#((I just want to read the same books I read when I was a little kid and have them just ALSO be lovingly diverse))

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Unlucky Overtime

SUMMARY: The Spelldrive game against Royal Sword Academy was very close. But it was in overtime that the teams broke the tie and Night Raven College... lost. They were very upset by this loss and need your comfort even if they deny it.

CHARACTERS: Spelldrive Club 🧹 (Leona Kingscholar; Ruggie Bucchi; Epel Felmier)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Comfort; Kiss

WORD COUNT: An average of 780 words per character.

COMMENTS: Following the same premise as what I wrote for Basketball Club and Track and Field Club of "What if they lost?"

When I started writing about comforting them when they lose, I ended up finding it more interesting and cute than celebrating when they win. I think it's in the bad times that feelings are most intimate and honest.

When I wrote Epel's part, I was upset about something IRL and it ended up helping me writing him. 😂

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy 😉

CONTEXT: If there are competitive players who love to win, they are the members of the NRC Spelldrive Club. Leona, Ruggie and Epel especially. They were playing with everything, especially because of the school they were playing against. The game against Royal Sword Academy was very close, as expected.

When the game ended they needed to break the tie and so the game went into overtime. But unfortunately, this did not give your school the victory.

Leona seemed upset about losing, as did the other players on his team. But even so, he was the calmest in comparison.

They congratulated the RSA students on their victory (or as close to it as possible, if we ignore the slight growls and murderous looks). They avoided unnecessary interactions until they could leave the field.

You know very well how Leona hates to lose, especially when he tries so hard. And so you knew you had to check on him and try to comfort him, even if he says he doesn't want you to.

You go to the locker rooms exit, but you don't see Leona coming out. Many of the players looked at you angrily when they passed by, but knowing how close you were to Leona, they didn't have the courage to even be rude to you directly.

When you see Ruggie, you ask him about Leona. He tells you that Leona left right after he came in, that he went in, grabbed his things and left. He didn't even change his clothes. This worries you and Ruggie.

“You should go check on him.” Ruggie tells you. “And even if he says he wants to be alone, don't listen, okay? He likes your company even if he doesn't like to admit it. I would also warn you not to pressure him, but you already know that.”

“And where do you think he went?” You ask.

“Where do you think he went? Come on, it's not like we don't know his favorite spots.”

You decided to try your luck at the Botanical Garden, and it looks like you were right, but you didn't realize it right away. You go to one of his favorite spots under a certain tree. You look around, but you don't see anyone, until you suddenly see a tail appearing hanging down beside you. You look up and see Leona lying on a thick branch above you.

“I don't need your comfort.” Leona says, without moving and without looking at you. “Go to your dorm. It's late.”

“You wanted me to see you.” You say. “Otherwise you wouldn't let your tail fall beside me.”

“Believe what you want, herbivore.”

His tail was still there by your side and you don't resist to touch it to mess with him. You reach your hand towards his tail, but at the last second it swings, lightly hits you in the face and returns to Leona's lap, away from you. He finally looks at you, but with an annoyed face and growls.

“I'm not in the mood to play. Go away before I bite you... Don't look at me like that.” He adjusts his head again and stops looking at you.

You sit down against the tree trunk. He growls again, but doesn't move. Just like with cats, you'll just stay there waiting for him to come to you. You use your phone or read a book while you wait.

A few minutes later it starts to get colder, you start to notice it and curl up a little. Suddenly something falls on top of your head, you uncover yourself and see that it is a long coat. Leona's captain's coat. You look up and see him in the same lazy position but without the coat and just with the black clothes and belts. You put it on and you start to warm up right away because it was still warm from him having been wearing it.

A few more minutes later and you are startled again by something that falls right in front of you. Or rather, that lands right in front of you.

“Don't you get tired?” Leona asks you, crouching down and looking you in the eyes. “Of being so stubborn?” He has that unbothered, but still slightly annoyed face.

You put down what you had in your hands and stretch your legs on the floor. He gives you a little throat growl. You smile, but he growls at you more, and suddenly he throws himself at you as if he's going to attack you. But he didn't. He stopped very close to your face.

“Yes. I'm angry that I lost.” He says in a low voice. “And that's why you shouldn't have come to me. I don't need pity or words of comfort.”

“Do you really think I pity you?” You ask. “I wasn't worried about you being angry. I was worried that you would fall back into that depressive state of feeling like life is unfair and it's not worth trying anymore.”

His green eyes remain fixed on yours and suddenly he kisses you eagerly. You already know him well enough to know what truly hides behind those roars and tough guy mask. His instinct was to reward you for it.

After he breaks the kiss he lays his head either on your chest or in your lap and hugs you. You are trapped now until he is willing to let you go.

Ruggie was so angry that Leona had to calm him down. All the NRC players congratulated the RSA players, but clearly only because it was what they had to do. The tension and animosity could be cut with a knife. After that, the NRC players go straight to the locker rooms. You feel like you should check on Ruggie.

You go to the exit of the locker rooms to wait for him. Some of the players who passed you on their way out gave you bad looks, but knowing how close you were to Ruggie, they did nothing more than just grumble into the air.

When Ruggie finally left he was still angry. When he saw you, his expression didn't change much other than being a little embarrassed.

“Hi, sorry, I don't have time.” He apologizes, clearly trying to avoid you, but smiling. “I want to put these clothes in the wash ASAP.” He walks around you and starts going away.

You follow him.

“I was thinking about trying those new donuts from Sam's shop with you.” You say.

You see his ears twitch with interest.

“Yeah... but you know, I'm not really hungry. And since they're new, those donuts are still expensive. I'm waiting for him to lower the price a little.”

“Don't worry, I already bought them for you.”

Ruggie stops! And looks at you in surprise.

“You did?! Why?”

“I wanted to give them to you after the game anyway. You know, for the good game.” You see him pouting. “I didn't buy them as a consolation gift. I did it before the game started. I was going to give them to you even if you had won.”

He seemed more satisfied with that explanation and you took out the box you had in your backpack.

“How come I don't smell it?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise, so I asked Sam if there was a way to hide the scent from you. He used a spell on the box.”

Ruggie asks you if he charged extra for the spell. You said he didn't. Before you open the box, Ruggie suggests that you go to a more chill place. After all, you were still near the locker rooms surrounded by players and spectators.

The Windmill is right behind the coliseum and not many people usually go there. In fact, there was no one else there. The two of you sat on the edge of the stream that surrounded the Windmill. The sound of running water could calm both of you.

You open the box, take out one of the donuts and hold it up to his mouth. He blushes a little, but accepts your offer and takes a bite. You loosen your grip and he takes the donut out of your hand with his mouth.

While he was eating he looked at the water and despite the calming sound his anger returned because of the thoughts that also returned to that game. You could hear him mumbling softly, and see his ears back and his teeth showing.

He finishes eating the donut and stands up abruptly, starting to release his frustration with swearing and cursing to the air, kicking the ground and even pulling up grass. You remain sitting on the floor eating your donut.

As soon as he finishes his emotional outburst, which he always did with his back to you, he finally turns around, dropping his arms and sighing. He kneels down next to you, looks at you with a pout, picks up the box of donuts and takes it from your lap. For a second you think he's going to steal all the donuts for himself, but he sets the box aside and lays his head in your lap as if he's laying it on the pillow after a tantrum. You even hear a dog-like whining. If you pet his head, you might see his tail wagging a little.

The two of you continued eating the donuts as you pet his head and ears to comfort him. When the donuts are gone and the box is empty, he gets up, sitting on the grass next to you. Ruggie looks at you, still a little sad, but calmer and with an affectionate sparkle in his eyes.

He doesn't say anything, he just throws himself into a kiss as a thank you.

EPEL WAS PISSED!!! Leona and Ruggie had to calm him down. Even RSA players were scared to see someone like Epel like that. Like other NRC players he avoided unnecessary interactions with players from the opposing and winning team.

As soon as they were able to retreat to the locker rooms Epel was one of the quickest to leave the field. You knew you should check on him.

You go to the exit of the locker rooms to wait for him. You see the other NRC players walk past you, angry about losing and when you finally see Epel coming out of the locker room, the expression on his face is the same if not worse than that of his other teammates, even the vein in his forehead was bulging.

But that changes completely the moment he sees you. His shoulders, and consequently his posture, relaxed and he smiled slightly at you, knowing he couldn't fool you with a big smile. He had a bandage on his nose because of the injury he suffered when he blocked a shot with his face during the game.

You walk over to him and carefully place your hands on his face, showing your concern for his injury. He blushes!

“D-Don't worry. I'm fine, I promise... Gah, wait! Vil’s gonna kill me when he sees me like this!” He suddenly worries.

You say that Vil doesn't need to see him so soon and suggest that the two of you go for a walk so he can clear his head a bit. He sighs and accepts your offer, you are usually right at these times.

“I really need to go for a walk. Or a run. Dagnabbit, I don't even know if walking around the entire campus is enough. If we could leave the camps whenever we wanted and I had a Blastcycle, or... OH! What if you come with me for a broom ride?”

“But you just finished a game of Spelldrive.” You say “Are you sure getting back on a broomstick will be good for you?”

“Don't worry, I can separate a game from a ride. Trust me, it will be good to feel the fresh wind on my face.” He gives you a reassuring smile.

He goes to get his broom and you climb on it behind him, holding on to his torso. The beginning of the ride is pleasant, but eventually he starts to speed up until he reaches a point where you squeeze him and ask him to slow down.

“AH! Sorry, sorry, sorry! My mind went back to that game and I got angry again. I must have started speeding up by accident because of that. Sorry... I think we should stop somewhere for a break.”

He lands on the roof of Ramshackle Dorm.

“Sorry again if I worried you.” He tells you after you both get off the broom. But the ride actually helped me a bit.” Suddenly he grimaces in pain and puts his fingers to the bandage on his nose, it seems his bad mood was returning.

You cup his face and kiss his nose lightly. He blushes a lot again and look away from you.

“I wanted you to see us win.” He admits. “I was so excited to know you were watching. I really wanted to make you proud.”

You tell him that you're proud of him, just as Ruggie and Leona probably are too. Who wouldn't be? He always works so hard to improve. And he's still just a freshman, there will be more opportunities to win, he's just starting out. And for a start, you're sure he played better than a lot of freshmen. You finish by saying that he should rest, especially with an injury like that, and you even offer to take care of it for him if he needs.

“Thank you so much, (Y/N).” He smiles sweetly at you. “I promise I'll give you a win next time.”

If you say that you would prefer him to be more careful, his smile and gaze will become even more affectionate.

“I'll try. Although... hum, nothing.”

You say that now you want to know and he blushes slightly.

“I... I was just thinking that... it must be nice to be taken care of by you. I wouldn't mind getting a shot in the face again for that. Ha ha ha.”

If you hug him, he will freeze for a second, but then he will hug you back and you will feel a loving squeeze, as he whispers a thank you. If you let him, he will kiss your cheek after the hug. And if you want, he will continue with another type of kiss.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[farfromstrange]

“He was doing the Roman salute!” this “He was just giving his heart to the people” that. I don’t know about you, but this makes me extremely uncomfortable, and we should be!

Let me give you a little history lesson.

As far as my knowledge goes, the ‘Roman salute’ originates from a painting in the 1700s (?), then was used by the Italian Fascist regime. Yes, you read that right. Fascist. And guess who adapted the so-called ‘Roman salute’ to greet his followers?

Adolf Hitler.

You know, the Austrian guy who managed to gain power over the German government in just 3 months once he got to power through a series of political and economic crises (that) helped him rise to power legally (“Hitler Comes to Power”), and destroyed the democracy that was established in the Weimar Republic? The Weimar Republic, for those of you who don’t cover it in school, was the thing that was established in 1918 because people did this other thing called the November Revolution.

People were unhappy after WWI, the government faced a lot of problems, and radical political parties tried to overtake the government. Both the far right and left, mind you. In 1923, the Nazis staged a coup, but that didn’t work. So, they changed tactics. They were resilient bastards, let me tell you. They still are, unfortunately.

Instead of violence, they focused their efforts on winning elections. They did not succeed, at first, because they were small and unpopular. However, the economic and political crisis in 1930 gained them more votes because the government at the time failed to solve the problems caused by that crisis. People started to lose their faith in the power of democracy. Sound familiar?

Some of the things they promised were to fix the economy and put people back to work; return Germany to the status of a great European or rather, a world-power; regain territory Germany had lost in World War I, and create a strong authoritarian German government. But they also played on people’s fears and prejudices, like blaming Jews and migrants and Communists for everything.

Sounds familiar too, doesn’t it?

Long story short, the Nazi party got more votes than any other party and made it into parliament. They refused to work with other political parties. Hitler demanded to be appointed chancellor, and the president gave in. He didn’t transform Germany into a dictatorship right away (because Germany still had a constitution, duh), so he started manipulating the system instead. They used existing laws to destroy democracy, and the whole thing only took 3 months. When the president died, Hitler declared himself the ‘Führer’ of Germany, and you know how that story panned out.

The ‘Roman salute’—Musk is guilty of using it, you can’t change my mind—is called the ‘Hitlergruß’ for a reason. Because Adolf Hitler was using it to greet his Nazi followers, and it quickly became the salute all Nazis used. It was actually mandatory for civilians. Now, it is illegal to use in Germany, Austria, Slovakia, and I think Poland, too.

As a German who had to see pictures of people doing that salute for most of her school years, there a difference between ‘giving your heart to the people’ and that. Elon Musk definitely knew what he was doing. Someone who’s probably had more media training than most celebrities.

Look at Germany’s history and think about what Donald Trump has been doing. Or as ABBA once said, the history book on the shelf is always repeating itself. But do we really want that? My country’s going on the same direction, and it’s scary, but that’s why we have to stand up. Do our part. Fight back. Change in history has always happened through protests and revolutions—through coming together instead of dividing over the smallest things while trying to fight against the far right and fascism—and we have to do the same.

Works cited:

“Hitler Comes To Power.” Holocaust Encyclopedia, 14. Nov. 2024, encyclopedia.ushmm.org/content/en/article/hitler-comes-to-power. Accessed 22 Jan. 2025.

what do you mean elon musk did a nazi salute on live tv at the united states presidential inauguration twice and is now erasing the evidence off the internet by replacing the footage with the crowd cheering instead?

would be a shame if people reblogged this, wouldn’t it?

[luigilore]

[1:17 AM]

luigi's limbs and your own are entangled together, one of his arms thrown over your waist, pulling your back close against his chest. you haven't felt any movement from him except his rhythmic breathing and start to wonder if he's actually asleep until you feel his touch gently move across your bare shoulder.

his palm warmly slides across your spine and the direct contact makes you shiver a little- in a really good way. one of his fingertips moves across your back, almost like he's tracing something, but you can't quite discern what it is. still, the gesture itself makes you feel so incredibly endeared that something blooms inside of you that you can't entirely understand in the moment, something like overwhelming love. 

“what're you doing?” you mumble, voice hoarse from not speaking for a while. you stay with your back to luigi, not having the energy to turn around and face your boyfriend, and not wanting to mess up your current comfortable and cozy position.

he responds easily, his low voice makes your heart beat a little faster. “just tracing the constellations.” luigi continues softly, “this is orion.” you feel him gently trace a pattern along your skin. “and this is cygnus,” he says as his fingers continue to graze across your skin.

"i didn't know you knew the constellations," you smile, although not that surprised. you've known luigi long enough to not be shocked at all the things he somehow manages to know, the bits of knowledge he seeks out and retains.

you can hear the grin in his voice when he repsonds, "yeah, i had this big book of constellations when i was a kid. i read it all the time."

"it's all muscle memory now," he mutters, as tracing the same patterns he used to spot in the sky, his own little constellations, fingertips warm against your skin.

“feels nice," you sigh simply, enjoying his soft, warm touch. "show me another," you murmur, now turning your body to face him as he smiles widely at your request.

“this is cassiopeia.” luigi thumbs a small pattern on your skin that resembles a simple zig zag. “it’s supposed to be a seated queen.”

“let me try,” you find yourself surrounded by luigi's as your arms find their way around his neck. you trace a similar pattern to the one he showed you on his own bare shoulder blade. his eyes flutter shut as he shudders, “that was good, really good.” he says softly, eyes remaining closed but he's still smiling back at you, totally relaxed.

“good,” you whisper back, continuing to trace the zig zag pattern up and down his back, slowly lulling him into a content sleep. there's something satisfying watching luigi fall asleep. it's something he deserves but is not so often granted to him and you love that he feels safe and comfortable with you. you shift to return back to your original spooning position- but not before pressing a sweet kiss to his forehead.

[satellite-evans]

Le petit prince

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

Summary: “The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched, they are felt with the heart.”

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: fluff

A/N:

This is something that popped into my head and I couldn't help myself. It is not my best work and I am not quite familiar with Charles but I tried my best lol

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

It was an unspoken truth that the entire world seemed to be in love with your husband. His charming smile, his effortless elegance, the way he carried himself both on and off the track—all of it made him irresistible to anyone who laid eyes on him. And while you couldn’t deny that you adored these traits about him, they weren’t the reasons you fell so deeply in love with him.

No, it was his mind. His wisdom, his insatiable curiosity about the world, and his eagerness to share what he learned with you were what truly captured your heart.

Charles had an intellect that burned brightly beneath the surface of his public persona. He wasn’t just a racer; he was an observer, a thinker. The books he read, the documentaries he watched, the podcasts he consumed during long flights or lonely hotel nights—all of them painted a picture of a man who was deeply intrigued by the world around him. And it was so unbelievably attractive.

Unlike some men, who might lord their knowledge over others or diminish their partner for not knowing something, Charles shared his discoveries with a kind of boyish enthusiasm that made you want to listen, learn, and engage with him. It was as if every fact, every little piece of knowledge, was a gift he was excited to give you.

“Did you know,” he said one evening as you sat together on the balcony, the skyline glittering behind him, “that octopuses have three hearts? Two pump blood to the gills, and one pumps it to the rest of the body. But when they swim, the one pumping to the body stops. Isn’t that incredible?”

You leaned closer, resting your chin in your hand, completely enthralled. “That’s amazing, Charles. I didn’t know that.”

“I thought you’d like that one,” he said with a smile, his green eyes sparkling in the soft light.

Moments like these were your favorite. He was entirely himself with you, not the Formula 1 superstar the world admired, but the curious, tender-hearted man you had fallen in love with. He got as much joy from sharing these tidbits as you did from hearing them, and your enthusiasm only encouraged him.

You first met Charles in the most unassuming of places: a quiet little bookstore tucked away in the streets of Monaco. As a resident of the city, you often found solace wandering its hidden gems, especially the ones that felt untouched by the glittering extravagance Monaco was known for. This bookstore, with its creaky wooden floors and the faint scent of aged paper, had become your haven whenever life felt overwhelming. You had gone there on a whim, craving the comfort of an old favorite book, The Little Prince. Little did you know, that same book would change your life forever.

As your hand reached for the single remaining copy on the shelf, it collided with another. Startled, you looked up and met a pair of warm, hazel-green eyes. The faint scent of aged paper and leather bindings filled the air, mingling with the soft murmur of a distant conversation and the occasional creak of the wooden floorboards as other patrons moved about. For a moment, the world seemed to still, the gentle warmth of the bookstore wrapping around you like a protective cocoon. Charles. Even then, you knew who he was. It was impossible not to. But what struck you wasn’t his fame or his looks—though those were undeniably striking. It was the way he immediately stepped back, smiling apologetically.

“C'est à vous,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “Je vous en prie.” ("It's yours, I insist.")

“No, really, it’s okay,” you replied. “I can wait for another copy.”

But Charles wouldn’t hear of it. He purchased the book and handed it to you outside the store. “Only if you’ll let me buy you a coffee to make up for the trouble.”

The coffee turned into an hours-long conversation, one where you discovered a man who was so much more than the glamorous image the world saw. You spoke about everything and nothing—books you loved, your favorite childhood memories, and even silly debates like whether croissants or pain au chocolat reigned supreme. Charles shared stories about growing up in Monaco, how the roar of engines had always been a part of his life, but so had the quiet afternoons his mother would spend reading to him. He confessed his love for history, the way he found peace in learning about the past, and how it sometimes felt like the world moved too fast for him to keep up. You, in turn, told him about your passions, your quirks, the little things that made you feel alive. By the time the conversation ended, it felt as though you had known him for years, not just a few hours. He was kind, attentive, and curious about your thoughts on everything. By the time you exchanged numbers, your heart was already a little lighter, a little fuller.

Your relationship grew in the quiet spaces between his chaotic schedule and your own life. And yet, no matter how hectic things got, Charles always made you feel like you were the center of his world. He’d call you from far-flung locations, sharing the things he’d learned that day, whether it was a new French word he’d picked up or an interesting fact about the city he was visiting.

“Did you know that Kyoto has over 1,600 temples?” he asked one evening, his voice crackling slightly over the phone. “I wish you were here to see it.”

“Me too,” you said softly. “But tell me everything about it. What did you see today?”

And he did, painting vivid pictures with his words so that you felt as though you were right there beside him.

When Charles proposed, it was as though your entire world had crystallized into a single perfect moment. He took you back to that little bookstore where you first met, leading you inside under the pretense of looking for a book. But when you turned around, he was there on one knee, holding out a ring and looking at you like you were his entire universe.

“You’ve given me more than I ever thought I could have,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “A love that feels like home. A reason to keep learning, growing, and becoming a better man. Will you marry me?”

Through tears, you managed to say yes, and he swept you into his arms, laughing with pure, unfiltered joy.

Now, years later, you found yourself sitting together in your cozy living room, the remnants of his birthday party scattered around. Everyone had gone home, leaving just the two of you to share a quiet moment. Charles picked up the last gift, the one you’d been waiting all evening for him to open.

“Let’s see what this is,” he said, glancing at you with a playful smile. “You’re more excited than I am.”

“Just open it!” you urged, your hands fidgeting in your lap.

Carefully, he peeled back the wrapping paper, revealing the familiar cover of The Little Prince. For a moment, he just stared at it, his expression unreadable. Then he opened it and saw the inscription you’d written on the first page:

To my prince, who taught me that the most beautiful things in life are felt with the heart. Joyeux anniversaire, my love.

He looked up at you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You kept it?”

“Of course,” you said softly. “It’s where it all began.”

Charles set the book aside and pulled you into his arms, holding you as though he never wanted to let go. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he whispered into your hair. “Thank you for loving me, for seeing me, for being you.”

You buried your face in his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your cheek. In that moment, the rest of the world faded away. It was just you and Charles, two hearts intertwined, finding solace and joy in each other’s presence.

And as he kissed you, slow and tender, you realized that you’d never need anything more than this. Because with Charles, you’d found your forever.

[vvanillal]

𓄹⠀𓈒⠀ㅤׄ Forbidden Desires꣑ৎ 𓄹⠀𓈒⠀ㅤׄ

Summary- You and Harry were supposed to be ‘Causal’.

Warnings- Harry Potter x F!Reader, Angst, Smut, Jealous!Harry, Possessive!Harry If You Squint, Fingering, Eating Out

Word Count- 2.6k!

A/N- AHHHH ANOTHER HARRY SMUT. I loved writing this one. Also don’t mind that the reader is a Slytherin 2 fics in a row. MY REQUEST ARE OPEN

It was a secret: you and Harry. You’d both made a promise to each other not to say anything. You also made another promise: no strings attached. It was hard, truly. Especially since it had been Harry. He could have any woman he wanted, and for some reason he chose to be… something, with you.

At first, it went fine. You could even say it was the happiest you’d been in a while; sneaking around with Harry. He would do sweet things, like pass you notes in classes you shared. ‘You look beautiful today,” one had read. That day, all you did was curl your hair; you hadn’t even put makeup on. Then, it became something he would just do. You were sure people noticed in class, when you’d giggle to yourself with a little piece of paper in your hand. You’d just be walking in the hallway some days, and feel someone pull you into a darkened corner. Harry, or you, were never even sure it was ‘safe’, but you never heard any talk about it. So you kept doing it. After every class, you looked forward to feeling a hand jerk you away from the crowd. He’d push you against the cold, brick wall, pressing himself against you as close as possible. His lips would nip at your neck, trying not to leave marks. Your breath would be heavy as you tried to be as quiet as possible. “Harry, we’re going to be late,” you’d whisper. “I just need to feel you for a few more seconds,” he’d whisper back, his lips parted against your collarbone. Each time, he touched you like he hadn’t in days. Harry craved you, all day every day.

Just like you expected though, the happiness didn’t last long. Soon, it became apparent that for Harry, you couldn’t breathe in the same direction as another man. You could tell when he was mad; you could see it in the way his stare was hardened with yours, and you could feel it in the way his touch was rough enough to leave bruises. “Harry? I know you’re upset, so tell me what’s wrong,” you said one day. You watched as he slammed his books shut and shoved them into his backpack; everyone else cleared from the classroom. His leg had been bouncing the whole class, and his fist was clenched on top of the table. He clenched them so hard his knuckles had turned white. “Don’t act dense, Y/N.” You watched as he stormed out of the classroom, leaving you to dwell. That had been the first time he’d genuinely been upset. It didn’t take you long to connect the dots, realizing the pattern. He’d only act like this when he caught you socializing with another man.

This particular time though had left the two of you not talking for days. You and Neville talked a little too much at dinner, apparently. And apparently Neville fixing your hair after it was sticking up, was too much. You weren’t going to listen to Harry criticize him when he was one of your friends. Once you admitted Neville had been one of your friends, he stormed off to his bedroom. He hasn’t talked to you since, Harry.

You didn't know when Harry was going to talk to you, but by the looks of it, he hadn't planned to. You watched him from the end of the Slytherin table as he flirted with Ginny. Sure, he had always been flirty with other girls; because of course, you two were casual. But he hadn’t flirted like this. He was touchy, way too touchy. And he walked Ginny to every class, and you were sure you had seen them kiss. Or they were about to, you looked before you could watch the rest.

The truth was, Harry wasn’t casual to you. You had feelings for him, real feelings. Countless nights you had cried over his hurtful actions, and then the next day he was sweet. It was a never ending cycle. It wasn’t like you could talk to people about it; you truly kept the secret, not even telling your best friend. You could never bring yourself to tell Harry how you felt, because you were sure he didn’t feel the same. You were sure he just thought of you as casual.

It had been exactly a week, today, since you and Harry had spoken. And you are certain now that he didn’t give a shit about you anymore. It was going to be hard, going to watch the Quidditch match later, and acting like you didn’t support him. Harry knew before whose side you were on, whether or not you were in a different house or not. But that’s what you did; you went to the Quidditch match and pretended you loved that Gryffindor was losing.

The match was intense. It had always been this way for Slytherin Vs. Gryffindor, but today was just different. Harry wasn’t playing like he normally would. He seemed slower on his broom, and he still hadn’t caught the snitch. You couldn’t stop watching him, because every once in a while, his eyes would meet with yours in the stands. The match halfway over, and still neither of the seekers had caught the snitch. But then, Harry spotted it, and he was after it. The opposing seeker was right on his tail though, following him intently. Harry reached out and tried to grab the snitch, but he missed. The Slytherin seeker took a shortcut, suddenly, and cut off Harry. Apparently Harry wasn’t watching very well though, because they bumped into each other. And apparently he wasn’t holding on very well either, because he’d fallen from his broom. The Slytherin seeker smirked, and was off after the snitch once more. You let your hand cover your mouth, listening to the eruptions of whispers around you. You stood on your tippy toes to see Harry sitting on the ground, his hand covering the right side of his forehead. He was okay. He’d just gotten a cut it looked like. You couldn’t resist going to check on him though, even if it was just a little cut. You saw him get up from the sandy ground, and found yourself pushing between people. “Excuse me, sorry- Excuse me,” you said as you made your way across the stands, watching Harry go back into the Gryffindor locker loom. The game looked to be resuming though.

You looked behind you to make sure no one was following you into the locker room, and you saw Harry sitting on the bench with a paper towel against his cut. He looked up, seeing who walked in, and his eyes softened for a split second at the sight of a worried you, and then turned into a glare. It was beginning to be a classic for him. “You know you’re not supposed to be in here, Y/N,” your name was like poison escaping from his lips. “Harry please, don’t act like this.” That’s all you could say, it was the only words you could find. You hadn’t even meant to come off so desperate, but you know you did. He scoffed, flipping over the towel to the clean side. The towel was soaked with blood. “Jesus Harry, let me see,” you said with concern, walking over to him quickly. He didn’t protest, lifting the towel enough for you to see. It was a nasty cut, small, but nasty. You looked around the room for anything as you saw a door with a first aid kit hanging on it. “Come here,” you said, grabbing his wrist. He stood up, but jerked his hand back. “I’m not fucking incapable of walking,” he snapped. You didn’t say anything, you couldn’t.

The room was small, a little bit bigger than what’s considered to be a large pantry. Backed up against the back wall was an infirmary bed, with 2 chairs beside each end. And behind the door was a sink, with a cabinet above it. “Sit down,” you said, grabbing the first aid kit off the door, closing it and walking over to the sink. You looked through the cabinet for sterile saline to clean his wound; unmistakably feeling his eyes watching you. You found the saline, and gauze along with it. You stood between his legs, dabbing his wound with the wet gauze. He winced, and his face scrunched in pain. The pushing together of his skin only made it bleed more. “Hold pressure,” you said, and Harry did as you said. You dug through the first aid kid and found wound closing tape, exactly what you needed. You got a new gauze, wetting it with saline again.

“Harry, we can’t keep doing this,” you broke the silence, trying to get the wound to stop bleeding; “I can’t keep doing this,” you rephrased. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied, his eyes locked with yours. “I know you don’t give a shit anymore. It’s been obvious for a while. I wish you would just end things properly instead of giving me false hope and then continuing to fuck other girls,” your voice was shaky. This was hard. You applied the tape after his wound stopped bleeding, but you didn’t move from your spot. You only backed up to give him room; and Harry still sat on the bed. “What are you talking about, Y/N,” he raised his voice, his eyes darkening. “Oh please, don’t act like I haven’t seen you and Ginny. Don’t act like I didn’t see you kiss her in the hallway. How many more are there that I’m not seeing,” you scoff, arms crossing over your chest to comfort yourself. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, laughing mockingly. That had done it… he’s just pissed you off. “No YOU are ridiculous. We’re supposed to be casual, but I didn’t know that it came with rules. I didn’t know you would get pissed off when I breathed in another man’s direction. This is tiring Harry, truly. I can’t keep doing this and getting hurt,” you were crying now. Whenever he didn’t say anything, you shook your head, “we’re done,” you said. You turned on your heels, ready to walk out.

Just before you could get the door open, you felt Harry grab your wrist, pulling you back and against the wall. “I don’t like seeing you cry,” he said, cageing you between his body and the wall. Then, you slapped him across the face, and you didn’t know why. You hadn’t even thought about it, you just did it. “It’s your fault,” you spat. His hand came up to the side of his cheek, feeling the hotness your hand left behind. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said, his hand now coming to the side of your face, letting his thumb caress your cheek. “No you’re not. This was never casual for me, Harry. I feel things for you… I have feelings for you,” you admit, raising your voice in front of a rather calm Harry. You open your mouth to say more, but he cuts you off with his lips against yours. You push him back as quickly as you could, “Don’t you dare. You’re dirty, Harry. It’s untelling how many other people you’ve kissed in the past few days,” you scream, pointing a finger at him. You were kind of being a hypocrite now. He just engulfs your hands in his. “I haven’t kissed anyone else, Y/N. I haven’t touched anyone else,” he says softly, looking at you with equally soft eyes. “Why do you keep hurting me then? And how do you explain Ginny, ” you ask, sniffling. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to. I just can’t stand to see you even talking to another guy. I feel nothing for Ginny. I swear it was only to make you jealous. I have feelings for you too, Y/N. Can’t you see that?”

Your eyes widen in surprise. You couldn’t even think at that point. You grab his face roughly, smashing your lips against his. He returns the energy, instantly deepening the kiss by squeezing your waist. You feel for the doorknob, locking it. “I’m so sorry,” he said between kisses. “Shut up,” you moan.

He lets his hand slip onto your back, guiding you to the infirmary bed, his lips never leaving yours. Your ass hits the back of the bed, and you moan as his tongue enters your mouth. “Let me repay you,” he says, breaking the kiss just to begin kissing your neck. You moan at his words, “how?” He drops to his knees, looking up at you with big eyes full of desire. You get the message, quickly pulling down your skirt. He groans at the sight of your red, lace panties, “you’re still so perfect,” he whispers. His eyes just looked hungry now.

You throw your leg over his shoulder, letting your thigh rest on the space. You tangle your hands in his hair as he presses a kiss to your clothed clit. “I missed you so much,” you say, lips parting at the sight of him looking up at you. He moves your lace to the side, his wet mouth coming in contact with your clit. You shiver at the coldness, pulling at the strands of his hair, producing a groan from him. The vibrations went straight to your core, causing you to whimper in delight.

This wasn’t the first time he ate you out, and it surely wouldn’t be the last. He loved doing it, and every time he did, he ate you out like it was his last meal. He loved watching your face twist in pleasure, and hearing the sweet sounds leave your lips. It was no different this time.

His tongue worked against your sensitive bud; even more sensitive now from getting nothing for a week. You nearly scream when you feel two of his fingers push past your entrance. “Fuck Harry, just like that,” you whine. Your legs were beginning to become weak from the pleasure. You look down at him and find him watching you, observing the pleasure he was giving you. He curled his fingers in your cunt, and you had to cover your mouth. You feared the people all the way outside, in the stands, would hear you. You bring your free hand up and begin touching your clothed nipples. Harry moaned against your clit at the sight.

“I’m so close, Harry,” you moan, not caring how loud you were being now. He inserted another finger in you, and curled his fingers once more, pushing them in and out. He felt for your sweet spot, until he found it. “Shit,” you moan, throwing your head back. You didn’t know whether to focus on the feeling of his tongue flicking sweetly against your clit, or the feeling of his fingers pulsing into you. Either way, you were close. He knew this already, you didn’t have to tell him. He could feel you clench around his fingers. “I’m gonna-” you came before you could even finish your sentence. “Fuck,” you groan, the feeling of your orgasm overtaking your body. Your legs shook weakly.

After the feeling of your orgasm subsided, you freed your leg from his shoulder, and he stood up, helping you put on your skirt. “Am I forgiven,” he said, a smirk on his face as he licked you off of his fingers. You watch him, heat rising to your cheeks. “I’m going to do better,” he said, pulling you closer to him. “You’re forgiven,” you said, smiling. The sound of celebrating Gryffindors could be heard coming into the locker room. Apparently they had made a comeback. How were you going to explain why Harry’s hair was messed up, and why both of you were red, and why you had taken so long for such a small cut, and most importantly why you were in the locker room.

[zorilleerrant]

"You consider me your priestess?" the girl - the old woman, now, but you can still see her rosy cheeks the first time she came to visit you - asks you. It's hard to determine her tone of voice. She doesn't sound offended, at least, although she also doesn't sound like she believes you're a god. That, at least, is expected.

You wave your hand vaguely. You didn't get the gesture quite right, but humans always change their body language, and it's been too long since you needed to be human for anything. "It's not that you are. But you're the closest I've had in generations, and I would mark you one, if you want me to." You sit, casually, on a bench that wasn't there a moment before, hoping she'll do the same.

The old woman eyes it suspiciously. She's been here for every birthday since she found the place, and many informal days besides, and she knows there was never a bench here. Still, with a weary sigh, she sits beside you. "I'd like that, I think. I never had the test scores to join any of the big priesthoods. Get one over on them, a little bit." She laughs, and her teen years, writing scathing takedowns of theological papers, come back into view for a moment.

You touch her hand. There's a spark of magic. You don't need to, you never used to, but humans are more skeptical these days, and even your most devoted follower doesn't remember the old ways.

For a moment fleeting even by her standards, you wonder if she might have brought them back. But the fishing town isn't what it once was, and no one much makes the hike up here anymore, save curious children and nostalgic adults.

"Do you want me to do anything?" your priestess asks you, a wry smiling wrinkling the still plump curve of her cheeks. "Carry a sign, maybe? Rush into the town and curse their names for not giving you your due respect? I can do a mean scolding these days."

You laugh, hand still resting over hers. "If you like." The idea of her running among the fishmongers, giving over amulets with every sale, making rude gestures when they're refused, is incomparable. The only thing she really needs is The Book, though. You fold open your altar, the way she's done so many times, and bring out the box she admired enough to start polishing gently when she came to visit, telling you about her travels and her art.

"Oh, you again," your priestess says, in delight, laying a delicate hand on the smooth wood. "I learned woodworking and inlay because of you, you little scamp." When she draws her fingers down the sides, this time, the box opens, with a click she can barely hear. Her ears aren't what they once were. Her gasp is the same as it ever was, though, and she taps The Book reverently.

"I never had many rules, even back in the beginning," you tell her, opening the cover so she knows it's safe. "What ones I had don't matter so much, I think - although I'd ask you to be careful where you summon storms, if you try it." You don't know if she has the power for that, anymore. She delved deep into magic in her mid-life crisis, but you've rarely seen her use it since, and you don't know if hers has waned or blossomed in her twilight years.

She looks over the spells. She can read the annotations, still, at least. "It's a lot of power for one person." She flexes her fingers, summoning wisps of what might be the core of some major working, if she concentrated a little harder. "Would you mind if I taught these to people? Not to join your priesthood, mind, just so there could be a little more magic in the world."

You pause. You should have considered that. Many of your siblings have left their words and their magics to the world as their respect faded away, and even more have begun recovery as lost arts. You didn't know your priestess was a teacher. You knew she'd taught a few times, when the calling struck her, but never that she felt the need in her heart. "Of course," you say. The spells are mostly weak now, you think. The time for hiding them is long past. If there's something in there that can help, so be it.

She grins at you. Her teeth are still hardy, and the candlelight flashes pleasingly against them. "Of course you'd mind, or of course you wouldn't? Don't give me any loopholes, now, Your Divinity," she laughs at her own joke, the way she started doing when she broke free of childish attempts at maturity, but still, she waits for your answer, taking your hand in hers again.

"Share them however you'd like," you tell her, knowing that it means she'll record it down to scans and recreations, "the knowledge within is yours." It's clear she'll get years of delight out of it. You don't know how much she might change the world of the handful of enthusiasts she chooses to work with her. It's a nice bookend for a life full of adventure, you think, a discovery like that.

She kisses the book, gently, on the gilded cover. Then, almost as an afterthought, she kisses your cheek as well. "Thank you," she says. Then she opens it again, absorbed in the pages, well past when the evening grows dark. You keep the candles burning higher for her, so she never has to stop her perusal. It's soothing, to watch a priestess once again hard at work. She looks up. "Is this the gift?"

"What?" you ask, caught off guard. Even through all your disciples, you never managed to learn which times connect to each other in the mind of a human. You'd thought that question long forgotten, and hadn't planned on answering right now.

"The gift you said you wanted to give me. Is The Book the gift?" she asks, in confusion. Books are wonderful, powerful things, of course, but they aren't secret. Hidden, often, and protected, and sometimes held to only the most intimate of worshipers, but they're nothing unexpected, not for a deity to give.

You lean back on the bench you never rose from, and wonder if you should bring in desks for those she plans to teach. "No. I was going to offer you your choice of afterlife, when the time comes." You watch her as she frowns. You wonder if she already has an answer in mind. You wonder if she knew since she was knee high with a scraped arm, or since she was a teenager bent on escaping her classmates, or since she was learning to grow and just choosing her passion. She just looks at you, not answering.

Then, weary minutes later - weary for her, where each night brings aches the day didn't; you're happy to wait - she asks, almost rudely, "not soon, I hope?" Her chin juts out as it used to.

"Not so soon for you," you say, thoughtfully, "although too soon for me, I must admit."

She nods, still cradling The Book carefully. "I thought, once you'd made me your priestess, I'd end up going where all your servants go," she says, sounding, of all thing, patient about it. You don't know how much she knows about your afterlife. You've never discussed it with her. Even when you were popular, once, that was never much of the details that caught people's eye.

"Normally only monks go there," you say, not that you'd discourage her, if she wanted to stay always by your side. "It's a place for quiet contemplation, mostly. Even of my priesthood, only the ones who valued their silence ever stayed." You can see her, in a long gown, roaming the halls in a circle, thinking. You can't see her enjoying it for more than a short time.

"You'd have to send me away," she says, ruefully. Then she pauses to think. "You won't pick for me? I can pick?"

Still, you think, she might have you picking her home, anyway. So many of yours did. Even the ones who earned the highest honors left everything in your hands, and here she is a priestess of moments only, ready to upset everything. Or nothing, if you ask her not to. You close her hands around The Book again.

"Think on it," you say, and wait for next year.

While other god's shrines are magnificent, yours is a bit too humbling. And yet a little girl visits you every year after stumbling upon it, never missing a year even as she grows old. Deeply moved, you decide to give her a parting gift greater than what any other God would dare to give.

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

P*rn ☆  Chapter 8, A moment of bliss

Masterlist Word count: 3.5 k Sylus x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been following a spicy content creator by the name of Red Crow for some time now. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what would happen when he moves into the apartment next door.

Author's note: Hi everyone. Enjoy Sylus being a switch/bottom for this one. He won't be for every chapter, but he's desperate and you've been waiting for this sooooo... I do want to remind everyone that this is my first time writing a smutty story. I hope it makes sense. <3

Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains sex, swear words, porn, smoking, intimate piercings, mentions of drugs, alcohol, mentions of domestic abuse, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.

Mature content under the cut.

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'And then he slept over,' you tell Zayne over the phone and quickly add, 'we just cuddled. It was nice.' He doesn't need to say anything for you to know he disapproves. Just wait, he'll tell you that you shouldn't invite men you don't know over to your apartment. Especially not types like Sylus. 

'That's nice. He deserves something good in his life.' "What?!" 'Are you still there?' You probably stayed silent with your jaw on the floor a little too long. Maybe you shouldn't be too surprised. When you showed Zayne a picture of Sylus he looked physically pained, but not in a fearful way. It was empathetic. 

'Yes, yes, I'm still here, sorry. I expected you to lecture me on inviting strange men into my apartment,' you admit. 

'I would, but I know this man. I think he's a good one,' Zayne admits, 'I'm glad you ran into him. Seems the type for you.' Fair enough. Zayne has listened to you whine about men often enough to be glad you're finally actually like one. There's a knock at your door and a rush of nerves goes through your system. 

'Oh, that must be him,' you tell Zayne, 'I'll call you later, okay? We still need to set a date for our annual trip.' 

'Sure. I'll talk to you later.' His voice sounds amused, almost like he's smiling through the phone. You feel a little flustered. He probably picked up on your tone change when you heard the knocks on the door. 

'Bye.' You put your phone in your pocket and walk towards the door, stopping in front of the hallway mirror to check yourself one last time. Outfit, comfy but cute. Hair, eh, good enough. Makeup, minimal but nice. You pull the door open to reveal Sylus in a barely buttoned black blouse and slacks. Now you feel awfully underdressed in your jeans. Are you sure you agreed on dinner and a movie at his place? This looks like he's taking you to a 3-star dining and rented the whole cinema. 

But, you should have known he was going to be dressed like that. After all, it was the same outfit he wore in his newest video. The one he posted today, earlier than he usually does. In a way, you feel like he did it to tease you. Especially since it wasn't all that erotic. It was just him sitting back against the headboard of his bed with a book in his hand, reading the most utterly horny smutty chapter you've ever heard in your damn life. It nearly made you fall off your chair running to your room to masturbate, but you decided against it. The night's still young after all. 

The chapter stuck with you though. Because it wasn't all that horny because of the actual sex happening, but more because of the love between the characters. To be desired so carnally, to be loved so openly, is a fucking turn on. 

'You look beautiful,' he notes, taking all of your thoughts away with one look. The way his eyes rake over you, you feel like you're a marble statue in a museum. Loved, admired, valued, but most of all, beautiful. A blush spreads on your cheeks. 

'Thank you. You look nice too.' 

'Just nice?' 

'Stunning.' The nerves don't calm down and you're not sure why. You've already had him in your bed, you kissed him, cuddled him, let him... Why are you blushing at the thought of it now? Is it because this is a proper date? It's not even that serious. It's just dinner and a movie at his place. 

'Ready?' He offers you his arm. You nod and place your hand on his forearm. It's awfully proper, but it does feel very nice to be treated so respectfully. 

'I have to say, I was expecting a kiss,' you admit. He grins and leans down to press a soft kiss on your lips. Nothing special, just a gentle greeting from a lover. 

A lover? No, more than that. It feels like home. Like you've been kissing his lips for years, but the spark is still there. Like this is how it's meant to be. Like he is completely and utterly in love with you, and you feel the same. 

Shit, you're in love. 

Sylus leads you into his apartment. The one time you were in there, you didn't really take in his decor. It's very much him. The whole place is made up of black, white, some dark wood tones, yet it still feels warm. It might be because he has taken a page out of your book with all the candles he's lit around the apartment. The dining table is set beautifully. There's red wine on the table already, along with a beautiful bouquet of deep red roses that look almost velvety. There's some music playing that feels slightly suggestive but not enough to comment on. 

'Wow, you really went all you,' you note. You feel his arm slip from your grasp and around your waist to pull you closer against him. He looks down at you with the lightest flicker of a big smile. 

'For you, I'd rearrange the stars if you asked me to. Now go sit down. Food will be ready in a bit.' 

Sylus stands behind the stove while you take a seat at the table. Of course, you take the seat across from the kitchen so you can watch him work. The way he slightly is swaying and softly humming along with the music is truly a vision to behold. A domestic vision. A vision of a future you'd like to live. 

He looks over his shoulder, seeing you leaning on your palm, elbow on the table, staring at him. You feel your cheeks heat up again but no urge to look away. Instead, you smile at him and he smiles back. He picks up the pan and walks over to the table, setting it down in the middle between the two plates.  

'Pasta alla Norma. Say when,' he says as he starts dishing out the food on your plate. You nod your head to him after a bit, having a very generous portion of pasta on your plate. He does the same for himself and grabs the wine to uncork it. All of it goes so smooth, so fluent, like every motion of his is perfected. 

And so is the food. It's not that special of a pasta dish but it's made so damn well. 'Is there anything you can't do,' you joke, 'I might just have to marry you right here and now.' His lips quirk into a smile. 

'Are you sure, sweetie? We barely know each other,' he teases back, 'what if I turn out to be a serial killer?' 

'Then I'd die a happy death.' Even though you are joking, somewhere in the back of your mind you know that it's true. You've never had a connection to anyone before like you have with him. It's new and exciting, but most of all it feels right. 

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The dinner is mostly uneventful, except that Sylus got some sauce on his clothes. He claimed it was because he was admiring you, but you saw him struggle to get the bite on his fork properly. However, this one time you decided not to tease him because you do want to cuddle up to him during the movie. 

At least, that was the plan. Pure innocent cuddling.  

Seems Sylus has different plans. You're sitting leaned against him, knees pulled up onto his lap, his arm around you, but for about ten odd minutes now his free hand has been tracing figured on your thigh. Each passing moment he seems to get a little bit closer to your inner thigh. 

The teasing gets you hot and bothered, which only makes Sylus smirk. You don't have to look up at him to know. He moves his other hand from your shoulder to your waist, his thumb gently rubbing your skin so that your shirt starts riding up until you feel his touch on your skin. 

That's when he shoves his other hand between your thighs, so close to your core, pulling a gasp from your lips. As you smack your hand in front of your mouth and look up, you can already feel Sylus’ laugh rumbling through his chest. You won't stand for that shit. 

With one swift movement, you sit yourself on his lap. Hands gently draped over his shoulders; hips so close to his but not quite close enough. He hooks his hands under your thighs and pulls you right on top of his bulge. The friction makes you gasp, but you try to keep a straight face. 

'We're not watching the movie, are we,' he asks suggestively. You move your hands to the buttons of his shirt and start undoing them slowly, one by one. In response, his hands start roaming over your hips, your thighs, they grace your ass and lower back. You feel yourself start to grind against him ever so slightly. It's almost involuntarily and gets more intense when you see how much Sylus is blushing while trying to keep a straight face. 

'Don't know why you're asking me. You're the one who started it.' Your hands get to the bottom button that you can still see. Instead of undoing it, you splay your hands out over his stomach, exploring all the skin you've freed as you rake your nails over the lean muscles on his stomach. 

'Mmm, I know sweetie, but consent is sexy,' he groans, moving his head towards your shoulder, he presses a kiss under your ear, 'do I have your consent?' 

'You do,' you say breathlessly, moving your hands behind his neck, entangling your fingers in his hair as you grind on him a little harder. He gently bites the spot he just kissed as a reply and grips your hips roughly, guiding you over him while he bucks up at you. His breathing becomes labored as you two dry fuck like a bunch of horny teenagers. 

He moves his head to kiss your lips. It's all tongue and teeth, desperately chasing a high. Somewhere in your mind you had expected Sylus to be cool, calm, collected when it comes to sex, but seeing him this excited because of you gives you confidence the likes of which you have never experienced. 

Suddenly, he drops his head back to your shoulder and bites down as his movements become less rhythmic. He stops moving all together and looks up at you with big eyes, staring up at you like you're made of pure stardust. 

'Did you just-' 

'Yes.' 

'Because-' 

'Because an angel was riding me.' A grin spreads across your face. He came in his pants like a fucking teenager because of you. That's so fucking hot. If he starts praising you any more you might just become a nightmare to deal with. 

'Wanna do it again without clothes?' 

'More than you could ever imagine.' He grabs your ass and stands up with you in his arms. A yelp slips from your lips as you quickly grab his shoulders. There's that smirk again. Shit, this could be the switch Olympics at this point, that way that you keep flipping. 

Being in Sylus’ bedroom is slightly strange. You've seen it from all angels before, even though you've never been there before. He lays you down on his bed and you see yourself looking back on the ceiling. For a second, your mind is completely lost until you realize that there's mirrors on his ceiling. Strangely, that doesn't surprise you in the slightest. 

Then, you see Sylus taking off his shirt. You prop yourself up on your elbows and watch him as he undoes the button on his jeans. A devious idea pops into your head and you grab his hand to stop him.  

He watches you intensively as you switch places with him so he is seated at the edge of the bed. His eagerness to touch you has a hold on him but he's trying so hard to let you do whatever. You take his hands and guide them to the hem of your shirt. Then, you slide them up. He quickly catches on and helps you take your shirt off, revealing a beautiful black lace bra. 

'Shit,' he cusses under his breath, tossing your shirt somewhere in the corner. His hands move to your jeans and undo the button and zipper. One peek at your matching undies has him groaning. He helps you step out of your jeans and grabs your hips gently, pulling you towards him. You put your hands on either sides of his face. His eyes are on yours, but they keep flickering down to your lips while his thumbs gently rub your hips. 'All this for me?' 

'All for you.' Your voice comes out sultry, seductive. Nothing you've ever sounded like before. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you against him, and kisses you slowly. 

'You look beautiful,' he mumbles against your lips, drunk off your body and the lingering thought of being inside it. He finally peels himself off your body and switches sides with you again. 'Lay down. I'll be right back.' 

'Don't leave me,' you whine as you grab his hand. He stops for a second, physically restraining himself. 

'Condom,' he says and lets go of your hand, disappearing into the bathroom. You decide to sit on your knees in the middle of the bed, eagerly awaiting his return while you soak through your panties. It takes him less than a minute to come back, and when he does his jeans are already off. You eye his bulge with your mouth slightly agape. Sure, you had seen it before, but everything looks smaller on a phone screen. He catches the worry in your eyes as he puts one knee on the bed to be closer to you. 'We don't have to-' 

'Shut up,' you quip, 'I'll be fine. Just go slow.' There's that grin again. With one hand, he reaches behind you and unhooks your bra with ease, with the other he hands you the condom, then he guides you onto your back. You try to take off your bra as you lay, but he grabs your hand and guides it to his hair. For a second, you don't understand but then he dips his head down and starts kissing your chest, slowly making his way over your clothed nipple and kissing it, leaving a wet spot on the lace. With his other hand he pushes the straps off your shoulders.  

Within seconds you are reduces to a whimpering, moaning mess. Your legs spread to make room for him and he gratefully takes his place between them. Sylus finally grabs the bra and removes it, joining it with your shirt and pants on the floor. His hand returns to your breast quickly, his hand gently massaging it while his lips make their way down lower. 

Slowly but surely, he reaches your panties and places lingering kisses just above them. Your hips buck up towards him and you hear the rumble of his rich chuckle. 'Sweetie, you know what you do to me. I fear I might not survive if I spend all my time between your legs.' 

'And I fear I might not survive if you don't fuck me right now,' you groan, giving a firm thug on his hair. You hear him gasp and it goes straight to your pussy. You cuss under your breath as you look down at the smug smile he wears. His fingers hook under your panties and pull them off. They join your other clothing on the floor. 

'You're soaked,' he notes, satisfied. 

'And you're not inside me yet.' Another rumbling laugh as he reaches for his own boxers and pulls them off in a swift motion. Shit, he's big and... are those- 

'They'll feel good. Trust me,' he promises as he watches you look at the two piercings making up his frenum ladder. You reach out to touch it and he lets you. He shivers under your touch as you run your hand over the metal beats on the underside of his dick. 

'One of these days I'm going to make you fuck me raw,' you say, not really realizing what you're saying as you're completely enamored with his dick and piercings. 

'You can't say stuff like that. I'm trying to go slow,' he almost gasps for air with every word and snatches the condom from your hand to quickly roll it on. You watch him lean over you, one of his hands firmly planted next to your head, the other guiding his cock towards your entrance. 

'Fuck slow.' You wrap your legs around him, pulling him towards you. He slips inside easily but goddamn it's a fucking stretch to say the very least. All you can hear is a mixed chorus of groans and gasps. He doesn't move his hips as his eyes study your face, fearing the discomfort he sees might be too much for you. However, you could care less. You feel so incredibly full and ecstatic to be spending the night with him that you might just burst right now. You reach out for him, grabbing his shoulders to pull him down for a kiss. 

'Are you alright,' he asks, holding off the kiss until he has your ok, 'I'm all the way in.' 

'I'm fine. Just kiss me and please move. I need it so fucking bad,' you beg. He does as you say, crashing his lips on yours as he sets a painfully slow tempo to get you used to him. You feel like you're going to snap if he keeps this up. 'Please move faster.' Your words sound more like a moan. 

'Are you sure, sweetie? You seem to be enjoying it just fine.' He looks down at you with pure amusement. Seems he's in a mood. You quickly shove his arm and manage to turn him on his back, not that he puts up much of a fight. 

'I thought you wanted me on top,' you tease back, sheeting yourself on his dick in one motion before he can even respond. Sylus lets out a low groan, throwing his head back and clawing at your hips for something to hold on to. 'Are you going to be a good boy for me and let me ride you?' 

'What happens if I say no.' 

'You'll have to find out.' He nods in response and makes himself comfortable on the pillows. You take that as your go ahead and set an absolutely feral pace. He was right about those piercings. They feel amazing.  

The horniest gasp you've ever heard slips from Sylus’ lips as he turns bright red in the face. His hands move down to your thighs, nails digging into your skin. You'll certainly have bruises tomorrow. 

'Does that feel good,' you ask him as you lean down a little, planting your hands on his chest, nails raking over his pecs. 

'Yes,' he moans, looking absolutely beautifully drunk on you. You feel your high approaching, as does he from what you can tell. He's so close to unraveling and it's beautiful. You wish you could capture this moment, keep this feeling bottled up on your nightstand.  

His hands move back to your hips as he suddenly plants his heels against the mattress and starts trusting up into you, hitting new highs deep inside of you. Highs that no one has ever hit before. Highs that you want him to hit each and every day. He's addicting. Your whole body is tingling as you lean closer towards him, trying to keep up with his pace while you kiss him. He seems too focused to kiss you properly. It's a mess of spit, biting, teeth clanking, and it's so fucking hot. You lick down his neck as you feel your high approaching so fucking fast. 

And there it goes. You hear an animalistic groan next to you, feel it rumble through his chest as his motions become sloppier. Your body topples over the edge and in a moment of absolute bliss, to suppress the absolutely vile sounds you make, you bite down on his shoulder. Hard. Sylus moans at the pain, grabbing your ass to push your body down against him, holding you in place speared on his cock. 

Waves of pleasure shake through your body as Sylus presses sweet kisses on top of your head. His hips move ever so slightly, helping you ride it out. Your eyelids start feeling heavy, your body is aching, your pussy is clenching up. 

'Are you alright?' Sylus voice is different now. It sounds almost worried. You release his shoulder from your bite and prop yourself up on his chest. 

'Peachy,' you reply with a hazy smile, 'wanna take a nap and do it again in a few hours?' 

There goes that rumbling laugh of his again. His hands start rubbing your back as he leans up to peck your lips. It's such an innocent gesture if you don't think about the fact that his dick is still inside you, twitching with every single tiny movement you make. 'As much as I would like that. Let's give it a few more hours and do it again in the morning. Deal?' 

'Only if we take a shower together.' 

'I'll do you one better. I have a tub.' 

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[crownofgildedlilies]

like a book

pairing: k. bakugou x reader wc: 1.7k slight spoilers? but also not really? takes place right after the hero licensing exam so do what you will with that information.

You're not exactly sure why people think Katsuki Bakugou is difficult to understand.

Yeah, you know he's difficult. He's stubborn and abrasive and constantly marching to the beat of his own drum, but he's predictable. He's not difficult to understand.

Katsuki Bakugou might be difficult, but you know exactly how to read him. You wouldn't be dating if you couldn't.

You know he works his damn hardest no matter what he does, whether it be hero training or cooking dinner. You know he prefers his math work over his English practice because he also does his math first. You know he considers Kirishima his best friend—he hesitates the longest when telling him hell no to hanging out past his bedtime.

And you know the fact that he failed his licensing exam and got on house arrest in the same twelve hours is eating him alive.

It's not like his punishment is truly brutal. He gets the chance to retake the licensing exam after remedial courses, so he'll be fine. You're pretty sure that he's more upset over the fact that he has to clean the dorms with Izuku Midoriya and miss out on three days of classes, if you're honest.

And because he's so easy to understand, you know exactly what your boyfriend is up to.

There's only so many square feet in the common room that he can oh so casually clean while you're working on coursework at the dining table, pencil end caught between your teeth in concentration. It's by his third pass of your workspace that you relent and lift your gaze to his impatient—and rather antsy—ruby eyes.

“Y’doing homework?” He asks, like you didn't have your notes and textbook spread out before you and he hadn't noticed the fact the second he walked into the room. It's hard to keep your grin at bay, but you mask your amusement with the suspicious look you pin him with.

Your pencil is freed from the cage of your teeth, only to be tapped rhythmically against the plush of your lips. You watch as Katsuki's stare attaches to the movement, but before the blush can settle fully into your cheeks, he betrays his true intentions with his next glance.

Katsuki Bakugou looks so innocently at your homework.

“Why are you being nice?” You sigh, your eyes still narrowed at him. Your question offends him, clearly, as he puffs out his chest and drops into the chair beside you. He's abandoning Izuku to clean the rest of the common room by himself, but you know he doesn't care.

“The hell you talking about?” He's huffing, and you don't have to force the roll of your eyes at his clueless act. Clearly, if he's pretending like he doesn't know what you're talking about, he's more desperate than you thought. "'M always nice."

“Last week you yelled at me because I was doing my work in the common area.” Granted, you know he only got worked up because he messed up during training and wanted to mope in his room with you, pretending like everyone still believed his big tough brute act.

“Shut up." His words don't have any bite to begin with, and any affect they could have possibly had is mitigated by the red flush burning the tips of his ears. "No I didn’t.”

“You did." You have to laugh. He's not even putting effort into his denial. He knows you just as well as you know him, so lying about it was futile. "And now you’re all…”

You wave a hand in a broad circle between the two of you, your palm splayed out to face him while gesturing to how he's sitting with his body leaned towards you and face twisted into a pout.

“All what?” He grits out, and you have to bite your lip to hide your grin as you realize that if anyone but you tried to push his buttons, he would have long since snapped. But you know how to read Katsuki, and you know his patience multiplies tenfold when it comes to you.

It's a fact you only abuse a little bit.

“You know what you are." You snicker, spotting the way his fingers—stretched subtly on the table—brush against the edges of the assignment you had been working on. You really you can't beat around the bush any longer. "You’re trying to look at the homework, aren’t you?”

“‘M not, dumbass." He deflects, lying through his teeth. His hand shoots away from your papers, and you're pretty sure he's trying to distract you when he sets that same hand on top of your knee. It half works. "Why would I want that?”

“Because you’re stuck on house arrest and worried about falling behind.”

“I’m not behind!” The hand he set on your knee pinches you, and you swat at him in reprimand while simultaneously throwing your own hands up in defense of your innocence.

“I’m not saying you are." You assure him, voice gentle. You're not distracted enough by Katsuki to not notice how his outburst garnered the attention of your classmates, but beyond a cursory glance, they don't pay you any mind. They may not be able to read Katsuki as well as you can, but even they know he'd never do anything to hurt you. "And I’m not letting you look at my homework. Mr. Aizawa would kill me.”

“Stop being dramatic.” He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. He tries to pin you with a glare, but you meet his challenge head on and not once have you ever backed down. He's told you it's one of the reasons he fell for you, and you know he's telling the truth.

“Then after I was dead, he’d expel me.”

“What the hell.” He slumps back in his chair, frowning. You're surprised it took him so long to realize you wouldn't budge on sharing your homework assignments with him after being explicitly told not to by Mr. Aizawa, but it just tells you how determined he was.

“Sorry, Katsu." You sigh, picking up your pencil and twirling it around your fingers. You're not mean enough to start working on the assignment in front of him, but you're near enough to the end that you're eager to get back to focus. "But also not, because you’re the moron that snuck out to fight.”

“You said you understood.” He's pouting, moping, and you sigh deeply. The morning after he snuck out and earned his house arrest punishment, he showed up at your dorm door and explained what he could. Apparently, he had promised Izuku he wouldn't tell anyone everything that they had talked about, and you had told him you understood.

And now, sitting beside you, he looks enough like a kicked puppy that you can't help but set your hand on his cheek to tilt his face towards you. Your gently hand is placed more towards his ear, thumb brushing over his cheekbone once, and you swear you feels him press just slightly into you palm while his eyes turn softer.

Of course, you know he'd flush bright red and stumble over an excuse if you ever dreamed of voicing what you observed.

“I understand needing to talk things out with Izuku, and I understand when you say you can’t tell me what you guys discussed." You tell him, voice even and quiet so no one but him can hear you. Slowly, you slide your hand to the back of his head and tug on his hair hard enough to break the trance he was in. His glare is worth it, especially since the sight causes the edge of your lips to tug upwards into a grin. "I don’t understand the fighting. You’ve known Izuku since kindergarten.”

You press a kiss to the cheek opposite than you were holding to soothe the burn of your words, and he groans in defeat when you drop your hand back to your lap.

“Stop calling him Izuku." He mumbles out, trying to play off the fact that his face was flushing bright red from your scant few displays of affection. "Damn nerd.”

“You’re a moron.” You roll your eyes, leaning back in your seat while still have your body twisted to face him.

“The hell?” He snaps from his cheek-kiss drunk daze at your insult, though insults are practically the currency of romance in your relationship.

“You’re trying to be nice and sappy so I’ll let you look at my homework, but I know you better than that.”

“Shut up." He defends. You raise a brow in a silent challenge, smirk curving your lips. You even go so far as leaning your elbow on the table, chin tucked in your palm, so you can study him closely. He folds within seconds. "One page.”

“Not a chance.”

“C’mon—”

“Since you’re on garbage duty," You nod your head in the direction of the plastic bag he had been toting around before arriving at your table, shutting down his attempt at protesting your refusal. "Can you empty the bin in my room?”

“No, the hell?” He questions, but he's already standing from his chair. Your boyfriend is a smart man, and you know the only defeat he's willing to accept is when it comes to you.

“I will!" Izuku overhears your question while darting around the room, and eagerly offers. You know it's nothing more than from the kindness of his heart, but you also know your boyfriend will manage to see it as a form of competition. "I’m taking the rest of the trash out now.”

“Thanks, Izuku—” You grin, a giggle interrupted by Katsuki's huff, which turns it into a full laugh.

“Forget it, I’ll grab it." He's standing by your chair, glaring at Izuku, who gets the message and darts off throughout the common room to remind everyone else to bring out their garbage. And even though Izuku is long gone, you still hear your boyfriend mumbling to himself. “Got no reason to be going into your room; fucking nerd.”

You snort, tugging his arm so that he bends down far enough to let you kiss him sweetly. He obliges, but you can tell he's still eyeing your homework longingly. It's almost enough to make you roll your eyes.

“Thanks Katsuki." You hum as he goes on his way, but he lingers long enough to press a second kiss to the top of your head, followed shortly by a mumbled complaint. Though, he's still doing exactly as you asked of him.

“Damn brat.”

You can read him like a book, and you have him wrapped around your finger.

[rednecknerdguy]

Nifty difty fun fact from your local Exmormon former Missionary here: The more you are immersed in your language you are assigned to learn, the more you will learn it!

“But Rednecknerdguy” you, the mysterious person I invented to make a point says, “But what if I live in the middle-of-nowhere Alabama?”

“My sweet summer ethereal entity made entirely out of whole cloth” I respond lovingly, the way a parent is a child, “I knocked on your door. You see, in the summer heat of Alabama, the state with the worst immigration laws, I became fluent in Spanish.”

While going to the Mormon Missionary Training Center does help jump start your experience in learning a language, the only thing that can really force you to develop is total, complete immersion.

When I was in a companionship (aka, they gave us a roomate we had to stay with the whole time, it was a lot like getting married, but without the sex and I didn’t get a choice of buddy and we worked from 6:30 am all the way to 10:30) that was completely Spanish speaking, we used it all the time. We listened to Latino music, ate latinoamericano cuisine, congregated with Latin American folk, ran church in Spanish, went to fiestas y bodas y bautizos etc you get the picture. We ate, slept, drank, and breathed our new language.

(Figure 1: A missionary team immersing themselves in the language and totally not a weird Mormon themed porno GIF I found on the GIF browser and thought it was hilarious)

So, if you want to learn mandarin (which is what I am doing now) you have to enter the MANDARIN ZONE. Make it as easy as possible for your brain to be FORCED to learn Mandarin. Turn on CCTV or a C-drama (Eternal Love of Dream is the most popular C-drama of all time and it’s free on YouTube). Turn your phone to mandarin and stare at the pictograms. Watch kids education shows and read Chinese picture books, work your way up, reading out loud to yourself as if you are reading out loud to your kiddo.

(Also, holy shit there are so many NSFW GIFs in the browser now, did I miss something or was I too-Mormon-pilled to see them?)

Find someone to practice with. If you can’t, record yourself speaking and listen to it. Converse with yourself if you have to. Your brain is a cool little meat sack and it WILL force you to learn Mandarin if it has to.

When you aren’t doing that, read on Chinese history, learn to write in a script, not just pinyin. When you improve, start reading actual Chinese literature and write essays on it. Write back to 里话, your Chinese “pen pal” and tell him about your life.

You’ll do more than just gain a language: you’ll start to understand culture. That’s the true dividing line of “fluency” and Fluency. While you won’t have the same knowledge and experience of one whose native-born, and you shouldn’t treat yourself as some white savior “Last of the Mohicans”-Mormon Missionary-pasty-mayonnaise-colored-motherfucker, trust me, I would know, but you will have gained a level of insight and empathy most Americans (if you are American) couldn’t even hope to dream of.

I may never grow up mestizo, jegar a ser un inmigrante, jego a ser un ciudadano por un otro país, but I can empathize and comprehend it, at least as best as I can, having chosen to understand and appreciate the language and culture. So, thanks Old Geezers at the Head of the Mormon Church, I guess?

And for the love of Mormon Jesus, You Should Immersion Learn Yourself Now!

Absolutely out of my mind delighted by how many Mandarin teachers on Little Red Book (RedNote?) are putting out videos and doing livestreams teaching non-Mandarin-speaking ex-TikTokers how to speak the language 🥹 I've made more progress in language learning today than I had in four months of language apps 😂

[multi-stays]

Shoulda Been Me

Paring: Idol!Roommate Han Jisung/FemReader

Genre: smut 18+ MDNI/ kinda angsty

Summary: When an on-and-off sexual relationship with Minho takes a turn, your roommate Jisung decides he's had enough.

Note: A smut collab with @inkandtension love ya😘

💜✨Warnings below the cut✨💜

Warnings: slight angst, unprotected sex, oral sex (F Receiving), cussing, asshole Minho, nipple play, hickeys, making out, dry humping

The late afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows of your shared apartment, catching the flecks of dust floating lazily in the air. You sat curled up on the couch, a book in hand, though your eyes skimmed over the words without absorbing them. The feeling in your chest—a mix of loneliness and quiet yearning—had been gnawing at you all day.

Jisung, your roommate, emerged from his room, headphones slung around his neck and a notepad in his hand. His unruly hair and slightly disheveled appearance betrayed hours spent hunched over his desk, working on his latest track. He looked up and grinned when he saw you.

"Still on that same page, huh?" he teased, plopping down on the couch next to you.

You smiled faintly, closing the book. "Yeah, I guess I’m a little distracted."

Jisung tilted his head, studying you. His voice softened. "What’s going on? You seem... off."

"It’s nothing," you said quickly, not wanting to drag him into your mess.

Jisung didn’t press, though the way his gaze lingered told you he wasn’t convinced. Instead, he nudged your arm playfully. "Alright, but don’t forget—ramen night tonight. I’m making my specialty."

You laughed softly. "Your specialty is adding a slice of cheese."

"Exactly. A masterpiece," he said, grinning.

His lightheartedness eased some of the weight in your chest, but it didn’t completely go away. Later, when your phone buzzed with a message from Minho, your heart sank and soared at the same time.

Come over, it read.

The words were as blunt as always. No greeting, no questions about your day—just an order. You stared at the screen for a moment, debating whether to reply. Against your better judgment, you found yourself grabbing your bag.

"Heading out?" Jisung asked as you slipped on your shoes.

"Yeah," you muttered.

"Minho?" he guessed, his tone carefully neutral.

You nodded, avoiding his eyes. Jisung didn’t say anything, but you caught the way his expression hardened slightly before he looked away.

Minho’s apartment was cold, both in temperature and atmosphere. He greeted you at the door with a nod, barely making eye contact.

It was the same routine as always—no small talk, no warmth. You sat awkwardly on the edge of his couch while he disappeared into his room for a moment.

"Come on," he said when he returned, gesturing for you to follow.

And you did.

**

"I don’t think I can keep doing this," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Minho glanced at you, frowning. "What are you talking about?"

"This... whatever this is. I want more, Minho."

He scoffed, sitting up. "I told you from the start I’m not looking for anything serious. You knew what this was."

Your chest tightened. "I thought maybe..." You paused, tears welling in your eyes. "I thought you’d change your mind."

Minho sighed, running a hand through his hair. "This is exactly why I don’t do relationships. You’re too sensitive. If you can’t handle it, maybe we should stop."

His words stung like a slap. You blinked back tears, sitting up. "You’re right. Maybe we should."

"Fine," he said, grabbing his jacket. "I’m going out. Let yourself out."

You stayed in his bed for a moment, feeling a mix of anger and heartbreak. Then you pulled yourself together and left, your mind clouded with regret and humiliation.

The apartment was unusually quiet when you stepped inside, the door clicking softly behind you. Your hands trembled as you clutched your bag, your face streaked with tears that refused to stop falling. You felt like a raw nerve, your confrontation with Minho replaying in your mind like a broken record.

You barely made it to the couch before your legs gave out, your body curling into itself as the sobs you’d been holding back finally escaped. You buried your face in your hands, the ache in your chest threatening to consume you entirely.

"Y/N?"

You froze at the sound of Jisung’s voice, your breath hitching. You hadn’t even heard his door open. When you glanced up, he was standing in the hallway, his expression shifting from confusion to immediate concern.

"What happened?" he asked, hurrying over to kneel in front of you.

You shook your head, trying to brush it off. "It’s nothing, Jisung. I’m fine."

"Fine?" he echoed, his voice tinged with disbelief. "You’re crying on the couch in the middle of the night, and you want me to believe you’re fine?"

You looked away, your fingers clutching at the fabric of your jeans. He was too close, his gaze too intense.

"Y/N," he said softly, his hand resting gently on your knee. "Talk to me. Please."

Something in his voice broke the dam inside you. The words spilled out in a messy, tear-filled confession—everything about your arrangement with Minho, how he treated you, how you felt used and unseen. How you’d hoped things would change but had finally realized they wouldn’t.

By the time you finished, your voice was hoarse, and Jisung’s expression was a mix of fury and heartbreak. He let out a sharp breath, running a hand through his hair as he stood.

“Too sensitive? Is he for real? He’s the insensitive bit-“ he stopped, his voice low but shaking with emotion. "He treated you like that? And you just... let him?"

You flinched at his words, but he softened immediately, crouching down again to meet your eyes. "No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just... God, Y/N, you deserve so much better than this."

You sniffled, wiping at your eyes. "It’s not like I had other options, Jisung. I thought... I don’t know what I thought."

He stared at you for a long moment, his jaw tightening. Then, with a surprising steadiness, he said, "If you needed a good fuck, why didn’t you come to me? At least I’d treat you the way you deserve."

Your head snapped up, your eyes wide. "What?"

"I’m serious," he said, his tone firm yet gentle, though tinged with something heartbreakingly sad. "I’ve been right here, Y/N. And I would never—never—make you feel like this. You deserve someone who sees you, who cares about you. Someone who actually listens."

You stared at him, speechless. There was something in his eyes—something raw and unguarded—that made your heart skip a beat.

"Jisung..."

He stepped closer, his hands finding your shoulders as he leaned in, his breath warm against your cheek. His fingers slid gently over the curve of your shoulder, trailing up to caress the side of your head, his thumb brushing your temple with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

"Darlin’," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, yet heavy with emotion. His forehead rested against yours for a fleeting moment, his other hand cupping your jaw as though afraid you might pull away. "Let me take care of you, just once. Please. Let me show you what it’s supposed to feel like."

His hands lingered on your face, warm and steady, cradling you with a care that felt out of place for him. His thumbs brushed your cheeks, his touch soft, almost hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if you’d let him stay there. His tone was quiet, carrying just the faintest tremor, and his eyes stayed fixed on yours, searching for something he didn’t say.

All your adrenaline surged through you at once and maybe what happened next was inevitable, with the way he stared into your soul and his comment earlier that went straight to your core, you kissed your roommate.

You hoped it wasn't a mistake, you didn't want to lose what you already had with Jisung but you were so needy. His fervent kiss slowly took you away from the corner of the couch you were crying in and made you feel something you never felt before.

His kisses were slow and his movements were all carefully thought of, putting a hand in yours and the other on the back of your head, slowly leaning into you forcing you to lay flat on the couch.

With the new angle, you could feel his erection through his pants, pressing into your leg and throbbing with each kiss.

By now if Minho was hard he'd already be ruthlessly fucking into you, stripping you naked like you were some whore he picked up off the street and treating you like a dog.

But Jisung was gentle and his thoughts completely away from himself, even if that meant he'd cum in his pants without you ever touching him.

His hand trailed down to your breast, slipping under your shirt to massage it bare, his warm soft hands making it so pleasurable.

The slow grinding of his cock into your clit made you buck up into him, his hips matching your rhythm as you both humped each other.

“This is still ok right?” he asked, stopping his movements just for a moment to look at you, eagerness filling his eyes.

“Please, don't stop” you moaned, putting your hand between the two of you to strip your shirt off.

The sight of your bare nipples sent Jisung over the moon and he couldn't stop himself from attaching his lips to one, the other being pinched between his fingers.

He swirled his tongue around your nipple making your whole body shiver. His other hand made its way to your face, caressing your cheek with the back of his hand before bringing them up to your mouth for you to suck, which you instinctually did without thought.

Moans straight from Jisung’s hard penis shot straight up to his mouth and into your nipple, the vibrations making your mind go fuzzy and your nails dig into his back.

His lick soon stopped as he trailed his kisses up to the top of your breast, rolling your skin between his teeth and sucking hard every now and then. You knew he was trying to leave a hickey and you were fine with having his mark, hoping you could flaunt it in front of Minho sometime.

“Such a pretty purple spot on you,” he said pulling his fingers out of your mouth and rubbing the spit on his hickey that sat perched just below your collarbone.

“Can you take my pants off, Please?” you asked, lifting your groin in the air so he could easily slip it off.

He delicately hooked his fingers on the waistband of your pants and slid them down to your feet so you could kick them the rest of the way off. You weren't wearing any underwear so there you were, bare and naked in front of him and he loved every minute of it, eyes darting from your wet folds to your pretty clit that was waiting for him.

He spread your legs open wider. “God you're gorgeous,” he said leaning down, his breath hitting your glistening folds. “I think I'll just,” he planted his tongue on your clit, kissing it softly. “Give you a few kisses first,” he smirked devilishly against your wet skin, spreading you open to slowly start sucking your hole.

You arched your back at the feeling, you've never had oral sex performed on you before. Obviously, you did it to Minho more times than you'd like to admit, but now you were seeing why he liked it so much.

His kissing and sucking made you forget everything about Minho, now only focusing on his lips sucking you.

You propped yourself up on your one hand, getting a better view of him covered in your slick, a particularly large string of your white essence running from his mouth to his neck.

Soon he started sucking hard on your messy folds and you couldn't help but tangle your free hand in Jisung’s messy curls, a small moan escaping his lips when you pulled a bit too hard, edging and pushing him deeper into your vagina.

He nuzzled his face deep within you, looking down at him between your legs you could tell he was just as lost as you, spit and your juices still running down his chin and he couldn't care any less.

His eyes were shut, but he knew very well what spots to suck, your folds plopping out of his mouth so he could focus on your clit.

“Fuck Jisung, please stop” you said, arching into his face. He almost jumped when he heard the words escape your lips. Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, he looked at you almost petrified searching for an answer.

“Did I hurt you? Are you uncomfortable? Am I not any good?” thousands of thoughts filled his mind hoping he did nothing wrong.

“No” you laughed, “I just want you in me before I orgasm, that's all.”

You sat up from where you were lying and chased him into a kiss, slowly undoing his belt as you both stood up, his hands cupping your face as he let you pull his belt out.

You could feel Jisung’s sigh of relief in the kiss as he fiddled with his pants, taking them off quickly and bringing his hands back up to your cheeks.

Jisung kissed you deeply, guiding both of you safely into his bedroom and closing the door with his foot. You layed down on the bed as you waited for Jisung to join you. He scurried over to his bedstand and got out a condom, pulling it open with his teeth and sliding it over his cock.

“Ji”

You looked at him innocently but your intentions were far from it.

“Can we try maybe without the condom?”

His eyes widened and his penis twitched as he slipped the condom off, visibly affected by the thought of being in your bare vagina.

“If that's what you want then I’ll gladly oblige, tonight's about you.”

You shook your head yes, eagerly wanting to feel his cock raw.

He tossed the condom in his small trash bin beside his bed and pumped his cock a few times, getting it lubed up so it would slide in easier.

Seeming he's already seen you naked you didn't feel shy spreading your legs open so he could stand between them. He slid his hands up your stomach and rubbed his thumbs across your soft skin “I'm gonna take care of you.”

Looking down you see his long cock in his hand, slipping it perfectly through your wet folds and in your aching hole.

The feeling of you bottoming him out left Jisung feeling fuzzy, head lulling back with a low groan.

“You take me so well y/n, fuck so tight” he said, as he started to move, putting his hands on your waist for support and pushing in. His cock fit you perfectly, not too small and not too big, unlike Minho’s.

The pain Minho brought you was far worse than any love he could have given you, physically and mentally he exhausted you. Especially towards the end, there was no way you could've loved him.

Now you just wanted to relax, fully letting yourself forget about him and focus only on Jisung. Feel his cock head drag across your spongy walls, his cute face heaving into your ear with each hard thrust.

When Jisung was about to orgasm he dug his pretty nails that were painted matte black into your skin, the stinging of him pushing deeper made it clear to you that he was there, walls fluttering around him as you felt his release fill you up.

“Fuck Ji it feels so good, don't stop please,” you said, grinding your hips into his sloppy thrusts, squelching sounds filling the room as you both rode out your high.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked, referring to his head that was now comfortably placed between your boobs, his arm around your torso, snuggling you tightly.

“No Ji, this is perfect” you said, placing your hand in his and playing with the now very messy tangle of curls in front of you.

Jisung let out a sigh of relief and sunk deeper into your bare skin, breathing in your soft perfume that was still lingering on your skin, a slight tinge of sweat mixed with it.

“Does this mean we can talk about us in a dating kinda way?”

“Im kinda tired right now but we can talk about us tomorrow Ji” you said, hoping you didn't hurt his feelings.

But he didn't answer, looking down his eyes were shut and his hand that once drew a small circle on your skin stopped.

He must've been more tired than he realized, you thought smiling to yourself as you too drifted off to sleep, safe in Jisung’s embrace.

[alastor-x-reader-stories]

Could you do a one-shot where alastor is super nervous when meeting reader, not really on his face but more his body language where when she shakes his hand he continues shaking it or doesn't let go immediately. nervous smile too lol, thanks love your stuff!!

Heeey I wrote it hope you don't mind some interpretation on my part! You didn't mention why Alastor was nervous so I just did whatever ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Tags: Oblivious Alastor, Cartoonist Writer, Humor, awkward affection, Alastor is either oblivious or in-denial, Nifty is Nifty and you should all love her

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

Alastor’s introduction to you was not a willing one. Charlie had started a bit of a bookclub at the Hotel as some odd attempt at bonding. Alastor wanted no part of it, but after the 532nd time Charlie asked him he said something particularly scathing and the princess was cruel and told Vaggie, and the ex-exorcist would NOT stop stabbing his door until he finally relented.

Of course, his choice of book was one called ‘Blank’. It was a notebook with nothing written in it. Very easy to discuss at a bookclub.

Charlotte was not impressed and Vagatha once again starting throwing vague threats in his direction. How tempted he was to just kill both of them, but alas this hotel has been the greatest form of entertainment he’s had in years (is what he tells himself.)

Darling Nifty came to his rescue, offering up a variety of different light-reading to be discussed in the future. Most of which were….not to his taste. Nifty’s interests highlighted most definitely, but Alastor quickly chucked the books out the window when the story turned to ….that.

As the number of books dwindled, he was just about prepared to give up on this stack entirely and fetch something meaningless to pretend to read (who’d check, anyway?).

He picked up one, a flimsy comic-book like thing and rolled his eyes once before giving it a go. The story wasn’t anything particularly interesting. The plot was just two bunnies going to get some ice cream. But the wordplay, the exaggeration of all the smallest obstacles, how self-aware and absurd it was gave him a good laugh. The Radio Demon’s first introduction to your work.

Although the bookclub idea ended up going nowhere, Alastor found himself seeking out more of your works. Another about a man just making a taco, one about a woman folding her laundry. So many little, day-to-day situations amplified to a ridiculous amount. Clever one-liners and humorous puns sprinkled throughout kept it intelligent enough for him to maintain interest despite the absurdity of it all.

Eventually he got a cartoon you drew that seemed just the same as the rest. Some random cute cartoon raccoon drawing some random little cartoon things. There was a scene in it though that stuck to Alastor’s mind (and dare he say, heart) like glue.

In it, the raccoon was confronted by a shark. “Why do you bother making these?” the shark sneered “No one reads these but you, no one looks at them but you, there’s no point.”

“Why does there need to be a point?” The raccoon said. Alastor’s ears straightened up on their own accord as he read “Even if no one sees it, it’s something I made and it’s some I enjoyed making.”

“Even if you put it out there, no one will care about it.”

“Someone will. They might not say anything but there’ll always be at least one.”

“Do you know how stupid you sound? No one gives a crap about your ‘passions’!”

“I do.”

“Do you know how stupid you sound-“

And then the raccoon pressed a button and an anvil fell onto the shark, comedically turning it into a pancake. “Your argument doesn’t have any depth.” The raccoon said. The story moved on from there.

It struck a bit of a chord with Alastor, he could admit that much to himself. And the raccoon’s way of dealing it was something he’d keep in mind for his next encounter with an annoyance. He didn’t put much stock in it, as storytellers and their stories don’t always agree on all things.

Your comics were a little joyful distraction when he needed them, that was all. Nothing deep and profound.

“BOSS!”

Alastor slammed shut the book he was reading, his grin never faltering though his twitching ears indicated a slight nervousness. He tilted his head in acknowledgement. “Hello, Nifty! Did you need something?”

Nifty scamped up his chair and onto his lap, settling down andstaring up at him with her one big eye. “BOSS BOSS BOSS BOSS I MET THE DEMONESS WHO DRAWS THOSE CARTOONS YOU LIKE”

Alastor’s eye twitched “Oh? Well, that’s neat.”

She stood up, squishing his face between her hands and stared more as her grin grew wider and more manic “Did you want to meet her?”

Yes

“Now, now, Nifty.” Alastor said as he removed her hands from his face “There’s better ways to waste one’s time.”

Nifty tilted her head, staring at him as though it would allow her to see into his mind. Her expression shifted into….One he hadn’t seen on Nifty, admittedly. The best way he could describe it was ‘smug’. But what would she have to be smug about?”

“If you say so, Boss!” She chirped, hopping off his lap and trotting off “But yeah I was at the Evermore Book-Store and she was there working ‘cause I guess that’s what she does for a livng….” Nifty’s voice faded away as the little maid walked off, not caring her rambling were being said to no one.

After Alastor had finished his errands for the day, he happened by that very store…for…Reasons. Upon entering it, he realized he had no idea who- what- he was looking for. The store itself wasn’t large. A couple patrons, one large hulking demon with tiny spectacles at the desk and a much smaller one organizing shelves.

One of the workers, then?

Not that he cared.

“Pardon me!” Alastor chirped to the desk demon. Their big eyes seemed to move in slow motion to him, a low grunt accompanying the acknowledgement. “I’m looking for someone, yes? The author of some silly comics?”

The demon slowly narrowed their eyes, lips curling up into a snarl as a growl emanated from them.

“Ah, so she is here?”

The demon planted their very large hands on the desk, pushing themselves up to stand at their full height. They were taller than Alastor by a good three feet, and much more muscular as well. Their nostrils flared, blowing hot air into his face.

Alastor wasn’t the slightest bit phased. (He found it funny, actually). “So may I speak to her?”

The large demon opened up their gaping jaw-

“That’s me, hi! How can I help you?” The shelf-stacking demon interrupted, getting between Alastor and the clerk demon. A nervous little lady with a wobbly unsure smile and bags under her eyes that looked like they could carry the entirety of Hell in them.

Alastor held up one of your comics- a book that has been very obviously well-read “You’re the creator of these splendid little things?”

“Splendid…?” You repeated him, trailing off into an amused snort “Er. Yeah, I wrote and drew those.” The Clerk behind you closed their mouth, setting back down on their chair and adjusting their spectacles. The glare didn’t leave Alastor.

“Well, my dear, I find I quite enjoy them! It’s quite a pleasure to meet you.” Alastor said, not paying the larger (glowering) demon any mind. He found himself wondering why you were so tired and so timid. A woman like you should be so much more cheerful! Alastor was a tad offended….Because you weren’t smiling like he did. That’s it. Really.

“Well. I’m glad you like them.” You said. “It’s nice to meet you, too.” You offered your hand for him to shake.

One of his ears twitched. You must be fairly new to Hell, to offer a handshake so easily. Or perhaps a bit sheltered or on the naïve side. Alastor briefly considered making a sly deal to take your soul, but… Well, there was no need for that.

He took your hand and gave it a firm shake. Your hand was so much smaller than his own, but it felt as though it warmed his entire body. This was strange. Perhaps you were casting some spells on him? Why was he finding it so hard to focus- why did he feel like he didn’t know what to say next- why-

The Clerk gripped Alastor’s arm in between two fingers, gently but assertively pulling it away from you. You took half a step back, cradling your arm to your chest as if he burned you. Alastor glared up at the Clerk “Is there a problem?”

The large demon growled. You intervened again “Er….You were just. Holding my hand for a while. It was……kind of weird.”

“Ah.” Alastor cleared his throat, straightening his posture with a flourish “My apologies! Mind was elsewhere, you know how it is with us creative types.”

You blinked. Then your timid smile turned a bit more confident. A bit more…like a smirk. “Er. Yeah, I guess so. Well. See you around, I guess?”

“If I have the time, I suppose!” Alastor grinned “Well then, I must be off! Ta-ta!”

You watched as the strange demon disappeared into shadows and slivered off. As soon as all trace of him was gone, you laughed quietly into your hand “Well, I can certainly say for certain I know someone ‘awkward as hell’ now.”

Your friend groaned, gently pushing you over as they continued their own work.

[contrarianwitt]

okay i saw a post talking about ronan in the dreamer triology only really viewing “his people” as his brothers and adam, and not gansey anymore which like deeply hurts don’t get me wrong i wanna cry but i think it’s so interesting for their characters:

the biggest reason i think is because the dreamer trilogy can technically be read as a stand alone and gansey isn’t in it a lot, it wouldn’t make sense to mention him tons (this does annoy me a bit when this happens, not that i want like a fan-servicey mention every three seconds but it’s frustrating when you have four books of friendship and then it’s just abandoned, like even if it’s a standalone, it’s also a spinoff yk?)

but more interestingly, i think it goes to show the level of trust ronan has in gansey living.

the only way ronan survived after niall’s death was focusing on gansey as a guide and being his protector. he fervently dreams cures for stings for a guy destined to die, and attaches all of his worth and purpose onto gansey.

but now, gansey lived and will live, and doesn’t need ronan anymore to save him. it’s so bittersweet because they still are brothers and love each other but it will never be the same anymore

ronan views adam and his brothers as his sole responsibility and himself as their protector, while he knows that gansey will live and keep living, and that blue will be there to love and protect him. of course he holds a little resentment towards them for leaving, but i think he knows that gansey needs to move on, which is why he almost disregards gansey and doesn’t trouble him with any of his problems.

i don’t think it’s a case of ronan forgetting gansey or loving him any less. it’s just that they are not eachothers responsibility anymore. (but i still imagine the guilt gansey would feel after learning what’s happened to ronan…)

[sporadicallyanenthusiast]

First of all, let me just thank you for taking the time to explain all of these points! There were many contexts here I didn't know about and it helps make more sense of the story! So thank you so much ❤️

And the thing about Ancient Greek and color is really fascinating! Kudos to the people that first began translating the ancient texts, because oh boy! Hahaha @mari--lace also mentioned in the replies how it is not a consensus on Athena's eye color either. I've only ever heard about the "wine colored sea" point, but never had the thought to dig deeper and learn more. I am definitely going to change that hahaha There are so many interesting things to learn, no wonder so many scientists have been studying the topic for centuries.

I'll have to admit, our poor Menelaus really did suffer a lot, dear Gods. Since my first contact with him was through the Odyssey and some fandom posts, sometimes I forget Agamemnon was his brother. And yes, as much as he loved Odysseus, learning about your brother's death like that can't be easy to digest. And the timeline of how long he stayed shipwrecked was a little fuzzy to me, so it makes sense that after 7 years, his memory would be hazy! I see what you mean when you refer to it as a vision/dream now. I didn't know Aegisthus had them exiled either, so that definitely adds even another layer to the hell Menelaus' life was at that time! We talk so much about Odysseus' hardships, but oh my, poor Mene didn't catch a break either, I'm appalled 😰 I have yet to wrap my mind around the fact the the poems were supposed to be performed out loud as well. A lot of the narrative choices make way more sense when you remember that, it's not just a regular book. I suppose that is why some things sound jarring when you read it for the first time.

And yes! Oh my, I never thought the texts would be so expressive and so warm, you know? We tend to have this idea that people from different times were too cold and distant, but they were still human at the end of the day. Of course they'd be affectionate to the ones they loved! And to be honest, it reminds me of when I read Sherlock Holmes for the first time. It really caught me by surprise how Sherlock and Watson were described and how they talked about each other in such a loving way. I don't know when we stopped writing platonic relationships so beautifully like that, but it truly is a loss to modern literature, in my humble opinion.

And I had no idea about Odysseus' own prophecy! I did know he tried to avoid going to war, but I just assumed it was because he had a newborn son and wanted to be there for Penelope. In that scenario, it really is fair to point out Menelaus trying to warn them wouldn't change much. On that note, Athena herself also told Telemachus Odysseus was alive and he didn't believe her, the Wisdom Goddess hahaha I hadn't thought about that before, but it really does illustrate how hopeless all of them were. If Telemachus didn't believe Athena, you're right, he wouldn't really care about Menelaus' letter either.

I knew about the law of Xenia, so I assumed that was the only reason stopping them from sending the suitors away. I admit I was a tad bit confused why Telemachus didn't force the suitors to leave once he outright had Athena's and Zeus' blessing, so your explanation really helped me make sense of everything!

It's such a nice and sweet detail to have Telemachus and Odysseus going through their journeys at the same time (Telemachus' first journey and Odysseus' last journey, even!), only to meet again at home and taking back control of their palace together. Maybe I teared up a bit, can't deny nor confirm hahahahaha

You are still way more knowledgeable on the topic, and your academic background gives a perspective other people might not have. So I think it's fair to call you as such 🥰❤️

Oh, I see! Sorry, I'm a bit too anxious at times and end up worrying too much that I gave the wrong impression or was rude by accident hahaha

This has been a lovely discussion indeed! Once again, thank you so much for being so kind to explain everything, I'll definitely be reading the books with new perspectives and insights!

Telemachus is so much stronger than me for real. Cause if I had traveled for days, by sea AND land, arrived at the palace of my father's friend and my mother's cousin to humbly ask if they know anything about my missing father and instead of just fucking telling me already, this mf started a monologue about how gay he is for my dad and about the time he captured a God that granted him wishes three, I'd already be telling him to Hurry The Fuck Up. IT'S BEEN TEN YEARS, I DON'T HAVE ALL DAY.

But if the same motherfucker then turned around and told me that he had known FOR YEARS NOW that my dad is trapped on an island AND THE MOTHERFUCKER DIDN'T TELL ANYONE!!!! NOT A SINGLE LETTER!!! I would have already strangled Menelaus with that fucking blond hair of his in front of his wife and children, unhelpful son of a bitch.

[afreakingdork]

Weak Spot Donnie Ref Sheet

Y'all genuinely have no idea how happy I am right now. With many, many years of work, the Weak Spot Donatello ref sheet is finally done and @garbagemilkshake is truly one of the greatest people to ever grace this planet. I say with full honesty that WS would not have near the same visual impact without their art. Now that this treasure is finally a reality, I'm holding nothing back. Below I breakdown all kinds of detail about what you see above and all I can say before that is thank you to each and every one of you who've been kind enough to read my work! This one goes out to you!

Villain's Mark Reference Sheets:

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. - Donatello - Leonardo, Michelangelo, and Raphael

PREFACE TIME!

Now it may seem like way overdue from the outsider perspective, but let me tell you, I have been trying near non-stop to get this damn thing done. Interest in getting WS Donnie's ref sheet made dates all the way back to around Chapter 9ish of Weak Spot, but very technically to April of 2023. An artist was commissioned to make it and all I will say on that matter is that they decided they could not continue. Thus began my new search. There was a ton of criteria: Someone willing to make a ref sheet of this size, someone willing to associate with NSFW content, and someone willing to do mechanical props.

Unfortunately, I would fruitlessly search until eventually I had Garbage on as a chapter artist. I eventually asked if Garbage was up to it (they totally were) and we decided to test out the other turtle's ref sheets first. It may not seem like it, but a ref sheet of this size is an ENORMOUS undertaking. I seriously cannot praise Garbage enough. As you all know, the other turts ref sheets were stunning. We planned out what was needed for Donnie's and starting May 2024, work began. Garbage would routinely take time off of doing chapter art or what need be (I'm too discombobulated to remember when their vacation was). Their happiness and life takes top priority in my book and after all the time I'd spent searching for someone just to do the ref sheet, I did not mind it getting sidelined in the slightest. Garbage was doing me a huge favor after all, commission or not!

BUT WHO CARES!! WE'RE HERE AND IT'S DONE!!! 🎉🎉🎉

Let's get into it with the turnaround!

The turnaround! Finally we have the definitive collection of Donnie's scars! it was tricky and we ended up needing to label him like some anatomical model to get all the mentions in. Some scars will look a little familiar to you and other's might not, but dang, I sure did a TON of scar research. From hypertrophic (raised scars) to atrophic (scar that don't have enough scar tissue to heal and are sunken in comparison) to how sharp blades versus dull ones cut skin raise what kind of scars. I have a bunch of gorey references for all that, but I doubt anyone wants to see that. Instead let's go into inspirations and the like:

First off, in spot 4, Donnie's electrical scars!

You probably think I ripped them off from Replica or Unknown and that wouldn't be totally wrong, but it wouldn't be right. Obviously I'm a huge fan of both artists (go support their patreons), but my thoughts were always more in the camp of getting Villain Donnie from A to B. I was planning alongside a canon timeline and my thoughts were he would have definitely created himself a pair of show goggles, but there was no way, with what he went through, that those would make it to adulthood. When I considered where he was mostly likely to lose them and that I wanted him to give himself laser eye surgery (again, show accurate, he had glasses once!) that I could knock both out if he were to have damaged the goggles, rendering him deaf and needing cochlear implants.

Now spot 2, the body augmentation, reaches outside the fandom and to Megalo Box of all things!

I only watched an episode or so, but the way Joe scrapped together gear was something that stuck with me. When I was conceptualizing WS Donnie and came to the conclusion he didn't have ninpo, I thought a lot about what he would do when the others got there. The logical conclusion was turning towards his tech and Megalo Box was right there with the idea.

Donnie's body augmentation gear has not been depicted as of yet, but it absolutely looks like something out of Megalo Box. I additionally did research into other wearable tech and came across the ExoArm.

Studying their information on what nerve points and muscles needed to be hit was what helped me ultimately decide where the extraction points on Donnie's arm would be. The starbursts on Donnie's arm are where the pins for the device were forceably torn out when they 'failed' him. The lines between them are where the wires that connected pin points were similarly torn out. They created finer scars.

I want to highlight the barely seen spot 7, Neural Implant, with an extreme close up:

It may seem like just the curvature of his noggin, but it's actually Donnie's one clean scar. It was his only surgery he was truly careful with as it chanced his brain stem and spine if he messed up. Without his ninpo, he implanted a chip to coordinate with his tech more seamlessly. It's inspired by the fic Switch by unorthodoxx, which shout-out! Again, if someone comes up with a neat concept, that stuff sticks with me!

Spot 6, Mystic Chains aka where Donnie got his foot ripped off and it might not be for the reason you think. I wanted to make mention here, that you might remember the chapter art from chapter 43 of Weak Spot and that Donnie did not have a port sticking out back then. That's growth kids because it took me until after to realize that he would need something inserted to connect to a working prosthetic.

Finally, it was tough to figure out how best to depict all of Donnie's shell damage. It's reveal is such a huge moment in Weak Spot and I knew he would have what was basically insurmountable damage to have made it a specific weak spot to him (if you know what I'm saying 😏) The number 8, spike holes are just that, Donnie hit some spikes. Think of him having been shut in like an iron maiden or maybe trapped by a spike wall that was reminiscent of the ones in the Maze of Death in the Minotaur Maze episode of canon.

As for spot 10, Shredder, we see this Donnie suffered for not having a bulkier battle shell. When he was attacked by shredder in this moment:

His shell took that damage directly.

The last spot I want to touch on is 9, the Odachi marks, the larger blob one is when Leo attempted to, but held back from severing Donnie's spine and the other is from Leo trimming Donnie's spines (aka from being a Spiny Softshell). I made this extremely helpful infographic to explain to Garbage at one point exactly what was trimmed off in the latter:

Moving on to outfit variants and expressions!

I hope this section is pretty self explanatory, but I did want to make a note: Donnie wears his wraps as seen in Lounge Looks around his arms and neck under all his clothing and at most hours due to his constant pain. Also, the examples of Donnie's emotions are something that only came around during Weak Spot. He hardly emoted before he met reader.

Last, But Not Least we got prop close-ups!

The prosthetic shown here is specifically Donnie's comfiest, aka the one he uses at home. I didn't bother adding any other prosthetics because his others are either shoe prosthetic (aka the shoe is fit so it directly attaches to is port) or a prosthetic that is made to perfectly replicate what his foot looks like (which visually looks like he just has his real foot). His prosthetic is actually a straight rip off of a real one!

When researching prosthetics, I found this one and it struck me as so similar to the turtle's actual feet (with the 'two toes' and heel) that I thought this had to be Donnie's prosthetic.

We get a good look at Donnie's glasses. As a reminder, the arms (temples) of Donnie's glasses attach to his head via magnets. He's got a little metal in his head from the electrical burns and cochlear implant so he made use of it when he made a facsimile of his goggles. The whole point of his glasses is they mimic the vision specs/knowledge he needs to access without them being a danger to his person. They are meant to be easily removable and they do not have lenses. The color projected in them is just that (a projection) and it only works if it's close enough to Donnie's neural implant and he wills them to be turned on.

Our final order of business is WS Donnie's battle shell! This is the first time it's ever been depicted! I always knew he was going to have a different sort of battle shell when I was created this version of Donnie. His show shell is just too bulky for what this Donnie could afford. Since he dabbled a lot of easily concealable tech, I took a lot of inspiration from Iron Man. The battle shell, as we know from Weak Spot, can grow and resize to its user. I specifically had this gif in mind whenever I thought about how the battle shell grows on one's back:

I did a ton of research into body armor itself, since that is what Donnie would specifically need it for and found this specific piece that I thought fell perfectly in line with both the Iron Man idea and utility of a realistic battle shell for this Donnie.

and that's just about everything! Again, thank you to anyone who made it this far. Thank you for reading my works! Thank you for literally everything! Round up thanks to my betas, to Garbage, to everyone dangit!

[dabratzchronicles]

Funny How Time Flies (When You're Having Fun)

Aaron Pierre as Terry Richmond

You as Yourself

Summary: After your convo with Terry, you went to the library to get back into your lost-out hobby.

A/N: This isn't very long but it is something! cute and adorebleness is something I've been NEEDINGGGGGGGGG, so I made it. Enjoy my babies and who knows? may get a double upload.(also i recommend this book! definitely a good fuckin read.)

Warnings: Nothing, playful banter and cuteness.

Chapter Two:

You hopped off the bus, stepping on soggy leaves and damp pavement. Today was the day you went to the library! You haven’t been here since you were little and they renovated the entire building, bringing a classy yet homey style you admired.

You walked inside and fell in love with the interior. The library side was slim to dim, and the children’s learning center was bright! It was filled with computers, books, and a few splashes of color, but not too much color to the point that it didn't make sense. 

Approaching the desk, you asked for a library card. The process was fast and easy, choosing the library mural design for your card, the black family happily looking into the book they were reading, you prayed silently that you would have a family like that. 

You thanked the kind lady and grabbed your newly-issued library card, trying to contain your excitement but failed miserably to do so. 

The library was filled with so many books, books and books and books! And you didn’t know where the fuck to start at, it was soooo many of em, Did you want to go to a thriller? Did you want a good mystery book? Did you want to read a beautiful romcom? Many Possibilities, Many Outcomes, again.

You wandered around the library until you found a lonesome computer behind one of the adult fiction aisles. You messed with the thing until you were able to search, but for what? You didn’t know a book off the dome you wanted to read, let alone search for! 

A thought infiltrated your mind, prepping your fingers to type ‘White Smoke’ into the machine, it was in stock! only one but you had to go get it before someone got it. 

You exited from the search, returning the screen to how you found it before making a bead line to the Teen Fiction aisle. 

Rounding the corner, you made it to the section and slowly examined everything. With as many books as it had and the mind that you have? You wouldn’t leave with the book you were supposed to leave with. 

Your eyes hunted for the damn book, nibbling at your bottom lip as all the book titles became a blur, it's like a white man giving his daughter his card, it never goes well. After almost what felt like an eternity, you found it! There was only one left in stock, your hand flying out to grab it like it was Black Friday.

You looked a little to the right to see a new book from the same author, your interest was piqued as you grabbed the foreign book. It was titled, ‘The Weight Of Blood’, The name alone was a good eye-grabber, you gave props where props were due. With the books clutched in your arms, you scouted around for a resting area, somewhere cozy and dim.

You finally found a corner to read in, your feet going autopilot as you looked down at the book to read the blurb on the back, sensing Carrie vibes, just fuming off of the book, the more you read the more you it intrigued you– Oof!

Books cracked open on the floor, the sweet-smelling brolic figure you just bumped into let out a tiny laugh as you were down on the ground trying to achieve the fallen collection of books that scattered across the floor, apologizes flew out like playing cards trying to get the precious books off the all walked over the floor.

Separating the books you didn’t have in one arm and the ones you did in the other, you looked up to see who you bumped into and it was… Terry? The man almost looked unrecognizable in casual clothing, well you wouldn’t say causal, more like, different-from-first-time-seeing-him causal, his navy blue polo sweater fitted loosely on him, his black jeans sitting on his waistline, it was refreshing to not see someone sag their pants, and to top the fit, gold jewelry with his Los Angeles dodgers low dunks. “Terry!” a high-pitched calling of his name filled the silence for a little bit, stares and shushing filled it quickly after.

He snickered, looking around at the annoyed daggers of stares at the two of you. “Are you oookay?!” he whispered softly, lowering his head and then his body. 

You gave him a little smile with all thirty two gleaming, “I’m Fine!” 

“Good, now hurry off this floor before they kick us out for lewdful activities.” he said with his hand slowly extending towards you, his ear to ear smile returning when he saw your face at his snarky comment.

“You are so naughty Mr. Richmond!” you giggled like a school girl, accepting his hand up. 

His hands were soft, almost as soft as fabric softener makes clothes, his vibe was gentle and serenely warm, your head shook on its own in efforts to shake away feelings, but it didn't help.

You stood straight till your knees bent almost out of place. You fixed your glasses and dusted off places covered with dirt, geez and you’d think they would clean these floors now and again. 

Terry studied you, to your hair that could only be described as a lion mane, but you kept it tame with your hood. To your outfit, which you kept casual. Your dark blue jeans hugging your lower body perfectly, your freshly washed Tokyo Ghoul hoodie kept you warm and comfortable, but when it got too hot you wished you put on a fuckin shirt underneath. 

His hand flew to the chairs, signaling you to lead the way as if he didn’t know where he could have moved his long legs. You corrected your face from the reaction you wanted to give in your head. “After you.” 

“Such a gentleman,” you teased, holding her books as you waltzed to the seating area. You felt funny walking in front of him. Not because he could possibly be staring at your ass, but because you felt comfortable in his presence, like he just gave off natural protector energy, a lion protecting his lioness, you felt pretty and safe. 

You chose the olive green armchair near the window, sitting in knee first, leaning towards the window. 

You cracked open the book and man, it brought back your love for reading, the character's introduction sucking you further into the book. A light-skinned finger slowly creeping into your view spooked you into the armchair. “Jesus, Terrance.” 

“I’ve been pspspsps-ing you like a stray cat!” Terry whispered his shout, looking at the book that so desperately caught your attention. “That’s not white smoke…” 

“I know,” You said, looking at the book cover with satisfaction. “This is another book by the same author. I don't know, just caught my eye.” 

He looked at with a pleased face, his bottom lip turned outwards as his eyes traveled across your side, your face sculpted by confusion and scareness. “Is there something on me?” 

“No.” He smiled, setting his book on the side between you two, scooting his chair next to yours, your hands flew out to replace what would have been your screams. 

He sat down in the now moved seat and crossed his legs, his hands reaching for your book with his elbow resting on the arm of the chair. 

Something unspoken was spoken between you two, his eyes rolled jokingly as he leaned towards you. “This is fine as long as we put it back where it belongs.” 

“How the fuck does your whispers sound like your speaking regularly?!” 

“Simple, My tongue is silver.” 

Oh, how you wish it was on you. 

You shook your head blinking back other unwanted thoughts. Your hand flew to the book, flipping the skinny pages to where you left off at, catching him up to where you got stopped at, which wasn’t far. 

“So she was passing as a white girl until that one day at her track meeting?” 

“Yes,” You answered, starting you up on one of your blabs.

It's funny how time flies when you’re having fun, as the great Janet Jackson said. You sat in the same spot for some hours—how many? You don't know. 

It’s been nice reading with someone, thoughts after each chapter, the passion of reading each sentence like it were lines to a script, the sudden moments to go with every other sentence, this was the best impromptu book club you could’ve ever joined. 

“5 Minutes till closing.” An Employee said, waving her hand to politely exit the area.

You looked outside to see the sunset. Closing the book to set it on top of the other book. Damn, you forgot you even checked that book out. 

“So,” His voice took you out of your thoughts. “Mind if I walk you to your car?” 

“Er…” 

Car. A fuckin Car. You don’t have one! You got two black Cadillacs that gets you places and singles to give to the money eater on those buses. You internally croaked over as you silently spoke the words: 

“I don’t have a car.”

“What?” His head tilted toward you to hear you better but you jerked yours back. 

“I don’t have a car! Teehee. I caught the bus.” You admitted to him, his face not changing at all. “Oh.” He said, “That’s all?”

“Yes that’s all!” you felt offended, it took a lot to admit you didn’t own a vehicle and all you get is a ‘That’s all’!?! The nerve! “It ain't easy to admit that you asshole.” You playfully hit his shoulder, giggling at how he faked how bad it stung. 

“I can take you, It’s not that big of a deal.” I want to fuck you so it is.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to have you doing anything extra-”

He shushed with his finger on your lips, dragging his index finger down and flicked your bottom lip. “Imma stop you right there. You ain’t prolonging shit, nor are you stopping me from doing something that I want to do. Plus I’m not letting another man scoop you up like that! That’s my job.” 

“Boy if you don’t move yo finger off my mouth,” You attempted to bite his finger away but he was quick to withdraw it. “I will take you up on your offer, but if you do that Disney Channel shit on me again I will lick you.” 

“You can lick me anytime you please,” he teased, his smile grew fatter seeing your eyes react to his statement. “Cmon lil lady,” He stuck out his free elbow while the other one had your books and his, “Times ticking and it's getting cold out.” 

Your eyes rolled involuntarily as you linked arms with Terry, walking together to the exit.

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[rodger-eyeballis]

Mr. Rodger, I'm just having the usual little curiosity, what did you do at the bachelorette party?

” I didn't think anyone would be interested. In fact, nothing special or unusual happened there. And really, what can happen at one o'clock in the morning? Although, I think it was one of those times when I was able to fall asleep without a nightmare..

Since I initially had no plans to enter someone's room at night, I took one of the books I had in my office to read it in the kitchen.. However, the work was read (of course, not to the end) precisely in the Glisten bed.. AHEM, don't focus your attention on THAT. But I must admit, the bed is really soft and comfortable at the same time, my back has not felt such bliss for a long time.. It just so happened that after all our procedures, in which I was persuaded to participate (I was lucky that the photo of my makeup was not preserved), we decided to read that book together. Well, as together, I read, and the mirror just listened. I don't know if he liked Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, but he fell asleep almost immediately because of me. Silly kid.. I was thinking about going back to the office at that moment, because I didn't feel sleepy, but Glisten himself stopped me, hugging my hand like a plush toy. Mm.. It was strange, but for some reason I wanted to stay with him and did not resist….

Come on, I left my book in his room! — ”