#also sorry for lack of activity i say this every time feeling like i have 1638237384 posts to make

[maxlarens]

OP: well, that isn't fucking relevant

pairing(s): oscar piastri x mercedes driver!reader

summary: someone tries to threaten your job, oscar has some choice words for him. (OR: the trials and tribulations of being a woman in a male dominated sport)

word count: 2.7k+

an: i kinda hate the white knight trope but i still wrote this lol, it scratches an itch and i think driver!reader did a sufficient amount of defending of herself beforehand. anyway, this is a one shot that's kind of connected to my smau series just a girl. enjoy!!!!! [also standard disclaimer: this does not reflect the opinions of any real life people/companies/organisations/etc. it is fiction. thank you]

You’re no stranger to sexism in Formula racing— you knew going into this that you’d have to deal with thinly veiled remarks about your gender and purposefully obtuse questions from reporters who think they know more than you about the sport you’ve dedicated your life to. You had to deal with it when you were karting, you had to deal with it during your stint in F2, and you have to deal with it now.

The fact of the matter is that some people do not think you belong here, and therefore are entirely unable to integrate the reality that you are very much here to stay, into their worldview. You’re lucky to have somehow earned Lewis’ loyalty, which had brought the Mercedes contract and the support of Toto simultaneously. Mercedes-AMG aren’t making leaps and bounds into the world of feminism, but you’re grateful for the seat regardless. You’re here and not going anywhere if you can help it.

You try your best to stay off the bad parts of social media, so as not to be subjected to the barrage of hate comments and death threats directed your way. You’re tough— but no one’s that tough. It’s fine for the most part. You focus on the racing, how the car feels, your performance and improving it weekend after weekend. You try at least. You’d love to leave your gender entirely out of the mix, you don’t think it’s relevant frankly. But unfortunately, the reporters do. (And so do some choice individuals working on the grid, who just can’t seem to keep their big fucking mouths shut about you.)

It’s disappointing, sure— but not surprising to sit down at a press conference and get a smattering of questions about your rumoured relationships and extracurricular activities when every other driver gets fifty questions practically thrown at them about their performance, or FIA regulations, or the track conditions. The part that bothers you the most is honestly just the lack of interest. It’s like they don’t think anything you have to say about the sport is valuable so they just don’t ask you the same questions they bother to ask the men. That probably is the actual case too.

So— y’know— you’re not that shocked when a reporter from some sports blog you’ve never heard of straight out asks if you “expect to be switched out with another female driver next year?”

The room goes dead fucking silent in a way that you do actually find satisfying. It’s good to know that most of the reporters in the room do know a tactless question when they hear one, or at least that you inspire enough fear in people that they’re waiting with bated breath to hear your response. Next to you, Oscar tenses, you can feel it where your thighs are touching. You can imagine his face right now without looking, that pinched micro-grimace he does. The barest hint of a crease in the bridge of his nose as he tries not to scowl. You want to put your hand on his knee and squeeze it in thanks.

You don’t. Instead, you frown and cock your head to the side, meeting the eyes of the reporter across the room.

Slowly, measuredly, you repeat, “I’m sorry, do I expect to be replaced with another female driver next year? Is that what you said?”

He nods, bringing the microphone closer to his mouth as if you really couldn’t hear him the first time, “Yes, yeah. That is what I asked.”

You hum, pursing your lips as if you’re sincerely considering his question. You can see a few people in the crowd who are cringing already, some of them have been on the receiving end of your tendency to play with your food before you eat it. Your ego feels pretty good about that.

“Why would Mercedes want to replace me?” you ask in your most polite voice, feigning real curiosity to this man who you doubt has done any research at all on you.

“Um,” he errs, some of his former unflappable confidence leeching out of his tone, “Well, to give more women a chance in Formula One—”

You start to speak over him, done with entertaining his ignorance. You bite, “—there are other teams for that, actually. I don’t think it’s presumptuous to say that I’ve earned my seat at Mercedes, or that I’ve proven that I belong here so far this season. In which, I have not qualified or placed below a P7. And I certainly don’t think it’s fair of you to ask if I am going to voluntarily give up my hard-earned seat to another person because you think I am here because of some women’s inclusion effort by Mercedes. And, okay, who knows, maybe I am. But I am not giving up this seat without a fight, nor do I imagine that Mercedes are in a rush to find someone to replace me right now. You’ll have to ask someone to confirm that though.”

You wind down after that, punctuating your point with a firm nod; some of the fight and the fury seeping out as you start to reckon with the potential consequences of your outburst. Mercedes’ PR rep will have something to say surely, you’re just hoping you haven’t crossed some kind of uncrossable line. Another part of you doesn’t quite care as you watch the reporter gape like a fish out of water, feeling rather satisfied that you’d put him in his place.

Eventually, the room recovers and moves on from you. Checo is getting asked his opinion on tyres while you share a furtive glance with Oscar. He smiles approvingly, mouth closed and the apples of his cheeks pushed up into his eyes. You feel the urge to touch his knee again but resist, instead smiling back as covertly as you possibly can. A warm feeling spreads in your chest and you almost forget about the reporter and his stupid question in favour of watching Oscar’s slow-burn smile.

Mercedes is fine with it, it turns out. Apparently, you’re doing the heavy lifting for them in the feminism department and all they have to do is have Toto or someone come out and say a few words in agreement. It suits them fine, they don’t need to take any hard stances and you get the blame if anything goes horribly wrong. That grates at you, of course it does. But you’ve got a seat, haven’t you? You’re not going to give it up because Mercedes are covering their asses like the multibillion-dollar company that they are.

It means you’ve avoided the all-hands-on-deck PR meeting you thought you’d be stuck in tonight, but it’s left you in too sour a mood for this party. It’s some function, fundraiser, something or other and they’ve invited all the teams, drivers and ‘important’ FIA staff. This means there’s an inordinate amount of people here and you’re really not into it.

But you’re still here. You’ve shoved yourself into a cute, strappy, black top, and a denim mini-skirt and you’ve even added some cute jewellery in a feeble attempt to match whatever over-the-top outfit Lewis has arrived in. It’s at least a step up from your usual team polo and leggings, or the Mercedes hoodie that you pull on over it. You’re comfortable. You’re fine.

You pull a hand out of the pocket of your oversized leather jacket as Oscar comes back over with your beer. You smile at the expression on his face as you take the neck in between your fingers. He’s scowling openly, the corners of his lips curled up in distaste.

“Busy?” you ask, then you hold up the beer in thanks, “Cheers, by the way.”

“Hmm, too crowded,” he affirms, “I lost Lando.”

You shrug, taking a swig of the refreshingly cold beer, “Actually? Or did he run off with someone?”

Oscar snorts, “Yeah, no. He got into a conversation with Max.”

You laugh, “Yeah, in that case, I reckon we’ll see Lando in a few hours.”

“Definitely.”

The two of you share an amused smile before you’re back to looking into the crowd because sometimes, it’s hard for you to look at him— like looking directly into the sun. You’re aware of him in your periphery, standing there and rocking back and forth on his heels, occasionally taking a sip of his drink. He looks away for a moment, and you turn to look at him. Taking in the endearing swoop of his hair, the scattering of freckles and moles on the side of his pale face, the long line of his neck disappearing into the collar of his shirt. You shift your eyes slightly to the right of him, to the patchwork of vents and scaffolding in the ceiling, feigning as if you’d only been casually looking his way.

“That reporter was a piece of work,” Oscar says once he’s drifted his attention back to you.

You roll your eyes on instinct, and groan, “Tell me about it, holy shit, Osc. What an asshole. I don’t know if he was just stupid or legit didn’t know a single thing about me.”

“Mm,” Oscar hums in agreement, “and I like how no one asked you a single question after that. Way to go guys, that’s exactly how you show your support.”

You roll your eyes, still smiling a little at the contented feeling you’ve got in your chest, “I know, right. Trust, they all got on their keyboards afterwards to wax lyrical about how deserving I am of my seat. It’d be fucken’ nice if they acted like it during press conferences.”

“Yeaah,” he sighs, half-laugh, half-exhale, “It’s unfair.”

“Fucken' right,” you gripe, tipping your head back and letting a slip of fizzy beer cascade down your throat— the alcohol, though meagre, leaves you feeling loose, a little reckless, “It sucks Osc. God, I just want to be respected. If I had a dick and balls I’d be fucking killing it, dude. This is my rookie season, I’ve been scoring points every race. Except for the DNF, which was not my fault. But, fuck me, they don’t give a shit.”

You squeeze your eyes shut to stave off the angry tears that are sitting behind your eyelids, threatening. When you open them Oscar is staring at you, frowning, his brown eyes huge and sparkling and sympathetic. They’re like a black hole you want to fall into. Your heart squeezes. He’s so— ugh. Quickly, your mind supplies about a hundred answers to that question: sweet, cute, nice, adorable. Something stutters in your chest and you feel your cheeks starting to grow hot. That slow-burn smile of Oscar’s starts on his face, and you watch dimples form on his cheeks.

The moment is quickly ruined by a particularly nasally Italian accent that you vaguely recognise, “You know,” it says, clearly talking to you, “You should make sure to watch your tone. You never know who could be listening.”

Mood thoroughly dampened, you turn to face the interruption. It turns out to be one of the numerous men on the grid who won’t shut up about you, sharing unsolicited opinions left and right. He has his arms crossed against his chest and a smug expression on his face, as if he’s just caught you doing something terrible— instead of simply complaining about the subpar treatment you’re afforded.

He’s not worth your time whatsoever but God you’re angry. Maybe it’s just been too much shit on top of shit today but you cannot deal reasonably with this man right now— and you are not afforded the luxury of not acting reasonably toward someone like this, no matter how much of a dickhead they are. You open your mouth. Close it. Open it again. Close it and bite down on your bottom lip so nothing accidentally slips out. You’re trying to fish a semi-civil sentence out of a sea of fuck you fuck you fuck you on repeat and it’s not working.

“Are you threatening her?” Oscar asks, a dangerous lilt to his tone, and somewhere in the pulse of anger, you think this is the happiest you’ve ever been to hear his voice, “Because, I am pretty sure your team principal would not be pleased to hear that you’re going around threatening one of Mercedes’ drivers.”

He scoffs, trying to play it off, but you think you register a little bit of worry somewhere in there— Oscar can be threatening when he wants to be and McLaren are not exactly nobodies in this sport right now, “Please, I am not threatening her. I am just telling her that she needs to watch her mouth.”

“Right,” Oscar nods, mouth pinching, “Sure. Well, it would be our word against yours and I’m fairly sure your team principal would believe two drivers over you right now. Especially with that history, you’ve got, dude.”

A little thrill goes up your spine as his face goes white as a sheet. Oscar’s talking about the nice little list of comments he’s made that you’ve reported to your team and an FIA representative— which you’ve taken to doing every time anyone starts up a pattern of saying things about you or to you. They’re to cover your ass honestly, so you can’t be accused of making things up if push comes to shove. You’re sure they’ve made their way back to him and his boss; you’re glad they’ve made an impact (but perhaps not enough to stop him outright).

He sniffs, a nervous edge to his words, “I am not threatening her.”

“Okay. Apologise.”

“Excuse me?”

Oscar raises an eyebrow, “If you’re not threatening her, apologise.”

You bite the inside of your lip and grip the neck of your near-empty beer bottle tighter. Alright, Oscar can be scary. Noted. Very much noted.

“I—” He quickly thinks better of protesting and looks at you, lips pursed in a thin angry line, “I apologise.”

He looks at Oscar, Oscar looks at you. You shrug and nod. Good enough. You don’t need him to grovel, you think he’s been sufficiently humiliated already. Although, before he scampers off into the crowd at Oscar’s approval, you manage a dry, “You think I need to watch my tone now?”

He scowls, but says, “No,” anyway.

Then he stalks off into the throng of people.

You relax more the further that he gets away from the two of you. The tension dissipates into something warm and charged with a different kind of electricity entirely. You ignore the unease that tries to take root in your stomach and instead focus on Oscar at your side.

“That was—” you scrub a hand over your face, starting your sentence again, “Hm.”

Oscar sigh-laughs again, “Yeah, what an asshole.”

“Thank you,” you say meaning it wholeheartedly, “No one’s done something like that for me before.”

Oscar looks down at you, frowning, he shakes his head, “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” you answer, feeling bold as you put a hand on his bicep in an attempt to express how grateful you feel for him, for what he’d done for you, “It’s really not, Osc.”

He’s quiet, staring at you with big brown sparkling eyes for a long long moment. A long moment in which you fantasise about reaching upward and pulling his face down to yours, feeling his lips against your own. They’d be soft, you think— his hair would be too. You don’t think about it and you resolutely ignore the tug low in your gut.

“You deserve it,” he says eventually, loud enough that you can hear it, but not anyone else, “You are killing it, by the way.”

You breathe a laugh, “Yeah, I’d better be.”

You squeeze gently at his bicep, feeling the sinewed muscle underneath his dress shirt. Then you let your hand drop, trailing absently down his arm as you do so. Your fingers brush his hand, and he catches yours before it's out of reach at your side. Purposefully, he threads your fingers with his, squeezing firmly and brushing his thumb tenderly over your knuckle. You feel a little lightheaded when he lets go.

You sigh, masking the out-of-breath quality of your voice, “I need another drink.”

“Yeah,” Oscar breathes, “Me too, I reckon.”

🏎️ title taken from this song :)

[avelera]

One of your posts mentioned something about viktor not truly acknowledging Jayce's workload when it came to him being a Councillor. Could you please elaborate on that?

Sure. I mean, maybe if I went back through and did an exhaustive rewatch, I'd find something to contradict the point, but as far as I can recall, the closest Viktor ever comes to saying that Jayce might be overworked is when he calls his time going over the shipping manifests for the Hexgates a waste of time because they should be working on innovations to help people in need (ie, Viktor obfuscating once again that he is dying and wants Jayce's urgent help but framing it in such a way that it sounds like a long-term societal problem instead of a short term personal one, so it goes right over Jayce's head).

And look, let me preface this by saying Viktor is actively dying at this point. He's sick, and in pain, and terrified, and he feels abandoned by the most important person in his life. I'm not saying it was wrong of him to not acknowledge Jayce's workload, or bad, or in any way not understandable. Jayce is an adult too and Viktor was definitely suffering more at that point than him.

But on one of many rewatches, I did note that when Jayce says, "Sorry, I have a lot on my plate lately." it is objectively true. And Viktor doesn't even acknowledge it. Being a full time councilor and promoting Hextech and working in the lab and trying to help Viktor and dealing with a civic crisis that could lead to outright civil war, etc etc everything else happening in S1, it's no wonder Jayce is snippy and on edge at the bridge, the guy should be on the edge of collapse quite frankly.

And Viktor doesn't care. He thinks Jayce's time on the Council is a waste of time, so he doesn't acknowledge the burden of it. That includes not acknowledging the fact that the Hexcore would have been destroyed and Viktor's one hope for a cure gone with it if not for Jayce's power and influence now. Jayce only became a Councilor to advance their research and help Viktor, but Viktor doesn't once acknowledge this and seems actively angry and jealous about it.

By the way, this isn't a case of one of them is right and the other is wrong, it's just a case of two very human people being human. It's very well written. But Viktor's lack of empathy for the challenges Jayce is facing means he's also not seeing how much of what Jayce is doing is for his benefit, how many burdens Jayce is taking on for Viktor's sake.

Viktor's emotional arc at the end of S1 includes a lot of feelings of abandonment by Jayce which are objectively not true. If he acknowledged Jayce's workload, he might also come to the realization that he's not abandoned, that Jayce is entirely focused on him just in different arenas. Maybe it would give Viktor the impetus to say "Hey, I don't want your help as a Councilor, I want your help in the lab because I'm scared and alone and dying and I'm about to make some very rash decisions because of all those feelings." Instead of just sucking it up and going it alone, which eventually leads to Sky's death and Viktor's collapse into utter hopelessness and resignation towards his own death.

And by the way, this isn't conjecture that Viktor is bad at seeing how much people around him care for him. Sky is another example of this. Viktor is so focused on extending his own life that, to paraphrase Heimerdinger in 2.07, he's not using the time he has to be with the ones he loves.

Later he will weep and rage at how he completely missed out on knowing Sky as a person, he completely missed out on knowing she cares for him. He'll craft an entire specter of her to keep him company as a result of this guilt in S2, because he can't live with the guilt of the fact he objectively missed out on spending time with the real woman when she was alive. And that is another version of what he's doing to Jayce in S1, by not seeing that Jayce isn't ignoring him, he's desperately trying to help in every way he can and the workload is burying him.

[kingkat12]

feeling (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, fingering, voyeurism, semi-public sexual activities, smoking, teasing, praises, Roman shouldn't be allowed on school grounds

summary: you've finally mastered the art of feeling nothing at all. emotions don't serve you, they're painful, and everything about them downright suck. however, what happens when you're suddenly faced with the fact that feeling can feel... good?

word count: 3,200

a/n: hey luvs!! I've always hated being someone that feels everything deeply and painfully, even the smallest things, so I wrote the start last night just to get it out of my head, but... you know me, it spiralled, SORRY!!! tihi oh well, enjoy!<33

Everything in life had to be a fight. Always.

Living could be so painful sometimes. Feeling was exhausting. Therefore, it was easier to shut down all my emotions instead of dealing with the overwhelming pain cramming itself down the veins of my forearms, ripping through the vessels of blood at the tips of my fingers with every bad thing that happened in my life. 

If I could walk around with a sign saying 'I'm not trying to be mean, I just don't care enough', I would. People always assumed I was a piece of shit due to my inclination never to smile. However, the sign would make me more of a freak at school than I already was, and I had an inkling that I shouldn't dig myself a deeper hole than I already had. High school was hard as it was, why complicate it further?

My lack of social indulgence left me rather lonely. Not that I cared. It was easier this way-- I didn't have to pretend to be bearable to be around. I didn't have to smile, I didn't have to laugh, and I didn't have to fake anything in the world. 

However, I wasn't allowed to live peacefully on my island of isolation. Every so often, a little boat would float by the shore and ask to park by the dock for a short break, to rest from its travels and seek momentary company, despite the fact that I hadn't sought this out whatsoever. And to make matters worse, the boat would do so every day, with its voice calling louder with every passing of the sun and moon-- eventually, I had to relent. 

So here we sat, on my island of isolation, also known as the empty bleachers. Roman pulled two cigarettes out of his box and placed them between his plush lips, lighting both at the same time. It had become a ritual of sorts, where he'd approach whenever he saw me at school and sit with me in silence for a little cigarette break. When we first started running into each other like this, he would try to small-talk, but this died down when he pieced together that silence was the best for us both. 

We needed the time away from everyone, Roman probably more than I. He handed me the cigarette, and we exchanged a short nod at the other with the exchange.

Someone wise once said that you learn something new every day. Because after all this time watching his extroverted social life from afar, wondering how he had the energy for all the people around him all the time, I realized there was only one other person in the world that understood the wish to surrender of a full-body shutdown as well as I did-- and that was Roman Godfrey. 

And that was why he sat here with me, smoking in silence.

Still, after all this time, I never knew why he sought me out. Why he had approached at all the first time, and why he had chosen me. Was it maybe that he saw solace in my carefree rejection of everything and everyone? I wondered whether he wished to be like me. 

And I wondered whether he knew that I wished to be like him.

I loved to watch the way Roman inhaled the first drag of his cigarette-- it was always with a small moan followed by his eyes closing, his legs spreading out on his seat, and a nod to himself. Like he had been waiting for a new hit for years. Because whenever I watched him and his ritualistic ways, I felt specks of something. The only something that didn't hurt, and didn't feel like my arms were about to rip themselves open and gush blood. 

When he didn't look, I allowed myself to smile. I could give in to it. And today, after months of sitting in silence and barely exchanging more than a few sentences about ourselves, I wanted to tell him what was on my mind. "Roman?"

He slowly opened his eyes, surprised that I had spoken. "Shit," he breathed, exhaling a ring of smoke. "You broke your vow of silence for me? I'm flattered."

I would've laughed. His tone was dead serious, yet I could see him fighting a smile. Nonetheless, I went on, but in a different direction; "Do you think we're friends?" I asked, inhaling another drag of smoke.

Roman stilled, watching me. He was surely trying to calculate the way this conversation was going, or what I was trying to get at. Eventually, he spoke; "No,"

"No?"

"No," Roman shrugged-- "You sort of remind me of this guy I once knew, Tyler. He was at every party I was at, and he always had a stash of weed with him, so we ended up smoking it on the porch at, like, every occasion. I never knew anything about him, though, so I don't think we were friends."

"And... you don't think Tyler thought you were friends?"

It looked like Roman hadn't thought about that. "I don't think he ever cared," he mumbled. "And I didn't think you did either."

I nodded to myself as I exhaled the smoke, unsure whether to keep his gaze or look away. I was scared I'd start feeling again, with the way this convo was going. "Alright then," I said, rolling the cigarette between my fingers. 

Perplexed, Roman's brows drew together. "Would you want to be friends?"

"No,"

"... Okay?" He let out a laugh which sounded an awful lot like a huff, and he shook his head as threw the cigarette down to the floor and stomped it. "Luckily for you, you've made it to the rapid round of today's quiz." Roman turned to me, nudging my shoulder. "And I'm allowing myself to be nosy, for once. So, tell me why."

"Why what?"

"Why you don't want to be friends,"

It spilled past my lips easier than I thought it would; "Because you make me feel,"

A pause. It was too long. 

"Feel?" Roman looked more puzzled than before. "Feel what?"

"Just... feel. You make me feel stuff,"

"What stuff?"

"Just stuff!" I wasn't sure why it annoyed me to explain it to him. In my mind, he should've gotten it. Understood it. "It's not a particular feeling, it's just feeling in general."

Roman cleared his throat, and with his next breath, he took the cigarette between my fingers into his hand. "Ever heard of sociopaths"? he muttered, taking a drag. With the way his shoulders tensed, I couldn't make out whether he was nervous or excited. 

"I'm not a sociopath,"

"Then what the fuck do you mean?" Roman leaned in closer, yet I didn't move. Up close, his eyes were much greener, much more vibrant-- I didn't want to think about it. It made my stomach flutter. 

"You stole my cigarette..." What else was I supposed to say?

Roman stifled a laugh. "I didn't steal it. Ever heard of sharing? It stems from an emotion called caring,"

"Fuck you,"

Being so close to him was intoxicating. Stupid. Dangerous. My heart hadn't beat this fast in months-- why had I opened my mouth at all? My thoughts raced as Roman reached forward, gently placing his thumb on my bottom lip as he watched my eyes widen. A shaky breath escaped me, fanning the skin of his fingers. With a soft push that didn't meet much resistance, Roman pressed down on my lip, parting my mouth as he took a drag of my cigarette, maintaining just about the most intense eye contact I had ever had in my life. 

There was nothing I could do to move away. Not that I wanted to, anyway. So when Roman's upper lip brushed up against mine as he leaned in close, exhaling the smoke into my mouth, I was sure my heart would jump out of my chest, up my throat, and leap right at him. 

Even after I inhaled the substance, Roman didn't move away. My mind was buzzing, wondering what to do, whether to say something, whether to ask what was going on-- all I knew, was that I had enjoyed the first physical contact I'd had with another human in a while. 

"I've always wondered what it must be like to be a sociopath," Roman whispered against my lips, his thumb leaving my skin. "Do tell."

The more flustered I became, the more my cheeks burned. "I'm not a sociopath,"

"What are you, then?"

"Exhausted," I breathed. "Do you know how tiring it is to feel?"

Roman let out a huff, a laugh, as he let the cigarette burn out between his fingers. "It can be exhausting if you're feeling all the wrong things, sure. But if the feelings are good..." His voice lowered as his nose nudged mine with a teasing touch, and I could feel him smile against me as he heard the small hitch of my breath. "If they're good, you'll suddenly find yourself wanting to feel everything all at once." 

Everything indicated that he would kiss me. I couldn't believe it. My heart raced in my chest as air refused to leave me, and I could feel the drumming of my blood coursing through my veins in anticipation. This was a rush unlike any other. So I braced for it, stilled in my seat, made my mind accustomed to the thought--

Until I couldn't feel his breath falling against my cheek anymore. Until all I felt was the cold breeze of the air brushing a strand of hair away from my face. I opened my eyes only to find Roman was getting up from his seat next to me. He briefly turned to catch a glimpse of the stunned expression on my face before he gave in to a snicker. "There you go, there was my crash course," he joked. "Sorry for making you feel things again, I guess. It wasn't my intention. This was nice though." Roman motioned to the both of us-- I didn't like his tone. This felt like a goodbye. This felt like I had broken some holy contract I didn't know I had signed. "I'll leave you alone from now on, don't worry. I'll find out whether Tyler is available for cig breaks at school instead--"

I had no idea what came over me as my hand shot forward and clasped his wrist. "Don't do that,"

"Do what?" Roman was unreadable-- a part of me wondered whether he was dragging this reaction out of me on purpose. Had his skills with people brewed down to developing mastery of manipulation? 

"Did I piss you off somehow?" I tried. "Did I say something wrong?" 

Roman's brows raised in confusion. "You haven't done anything,"

"Then why are you leaving?"

He blinked. Once. Twice. "You said that you didn't want to feel anything. And since I make you feel stuff, I'm doing you a favor, no?"

Roman was a smart guy-- I had known it deep down. Still, I rose from my seat, only to be reminded of how tall he was. How handsome he was. "And what if I... want to feel?"

Silence laid itself like a thick duvet over us as we stood and stared at each other, none of us knowing when to speak or what to say.

Eventually, Roman let out a short hum as his eyes rounded out. There was an emptiness to his gaze. "I don't have any love to give," he breathed. "If that's what you're looking for, you've come to the wrong place."

That was almost nice to hear. Love would've been too grand of a start. I finally spoke; "Not that. I just... want to feel good again. I don't remember how that feels anymore," 

Roman's ears perked up. "Oh?" The corners of his mouth curved into a look I couldn't decipher. It was somewhere between intrigue and calculated success; 

"Well... I could make you feel real good, that's for sure."

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

So... I succumbed. Not everything had to be a fight, at the end of the day. 

I succumbed in a secluded part of the school library, a section Roman said nobody ever came to. He had led me down a path of stairs, past the archeology section and the biographies of famous mathematicians, and into the far corner of the philosophy area. 

It was there that he had finally kissed me, finally pulled me in by my waist, and led my back against the wall next to a whole row of books about Platon-- and it was there that he put his large hand beneath my skirt and pressed the heel of his palm into my clit through my underwear, making me gasp into his mouth. 

I squirmed, my grip in his hair tightening as I pulled him closer. Roman tasted like cigarettes and smelled like expensive perfume you'd test out at an airport when you're bored at Duty Free. However, my thoughts dulled as my hips keened into his hand, against the sweet pressure, and my heart thumped harder in my chest with every brush of his lips against mine. 

"So..." Roman whispered, his cocky smirk gracing his beautiful face. "Feeling anything yet?"

Bastard. He knew damn well. "Yeah-- Yes," 

"Good," With a rather patronizing laugh, Roman pressed kisses to the corners of my mouth. "I've waited to see you like this for so long, do you know that? Since the first time I sat next to you and you barely paid me any mind, I've wanted to see you squirm." My breath hitched as he pressed his finger into the wetness that had formed in my underwear, tapping it to test the slick. His lips brushed over my ear; "Should've done this earlier, hm? Relieved you a little, made you feel good?"

This was the most horrifying feeling of gratification ever. I never thought I'd be the type for this sort of behaviour, but I suppose life pushes you toward the direction you're destined to take, right? 

"Who would've thought," Roman purred, a small chuckle building in his chest. "And here I thought you were one of those people that don't even get horny. Bet you're the type to lay in bed and get off when you're bored." 

My cheeks burned. Burned. "N-No--"

"No? Aw, you're still fighting," And just as I thought it couldn't get any worse, Roman pulled my panties aside and eased a finger into me. I couldn't meet his eyes anymore as my hands gave into a tremble, and I clutched the fabric of his shirt as I hid my face in his chest. 

"Tell me, then," Roman whispered, reaching his free hand into the hair at the nape of my neck to pull me away from him. He dragged my head back, forcing me to look up at him as he pressed himself further up against me, cornering me as he pushed my back harder into the wall. I was panting against his lips at this point, feeling him curl his finger into my sweet spot like he had done this a thousand times before-- he probably had, anyway. I hated the jealousy that coursed through my veins, one of the emotions I hadn't allowed myself to feel in ages. He spoke with a smug grin; "Tell me what you're feeling, you little psycho."

That would've earned him a snicker, had I not been in such a compromising position. "Good," I breathed, finding his green eyes. "Feels-- Feels n-nice."

"Nice? Only nice?" Roman tsked, shaking his head. "That's not enough." And with that, he eased another finger into me, which only had me gripping his shirt harder. Being filled by Roman's fingers like this, knowing we could be walked in on at any moment, made my whole body burn with adrenaline. "Ro--"

"How many times have you thought about this when we've been smoking, huh? Don't tell me you've been wishing I'd do this shit this whole time?" Roman pressed a kiss to my ear as his fingers stroked into me, pressing into my sweet spot with a gentle rubbing-motion. 

I could only shake my head. That was the truth. I hadn't ever allowed myself to think about him like that to spare my feelings. I know I'd have been squirming in my seat, staring at the way his hair always fell over his eyes, and the way his broad shoulders sunk in pleasure with every inhale of nicotine, if I had allowed myself to think those thoughts.

"No?" he cooed, feigning disappointment with a pout. The way he was almost mocking me made my stomach flutter-- or was that his fingers? "Well, I have. Many times. I've always wondered if it'd make you talk or shut down more. Or mostly, I wondered how you'd look if I did--" Roman placed his thumb on my clit, and the added stimulation only made my eyes water with pleasure as my hips bucked into his hand once more. "This."

"Fuck--" I hissed, leaning forward to kiss his neck. If Roman wasn't going to make it easy for me, I had to shut myself up somehow. Now more than ever, his perfume was prevalent. 

He let out a small sigh of pleasure as the thrusts of his fingers grew harder, not paying any mind to the way my knees gave into a slight tremble. "God, wouldn't it be bad if we were caught right now?" he said with a laugh. "You wouldn't be known as the quiet one anymore, that's for sure." Roman pulled me away from his neck with the hand he had in my hair and scanned the look on my face. My eyes glossed over as I drowned out my moans with heavy breaths; "Fuck-- Fuck you!"

"Is that how you talk to your friends?" Roman cooed, leaning down to press a short kiss to my lips, the soft pillows of his mouth pushing me into submission. "Cause wasn't it friends you wanted us to be, hm?" 

I couldn't answer. Not when his tone made me clench around the stretch of his fingers, not when he looked this good, not when he talked to me this way. "N-No,"

"No?" 

"No!"

"What, then? Best friends?"

If I could punch him, I would. Yet I only managed to gather the strength to suppress another moan, feeling my high creep up on me faster than ever before. It was almost embarrassing how fast I was about to cum on Roman's fingers in the fucking school library. He was making a wreck of me. "Wait, I-- no, fuck, I might--"

"Ulta-mega-best-friends?" Roman only giggled as his unrelenting pace continued. "Fuck-friends would probably serve us both the most, though, hm?"

"Okay, s-sure--"

"Don't you think?"

I let go of his shirt as my body keened against his fingers, sinking down a little against the wall as I squeezed my eyes shut. The pooling feeling of arousal in my stomach made me tense up, and I prayed I wouldn't collapse to my knees-- I hadn't had a standing orgasm before. How did that even work? "Yeah," I cried. "That-- That sounds good."

Roman kissed me again as a reward, smiling from ear to ear as my muffled moans filled the empty section of the library. I clamped down on his fingers, feeling my clit pulse against his thumb as I gave in to the strongest, most intense feeling I'd had in months. 

"That's it, feel it all," he purred, rubbing me through my orgasm. 

"Good girl."

[elizzsush]

I love you?| Tim Drake X Reader

Tim Drake X Reader

— How can you mourn someone you never truly knew?

AU: None Rating: SFW

Note: Check out this post for context! Tim is a bit of a stalker, but he always has been so its in character. ________________________________

The first thing Tim ever did after meeting you was run a background check.

It had become second nature at that point. A habit he picked up when he was younger that just stuck. Tim had an obsessive personality, so it was a natural habit- or maybe he forced this habit on himself. He's always been one to bite off more than he can chew and then force himself too sallow.

You checked all the boxes. Funny, beautiful, nice to be around, easy to get along with, clean background, you could handle yourself in a fight. You told him you took self defense classes which made sense in Gotham- and had a promising future. Everything a Wayne would be expected to look for in a partner.

It was a bonus that you had a crush on him. It made it easy.

Tim Drake, the smart and handsome boy in your class. It was natural that when he asked you to go out with him, you'd say yes.

Tim was a pretty calculated person, because of his... nighttime activities he had also gotten into the habit of never allowing much room for error. He planned ahead to even minor details.

It was because of all these things you and Tim began your relationship.

“We had a date… We’re are you?” Another reason you and Tim stayed together. You were unbelievably patient. He saw it when he came rushing into the nice restaurant he booked for the two of you- regular clothes and a hastily bought slightly ruined bouquet. All while you sat in a nice dress, a half eaten meal in front of you. You weren’t the type to blow up and get upset, you kept your feelings inside and that worked for him.

Funnily- err, no… horribly enough, Tim never told you why he was late for every other date. Instead he choose a simpler much easier route. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t find my keys.”

It worked because no matter how shallow or hard to believe the lies were… you took them. Took them and smiled while you tried to forget about it and enjoy the rest of the night with your boyfriend.

Often it felt like going through the motions with you. You’d smile and enjoy the time you spent with the boy and then wave him goodbye. Being with Tim… it felt so surface level. It felt lonely… Gifts were used as an excuse to not spend real… physical time with you. So, you’d just smile at the flowers you got at your door and the teddy bear, even if they were stereotypical nonpersonal things to give a partner.

While you didn’t know If you loved your own boyfriend, you knew you admired him. You admired how he kept himself in shape despite how busy he was, how he managed all his work with the side projects he kept up with- how he juggled his family. All of it. You admired how he seemed to work for what he had.

You admired how he always seemed so tired. Too tired to properly hide the aspects he didn't want you to see. But you chose to not see them. Not let him know you saw through it. Not giving anything away he didn't want.

Still, all those things kept him so… distant. Like a wall being put up in front of you, hiding him away.

Would it be clingy to tell him to call more?

He was already so busy; how did he juggle you with his life? It seemed hard. At times you thought he was cheating on you but with how public he and you were… it was a fleeting thought. Did Tim even enjoy the time you two did have together?

You’d often question your relationship with the Wayne boy.

You questioned a lot of things. Some you’d question only later. Later when you awoke from the coma that… that monster put you in.

But before that... before any of that. “Catwomen got your tongue?” You’d giggle and poke the boy's shoulder. He was definitely upset today; you'd blame the lack of sleep- he blames your curiosity. “Hey, talk to me..?”

“I’m sorry, I’m kind of busy right now.” He frowned slapping your hand your touch away and you could only pout to hide the hurt in your chest.

.

.

The first time Tim held you hand your cheeks hurt from smiling.

.

.

The worst part of everything to Tim. He didn't even know if he did love you.

There was exactly ten times Tim wished he told you it. Once he did, mostly to get you off his back. Did that make him a horrible person?

He liked you. He liked how easy you were. He liked how you trusted him. He liked how you let him lie to you. He liked how your felt against him, how you would get up to get him another energy drink instead of nagging him about his health. Not that you weren't concerned about the amount of caffeine he consumed you had been clear you were...

He liked when he was a little more careless, having you against him while he typed away on his computer. You holding his drink for him, head on his shoulder, just tired enough to not see what he was really working on. he thought at least... He liked having you against him when he got back... When he saw you again he liked having you around. He enjoyed feeling you against him, your skin on his... Hold you close and just... feel. Feel your body heat against his when he'd get back from patrolling those cold Gotham nights. Rip that same old suit off and climb into bed, embrace that skin to skin contact he so easily grew addicted too.

It was a funny joke with Gothamites that Tim Drake, the son of Bruce Wayne was a coffee addict. Tim had an obsessive personality, so it wasn't out of character. Every post with him in it had a mug, which never helped with the so-called rumors.

As he scrolled on his phone, he didn't even notice the mugs slowly disappearing. Instead, you were on his arm in every photo... Huh...

He didn't know if he loved you. He probably never would anymore... He probably didn't. I mean, what kind of man scrolls on his phone while holding the hand of their supposed lover? Especially when you were hooked up to wires...

But, it hurt too look at you. See you in that state. Not knowing if you'd wake up. The ache in his chest... It lessened when he adverted his eyes and stared at his phone.

If his touch was the sun, you were the earth. If he was your sun, that meant he failed you. When the sun combusts, the earth will die, and the sun combusted, broke under the pleasure.

He should've been a better boyfriend...

If he was, he would have at least known what kind of flowers to bring you...

Roses... felt too basic. To... impersonal.

___________________________________________

A/N: I hate hate hate hate my writing! Bleh. This all felt tooooo flat.

[silverflqmes]

Hihi! I'm wondering if you're okay writing nsfw / smut (dont know the right term) for zack fair, could i request some thigh fucking headcannons'? (Applogies if my english isnt to great, thanks for reading if you see this 😊)

໒⦂ 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓.

notes. hello anon! super duper sorry for the wait, i don’t write nsfw very often and if i get requests, i tend to take a lot of time writing them ahaha.. but i hope these hcs are to your liking, i feel like they’re a little rushed., furthermore the reader is female, i hope that’s okay!

genre. nsfw

tw. thigh fucking, semi-public sex, fondling, praise / body worship, dirty talk, needy portrayal of zack if you squint, after care, mirror sex.

disclaimer. uncomfortable with smut or younger than 17? please dni.

zack fair x fem!reader.

⌗ being a first class SOLDIER as zack was, there was hardly any time for full blown sex with how unpredictable his schedule could be. missions could either be in midgar, outside of midgar, slow or constant — the schedule was totally sporadic with the lack of firsts.

⌗ usually any need for release is often met during combat since he’s blowing off steam in battle, so in those cases — sexual activity isn’t needed.

⌗ but when fighting is not used as an output, he does tend to get pent up. it would make sense for a SOLDIER to have a load of energy to burn off, and zack being as antsy as he is to get some movement in.. he’s like a whiny thing in heat at times..

⌗ and so, that’s where you would come in.

⌗ there is little time on his hands but he just needs you so badly in instances like these. other times, he is of course your sweet and adoring boyfriend. showering you in hugs and the sweetest of kisses but real talk, a guy can get horny. especially if he’s getting zero action, mission and / or sex wise.

⌗ although, you couldn’t lie and say that you didn’t want your boyfriend plunging himself in between your thighs behind closed curtains, brushing all along your clit in just the right way while he grips your hips, grinding his own into your backside.

⌗ sometimes he just can’t hold himself back from dragging you away from your work into his office or an empty space just to get some friction and skin on skin contact from you. your thighs just feel so so soft and rub against him perfectly each time. and whenever you squeeze, the tightness is all the more pleasing.

⌗ oftentimes, he’s gotta be on the clock, though.. so his pace can be a little rougher and quicker with you, but he’s always careful to hold you close, aware that his enhanced strength can sometimes be.. a bit much.

⌗ still, you’d brace your hands against the wall or desk, anyway, and watch as he appeared and reappeared between your thighs in an intoxicating rhythm that makes you forget your work even existed.

⌗ because you both have to be quiet and he gets so needy for more of you, he would turn your head to the side to capture your lips in a feverish kiss while he continues slotting himself between your legs.

⌗ at times his hands would slide from your waist underneath your shirt to feel up your chest. he’d squeeze, fondle and knead them together, pinching your hardened nipples all while he continued delivering himself between your thighs.

⌗ and when he misses you too much, he’ll want to do it while facing one another — which can be sloppier, but he wants to look at your pretty face while he’s fucking your thighs, and feel your body flush against his own.

⌗ it’s not always fast and rough though, rest assured. whenever there is more time at your disposal, and within the comfort of your home, it can also be slow and sensual. a way for you to feel every detail of him that he had to offer as he holds you close to him. certainly when he’s returned from an away mission, knowing you’d both missed each other dearly.

⌗ unfortunately, things can get messy, but even if he’s on the clock, zack always makes the time to clean you up and help get the both of you back in order. he can’t just go sending you off, he’s a gentleman!

⌗ our resident puppy can be vocal a lot, especially if he hasn’t gotten the chance to be intimate like this with you for a bit.. so expect a load of praise and worshipping out of him, cuz he’s got lots to say.. but also some whining of his own- so praise him too.

⌗ “f-fuck, you feel so good against me, baby.. wish i could just have you like this all day, can hardly even wait until later..”

⌗ “mm, squeeze me just like that, yeah. you’re doing so well, y/n.. can’t contain myself any longer, i gotta have you tonight again too to hold me over at t-this rate..”

⌗ ooh and he loves doing it in front of a mirror. to witness every expression you make, and see your reactions just makes the experience all the more delectable.

notes. sorry if this was shorter than anticipated, i hope it’s somewhat decent?? i tried to come up with different things to pair with the thigh fucking since it’s.. a little dull on its own😭 anyway, hope you enjoyed! tysm for the request and for your patience<3

↳ return to main masterlist . request rules . send an ask

[deathbxnny]

Hello! Could I request some Xianyun, Guizhong and Rukkhashava x Immortal genius yet somewhag lazy Gn!Reader? (The reader is one if not the most intelligent people on all of Teyvat. Their craft so top tier that most people considered them a deity for their impressive knowledge and craft. They are basically unrivaled in terms of intelligent solving the most complex and complicated problems in a matter of seconds and have the besg stategic and organization skills. But because of this they often find themselves unmotivated or bored pretty quickly not giving them enough motivation to work much)

Genshin women with a lazy Immortal!Reader. | Rukkhadevata, Xianyun, Guizhong x Gn!Reader

Hello Anon!! Thank you for your request, and I am sorry for taking so long. I hope you'll like this!<3

Content: Immortal reader, unserious, established relationship, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not proofread))

》RUKKHADEVATA

She loves your mind and the way it overflows with wisdom daily, despite your clear lack of motivation for anything. Working around your laziness to earn more of your cherished thoughts and opinions has become somewhat of a little challenge for her that she enjoys. You indirectly get her to theorize deeply and contemplate every crumb of knowledge you give her, something she craves.

With that said, your place as a near diety at her side is greatly respected by her own people. You are seen as a savior, as a second power to her home, and every opinion you do muster up the energy for to share is listened to gratefully by her. She therefore doesn't mind your lazy nature and perhaps even thinks that you're deserving of it. Someone so intelligent deserved to rest their mind every now and then after all.

She hopes to experience the world changing and evolving at your side, whilst you two share it's knowledge at your own pace.

》XIANYUN

Slacking off with her around is impossible, to say the least. Your highly respected status in Liyue is near disregarded by her every time she drags you out of your resting place to work with her on a new project. Attempting to hide is never an option, either. She sees your laziness as a self hindrance and doesn't want you to waste your talents so easily. She may nag you at times, but even you know she means it well.

Xianyun always has you inspecting her newest creations and demands you give her detailed feedback on each one. You indirectly push her to do better and match your own intelligence, but your easygoing nature often allows her to outdo you, something she's smug about. She, however, still often times wishes you'd find the motivation to craft something with her, which you do after enough (affectionate) nagging.

She respects you for the immortal genius that you are but doesn't treat you any differently from anyone else. If anything, she wants to see you grow even stronger at her side.

》GUIZHONG

She gets it. She really does. There are days when even she would rather slack off than work on her latest projects, something you take full advantage of. But when she is able to resist your lazy temptations, she makes you work alongside her and does her best to make the activities as fun as possible. Whether it was creating new battle strategies to aid Rex Lapis with or creating projects for the both of you, she was always able to spin things in a way that did get you to work in the end. She also would just kindly ask you for help often or for your expertise in general, as you rarely ever said no to her.

She never liked pushing you too much, though, as she feared somehow overworking you or making you feel like she only wanted you for your intelligence. Guizhong, therefore, allowed you to laze with her in her home whenever you have some downtime where she'd play instruments or sing for you. In a way, she worshipped you as a diety, too, even if quietly through her own special way.

Guizhong sees herself as lucky to have you, especially as she doesn't always understand how she was able to acquire such a strong and intelligent person like you.

[xlatrina]

(Pt. II.2) Friends to Lovers HCs w/Homicipher x GN!Reader

Tags: Platonic + Romantic HCs, Friends to Lovers trope for basically every LI, Likely OOC for some LIs*, Mini Scenarios (so HCs are kinda plot-driven), *Multi-Part Series, entirely SFW

Also, changing tenses in some cases + not proofread again... sorry!

*Some of the LIs are likely written OOC (Out Of Character) mainly due to a lack of substantial in-game appearances (at least in my opinion!). 

*Split into multiple parts because I’ve come to realize that these HCs are muuucccchhh too long 😅 BUT!! I’m too lazy to shorten them sooo… YEAH lol

Part I (Big 🙆‍♂️)

Part II (Mr. Chopped 🪓)

Part III (Mr. Crawling 👣)

$$$

Mr. Chopped (First Half/Second Half)

Cont.

Mr. Chopped is the type to get super lost in his stories. So lost that his face often morphs accordingly based on whatever he’s babbling about.

When he tells you about the state of his missing body, you watch his face morph from shock to sadness, to confusion, to an adorable pout, and then to excitement.

When he tries to explain his first few encounters with Mr. Silvair (which were rough, since Mr. Silvair appears to be the one who separated Mr. Chopped from his body in the first place), Mr. Chopped’s face morphs from fear to distrust to shock to joy.

This little man is just so darn expressive!

His feelings for you grow as you open up to him more and more.

You tell him about your experiences at work, and you tell him about an internship you finished some time ago (relative to whenever you ended up trapped in the Apartments).

You then tell him about some of your hobbies.

When you suggest doing one or two with him, he beams up at you with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on him!

He’s probably blushing so baadddd at the thought of it lol

One-on-one personal time for an even longer period of time than usual???

An activity you enjoy that you choose to only ever share with him and him alone??

Even though he’s just a head and you have literally so many other options who all possess bodies and can get around on their own to at least some extent??!

WHAOXOANALXNDLFLDBAHAGVSBSKCKFLDM

At some point, he convinces you to follow his directions to a particular room. 

When you get there, you find yourself feeling a little uncomfortable.

“Here darkness,” you say. “We together go find light?”

“Is okay,” Mr. Chopped says. “Go that way! Hurry! Fast!”

You listen and approach a small square in the wall.

Briefly, you wonder if Mr. Gap might be in there, but it seems like the hole is empty.

“Enter! Enter!” Mr. Chopped bounces in your grasp excitedly.

You enter the crawl space and pull yourself through.

Soon, the darkness morphs into a faint whitish color.

Your heart jumps at the senses being triggered as you approach.

You finally come across a small hole, and through it, you peer at a sight you haven’t seen in a long time, your mouth agape as Mr. Chopped watches you excitedly.

The sound of clicking on stones draws your eyes to the heeled shoes strutting back and forth past the hole.

There’s the sound of chatter, laughter, shouting, horns, music…

Something smells good. Sooooo good…

Fresh food. Something’s being grilled…

Damn! Your mouth is starting to water!

“This place where?” You ask, pressing Mr. Chopped closer to your face. It was a super small space, after all.

“This place go to other area! Not know where area is, but if possible, me want to go!” Mr. Chopped grins at you, and you can’t help grinning back.

“Wow…” you say. “This is so cool. I wonder if those people will notice me if I reach out to them, though?”

Mentally, you waved the thought away just as quickly as you thought it.

After all, you promised your friends here some weeks ago that you’d stay. And while you could certainly always change your mind, well…

At the moment, you don’t really have a desire to leave.

“I’m happy you decided to share this with me, Mr. Chopped.” You smile sweetly at him.

“What you say? You happy?” He asks. You giggle at him.

“Am happy together we come here. Am grateful you bring me here. Am lots happy!” You say.

Mr. Chopped's face grows into a deep purplish color.

Mr. Chopped lets out a happy sound, his eyes pressing up into a cute squint.

“You happy!! Me lots happy to see you happy!! This place here for you and me now. We come together here now! You understand??” Mr. Chopped asks.

You giggle, and say “Okay, me understand now.”

…

I think I got carried away there LMAO

Anyway, I feel like with all of that being said, after hanging around you for a while and developing a mutual crush, there will eventually come a time when Mr. Chopped gets tired of this long period of unknowing…

Like, you two are OBVIOUSLY super close to each other —much closer than either of you are to anybody else there!

Y’all are at a point where y'all hesitate to even call each other friends!!

And to be so real with you, my guy…

Mr. Chopped has just straight up stopped calling you his friend!!

And it’s kinda awkward for others…

Cuz like… what exactly are you two???

At some point, Mr. Chopped will probably more or less ask you.

“You enjoy me, and me enjoy you. But together we not friends. You and me together what??”

Because you didn’t immediately answer in like 0.02 seconds, he immediately became fussy and demanded to be taken to Mr. Silvair.

And once you take him there, Mr. Chopped dismisses you, so… yeah…

A few days pass and you start to really miss Mr. Chopped.

I mean, he can’t possibly be that mad, right?? What even happened back then anyway to get him so mad in the first place??

You decide to go see him.

You don’t plan on apologizing because, like… what exactly would you be apologizing for??

But!! You want to get to the bottom of your sudden dismissal that day!!

And if come to find out you did offend him somehow, then you’ll apologize—because it most certainly wasn’t your intention.

Anyway, he wasn’t hard to find, thankfully. He was chilling in the lounge next to the infirmary room, which means Mr. Silvair was likely in the operating room doing… Silvair things in there.

He’s nodding off, going in and out of sleep.

It’s literally soooo adorable to look at.

But you’re here on a mission, so no getting distracted!!

Anywho, you startle Mr. Chopped, and he fusses at you accordingly.

But you cut to the chase, demanding to know why he was so upset the other day and dismissed you like that.

He pouts and says something like, “Me give question, and you not answer!” 

Suddenly, he smiles at you. “But is okay, I give answer for you!!”

“Huh?? What you mean?” You ask.

Joyfully, he responds, “You and me together now! You understand?”

OH WOW.

Erm…

Well.

You now have a boyfriend, and that’s just what it is. 

But hey!!

At least your boyfriend is super cute!! And fun!! And connected to a pretty smart, innovative guy like Silvair!

And!! Mr. Chopped absolutely adores EVERYTHING about you!!

You and Silvair are the closest people to him.

But, between you and him…

You’re obviously a little more special to him than Mr. Silvair!

[Part I (Mr. Big 🙆‍♂️) | Part II (Mr. Chopped 🪓, First Half/Second Half), Part III (Mr. Crawling 👣)]

[brilium]

ˋ°•-⁀➷ Tattoo Artist! Eren Headcanons♡

THIS HAS BEEN ON MY MIND FOR SO LONGGGGG. I wasn't planning to add smut but the things somehow turned out like that hehe

Content warning. fem reader, mention of needles, short smut at the end, praising, watercolor tattoos are beautiful but Eren hates them, I'm sorry.

wc. 1,026.

♡ Tattoo Artist! Eren started doing it as a hobby just to do something in his free time during his freshman year but ended up loving it and being his principal source of money currently.

● When Tattoo Artist! Eren was still learning, he asked Mikasa and Armin if they'd let him tattoo them for practice. Armin instantly said no because he would have to stop attending swimming classes for a month and Mikasa said that she'd only say yes if he let her tattoo his neck in exchange. From that moment, Eren looked for more friends that would say yes and never asked them again for his own safety.

♡ Tattoo Artist! Eren's first person to tattoo was Reiner, he was all excited to get tattooed by his friend and even offered to let him keep tattooing him in the future. Even if Eren hid it, he was actually so moved that his friend trusted in him that much.

●Tattoo Artist! Eren social media is 100% tattoo. You want to know his face? Make an appointment for a tattoo though his IG and meet him in real life because he doesn't have any other social media.

♡ Tattoo Artist! Eren loves to do black work but hates the watercolor style. Ironically, because he thinks that is too off.

●Tattoo Artist! Eren is not a fuckboy but has a… very active sexual life. There's even a small box of condoms in a drawer on his station, just in case.

♡ Tattoo Artist! Eren is not full body tattooed but at least his right arm is fully covered with tattoos. There's some on his left hand and forearm, chest and a small "C" because of his mother's name behind his ear. Carla supports his passion for his job but sighs every time he comes to visit her with more ink on his body; still, she excuses that one just because she loves him and is so proud.

●Tattoo Artist! Eren loves his friends, even if they are a pain the ass as coworkers. He owns a small studio with Jean, Connie and Sasha, that damn trio… Also! They decided to call the studio Squad 104 just because that was the class number where they and their other friends met at uni. Even though it was too cheesy, Eren agreed it with a smile.

♡ Even though, Tattoo Artist! Eren hates Jean's lack of organization, causing him or the others to have to take the clients that he frequently schedules on the same day as others. He sighs when Jean knocks at his door, asking him to take a client tomorrow because he already had plans at that time.

● His jaw drops once you cross the principal door of the studio the next day asking for Yeager Ink. Tattoo Artist! Eren is not a believer, but he's starting to think that he got blessed by taking that medium flower design. The best part? Is not a damn watercolor tattoo.

♡ Ass man? Tits man? Fuck, no. Tattoo Artist! Eren turns into a loyal thighs man the second you lie on his massage bed to the side and lift your skirt to point that you want the tattoo on the side part of your thigh. He loves the way you nod blushed when he asks if it's your first tattoo.

●Tattoo Artist! Eren sighs feeling like this is going to be a long session from the moment when he puts on the stencil guide for the tattoo and notices that you chose a thin black lingerie; As a tattoo artist, he thanks you for choosing the right clothes to make it easier for both, but the hard pain starting to grow on his jeans is really suffering right now.

♡Tattoo Artist! Eren glups hard once he starts and you can't help but squirm and whimper of pain. It's one of the least painful parts and you're already whining? That's the fucking cutest thing in the world. He tries to distract you by making small talk, knowing about your interests, your degree, age, the fact that you're single…

●Tattoo Artist! Eren starts to flirt subtly with you trying to see if you are comfortable; teasing you for being so sensitive to the pain, caressing softly your thigh when he cleans you with the wipe, complimenting your soft skin, telling you about which places you barely feel the pain for some future tattoos…

♡Tattoo Artist! Eren is trying so hard to hold himself when you dig your nails on his arm the moment he's on the black filling and shadows. You're blushing and nervous when he's wrapping your leg with the plastic protection while you apologize for hurting him, he can't help but smile and lean closer to you and thank you for being such a good strong girl the whole session.

●Tattoo Artist! Eren tries to be as gentle as possible with you, fucking you from behind, standing against the wall to not hurt the fresh tattoo on your leg with the massage bed. "Yeah, keep it like that, gorgeous. The needle on your skin was nothing, you can hold my dick in this sweet cunt, baby"

♡Tattoo Artist! Eren notices the weakness on your legs, so he turns you to face him and grabs you under the thighs to lift you and push you against the wall with every thrust. Your moans begging him to not stop are the sweetest sound he heard in his whole life.

●Tattoo Artist! Eren's station smells like sex after you both reach the orgasm, he gently seats you on the bed while he cleans the mess. Your gaze on his strong tattooed arms moving around almost makes you jump into him for a next round but your legs are sore for many reasons…

♡Tattoo Artist! Eren is a professional. He always seeks for the safety of his clients, so don't be surprised to receive a message from him to meet again "to check if the tattoo is healing correctly". He smiles widely when you immediately answer saying yes and asking if he's up for another session as soon as possible…

Should I make a part two? 👀

[seresinhangmanjake]

Perfect for Me, Baby

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader Drabble

Summary: you have a poor self-image moment and Jake is there for you.

Warnings: Self-judgement. Body image. Also, it's just a little fluff.

Notes: This was a request. Sorry it took me a week or so. A lot happened and I had to take a break for a second :)

Words: 1125

---

There are bumps on the outsides of your thighs. Ripples and dimples in the skin that mar any possibility of silky smoothness. Under the glow of your bedroom lamp, those minor details of your body are prominent enough to cast dark shadows of imperfection. 

You’re surprised you care. Months ago, before him, you wouldn’t have. You wouldn’t have even noticed. You wouldn’t have paused in the shower as your soapy fingers ran over lumpy flesh when you massaged your legs. You wouldn’t have developed the nagging itch to question what other areas of your body aren’t perfect. And you definitely wouldn’t be standing in front of your full-length mirror with your dress hiked up to your waist so you could hunt for additional flaws. 

You feel ridiculous, looking like a little girl who doesn’t understand how to keep her skirt down when running on the playground at school. But you lack their attitude, their care-free quality, and suddenly a twinge of jealousy blooms. You wish you could be like them…those little girls who don’t give a shit. 

Just a week ago you were different. You walked naked through your apartment; you ate breakfast cereal in your underwear as you watched the morning news; you jumped your boyfriend the second he walked through the front door at the end of the day and didn’t let him out of your arms until you were both worn and satisfied. But now, for the first time since Jake Seresin convinced you to be his, you are hiding yourself.

You know he noticed it first when you crawled into bed that night, clad in the pajama set his grandmother had gifted you for Christmas. It covers you fully from neck to ankle. The old woman has no illusions that you sleep in the same bed as her grandson, but that you have a tendency to be very active when in that bed goes completely over her head, thankfully. 

Once spotting the set, Jake's eyebrows rose, silently asking the question of why you wouldn't be sleeping skin-to-skin as usual. You offered him a shy smile and flipped over to nestle into the curve of his body. He said nothing, only draping his arm over your waist to pull your uncommonly clothed back to his bare chest. 

That is something you love about him, though. It isn’t his first instinct to pressure you to tell him every little thought running through your head. He doesn’t demand answers as to your behavior. But unless otherwise requested, there’s a time limit on his silence. Eventually, if you do not open up to him, he will come to you to figure out what you need. And it doesn’t escape you that you are just about out of time. 

“What are you doing?”

You gasp then blush as your eyes meet his in the mirror. Your hand instantly drops the flowered fabric bunched between your fingers, and Jake watches as the light blue material flutters back down around your knees. 

His brows pinch, his eyes running up and down the length of your body. “Are you ok?”

A harsh swallow struggles its way down your throat. As he shuts your bedroom door, you turn to him, fiddling with your fingers and drawing your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“Baby?” he asks, a twinge of suspicion in his tone. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

Jake’s arms cross over his broad chest. “The way you were looking at yourself just then."

You glance back at the mirror and let out an “Oh!” as if just noticing its existence in the room. “That wasn’t anything.”

With a sigh, he shakes his head. A beat passes. Your teeth pull at the thin skin of your lip. “Baby, you’re beautiful,” he finally says, looking up to meet your gaze again. “I don’t know if something happened, if I said something, did something…but you’re perfect.”

The pain in his eyes is exactly what you’ve been afraid of for days. You never wanted him thinking any of it was his fault; that he’s failed you as a boyfriend and lover. But he’s no fool. And neither are you. You recognized the possibility of him placing the weight of your attitude change on his shoulders, and now it seems he has.

“How did you know?”

“You haven’t let me touch you in a week, you’re covered up more often than not, and now I find you looking at yourself with disappointment on your face.” He takes steps closer. “So,” he says, narrowing the space between you, “what did I do?”

“Nothing.”

“No?”

There’s less than a foot separating your body from his and the heat of his skin from the summer sun radiates off of him to warm you. He was outside, you remember. There are beads of sweat soaking through his black t-shirt. Dried trails of the salty liquid forge lines in the dirty coating of his skin—soil from the backyard garden you’d promised to fix up today. You were meant to change out of your dress to join him, until you got distracted. You had no idea how much time had passed. 

“The garden,” you whisper. 

“Hardly matters now.”

“You’re sweaty.”

He smirks. "You like me sweaty.”

“I know, but—”

“Tell me,” comes out softly through his parted lips, “what’s wrong.”

You know better than to attempt to deter him. Your man on a mission is a man who often achieves what he wants. If history dictates anything, nothing distracts him, especially from you. 

“I just,” you pause and he hums, “I noticed some flaws, and for some reason, I feel…gross.”

“Gross?” he snaps, almost offended. 

His eyes flick back and forth between your own, searching for something. A joke, maybe? Then he shakes his head again and slowly lowers to his knees. When his fingers slide under the hem of your dress, moving up your legs, caressing your thighs, it shocks you that you don’t wish to step out of his hold, away from his touch. 

“I don’t know,” he says with a click of his tongue. “You feel damn good to me, baby.” Fingers press into the flesh of your ass cheeks and squeeze. With your squeak of surprise, his eyes meet yours. “Soft, and warm, and grabbable as always.”

Your lips tick upwards and his spread wide, displaying every pearly white tooth in the grin that won you over all those months ago. 

“I’m not going to push you,” he continues,” but when you’re ready, I’m going to prove to you just how perfect you are.” Then he leans forward and presses a kiss to one of the red flowers printed on the fabric that covers your lower stomach. “And when I’m done, you’ll never question it again.”

---

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @cinderellasmissingshoe @leila22rogers

[kit-williams]

So I read your piece about Honsu. That would be great. And you know, we joke and analyze about fetishes, kinks and sexual attraction in Astartes.

But! I think it's pretty weird that traitors didn't return sexual attraction to Space Marines…

Since the lack of sexual desire is due to the fact that the Emperor did not want a new species to appear. But traitors consider themselves above mortals, so why not return sexual desire to them? GW has lost so much potential.

Well, yes, it will be very funny to watch how traitors would cope with new emotions. Those who have had sex or know about it, will immediately figure it out.

But the rest… I imagine how they look at women like crazy maniacs, not knowing what to do or what to say. Given their psyche and testosterone, their heads will simply explode from emotions.

If before they simply killed and tortured mortals, they were irritated by weakness. Now they suddenly started to like it. Are you crying? Your tears will be wiped away and you will be told that you are beautiful. In the most horrible way.

Are you pregnant? Will you name the child after him? Have you given birth yet? Now breastfeed quickly, and the Astartes will watch.

And courtship?

The Night Lord will give you human hearts and cloaks of leather.

The Emperor's Children will read you their poetry and sing. But since this is Slaanesh, prepare for vulgarity.

Iron Warriors: romance is kidnapping you and locking you in a cage.

And yes. All. All Space Marines will make you watch them fight and kill. Because it is sexy.

And so begins the Space Marines' Human Husbandary. An extremely creepy and scary thing…. I'll write about it one day.

Listen Honsou was just speeding things up when he was making the Demonculaba; you can't look at that thing and be like "there's some psychosexual things to be unpacked here."

Did you know that there's roughly 350ish generations within the span of 10,000 years (I have a feeling if chaos wasn't fucking around there would be a new species... then again Bile made his New Humans and basically unleashed them into populations

But you are right the traitors will have to deal with it first and I can imagine that it hits them suddenly since its so new and Space Marines are experts in handling new sensations.

But it might also be a difference between falling to chaos and simply turning traitor which one might activate that feeling earlier while the other is more of an ability to indulge that curiosity. Either way I hope these satisfy I know for some of them I could write something longer... it's probably obvious what ones I could

(1) sorry it took so long to do these and 2) sorry I went fuckin ham as there are 6 blurbs here )

tw: dubious consent, noncon, bone breaking, abduction, every single one of these is a traitor/chaos marine so that general unpleasantness so please let me know if I need to tag something

The Plague Marine could not figure out why his eyes remained on the female thralls and cultists... he didn't trust himself not to hurt them anymore. He was thankful for his helmet being on most of the time as the intense look in his eyes surely made them all cower and fear till...she got too close and he couldn't stop. He at least stopped before he fully broke all her bones... Grandfather would help him... Grandfather knew what was afflicting him. As while she was this pathetic mewling and weeping thing in his grasp he wanted to crush her again.

She was desperately crawling away as of course she would get hurt and have to be left to die. Oh she didn't want to die in the torturous way they would think up for her. He knew she didn't want to die... all prey didn't want to die and yet they knew all up until that last moment of life. He could practically hear the wild heartbeat and the way her wide prey like eyes locked onto his form as she let out the most beautifully frightened scream as the fallen Raven Guard barrels toward her. But before his claws sink in he skids to a stop and he watches her bite her bottom lip till it bleeds to stop the shrieking. His black eyes are fixated on the tears rolling down her cheeks like raindrops... his mutated palm wiping away those tears with the wet skin feeling so soft to him. His warped voice croons softly, his voice a breathy whisper, "You're so beautiful." He grins as she just starts to scream again.

He didn't need a bed slave... he was beyond that as blood shed was all he needed but he took you for a moment of relief... frail and weak thing that was destined to die in a myriad of horrible ways. But he liked the feeling of you around him... he liked you being a pathetic sad thing. He liked the way you bled and cried... till you stopped bleeding one day and grew fat with his young... he didn't need you... and yet you feel so good around him... and whatever you leaked from your breast felt good upon his tongue.

Courtship? I think you mean them just doting upon you and giving you attention.

You were so alone at this point that it was hardly safe to simply exist... ever since you got that first heart and the entire perfectly skinned human cloak everyone started to avoid you and the hearts and leather didn't stop... you're going to die... you know it you're going to die and you think it as you're hiding and weeping when behind you comes a Night Lord. He coos to you petting your head as you feel so numb you take the comfort just praying to anyone bothering to listen to have him make it quick. "Mmm you're clinging to me so tightly... are you scared? Do you need someone to protect you?" You don't know why you nod as you just hope you die soon. "At least I know you've enjoyed my gifts," He croons watching you finally react with dread horror as he just grins down at you and yet you do not struggle to pull away. Its over for you and you just accept your fate....

He sings to you as you lay there a quivering mess... just a tryst he tells himself as his fingers move up your spine having claimed you as his prize from another brother. He had grown tired of the cacophonous noise that spewed from his now dead comrade and he was only now just indulging in the soft noises you made. The panting and whimpering as his song was soft and low with tantalizing lyrics interspersed. You looked prettier covered in blood... with that fight left in your eyes as you rage against the inevitable end and he at the end of his perfected blade would have given it to you had that battle brother not interrupted. You should have died in such perfected death but he supposed it had been far too long since he indulged himself. And instead of quivering from blood loss and pain you quivered from overstimulation and pleasure. He deserved a nice little treat for his centuries of perfection...

You looked so sad simply attached to the repugnant mortal how your pretty eyes were dimmed and glazed the smile on your face fake. But not to him. You only tried the half hearted attempts to seduce him as you were ordered. You looked so relieved when all he wanted to do was hold you... that breathy thank you. Oh he was certain you would thank him soon enough. You didn't bother to run as you hid in the room that you could never seem to escape... no one would bother to save a body slave much less one of your rank you were at most a warm body to be enjoyed. You had hidden yourself in the back of the closet amongst the gaudy and billowing fabric outfits... you had seen the Astartes check the room before leaving and you had hopped that he was gone. But what luck did someone like you have as he came back and you recognized that crooning voice, "What a good girl... staying right there." It was the Iron Warrior that simply held you instead of fucking you... you hugged your knees tighter as the chains in his hand looked heavy and all you could do was watch in horror as he got closer... and closer... and the little voice inside of you hoped he wouldn't hurt you.

Oh if you do write the human husbandry please tag me I dont think I've got it in me to do it justice.

@bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

@thevoidscreams @barn-anon @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @squishyowl

@nekotaetae @sleepyfan-blog @remembrancer-of-heresy

[kkvqwrites]

"You're sure about this?"

Trying anal with Simon for the first time. That's it, that's the plot.

***NSFW! 18+, minors DNI***

Word count: 2,121

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, fem!reader

CW: explicit sexual content, anal sex, anal play, fingering, PIV sex, oral sex, unprotected sex, bedroom talk, praise kink, size kink.

a/n: I was lamenting the lack of fics about this specifically, when I remembered that that's what I do. Be the butt stuff fic you wish to see in the world, as they say. Also I'm sorry they keep turning out so long. Anyway, enjoy!

It was frankly silly how nervous you were bringing it up. You knew firsthand how positively filthy Simon was comfortable getting in bed, and had reaped the benefits on countless occasions.

To say he was a thorough and generous lover would be correct, but would also be an understatement. In the best way possible, satisfying you was treated like a mission and therefore executed with flawless precision and unwavering focus. In short, he wasn't done until you were walking like a newborn deer and didn't know your own name.

On top of that, despite being a meat-and-potatoes man in the sense that Simon didn't require any frills in order to enjoy himself, he was always down to try your suggestions and explore new ways to blow your mind.

And yet, despite all this, you couldn't meet his eyes as you mumbled your request, much to his amusement.

"What's got you all flustered, love?" he nudged you good-naturedly in an attempt to make you more comfortable.

"I want to try.... anal." You whispered that last part, but he heard it.

His eyes widened as he considered you carefully. This is it, you thought, he's grossed out. I pushed it too far. You two were silent for a few seconds, your face heating. You were about to take it back and say you were kidding when he chuckled, eyes suddenly alight with interest.

"Well why didn't you say so? S'pose we'd have to work up to it a bit..." he trailed off, eyes roaming your body. Clearly he was down to start practicing immediately if you gave the go-ahead.

He was correct; Simon was big, in every sense of the word, and you loved how he stretched you to your limits and made you see stars. Taking him in your ass wasn't going to be an overnight accomplishment. However, you knew how important it was to him to take care of you in all ways and trusted him implicitly not to rush things.

Pulling him in for a kiss, you gave the go-ahead.

_________________

It had started innocently enough. During a rather vigorous fingering, Simon's hand had slipped because of how wet you were and ended up accidentally breaching your other hole. It startled you, and he immediately checked in and apologized before continuing to make you squeal his name. He loved to overwhelm you with his mouth and his hands before letting you have his cock, loved how responsive and eager it made you for that final conquest.

What you didn't tell him at the time, both because it surprised you and because you were out of your mind with pleasure, was that you had liked it. A lot. So much so that you kept thinking about it for days after, the tantalizing idea weaving its way into your regular fantasies until it felt like the most natural thing in the world. You trusted Simon with your body, and you wanted him to have all of it.

Your play continued in much the same way, incorporating your ass into your other bedroom activities. It started with a finger, then two, while he sucked your clit until you couldn't breathe. You could tell by his low, throaty groan that he noticed how it made your toes curl and made your fingers tangle in his hair and pull hard. You could tell by how mercilessly he fucked you after that he liked it, too.

Toys came next, small ones at first designed to just get you used to the feeling of having something up there. The sensation unlocked a level of neediness you hadn't anticipated. Suddenly you couldn't have enough of him. Usually content to be his rag doll, all of a sudden you were pouncing on him seeking satisfaction. This thrilled Simon, who saw to it that you had a good selection of plugs that fit whatever the mood was when you decided it was that kind of night. His favorite had a little pink jewel on the end; it drove him crazy looking at it while he took you from behind. You slipped it in and wore it around the kitchen while you prepared his tea one morning, teasing him with the sight. Needless to say, you were walking funny the next day.

_________________

"You're sure about this?"

Simon's voice was husky with desire as he stood behind you and kissed down your neck onto your shoulder. You leaned back into his embrace, hips grinding into him of their own accord.

"Please, Simon..." you whined breathlessly as his hands explored your curves, riling you up. "I'm ready."

"Well, who am I to deny my eager girl when she asks so nicely?"

In a haze of kisses and intertwining limbs, you both found your way into the bed.

"Tell me again what you want me to do to you, you filthy little thing," he spoke into your inner thigh as he kissed and nibbled his way to his prize. Hovering, he planted kisses and blew light breaths around your pussy but refused to touch the spot he knew you wanted. He looked up at you, an unspoken directive in his expression. He wasn't going to give you what you were after until you obeyed. Bastard.

"I want you in my ass, Simon. I want you to stretch me and fuck me and - oh..." your words got lost as you felt his mouth close around your clit, sucking the way he knew you liked before pulling away with a wet smacking sound.

"Apologies, pet. You were saying?"

So that's how he was gonna be. No problem, you thought, two can play at that game. Rather than wait for him to continue, and certainly rather than give in and beg, you ran your hand in a slow line down your torso, stopping to tweak your nipple along the way. Simon sat still as a statue, eyes taking in your every movement with a greedy hunger. His lips parted once more as he watched your fingers slowly circle your clit, delicately caress your folds, and finally dip inside. With a luxurious sigh, you brought your fingers back up to rub small circles around your nub, biting your lip when it started to feel really good.

"I was saying," you said, voice becoming tight with pleasure, "how badly I want to feel you in every hole. I was saying how bad I want it, how I can't wait anymore, how-"

A large hand encircled your wrist, interrupting it from its task and pinning it to the bed beside you as Simon climbed on top, planting scorching kisses along your skin the whole way. When the two of you were eye level, he looked at you for a long moment.

"If it's too much, if I hurt you, you have to tell me."

A warm feeling spread in your chest despite the impatience you felt. You knew, in your bones, that he'd stop on a dime no matter the circumstance if you told him to. That he needed to know you would, needed to trust you the same way you trusted him.

"I will, I promise."

Seemingly satisfied, he kissed your forehead before pulling away. Gently and with great care, he positioned you on your stomach, propping up your hips with pillows until you were comfortable. Your breath hitched as you felt the bed dip under his weight behind you and felt his warm, strong hands cup your ass. Rather than linger there, however, his hands roamed lazily up and down your back. You sighed as you felt muscles relax under his touch, sinking further into the pillows and allowing your eyes to drift closed.

The lube was cold as it dripped between your cheeks, interrupting your cozy daydreams and making you jump slightly.

"Shit, sorry love."

"It's okay."

Your voice was small. You didn't know why, but you were suddenly self-conscious. This was it; this was the threshold. His finger slowly started to massage your hole in soft circles, loosening up the clenched ring of muscle and working its way in to the knuckle before pausing to let you relax around him. He waited for you to nod before continuing, adding a finger and grunting his approval at the moan that escaped your lips.

"That's it, open up for me," he coaxed as he worked his fingers in and out. Your hips began to move in time with his hand, a breathy whimper rewarding him each time his knuckles met your flesh. When he was satisfied and you were ready to tear your hair out in anticipation, he withdrew his hand. Just as you were about to whine in protest, you heard the cap to the lube bottle snap open. When you didn't feel it, you looked behind you to see him fisting his impressive cock, spreading a generous amount of lube from the tip to the hilt. You locked eyes with him, certain his dazed and hungry expression matched your own.

"Are you ready?"

You could only nod. As he brought his weight over top of you, you faced forward again, squeezing the pillow to keep still. Those hands, huge and warm and achingly gentle, spread you open.

"Such a pretty little hole. Can't wait to ruin it."

That deep, silky voice combined with his filthy words had you squirming despite your best efforts. You needed it now. As if sensing this, he nudged your hole with his blunt tip, gauging your reaction. You tensed on instinct, gasping. He was so big - this was never going to work. What had you been thinking?

Reading your mind once again, Simon planted a kiss between your shoulder blades, the warmth of his body enveloping you. His proximity calmed your racing thoughts and had you relaxing without even realizing it.

"Easy, love," he cooed into your ear. When he felt you relax, he pushed forward slightly, his tip invading you ever so slightly. Your face hit the pillow to muffle the gasp you couldn't help - your toys were nothing compared to this.

Simon eased into you with shallow thrusts, claiming you slightly deeper each time. The stretch was vaguely painful, yet exquisite. If he tried to stop, you thought, you'd lose your mind. Not that there was any danger of him stopping unless you said so; if you had turned around, you would've seen his lust-drunk expression, eyes locked onto where your most private hole stretched around his girth, his teeth clenched as he utilized all his discipline to keep his pace steady and slow.

Finally, what felt like an eternity later, his hips met yours. The two of you moaned in unison at the feeling of becoming one being, of being locked together in this obscene embrace. Simon stilled inside you, letting you adjust to him and letting himself adjust to the vice grip of your tiny hole. You felt so full, so naked, and yet so complete with him inside you.

"Good girl, taking me so well, good girl, good girl..." he chanted into your shoulder as he started moving again, truly fucking you the way you needed. It was nowhere near as punishing as when he fucked you normally, but it didn't need to be. The sensation of him filling you, again and again, had your thighs trembling in no time as you mumbled incoherently into your pillow.

Without needing direction - really, how did he always know?! - one of his hands reached around and began teasing your clit, causing you to throw your head back, finally letting him hear you.

"Simon, I'm.. I'm-"

"I know," he growled into your ear. "That's my girl, cum for me. Nice and loud."

As if he had cast a spell, your core clenched and throbbed as your vision went white. You could hear yourself, as if in third person, wailing his praises as you came undone.

"Fuckin' hell," he sounded almost pained as he thrust forward one last time, spilling himself deep in your guts with a delicious guttural roar. He collapsed forward, putting his weight on his arms to avoid crushing you as you both came back down to earth. When he finally moved to pull out, he trailed kisses down your spine and you gasped at the sudden feeling of emptiness.

"Was that alright? Are you okay?" He fussed as he cleaned you with a warm wet rag. You smiled and nodded, not willing to leave your pleasure-soaked haze and give a real answer. Vaguely, you were aware of him tucking you into the comforter. You had just about dozed off when he himself climbed into the bed, freshly showered and smelling of sandalwood and spearmint. Wordlessly, you rolled into his side and sighed as you sank into a contented sleep.

[willicebattlecatsblog]

pov : willice rants about The Broken Code Jayfeather (SPOILERS FOR THE BROKEN CODE)

It's been a full year now that I decided to re-read every single Warrior Cats books, as a teenager I stopped at OotS, so I re-read all of TPB, TNP, PoT and OotS. I am done with DotC (I have many opinions) and just finished AvoS, so I am starting TBC (currently at book 2).

Clearly the Writing Team™ has big, big issues with how to handle Jayfeather and his personality. Jayfeather was meant te be blunt and to freely voice his anger and concerns with little respects for other feelings sometimes, but he was never meant to be outright mean and antagonistic, was he ?

He went from a personal favorite of mine in PoT and OotS to a very unlikable character in TBC. He actively bullies and isolates Twigkit in AvoS (when he was previously known to be patient with kits??), but I can tolerate this mischaracterization i guess

But TBC Jayfeather ??? I don't know if it's just the Writing Team™ being extremely bad at understanding his character, or if it's the first symptoms of the Onestar disease, but I am kind of scared of how he will evolve in the 4 following books :(((

In the first two books of TBC, Jayfeather can hardly go through a single conversation with / about Shadowsight without straight up insulting him, his intelligence and competences. He had opinions about Willowshine and Kestrelflight, but he would rarely, if ever, straight up disrespect them to their face like that. Now, he actively participates in all the gossip around Shadowsight and characters will say "Jayfeather said Shadowsight is just a featherhead !" because Jay's opinion is that valued and important. (idk the actual English insults, all my books are in French, so you will have to suffer the French horrors sorry guys 😔)

At some point, during a Gathering, Jayfeather just tells everyone that Mothwing doesn't believe in StarClan. In front of the five Clans, the leaders, the deputies, the other warriors, like, everyone. Just because he was personally pissed at her opinion.

Just as a reminder, the Clans are all extremely faithful and the lack of faith has been a plot point several times, showing emphasis on how important it is for all cats to show devotion to StarClan. Medicine cats are literally meant to talk to StarClan. And in general, the Clans are known to be agressive to anyone who doesn't respect StarClan, thinking that if you don't follow StarClan's commands then you don't have any moral values at all.

Another reminder, Mothwing is not only the daughter of Tigerclawstar, she is also an ex rogue. She got her medicine cat title only because her brother created a fake omen, because her status as an ex-rogue made her an outcast in her own Clan. Mothwing has been known to be more vulnerable to isolation than other medicine cats.

So huh, yeah, Jayfeather just put Mothwing, an already vulnerable she-cat, in extreme danger, throwing her under the bus in front of absolutely everyone, including her own leader, her own deputy, most of her clanmates, and most of the other Clans members. Mothwing is shocked, obviously, and quickly says that she does believe StarClan is real, just isn't devoted to them.

The response of the Clans to this revelation is so out of character and disconnected from their agressive violent culture that I had to re-read the whole thing a few times.

The Clans just go "weird flex mothwing, but ok" and go back to their business (business being : questioning why StarClan isn't communicating with them anymore). From what I know, the revelation Jayfeather just made is never going to impact the story ever again because Mothwing gets banished for the crime of being a ShadowClan cat's child. So this whole scene is just there to show that Jayfeather will use precious informations against others if he gets annoyed at them ??? I don't know if this is bad writing or character assassination at this point man😔my po3 jayfeather would never.

None the less, Jayfeather KNEW how dangerous such a revelation could have been. Every single medicine cat, including her own apprentice Willowshine, kept the secret, because they all KNEW it would endanger Mothwing if the Clans discovered the state of her faith. This was literally a plot point in TNP with Leafpool like COME ON WRITING TEAM™ YOU HAVE TO LOCK IN !!!!!

I know this scene is canon (sadly), but this depiction of Jayfeather is just so alien to me. Jayfeather knows what it's like to be different and to be special, why would he insult Shadowsight over and over again when the kid is obviously struggling ? Also Jayfeather has been accused of murder and was on thin ice at some point, he knows what it's like to be accused in front of a whole Gathering, why would he do that to Mothwing out of all cats ???

Do you have any opinions on this ? Do you think this is just normal Jayfeather behavior, or do you think it is the Writing Team struggling to grasp Jay's personality ? I would like to know what you feel about that because from all the fandom discourse I did read, no one ever talked about how flabbergasting Jayfeather's behavior would be

In conclusion the real impostor is jayfeather

[incorrectmahabharatquotes]

This is not as coherent as my usual posts and I'm sorry about that in advance. This is tangentially related to our last post about women in Mahabharat. I saw this post by @nushkiespeaks. I have a lot of thoughts about it but what matters the most in the context of our previous post is that I do not like the use of the phrase "her dharma saves her" in this scenario. I will explain.

TW: violence against women, sexual assault. Please proceed with caution.

(I want to clarify that this is not meant as a call out post or anything. These are just my thoughts about what some feminist analysis of the epic lack sometimes. You can feel free to agree or disagree with me but please be kind and respectful about it and not call people names or harass anyone.)

I love Draupadi as a character so I say the following with all the love in my heart for her:

People usually either praise Draupadi for being a perfect victim. Or denigrate her for not being one. To them, she's either the pure hearted goddess who believed in her personal god and fulfilled her dharma of being a perfect wife. Or she's the cunning woman who didn't perform her dharma properly and deserved what she got.

What gets left behind is that the fact no one should have to go through any of that regardless of whether you believe they performed their dharma correctly. What also gets left behind are: all the other women mentioned in the scene, if only in passing. The slaves.

If you're strictly talking about the BORI CE version of the story(as the post clearly is), while reading it, it's almost impossible to miss the repeated mentions of the normalised and legally sanctioned sexual abuse/harrassment and rape of slaves. (Side note: Yes, slavery was a thing back then. It's horrible. People just don't like to acknowledge the instances in the Mahabharat where slavery is mentioned because it's just not a good look for sacred books to be chill with and actively encouraging buying and selling of actual people like objects. Trust me, if you have a favourite character in the epic, they were probably involved in the practice of slavery somehow, even Krishna, I'm very sorry to tell you this.)

To me, it's odious to mention dharma whenever we talk about Draupadi's vastraharan because it leads the obvious conclusion that those other women mentioned in text suffer at the hands of their "masters", in part because maybe they weren't performing their dharma correctly.

Maybe that's not what people mean when they praise Draupadi for her dharmic perfection. But every time those people, I cannot help but think of those women. The ones that are forgotten.

The ones who were not allowed to save themselves.

I guess, I'm ultimately just trying to say that this post is just my humble request to people to not talk about topics such as sexual assault in terms of the moral character of the victim. The people may mean well, but it does unfortunately perpetuate the idea of a perfect victim.

-Mod S

[youronlydarlin]

Okay…maybe could you do something like Simon fucking you to the summoning by sleep token…literal baby making song??? 🥹

AHHHHHHH NONIE YOU GET ME YOU GET MEEE

You are SO right about it being baby making music, because Simon fucks your guts so deep like he's trying to put something in there.

It's pitch black in the room. Utter darkness enveloping you both. You can't see anything, as if you're trapped in a neverending night. Relying solely on the goosebumps forming on your skin to know where he's touching.

Your lack of vision heightening your reflexes. And you twitch and tremble like a small defenseless bunny caught in the jaws of a metal trap.

His fingers easily cage around your neck, avoiding your windpipe but cutting off enough oxygen to make blood rush into your head and leave you panting like a dumb mutt. Successfully making you addicted to the feeling.

He easily pins your torso to the bed just like that. While your lower half doesn't even touch the sheets. No, it's wrapped around his toned waist, the position makes it so that he's towering over you. On his knees, and downwards angle he's fucking you in makes it feel like he's hitting deeper and deeper with each push inside.

Simon is a dirty, dirty, man. Having you practically screaming on his cock isn't enough. He wants you drunk on it. Like you won't survive without it.

Two speakers loudly play the song, and he's leaning down to whisper the lyrics into your ear.

"You've got my body, flesh and bone, yeah The sky above, the Earth below.."

And all of a sudden you're throwing your head back. Curling your toes and cumming your brains out. He laughs at you, to think that was all it took to ruin you. But, he has to admit, it ruined him too.

Cause fuck. Now you're throbbing so much and he's pulsing your walls actively milking him fir all he's worth.

The song continues on, and he fucks you through the chorus, then the instrumental. Until he's reaching his favorite part. But despite feeling like being in the brink of unconsciousness you could proudly say that it's your favorite too.

Heavy sounding beats blasts through the speaker as if they're begging to be let out. Simon mouths the lyrics and sings along, you silently mull over how the darkness prevents you from seeing it. But his hypnotic voice is quick to keep all the thoughts away that aren't about him.

"Oh, and my love

Did I mistake you for a sign from God?

Or are you really here to cut me off?

Or maybe just to turn me on

'Cause these days

I would be lying if I told you that

didn't wish that I could be your man

Or maybe make a good girl bad..."

Simon accentuates every word with heavy thrusts while he times the movement of his hips to the rhythm. Your eyes roll back. Subconsciously preparing yourself for the second of many more rounds to come.

a/n: I BEG OF YOU. LISTEN TO THE SONG. IT'S SO MUCH BETTER WHEN YOU KNOW HOW IT GOES. I actually had to listen to it for this, mainly because I only know it through, my love astarion. Thank you for this btw, love. Really inspired me. M' also sorry that I only got to post once. I took the time out of a busy day to hang out with my sister. I hope you liked this, hun!

Yours, truly,

–dolly

[putschki1969]

『Hikaru LIVE TOUR -ROUND-』 KYOTO

Tweet by Hikaru | Instagram story by Hikaru | Instagram post by Hikaru

▼2024 11/30 (Sat) Soul Power, Toyama 17:30 / 18:00 12/07 (Sat) Music Bar Perch, Aichi 17:30 / 18:00 12/14 (Sat) LIVE HOUSE enn 2nd, Miyagi 17:30 / 18:00 12/21 (Sat) MUSE, Kyoto 17:00 / 17:30

▼2025 02/11 (Tue) Club eX, Tokyo 17:00 / 18:00

Setlist Notes: The new song is called “With”. I originally thought it was “Wish”. My bad! Not sure about the order of some of those songs (maybe there’s something missing too??). I had to wait till I was on the train to write everything down but at that point, all the songs had gotten mixed up in my mind. It was made worse by the fact that I didn’t immediately recognise some of them and Hikaru didn’t always introduce them either☠️

That ticket holder clearfile looks so good!! Glad we got this as tokuten. A bit bummed though that there was no special design for the drink ticket😿For those who bought more than one copy of the “Mask” EP, there was a special present too, an alternative cover image. Super pretty 🤩 I mostly spent the rest of my day in Kyoto eating touristy stuff 😅And I headed to the Pokemon Center to get a few exclusive items for my nieces/nephews.

On a side note, those pink gummies were posted by Keiko earlier this week on her Yodel app. Of course I had to get them too (tho the packaging is a bit different, there’s a variety of designs. I got the same design as her today🤗)

1.With 2.Treasure??? 3.Koganeiro no Yakusoku 4.Flow 5.Survivor 6.Under the rain (acoustic ver.) 7.Lack 8.YES/NO 9.Disclose 10.Escape 11.End of line 12.Kiseki En 1.Breathe En 2.紡-TSUMUGU-

Some highlights: I was SUPER close to the stage, it was AMAZING!!🤩 You can even see me quite clearly on the photo that Hikaru posted 🤗So glad she allowed us to take off our masks for the photo. Wouldn’t have wanted to miss that opportunity.

As always, Hikaru had an incredible stage presence, she was confident and cool, oozing charisma during each and every performance. I feel like we made eye contact several times but maybe that’s just wishful thinking 🙃Her singing was powerful and even though I didn’t always recognise the song (shame on me), I had a good time. “Under the rain” was hands down my favourite 💕So beautiful. I almost cried. She sounded better than she ever did before. The acoustic arrangement is very flattering. The upbeat songs were a ton of fun (despite sitting right in front of the speakers☠️). Hikaru literally rocked the stage🔥I almost feel bad for not being more active but I guess I’m just not the type to move a lot. (Clapping is the most I’ll usually do😅)

Sorry for adding lots of stuff on the go. I forgot to mention that Hikaru teased some upcoming solo activities for 2025. She says there are already more or less concrete plans but she will wait to make an announcement until everything is finalised. Of course she also briefly discussed the Kalafina Anniversary concert and asked who of us was planning to go. Obviously, almost everyone said that they would come, Hikaru seemed very happy about that and ensured us that they would put all of their love and strength into delivering the best possible music to us so we should all look forward to it.

EP Mask Tracklist Notes: For some reason I thought there would be more new songs🫣But it’s just “With”. The other tracks have been released digitally already.

1.with 2.End of line 3.Lack 4.Koganeiro no Yakusoku 5.Breathe 6.Kiseki

13th Single 「End of line」 MV (Short ver.) ④

And here’s another music video clip of the MV for Hikaru’s latest single release. You can watch it on Instagram! Also be sure to check out her YouTube Short. The song is featured on her EP “Mask” which is set to be on sale at her solo tour venues.

[collegetennisoriginstory]

So, I was romancing Sam on every playthrough but decided to branch out finally, and now I have a tier list; ‼️Potential spoilers‼️

Tobin: By far my favorite RO. I typically don't like the archetype of "brooding ro and their charming ro counterpart" It just doesn't interest me as someone who has seen a lot of het romances employ this trope. But giving Tobin the chance they deserve and finding that I like how they respond to my MC's own flirtatious nature and then discovering how they feel about my MC being the same gender, just adds an extra layer of interest for me that I appreciated. They're kind, considerate, and very thoughtful of their friends. Very quickly blew the rest of the competition out of the water for me. I think their mindset when it comes to tennis explains why they're not the no.1 Seed despite being the captain of the team, and it honestly surprised me. I think the full weight of their route is explored best when MC is similarly looking to go pro as it parallels Rayyan nicely. Their kidness is the space they give you is born from experience and the fear of doing to MC what was done to them and I just eat that stuff up. Also it is very rare to have a black RO who is treated with any level of depth, and I just 🥹love that we Tobin.

Rayyan: In a surprise twist, Rayyan gets the second spot for similar reasons as Tobin. I think the enemies to friends to lovers(partners) arc that is presented in their story is intriguing. Like Sam, they have a level of history with the MC that makes them familiar when heading into the new space, so I made it a habit to stay near them when at all possible. Rayyan isn't particularly cold, or as cold as ppl might assume, I think they have a very good balance of being a sort of quiet and reserved person that still manages to be personable. I feel that playing like I do, my MC might've come off as flippant to them, which only adds to the anxiety that they feel going into this season. Their struggle of being visually Arab in a world and country that sees non whiteness as punishable is very felt. It's really special to me that the two most prominent ROs are dark skinned people of color. Sorry for being biased, but even when I wasn’t actively romancing them, they got major points for that.

Sam: My baby gets the third spot and I think that's fair. What i adored about Sam is the pining of a friends to lovers story. I never make the first move with Sam, despite playing very flirty, bc I see my MC with not having to put up a front with Sam. So the things they do or say that signify to others that my MC is looking for something physical aren't used with Sam; they believe MCs closeness with them is strictly platonic while my MC believes that Sam has been lightly rejecting this whole time. Just something about those missed connections get to me. (Also, the varcity jackets!? So cute) Now, Sam loses points due to being away at another university for a majority of the story thys far. Which made me wonder if placing them in a new environment with MC might change things for them. Everything IS different now; so, who is to say that their relationship hasn't run its course? Juicy, but due to lack of presence, I'll keep them at 3rd.

G: They're French. Automatically, a point is taken off. They're also very sexy as a woman (my MC is a they/them lesbian) so I felt that, to remain true to character, I would have to ignore that and see what G has going on. Ngl, they do sort of play out like a romance novel character in the most obvious way so far 😭 no hate though. I just couldn't not think about "Oh, you sexy French student." Whenever they said anything. Smoldering looks from across the room at a crowded college party, like okay 400 days of summer <3. I think they're rather perfect for players who are looking for some steam outside of the locker room. They have the same issue as Sam, as in, they're not present in the locker room. They're not our teammate, so we don't really get the same level of relationship building with them as u would a Rayyan or Tobin. And I don't think that's a bad thing necessarily. I feel that speaks to the amount of work put in to make the team feel real and not just thrown together characters. Once I started to romance my teammates, I found it hard to flirt with anyone else, as I felt that they just didn't understand my MC on the same level.

Felix: ngl, they'd have to get security to get me off them, I have this burning rage in my heart whenever they show up. "🤼‍♂️ This is for Tobin, Cakepop‼️" I am sure there is indeed depth to them as a character, I am sure it hurts to hear someone say "I can not love you the way you want me to." And we are only human, we don't always behave the way we want to. But Felix makes my nipple itch they just remind me of men who just hold this anger for their exes unreasonably. I think there is an interesting parallel to be found in a Tobin route MC and Felix. I just don't have the language to put it together bc I will never romance them and I don't think I ever will, personally just can't bring myself to do so. They are what I felt Rayyan would be, and I'm fine with meeting them with hostility.

All in all, I'm glad I branched out to see what the other ROs were like it's definitely a testament to ur hard work and is greatly appreciated. I will continue to be messy and kiss Tobin, Rayyan, and Sam because I am toxic aim to be a learning experience, not a lover 🫶🏽

Oh my god~ It was so interesting to see your gradual evolution / journey through pursuing the different ROs.

I think it's really interesting in particular to see how Tobin's character is sort of 'hidden' beneath multiple layers, and you have to really work at unpeeling those layers, and it's really rewarding as a writer to see that route 'give' readers so much unexpected joy.

And, of course — I have a soft spot for stoic / unexpressive, overly-competitive, serious characters who are secretly just a giant sap. For Rayyan in particular, I think their drive to excel at tennis is counter-balanced against their loyalty, their ride-or-die-ness with the people they love. I love the extra bit of psychoanalysis that you did regarding Rayyan's anxiety about MC not taking tennis seriously, which is fine on its own, but really becomes an issue if they're partnered.

Sam having less 'screen-time' than the others is totally fair, and I think (or hope) will be made up for by the sheer amount of history they share.

As for the whole "French sexy" stereotype, I actually do think this is a crucial part of G's arc. The idea that perhaps they both see each other as 'archetypes' at the start (the jock-fling during one's exchange year, the sexy french exchange student), and then as they start understanding each other as real people, and then as they start (possibly) falling in love with each other (with all the eccentricities, all the imperfections), the relationship takes on more depth and dimension.

Finally, thank you so much for taking the time to explore all these different routes, and I'm so glad that doing so was rewarding for you :) I absolutely loved reading this message, so thank you also for sharing! It's always so fun listening to how different MCs, or different MC choices, and just different readers in general — have different takes on the ROs!