, have fun. Forget Theo for the night. You deserve it."

My initial suspicion flared. How did Blaise know about Theo? Did Theo tell everyone, maybe even paint some twisted narrative of what happened? The worst-case scenario played in my head: everyone knowing I'd forced myself on him. I pushed those thoughts down, refusing to let them take root.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" I asked, my voice laced with a hint of suspicion.

Blaise raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. "Oh, the nerve! Here I am, trying to be the ever-so-charming host, and you accuse me of… niceness?" He placed a hand dramatically over his chest. "Honestly, Y/N, I'm deeply wounded."

I couldn't help but laugh, the sound light and genuine. It felt good, a welcome change from the constant ache in my chest. As we pulled into the bar's crowded parking lot, I spotted a familiar face – the Gryffindor girl from school, the one with a permanent case of RBF.

Suddenly, the prospect of a night out filled with new faces and zero Theo drama seemed a whole lot more appealing.

"Alright," I announced, a determined glint in my eyes. "Going inside and having fun sounds way better."

Blaise's smirk widened. "Now you're talking," he said, finally pulling the car to a stop. "Let's do this."

We pushed through the heavy bar doors, the sudden wave of loud music and flashing lights hitting me like a physical blow. My eyes squinted against the assault, struggling to adjust to the dim, pulsing atmosphere. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, spilled alcohol, and something vaguely floral that I couldn't quite identify.

Then I saw it.

Bodies. Everywhere bodies. Couples intertwined on couches, limbs tangled in a way that left little to the imagination. People grinding against each other on the dance floor, clothes barely clinging to their sweaty forms. My mouth fell open in a silent scream.

"Are you kidding me, Blaise?" I shrieked, my voice barely audible over the pounding music. "Did you invite me to an orgy ?"

Blaise chuckled, his earlier cool persona replaced by something a little more… suggestive. "Not quite, sweetheart," he drawled. "But if you're interested, I know a guy…"

Blaise winked, then turned his attention to a group of women across the room. My stomach churned. Had he brought me here just to ditch me?

"Where are you going?" I demanded, grabbing his arm before he could slink away.

He looked back at me, a sly smile playing on his lips. "You wouldn't want to know, sweetheart. Trust me." Before I could argue, he was weaving his way through the crowd, leaving me stranded in a sea of strangers.

Panic clawed at my throat. I was completely out of my element, suffocated by the throbbing music and the overt displays of affection. Trying to navigate the throng of people felt like trying to walk through a mosh pit. Elbows jabbed, drinks sloshed, and muttered curses collided with the music. Every step forward felt like a battle.

Just when I was on the verge of tears, a familiar voice cut through the din.

"Y/N? Is that you?"

I snapped my head towards the source of the sound, relief washing over me like a tidal wave. There, standing a few feet away, was Cedric Diggory, a friendly face from Hogwarts. He looked as surprised to see me as I was to see him.

"Oh, thank God!" I exclaimed, practically throwing myself at him. He caught me with a smile, a steady presence in the swirling chaos.

"What are you doing here?" I blurted out, clinging to him like a lifeline. "I came with Blaise, but… well, he kinda ditched me."

Cedric's smile faltered slightly, but he recovered quickly. "Don't worry about him," he said reassuringly. "I can take you home if you want."

The offer was tempting, a safe haven from the overwhelming sensory overload. But then my gaze fell across the crowded room, landing on Theo. He was… well, making out with someone. Not just anyone, but two someones. His hands were everywhere, his lips moving feverishly between two very enthusiastic girls.

The sight of him sent a fresh wave of anger and hurt coursing through me. I wanted to scream, to cry, to set the whole place on fire. But instead, I did something completely unexpected.

"Actually," I said, my voice surprisingly steady, "Do you want to dance?"

A slow smile spread across my face as Cedric offered his hand. Relief momentarily eclipsed the anger simmering beneath the surface. He led me onto the dance floor, his touch light and hesitant on my waist. Compared to Theo's rough possessiveness, it felt… foreign.

"Theodora Nott," I muttered under my breath, the name a bitter curse on my tongue. Every fiber of my being ached to tear my gaze away from Theo.

Cedric's breath tickled my ear as he spoke, but my mind was elsewhere. Then, our eyes met. Theo's. His face contorted in a mixture of surprise and disbelief, like he'd seen a ghost.

Theo seemed momentarily speechless, his jaw clenched tight. Then, in a move that surprised even me, he shoved the two girls aside, their confused faces momentarily forgotten. He barged his way through the crowd, a determined scowl on his face.

"Diggory," he spat, his voice laced with venom.

"Nott," Cedric replied, a flicker of confusion crossing his features.

"Think I can take this from here?" Theo said, his gaze never leaving mine. "Thanks for keeping Y/N company."

Cedric glanced between us, a hesitant frown creasing his brow. Knowing I needed to act fast, I plastered a sickly sweet smile on my face.

"It's alright, Cedric," I chirped, my voice dripping with fake sincerity. "Theo's here now, and you know, practically like a brother to me."

Theo's jaw clenched tight, his anger barely contained. It fueled a fire within me, a perverse satisfaction at seeing him squirm. Cedric, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension, simply nodded and melted back into the crowd.

As soon as he was out of sight, I reached out and lightly touched Theo's arm. "Hello, brother," I purred, the word laced with mockery. "Enjoying yourself?"

He swatted my hand away, his voice tight with irritation. "What the hell do you think you're doing here?"

"Dancing, drinking, you know ," I replied, my voice light and carefree. "Hopefully getting some… you know, without having to share." I couldn't resist adding a pointed jab at his earlier display of affection.

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "That's not the right answer, Y/N."

"Oh, so now you're the authority on what's right and wrong?" I scoffed. "Just get lost and let me enjoy my night."

"Not happening," he growled, stepping closer. For a fleeting moment, I swear his eyes flickered to my lips, sending a tremor of something unexpected through me.

"Not happening," he countered, his eyes flickering towards my lips for a fleeting moment.

A shiver ran down my spine, but I refused to let it show. "So you get to have fun, but I can't? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you were having a blast with your little… (here I paused, searching for the perfect comedic insult) …buffet." I forced a smile, pushing myself away from him in a playful, yet firm, manner.

He didn't get a chance to retort before a gasp escaped my lips. A clumsy dancer, fueled by who-knows-what concoction, careened into me, spilling the entirety of his drink down my dress. The scarlet fabric clung to my body like a second skin, leaving little to the imagination.

Theo let out a frustrated curse under his breath. "Damn it, Y/N, and your damn stubborn red dresses ," he muttered, before grabbing my arm and pulling me away from the crowd. His gaze darted around frantically, before settling on a nearby staircase.

The world spun a little faster as Theo pulled me through the crowd, his grip tight on my arm. We navigated through bodies and flashing lights, finally ending up near a darkened stairway leading upwards. He pushed open a door, revealing a large, beautifully furnished room – a stark contrast to the party raging outside.

"Stay here," he instructed, his voice low and urgent.

I rolled my eyes, annoyed at his bossiness but strangely comforted by his protectiveness.My mind was still reeling from the sudden alcohol shower, my thoughts fuzzy and disconnected.

Theo's presence alone was overwhelming. All the anger, hurt, and confusion I'd been feeling seemed to coalesce into a potent cocktail of emotions. My mind, however, wasn't processing things clearly. The red dress clinging to my body, the sting of Theo's earlier words, the memory of seeing him with those girls – it all swirled together in a chaotic mess.

Ignoring the instruction to stay put, I crossed the room and locked the door with a satisfying click. Grasping the hem of the ruined dress, I ripped it upwards in one swift motion. There, standing before a giant mirror, was me in all my red lace glory – bra and panties matching the ruined dress.

Theo stepped in, a black t-shirt clutched in his hand. His gaze locked with mine, a slow burn spreading across his face. He scanned me from head to toe, his eyes lingering on the shocking red lace bra and matching panties that were now my only attire.

For a moment, the room seemed to shrink, the music fading into a distant hum. The air crackled with a tension that sent a jolt of electricity through me.

"You're drunk, aren't you?" he finally managed, his voice rough with a mix of concern and something else – something deeper.

The question snapped me out of my haze. A defiant chuckle escaped my lips. "Not a single Shot," I replied, my voice surprisingly steady as I walked towards him.

The t-shirt fluttered to the floor, forgotten. His eyes were fixed on me, his face a mask of conflicting emotions. I stopped just inches from him, tilting my head up to meet his gaze.

"What are you doing?" he whispered, his face just inches from mine. The heat of his body radiated against mine, intensifying the buzz in my head.

"We don't have to be in love," I slurred, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. A part of me knew this was insane, But another part just craved his attention, his touch.

All I craved was his attention, his touch.

"I just wanna be… one of your girls tonight," I continued, my voice barely above a whisper. A shiver ran down my spine as the reality of my words hit me. Was I really saying this? But then I remembered Theo with those other girls, the way they would whisper about him at school, the way they boasted about their "experiences" with him.

Suddenly, a strange sense of defiance mixed with a simmering desire fueled my next words. "I want what you give them," I confessed, my eyes locked on his. "The kind of thing they brag about to their friends for years."

He reached out, a single finger brushing against my cheek. My breath hitched at the contact.

"Give me tough love don’t hold back," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. "Push me, choke me. Show me what it's like to be… yours even if it’s just for a night ." My voice dropped even lower. "Anything," I whispered, "just don't pretend you don't want me."

My words hung heavy in the air, the audacity of them making my cheeks burn. But before I could even think about backtracking, Theo surged forward, scooping me up into his arms. A gasp escaped my lips as he pulled me close, the familiar scent of his cologne washing over me.

He lifted me, wrapping my legs around his waist as he pulled me close. My hands instinctively found purchase on his broad shoulders, the heat radiating through his shirt setting my skin alight.

"That's wrong," he rasped, his lips brushing dangerously close to mine.

"It's not," I insisted, the defiance laced with a desperate plea.

He didn't answer. Instead, he kissed me. It was a hard kiss, desperate and hungry, as if he was trying to erase everything that had come between us. My body melted against his, all thoughts fleeing my mind except for the fierce press of his lips against mine.

He carried me across the room, depositing me onto a large table. pulled away after what felt like an eternity, his eyes blazing with an intensity that sent a tremor through me. He pushed a stray strand of hair from my face, his eyes searching mine. "I'd hold onto something, if I were you." he murmured, his voice thick with possessiveness that both terrified and excited me.

My fingers brushed against his face, his warm breath ghosting over my lips as he leaned down.

His hand moved down my body, a slow, deliberate caress that sent shivers erupting across my skin. His fingers grazed my thighs, a light touch that somehow managed to ignite a fire within me. My breath hitched, a moan escaping my lips as desire battled with the remnants of reason.

His lips brushed against my ear, his voice a husky whisper against my sensitive skin. "Choose a word," he murmured, his breath sending shivers down my spine.

I nodded numbly, unsure if I would even be able to speak if I needed to.

"Red," I managed to whisper, my voice laced with desire as his lips trailed along my neck, eliciting a soft moan from deep within me.

"Fucking red again," he muttered, his lips pressing against my skin with a hunger that ignited a fire within me. I arched my neck, offering him more access, more of me.

"You use this if it gets too much, understood?" he said, his voice commanding. I nodded eagerly.

He continued to kiss my jaw and neck with an intensity that left me breathless. My hand tangled in his hair, urging him closer. When he bit down on a sensitive spot on my neck, I couldn't contain a scream of pleasure.

His hand cupped my core through my panties, and I instinctively gripped his shoulder, my body responding to his touch. I had never experienced anything like this before, but I couldn't admit that to him.

"Have you done anything like this before?" he asked, his breath hot against my earlobe. I moaned softly as I lied, nodding in response.

"Yes," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the rush of sensations.

He parted my legs forcefully and held my jaw in his hand, locking eyes with mine. "You did?" he questioned, a hint of possessiveness in his tone.

I nodded again, unable to speak as desire coursed through me.

"He's dead, whoever he is," he declared, sending a shiver down my spine. His fingers slipped inside my panties, and I gasped at the sudden intimacy, my body responding eagerly to his touch.

"Theo," I managed to gasp out, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Yes, baby?" he responds, his voice deep and husky. The way he says "baby" sends shivers down my spine. It feels too good, too right, felt like a sweet caress to my soul.

"You can do whatever you want to me," i whispered, my fingers tracing his jawline. "Anything."

He responds by parting my lips with his finger leaning down to take my lower lips into his kiss. It's so soft, so gentle, that I feel like I've been transported to heaven. His tongue enters my mouth at the same time he touches my clit, and I moan.

He rubs my clit in gentle circles, and I hold onto his shoulder, digging my nails into his skin. He pulls away from the kiss, my lips are still on his, and I moan into his mouth. His tongue continues to explore mine as his fingers work their magic.

"Oh Merlin," I cry out, and he smiles against my cheek.

"Not Merlin, baby, but me," he whispered against my cheek, his touch sending me spiraling further into ecstasy. He added a finger inside me, and I cried out, my back arching with pleasure.

"Fuck, you're so tight. You sure you've done this before?" he questioned, a hint of disbelief in his voice. I've done this before, in my dreams, with him. I bite my lip to keep from moaning too loudly, and he looks displeased with that.

"Keep making those sounds, I love the sound of your voice," he says, and I do it again. He stops kissing me” you did that again and i stop, understood? “ I nodded immediately.

He’s not done yet. He pushed my bra strap down, placing kisses along the exposed skin.

His fingers start to move faster, as he kissed me, swallowing all my moans. He adds another finger, and I scream, my back arching again.

I bite my lips without even noticing and he slowed his movements I hold onto his hand fast, afraid he'll stop.

"Please don't stop, I'll be good, I promise," I beg, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Fuck, say it again," his gaze intense with desire.

"I'll be good, Theo," I repeated, my voice a desperate plea.

He moves his fingers faster in response, hitting a spot inside me that makes me see stars. He keeps hitting it, over and over again, while circling my clit.

"I'm going to--" I try to say, but I can't finish my sentence. Pleasure consumes me, and I scream his name. He plays with my hair, pushing my tears and hair away from my face.

"I know, sweet girl," he murmured, his words pushing me over the edge into a mind-blowing orgasm."So sweet, so good."

He watched me with intense desire as I came, his fingers never ceasing their movements. "And so fucking hot," he added as he looked at me while experiencing his own release.

“you look so pretty when you’re cumming for me,” he murmured, placing soft kisses on my neck

I breathed heavily as he pulled his hands from me, bringing his fingers to his mouth and savoring my cum. "You taste so sweet, baby," he murmured, his gaze locked on mine.

He cupped my face, placing soft kisses on my lips, again and again. "So sweet, so angelic,"

With a gentle touch, he lifted me from the table, carrying me softly and placing me on the bed. His face was close to mine, his nose brushing against mine, and he kissed me deeply. I moaned as he opened my bra clips, leaning down to place a soft kiss on my jawline, then my collarbone.

He traced his way down, kissing every inch of my body until he reached my breasts. I closed my eyes as he put a soft kiss on them, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Eyes on me, baby. Don't shut them," he commanded, and I nodded, my breath heavy. I looked at him, my love for him overwhelming.

With each lick and kiss, I moaned louder, the pleasure building with every touch, and I arched my back, my fingers gripping the sheets.

With a final lick, he traced his way down, kissing every inch of my body. He kissed my stomach and looked up at me, his gaze intense.

He parted my legs, the sight of him between them is my idea of heaven. I nodded, and he pulled my panties down.

As he pulled my panties down, I felt a rush of shyness,"You will keep them open," he said, and I nodded again , my breath hitching.

"Good girl," he praised, his lips trailing kisses along my thighs. I couldn't resist running my fingers through his soft hair, pushing it from his face.

"You want rough love, you say?" he stated, using my own words against me.

"Yes," I moaned, my mouth gasping as I felt his mouth on my wet pussy.

"And you keep listening to what those girls say?" he asked.

"Yes, and it hurts," I managed to say.

"So I have to make up for it then, baby, don't you think?" he asked,

He didn't waste time. His tongue explored my folds, and it felt strange but in a good way. He licked and sucked, and I felt like I might explode.

He kept doing it, for what felt like an eternity. He kept my legs open, and my back ached. I cried heavily, it was the best thing I had ever felt. I could feel my body already over the edge.

"Don't cum," he said, and I shook my head. He continued eating me out, so much. I could feel his fingers inside me, and I screamed again.

"Please," I begged, unable to resist the overwhelming pleasure he was giving me.

"You cum, and it's over," he warned, his finger entering me gently.

I held onto his shoulder tightly, my body teetering on the edge. "Say the word, and I'll stop," he offered.

But I couldn't bring myself to say it. "No," I managed to whisper, my voice filled with need and desire.

His tongue flicked my clit, and I felt my orgasm building. I screamed his name, and he kept going, pushing me further and further over the edge. I screamed again, and again, and again. I couldn't take it anymore, and I came hard, my body shaking with the force of it.

He looked up at me, his lips glistening with my juices.

I was still trying to catch my breath from what just happened as Theo's words registered in my mind. "You are a virgin," he said, and I shook my head fast, trying to dispel the shock.

"No, no, I'm not. The boys I've been with before weren't experienced," I managed to say, feeling a rush of embarrassment at my slip of words. Why did I say "boys"?

Theo's gaze held fire as he processed my words. "Boys?" he repeated, his voice tinged with something I couldn't quite decipher.

I immediately felt the need to defend myself. "You don't think I'm attractive enough to be with more than one boy in my life?" I asked, a hint of defiance in my tone.

"Quite the opposite," he assured me, but his expression remained serious. "I want to know who dared and did that," he added, his eyes searching mine.

I bit my lip nervously, realizing the implications of what I had unintentionally revealed. Boys were afraid to pursue Lana because of Theo's reputation, but the way he reacted made me wonder if he wasn't threatening the boys for just getting close to lana .

"You can't just control who I can be with, Theo," I said, surprised at my own boldness.

"I think I can," he asserted firmly.

I took a breath, trying to calm the tension that crackled between us. "I won't mind," I said softly, my voice pleading. "I would do anything to please you. I would do anything you ask me to."

"Stop talking like that, y/n," he ordered, his tone strained.

"Okay," I acquiesced, sensing that I had crossed a line.

"Fuck," he cursed under his breath, clearly struggling with his own emotions.

I reached out and touched his hand that was on my face, trying to ease the tension. I smiled while kissing his hand, then surprised both of us by putting one of his fingers inside my mouth and sucking on it gently.

"You are going to be the death of me," he muttered, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

"I need you, Theo, all of you, even just for the night, please," I pleaded, desperate for him to understand.

"Don't cry, unless it's from the pleasure I give you," he said, brushing away my tears gently.

I propped myself up on my elbow to get closer to him, craving his touch and his reassurance. He kissed me again, and in that moment, I felt like I could live in this bliss forever.

He reached for a condom, and I tried not to show my nerves as he prepared himself. His size was daunting, and I couldn't help but wonder how it would fit inside me. My head hit the pillow again as he spread my legs, his hardness teasing my entrance.

He entered me slowly, and I cried out as the pain shot through me, tears streaming down my face. "You are a fucking virgin," he exclaimed, his own frustration evident.

"It's not a fucking game, y/n," he continued, his tone softer but still edged with tension.

"I'm sorry, please do something," I pleaded, feeling overwhelmed.

He wiped my tears away, his features softening. "Fuck, baby, don't cry. It will get better, I promise. Just relax," he reassured me, his voice soothing.

"Breathe, it's just me," he added, placing kisses on my forehead and then my cheek.

"I think... I think you can move now, please," I managed to say, trying to regain my composure.

He held my face in his hand while the other supported him as he moved slowly, allowing me to adjust to him. I closed my eyes, focusing on the pleasure and the connection between us.

"You want fast, I can take it," I said, unsure if I was ready but wanting to prove myself to him.

"It's not a competition, y/n. You don't have to prove anything, baby,"

"The girls you've been with, they must have..." I started to say, but he cut me off.

"They didn't matter. You do," he said, surprising both of us with his confession.

He settled into a rhythm that felt perfect, and I closed my eyes, reveling in the sensations. His thrusts ranged from slow and tender to fast and intense, driving me wild with pleasure.

"Talk to me," he urged, and I struggled to form coherent sentences amidst the pleasure.

"It feels... good," I managed to say, my words coming out in fragmented breaths.

"Yeah?" he questioned, and I nodded, unable to articulate just how amazing it felt.

He increased his pace, and I arched my back, meeting his movements eagerly. "What about this?" he asked, his touch sending waves of pleasure through me.

"Do it again," I begged, wanting more of him, more of this intense pleasure.

He obliged, and the pleasure intensified, pushing me closer to the edge of ecstasy. I moaned and cried out his name, lost in the sensations that only he could evoke.

He thrust a few more times, then finally reached his own peak, his body collapsing slightly against mine as we both caught our breaths.

After a moment, he pulled out and disposed of the condom, then lay beside me.

Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating. I was afraid to talk afraid to ruin what we just had, My hand hovered in the air, reaching for his face, but Theo stopped me, his grip surprisingly tight on my wrist.

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drum solo against the backdrop of my racing thoughts. Please, no. Not the cold shoulder again.

" The- Theo," I whispered, my voice trembling, but he pushed my hand away before I could say more. His sudden change left me feeling lost and vulnerable, like I had done something terribly wrong.

"You… sore?" he finally spoke, his voice strained.

I blinked, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. The Theo who had been making love to me just minutes ago seemed to have vanished. This was the cold, distant Theo I knew all too well.

"A little," I managed to whisper, my voice cracking.

"Then get dressed," he said curtly. "I'm taking you home. Your big night is over." his words cutting through me like knives. I tried to speak, to explain, but he silenced me with a stern command. "Not a word, y/n. Not a fucking word."

He got out of bed and started putting on his clothes, tossing a t-shirt and his jacket in my direction. As he grabbed my phone and things, I felt my heart shatter into a million pieces. It was as if everything we had shared meant nothing to him.

As shaky legs carried me to my feet, I pulled on the clothes, tears blurring my vision. A choked sob escaped my lips, and another, and another.

"Congratulations, Y/N," I whispered to myself, my voice raw with emotion. "You're officially one of his girls."

"Congratulations, y/n. You’re officially one of the girls," he remarked, his words cutting deep into my already wounded heart.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Part2

[fuckyeahisawthat]

I’ve had my share of [Crowley voice] you idiot thoughts at both of them over their terrible communication skills and severe chronic inability to say what they mean. But like. I get it.

For 6000 years, they had to talk in code. They had to express themselves in grand gestures and subtext and plausible deniability, out of fear of being found out. And they got really good at it! They developed a whole secret language of ways to say I love you because they couldn’t say it out loud.

But now that they can—and need to—talk about what they are to each other with actual words, they don’t know how.

Neither of them know how to say what they want, openly, and to ask what the other wants. And (I think this is a crucial component) they don’t know how to fight. They’ve had enough spats to have a 350+ year old apology dance, but they have repeatedly avoided talking about the really big differences in their worldviews and what they value, because those conversations would immediately bump up against the things they try hardest to avoid (doubt and guilt for Aziraphale; rejection for Crowley), and because that could lead to a real disagreement that they don’t know how to get around. And then where would either of them be? Alone.

So they bicker and they have drunken philosophical debates and they make up and do little dances all while not really talking about the big differences in how they see the world. And then when the pressure is on they have horrible miscommunication blowouts where they end up talking past each other and hurting each other deeply because they don’t even realize they’re not on the same page.

Upon rewatch I think this is part of why Crowley seems so unhappy in the early episodes. I think he did hope that once they weren’t working for Heaven and Hell, things would go in a more explicitly romantic direction. (But of course he won’t just come out and say that, until the absolute last ditch moment.) From his POV, he’s made his desires perfectly clear (he hasn’t) and I think he thought that working for Heaven was the last thing holding Aziraphale back. And then they cleared that hurdle and nothing changed. Or not enough. Because the problem goes deeper than that.

And bless(/damn) them, they’re still trying. The confession was clearly so hard for Crowley, and would have been even without the first half of the scene, because he’s working against his deepest insecurities. He can’t even finish his sentences, and yet he’s still trying. And I do think that Aziraphale was working up to his own version of it (he’s so openly physically affectionate with Crowley this season, much more than in the past) but he’s always moved a bit slower with these things, and then it was too late. (It’s always too late.)

But even if they’d both been able to openly say their I love yous, they still have this thing sitting between them, which is that Aziraphale doesn’t understand why Crowley would never go back to Heaven, and Crowley doesn’t understand why Aziraphale would want to. And having that conversation goes right to the heart of how they’ve both been damaged by the system of Heaven and Hell, which is why I suspect they’ve both instinctively avoided it before now. And at some point in s3, they are going to have to talk about that.

[agoodflyting]

Why Aziraphale's White Satin Pumps Are Ridiculous (And I love them)

So this is a continuation of the lengthy rant I posted here about Aziraphale's outfit in the Bastille scene of GO and all the ways it would have pissed people in Revolutionary Paris off. I got to the shoes and realized they needed their own post.

Aziraphale's Blessed Little White Satin Pumps

To recap: in 1793, Paris is in control of The People, who are making up for decades of oppression and poverty by beheading the fuck out of everyone remotely nobility-adjacent. And into this mess strolls one Angel in white satin heels.

Some facts about this style of shoe:

The buckle means they're specifically court shoes as opposed to streetwear. Buckles were out of fashion unless you were hanging out with royalty and needed to look fancy. Everyday shoes had laces by this point.

This heel style for men is specifically called Louis Heels because they were popularized by Louis XVI. Y'know... the king Paris just beheaded in 1793. Here's a pair in a similar style from the late 18th century:

One big difference you may notice in Aziraphale's shoes and the ones above is that the ones above are normal, practical leather whereas Aziraphale is wearing white satin shoes. This is because Aziraphale is ridiculous.

The Allure of White Satin Shoes

In this modern world of laundry machines and affordable shoes I feel that people do not fully understand how absolutely over-the-top ridiculous a pair of white satin shoes would be to people in 1793.

First off lets address the fact that they're white:

If you have ever known anyone who was super into sneakers, you know that keeping white shoes white is a full-time job. It was even more so in the 18th century. The fact that Aziraphale is wearing perfectly clean white shoes says one thing: "I am rich enough to be able to pay someone to clean these, and to replace them when they invariably get stained."

And they would get stained. Oh would they get stained.

Because he is not wearing them for their intended function - lazing around indoors. No, he is wearing them on the streets of 18th Century Paris. And 18th Century Paris was fucking disgusting.

Kind of like how London had its famed London Smog, Paris had its own brand of filth. A unique Parisian muck made up of mixtures of mud, offal from the slaughterhouses, animal waste, human waste, household garbage, and rotting dead animals, all mashed down into what a British visitor called, "A thick, black, unctuous oil, that where it sticks no art can wash it off."

Voltaire said: "We blush with shame to see the public markets, set up in narrow streets, displaying their filth, spreading infection, and causing continual disorders…" and called Paris a city, "Partly of gold and partly of muck."

This is a city with over a million people, with no central plumbing, and no public sanitation laws. Households threw their waste in the streets. Businesses like tanneries and slaughterhouses threw their waste right out into the streets. Horses were the main mode of transportation and nobody was cleaning up after them. It was apparently a thriving hustle that Parisian beggars would hang out in the worst areas with big pieces of wood, and charge wealthy people money to walk on the board over the worst puddles of filth.

That's where Aziraphale is wearing his pristine little white satin shoes. In a city so gross it has its own world-renowned stinking black mud.

And on the subject of those shoes, lets look at the satin part... By the 18th Century, France was no longer dependent on Asia for its silk and satin. There was domestic production, but it was still expensive. A book about the cost of living published in London in 1770 lists the price for a single yard of satin at just over 18 shillings. For comparison, here are some other things you could get for 18 shillings in London at the time:

two box seats at Covent Garden

six barrels of oysters

a really nice wig

a week's wages for a skilled tradesman

15 steak dinners

3 secondhand coats So the outer fabric alone on Aziraphale's shoes cost what it would take a skilled worker about a week to make. Again, that's just for the fabric. Since the shoes themselves were high quality, would be handmade, and required skilled labor, the shoes themselves would be expensive even without the satin. In 1788 a pair of leather gentleman's court shoes cost about 6 livres in France. By comparison, a pound of bread, which was considered a day's food for a peasant, cost roughly 10 sous. So we'll roughly estimate that Aziraphale's shoes without the satin cost the equivalent of 12 days worth of food for an average person.

And, I cannot stress this enough, he is wearing these white shoes, which could easily feed an entire family for weeks, in a city that is abso-fucking-lutely filthy with stinking, staining, sticky mud.

Aziraphale's shoes, probably:

I mean - imagine you're a normal everyday French peasant during the Revolution. You spend decades struggling to feed your family, and some dingbat walks up to you in white court shoes styled after the king you just executed. Shoes that cost more than you make in a month, which he is wearing around your notoriously filthy city with apparently 0 fucks given for the fact that they will be absolutely ruined and will have to be thrown away. (Obviously Aziraphale could just miracle them clean but you're a revolutionary peasant, you don't know that.)

And then this walking audacity asks you for cake.

Aziraphale, hon, you are so lucky they decided to try to execute you and not just like. jump your dumb ass in an alley and steal your pretty little white satin shoes.

[allysdelta]

Some long-overdue fan art for @asleepyyy 's delicious Good Omens roleswap AU, Oopsie!Omens. They are cranking out comic pages like an absolute maniac right now, and I can't help but be in awe of both the commitment and the creativity.

Thoughts below:

Oopsie!Omens, for those who don't keep up with the comic, roughly follows the events of the Good Omens TV show, but with one significant change: Aziraphale deliberately takes the fall on the Starmaker's behalf back before the Beginning, so here, our ineffable duo are the demon Azazel and the Archangel Jophiel. So far, Jophiel hasn't learned what exactly transpired, but bless it if this odd little barn owl demon isn't both strangely familiar and inexplicably endearing...

This has been the first roleswap/reverse Omens AU that I have been able to get on board with, largely because our heavenly/hellish pair are recognizably them; Azazel is devout, meticulous, and willing to march into the unthinkable to defend what he loves, while Jophiel is clever, snarky, jaded, fiercely protective, and will let nothing stand in the way of finding the truth.

Besides the above, there are two things I really love about this comic: One is that the artist has taken considerable liberty with the ways that the two appear over time, through mannerisms and costume, and every form they take, whether it's a palette change or gender presentation, is a delight. The other is watching how the comic, from a technical and storytelling standpoint, keeps outdoing itself. The artist was always skilled, but it is sheer pleasure to see how much their work advances with each update.

Did I mention that the comic is also funny? It is FUNNY. Brace yourself for the occasional heart stab, though.

Azazel's hands burn when he attempts to pray to God. The thought of the smoke forming art nouveau-esque swirls was entirely too good to pass up.

The actual art (watercolor pencil, layered over with standard colored pencil) looks a bit more radiant in person. My camera was more interested in the pencil marks than the colors.

Asleepyy, if you're reading this, stay well, don't burn yourself out, and know we'll always understand if you need to take a break!

[sweetandsavageautistic]

(CW: Cringe, Autism Parents stuff, drunk mention, infantilization)

So I don't have a degree in Graphic Design, but I do have a sense of general aesthetic. I figured that it's April. Let's rate, and potentially verbally tear apart and drag through the mud, some autism shirts and graphic designs, and I'll probably do a part 2, these scores are only semi-arbitrary: First up is this:

Already off the top, I am confusion because it seems to read "I wear puzzle cousin autism awareness". Sounds like whoever made this was drunk.

Puzzle pieces, ew.

The red, yellow, green, and blue look like the shades you'd see in elementary school, so that seems pretty infantilizing.

Autism Awareness, I am very much aware of my existence.

Final Score: 0 out of 10. Designer, go home; you're drunk.

Next we have this:

This one already has a slight advantage over the first because it's at least coherent in terms of the message.

Elementary school colors, but make it extra tacky.

Puzzle pieces; don't try to bullshit me by putting the autism awareness banner over it, I can see the other indents that make them puzzle pieces.

Once again, I am well aware of my own existence.

At least it's a smaller design.

Final Score: 0.5 out of 10, and that's being generous.

Next one's not a shirt, but it still counts:

No blue so thank God for that.

This is up to personal preference, but to me, the person-first language is giving "I need to be reminded that someone is a person."

Puzzle pieces. Ew. Don't BS me, I can see them.

Walk down Autism Lane. (it's right below the word LOVE) Sorry, but we don't allow ableists on Autism Lane; you need to be a premium member and to be a premium member, you need to not be a dick.

The pumpkin disturbs me for some reason, and not in the Halloween way; I mean, it just straight-up disturbs me.

Final Score: 0.5 out of 10. Bury it in a shallow grave.

Just found this one:

It's easy on the eyes at least.

No tacky elementary school colors.

No puzzle pieces.

The bunny's cute, but this also seems very infantilizing.

Person first language is a no for me.

Why are all of the is lowercase, but the others are uppercase?

Final Score: 5 out of 10. Not great, but not terrible.

Here we have simple:

Elementary school colors, but credit where credit's due; it's not terrible on the eyes.

Why is blessed on there three times?

One big-ass puzzle piece.

"Autism blesses" Yes, because being bullied by my peers, being indirectly told who I am is wrong, having the worst time making friends, always feeling like I'm never truly part of a friend group, being confused when some adults got mad at me, not having anyone to play with at 4 years old is an absolute fucking blessing. /s And that's the tip of the iceberg.

"Fun", "Sweet", "Cute".....it's the infantilization for me.

Final Score: 3 out of 10. No further elaboration.

Then there's this monstrosity:

I call this color Patronizing Paraprofessional Blue, aka the tackiest shade of blue ever.

It looks like something one of those older white suburban millennial moms would wear. Like something a Karen would wear to one of those autism walks or one of those social skills teachers who talk in that slowed-down patronizing kindergarten teacher tone with that fake-ass smile, no matter how old you are. You know the one I'm talking about, right? Yeah, they'd wear this.

Puzzle piece. Light It Up Blue. Ew.

We all know what organization this supports.

Final Score: -10 out of 10. Burn it.

Let's get in a good one to counter that abomination of a shirt and end part one on a higher note:

Nice simple design with a black background.

No tacky elementary school colors.

Identity-first language.

Really counters the....what the fuck would it be called? The UwU autism parent thing? ("I am his voice, he is my heart," "See the able, not the label," etc,.) It counters that.

The light sparkle around "a bitch" is chef's kiss.

Final Score: 11 out of 10. Perfection.

[taelqn]

SUMMARY: Mihawk with a s/o that’s shy.

WARNINGS: GENDER NOT SPECIFIED + ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP

NOTES: Before my obsession with Black Clover, I was obsessed with One Piece. I miss that. 😞

A literal blessing from the heavens when it comes to your timidness.

While shyness may not typically win favor from others or even from yourself, Mihawk finds a unique comfort in your timid disposition. Your quiet presence, the subtle glow in your eyes when conversation shifts to a topic you're passionate about, and your hesitant yet endearing gestures—all these traits capture Mihawk's attention and affection. To him, your shyness isn't a flaw to be overcome but rather a part of your charm that he deeply appreciates.

He understands that you may feel overwhelmed in social situations, so he takes the lead when necessary, subtly guiding you through interactions with others. His subtle guidance is so skillfully executed that it goes unnoticed by everyone, maybe even you. With Mihawk by your side, the once daunting prospect of socializing transforms into a less stressful experience, maybe even fostering a sense of ease in your interactions with others.

Mihawk's mere presence serves as a soothing balm for your soul. He's a man of few words, speaking only when the situation demands it. Understanding your shy nature, he respects your need for silence and doesn't overwhelm you with unnecessary chatter. However, if you express a desire for more conversation, signaling your comfort in his company, he graciously obliges, opening the door to deeper interactions. But for the most part, quietude often accompanies your time together. It’s like there exists a profound connection, forged not through words but through the shared comfort of each other's presence.

While Mihawk tends to be slightly more protective of you due to your timid nature, he maintains a deep respect for your boundaries. He never pressures you into uncomfortable situations and intuitively gives you space when you need it. In fact, you probably don't even need to voice your discomfort. Mihawk's keen observational skills allow him to sense your unease almost instinctively. It may sound like an exaggeration, but his attentiveness is truly that acute!

Honestly, the only downside I can think of is that Mihawk is literally a wanted pirate, the strongest swordsman in the world, with a hefty bounty on his head. Despite this, he does his absolute best to keep you out of such perilous affairs. The last thing he wants is to endanger you by attracting the attention of marines or other pirates because of your association with him. In short, he strives to shield you from the dangers of his pirate life. Trust me, he does this out of love, knowing that his chaotic affairs isn’t something you could easily handle, especially since you’re shy and all.

If you're having one of those moments where making eye contact feels overwhelming, Mihawk has a simple yet thoughtful solution. He'll lend you his hat and angle it just right, ensuring that you either avoid making eye contact altogether or that no one else can see your eyes. Truly, I tell you, Mihawk is a lifesaver. 🙂‍↕️

Speaking of eye contact, you and Mihawk have developed a unique way of communicating silently when others are around. If someone says something weird or surprising, you exchange glances that speak volumes. It's as if your eyes are saying, "Are you hearing this too?" to each other. This silent exchange often goes unnoticed by others, which ends up becoming like a secret language between you and Mihawk.

This was so short I’m sorry 😔 I fear I have no more brain juice.

Overall, Mihawk proves to be an ideal partner for someone who is shy. He intuitively understands your needs, taking note of your discomforts and comforts without the need for verbal communication. His attentive nature ensures that he anticipates your needs before you even have to voice them!

[piratefishmama]

Pt1

It continues, also with Robin. She leaves Steve on that floor, pathetically cycling through this random metalheads video game music repertoire, sending a silent apology for her fallen friend to the lady in the apartment below them, sure she got to hear Steve practicing his songs every now and then which was a blessing, but she also now had to deal with his pathetic puppy crush as well.

Sorry two (definitely not house-trained) poodle owning lady, Robin sent her condolences for her hearing. But only a little condolence, one of those dogs had left a steamer in the elevator and it was a tall-ass apartment block. Karma really, sweet sweet karma.

It continued because Robin had a mild gift for hunting people down on the internet, it was a skill she’d developed and honed purely to hunt down the assholes who occasionally popped up on Steve’s insta with threatening messages and dumb as shit behaviours that a best friend refused to abide by. Steve had never allowed her to do anything with the knowledge, but one day, one day, the dogs of war would be released, and she would rain fury down upon them for making him make the sad puppy eyes.

He was just a dude, sure he grew up with wealthy parents, sure he had connections since birth to help him get to where he wanted to be, but… that didn’t make him any less of a soft-ass with a genuine love of sports, and sweaters, and listening to audio books in reading nooks with mugs of coffee like some kind of pinterest mood board model.

That didn’t make him any less of an actual mother hen to several child actors and young musicians ensuring they got fair treatment, ensuring they were never taken advantage of by the industry or the people around them.

It continued because within an hour of sleuthing, Robin poked her head back around from Steve’s guest room (read: Robin’s second home), and proudly announced “Found him!” As loud as she could to get over the cover of the final boss battle from Banjo and Kazooie that Steve absolutely did not recognise but was clearly vibing to.

“Found who?”

“Your mystery hater! He’s a—”

“Robin!! You can’t dox people!!”

“I’m not doxing him, I’m telling you exactly where he is so you can go confront him.”

“That is exactly what doxing is. How did you even find him?!”

“Dumbass posted a pic of a newspaper article that his friend wrote, which, uhm, that’s pretty cool I guess, but it had her name on it! All I had to do was search LinkedIn for her and boom, I gottem.”

“…Okay so he’s basically asking to be found is what you’re saying right now.”

“EXACTLY, can we go? Can we? I wanna see him squirm like a little bitch baby when you turn up to confront him.”

“All you’ll see is my pathetic attempts to flirt with him because I don’t know how I’d be anything but pathetic around him I mean have you seen his hands? Do you remember the Hemsworth incident? Do you remember the Hemsworth incident, Robin?” The incident in question involving a low doorway and a concussion that left him delirious in the fantastic arms of the God of Thunder.

“Do I remember you acting like a drunk school girl with her first crush around a guy with biceps bigger than your head? Yes. Yes I do. It was hilarious and you gained a handsome Aussie as a life-long friend out of that pathetic display—"

“I was concussed.”

“Drunk school girl. That doesn’t mean you can’t manage to charm a little bitch from Indiana, we’re from Indiana, we have common ground, you can bond with him!”

“Oh, because being born within the same state makes for such a conversation starter… should we really go?” Would that be stupid? Would that be crossing a line? Would that be absolutely batshit insane?

“For true love—" and champagne in First-Class "I think we should.”

“…Fine.”

Part 3

[dearobinchwan]

𝐙𝐨𝐫𝐨 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭 (𝐒,𝐆,𝐓)

→ contents : afab.reader, fluff alphabet, sfw headcanons, slightly modern au

→ notes : life has been really difficult lately, but hopefully, I will release more content and try to finish some requests. You can also send me a request using this alphabet template (I only accept up to 3 letters and 3 characters) :)

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Zoro's protectiveness is undeniable. If someone gives you grief or tries to get under your skin, he'll be there in a heartbeat, a silent guardian ready to intervene. Zoro trusts your strength and knows you're a badass who can handle yourself. In fact, he admires your independence and wouldn't dream of smothering it.

Zoro's protective instincts kick in depending on the situation. When you're facing an opponent, he'll keep you in his peripheral vision, confident in your skills but ready to jump in if needed, the last thing he wants is to interrupt your own fight. Now, if someone's disrespecting you with unwelcome advances, that's a different story. One of Zoro's trademark icy glares is guaranteed to send a shiver down their spine and make them reconsider their behavior.

He views protecting you as his primary duty, especially considering the powerful pirates you often encounter. Deep down, the idea of you needing to protect him probably stings a little – the great Roronoa Zoro needing help ? But that doesn't mean he doesn't appreciate your fierceness. He can't help but crack a tiny smirk when you shut down other women flirting with him, and the way your eyes light up when you offer backup during a fight secretly thrills him. He may be your protector, but your strength and loyalty make him incredibly proud.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

“Gentle” wouldn't be the first word that pops into mind when describing Zoro. He might come across as gruff and straightforward, but beneath that exterior lies a surprising tenderness. It'll take a while, maybe even a looot of time, for him to fully express his warmer side (he is definitely a tsundere). But trust me, when those moments do arrive, they'll be all the more meaningful because of the effort he puts into showing his true feelings.

Zoro, bless his heart, has a fierce competitive streak, especially when it comes to Sanji. Sanji loves to boast about his romantic chivalry, and Zoro, well, Zoro wants to prove he can be just as thoughtful. The problem ? Romance isn't exactly his forte. Take, for example, the time he overheard Robin mentioning a new restaurant with your favorite dish on the menu. Determined to create a surprise date night, Zoro did some research and made a reservation…months in advance.

Here's how it played out :

“Zoro,” you say, peering out the window, “haven't we seen this street before? Maybe we're going the wrong way?”

Zoro puffs out his chest, trying to project an air of confident mystery. “Lost ? Absolutely not. I made reservations here, remember ? No way we're ending up at that greasy spoon near your place.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “Wait, you're taking me out? But—”

Zoro groans, realizing he's blown his surprise. He mutters a curse under his breath and slams his fist on the steering wheel. “Just trust me, it'll be…great.”

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Zoro might not be the king of grand gestures, but he makes up for it in practicality. Let's face it, remembering important dates like birthdays and anniversaries can be a struggle for him. That's why his phone likely explodes with reminders long before the actual day. While elaborate romantic evenings might not be his forte, he shows his love in the everyday. He takes on extra chores to ensure you have free time for yourself and your friends, or surprises you with a relaxing spa day. His way of saying “I love you” might be a little unconventional, but it's his genuine effort to make your life easier and show he cares.

dividers by @/cafekitsune

[sashi-ya]

𝑨 𝑫𝑨𝑻𝑬 𝑶𝑭 𝑷𝑰𝑵𝑲 𝑩𝑶𝑾 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑺𝑾𝑨𝑵𝑺 DADDY! AIZEN X F! READER ☆ PUBLIC, SIZE KINK, CREAM PIE.

🦢 tagging: @stygianoir @cyberdazetragedy 🎀 tw: reader is an adult, ffs. public sex. size kink. daddy! kink. cream pie. 💟 wc: 1.1k

“(Name)-san… wear the skirt I bought you the other day, please” “Yes, Aizen-sama”

Sosuke happened to have a free day once in a while, and even if you didn’t ask for it, he offered you a walk in the park that afternoon. You acceded immediately, having outside time with your dom had been one of your most awaited things this month.

Of course, as always, dates had rules. And rules should be followed, specially if those are given by Aizen-sama himself. Wearing “appropriate” clothing during winter time was a must, but the little skirt he bought you could only lend you to freeze your thighs and legs. But who were you to say no to his “special” request?

The pleated skirt, that could barely reach a few centimetres of your thighs, looked precious on you. Sosuke has, to you, wonderful styling skills…

“Tie your hair with this, do you like it?” he said, looking at you up to down and then giving you a little box in your hands.

You quickly answered yes, even if the contents of such box were still unknown to you. Soon, you discovered a beautiful soft pink bow inside that complimented the whole outfit amazingly well.

“Thank you, Aizen-sama! This is beautiful! Can you please put it on my hair for me?” you asked, trying to muffle the excitement.

He smirked, and with a soft “hm” he indicated to turn around. Aizen’s skilful hands, that had been inside and all of you so many times, took no time to fix the bow into your hair.

And soon, both left the house where you live under all of his rules. The park wasn’t very far and a beautiful scenery ahead waited for you. The sky had no clouds, and all around seemed blessed by a beautiful sunny winter day… you know, those days that are cold, but you can still feel the sun kissing your skin with that warm relief.

Fortunately, there wasn’t many people around, as kids were at school and most people in their jobs…

“Aren’t the swans pretty?” Sosuke said, watching you eat a candied apple he bought you just a few minutes ago.

“They are, Aizen-sama. The sun reflects in their white feathers so beautifully” you answered getting your lips stained in sugary crunchy coating.

He scoffed sweetly, cleaning the commissure of your lips. He took that same finger to his own lips, tasting the rests of caramel on them.

The image makes your legs a little weak, and your panties probably wet.

Speechless, you offered him a bite of your apple, watching with absolute devotion the way he accepted it.

“Why don’t we sit on that bench to eat and watch the swans?” he commands, pointing at a secluded seat surrounded by trees and right next to the pond.

You nodded, looking at the bite he just took of your fruit and followed him. And, as you sat next to him, the cold breeze coming from the pond cripped under your skirt and into your bones. It caused you to shiver a little, enough for Sosuke to notice…

“Are you cold?” he asked, placing his warm big hand on your right thigh. “A little…” you confessed, embarrassed and guilty. After all he asked you to wear that skirt.

“Come here”

He pulled you, with absolutely no effort, to sit on his lap facing the lake. His arms, big enough to surround you, did by your waist. Your legs fall hanging in between his and your back softly landed on his chest.

Aizen placed his chin on the crook of your neck after moving your hair to the side. His strong presence, the hot breath reaching your skin and his lips so painfully closer to your neck… it’s a park, Aizen-sama… what do you want from me?

“Can you give me a little bit more of your apple, (Name)-san?” he asked, with that tone that’s both sublime and secretly mischievous.

“S-sure, Aizen-sama” you quickly answered back, with trembling voice and the sensation of something growing harder underneath you.

You swallowed looking at him give yet another bite so close to you. You swallowed again when he got even more comfortable with you over his lap, with his erection pressing against your femineity so hard and imposing…

“Ai-Aizen-sama?” you murmured, by now the bouncing motion of his legs were making his hardness get more and more swallowed by your labia, even on top of clothing layers.

“Why don’t you call me daddy from now on, my sweet one? I am sorry you are cold, but you look just like a precious doll to me this way… I promise to buy you some hot cocoa after” he whispered, criminally sexy and with a power that left you breathless and lightheaded.

Sosuke’s hands pressed your lower belly in and down, very strongly against his crotch. A pressure that caused a soft whimper to come out of your lips, and your legs wanting to close.

“Da-daddy? I… you-?” you didn’t know how to ask… he wanted for you to hump? Or he wanted something else? There, in public?

He could only scoff, putting you back on the ground and quickly freeing his sex in a very discrete way. As soon as he was ready, Aizen snatched you back to sit on top of his sex.

“Shh… doll, you be quiet. Daddy wants to fuck you and get you warm from the inside out” he whispered, already moving your panties to the side with great expertise for your core to feel the hot pulsating shaft of his against it.

You widen your eyes… he definitely wanted this And you are absolutely nobody to say no to daddy’s orders, aren’t you?

Fast enough you humped a few times until his sex slid inside of your spasming walls. You engulfed him, as always so tightly, so excitedly.

The cold had abandoned your body, and the heat coming from your lower belly reached your cheekbones turning them on fire.

“You need to be discreet when jumping on daddy’s dick, ok? We don’t want the rest to notice… right? Or do you want them to see you be a little slut, mh?”

“I am your little slut, daddy Aizen… it’s ok if the see” you purred, with your hands placed on his thighs to balance yourself.

Your hips went back and forth, and sometimes you even bounced on top of him as he made you jump with his legs. The cold filtering from underneath your skirt could only play with the warmth of his and your juices, giving you both an extra pleasing kick. However, nothing compared to both the shame of being fucked so publicly,  and still how lucky you were of being fucked by no other than him… Aizen Sosuke.

Your hasty breathing became even more agitated as you were about to reach climax that Sosuke had to cover your mouth knowing very well the end of your trembling body on top of his.

“Come for daddy, (Name)-san…” he whispered, with his hand on your lips and his fingernails buried on your cheeks.

You nodded with the little will you were left with and let him finish the work with thrusts as he stood up just a little with you trapped by his arm around your waist.

One, two, three more. Tears on the corner of your eyes, trembling lips and shivering limbs, feeling soon very, very stuffed… with hot release, fully inside your womb, flooding every corner, deep, deeper.

“Keep it all inside, my sweet doll… this will keep you very, very warm until we get home”

“Yes, Daddy Aizen. Thank you ~”

[wannaeatramyeon]

The Way of the Househusband: Lookism and HTF hc

You, the working spouse. Them, trying to be the best malewife.

(Making up for my Eli crap).

Throws money at the problem

Look. They did not work their lil bussy off to build up an empire then to spend it all day looking after the household. You will be employing help around the house, that is non-negotiable.

Expect a half burnt, hand made lunch most days though. It's the thought that counts, you tell yourself as you swallow down a lump of charcoal.

+ Eugene

+ Goo Kim

This idiot. Tries his best until he gets bored. And he gets bored very easily.

Half mopped kitchen, half made bed. Everything he does is done well until he just. Nah. Cannot be bothered anymore.

Good job you have a routine cleaning service and whatever other help you need as he takes instead the title of trophy husband.

Greets you coming home like an overexcited puppy. Lord bless him with some other social groups and hobbies so he doesn't rely completely on you for all his interaction needs.

+ Samuel Seo

If our Sammy isn't in therapy already, then get him in. Starve if you have to, just get him on his journey.

There is no way this man would be happy just being a househusband with his inferiority complex, slight delusions of grandeur and ambition.

When he eventually comes to terms with it, will always have little side projects going on to keep his inferiority/superiority at bay.

Likely one of those bastards that power trips from heading up some sort of Househusband/housewife social group, PTA, or on the board of a charity (he's in it for the power, not the cause) in his spare time.

Natural born homemaker

Natural may be a stretch for some of these boys.

Whether by choice or as a victim of circumstance, they have had to pick up very quickly how to be completely self sufficient. So stepping into house husband role? Easy!

+ Jace Park, Warren Chae, Jibeom Kwak, Daniel Park, Hudson Ahn, Baek Seongjun

+ Eli Jang

Oh my god. There is nothing that he loves more than being a househusband.

Never in his wildest dreams thought he would end up in this position.

Creating a loving home for you and Yenna, being the caretaker and provider. By far the best and most favourite role he has undertaken.

Joins in on the gossip at the school gates, with the other parents fawning over him. Melting hearts when Yenna toddles out and gives her dad a smooch.

Makes the absolute bento lunch bar none. Wakes up at the crack of dawn, practically leaping out of bed to make something delicious, healthy and cute for you and Yenna.

+ Johan Seong

Clueless vibes but that is absolutely wrong.

With his mother and leaving home from a young age, he has absolutely had to be self-sufficient.

In addition to taking care of two dogs too, this guy knows how to run a household and how to run it with 100% efficiency.

Knows the best time to visit the market for the freshest meat and veg to cook dinner. Also will visit 10+ stores to make sure he gets the best deal for his money. It's a matter of pride.

+ Ji Yeonwoo

Never had to really lift a finger around the home, instead dedicating all his time to studying. Vibes that his father also thinks housework is woman's work.

But not this guy! Whatever you need, he will make sure he fulfils it to the best of his abilities.

Study scheduling skills carry over to running the household. Runs an extremely tight ship, and meticulously plans everything. You want a doctor appointment? Dentist? Plumber. He is ON it.

In between sessions of Kyokushin Karate training of course.

+ Han Wangguk

Um hello? Does this even need explaining? It just fits.

Forced into being the carer and head of the household from a young age after his home life completely went to shit. Looked after Gyeoul to the best of his ability until he couldn't. Tried to be the best big bro/father figure since his stint in juvie.

Absolutely perfect as a househusband. Nothing to fault.

Will spoil you too. Small gifts he has come across that reminds him of you - a snack you like from the store, booking movie tickets for a lil date night together, a book he thinks you'd be interested in.

Perfection.

Clueless idiot tries their best

It's a 50/50 chance whether you will have a home and a husband to return to at the end of a day. It's also a 50/50 chance whether your home made lunch will give you food poisoning.

Sure, it's gotten better the longer they've been at it, but you're still wary. Especially since they have also gotten better at hiding any messes they cause too.

You can never stay mad though, especially when they get so cute when they're frustrated at having failed you as a househusband. Which is complete nonsense, by the way.

+ Vin Jin, Jihan Kwak, Jay Hong

+ Vasco Tabasco

How can this category exist without our resident cinnamon roll?

Fortunately for him, Jace has added himself onto Vasco's speed dial. Unfortunately for Jace, he gets 20+ calls and frantic messages a day asking how to get things done.

Nonsense includes asking how to revert the clothes after accidentally dying them pink. Can he put out a frying pan oil fire with water. How burnt can something be before someone will likely get food poisoning.

It gets better over time. Lucky for you and lucky for Jace.

COMPLETE househusband Tatsu vibes. Everyone is terrified of Vasco, intimidated by his thuggish looks and tattoos. (Until they find out he is the biggest sweetheart and himbo ever.)

+ Ryuhei Kuroda

Relishes being a househusband! Like a silly little roleplay and doesn't get tired of it. After, all it took him so long to find someone that keeps the interest of Ryuhei and lil Ryuhei.

A shameless flirt with the ajummas and all the other housewives. Getting the best gossip, the best offers and deals, best tips.

Unfortunately, his attention span is short. Listens with good intentions, then starts daydreaming about when you get home and how he will ravish you.

In the end, he falls short in some aspects of being a househusband, but will make it up to you in the bedroom.

Bulldozes their way forward until they are Househusband Extraordinaire

You cannot fault them for their effort.

Initially a struggle at first for them to come to terms with being a househusband. Look at this list for crying out loud. Consisting of killers and fighters and crime bosses.

But if they commit, they're going to give it all. Their tenacity means they will absolutely get things done. Every time they fail, they will keep trying over and over again. Whether that's to make you happy or for their own pride, they will keep going until it is perfected.

+ Xiaolong, Zack Lee, Xiaolong, Sinu Han, Seong Taehoon, Kim Munseong

+ Gun Park

There is nothing Gun Park cannot do if he sets his mind to it. That includes whatever the hell is his life right now.

Which he doesn't mind, per se. It's just... unexpected.

And he never thought there would ever be anything in his life that matches the thrill of fighting to the death.

But getting the pick of fresh fruit and veg when he's first at the farmer's market? Beating some old ajumma (almost literally) to grab the best head of lettuce? Unveiling your dinner like he used to with his masterpiece?

Ok. It's not bad. He'll still sneak off to beat up minors when he has spare time though.

+ DG/James Lee

Drops the K-pop persona pretty damn quick, reverting back to James Lee.

Because can you imagine how little he would be able to get done if people saw DG around trying to run errands?

But honestly. Look at him. This man, like Gun, does not have a domestic bone in his body.

He's not a genius for nothing though.

Dishwasher? Washing machine? Tumble dryer? How to iron in the most efficient way? He will work it out, don't worry.

+ Jake Kim

Anything, anything to make you happy.

As the Big Deal no.1, worrying about the street running smoothly is only his problem in so far as the protecting, the fighting, the money.

Clothes used to just turn up washed and ironed. Would live on a diet of ramen or just eating at one of the restaurants.

Jake is not initially cut out for being a househusband... But he learns quickly.

Eagerly gets to any household chores and errands with gusto. Sometimes even recruiting the Big Deal boys to help out when things get a little too hectic and out of hand.

[soaked4mk]

Raiden Head Cannons

SFW 💙

★ Oh, Raiden…where to start with this sweetheart? He’s compassionate and understanding. He’s never the type to jump the gun, and risk hurting your feelings.

★ His communication skills are on par. You two rarely argue and thats because of how understanding and levelheaded he is.

★ Truly, you would be a mess without this man. He’s the glue that keeps you from tearing yourself apart.

★ Did I mention that he’s hopelessly in love with you? Like the first time he ever set eyes on you, he was infatuated. he’s also considerate of your feelings. He usually takes yours into account before his own.

★ Which is a curse, and a blessing to be honest. You want to consider his feelings just as much as he does your own. Sometimes it becomes a tiny issue with how much he pushes aside his own feelings.

★ But again, the communication is great—so usually it’s talked out and carried on with new vigor to do better- no matter the situation.

★ He’s not the type of man to get overly protective or jealous. He’s seen you spar, and he knows what you’re capable of. On top of that, he trusts you with his whole heart, and finds jealousy to be petty. (But sometimes he’ll see you and Kenshi conversing. and when Kenshi casually puts his hand on your shoulder— it kind of irks him.) But he tries to keep those feelings hidden. He finds it selfish whenever he catches that small pang in his chest. He knows it’s all in good camaraderie.

★ Again though, if he sees something that is truly bothering him, his communication comes in handy. he has no issue to gently confront the issue at hand, or to discuss it with you in private.

★ Raiden loves to play with or do your hair. It doesn’t matter. He’ll learn whatever he has to about your hair type in order to perfect his practice. He feels it’s intimate and a good spend in quality time with his significant other.

★ Be prepared for constant lighthearted chiding. It’s in his stoic nature. He finds himself often guiding you or correcting you gently when something is amiss.

★ Not that you mind him mentoring you at times ;)

★ He’ll help with your form if you’re doing a warm up before training. “That’s very good Y/N…” his voice smooth, while taking his hand and placing it on your lower back and , helping you touch your toes more efficiently.

★ Yeah, there are definitely no complaints here.

★ Raiden is a pretty private person. He prefers affection behind closed doors. Now this doesn’t mean he’s not going to hold your hand/waist in public. He doesn’t mind a small peck on the cheek—though you can catch him off guard and peck his lips, causing his cheeks to tint pink.

★ He just finds personal affection sacred, and likes it better when it’s not boasted to the world, though he is very proud to have you by his side, don’t mix it up for embarrassment—he just wants to keep his composure.

★ Please, this man loves to praise you. Give you words or nods of affirmation, soft glances and smiles your way is enough to know how much he loves you when in public, or in front of the other defenders.

★ Being a thunder god and all, working with Liu Kang. You have to be stoic. At least in his eyes. And you totally understand and respect that.

★ Raiden loves being with you. He absolutely admires you. He’s quite the lover boy when you aren’t in view of others. (He’s a lover boy regardless but he’s clingy when it’s just you two). If you’re doing dishes or cooking, he’ll walk up behind you and snake his arms around your waist, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck.

★ He’ll ask “Did you need any help, love?” Or “let me get that, you just worry about this.” He’s fantastic in a household. He’s great at keeping up on chores with you, maybe too great. He’s often finished everything that needs to be done in the house before you get home or wake up.

★ No complaints. you have to love a man who knows how to be domestic. He even makes small competition to see who can finish all their chores first. Sometimes you’ll raise the stakes and the loser gets to cook dinner for the night.

★ Gentle. He’s really gentle. He can be deep too. And thats what piqued your interest in the first place. He prefers to talk things out before he has to resort to violence. But he wouldn’t hesitate to defend you from harm. He’s logical, and usually quick thinking, so most of the time his words usually resolve conflicts.(can’t stress his amazing communication LMAO)

★ But the conversations you two have? amazing. Time consuming in the best way possible. You trade aspirations and goals with one another, hoping to help each other achieve said aspirations and goals. And you talk about your future—it often ends in the topic of marriage and the excitement of planning a proper wedding for the two of you.

★ He’s so supportive. Like if there was a contest for most supportive boyfriend, he wouldn’t show up—he’d be by your side, helping you with whatever, instead of on the pedestal for first place.

★ He can’t stand seeing you cry. It makes his heart swell, then deflate completely. His heart aches when he sees you in distress. He tries his best to be there for you in times of need, and for the most part—he is. Truly.

★ But there have been the couple occasions where he was on a mission for Liu Kang while you’ve been left to fend for yourself or for your own feelings. Which is totally okay—and you insist to Raiden that it is. But it doesn’t change the fact that he feels horrible for not being there when you could have really used his company.

★ He’s a very empathic person. So when he finds out he wasn’t there for you when he most certainly would have preferred—it stings. He feels kinda guilty about it. And though you insist that he has his own life and priorities to Earth Realm, and that it’s totally valid to not be around 24/7, he can’t help but shake his head, waving off your words.

★ “Oh, absolutely not…I should have been there for you. I’ll make it up to you—whatever you want me to do my love…”

★ How can you deny such a genuine offer?

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷

NSFW 💦

★ Your pleasure definitely comes before his. Every time. He’s attentive when it comes to your needs.

★ Raiden is a more slow, sensual lover. He likes to take his time on you.

★ So expect a lot of foreplay from him.

★ Really feel like he whimpers. Just had to add this.

★ Certainly can get down and dirty with dominating you, but he loves when you take control too.

★ For sure is a soft dom if I’m gonna be honest. He’s going to guide you and talk you through it the entire time.

★ Along with classic princess treatment, he’s showering you with praise and compliments. “You’re doing so good, pretty girl.” “Jus—just like that~” “that’s it, hon.”

★ Don’t see him spitting in your mouth, or slapping your face, that type of stuff. He would definitely find that disrespectful.

★ I mean…if you asked? He’d be a bit hesitant, but if that’s what you want, who is he to deny your pleasure you know? Plus he gets off on whatever gets you off…so he’d adapt.

★ “all you had to do was ask, y/n.” He’ll say, gripping your face with one hand, forcing you to look at him. “Just tell me what you want, and I’ll be more than willing to do it.”

★ But back to the foreplay. He loves peppering your face and neck with small kisses. Sometimes he’ll leave a few love bites, while his rough hands trail down your curves.

★ “You’re so soft~ so pretty…” his hands will gently squeeze your thighs, reminding you of how much he adores you.

★ He loves using his hands to make you feel tingly. Quite literally. I mean, if you’re lucky, and are able to convince him to…he’ll treat you to some soft core electro stimulation.

★ Though it’s rare, since he doesn’t have full control over his power yet…

★ He’ll gently pinch you’re nipples, rolling them between his fingers while adding a small shock here and there.

★ Even better when he’s playing with your pussy, and he jolts your clit suddenly. The feeling in indescribably euphoric.

★ Raiden loves teasing you, edging you on. He finds it extremely arousing when you buck and writhe under his touch.

★ He definitely takes joy in being the only one able to make you this pathetically needy for him.

★ His teasing can be in the verge of cruel sometimes, and it drives you wild. “Please—just fuck me already Rai~” you’ll pant out, with you chest heaving, and cunt aching.

★ And of course, hell tend to your needs. Especially when you’re begging him like that!

★ “I’m not fucking you, y/n…i’m making love.” He’ll correct, his pace quickening, adding a second finger—even a third. Stretching around his digits while he praises you for taking it so well.

★ you’ll whine and squirm under his touch, grinding against his hand as he fucks you onto his fingers.

★ “You’re so beautiful like this, Y/n…” his digits curl just right, hitting your sweet spot mercilessly. “Like that? Love?”

★ Your back arches as he works you to reach an extreme climax with just his hands. “That’s right gorgeous~ cum for me~”

★ Unable to hold back, why would you when he asks so nicely anyways? Gripping the sheets while your eyes squeeze shut—your legs tremble before a rush of rhapsodic pleasure washes over you, and his hand.

★ Only after you cum, will he finally give you what you’ve been aching for. With a sly smirk playing on his lips, he’ll slowly—but surely sink his cock into you.

★ “look at you, taking me so well. Good girl~”

★ Relishing in the warmth, he’s sure to make you feel every inch of him as he picks up his pace ever so slightly. “Mmff~ that’s right—mhmm.”

★ This boy loves eating pussy. Just saying, he especially adores face sitting.

★ Please suffocate him. He doesn’t even notice your weight. In fact—he’ll pull you further onto his face, nuzzling his nose into your clit with a hum.

★ He gets pussy drunk so easily! It’s actually endearing with how much he praises your cunt.

★ “What a pretty pussy~” “you’re an absolute treasure.” “More?” He doesn’t stop with the praise—or the guidance. He’s very vocal with you during intimate encounters, as you can see.

★ Don’t worry about aftercare. He’s got that in the bag, baby. Whatever your needs are, he’ll grant them.

★ Hot tea and snacks? A movie night? Maybe you’re in need of a full body massage, or perhaps you’re craving a nice warm bubble bath? Whatever it is, he’ll do it for you.

★ You’re his pride and joy after all, he’s gotta make sure you’re as pristine as you were before the coital moment.

[uchihaxitachi]

itachi hcs with a pregnant s/o:

itachi was the happiest man on earth when he got to know that you're pregnant. he truly did love you a lot. despite the uchihas being ill-famous for promoting clan marriages and arranged marriages; itachi did none of those things. he married someone not from his clan. all the backlash he received was brutally stomped by the uchiha when he claimed the title of the hokage. people did talk behind his back about it, but it didn't bother him. he had two goals -- keep his family safe, keep konoha safe.

it was one of the few times you saw itachi's eyes glossed, when you braced yourself for a reaction from him after sharing the news. "that- you blessed me today, my angel." he happily declares, pulling you close and kissing you softly, there weren't any emotions he could muster up except unadulterated, unfiltered and sort of overwhelming love for you.

the whole pregnancy was kept a secret, only the closest of people knew. mikoto, fugaku, sasuke, your family, shisui maybe. that's all. itachi was presumed as someone who stretched his working hours but ever since you had been pregnant, he always left work on time. not a minute late. anything else can wait, absolutely urgent things can be handled accordingly. nothing is as urgent as his wife and unborn child.

itachi is a master chef, he makes sure he masters things to the point of perfection. no matter what he tried. culinary skills were one of them. creating diet-plans and extensively following them. you had a filled pantry for all your mood swings. you had the best breakfast and dinner. lunch you could manage for yourself and your man. though itachi never obligated you to.

itachi has always given you flowers every week, this only changed to the quantity of them doubled. he needs to gift the child the flowers too. you don't know this but one of the flowers are always placed on itachi's hokage desk so he knows when it's time to change them. he also tends to them when he's at home with you. easy to observe.

when you start gaining weight and feeling insecure about it, itachi is more than happy to give you a ted-talk, and if needed… show you how perfect you are by loving you. of course he has read he needs to be slow and gentler while making love. your unhinged thirst and his unhinged lust that comes out at times needs to, and has to wait for now.

itachi brings you monthly gifts to commemorate your pregnancy, every month a little trinket of appreciation for his wife. some days it can be extremely materialistic, some days it's a beautifully handwritten letter from itachi that he wrote while you were asleep.

itachi loves to talk to the baby, leaning against the headboard while you lean against his chest, he rubs your belly and muses, talking to them about how this world is something he promises would be a safe space. how they don't have to be a ninja if they don't want to. how he will try to balance his work duties and the duties of being the 'best' otou san!

when you feel nausea and the joint pain, itachi is there for relief. always bringing foods that reduce the restlessness. since you can't be too dependent on the medications as a pregnant lady.

itachi loves taking bubble baths with you, soothingly massage your body and just let you relax. he's figured out which scented candle you like during pregnancy mostly by the ick in your facial expressions alone. DAMN HE'S THE BEST MAN EVER I WOULD CRY

[fantastic-nonsense]

im soso curious, i need to know... why is tim a child of apollo? bless u for not going with fanon<3

[referencing how I decided who the Batfam's godly parents were in my PJO AU WIP]

People like to sort him into Athena because DC has spent the last few years emphasizing how smart he is and how he's better at the more “cerebral” and detective aspects of the job. But Tim’s most prominent pre-reboot traits are not actually his detective or tech skills: they’re his reckless, impulsive bravery, his ability to analyze and think very quickly on his feet in dangerous situations, and his "power of friendship" idealism.

He's a people person; it's one of his greatest strengths. Tim is like...physically incapable of going somewhere and not making at least one friend while he's there. Hell, when he ran off to travel the world on his "fuck you, I'll find Bruce on my own" trip he still managed to pick up his own little crew of assassin friends along the way. Making connections and talking to people and relying on others for help is how he successfully navigates being a hero, as he himself notes on multiple occasions:

"Did you think I was going to run all around the city, desperately trying to save everyone all by myself? I'm not Batman. I have friends." -Red Robin #12

Tim loves his family and friends, and losing so many people he's close to within such a small timespan sends him off the deep end in multiple ways (trying to clone Kon, fighting Dick to get the Lazarus water, isolating himself from everyone, fighting with Dick and running off to find proof that Bruce was alive on his own, etc).

At his core, Tim is an idealist who becomes a hero for no other reason than a) a broken man needs help and a broken family needs mending and b) if Dick won't go back to being Robin he might as well do it, because someone has to be Robin. He sees what will happen if Bruce stays on the path he's on and says "no. I'm not going to let that happen." He's a hero because someone has to help, and he's able and available to do so. He doesn't work on cold hard logic and facts. He works off of gut instinct and then uses his big brain to go find facts and logical conclusions that support those instincts.

Tim was never going to be an Athena child.

So I started thinking. At first, I wanted him to be a Hermes child; it seemed right to frame his parentage around being the child of the messenger of the gods given how he became Robin. But that's not really him, either. Apollo, within the scope of both classical mythology and the PJO-verse's depiction of him and his children, fits him better.

While modern culture tends to zero in a lot on Apollo's status as the god of music, poetry, and the arts (for good reason), Apollo in classical Greek mythology was first and foremost known as the god who (for lack of a better term) helps his people. He's the god of the sun, of light, of medicine and healing, of prophecy, of truth.

Tim comes into Bruce's life at a time when Bruce is at his absolute lowest point. Jason is dead. He's estranged from Dick. He's failing in his mission to save Gotham. He's highkey passively suicidal. And Tim takes it upon himself to fix that. And he does it by being a solid, bright, stable presence in Bruce's life and an extremely blunt, truthful messenger of the future he sees: Batman needs a Robin, and if Bruce doesn't have one he's going to die.

And I didn't abandon his intelligence in the calculations: Apollo is also the god of rational thinking, order, and knowledge, contrasting and working in harmony with Dionysus (the god of irrationality, chaos, and passion). He was also known to be the god whose job it was to interpret the will of Zeus to humankind, which I thought was appropriate for a boy who spends quite a lot of his time being the living communication translator between Bruce and everyone around him.

So. Apollo child.

............also I thought it was funny to make the god of youth the father of the boy DC refuses to allow to age.

[ilguna]

☼ cruel summer pt2 (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; Finnick tricked you into playing the damsel role, something the Capitol will be referencing for the rest of your life. still, you're not sure if you can forgive him for being so cruel to you in the first place.

warnings; swearing, ehh gore, someone loses an eyeball, weapon use, death.

wc; 2.2k

part one

--

If you make it out of this arena alive, you might consider taking back all the nasty things you called Finnick that night on the balcony. In the heat of the moment, you confessed the feelings that you’ve had for him for a while, and in return, he told you that this had been his plan all along—to push you to your breaking point.

Every ounce of composure you had left was gone at that moment. All the emotions that you’d bottled for the last year shattered. You were upset, because this vulnerable moment had yet again, been turned into a joke for Finnick’s amusement. 

At least, that’s what you thought.

When you finally stopped screaming at him, which was right around the time the escort and Mags had come to check to make sure that everything was okay, he tried to explain his reasoning. You didn’t want to hear what he had to say, so you left to go to your room, which brought the conversation inside.

“You need to listen to me, (Y/n).” Finnick had told you, grabbing your arm to slow you down. “I know you’re mad—”

“Mad?” You repeated, your ladylike appearance was fading, not being able to hold it for the escort. Who was standing in the living room beside the stylists and Mags, watching the argument unfold. “Mad doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface, Finnick! This is one big joke to you! I’m going to die, and it’s going to be your fault!”

You made a beeline for your room, trying to lock the door behind you, but they won’t shut if there’s something in the way. It was Finnick, and he had himself firmly planted there, refusing to move.

“You know I would never get you killed.” He tried to tell you.

You scoffed, “Do I, Finnick? I wouldn’t have put it past you.”

“You can’t place all the blame on me, you’re supposed to be the smart one. I was waiting for you to figure out I was messing with you the entire time but you trusted my judgement. I hope you won’t be this naive in the Games.”

“Get out of my room.” 

“I wanted you to look like a ditz, to give you a better chance at winning.”

“You’ve got a really backwards way of thinking.”

“It’s worked for me in the past, so I figured that it’d help you, too.” His patience was unwavering. “I wanted the Capitol and the tributes to overlook you, and they are. It’s a blessing. You’re going to be invisible in the arena—it worked out for me, so it’ll work for you.”

You stared at him, still angry, gripping the white trim of the doorway. “And you didn’t think to let me in on this?”

“You would’ve slipped. It’s hard to genuinely act clueless.” He shakes his head. “I had to do it, (Y/n), or else the Capitol would’ve had their eye on you the whole time. This was the only way.”

“I have no skills.” You seethed through your teeth.

“That’s not true. You know how to use a spear and hunt for food. You just need to put that together, and you’ll be able to keep yourself alive. You don’t even have to kill unless you absolutely have to.” He raised his eyebrows. “Like I said, you’re smart, (Y/n). You’ve got this.”

“Is this why you stopped being friends with me? Back home?” 

Finnick shook his head. “I stopped being around you after my Games because I felt like we couldn’t connect anymore. I was somewhere else and you didn’t understand.”

“So you told all my secrets? You let them start rumors about me?”

He looked at the ground, quiet. “I never should have told them those things.”

“It’s too late to feel sorry for yourself.” You told him. “Or fix any of this. You better hope that you’re right about this strategy, or my blood will be on your hands.”

Finnick nodded, backing out of the door, satisfied that he’d gotten the chance to properly speak to you. “Goodnight.”

You punched the button on the wall. 

If Finnick’s plan doesn’t work out, it won’t matter, because you’ll be dead anyway. Still, you’ll spend every last breath cursing his name and actions, for getting you in this position.

As much as you hate to say it, you have to admit that his plan has worked without a single hiccup. He was right, down to the very last word. You don’t think that you crossed any of the other tributes’ minds, much less the very much, now-dead Careers.

It was easy, too easy to survive this far. There were several times you were sure that you’d get caught sneaking in and out of the Cornucopia for supplies. Or when you’d accidentally pass by an active camp, where you were merely just a few feet away from the deadliest tributes in the arena.

You never got caught though, you flew under the radar, and it’s brought you here.

The male tribute from District Eight stands a few feet away from you, knife in his hand. You can’t seem to remember his name, but you know that he’s older than you, on the cusp of being free of the Hunger Games forever. You won’t be able to place your finger on his age exactly, but if you had to guess, it’d be eighteen.

He’s panting heavily, a result of chasing you for two miles through palm trees and sand. You would’ve brought him through the river, too, if the Gamemakers hadn’t dried it up yesterday. Now all it acts as is a barren trench. He’d tried to corner you into going inside, but you knew better. If you’d fallen in, you would’ve died down there.

You didn’t survive this entire time just to be killed from doing something stupid.

“Come here, little girl.” He breathes, voice deep. He takes the first step toward you, your legs twitch, wanting to run. You don’t move. “I’ll try to make it quick.”

You tilt your head at him. 

In the past two and a half weeks you’ve been in here, you don’t think you’ve said a single word. A point you’ve been trying to make since you made a fool of yourself on stage with Caesar Flickerman. Which has been a little difficult to keep up, because you have a habit of working out your problems aloud. 

Your lips are sealed, as far as you’re concerned. And they’ll stay that way, until you’re announced as the victor. 

He’s making his way at you at a steady pace. The closer he gets, the more you’re able to see the deranged look in his eye. It makes you worry, but your focus lies with the knife that he’s white-knuckling. Your idea of getting it out of his hand somehow is becoming a bad one. 

You really have no choice. The Cornucopia is miles away. The only weapon you had is gone, thrown into the trench. What you have now is your backpack, which has close to nothing inside of it. Just the sleeping bag you stole, a half-empty bottle of water, and a coiled wire.

“Surprised you lasted this long.” He mutters, “What did you score, again? A three?”

Four. Which might have been done out of irony, because that’s where you’re from. Or pity, because the Gamemakers saw that you were making an effort to learn. With Finnick’s initial instructions to fail everything you touched, you had a hard time figuring out the right way to do things.

You weren’t allowed to succeed.

“What’s the matter?” He teases.

He’s gotten close enough to lunge at you, swiping with the knife. He cuts you across your upper left arm, leaving a stinging trail behind. In turn, you swing your fist at his jaw, an ache forms in your knuckles, pain blossoming under the skin.

You’ve never had to punch anyone before.

In the brief time you have, you try to seize the knife from his hand, but he’s already thought of that, lifting it up, out of your reach. As he prepares to stab downward, you wiggle out of the backpack, bringing it in front of you to act as a shield.

Sure enough, it pierces through the cloth, he draws it out. You lower the bag, backing up, shaking your head at him. You’re not going to be able to fight, and it’s not because you don’t want to, it’s because you’re not capable. You can punch and kick him all you want, but he’s going to bounce back.

You need a weapon, so you rip the backpack open, pulling out the bottle of water that's beginning to leak from being stabbed. You throw it at him, watching as he dodges it, breathing out a laugh. It wasn’t your goal to hit him, just slow him down another step.

Your hand dives back in, rooting around for the wire, which lays at the very bottom, practically untouched since you discovered it. Right as you go to pull it out, he swings at you again. You’re barely able to lift the bag in time, listening to it tear from the sharp blade.

Without thinking it through entirely, you retaliate, aiming for his legs. The wire slices into skin, he jumps away from you. One look at the damage you’ve caused, and you forget about defending yourself with the backpack. You have a ranged weapon. 

For once, you take a step forward, pursuing him. Each time he slashes, you dodge and attack. He doesn’t miss every time, sometimes catching your shirt or your skin. Either way, the advantage changes.

You hurl the backpack at him, still hanging onto a strap, watching as his focus turns to catching it before it knocks into him. With the other hand, you bring down the wire, coming into contact with his face. He lets out a hiss, right as you whip it forward again.

His sudden scream startles you, making you jump. You watch as he drops the knife in his hand, forgetting about it. His hands are trembling when he reaches to touch his face, his left eye, where blood is gushing out like a waterfall.

You don’t stare for long, jerking forward, falling into the grass to grab the knife before he realizes his mistake. His eye is squeezed shut, letting out pained sobs. You get back to your feet, arm drawing back, before you hammer the knife into his chest, right over where his heart is. 

His eye and mouth pop open at the same time, hands falling from his face to his chest, where he’s just able to secure his fingers around the knife. Then, his eyes roll back, taking his body with him.

A cannon blasts.

You shuffle forward a step, looking down at him, and then up at the sky. 

That’s it, right? That’s all you had to do? There’s no one left in the arena?

“Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victor of the Sixty-sixth Hunger Games, District Four’s very own (Y/n) (L/n)!” Claudius Templesmith’s voice booms over the clearing, answering your questions.

You laugh, backing away from the gruesome scene you caused. “How’s that for a score of four?”

—

The familiar voices down the hallway grow louder with each step you take. They placed you in the room as far away as possible, to make you work to see your people again. In any other instance, you’re sure you’d be on some degree of irritation, but you’re so relieved to be here, and alive that it doesn’t seem right to be mad.

You survived the Hunger Games, there’s nothing in Panem that can touch you now. 

Your eyes are searching for them before you’ve even rounded the corner. Your stylist, your escort and Finnick are standing together, talking quietly. 

“Finnick.” His name leaves your mouth in a gasp, causing him to turn. Your feet move without permission, body gravitating to him. Finnick gives you a look—the look he used to give you back home when he thought you were being dramatic.

He throws his arms open at the last second, your body coming into hard contact with his, making him stumble back. He’s got you securely, though. Your arms lock around his back, squeezing him tightly. You can feel his cheek press against your ear.

“Welcome back.” He says.

You close your eyes, allowing yourself this moment, because you’ve missed being his friend. If there’s one good thing that will come of this, it’ll be getting him back. But it won’t happen before he shows you that he’s sorry.

When you pull away from the hug, his eyes flicker to yours, watching you. “This doesn’t mean you’re forgiven.”

“I know.” He sighs. “But it’s a start, isn’t it?”

You suck in your lips for a moment, nodding. “We’ll figure it out when we get home. For now, I just want to get out of here.” You tell him, before turning to the escort and the stylist, who are both smiling at you. You take in a breath, trying to reciprocate, “So, what’s next?”