#listen i have been deprived of content i can have this okay

[the-kipsabian]

[atanx]

James Somerton's "A Measured Response": A Measured Response

so I watched a reupload of the video because idk i like to torture myself. and i took a bunch of notes:

“I tried to be a voice for every member of the queer community, but that was a failed endeavour before it even started.”

what a strange way to say ‘I tried making it seem like I’m the only queer creator and stole from and actively harmed people in the queer community. knowingly. purposefully. and when I was called out in the past I tried to hide it.'

“I'm a cis, white, gay man. No matter how much I try to be a good spokesperson, I can never really, truly, understand the life experiences of other, far more put upon,  members of the queer community.”

so of course I stole and hid work from the people I can't understand, gutting it of their personal experiences and refused to redirect my audience to those people so that they can enrich themselves and hear about issues pertaining them from someone who actually does understand.

“...one of the reasons I used their own words. But I should have made it clear that that was what I was doing.”

BITCH YOU STOLE. YOU GUTTED THEIR STORIES OF MEANINGFUL PERSONAL EXPERIENCES. YOU WEREN'T USING THEIR WORDS TO BE ABLE TO TALK ABOUT THINGS YOU CAN'T ENTIRELY UNDERSTAND YOU WERE MILKING THEM FOR CONTENT AND DEPRIVING PEOPLE OF ACTUAL, SOULFUL, MEANINGFUL ARTICLES AND BOOKS AND DOCUMENTARIES AND VIDEOS THEY COULD HAVE BEEN WATCHING INSTEAD.

“Being a cis white man I thought I might win over some people who otherwise wouldn't listen.”

Yeah sure. Because racist transphobes are going to be watching your badly plagiarised gay film analysis.

“I would also like to apologise to Jessie Gender, who is one of the kindest people I ever met. Through my hot-headedness, I drew her into this anger spiral.”

‘through my hotheadedness.’. shirking responsibility onto an ‘ingrained personality trait of yours’ I see.

if you are so honestly sorry for being an asshole to Jessie why don't you fucking apologise to her directly? privately? not as a way to boost your own fucking image??

he's trying to earn good will by complimenting Jessie Gender “oh he knows to compliment an awesome person we have that in common I guess he can't be so bad after all” fuck you I recognise your strategies and it's gross to drag Jessie into this like that, she spoke out against you and you are trying to imply some sort of friendship or something between you. okay I cannot UNDERSTATE the way he tries to make it seem like they are close in some way and sort of drag her onto his side that's so fucking despicable. as far as I know Jessie Gender does not have a relationship with him of any kind?

once again bringing up death threats I see. obviously death threats are shite and anyone who threatens the dude in seriousness or harasses him will not see the light of heaven as Hbomberguy said but IN AN APOLOGY YOU DO NOT MAKE IT ABOUT YOU THAT'S MANIPULATION

also blaming the police for not clarifying a situation in a timely manner - the police are a flaming pile of garbage and I hope the institution explodes but NOT SAYING ANYTHING WAS YOUR CHOICE. THE POLICE DIDN'T MAKE YOU DO SHIT THERE

the problem isn't that you tried to “create a channel where all queer people could be safe”, the problem is that 1) you are a misogynist 2) you yourself engaged in transphobic behaviour and 3) you also actively supressed queer people's voices. The problem isn't that you supposedly wanted a space for all queer people, the problem is that you tried to MONOPOLISE queer literature analysis. fuck, queer doesn't look like a word anymore I've written it too many times now

(paraphrased) “I should have been helping with making queer people's voices discoverable” this makes it seem like he just didn't do anything and not like the reality that he was actively trying to rewrite history and bury LQBTQIA+ voices under his steaming pile of garbage

also BLAMING YOUTUBE AND THE ALGORITHM FOR ‘PUSHING HIM’ because he's cis and white, like maybe they did, I certainly wouldn't be surprised, but that is not why other creators suffered, a large part of that can be attributed to James Somerton stealing their work without any acknowledgement whatsoever apart maybe if they are lucky, a “based on” in the credits or their name flashing on screen for half a second.

“I should have done more to share the voices of other queer people” THAT IMPLIES YOU DID SOMETHING. YOU WERE ACTIVELY WORKING AGAINST THAT YOU STUPID PIECE OF SHIT-

“it was just my dweam to be a youtubew and when my videos gained twaction i felt pwessuwed to make mowe vewy quickly and that's why they wewe so shit uwu” fuck off you weren't pressured into shit you just wanted to make money and that's why you were a content mill

“early on I thought that crediting authors in the opening credits alone was enough” what about the times YOU DIDN'T EVEN DO THAT??? YOU'RE MAKING THIS SEEM LIKE THE DRAMA IS ABOUT YOU CREDITING PEOPLE WRONG WHEN ITS ABOUT YOUR SYSTEMATIC THEFT AND OPPRESSION OF THOSE YOU CLAIM TO MAKE VIDEOS FOR AND ABOUT AND THOSE YOU CLAIM TO MAKE A SAFE SPACE FOR. WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK WATCHES YOUR VIDEOS?? WE KNOW WHAT YOU DID YOU CAN'T JUST PLAY IT DOWN

not him using Hbomberguy's example of the DEEP CUTS: SOCIETY AND QUEER HORROR video and claiming he credited all people in the opening scene when Hbomberguy highlighted he DIDNT EVEN CREDIT MOST OF THEM FUCK OFF ARE YOU DELUSIONAL HOW DO YOU THINK YOU CAN GET AWAY WITH THIS

I think I'm going insane this all seems so blatantly fake. he brings up the evil queens video and how he asked Sean Griffin, retroactively, permission to include his work in the video. and he shows a ‘screenshot’ of an email Griffin allegedly wrote to thank him for putting him in the title-card and that he thinks it is ‘a very thoughtful video’. only the text of the email header, such as Griffin's name, the RE:, and the To: is a lot smaller than the ‘text’ in the email, which leads me to believe that the below text is edited in some way. And with how hard James is trying to rewrite history, it wouldn't surprise me if he literally rewrote the email or cut things out to present himself in a more positive light. obviously I can't prove that the email is fake but I'll just say that I think the likelihood is very high that it is.

the way he says this also implies that he asked for permission after he made the video but hadn't published it yet. which is also blatantly false.

again trying to waltz off responsibility on nick, saying he was much more interested in production and implying that nick did all the writing .

“nick and I had both grown up poor so when I lost my job in 2021 (approx.) we of course were desperate and turned to producing videos even quicker and plagiarising the fuck out of all of them! but we can't help it we were both poor as kids!” fuck off, you weren't poor when plagiarising every-fucking-thing, this was in “the second year of COVID”. obviously if they really did grow up poor that sucks, and that's why we should eat the rich and redistribute their money. not plagiarise people who partly are poor or not financially cushy and manipulate thousands of people into believing you are the only queer creator.

also milking his mom's cancer. if you were really that worried about your financial situation, one would think that you would get an actual job for security and not put everything into your youtube career that is unstable, especially considering you've already done a lot of plagiarism and have no intention of stopping. “oh I plagiarised because my mom had cancer QAQ” that is so digusting to use a person's medical condition like that.

“i have memory issues because of a head injury i suffered as a child and that's why I plagiarise badly. see, I copy pasted the text with the intention to rephrase it later but forgot.” that would still be fucking plagiarism if he'd done that, also, if he's so aware of his memory issues and how they lead to him plagiarising, why didn't he try to work around that? leave himself notes? or tell nick to remind him to integrate actual proper credit and citations before uploading a video? mark the plagiarised stuff in the document with like highlighter or so when you're pasting it in?? oh but he didn't do all of that because he has ADHD. now, ADHD can be debilitating, but he says it's recently diagnosed so it must not have caused a lot of problems for him so far, so it's probably not severe and even if it is, it doesn't excuse him not crediting people properly. stop fucking hiding behind things ‘you can’t change' because if you truly can't you probably shouldn't be doing this in the first place.

“my mom really wanted me to make a movie with her life insurance but that wasn't paid out so I decided to crowdfund it. i planned to underpay the actors so hard it was under union wages. we got more money than we were expecting and upgraded to wanting to film a feature (final girl) but i didn't want to start working on it until the campaign was over for some reason that totally isn't me just wanting to exploit people for money!”

I'm not gonna go into the Telos stuff but he tries to explain it by claiming it was very unorganised and that's why they constantly ran into issues and that's why nothing ever got done and they were JUST about to start doing stuff when the Hbomberguy video released. You know what, I can believe it, although I am very doubtful considering all James ever does is lie. Idk. 

once again trying to excuse his plagiarism with needing to pay two rents and thus needing to make more videos for more sponsors and not having the time to not plagiarise like please. i don't believe that they were in that dire need of money and if they were - just get a fucking stable job and put youtube on the backburner. 

also once again trying to make it all about him by once again talking about his suicide attempt and death threats. like. no one should suffer through that kind of mental anguish but honestly I cannot bring myself to feel sympathy for this man. and i see this as an attempt to gather pity points.

“nick worked very hard on these videos other three years and it's unfair to [them] (james says that they're non-binary but doesn't indicate their pronouns anywhere? and in the beginning he uses they/them but later only he/him so idk what their pronouns are but it seems like they/them is at least part of their pronouns so i'm just going to use that) that they all got taken down” well y'all shouldn't have fucking plagiarised then. let this be a lesson maybe and don't fucking show your face on youtube again!

he is fucking relaunching his channel. like james. this isn't something you come back from. no one will ever be able to trust you ever again and you don't deserve an audience. he claims all the revenue will go to Hbomberguy's fund but we have no way to verify this. we have no way to know just how much he makes and how much of that is actually going to the fund. i don't trust him with any money. which is why i watched a reupload rather than the original. he's also releasing a new video he claims is entirely by him. like?????? don't???????

he also might not relaunch his existing patreon but he's still making a new one.

he claims he will “work his ass off” to make non-plagiarised videos. like that isn't “working your ass off” that's the bare fucking minimum. I really want to trust him. and I want to believe he'll actually try to do better. and maybe he will. and i believe in second chances, even for someone as despicable as him. but throughout this video he has continuously tried to play down what he did. tried to make excuses for everything. and that's why i am not going to give him a second chance. if he can't even admit what he did i don't trust him to not do it again. and i also just plainly don't want to endorse a person making such arguments.

also, he plugs his fucking new patreon right after this.

“this video is not about me promoting myself. it's about me apologising.” the only fucking person you actually ‘apologised’ to is Jessie Gender. 

James Somerton: makes a billion fucking excuses. Also James Somerton: “These are not excuses. There is no excuse for what I did.”

this entire video was just a publicity stunt. he tries to humanise himself and repair his image. this is just a tool to be able to continue on and continue making money.

he also still claims the disney video was based on the Celluloid Closet and he credited the author and ignores that this wasn't the only author he fucking plagiarised in that video. he is trying to reduce his plagiarsm to incorrect crediting and mistakes and that is disgusting.

the least he could have done was mention by name out loud every author he plagiarised and what work he plagiarised. not just say “uuuh i'm sorry to everyone I plagiarised QAQ”

[vizslasaber]

UNDERSTANDING ──── echo.

summary: in the middle of the night, echo finds you, hurt and exhausted and in need of an apology.

pairing: arc trooper echo x reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: none! just a sprinkling of angst and grief.

a/n: i love echo so much & im so glad he’s okay as of the finale!! this takes place sometime around the early seasons, but after the season 1 episode “cornered.” also, i listened to waves by chloe moriondo while writing this!

You’re not sure what to think of Echo.

Most of the time, he’s quiet. When he does speak, it’s usually to enforce a rule, remind the group of their current plan, or to keep Wrecker in check. You’ve seen his softer side, with Omega and occasionally his brothers, and it’s rare but honestly endearing.

The thing about him that most irks you, however, is that he never wants to seem to interact with you.

Officially, Hunter is the group leader; ever since Clone Force 99 accepted you into their squad, that much has been clear. You’re the only non-clone—or “natborn” as the others refer to you—living on the Marauder. It’s been several months since you saved Omega from bounty hunters on your home planet of Pantora, and now, you’re as much a part of the Bad Batch as anyone else.

Except, you’re not a batcher. Not really.

Despite how much you care for your squadmates, it’s easy to feel separated from them at times. Easy to feel different. Most of the others have picked up on this by now, and often go to great lengths to make you feel like one of them.

Not Echo, though. He seems—wary of you, almost, and you’re not sure why. Once, you brought it up to Tech, who simply waved you off with one of his shrewd, knowledge-filled comments. “You are new here, you know. Some people are simply slower to open up than others.”

You, however, know that’s not the case. You’ve seen Echo with his brothers, and with Omega. He can be kind, and funny, and even angry. But to you… to you, he’s nothing but quiet.

For some time, you tried your hardest to be yourself around him—to crack your usual sarcastic jokes at his expense, to be friendly, like you are with the others. But the constant avoidance and clipped answers leave you increasingly confused and hurt.

So you withdrew from him, too.

It still bothers you, sometimes. But you’ve learned to brush it off.

Now, you sit in the cockpit, feet resting against the control panel. A ration bar—one of the good ones—rests in your hand. Every so often, as you watch the blue glow of hyperspace streak past the viewport, you take a bite of the ration bar.

You’re on first watch. Someone has to stay in the cockpit to oversee the ship’s journey back to Ord Mantell—and, since you still can’t fall asleep in hyperspace, you keep volunteering for the job. The cockpit is mostly dark. All the lights are off, and the viewport is dimmed. Anything brighter reminds you of how sleep-deprived you are, and so you’re content to sit in the blue gloom.

Leaning your head against the headrest of the pilot’s chair, you close your eyes. Your entire body feels heavy with exhaustion, but every time you try to drift off, the rumbling of the ship’s hyperdrive jerks you awake.

The sound of footsteps startles you. You open your eyes, leaning around the back of the chair to inspect what little part of the ship’s corridor you can see. You can hear the sounds of someone moving around by the small common area, but you can’t tell who it is.

Tech’s probably experimenting again, you think wryly, and settle back into your comfortable position.

Soon, though, the footsteps grow closer. Someone enters the cockpit with a tired sigh, placing something on one of the chairs nearer to the door. It sort of sounds like Hunter, but with the similarity between everyone’s voices, you can’t be sure.

The footsteps halt suddenly. You look up to find honey-coloured eyes surveying you with apprehension. In the dim light, awash with blue, you register the glint of a cybernetic headpiece.

“Oh,” you say, blinking up at Echo, “hi.”

Echo only grunts.

You frown, looking down at your hands, at your half-eaten ration bar. “It’s late,” you say quietly. “You, um—you should get some rest.”

When Echo answers, you don’t look up. He says, voice low and gravelly with sleep, “I slept for a couple hours.”

Slowly, you nod, fiddling with the foil wrapper of the ration bar. The cockpit falls silent; you wait for Echo to leave, but he stays still, his shadow falling over your tired frame.

You want to ask why he’s still here. You want to be rude, to ask him to leave so you can have some peace and quiet. But truthfully, he isn’t saying anything, or causing any disturbances, so instead you hold up your unfinished ration bar. “You want a bite?”

Echo blinks. It seems to take him a moment to process your question. Then, to your faint surprise, he nods. “Thank you,” he says as you hand him the ration bar wordlessly.

It’s a peace offering, of sorts.

He sits in the co-pilot’s chair and takes a hesitant bite, chewing slowly. You see his expression brighten—probably at the realization that this is one of the good ration bars, the kind that Hunter always says not to hog—then return to his usual neutral one.

You watch as he swallows. He hands you back the bar, holding out his hand, but you don’t take it.

“Why… why are you here?” you ask quietly.

As soon as the words leave your mouth, Echo drops his arm and breaks eye contact, looking almost embarrassed. Or maybe even ashamed.

Still, you wait for his answer. Several long, painful seconds pass before he says anything. When he speaks, it’s like he’s forcing out the words.

“I wanted to—” he pauses. His flesh hand fiddles with his metal one. “I wanted to apologize.”

You feel your breath hitch. Staring, you try not to gape. “What?” you say, whispering without meaning to. “I don’t—”

“I’ve been horrible to you,” Echo continues, voice steadier. “I didn’t mean to be so… withdrawn. I didn’t realize I was doing it. I… I hope you can forgive me.”

Instead of acknowledging his apology, you bite the inside of your cheek with uncertainty, then cross your arms over your chest. One of the others must have put him up to this. Probably Omega, or perhaps Hunter. Raising an eyebrow, you ask, “Who sent you?”

“No one!” Echo replies hurriedly, then presses his lips into a thin line. “I mean, Hunter told me that you—he said that—” He sighs. “I didn’t realize it on my own. But I came because I wanted to.”

You blink, cursing yourself when you feel your eyes sting. With a start, you realize that this is the most Echo has said to you since you joined the squad.

Taking in a breath, you wring your hands anxiously. “I just… I just don’t understand why.” You shrug. “You’re not the same with me. Not like how you are with the others.”

Echo swallows. “It’s not—”

“I just want to know what I did wrong.”

At that, Echo falls silent. Guilt permeates the air, enough that you can feel it.

“Hey,” Echo says, kinder than you’ve ever heard him. “Look at me.”

You do. His eyes, like lava, or maybe liquid gold, bore into you. It almost hurts to look.

“This,” he continues, gesturing to the space between you, “is not your fault.”

Against your will, a lone tear slips down your cheek. “So whose fault is it?” you whisper, barely loud enough to be heard over the ship’s engine

It’s obvious from the look on Echo’s face that he’s thinking of something—or someone—specific. Despite how much you want to, you don’t push.

You just wait.

“It’s my brother,” Echo finally murmurs, and you raise your eyebrows, quickly cycling through the rest of your squad. Hunter, Wrecker, Tech… maybe Crosshair? You can’t think what any of them, even the one who’s no longer a member of your group, have to do with you.

“Your... brother,” you repeat dumbly.

“Yes.” Echo nods. “Fives.”

Oh. A fellow soldier, then. Probably from before the war ended… and probably long dead.

Drawing in a shaky breath, you hastily wipe your cheek with your sleeve. “What—what about him?”

“You…” Echo shakes his head, then lets out a humourless chuckle as he turns to look at the viewport, at the swirling blues and whites and greys of hyperspace. When he speaks again, his voice is barely above a whisper. “You remind me of him.”

You blink.

Truthfully, you have no idea what to say to that. Luckily, Echo continues, saving you from having to come up with an answer.

“Your sense of humour, I mean. The sarcasm, the jokes.” He shrugs, and the light from the viewport catches on his cybernetic headpiece, glinting in the otherwise dim cockpit. “And… and the way you know people.”

“‘Know people’?” you echo, confused. “I’m not following.”

“You understand people,” Echo says, and finally looks at you again, eyes impossibly sad. “Somehow, without ever having experienced what others have gone through, you understand their pain—and you feel it with them.” He closes his eyes for a brief moment, then opens them again. “Fives used to do that too.”

And suddenly, as though a switch inside you has been flipped, it all makes sense. “And that’s why you’ve been avoiding me,” you realize, and Echo winces. “Because I remind you of him.”

“See?” The barest hint of a smile graces his lips. “You’re doing it now. And you’re not even trying.”

“I guess I never thought about it like that.”

“I’m sorry for everything,” Echo says. “I am. It just…”

“Hurts,” you finish, and Echo blinks, surprised. You smile softly. “I know you too, you know.” Reaching out, you take his flesh hand, gently prying it open and taking the ration bar. As Echo watches, you split the remaining piece in half and hand one to him. “And for what it’s worth—I forgive you.”

The shadows colouring Echo’s face suddenly seem lighter. He smiles, then—really smiles.

You take a bite of the ration bar and smile back.

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[madschiavelique]

I saw your dating headcanons for BG3 guys and I loved it.

I hope it's okay to ask for Enver Gortash dating headcanons for fem s/o please, love that racoon man 🦝💕

omg thank u !! hell yea the racoon man!!!

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ pairing : gortash x fem!reader

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ content warning : none, absolute fluff, fem reader, no use of y/n

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ words : 382

( not proofread, english is not my first language ☆)

dating gortash means that his lap is your throne while he’s sitting on his. He doesn’t have a single shame about it, he wants to display how breathtaking his partner is to the eyes of the entire world, which means he has to have you at all time near him.

once you get your official throne by his sides though, he mourns the feeling of having you sitting on him, of his golden covered fingers combing through your hair as he distantly listens to whatever complaints has been brought forth to him today. But he knows that once you’re both out of the throne room, he’ll get just as much of you as he wishes.

It also means calling the most refined couturiers there are in all kingdoms to dress you. He could spend all day just admiring how each and every colour suits you, how the shapes and forms of the gowns that are made for you makes you look like a painting ready for the museum of his mind.

‘How could one become hotter when putting on more clothes ?’ is the question he keeps pondering as you try yet another gown. Don’t assume he simply fills your wardrobe, no : necklaces, earrings, he buys you the sweetest of sweets, employs the finest of cooks, instals the softest of sheets. It’s like living like a princess.

But when he can’t be by your side for whatever reasons, such as his duties depriving him from you, the world seems a lot duller. He spends a lot of time doing paperwork, endlessly sitting at his desk while somehow managing not to cover his fingers in ink.

He stays up till late at night to just make sure every paper is completed so that he can spend the rest of his time with you.

You come to see him when it’s so late, sitting on his lap again as he works, hugging him warmly and softly from your sleepiness as you mumble in his neck for him to come to bed.

He smiles, murmuring “not yet” as you groan and just remain like this. All tensions that he had from work before vanish from your touch and presence. He finishes writing another boring report before calling it a night and standing up from his desk while holding you to him, sleeping like a koala. He'll lay you on your shared bed, placing a soft kiss on your temple before preparing for the night.

[lotusmi]

THE MIRAGE 💫 VOID STATE

CAUTION ⚠️✋use it at your own risk 😱😱dmt frequency!!! (this is safe i am just clickbaiting here lol)

this is way too powerful, believe me.

New void sub! Use for entering ONLY⚠️

This contain DMT FREQUENCY!

What is DMT? ✩ Dimenthyltryptamine (DMT) is a hallucinogenic drug that can distort your view of reality.

A DMT Frequency can give you the benefits of DMT in a healthy and safe way. (It is not addictive)

I decided to use this since in DMT Frequency videos you can find lots of void success (they don't know it is the void)

DMT is also called "The God Molecule"

"I thought they called it “the God molecule” because you met your maker, but instead, you realize that you are God—all of us are, every living thing. Ego death doesn’t mean you disappear, it means you become more than you’ve ever been. Losing the separate self means merging with everything; you exist on all planes and perceive them simultaneously. (…) you realize the meaning of a phrase that once sounded so trite: You have everything you need, and it’s been with you the whole time. "

What are the DMT effects?

“The subjective experience is generally described as transcendent, often involving ego-dissolution, non-dual awareness"

“users of 5-MeO-DMT often describe content-free experiences, associate[d] with loss of sense of self and bodily awareness, and sensory deprivation (described as all-white light, or all-black), with common descriptors such as: ‘emptiness’, ‘nothingness’ or ‘VOID’.

What I am going to experience?

✩ The 3 effects I myself tested and proved is:

1. Time will pass fast. Really. 40 minutes will appear to be 5 minutes. 2. Your body will feel completely numb in less than 5 minutes. 3. Your mind will feel calm and blissful.

you can also see lights, it is okay. This is safe, I made it with love.

How should I listen to it?

Use for ENTERING ONLY, this is not a saturation sub, is for entering. Headphones are NEEDED, both ears! You can lay down or sit. Pick a comfortable position and relax. Affirm only if you want, just let it be, relax, take long breaths if you want.

✰ tip: just relax and let it go. You will enter in void naturally.

This sub contain morphic fields.

Energy charged with an Ametist! "some believe amethyst's calming presence produces soothing dreams by bringing the dreamer more in tune with the Divine", "carries a tremendous amount of spiritual and metaphysical power". The ametist power will make you be safe ♡

More than 14 million "I have mastered the void" affs and more, I lost the count lmao.

๋࣭ ⭑๋࣭ ⭑๋࣭ ⭑ -`✧ ⭑๋࣭ made with love. ♡

[treyisms]

i beg for ur thoughts on matt and or trey with an innocent reader

this totally isn’t gg btw

oh, lets get into this anon (my gi 😉)

cw: nsfw content (eighteen plus!), fluff, innocent/virgin f!reader, if this isn’t your thing that is a-okay lovebug but pls don’t be rude to anon or myself ! ☮️🫶🏻💌

trey:

- we already know this man has a corruption kink, there is significant evidence, so i think he’d absolutely love a kind hearted & innocent (probably virgin) gf

- you’re sitting on his lap while he giggles after he makes a joke (probs “the aristocrats” one) and you don’t get it :(

- holding his hands up in front of him to regain his breath after he giggled so much you were nearly bouncing off his lap, “baby…. think about it” “think about what trey?! you’re just saying a bunch of dirty words!!!”

- he knows how easily you get blushy and he’ll lean down and whisper in your ear while giving your cheek a little pinch “what’s got you so red honey, huh?”

- tells all his buddies “she’s a nice girl, i mean like a nice girl”

- when he finds out you’re not sexually active, or haven’t even teetered onto being sexually involved…. omfg .

- “what do you mean you’ve never been touched before?” “i’ve just never got around to it..” “what, being fucked?” “TREY!….. i’ve never been … felt like that before” “oh, so you’re missing out & depriving some other stupid fuck of a girl like you” “maybe i like the “stupid fucks” of the world” “well obviously or you wouldn’t be dating me babe”

- one day, while just sitting on the couch with your head in his lap, staring up at him & tracing his face, just to throw him for a loop, you ask to suck him off & his eyes almost bug out of his skull because of how earnest you look

- “w-what?” “can i suck your co—” and he is immediately sitting cradling ur head and lifting his hips to untie his sweats <3333

- he loves to doodle you (even before you’re dating) with little hearts all around your head in a sweet little sunddress you wore on the first day you met

- the first day you met he told matt “oh fuck, i gotta have her dude” and he’s said that many times since in different contexts

- mf LOVES a height difference & loves to look down at you with his perpetual heart eyes like “hi y/n, you look really nice today, is that a new top?” while playing with the string of your tank top

- but once again, it’s trey so he is naturally staring at your chest & the lil dainty necklace dangling between it as your breathing picks up due to your closeness to him

- tells EVERYONE you’re the sweetest person he knows and is so genuine about it, probably says that lil “y/n makes me better, ya know?” sll the time & even matt can’t help but smile for his friend

matt:

- matthew richard stone where on earth do i begin?

- you definitely start out as friends first, because believe it or not matt has a huge soft spot for gentler souls with pure energy (shocker)

- quickly moves to him becoming infatuated with the way you jump at little, friendly touches from him on your arm or back

- like one time he touches your waist to move past you in a quick “excuse me” motion and he sees the way you get goosebumps and he is ABSOLUTELY hooked

- will absolutely be man spreading in a meeting & can sense you’re staring without even LOOKING at you

- turns to face you across the table (while trey is still speaking btw) and asks “i look good today?” with this nasty lil smirk while he waits for you to sputter out a response

- when he speaks the entire room quiets down because matt, believe it or not, has a really domineering personality & everyone stops to listen to his real deep voice

- “you like the beard?” literally eyeing you down & scratching at his chin cause he loves to see you blush

- he thinks you have the absolute most beautiful eyes & i’ve said this before and i’ll say it again he 100% calls you “angel eyes” & all variations of it

- you’ve just made out in his office & you move back to stand after a knock at the door & this mf is heaving with lil lipstick marks across his cheeks, mouth, neck & collarbone looking at you like prey & HES SO BIG LIKE SO TALL, goin “pretty eyes, you leavin me?”

- definitely the “places your hand on his hard-on & goes ‘see what you do to me?” type of guy

- matt LOVES to be around someone who is just genuinely enjoying life & trying to keep the peace rather than be money hungry or obsessed with ultimatums, so he finds your energy super refreshing

- “i like being with you” “really matt?” “yeah, you’re sweet, and i don’t feel like i need to be a dick around you to push you away” “well… i’m glad you’re not being…… mean, to me either” “i couldn’t be if i tried, i can’t be mean to pretty girls it’s against my moral code or some shit”

- you’re literally such a comfort to him, because you don’t see the bad parts of him as horrendous & you accept him & his temper for who he is <3

- that being, on the other side of things, he absolutely loves watching trey tell you a gross joke & seeing you not entirely understand it, tilting your head and squinting your eyebrows and staring off a bit trying to piece it together

- if it’s reallyyyy dirty matt wants to be the ONLY person telling you what it means because he cannot handle the idea of anyone being remotely romantic or sexual around you but him

- “and so the hooker says—” “trey don’t be fucking disgusting” “WHAT? matt you loved that joke last week!” “well now i don’t and it’s gross so shut the fuck up”

- turning back to you with a wink <33333

[danoberry]

★ object of your affection (hank devereaux x reader) SMUT 18+

description: after many “private” sessions with your professor, you finally get what you’ve been wanting.

content: SMUT 18+!!!, age gap (reader is in her 20s), use of the word “kiddo” a lot, kinda cum play, teasing, more stuff but it’s unimportant and it’s 12:30am

pronouns: you/yours (female reader)

wc: 2.7k

afab genitalia

AN:

hi guys! i’m really back! new content, woo! when i fade out of my interests, there’s a gap of time where i really have no interests. after i stopped being OBSESSED with paul dano, i finished breaking bad and watched better call saul, which, of course, sparked a huge interest and an infatuation with bob odenkirk. with that being said, here is the new fic. i hope everyone, even my religiously devoted dano fans, enjoy!

The sound of your foot against the floor tip-tapped with the cadence of a song running through your mind. You stood at Professor Devereaux’s door, waiting for the one-on-one session that you had asked him for, for the fourth week in a row. After his outburst in class, you had noticed he had been more stressed than ever before. You wouldn’t have cared as much if you didn’t have such a good bond with him, but with your similar humor (and consistent effort) you both got along very well. It was never your intention to become so close to your much older professor, but lack of friends and need for validation led you to this friendship.

Professor Devereaux was an ethical man. So you thought, at least until the outburst. For what it was worth, you agreed with what he was preaching. The college he taught at, the one you went to, was mediocrity’s capital. There was nothing special about it. What he said was right. The idiotic kid who kept dragging on the situation knew nothing about the man you knew. Someone practical. Someone witty. Someone caring. So as you stood there tapping your feet, you thought about how off-topic this one-on-one session with your professor could get. Or on the contrary, how off-topic you could make it. 

“Hey, Y/N,” you heard a voice say as you looked up from your feet. 

“Hey, Professor,” you replied, getting out of the doorway and watching as Prof. Devereaux grabbed the keys from his pocket and unlocked the door. 

“Listen, kid, I’m super sleep deprived. I’ll look at your paper to the best of my ability, but I can’t promise world class advice.” 

“That’s okay. I kinda just wanted to eat somewhere besides the cafeteria.” 

He replied sarcastically, “Go right ahead, I’ll sit and watch you.” 

He sat in his chair across from you as you grabbed the salad from your bag. You pulled up your paper on your laptop, beginning to eat. 

“Jeez, you're making me hungry now,” he said, laughing and looking at his computer. 

“Yeah, well, I’d offer you some but I don’t want any cross-contamination going on.” 

“I’ll live. I think I have a vanilla Coke in the fridge out there. Be right back,” he opened the door, “before I die of hunger!” 

You ate your salad as you waited for him to get back, aimlessly scrolling on Pinterest. When he did come back, he carried two cans of Coke in his hands, one for him, and one for you. 

“See, I’m not as selfish as everyone is saying,” he said. 

“Definitely not. Thanks, Professor.” 

He sat down and leaned against the desk. “You gonna show me your paper?”  

“Oh yeah, here.” You flipped the screen and showed him what you were working on, and he invited you to sit on the other side of the desk with him, pointing out details that you didn’t need or needed to add. You took a sip of your Coke and grabbed a mint from across the desk after you were done with the salad. Slowly, you unconsciously started to scoot closer to him, closing the gap between your bodies substantially. You looked up at his gaze upon your screen, studying his facial features. You studied his hair and his beard and its color. You watched his eyes flick from each side of the screen as he read. Right then and there, you reached a breaking point. God, you couldn’t bear looking at such a handsome face and not being able to mess with it. He was so successful and attractive and intelligent. You wanted him to ruin you. 

You leaned closer to him, pretending to read your paper again. Slowly, you began to rub his shoulder as he read. He didn’t tense up or ask for you to stop, responses you could have received. Instead, he kept as he was. 

“What’re you doing?” He asked absentmindedly.

“I don’t know. I’ll stop-“ 

“No, it’s fine. I was just wondering if you could get the other shoulder.” 

You paused for a moment. 

“Uh, yes sir.”

“Don’t feel obligated. You just do it very well.” 

You blushed hard. “Thank you,” you nearly whispered. 

“Thank you. Could you get the blinds too?” 

You nodded your head while you got up, letting your hand linger on his shoulder until you couldn’t touch him anymore. As you shut the blinds, your professor looked over at you, tracking your body with his eyes. When you walked back over to him, you massaged his shoulders as he finished his reading and revising. You leaned closer to his head and watched your screen that he had control over. 

“There you are,” he said, taking his hands off of your keyboard, lifting one to rub your fingers that were resting on his shoulder. “Sit down, let me talk to you for a moment.” 

You let go of his shoulders and sat down next to him. “You’re one of my most promising students,” he started. “You’re not like these… ignoramuses I deal with every day…”

“Thank you, professor,” you said, nervous from the intimacy of the conversation. He leaned back and smiled. 

“I think we can get rid of the formalities now, don’t you think…? You can call me Hank when we’re alone.” 

You nodded your head, still blushing and timid from the conversation. 

“You don’t have to act so shy,” he teased. “I know what you’re trying to do. To be frank, it’s working… if that gives you any validation. You want one-on-one ‘lessons’ with me after class almost every week, and all we do is sit and talk. I’ve caught on. Scooting close to me while I read your essays, which I know you write just so we can have these ‘lessons.’ I know you want to mess with me. You’ve got me right where you want me.” 

You sat there in awe, the numbness in your thighs dialing down as you got more comfortable with the fact that he knew you were attracted to him. Hank leaned closer to you, and instead of letting him take initiative, you leaned into him and met his lips between his beard. He tasted the mint flavor on your tongue. 

“What was that about ‘cross contamination?’ Wintergreen, huh? How’d you know that was my favorite?” 

“Lucky guess.”

You kissed him again and felt the softness of his beard against your skin. It was a new feeling, something you had never experienced. You had only been with men your age. You melted in the thought; you were able to kiss such an experienced man, one who even knew how to speak to you so sweetly. You swooned over Hank’s quiet groans, ones he made when he was out of breath. Inching closer to the man, touring your hand up his knee and onto his thigh, he whispered to you, “Right here,” having you straddle his lap over the seat. He told you ‘atta girl’ when you adjusted your hips on top of him. 

“Jesus Christ, kiddo. I don’t know how you expect me to last long if I’m getting this undone from just touching you.”

“Who knows, maybe I could teach an old dog new tricks today,” you laughed. Hank kissed your neck, tickling you and making you giggle even more. 

“Who are you calling old?” 

“More like… mature,” you said, still giggling from the ticklish neck kisses. 

“Mature, huh? I guess you wanna know how someone so mature can make you feel then?” 

“I think I’d like that very much.” 

Hank took hold of your pants’ button and unclasped it, afterwards unzipping your zipper. You stood up quickly to kick them off, displaying a perfect pair of lace panties you had worn every single time you had a “session” with him. Hank unbuckled his belt, dropping it to the floor, and he undid his button and zipper. 

“I bet you wore those underwear just for me, didn’t you? How dirty.” 

“But you like them, right?” You asked jokingly, turning around squeezing your ass in your hands. You straddled Hank again and kissed him. “Talk about dirty, you’re about to have sex with one of your students in your office.” 

“Trust me,” he said, “if I could take you home with me right now, I would.” 

“And what would you do with me if you did?” You asked him, grinding a bit harder against his crotch than you were before.

“A lot more than what we can do right now.” 

“Why don’t you give it your all, then?”

“Pshh, ‘give it my all.’ You’re really asking for it, huh?” 

“Hank, I’m on my knees.”

You kissed him again and rubbed against his crotch, making sure he could feel the wetness seeping through your panties. Hank hummed when he felt you graze his cock. You stood up and watched as he pulled down his underwear and unbuttoned his shirt. Seeing his cock lay so perfectly against his stomach made your legs weak, and you swore you could feel yourself salivating. You bent down over his cock and watched as pre-cum leaked in little beads from his tip. You kissed the tip of his length, giving it kitten licks. You could see the twitch of his cock just from teasing him.

“God- ah- fuck, kid. Get on top of me.” 

With zero hesitation, you climbed back onto his lap and moved your panties to the side, giving Hank kisses on his lips and grinding against his cock, waiting for a moment before taking him all. You stood up and positioned yourself over his cock, sitting back down with an exasperated shudder, moaning into his neck. Hank expelled a large breath against your skin, feeling your pussy wrap around him so perfectly. 

“Ah- wow, you feel good.” 

“Who, me?” You sarcastically remarked, panting. 

Hank squeezed your ass and moved it up and down on his cock. “Don’t get all smart-elicy on me now. We both know where you get it from.” 

He breathed between his teeth, almost audibly whining, when you deliberately clenched around his cock.

“If you mean myself, then you’d be correct.” 

Hank pounded into you harder than before, shocking you from the abrupt change in pace. You worried to whine as quietly as you could into his shoulder. “Smart brats make good dumb bunnies, kiddo.” 

“I- ah- oh, fuck!” You moaned as quietly as you could in his ear. 

“Hmph, yeah, see what I mean?” 

He groaned with hot breaths against your skin, making you clench harder around his cock again. You drooled against his shoulder and whined, nearly incomprehensible.

“Ah- hng- I- feels so- good!” 

“You- fuck- like that?”

“Mhm..!”

Through his groans, Hank teased you again, “Hmm, I think you could have it a little more rough.” 

You moaned into his neck, drooling as he pounded his cock into you, stretching your hole. Whatever response you could have given, you couldn’t. He stopped pounding into you for a moment and tucked your hair out of your pretty face to look at you, holding your hand and rubbing his calloused fingers over yours. 

“You wanna bend over for me, kiddo?” 

You mewled and kissed his lips, nodding, despite how tired and sore you were. You got off of his lap, feeling cold and empty from the lack of friction. Wetness seeped around your pussy and around your thighs as you spread your legs and bent down over his desk. 

“I’m teasing you, but you really are doing so well for me,” he said, bending over and kissing your cheek. “Don’t lay your head like that. Here, sweetheart.” He put his hand on the left side of your cheek, creating a barrier between your head and the hard desk. Hank massaged your ass with his other hand, before shoving his wet cock back into you, making you moan at the feeling. 

Hank tried keeping the noises at a minimum, yet still trying to pound into you and hit the spots that made you arch farther up his stomach. You could tell he was close to cumming, but God, you didn’t want it to end. With every thrust, you could feel him becoming more tense, groaning, letting out hot breaths. His thrusts were becoming sloppier and quicker. 

“Where- oh fuck- where do you want- ah- it?” 

“Cum in me, please! Please, please please!” 

 Hank grunted as quietly as he could, almost moaning, when you felt his cock twitch inside you. Cum spurted over your walls, making your pussy clench around him. You felt bad about not being able to cum as he pulled out of you, kissing your shoulder. 

“Hank,” you said quietly as you turned around and played with your clit.

“What’s up, kiddo?” He replied in his chair, out of breath.

“I couldn’t cum,” you practically mumbled. 

“Poor thing,” he said, sitting up and kissing your face. “I’ll fix it, don’t worry.”

You played with your clit softly when he sat back down in his chair, scooting towards your pussy and spreading your legs. You watched Hank as his head moved down to your crotch, and he collected the cum that was seeping out of your hole on his fingers and raised them to your mouth. You sucked them gently, before he brought his hand back down to your hole and began fucking you with his fingers and flicking his tongue over your clit. You whined out and tried squeezing your thighs, but to no avail, because he was already using his free hand to hold your legs down. You heard the wet noises that he made as he sucked on your puffy clit, making the knot in your stomach tighten. 

“Ah- oh, fuck! Ah, hngg, Hank!” You moaned as you tried to bite your lip. You could feel his smile curl against your pussy, and you held your orgasm for as long as you could, trying to relax your muscles. Only a few seconds after, however, did you let go, pulsating and cumming all around his calloused fingers. Hank licked the mixture of his cum and yours from your hole, kissing you. 

You, sweaty and nearly incoherent from being fucked dumb, mustered up a, “You’re kissing me with cum in your mouth, but I’m the dirty one.” 

Hank laughed at your ability to joke, even though you were so tired and cum-drunk. “You got me there,” he said, kissing you again. You sat there, batting your eyes as you looked up and his foggy glasses. 

“Thank you,” you said, quietly. 

“Of course, kiddo. Thank you. You’re the best I’ve had in years.” 

You smiled. “Really?” 

“Well maybe not the best behaved, but…”

You laughed and rolled your eyes. Hank grabbed a few tissues from his closet, along with a blanket that he gave you once you hopped down from his desk. He wiped your legs off and around the base of his cock, getting himself ready for his class. 

“Don’t come to class today. Take a nap, I know you need it,” he said, putting his chair back. He kissed you when you sat down, and put his pants on after buttoning his shirt.

“I gotta get to my lecture and get this mess off in the restroom. Lock the door behind me, I’ll tell you when I’m back.” 

“Okay,” you said.

“You’re a good girl, you know that?” 

“I guess I do now,” you said, with a smirk on your face. Hank shook his head with a smile and kissed you again, before straightening himself out and walking out the door, shutting it behind him. He opened it back up and peeked in for just a second. 

“Same time next week?” He whispered. 

“Sooner.”

“You got it.” 

[simplydnp]

I live in Cali (between the LA and SD venues) and I might just pony up to go to both. SD is further away, but they are successfully guilting me into it LMAO

Here's the thing, though- I'm a relatively new fan (phan) and also I have social anxiety. So is it not worth doing the Meet and Greet? Should I save the spot for others who deserve it more and won't be shaky and stupid?? Or should I throw back a couple drinks for liquid courage and say phuk it?

I do want the VIP stuff and part of me does want to say hi to them, but I don't feel like I deserve it since I wasn't there from the beginning.

Sincerely,

A PHAKE PHAN

firstly welcome!!! it's always exciting to talk to new fans yall are here at such a great time ☺️

anxiety is a very real thing, and if you think a m&g is something you cannot handle, you know yourself enough to know. but if the only thing holding you back is 'someone else deserves it more' or 'i'll be shakey and stupid', please don't listen to that voice in your head. there's no 'deserve' as if it's something you have to earn. anyone can buy one (so long as they have the means). there's no set amount of time you've had to watch them, nor any 'behaviour' expectations (other than, yknow, don't assault them, but that's a given). it's okay if you're nervous and shakey--they're professionals, they'll take care of you. (i also know someone made a compilation of silly things dnp have said/done recently to help with the fear around 'what if i come off as stupid'.) firstly you're not stupid, but secondly, we all say/do silly/awkward/cringe/incorrect shit. it's okay. it's very hard to phase them; they've seen it all. in terms of alcohol, if that's what you need, go for it. but i wouldn't recommend getting entirely sloshed bc 1 you need to be able to get to and from the venue, and 2, you wanna remember it.

the point of this tour is to go see them. if they wanted to lock vip behind years watched, lore known, and number of posts made about them, they would have (i dont think thats like, possible though 😂). don't deprive yourself of an experience bc your brain is creating non-existent rules. no one there is gonna turn and look at you and go 'wow theyve only been here x weeks/months/days'. and if they do? fuck 'em. you're there because you enjoy their content. simple as that.

it's a celebration of dnp, so as long as you like them (or are going with someone who does) then you belong!

if it's possible, i absolutely recommend hitting both shows. the LA one is guaranteed to be wild, and if san diego happens, it'll be a smaller crowd, which is kind of an awesome vibe.

[hwalilac]

Ateez Kinks

⇴ a/n: I do not know Atz personally, nor am I trying to say that any of this is truthful. I am only guessing based off their personality, and my experiences with them and their content.

Hongjoong

Exhib: Although he’s possessive of his lover, he also loves the idea of one of his members walking in on you two having intimacy. Mostly because he loves showing off that you’re only his to touch, the boys can look but not touch. However, part of him just likes being watched, knowing how powerful he is, loving intimidating those who watch.

Sp*nking: He adores disciplining you. Loves when you act like a privileged little brat so he can get it out of you. He’ll drag you over his lap, make sure your ass is bare so you’ll feel every slap, and make your ass tomato red. He especially loves pairing it with dirty talk, so once he’s done, he’ll find you soaking wet and leaking all over his thigh.

Seonghwa

DD /LG: Nothing to do with age, but more so taking care of his lover, sexually and romantically. He also gets off on being called “daddy”, though I think he would be okay with “mommy” as well. He’s also very good with his lovers that fall into sub space, treating them well and appropriately.

Impreg: Something about thinking of your tits filled with milk, stomach round and big, it makes him harder than he’s ever been before. Part of him wants to be a dad so badly, so there’s definitely a romantic part of the kink. However, he also just likes how hot you’d like being pregnant. Especially when he thinks about how you wouldn’t be very active when close to labor, so you’d just lay there and be ready for intimacy most of the time.

Yunho

Bo//ndage: He loves having complete and total power over you. The way you struggle getting out… it makes him hard instantly. Sometimes he’ll just leave you there, often with a vibrator attached to your clit, and have a camera recording you. He’ll also sit in a chair in the corner of the room, where the light doesn’t reach, watching to beg for him to touch you.

Sensory Deprivation: He loves putting a blindfold over your eyes. He loves the trust you put in him, to be able to control your body and senses. He’s often gentle when doing this kink, as to not overwhelm you too quickly. He mostly just lightly touches you, or uses a toy, but nothing serious. Sometimes he includes earbuds with music, but it’s not often.

Predator/Prey: Yunho feeds off of the power and dominance you give him. He loves playing hide and seek, especially at night. He always knows where you hide, but it’s fun to play regardless. Especially when you try running from him. He loves to catch you more than anything, pinning you down and taking you right where he finds you. You can resist all you want, but when he finds you, you’ll take what he gives you (unless you say your safe word, which Yunho would probably take a safe word the most seriously out of anyone)

Yeosang

Manhandling: I truly think he likes showing off his strength. Something about the way you check out his muscles, touching and squeezing his body. He loves impressing his lover. Then again, he also loves you being helpless, flailing around in his arms as he carry’s you into your bedroom only to ruin you. He loves the dominance he feels when you’re helpless like that, but he always checks in on you to see if you’re okay.

Voyeur: He often likes to watch or listen to other members fucking their lovers. He really doesn’t want to be creepy, but something about watching the dynamic of two lovers, especially when it’s dom/sub stuff, he just gets so turned on. He’ll be standing outside of Seonghwa or Hongjoong’s doors, quietly groaning with his hand on his hard on.

San

Shibari: Not only does he loves creating art, but he just loves watching you struggle in the ropes once you’re too turned on. Loves pressing a vibrating wand against you and watch you squirm. But the art… there’s nothing like finishing a difficult, yet beautiful piece on you. And then he’ll take a picture to get off to later on.

Edging: He LOVES edging his lover. It’s like a game to him, something he needs to win. This man will edge you for hours upon hours. However, he’s very careful not to push you too far. He’s not too rough on you. But once you cum, you practically black out, your orgasm being so powerful. He knows how to get you there in seconds, but also in hours.

Mingi

Oral: Not exactly a kink, but he gets off on it like a kink. He loves burying his face in your cunt, sloppily licking and sucking. He practically gets drunk on cunt. It makes him so painfully hard, he ends up rutting on the bed while trying to get you to your orgasm. He doesn’t tease though, knowing you would whine or just shove his face back in your core.

Overstim: He loves having your hand wrapped around his cock, pumping him until he can’t cum anymore. He loves putting his trust in someone else, and being taken care of. He can often go for a long time, but needs breaks. He usually gets so sleepy that he needs a lot of aftercare.

Wooyoung

Overstim: Same with Mingi, he loves having the sensation overwhelm him to the point where he’s begging and almost crying. Sometimes he’ll even do it to himself, legs shaking violently at the pleasure and pain. He’ll usually do it until he ends up with over three orgasms.

Edging: Wooyoung also loves teasing his lover. Sometimes he takes you to the very edge, loving the way you cry and beg for his mercy. Unlike San, he’s not as careful. He’s quite mean in bed, not only edging you physically, but patronizing you verbally. His dirty talk certainly helps get you there, but he’s genius at knowing when you’re about to cum.

Roleplay: He just loves thinking of the most fun, yet weird scenarios to try out. His favorite is always being a CEO, who fucks their secretary. He’s always wanting to try something new, up to most scenarios. Not very into pet play, although he will play the owner if his lover wants to be his little slutty kitten or puppy.

Jongho

Manhandling: Jongho can’t help but dig his hands into a pair of thick thighs, lift his lover up and through them onto the bed. Couch, even. He always makes sure you’re safe, though. But there’s nothing like showing off his amazing strength, and watching your tits bounce after you land. He loves exuding power over you, and his strength is one of the ways to remain on top and be dominant.

Breath Play/Choking: Again, something about the power you give him, the dominance he uses to not only pleasure you, but to love and protect you. If you want to be choked, he’d do it in a heartbeat, staying up all night finding the safest yet most pleasurable way to do it. His hand on your neck, he loves fucking you while doing it. Loves bringing you to the edge, so your orgasm is even more powerful and overwhelming.

I do not give permission for anyone to repost my work

[devildom-moss]

Maybe just some nice Lucifer x GN!MC domestic fluffy headcanons? Thank you so much!

Thank you for the request! I got you. These are a little messy and unorganized, but I hope you enjoy them. I have them based more in the future/original game when MC and Lucifer live together.

Lucifer x gn!MC domestic fluff headcanons

MC is in the habit of brewing coffee or caffeinated tea for Lucifer and bringing it to his study for him when they know he has a lot of work to do.

Usually, he stops working for a few moments when this happens and asks you to join him for a minute. If his work is especially distressing, he may ask to kiss you for a while or hold you or have you hold him – he just needs a bit of physical affection to go on. Otherwise, he just likes to sit and sip his drink with you. Chatting with you always restores him and sets him at ease.

Sometimes, he barely mutters out a “thanks” when MC comes by. He usually feels like a dick the next day and buys them something to drink or eat as a proper “thank you.”

Just imagine him walking up after one of your classes with a pretty frappe, or other ice blended drink and handing it to you in front of everyone. He’d kiss your cheek, tell you “thanks for last night” (with no concern for how that sounds), and offer to walk you to your next class/home. Meanwhile, Asmo’s whining about not getting a pretty drink and how unfair it is that Lucifer’s kissing you in public and somehow also trying to get more details about what you did to Lucifer last night.

He asks you to come to his room to listen to music with him at least once a week.

Some people go to spas, some order a good meal, Lucifer asks MC to just chill and listen to music with him. Maybe they cuddle, maybe something a bit more intimate – who cares? It’s his form of self-care.

He is ready to commit homicide if someone keeps him out late on nights when you are cooking dinner. Someone dares deprive him of a fresh-cooked meal from his beloved? Absolutely not. Okay, maybe if it’s an emergency or a demand from Diavolo. But he’ll always text or call to give a heads up and ask (because he knows he’s not in a position to make demands) that you save some food for him. If you delay eating so you can eat dinner with him when he gets home, his heart will practically burst with affection. Expect at least two “I love you”s and multiple kisses when he sees you. He’s down so bad.

Whenever he gets drunk before bed, he immediately looks for you when he wakes up. His hand searches his bed for your warmth. He knows he gets a bit affectionate when he’s drunk, so he instinctively expects you to be nearby.

If you aren’t there, he’ll groan and force himself out of bed. He’ll check his phone for messages from you and head to your room. If you’re in bed, he’ll crawl in with you until you get up (even if someone else is already in your bed, he does not care, and he is not alert enough to care. He just wants to hold you.). If you’re somewhere else, he’ll search the whole house for you until he finds you. Once he does, he’ll walk over to you – cool and calm, as if he hadn’t been searching for you – and hug you.

If you are in bed with him, he’ll pull you closer and lie with you until you’re ready to get up.

Every once in a while, he asks to shower with you – which is hard to do without getting caught. Even if his mind wanders to all of things you could get up to in that shower, he’s usually just content to be there with you under the hot water. A real shocker with Horny 2.0 over here.

Don’t tell anyone, but he adores washing your hair and playing around with it when it’s all soapy with shampoo. He has definitely tried to turn you into a unicorn and had to stifle his laughter. (However, if you shave your head, he will, instead, draw swirls in the suds like he’s trying to recreate Van Gogh’s Starry Night.)

If he walks into a common room and finds you sitting or standing with your back to him, he will sneak up behind you and wrap his arms around you. This fucker demon will just chuckle if he startles you. “It’s just me, my love. Do I scare you that much?”

If you really hate him sneaking up on you and tell him to stop, he will – kind of. He’ll call out your name in a low, sultry voice before hugging you.

Errands that he used to run alone become opportunities to be with you. Did Beel empty the fridge? “MC, would you mind going to the store with me later?” Did Lucifer wear out his shoes? “I need to buy another pair of shoes. I was wondering if you could assist me with that.” Did someone steal your favorite body lotion and now you’re all out? “I heard. I’ll figure out which of those idiots was responsible. Why don’t I take you shopping later? We’ll pick up a new jar. Maybe you’ll find a new scent you like, too.”

He loves when he goes out with you and shop owners or random people assume he’s your partner. He pretends to think that being referred to as your boyfriend is childish and stupid, but he’s endeared by it.

Lucifer has an “MC’s stuff” drawer in his room. It contains spare clothes and other items you might need if you spend the night in his room (bonnets, pillowcases, a mouth guard, a stuffed animal – whatever you need/want). He also has a jar in there that has your favorite candies. The drawer is magically sealed so only you or him can open it.

Lucifer always offers to do your laundry with his – without fail. It’s not just your clothes, either. He’ll offer to wash your bedding or towels or curtains. I feel like laundry and cooking are the only chores he enjoys.

Lucifer leaves gifts on MC’s bed when they’re out – especially if he thinks they’re having a rough day or have been having a tough week.

He hates when MC is on someone else’s team when playing any sort of group games. In part because he can’t figure out whether he should let MC’s team win to see them smile, or if he should crush them so he can show off a bit.

Hidden in the depth of his closet is shirt of yours that he borrowed once and refused to return. If you’re gone for longer than a week, that shirt becomes his new pillowcase so he can feel closer to you before drifting off to sleep.

Lucifer has – at any time – at least 3 bottles of Demonus hidden throughout the house. One of them is always in your room somewhere. You know about half of his hiding spots.

Even though he’s possessive, he still appreciates seeing you spend time with his brothers. He’s struck by your patience and affection for his precious brothers. It is endearing how well you’ve settled into his family. Likewise, Lucifer is adorable when he gets along with his brothers, and they dial back the drama and chaos at least 50%.

Lucifer loves when you give him a once over before he leaves the house or if you help him get ready. He likes letting you fix his tie or put cufflinks in for him. He enjoys your soft touch as you smooth out his collar or fix his hair. Asmo still gets to do his nails because of tradition, but he’ll let you do his makeup or pick accessories for him.

[heavenhealy]

genre: smut, a bit of angst, porn with a bit of plot, professor!matty x grad student!reader, dom!matty x sub!reader, fem!reader

word count: 5.8k

summary: As a final year graduate student, its not always easy to come across people outside of your department who care about your research. When the handsome new philosophy professor takes interest, it seems too good to be true. And when he expresses his interest in you, you can't comprehend how lucky you are.

warnings: this is mature content so please do not go below the cut if you're uncomfy or under the age of 18! specific warnings include: swearing, discussion of an age gap but not a huge one, public sex (in an office w a locked door but still), unprotected sex (literally just don't be like them), spanking, hair pulling, praise, degradation, dirty talk, stereotypical professor things, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), handjob (m receiving)

an: I had a dream about professor!Matty once so here we are. also as always be aware that this was not proof read so there will likely be typos at some points lol also I know the ending is lame but I'm sleepy and couldn't think of anything better

You click through the slides of your presentation: all 45 of them in the same dull academic black and white format. The graphs and charts you've spent hours creating and perfecting are the only splashes of color. It's another day in another empty classroom with no windows, the slate grey tables and ergonomic chairs devoid of any sign of life as you clear your throat up at the wooden podium.

For as many times as you'd rehearsed this presentation you still get nervous, stuttering over your introduction slide as you start the timer to track how long it takes.

Your voice sounds monotone even to your own ears as you zone out, eyes unfocused as you gesture at the table of data derived from your near year of research. You're so dissociated that you think maybe you're seeing things when you catch a glimpse of dark hair edging into the door frame. You frown but keep talking, explaining your research methods the way you advisor has suggested makes the most sense even though everyone who will be listening is within your department anyway.

When your eyes skirt back to the doorway, you know you aren't sleep deprived enough to be hallucinating an entire man, leaning against the frame of the door, eyebrows scrunched in concentration as he scans your slide. You stutter over your words, stunned to see anyone there, let alone someone who seems so interested in your research.

"Uh, um, can I help you?" The mans eyes widen, snapping to your face, scanning you up and down quickly. You shamelessly do the same: skirting your eyes down the chunky knit sweater and loose fit trousers as you try to decipher the lines of the body they're hiding.

"Yeah, sorry, I just happened to be walking by-" the timber of his voice makes you shiver and you feel your heart flutter, spit becoming embarrassingly thick in your mouth.

"Anyway, this is really interesting, Miss..." he quirks an eyebrow as he waits for your name: and that's when it hits you. He must be a professor from another department, and a fairly new one at that.

"Y/N. Just Y/N. I'm not old enough to be a 'miss' yet." You feel your face heating as you speak and the mystery man inches further into the room so he's only a mere few feet away from you. It's still a respectable distance, but now you can see the streaks of gray running through the edges of his curls and you feel like your feet have been swept out from under you.

"Okay then, Y/N." He runs his tongue over the top row of his teeth and hums thoughtfully. "I'm Professor Matty Healy, I just started over in philosophy." He jabs his thumb over his shoulder and you nod, vaguely aware of where the building is. "And this is clearly out of my depth-" he gestures at the big screen, "I nearly failed my basic science courses. But this is really something."

You flush, not only at his attention but at the fact that he's complementing your research- that someone in a completely different department finds your work fascinating.

"O-oh, thanks, a lot of it is only good because of Professor Cannari, my advisor."

"I'll be sure to pass along my admiration to him, then." He stalls, hands rubbing down the fabric of his pants. "Well, I've got to go. Good luck practicing, Y/N." He salutes you as if he were in the army as he leaves and you can barely suppress the giggle until he leaves the room. Your heart swells, presentation suddenly forgotten as you scramble for your phone, scrambling to text your roommates about the sexy new philosophy professor.

----

The high from meeting Professor Healy had worn off by the next time you were set to meet with Professor Cannari. You had debated even canceling this meeting since you were up to your eyeballs in other course work and job applications; but the idea of the sweet elderly man and his bowl of candy waiting for you to show up made you cave. You trudge up to his office, the musty scent that permeates the building making your nostrils flare. Cannari is waiting, as he always is, behind his large desk. His old laptop whirs loudly but his boisterous voice booms over it as he welcomes you in.

"Ah, Y/N! I'm happy to see you!" You sit without being prompted. "Do you have anything specific you want to go over? Any issues with your presentation?" You shake your head, suddenly exhausted at the talk of your research again.

"Not really. I haven't changed anything since the last meeting, I've just been practicing the presentation." Professor Cannari nods, seemingly pleased by your work.

"Good. I do have something that I think will interest you," you cock an eyebrow, curious and a bit scared of what the old man could have cooked up. He clicks a few times on his laptop before squinting and leaning into the screen as if to assure he was looking at the correct thing.

"I've got an email from a Professor...Healy?" Your stomach bottoms out at the sound of his name. "Anywho, he tells me he saw you practicing your presentation and was very impressed," your advisor smiles to himself, "and he says that he'd like to offer you some philosophical theories that may help your presentation do better. Is that something you'd be interested in?"

You swallow hard, mind spinning as you try to decipher what was happening right now.

"Yeah, sure, but I don't know where his office is or-" Professor Cannari is already writing something down on a post it note in his scratchy hand writing. He hands you the neon green paper with Professor Healy's office number on it. Your advisor provides you a warm smile and waves you out of his office.

You hover in the hallway of the office, paper trembling in your hand. Do you go now? Do you go in a few days? Do you go at all? There's nothing inherently bad about going; in fact it will likely be super beneficial to your presentation as a whole. And is that not the whole point of going to grad school? Being able to gather information outside of your discipline to make your research stand out?

Dumbly, you look down at your outfit- a pair of well worn jeans, a simple black cropped tank top overlayed by a gray zip up hoodie. Fuck it. There's no point into deluding yourself into thinking this would be anything more than an office hours meeting. Your feet move before you can second guess yourself.

Before you know it you're crossing the threshold into the philosophy building, wandering dumbly until you find a stairwell to lead you up to the correct floor. You check the number obsessively once you're in the long, eerily empty hallway, and at the very end, wedged into an oddly shaped corner of the building is his office. You can tell he's new just from the lack of decorations on the door and bulletin board just outside of it. Simply just a name tag is displayed underneath the room number. You feel stupid for how fast your heart races as you knock.

It only now occurred to you that you didn't know his office hours, and it was possible he was teaching or not even on campus at all. You almost turn your back to leave as the realization hits you, but the door gently swings open. Professor Healy peeps through the crack in the door, seemingly afraid of what he would see on the other side. When he sees it's you his face softens and the door swings open wider.

"Y/N," he breathes your name and you shiver, eyes falling down to his chest, where the top two buttons of his silky button down shirt are undone. You swallow harshly and force what you hope is a comfortable smile.

"If you aren't busy...I heard you wanted to meet with me?" You try your best to curb the smile creeping onto your face as he gestures you in, hair falling around his face like a halo. His office is everything that you'd expected-even though he was newer to the job, his oak bookshelves are teeming with philosophy texts and a few plants half-dead in their pots. His desk takes center stage as it's surprisingly grand and tidy, the shiny wooden top reflecting the light from overhead in oblong circles. Only one notebook and one stack of what looks like exams exist neatly next to his desktop computer.

"Ah," he clears his throat when he sees you staring, "feel free to sit, I'm afraid it's not the most comfortable chair but the one I want is on backorder." You sit anyway, charmed just by the easy drawl of his voice. He takes his place directly across from you in a cushy, high-backed chair that genuinely looks fit for royalty. Your stomach stirs with arousal when he shakes his curls from his eyes and leans forward, elbows on the desk.

"Can I ask you something?" You shiver, involuntarily shaken by his question. He doesn't wait for you to respond before continuing: "Why do you seem so disinterested in your research?"

You're stunned at how forward he is but a piece of you loosens, suddenly relaxed when you realize the academic front you put up in front of everyone else can be dissolved here.

"I'm just tired of it," you slouch into your chair, matching his soulful gaze. "I've spent the last 5 years of my life researching and refining this presentation and all I ever do is present to people within my field who already know all of this shit, or even are cited in my paper anyway, and it's just so exhausting to say and think all the same things over and over. And what do I get out of this other than a job?" You catch your bottom lip between your teeth, suddenly self conscious at how forthcoming and unprofessional you're being with a professor.

"Sorry, that was a lot. And you clearly liked my stuff enough to contact Cannari and ask to meet with me, so, sorry Professor Healy." You shrug and offer him what you hope will be a soothing smile. He doesn't retreat from his spot but actually leans further toward you and only then do you realize that you had leaned closer to him as well. "You can just call me Matty, please." He offers a sweet smile that makes you agree, and the amount of familiarity just being told to use his first name gives you makes you giddy.

"What..." he swallows, "What do you want? From your life?" You catch a whiff of his cologne with him this close and you can do nothing but scan his face stupidly: eyes flitting between his plush lips and his eyes. Arousal stirs in your stomach the more you stare at him, and you force yourself to look away before you melt into the chair. You start to piece something together in your mind when Professor Healy shakes his head, inhaling sharply.

"It's okay if you don't know, Y/N. I don't know what I want from my life either, even though I have the big fancy job.” He stops, fingers drumming against the top of his desk, just inches away from your body. "But I know what I want right now."

Your stomach lurches with sudden nerves and you’re sure that your face is flushed red as you watch the mesmerizing way his tongue darts across his lower lip, wetting the pink flesh. Surely letting your mind run away to all the nasty places it wants to is going to do nothing to soothe the heat but you can’t find it in you to stop.

“Y/N?” Matty’s voice cuts through the fog in your brain like a knife. Sheepishly you glance back at him and just seems so large that your reply dies in your throat, mouth hung open.

“I asked you a question. Cat got your tongue?” He smiles slyly as he glances down to your mouth and you feel an unbidden rush of arousal in your stomach.

“S-sorry Professor Healy, I- just. Um." His steely gaze cuts you as you slowly realize your mistake. "Matty. What do you want right now? I’m not sure how much help I can actually be, but I can-“

“What I want right now-“ he speaks over you and you still, fingernails digging into the leather arms of your chair. “Is for you to look at me.” He pauses and you realize he means for you to obey him now, so you do. His chocolate brown eyes bore into your own, his intense gaze flicking between your pupils and your lips. Satisfied, he speaks again. “Good. And now I need you to be fully, completely honest with me. I’ll know if you aren’t.” You nod automatically, all thoughts except how purely sexy he looks right now abandoning your brain. A smile splits his face and a surge of joy at making him happy runs through you.

“Are you aware how badly I want you?” His voice thickens and you shiver, the confusion and elation rushing in. There was no way this was real, there had to be someone testing you or playing a trick to expose your most depraved desire.

“You do?” You hate how surprised you sound but who could blame you: the new professor with his bouncy curls and tattooed chest interested in both your research and also apparently you?

Suddenly he’s moving, standing from his grand chair to lean against the desk on your side, just inches from you. He cocks his head and that deadly stare penetrates you as he shamelessly looks you up and down, eyes focused just a second too long on the place where your breasts swell out of your tank top.

“I do.” He nods as if he’d just agreed with your assessment of a news topic, but the way his hands flex on the top of his thighs draws your eyes right to his crotch: the telling bulge of the beginning of a hard on just there. All inhibitions rush out of you at the sight, you calm the shake in your hands and grasp at his own, resting just inches away from his cock.

“Is the door locked?” Your voice is husky but he seems to appreciate it as a breathy exhale passes his lips while he nods. The noise sparks arousal between your thighs, the seam of your jeans teasing your clit just enough to make your head spin a bit when your thighs press together. You stay locked into your chair, sincerely afraid that if you stood your knees would give out, but you trail your fingers up to the waistband of his trousers.

“Is this okay?” His pretty curls crowd around his face as he peers down at you and nods, moving his own hands out of the way to allow you all the room you want. You ignore the way your fingers tremble with the button and unhook it, the sound of the zipper startling in the otherwise silent room.

His cock is straining against his boxers and you can't help the pride that washes over your body.

"Fuck, you're so gorgeous." His voice grits out as you trace your fingers over the outline of his cock, enamored by the heat radiating from his body. His hips jump, pressing further into your touch with impatience.

"Fucking take 'em off." Your eyes flit up to his face, scrunched with concentration as he undoes the buttons on his shirt until it's completely open, torso bared to your hungry eyes. All of his hidden tattoos come to light and you feel yourself salivate. He gives you a pointed look and you spring into action, pulling his boxers down to his thighs. Your breath leaves you as his cock is bared to you, hardening by the second as you take in the sight of him.

"You're fucking huge," the words fall out of your mouth before you can even think about filtering them, but all he does is laugh, smoothing a hand over the crown of your head.

"And you're fucking sinful." The praise goes straight to your head as you cup his cock, immediately tracing the vein along the bottom with your fingertip. The urge to have him in your mouth is insane but you stick with what you've started: the feather light touches across the smoothed, warm skin in addicting patterns until Matty snaps, grasping your wrist.

"I'm glad you're having fun, love, but if you don't start getting to work I'm gonna have to do it myself. And I don't think either of us want that, do we?" Your face blanches at the idea of him leaving, and you shake your head, redoubling your efforts by adding your second hand into the mix. Stroking his cock quickly becomes addicting, as all of his pretty moans and whines bounce off of the walls in his office and you can gaze up at him despite the hand in your hair to see the way his neck flexes as you pleasure him. His cock twitches and swells in your hand and a fresh wave of arousal sticks to your underwear, making you drive a hand between your legs in a desperate attempt for some relief. Matty's hand in your hair tightens as he sees you make this move and he tuts.

"Off of it, now, pretty girl." Matty's voice shakes as he extracts himself from your touch. You whine at the loss of his cock but soon your line of sight is full of his handsome face. Matty has crouched right in front of you, lips bitten raw from his efforts of trying not to cum. You feel your eyes soften at how pretty he looks with rosy cheeks and you lean forward on pure instinct, seeking the press of his lips on your own. Matty catches on easily and matches your eagerness by capturing your lips ferociously; tasting faintly like minty gum and coffee and you moan at this fantasy come to life. You cling to his bare shoulders like your life depends on it, fingernails digging into the planes of his back as he licks between your lips, tongue dancing around your mouth as he steals your breath.

Matty nips at your bottom lip, and then one of his hands is diving between your thighs to press up against the heat at the seam of your jeans. You gasp out a moan at the feeling of finally being touched even if through the thick barrier of denim.

"Fucking soaking your jeans, love," Matty growls against your lips, his dextrous thumb pressed directly over your clit. You squirm in the chair, chest heaving as your nerve endings light up, feeling so hot that you could crawl out of your skin.

"F-fuck, Matty." You take matters into your own hands and strip yourself of your sweatshirt. He chuckles darkly, eyes darting up from between your legs as he licks his lips sinfully.

"Feeling a little hot there? Should I take these jeans off of you and help you cool down?" His fingers are already at the button but you keen and agree with a vicious nod. The brief touch of his fingers against your stomach makes you whimper, impatient beyond belief for him to rid you of the restrictive denim.

"I've got you, don't worry, 'm right here." Matty soothes you as he shimmies your jeans off. He places a gentle kiss against the inside of one knee, then the other, and you feel anticipation bubble in your stomach as he digs his thumbs into the flesh of your thighs, dragging them apart. His eyes widen at the visible confirmation of your wetness slicking your underwear in a dark stain.

"Please," you find yourself begging already even though Matty shows no sign of slowing down as he rids you of your underwear as well. Already kneeling, Matty simply leans forward until he's mere inches away from your pussy. The ends of his strands of hair tickle the tops of your thighs and goosebumps erupt. Matty parts your thighs until your knees are hooked over the arms of the chair and you remain fully exposed to him.

"Look at that..." his fingers trail your inner thighs and your body twitches. "Prettiest pussy on the prettiest little slut I've ever seen." He eyes you carefully to catch your reaction to the nickname and you feel your whole body glow at the filthy words. Matty grins before swiftly returning his thumb to your clit, this time bare. The shock of his sudden touch sends you spiraling toward pleasure, mind blanking of all coherent thought as he draws tight circles around the bud. You grasp onto his hair for an anchor as he doubles down, pushing his face between your thighs. His nose bumps against your clit and his tongue parts your lips, lapping up the wetness with a pattern you can't figure out how to track. His stubble scratches the inside of your thighs as he laps at you, flitting his tongue between your folds. Your hips buck forward and your legs clamp around his head, desperate to be sure that he wouldn't go anywhere. Matty chuckles against your pussy and you can feel it radiating through you. You shiver, stomach contracting as you pull his hair so hard you feel like you might take some of it out.

An oncoming train of pleasure barrels towards you as Matty returns his lips to your clit, sucking ferverntly until you cry, warning him that you're coming. Your mind soars as you come, surely soaking his face as he makes no attempt to slow down or pull back as your hips stutter against his face.

Tears collect at your chin as your body settles, overwhelmed and satisfied. Matty resurfaces, chin and lips soaked with the sheen of your release. He licks his lips as he sees you refocus onto the real world. Matty helps to ease your legs down from the arms of the chair and the simple intimacy makes you dizzy with glee.

"You taste so good, by the way," Matty drones as his eyes sparkle with mischief. He stands, cock bobbing along with his movements and your pussy throbs in spite of the fact that you literally just came moments before. You can't tear your eyes away from it, the reddened head leaking translucent rivulets of precum. Images of his cock pulsing while he ate you out invade your mind and you whine, launching yourself off of the chair with the need to be closer to him.

Matty chuckles as you latch yourself around him, pressing your body into the heat of him, feeling the press of his cock against your stomach. Your forehead sticks to his chest with the perspiration and you're slightly surprised that Matty places a kiss to the top of your head, crossing his arms around you and massaging your lower back in big soothing circles.

"Are you done for the day? All worn out?" His voice is soft and gentle despite the way his cock stirs as his hands drift to your ass, gently massaging the flesh there.

"You're too sweet," you lift your head until your chin is resting on his chest, looking up at his flushed face. The softness of his eyes makes your insides liquify. "Thought you'd be some big, scary, dominant professor..." you distract him with your words as you slip a hand between the two of you to brush the head of his cock. Matty groans, squeezing your ass harder at the confirmation that you certainly were not done for the day.

"Well I am quite big, as you said before, and as far as scary and dominant..." a sly grin splits his face and before you can deliver a new quip he's maneuvering you until you're bent over the glossy top of his massive desk. It's cold even through the fabric of your cropped tank top that you still had on, and your nipples pebble immediately. You can't see Matty so you still and try to focus your ears to hear any signs of what he was up to.

Matty's fingers ghost over your ass again, tracing over the curve that connects it to your thighs. Shivers wrack down your spine as you anticipate his next touch.

"You'd like me to be more dominant? Harder on you?" Matty's voice ghosts over the shell of your ear and you whine, hips squirming as you feel him pressed up against your back. "Need to be put in your place by a fucking professor at your school?" You nod vigorously, arousal making you pliant to his whispers.

His body heat leaves you and you whine, begging for him not to go.

"Fuck, needy little slut, huh? I'm not going anywhere, don't worry. Can't quit this pussy and I haven't even been in it." His voice has thickened even more than you thought possible and its enough to make you spread your legs, exposing your pussy to the cold air and his hungry eyes.

You're going crazy not being able to see him, so you lift your head and turn toward him. His face tightens when he sees you, and with no reluctance he rears back his hand and smacks one of your ass cheeks. The shock makes you still and silent, followed quickly by a body wide tingle of arousal that has a long loud moan falling from your lips.

"I didn't fucking ask you to move, did I? All you've got to do is lay there and take it and you can't even do that." He tuts but at the same time soothes the pads of his calloused fingers over the handprint he left behind.

"S-sorry, I just wanted to see you." The words come out choppy and stunted as you feel his hand leave you, anticipating another slap.

"Take this like a good girl and then you can see me all you want, okay?" Just moments after your agreement slips into the air Matty is landing twin spanks on each cheek, harder than the first. Your body reacts astronomically, your body heat soaring as you wiggle against the desk, surely leaking onto the pristine wood.

Matty praises you even as you wiggle, admiring the movement of your ass while you try to chase the friction you're looking for. Your legs spread wider as you hear him mutter curses under his breath.

"Please, Matty, please-Ineedyouttodomore, please," you feel like your brain is running away from you, maybe it was back in the entrance to the philosophy building, waiting for you to pick it back up when you're done. Emboldened by your begging, Matty spanks each of your cheeks again in a new spot, sure to cover your whole ass in his hand prints.

Matty shushes you, petting over the surely reddened marks on your ass-your newest and most prized possessions. "You've done so lovely for me, enjoying letting me spank your cute little ass." Matty sounds slightly farther away but you pay it no mind as your body goes onto pleasure autopilot. Your clit throbs, eyes glassy and unfocused as you listen to the whispered affirmations falling from Matty's lips.

"Hey, pretty girl." His voice is suddenly very close, and you finally realize that he's rounded the desk to be next to your head. He's crouched down to your level again, one hand pushing sweaty strands of hair away from your temple. You feel lucky just to be seeing his face this close.

"There you are." He smiles and the skin around his eyes crinkles charmingly. His demeanor shifts back rapidly when he sees your clarity come back. "Need you to listen to me now, love. I'm going to sit down and take a break, and you're going to come get yourself off on my cock." Your heart thrums at the idea of finally having him inside of you, and the excitement has you launching off of the desk as soon as Matty has planted himself into the grand chair. His entire body is flushed with exertion and covered in a sheen of sweat that you wanted to lick off. Matty spreads his legs in invitation, arms placed on the arm rests as if he was just lounging. His cock is incredibly hard and red, and you can only imagine how wound up he is from not having come a single time since you began.

You finally right yourself and get off of the desk, immediately taking your place in Matty's lap. Your pussy immediately makes contact with his cock and you both moan at the simple touch. The wetness between your legs soaks him completely as you take an experimental rock over him. Matty's hands clasp onto your tank top and in a moment the top is finally gone, tits spilling out of your bra as you rock against him, breathless and keening.

Matty pulls down the cups of the bra to expose your tits and he groans at the sight, hungrily grabbing the newly revealed flesh. His eyes roll back into his head and he growls at the onslaught of sensations.

"Fuck, put me cock in you or you're going back onto the desk." His voice is strained and you have to hold back a laugh at his desperation but you obey, grabbing his cock to line yourself up. The intrusion is slow despite how wet you are as his cock stretches you to be completely full. Matty devours your tits as you sink onto him, licking and biting the sensitive flesh and muffling his moans into your skin until you're fully seated on him. You feel dizzy and lightheaded at finally being full, the pressure inside of you phenomenally perfect.

Your head lulls into Matty's shoulder and you squeeze your eyes shut as you begin small movements against him, grinding your hips the smallest amount as your body adjusts. You bite into Matty's shoulder to ground yourself and he moans, head falling back against the chair and his hair tickling your cheek. He presses a kiss to your temple as you lick the bite you left on him.

Matty's hands leave your tits to clasp at your hips, guiding you along in the rhythm he desires. Your thighs burn but the pleasure outweighs the discomfort as Matty builds a faster tempo, bouncing you on his cock.

"You've got a perfect pussy, love, holding onto me so tight, yeah?" Your walls flutter at his words and he moans throatily, bucking his hips into you in deeper strokes. Eyes shuttering closed, you relish in the pleasure you had stumbled into as Matty smacks your ass again, spurring your hips back into action as you move against him with renewed energy as pleasure sparks through your limbs.

"Open your eyes, love, you wanted to see me so bad and you got your eyes closed anyway." You struggle to get them opened again while your veins flood with pleasure but you manage it, zeroing in on the satisfied look on Matty's face. He moans as you bite your lip and bear down on him harder, feeling the twitch of his cock inside of you that spurs you on further.

"You're gonna make me fucking cum, shit, you feel so god damn good." Matty groans and strums his thumb over your sensitive clit. "I'm about to fucking fill you,such a good girl coming with me, yeah? Need you to come with me, love." Your eyes roll at his words and you feel your high just seconds away, squealing as pleasure makes your toes curl and you finally come, exploding on his cock, walls pulsing. Matty is close behind, curses and moans of your name spilling rapidly as he comes, filling you until cum is leaking back out around him. Your stomach clenches in an effort to keep it all in as your body sags into his, exhausted and sweaty.

"That was fucking perfect, good girl. You did so fucking well riding my cock." Matty kisses over every inch of your face he can reach with you attached to his neck. A weak thank you leaves you as your mind catches up slowly. Your sweat dries and you shiver, pressing further into his body heat and whining when his cock dislodges and more cum rushes out of you.

You groan at the mess in his lap, suddenly embarrassed in the aftermath. Detaching from him, your head starts to pound when you realize where you are, who you are, who he is...

"Stop that," his hands are on your cheeks, thumbs running over the apples in a steady stroke. "You're okay. I'm not going anywhere just yet." The earnest tone of his voice soothes some of the panic, but you're still teetering on uncertain territory.

"I just, I need to process this, I think. Like who we are, and what just happened and-" more cum leaks from you and you grimace. "And...that." You feel small and defeated, emotions running all over the place. Surprisingly astute to your feelings, Matty begins a low, melodic hum that settles your heart rate. Its a song you don't know but it calms you enough that your mind slows as Matty carefully extradites you from his lap and digs out a bottle of ibuprofen and water to take it with. When your head stops pounding he smiles at you, annoying charming, and you suddenly remember how you even ended up here.

Matty had replaced his boxers and brings you your scattered clothes before he sits himself on the floor in front of you. You avoid his gaze, still feeling slightly awkward and unreal as his choclately eyes examine you while you redress.

"Look at me, please." The edge in his voice is commanding and your stomach stirs with arousal again but you tamp it down. "This doesn't have to be anything else than this. I admit that some of this wasn't our best judgment...but I do genuinely really like you. And I do want to help you with your research. And like, take you on a normal date or something." His cheeks flush and its aggressively endearing to see him get flustered. You can't help the giggle that escapes you.

"Actually help me with my research? Because that's what this was supposed to be too." Your giggles break the tension and Matty rolls his eyes and crowds back onto the chair, pulling you into his lap as he bats at you playfully.

"Fine, maybe next time I'll refrain from fucking you in my office." You pout playfully in spite of yourself, enjoying the good natured sparkle in his eyes. "I said maybe, woman. You'll have me as much as you want me."

[whltlock]

CHAPTER 3/10 ★ Masterlist ★ Subscribe on AO3

Pairing: Jason Todd/AFAB!NB Reader, Minor Wally West/Reader

Summary: You and Jason become more comfortable with each other. It starts to feel just like old times.

Tags: vague soulmates au, jason has temporary amnesia, Jason/Reader Endgame, Fluff and Angst, post-resurrection, Sexual Content, Happy Ending, Past Relationship.

WC: 2,251

Just like a cat, Jason headbutts you in greeting. He shuffles into the room, clearly sleep-deprived, but still wanting to show you affection. It’s simple, but it makes you giddy.

He stands beside you as he makes his tea. You press your nose to his bicep and think goddamn, because he’s built supremely different these days. He nudges you back. It’s all the invitation you need to wrap your arms around him. He tuts as you almost spill his drink, but then he chuckles. He abandons it to hug you.

You sigh against him, inhaling everything he is. He strokes your hair.

Jason angles your chin up so he can look at you. “You good?” he murmurs. You nod, falling into the cradle his hand makes. It puts an abashed smile on his face. The intimacy is both strange and everything he craves.

“Just as sweet as the last time I saw you, huh?” he muses.

You swallow. You wonder how long he thinks it’s been. It’s a devastating thought. It reminds you that things have changed. You’re not together anymore.

You try to keep the despair from your face as you shrug. “If you say so.”

His lips brush your temple. “I do.”

It makes you feel equal parts guilty and hot. You dismiss it with, “Hey, Jason?”

“Yeah?”

“Do me a favour, will you? Try to take a shower today. You’re starting to smell like the alley I picked you up in.”

He snorts. “You’re not as cute now.”

When you return later that day, Jason’s cleaned himself up. He’s shaved and showered and attacked some of his hair. He looks much better than before and you stop to drink him in.

His head tilts up from where he sits on the couch. “Happy?” he asks with a hint of a smirk.

He smells good, you think, as you join him. “Very,” you say.

He holds out the bowl of popcorn he has on his lap. You grab a handful.

You eye what’s on the television. You recognise the actors but not the movie. However, Jason’s interest in it seems to dwindle with your appearance. Instead, his curiosity moves elsewhere. “Did we live together?”

Your head turns. There’s a beat before you reply. “Only in the tower. I live here alone.”

He nods as he mulls that.

You resist the urge to run your palm over his arm in what used to be a comfort to the both of you. “Did you do anything else today?” you ask attentively.

His head tips. “Made your bed. Cleaned out your fridge. You know you had liquid rot in there?”

“Still a neat freak, I see.”

“One of us has to be.”

A wry smile slides onto his face and you subconsciously copy it. It’s a lure and he shifts a little closer, as if it’s important information he needs to memorise. You look back at the TV when you realise. It fills you to the brim with a cocktail of feelings.

You sit in silence for the next hour, munching on popcorn as the movie plays. You hardly pay attention though. Really, you listen to how Jason breathes. You count the beats; confirm he’s okay. You know from the side-eye he gives you every so often that he’s doing the same.

It’s strange. So many things that could be said and yet you can’t. It’s fragile. It’s tempting.

Clearly too tempting of a situation for Jason to ignore. He fidgets uncomfortably, moving upright. “Can you, uh…” he starts and fumbles immediately. It’s an embarrassing ask. You don’t look his way so he can rephrase. “I can’t remember the first time we said ‘I love you.’”

It pains him dearly that he’s unable to recall it. He knows he loves you. He wants to say it every time you pass him a cup or put his blanket in the dryer before bed. When you look at him like he’s just made your entire week by stepping into the room. He loves you after death. After reanimation. Even when all the wires in his brain are crossed.

Jason winces. “We were there, right?”

“Yeah, Jay,” you say, hushed and sorrowful. “We were in love.”

The plea he projects is impossible to resist, so you meet his gaze. His eyes have taken on a slight sheen as he works around his next request. You fall into the waves breathlessly. Rolling beneath them hurts but there’s exhilaration there, too.

He wets his lips. “Tell me?”

You swallow as you catch the action. “It was after a mission. You got hurt and I was pissed at you for being an idiot.” You shake your head with a rueful half-smile. “You said it to shut me up, I think.”

He knees you in objection. You try not to smile wider.

“You did. You just wanted a reaction.”

“Now why would I ever want a pretty one like you to shut up?” He lays an arm behind your head. “Sure doesn’t sound like me.”

You laugh even though you don’t want to. It puts a smile on his face. You craftily dodge as he leans forward to lay a kiss on your shoulder.

He wants to say it, see you bashful, hear it back, feel the flutters in his chest. But he holds onto it for now.

FULL CHAPTER ON AO3

[wrestlezaynia]

10. You don't know what you do to me

Subtle suggestive smut prompts.

"Embrassé sous la Pluie."

Warning: Strong sexual content. Do not read if you’re under 18.

"Psst." A voice calls to Sami from the shadows, beckoning him over. He draws near, recognizing who it is straight away. "Kev?" He asks.

"I got suspended for punching Waller and Theory in the face." Kevin explains, emerging from his hiding place when the coast is clear. "I didn't have my soulmate by my side to keep me in check." He adds with a flirtatious smile. "What are you doing later, want to catch up?"

A blush invades Sami's cheeks as red as his hair, which Kevin is now running his fingers through, making it difficult to concentrate. "I'd love to." He replies, having been deprived of his touch for far too long.

When Kevin arrives to pick up Sami, the sun is beginning to set. The pair decide to take a moonlit stroll down the beach, hand in hand, while Kevin listens to Sami ramble. His prattling comes to an abrupt halt, however, when the loud crack of thunder erupts overhead. The forecast didn't call for rain, the sky had been clear up until that point as the two men lock eyes, still holding hands.

A gust of wind blows through Sami's flowing crimson locks, causing Kevin's heart to skip a beat. He always teased Sami about getting a haircut, but the fact of the matter is he's secretly fond of his long tresses. He loves combing his fingers through it, among other things.

What started off as a light drizzle transforms into heavy rainfall as Kevin gives Sami's hand a firm tug, pulling him into his arms. Their eyes connecting briefly before Kevin captures his lips in a tender kiss.

A cold shiver runs down Sami's spine at the sudden drop in temperature, but Kevin's embrace provides a source of warmth and comfort as he kisses back, cradling Kevin's face gently in his hands.

The kiss eventually breaks, leaving them gasping for air. Kevin can feel Sami shaking, prompting him to seek shelter as they make a dash back to the car, giggling as they run. The laughter ceases, however, as soon as they reach the vehicle. After opening the door, their eyes meet once more as Kevin leans in close, brushing his lips against Sami's with fervor as they climb into the backseat. Their tongues eagerly exploring each other's mouths after months of being apart.

Their lips part momentarily while Kevin removes he and Sami's wet shirts, hanging the respective garments over the front and passenger seats in order to dry before focusing his attention back on Sami. Kissing him soft and deep, their bare chests pressed flush together.

Sami is on cloud nine that is, until, his breathing becomes strained. Kevin had literally taken his breath away as he squirms beneath him.

Feeling Sami's body writhe, Kevin immediately breaks the kiss, fearing for his partners safety as he stares at Sami with concern in his eyes. "You okay?" He asks, breathless, pressing their foreheads together.

Sami nods, panting heavily. "Yeah, it's been a while." He explains, admiring how much softer Kevin has become throughout the years.

Kevin breathes a sigh of relief, if anything were to happen to Sami he'd never be able to forgive himself. "We'll take it slow." He replies softly, brushing Sami's damp ginger curls out of his face and tucking them gently behind his ear. "Let me know if you want me to stop."

Sami nods again, when in reality he never wants Kevin to stop. He wants him to make sweet, passionate love to him until the sun comes up like they did when they were young and didn't believe in true love. Before they knew what a "soulmate" actually was. His heart beating faster as he watches Kevin wriggle out of his pants and hang them alongside his shirt. His gaze meeting Sami's as he helps unzip his own pants, fingers skimming over his thighs, giving him goosebumps.

Kevin memorized every curve, every inch of Sami's body, knowing exactly where to touch to stimulate his partner and leave him begging for more. His neck being the most sensitive as he leaves a trail of soft feathery kisses down to his collarbone, taking delight in the soft whimpers spilling from Sami's lips. "Kevin." He gasps, his voice thick with lust. "Je suis prêt." He murmurs breathlessly, his head spinning.

Hearing the desperation in Sami's voice combined with the breathy way he says his name leaving him rock-hard as he obeys Sami's command, gradually easing his way inside. He watches Sami intently as he starts to thrust, his face contorting with pleasure as a satisfied moan rings out, piercing the silence. "You don't know what you do to me." Kevin breathes, trying desperately to hold on, but it's been ages.

"I have a pretty good idea." Sami quips, waggling his eyebrows playfully. "I love you, Kev." He whispers softly, cupping his cheek.

"Je t’aime aussi, Sami." Kevin whispers back, holding him close as he picks up the pace, making the car rock back and forth. "Gonna cum, cum with me!" He cries out, burying his face in the crook of Sami's neck as he finds his release, spurting his warm seed deep inside Sami.

Sami isn't far behind, shuddering as his orgasm washes over him. Fingers delicately caressing the small of Kevin's back as they cling to one another, breathing heavily. With their clothes still damp, they settle on wrapping a blanket around them in order to stay warm. "Twenty years later and you still rock my world." Sami remarks, staring up at Kevin with adoration, a gleam emerging in his honey eyes.

Kevin smirks in response, typically he'd let the compliment go to his head but he isn't that guy anymore. "All it takes is a kiss to the neck and you're purring like a kitten." He says, reminiscing back to their first sexual encounter where he was made aware of this revelation.

A knowing smile graces Sami's lips, he couldn't believe Kevin remembered. He was so young and inexperienced. Kevin was so kind and gentle, a side he never knew existed. "Those lips are magic." He replies in a hushed whisper, his gaze drifting to his mouth. "Abracadabra! Sami melts like a stick of butter. Hocus-pocus, presto-"

His sentence cut short by Kevin's finger. "For my next trick: Making the redheaded chatterbox stop talking." He quips, pressing his lips softly but firmly against a giggling Sami's, their souls forever intertwined.

A/N: Thanks for the request, there's more where that came from!

Tagging: @loki69zowens, @kayfabebabe, @wrestlingdespairings, @racerchix21, @unintentionaloracle, @low-x-battery, @stardust181, @coloursflyaway, @riveliciousx, @manon-omega, @kevinsteen, @pikapuff-316, @kristalynn94, @existwithpride, @eleanor24, @go-beatrizaf-blog, @anothersabah and @himbos-hotline. If you'd like to be added to my tag list, LMK. Thank you for reading, as always! 😊

[oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat]

Polaris

Logan, my boy. He needs a f*cking hug.

Pairing: platonic Wrathloceit Trigger/Content Warning: self-deprecation, suicidal thoughts & ideation, emetophobia (no actual vomit), sleep deprivation

Description: Logan is ignored, yet again, and the only one who checks on him is an unseen character. And perhaps a certain slithering truth-seeker as well.

Extra: this is a pairing of Logan, Janus, and Orange. Idk if there's already a name for it, so I'm just gonna call it Wrathloceit for now. This features my headcanon that Logan does feel things very deeply, but since he actively hides it or doesn't let most of it show (besides a few moments here and there), that it all manifests physically. It would make him sick, I think, to be constantly ignored like he is. All those icky feelings he swears he doesn't have? They all become physical and not in a good way.

[Masterlist] | ao3 link

[Read below the cut]

Once again, the core four Sides had a meeting to reason through another dilemma. To ease Thomas' worries. To sort out the best possible solution.

And once again, literal Logic was ignored and tossed aside like an old ragdoll.

Logan wasn't surprised. He won't let himself be. It's happened so many times before, it shouldn't be a surprise. He expected the probability of being disregarded again. A 30% chance of being listened to, a 70% chance of being glossed over. The majority always won, it seemed. He knew that.

So then why did he sit at his desk, head in his hands, thinking he should've just been louder?

If I am louder, will I be heard then? Would they finally heed my words? Would it make a difference?

No, maybe it wouldn't. Why would it ever make a difference, his volume levels? The decibels he spoke at? He stared at the work in front of him, sorted in piles and stacks. Charts, diagrams, schedules. A few footnotes of references. Cited papers. It all felt like a waste. He felt like a waste.

Or if I used better communicators? Referenced more slang to appeal to their interests? But I'm not that creative. I'm not one to actively make obvious puns. I'm not like them.

The truth hurt his chest. It burned his lungs. A self-pitiful fire licked at his brain, at his gut. He felt a twinge of nausea. He was never made to be like them. They all had a common understanding of something. Logan didn't.

If I'm not like them, perhaps I'm not worth being listened to. Perhaps talking is too much already.

Vague memories played in his mind. Memories of Roman calling him annoying, of Patton telling him to stop, of Virgil saying that he needed to listen. To listen to them, not him. Never him.

Will they ever hear me? Will they ever listen?

He doubted they would. That anyone would. Not even Janus or Remus, nor the elusive seventh Side. Why would they? Logan tried to rebut and 'throw a wrench' in Janus' plans. Remus was fighting with him to be listened to as well, and the eldritch devil was practically desperate. And Orange... Logan didn't know much about him, only that he had influence over repressed anger. Wrath and Jealousy. Dramatic outbursts.

Logan winced at the memory of his outburst at Remus.

I'm not worth it. This isn't worth it. They don't want me there. They did fine without me when Janus took my place. They don't need me there.

Literal Logic was unneeded, at least in his mind. Logan felt so isolated by the others. They rather him silenced than to hear his facts or research points. He missed back when Virgil and him had that debate. Back when Roman and him would geek out over specifics of video ideas, of how it would all work together. Back when Patton and him weren't so at odds, weren't seemingly polar opposites. When light blue wasn't as different as indigo.

But those times were gone, and they weren't coming back.

Perhaps I can succeed where Virgil failed. I'll be okay then. The others would be better off-

A sudden hand on his shoulder jolted him from his thoughts, and he slightly flinched. He looked over to his right, head now out of his hands. A yellow glove. Reptilian scales. Yellow.

Janus?

Janus stood beside him, with a gloved hand on his shoulder, wearing naked concern and worry on his face. He looked distressed. Despite that, he calmly set a cup of tea on Logan's desk. Warm steam came from it. It smelled of lavender and chamomile, the tiniest hint of sweet honey.

Logan was utterly confused. Why was Janus there? He hadn't thought a single lie. None of it was a falsehood. Nothing was so deceitful that he needed to be summoned.

"Tea is relaxing, and it is 2am," Janus spoke softly, in such a vulnerable way that it sounded caring.

Janus was caring, that's true. But caring towards Logan? He shouldn't be. No one was, no one would, no one should. It was an unspoken rule amongst the Sides, surely. Why else would they ignore his input?

Logan glanced at the clock on his wall. It was 2am, ticking closer to 2:30.

When did it get so late? The meeting was in the earlier afternoon. I haven't been in my room for that long, right?

If he'd been in his room for so long, then...

Then the others truly don't care for me. I knew it. Of course, they don't. Why would anyone?

But Janus was there.

Why is Janus here?

"Oh, sweetie. I know, it's going to be alright. The others are just assholes."

He thumbed away tears that fell down Logan's face, a hand now cupping his face instead of resting on his shoulder. Logan was facing opposite of his desk. Facing Janus, who knelt slightly to level with him. The smell of chamomile was still strong and drifting behind him.

Wait, tears? When did I start crying? I'm fine, I shouldn't be crying. Logic shouldn't cry. My function shouldn't be emotional. It isn't- it...

"Hey, focus on me. Don't drift over into your head again, okay?"

He was so gentle. His glove was soft against Logan's face. Warm. He leaned into the gesture, releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding. That is, before realizing and tensing up.

"Indigo, you'll be fine. You're safe with Yellow and I," another voice, uncharacteristically quiet and careful, echoed through the room.

Wait, who...?

Logan gave a questioning glance at Janus, causing him to give a comforting smile.

"It's just Orange, sweetie. Who insists on calling everyone by their colour," Janus glared playfully to the side, presumably where Orange stood.

"What? It's not like I'm calling names. I'm not f*cking Red-"

"Okay, I get it. Roman is a b*tch, we know."

Janus rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to Logan. His hand left the nerd's face, and he stood straight up. Orange eyes peeled out from the darker corners of the room, and out stepped the elusive arsonist.

Why would Orange be here? To cause another outburst? Make me more hated than I already am?

Logan's thoughts felt bitter, angry- upset. His eyes reflected that same hurt. Orange's eyes flashed for a second, and he gave a sympathetic look.

"You're not hated, you know. The others are f*cking brats, but they don't hate you. Especially not for showing emotion."

Logan raised a confused eyebrow. Orange shrugged.

"Green can hear icky, greenish thoughts. I can hear the angry and jealous ones. I'm sure Yellow can hear when you think a lie."

Janus nodded to confirm Orange's statement.

But I haven't thought a lie?

Janus frowned once he heard the echoing lie. Thoughts echoed, spoken words vibrated. It was weird, but that's how they sounded. The thing that bothered him was how sure Logan was. How much he believed what he thought. It made his heart sink as he recalled what exact thought had made him race over. Only to find a lost-looking Logic, a beautiful mind stuck in a self-deprecating loop.

'The others would be better off-' replayed in his mind. He knew the last part of what that thought would be.

'-without me.'

Janus wouldn't let him think that. And it seemed neither would Orange.

"Sweetie, you've been lying to yourself. You know you're important, right? And loved and wanted?"

Logan looked away from them both.

"Indie, you are. No one else can be you. All those greenish thoughts are lies, okay?"

Orange scanned his eyes for any budge, any sign he believed their words. There was none. He sighed as Logan crossed his arms stubbornly. How could they convince him?

Orange's eyes lit up as an idea sparked like a small flame in his head.

"You know how people always look up to the Northern Star? What was it called...?"

"Polaris?" Logan's first word since the meeting earlier that day.

His voice was soft and hoarse. He hadn't used it for a while. He was used to being cut off, anyway. His eyes sparkled with interest at the mention of a star.

"Yes, you're right. People love to stargaze and look for Polaris. It's a common activity," Janus picked up on the idea.

"Isn't it used for star maps? For sailors to find their way home? A guide, perhaps?"

"Yes, Polaris is often sought out as a landmark." Logan spoke again, his arms relaxing and becoming uncrossed.

Janus hummed, small smirk on his face.

"Then you are Polaris, Logan. We need you to guide us. You bring us back when we stray from the point," the cobra whispered gently.

"You're our landmark in the night sky, Indigo. Only you can do that," Orange out a hand on his fellow Side's shoulder, rubbing in a soothing way.

"I'm- But anyone could-"

"Hey, none of that. They aren't Logic, are they? That's you. And we love you for it."

Logan looked at Janus and Orange in utter disbelief, tears gathering again in his eyes.

"Indie, we love you. We're your friends, okay? No matter how little you may know me, I still care. We both will always care."

The logical Side opened his mouth to speak, but nothing but a wounded sound came out. A whimper. A whine. Tears rolled down his face.

"Oh, sweetie. I know it's hard right now, but we're here. If no one else, we are."

Logan shook his head vigorously, struggling to wrap his head around the truth. Everything as of recent was catching up with him. It made him feel nauseous to think of it as the truth. Guilt flooded his very bones. He wanted to believe them. He wanted to so badly. But he didn't deserve that.

I don't deserve this, I don't-

"Woah, hey. Logan, look at me. You're looking a little pale," Janus cupped his hands on Logan's face, examining him.

He looked pale, and possibly almost sickly. It was a little scary. Janus and Orange shared a brief glance of worry. His skin felt clammy and sticky. Sweaty. Like he was about to-

Logan's eyes slightly widened as the nausea crept up his throat. He swallowed harshly, not wanting to vomit. The very thought of throwing up sent spikes of fear throughout his body. His friends- he'd soon realize that they were his friends- watched him carefully.

Why do I feel like this right now, of all times? What... guilty? Sick? I feel like tearing my insides out.

He whimpered, wrapping his arms around his stomach. He leaned forward absentmindedly, resting his forehead on Janus' shoulder. Orange let go of him as he realized how nauseous he felt. He couldn't handle vomit either, it seemed. He scrunched his nose up at the idea.

Huh. Something in common with someone else, then? Interesting.

Janus embraced Logan, wrapping one arm around the nerd's shoulders to keep him steady against him. The back of a now-gloveless hand on his forehead. He hummed, thinking. He brought out another pair of arms, carding a hand through the sickly Side's hair. It distracted him, at least. Kept him from spiralling because of the nausea. A fourth hand summoned a thermometer, the kind that scanned temperature on your forehead.

Orange watched silently as Janus did what he knew to take care of Logan. Orange couldn't do much, anyway. Him and Logan shared the same fear. Vomit was disgusting.

"Feeling ill, sweetie?"

Logan nodded lightly, not wanting to move much. He melted in Janus' touch as he continued to card a hand through his hair. He didn't cry anymore. By then, he was far too tired and distracted to cry.

Janus retracted his hand from the nerd's forehead, replacing it with the thermometer. He snapped his fingers, and now the bare hand had a glove once again. After the device beeped and he took Logan's temperature, he carefully placed a kiss on the top of his head. He frowned as the thermometer proved Logan had a bit of a fever. He'd summoned away the device and sighed. All of the emotional turmoil swirling in his head literally made him sick. All the worrying and self-doubt, especially paired with not sleeping well. It was edging closer to 4am by now. Janus wasn't sure how Logan had managed to make himself this sick, but being constantly ignored clearly affected him.

Orange watched as Logan's eyes drooped in Janus' arms. He looked so f*cking exhausted. It worried him. How did he even make himself so sick? How come the others haven't noticed? Besides maybe Remus. He idly wondered why Green wasn't there right now, what with all those icky thoughts plaguing Logan. It didn't matter, though. Green would probably come by later, anyway. He cared for Logan as much as they did. How he wasn't already summoned was a mystery for another time.

Indigo needed help. He needed love. A reminder of his importance. Asking him how he felt so deeply about this wasn't a smart idea right now. Indigo felt a lot more than he liked to admit.

Neither asked about how it affected him in such a physical way. Logan's health was more important. He needed rest.

Janus hugged Logan with two arms now, a hand still carding through his hair. A fourth and final hand rubbed soothing circles on his back. The cobra placed another kiss to Logan's head, taking note of how he melted further into the affection.

"Orange, could you go fetch some of Remus' nausea tablets?"

Why would Remus have nausea medicine? Logan idly wondered.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll be back, Indie," Orange whispered a farewell softly to Logan.

Orange walked into the room's shadows, vanishing with a slight whoosh. Janus stayed, knowing Logan shouldn't be alone. Not when he felt so low and sick.

"It's not going to taste well, so maybe the tea will be of use."

Tea? The tea... oh. I forgot about that.

Logan felt shame heat his cheeks as he remembered the tea from earlier. It wasn't hot anymore, maybe a little warm. The smell of chamomile drifted into his senses. It was calming, at least. How did he forget about such an aroma? Losing yourself in your head does that, he guessed.

Janus noticed his embarrassment.

"It's alright, sweetie. I think we all forgot about it."

It wasn't much, but it eased Logan's shame. His face calmed down, now only a little pink instead of red.

Orange returned, walking out from the shadows yet again. He held a little tablet in his hand. He gave it to Logan, who held out a hand to take it.

"It's dissolvable. Put it under your tongue, and it should work," Orange explained.

Logan hummed, putting the tablet in his mouth as he was told. Just as Janus mentioned, it tasted awful. It made him want to throw up; the taste of rotten cherries didn't agree with him. He scrunched his face up as it dissolved.

Orange glanced at the forgotten tea, picking it up and cupping his hands around it. A vibrant flash in his eyes, and now the tea was steaming warm again. Hopefully not too hot for Logan to drink it.

"Here ya go, Indigo," Orange passed the tea over to Logan.

The nerd removed his other arm from his stomach, carefully taking the cup of tea. The smell was calming and relaxing, and certainly stronger now that it'd been heated up. The cup wasn't too hot; it didn't burn his hands. He took a cautious sip, sighing in relief at the soothing warmth sliding down his throat. It didn't hurt, so Orange must've done a good enough job at not boiling it.

After he drank most of it, the cup got set back on his desk. He'd forgotten about his work, the piles of charts and papers. He whined at it, not feeling up to work but hating how there was still work to be done. The other two notice, and Janus carefully lifted him up and away from his desk. He almost squeaked, not expecting to suddenly be in the air. Janus summoned one last pair of arms, using all six to hold and carry Logan. He slightly smiled as he felt the logical Side snuggle his face in the crook of his neck.

"Time for bed," Janus said before Logan couldn't even think of protesting.

Orange chuckled as Logan groaned in annoyance.

But the others- they need work done, don't they? Isn't that why I'm here, to produce results?

"Hey, you aren't all work, Logan. That's not your entire purpose," Janus calmly reminded him, hearing of the familiar lie of 'I am only valuable when I can produce something'.

Logan hummed as he was set down in the middle of his own bed. The pillows were comfy, and his space-themed blankets were so soft. He nearly passed out once his head hit his bed. He was still in his day clothes though, and it wouldn't be very comfortable to wake up in those. But he had no energy to snap himself into pajamas, or even his onesie.

Luckily, Orange caught on and snapped Logan into his signature unicorn onesie. It was blue and white, and so f*cking cozy. Logan melted into its familiar comfort, way too tired to care that other people were there. Janus smiled as he snapped himself in his own pajamas: grey sweatpants with a yellow snake design, a dual-headed snake that wrapped with his leg and rested its head near his hip; and a yellow sweater, decorated with tiny quotes of law and philosophy at the hem and on the edges of sleeves. The tiny quotes were in cursive, written in a darkish gold colour. Orange finally snapped himself in comfier clothes, mainly a pair of plain black pajama pants and a dark grey, long-sleeve shirt with orange accents. The orange accents were flame designs, from the hem to the middle of the shirt. The sleeve had a similar design to Janus', but instead of quotes, there were little flames at the edges of his sleeves.

"Do you mind if we stay, Polaris?" Janus asked gently, making sure Logan was comfortable.

Logan shook his head sleepily, exhaustion catching up with him. He didn't mind them staying; in fact, he preferred if they did. Not that he'd ever admit it, but the presence of people who genuinely care about you was a great way to chase the icky thoughts away. Not entirely chase them away, but close enough. Perhaps 'keeping them at bay for a little while' was more accurate. Either way, Logan wanted them to stay, both of them.

Logan didn't seem to catch the new nickname. If he did, he was far too drowsy to react to it.

Janus climbed in the bed, pulling back the covers so them three could settle in. He laid behind Logan, closest to the wall. He carefully put all pairs of his arms around the nerd's waist and torso, hugging him lightly from behind. Logan hummed contently, placing his hands on two of Janus'. A silent way of saying yes, this is okay. Yes, I am okay with this. Janus embraced him tighter, making sure he felt the love through his gesture. Logan did. He felt enough love from even just the cobra, so much that he nearly fell asleep.

But Orange still stood by the side of the bed, seemingly and oddly nervous. He wrung his wrist, thinking for a moment. He took Logan's glasses off his face before making a silent decision on something, setting the pair of lenses on a bedside table.

Oh, yeah. Glasses.

Now he couldn't see very well, but at least it was more comfy to fall asleep. Sleeping with glasses was ill-advised. And uncomfortable.

Janus noticed, raising an eyebrow from behind the astrophile as he rested his chin on the other's shoulder.

"Orange, sweetie? Are you okay?" he kept a soft voice, especially since he was near Logan's ear.

Orange simply nodded, sighing as he wrung his wrist again. Then he stopped himself, taking a quick breath.

"Just, um... I want to help Indie out, but I'm not great with touch. So..." Orange was uncharacteristically nervous, his voice slightly wavering as he confessed.

Neither am I. Most of the time.

A nice observation for Logan, to realize he had something in common with someone. Not so alone, then. Not as alone as he swore he was.

"That's okay. We can figure it out, sweetie. Come lay down."

Logan lightly nodded along with Janus' words, trying to show it was okay.

I'm like that, too, he wanted to say. Unless I initiate it or am just too tired to care. Like right now.

...you're like me.

A freeing warmth settled in Logan's chest.

He's like me.

Orange climbed into bed, pulling the covers over the three of them. Logan took a hand from Janus', holding it out to Orange.

Just hold my hand, was what it meant. Just holding my hand helps.

Orange seemed to understand, holding Logan's hand. The astrophile smiled sleepily at him, letting his eyes droop and close. He swiftly drifted off to sleep. Orange smirked contently, going to sleep as well. Janus gave a quick kiss to the forehead of each tired Side, finally resting himself.

They all slept through the night, and even through almost half the day. They watched over Logan after they all got up, getting him coffee and such. Reading with him. Helping him take a day off to recover from all the personal emotional turmoil. Listening to him talk, instead of ignoring him. Having a real conversation with him.

Logan ran into Remus a few days later, and they talked.

And Logan finally got what he deserved: people who listened to him, even if it meant facing those who didn't.

[lestappenforever]

hi angel c:

may I just say that this gp was as a fiction? it served us SO MUCH Lestappen content from the begging to the very end! i was scared that at some point it's gonna be fucked (yep talking about Charles' "luck") but instead we got a joint interview, a lot of waist grabbing, smiles and giggles, press conferences with "inchident" jokes and karting days (i'm so sorry for Checo and Carlos being the third wheel but it's inevitable, guys) AND the most important – a battle even in FP2 and then in race! i mean, Charles has done FANTASTIC job (not only in race but throughout the whole weekend. his quali laps? fuck that was hot). i don't remember when was the last time someone overtook Max in battle for the lead. i wanna scream to see Charles in capable and suitable for his style car (and reliable team that does not fuck up the strategies *side-eye to RBR*) 😭😭😭

is Vegas gp gonna be Austria 2.0? we even had the "dirty move" from Max which helped him to took the lead (as in 2019 but thanks fuck no grudges are left no divorce and yeah this time it was just a grip problem), then battles and the sensual podium. damn let us have every gp as Austria and Vegas and Lecstappen tumblr will go completely insane ._.

i'm also still not over the fact that Max apologized. I mean this man is literally the entire weekend was: FUCK YOU OKON FUCK YOU GEORGE FUCK YOU VEGAS FUCK EVERYONE OF YOU except you charlie you're my sweety lovely im sorry for the turn 1 schatje 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

i've seen some people being afraid of "lestappen divorce" after that turn 1, but i wasn't one of them. i really think that their relationship has seriously changed. sure that Max always treated Charles in a special way, congratulating him on good positions, even if he himself lost. but for some reason I feel that Charles himself now does not transfer what happens on the track beyond its boundaries. Austin sprint was also the proof.

okay thanks for listening to my rambling, i'm sleep deprived, these FPs at 5:30 and a race at 7:00 at the weekend the only fucking days when I can get some sleep kinda killed me

anyway, let me just remind you that you're beautiful and precious and just incredibly wonderful person🖤 i'm always looking forward for your posts and every time you reply to anons it's so warm, it makes my day better when i read it. just all your love and kindness you're giving people here... it's valuable. you're valuable. love ya, have a great day!!❤️

Denis, my darling, hello! ❤️

Once again you are dropping truth bombs in my ask box, and I am so happy to read them. I agree with every take you've shared here: the Las Vegas GP practically being taken straight out of a fic, and it actually giving Austria 2022 a run for its money. (Which I doubt any of us were prepared for, let's be honest.)

Both Max and Charles have grown so much over the years, and it's wonderful to see that their relationship has reached the point it's at now. Max apologizing to Charles for the incident in turn 1 is definitely a testament to the severe shift their friendship has taken recently, and it's just beautiful to watch.

I wasn't worried at all about their friendship suffering because of what happened in turn 1, and I think those who were worried about a potential "divorce" are people who haven't been as up-to-date on the shift of their friendship recently. They've reached a point where they can have incidents like that during a race without it impacting their relationship negatively at all. And if that isn't growth, then I don't know what is.

I hope you're catching up on some much needed sleep following this race weekend. 💙

Denis, you have given me such a good reason to smile this Monday morning with yet another heartfelt and kind ask, and words can't express how much I appreciate that and you. You are such a sweetheart, you're so incredibly beautiful inside and out, and you deserve the entire world. I'm so moved by your words, thank you so, so much. I'm so happy my posts can have that kind of impact on you.

Thank you so much for making my entire day with this. You're so valuable too, and I love you. 💕

[loserlolly]

yo

my name’s lorraine, but you can go ahead and call me lolly/lols if you’d like to, since that’s what i go by online. refer to me with any pronouns, just not he/him please!!

i’m a dumb stinky 18-year-old idiot with an extreme south park hyperfixation and a need to rp as gay coloradans /hj

i really really love roleplaying. i’ve been roleplaying for about 6 years and i consider myself a semi-literate to literate writer. i only rp on discord, so feel free to add me on there (loserlolly#9736) to inquire. please, nobody that isn’t in the 18+ age range.

idk why but doing silly little ship rps brings me a lot of joy

i don’t have many rp boundaries; i’m okay with sensitive topics and smutty/nsfw content (for these, i strongly prefer to play subby characters 😼). just no ocs, i dont have any and i find it difficult to connect with non-canon characters.

in all my rps, the silly south park kiddos will be aged up to high schoolers, anywhere from 9th-12th grade is fine, and i’m willing to do basically all scenarios. fluff, angst, smut- anything’s alright with me.

i will warn you i don’t know anything about tfbw & sot 😢 so that’s a no-go for now, but i’ll get back to you if i decide to play/watch play throughs so i understand lol

i do a lot of ooc talking and wouldn’t mind being friends outside of roleplaying: just general chatting, doodling together, listening to music, etc!! all good if you don’t wanna tho

the ships i like to rp the most will be listed below (bolded names are the ones i prefer to act out; if there isn’t one bolded, i’m fine with either) but feel free to ask me about others. i’m cool with rare pairs or ships that aren’t as popular/enjoyed. i’m not the greatest at ships that include more than 2 characters (“throuples”, poly, etc) because it overwhelms me a little, but i can attempt it if you’d like me to.

craig x tweek

kyle x stan

kenny x leopold (butters)/marjorine

tolkien x clyde

wendy x bebe

there’s others i find cool i just can’t remember them rn lol

send me a message on here or a friend req on discord if you’re interested

i desperately need roleplay buddies it’s been a solid month since my closest few quit roleplaying and i’m deprived /hj

yayayayaya!