#but the people in the first few rows are so close to me that I feel like they definitely still saw it

[b0r3dtod3ath]

Hi,

Would you be open to write about Oscar and his childhood friend, now scientists. just them supporting each other during their own careers. Being so damm proud and all the time yapping about the otheres archivements Showing up at diffrent events for each other, like her coming to a race, and him showing up at a conference, where she's presenting her research.

Thanks a lot!

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♡ an: i messed up and replied to a different request with this T_T. so this is basically a repost. nonetheless, thank you for requesting and sorry for the mess-up.

Oscar couldn’t remember a time when you weren't around. From the early days at your father’s karting track, where you would sit on the bleachers with a juice box and your homework, to the present - F1 tracks, where your face was one of the first he searched for in the crowd.

Your friendship started when your fathers introduced you to each other. You were both six and despite most kids this age being disgusted by the opposite gender you two quickly became close. When you were kids people often mistook you as siblings - always next to each other, teasing and giggling but also supporting each other. 

When Oscar went to boarding school a lot changed. You went from seeing each other everyday to seeing each other twice a year. Nonetheless, not seeing each other very often and the mix of puberty hormones didn’t take a toll on your relationship. While Oscar was in Europe, racing in junior motorsport series, you were in Australia pursuing your academic dream. 

You two reunited not long after turning twenty. Oscar just got his seat in Formula one and you were on your way to receive your diploma. Even with your busy schedules you tried to spend as much time together as possible. You were a regular in the paddock and everyone in Mclaren’s garage knew you. 

The crowd was loud as Oscar climbed out of his car and hugged his team. His eyes searched the crowd until they landed on you - his biggest supporter. He jogged over and pulled you into a tight hug. You kissed his cheek and hugged him close “Oscar, you did it! You were amazing. I’m so proud of you” you shouted over the noise. His first Formula one win. “Did you see what I did on the first corner?” he said, his eyes full of adrenaline. “Did I see? Dude, I was clutching the seat so hard I might’ve bruised my hand. I thought Carlos would push you off the track!”. You laughed, and he noticed the way your eyes shone with genuine pride. For a moment, he forgot about the cameras, the media - everything except that you were there, seeing him at his best. “Now go get weighted so we can celebrate!”. 

Later that evening a group sat at a table at the back of a busy restaurant. Oscar was surrounded by many people, his teammate, boss, engineers and friends. But most importantly you were sitting next to him. 

You raised your glass, he rolled his eyes knowing exactly what you were going to do. “To the guy who went from karting on Tuesdays to taking wins on Sundays”. He blushed slightly from embarrassment, maybe from the alcohol . “To the girl who always believed I’d get there - even when I didn’t” he said quietly before bumping your glass with his. 

A few months later, it was Oscar’s turn to sit in the front row, this time at a prestigious science conference. He was out of place among the suits and academics, but he didn’t care. He’d been waiting to see you shine, finally seeing all those years of hard work in action.

The room was filled with applause as you entered the stage after being introduced by the host. “Hello, thank you everyone” you said in a confident yet still a bit shaky voice. You glanced at Oscar as he gave you a big thumbs up and a huger smile. “So before I start, I can’t express how honored I am to be standing here. This has been my dream for the past eight years. I want to thank everyone here, for supporting, inspiring and helping me through this”. 

Throughout the presentation your eyes kept finding their way back to Oscar. Whenever you would get a bit too overwhelmed, the sight of him calmed your nerves. After the presentation Oscar gave you space as a flood of people gathered around you, eager to discuss your theories. You answered questions from a mix of young researchers, curious students, and seasoned scientists who all seemed genuinely intrigued by your work. 

You were talking with an elderly lady, a woman that has been your huge inspiration. “Thank you. It’s… honestly, I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for people like you. Your work really inspired me.” You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you spoke, starstruck and a little shaky. She asked you a few questions and invited you to another convention. 

The woman tilted her head, glancing subtly in Oscar’s direction, who was leaning against the wall. “And, if I may say, it seems that someone else is equally inspired by you”. You blinked, following her gaze to where Oscar stood. He hadn’t noticed you looking, caught up in watching you in your element, a proud smile playing on his lips. You could see how much this meant to him - that he genuinely admired you, not just as his friend.

“Oh him, that’s just my best friend” you replied giggling a little. “Hold on to him,” the lady said gently, giving your arm a reassuring squeeze. “It’s rare to find someone who believes in us as much as we believe in them” she paused for a moment glancing back at him “and stop by for a visit in my home in Uk, both of you”. 

Before you could respond the lady disappeared in the crowd. “Hey,” Oscar said, his voice soft as he reached your side. “How are you holding up?”.

“I’m good,” you replied, voice brightening as soon as he was close. “Still a bit… overwhelmed, but good. Did you, um, survive the science talk?”. He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think I caught about 30% of it, which for me is a win. But I caught all the important stuff - like you absolutely crushing it up there”. Your heart gave a little flutter, his voice hitting you harder than you’d expected. “Thanks, Oscar. It… it really helped having you here”. He looked down at you, his expression softening. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Seeing you up there… I’m just so proud of you, you know?”.

You let out a deep breath, feeling some of the tension melt away as you watched the lady. “I can’t believe she was here,” you whispered, still awestruck, “She’s, like, my hero”. Oscar chuckled, nudging your shoulder. “I get it, really. I feel the same way every time you’re at a race. Just… ridiculously lucky to have you on my side”. 

You smiled up at him, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “I’m the lucky one, Oscar. Thank you for being here. For everything, really.”

He didn’t answer right away, just watched you, his gaze steady and warm. “I’ll always be here”. 

… a few months later … 

“It’s a nice place,” Oscar said, parking his car. As you two walked up to the ivy-covered cottage hand-in-hand, he gave your fingers a squeeze, a familiar sparkle in his eye. “Think she’s going to guess right away?” he whispered, as if afraid to break the quiet charm of the place. You nudged him, smiling. “Of course, she noticed something between us before we even did”. He chuckled softly. “Guess that’s fair”. 

Before you could knock, the door swung open, revealing an old lady with a warm, welcoming smile. “There you are! I was beginning to think you’d gotten lost”. You and Oscar exchanged a sheepish look before following her inside.

Her home was cozy and filled with books, artifacts, and stacks of research papers - a testament to her lifelong dedication to science. She led you to a sitting room where a tea set and a tray of scones were waiting.

“So,” she began, settling herself comfortably into an armchair and pouring each of you a cup, “Tell me, how have the two of you been?”. “We’ve been great,” you began, accepting the delicate teacup she handed you. “It’s been busy, as usual, but… a good kind of busy”. The lady nodded,  “I imagine you’ve been wrapped up in your research, my dear. And you, young man - what line of work are you in?”. 

Oscar glanced at you, suppressing a grin. “I’m, uh… I’m a racing driver”. Her brows lifted in pleasant surprise. “Racing? Goodness, that’s a bit different from the world of science, isn’t it?”. He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “Just a bit. I race in Formula One, actually”. 

Her eyes widened, a mixture of fascination and amusement flashing across her face. “Formula One! How thrilling. I’ve read about it - those cars going at breathtaking speeds. I can’t say I know much about it, but I can imagine that must be… well, exhausting.”. Oscar nodded, his voice softening as he replied, “It is, it’s intense, but it’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. It’s taken me all over the world and I’m lucky enough to have had this one,” he said, glancing at you, “supporting me every step of the way”.

“And actually… there’s something else we wanted to tell you”.  Her  smile widened knowingly, and she leaned in, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Oh? Do tell,” her voice with a hint of irony. 

Oscar’s cheeks colored just slightly, but he held your hand firmly. “Well… we’re together. As in, officially”. She clasped her hands together, her expression delighted. “Oh, how wonderful! I could tell there was something between you two from the moment I saw you at the conference. And now you’ve finally seen it yourselves, too”. 

You both laughed. It was true, if it hadn’t been for her perceptive nudge, perhaps you would have taken even longer to realize what everyone else seemed to see so clearly. “Thank you,” you said, smiling. “You were right, back at the conference. He’s been by my side for as long as I can remember”. 

“Likewise,” Oscar added, his voice gentle. “She’s my biggest supporter. My constant”.

“Hold onto that. Life has a way of throwing surprises our way, but the strength you two share will see you through anything.”

The three of you sat for hours, talking about life, love, and work. The evening felt timeless as laughter and stories filled the air, connecting the three of you in a way that felt like family. When it was finally time to leave, she walked you both to the door, wrapping you in a heartfelt embrace.

“Promise me you’ll visit again soon,” she said, her voice filled with affection. “And don’t forget, no matter where life takes you, you’ll always have a place here”. 

“We promise,” Oscar said, squeezing her hand. “Thank you”.

As you and Oscar walked back under the starry sky, he slipped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “So… we’re officially a ‘we’ now, huh?” you asked.

He laughed as you leaned your head against his shoulder. “Looks like it. Think you can handle it?”.

You grinned feeling his lips on your forehead. “I think I can. As long as I’ve got you beside me”.

November 4, 2024

[ofbatsandballads]

kindness you can’t afford

jason todd x fem!reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: injured character, multiple descriptions of blood + wounds

a/n: so this is the very first jason fic I’ve written since I was twelve, so forgive me while I find my jay’s voice now that I’m not a preteen. anyways I humbly offer thee my wares.

divider credit: cafekitsune

Gotham’s a shithole. You hadn’t known that when you first moved here. To be honest, you’d kind of thrown a dart at a map and gone where it landed. Alright, maybe it wasn’t literally a dart throw, more so finding the cheapest metropolitan city because New York was tempting but it would bankrupt you. Mostly you just wanted a place to not exist. And so Gotham’s relatively low rent rates and towering skylines were the pick with little to no research.

Gotham’s a shithole. You know that beyond a shadow of a doubt now. It’s surprising, honestly, how little of Gotham’s chaos makes it outside the city limits. One would think a psychotic killer clown that’s prone to gassing a whole city district or a half-plant poison lady or a guy going around dressed like a bat would make national news. And yet, no. You’d known superheroes existed, of course. Superman was the shining jewel in the crown of the country that is Metropolis. Everyone knows about the extraordinary Wonder Woman. It’s not like hyper skilled people working for the greater good aren’t a thing. But Gotham plays her cards close to her chest.

You've lived here almost two years now and you’ve managed to make it through relatively unscathed. An impressive feat especially since you live in the Bowery. The Bowery itself isn’t so bad, but its neighboring district Park Row, more often known as Crime Alley, is about the worst Gotham has to offer. You’ve heard your fair share of gunshots and sirens, and you’ll never forget the time that Scarecrow released fear toxin in the district and you had to shove every towel and blanket you owned against the cracks by the doors and windows to keep it out. However, you’ve avoided being mugged or assaulted or anything like that so far. And you’ve never encountered the vigilantes that run the night here.

But there’s always time for new and exciting experiences.

The loud thunk that sounds outside your living room window makes you jump and starts your heart pounding. You know you should just ignore it. Crawl off the couch and to the bedroom, lock the door. The lights in the apartment are already off, only the television light illuminating the room, so it would be easy to creep unseen. But you can’t. Something pulls you to the window. Maybe it’s the cat killing curiosity, or maybe it’s your own little voice of self destruction, or maybe it’s something else entirely. All you know is that you have to go look.

So you do. And there, out cold on the fire escape, is a man. A very large man. A very large man in a red helmet. A very large man in a red helmet with dual pistols holstered to his thighs. Red Hood. Red Hood is passed out face up on your fire escape. Huh.

You’d heard of him. It was hard not to. The Bat had the most notoriety by far, but it was Red Hood that truly scared the criminals of Gotham. Batman might break your bones, cripple you even, but you’d leave with your life. No such guarantee existed if you crossed Red Hood. Hurt a few innocent people and you might end up with a bullet or three in your skull. Then there was that thing about heads in a duffel bag and Red Hood running crime for a solid year in Gotham, but he’s better now, apparently. None of this is deterring you from unlocking the window, pushing it up, and stepping out into the cold winter air. Not when you see the blood seeping through his body armor start to drip off the fire escape grate.

He needs help and he can’t stay unconscious in the middle of the city. If whoever injured him didn’t find him, the cops would. He’s just as wanted as the actual rogues of Gotham. You think it’s bullshit, which is why you’re trying to find a way to get him inside the safety of your apartment. He’s huge up close. This is going to be very, very difficult. Your mind flashes suddenly to one of your favorite childhood movies and how the princess pulled the dashing rogue around with her hair. You glance down at the street before heading to your bedroom.

You come back out with sheets bundled up in your arms. You’re not even sure if this harebrained idea will work, but you weave the sheets through the gaps in the grates and around Red Hood’s waist nonetheless. You secure a knot and go back into your apartment with the length of the sheets. Your legs are stronger than your arms, so you brace them against the wall and pull. You can feel his body slowly dragging towards you and you pause to check your progress. He’s slumped against the window now. Good. You loop your arms under his, place your feet back against the wall, and pull hard. Your hard work is rewarded with his body breaching the threshold of your window and landing directly on top of you. The air is knocked clean out of your lungs. He is heavy.

It’s a struggle but you manage to roll out from under him and immediately see the massive red stain contrasting against the white of your fluffy pajama pants. A small puddle of blood is emerging on your floor under his left thigh, and droplets of blood have splattered next to his torso. He’s not in great shape. It suddenly hits you what you’ve done. You dragged an injured vigilante, known for shooting first and asking questions later, into your apartment with no plan on what to do after the fact.

What the fuck did I do?

That’s all you can think as you look down at him. Then something snaps into place inside your rattled mind and you run to your bathroom to grab your first aid kit. You’d bought it and learned the basics after Wayne Enterprises ran televised infomercials about the importance of first aid a couple months back. You’re carefully balancing all the supplies in your arms as you head back out to the living room.

The empty living room. No vigilante in sight. Then your world spins. Everything clatters to the floor as you’re yanked backwards by your waist, pinned to something solid and unable to move.

“Who are you?” A growl sounds behind you, modulated to sound semi-mechanical.

Ah. There he is. You think you should be panicking, absolutely losing your shit even. But your brain is moving in slow motion.

“Someone trying to help you,” you breathe out.

“Doesn’t answer the question.”

The grip around your waist tightens. You want to laugh. As if you could’ve made a run for it in the first place. You tell him your name, and explain that you live alone. There’s no one else here but the two of you and you really do want to help.

“You were passed out on my fire escape. I couldn’t just leave you out there,” you explain cautiously.

The two of you stay like that for a minute longer. Then, a mechanical sigh sounds from behind you and the vice grip on your waist goes slack. You turn to him and see that he’s already halfway to your window.

“Hey! Wait! I can help!” you shout, scrambling after him.

“Don’t need it,” he snaps.

“You were bleeding out on my floor!” you exclaim.

You don’t know why you feel so strongly about this. Maybe because he seemed so…mortal. It’s easy to forget that these guys running around at night are people. They’re strong, tough, and capable, but they’re still human. The fact that he stumbles and has to catch himself on the window frame proves your point.

“Please. I promise I won’t take long. Please just let me help,” you beg.

He turns around and even through that unreadable helmet you can tell he’s sizing you up. You’re sure you must be a sight in your fuzzy white cat pajama pants, old Snoopy t-shirt, and fluffy white socks. Honestly, it’s a bit of a ridiculous tableau. Massive armed man in tactical gear opposite a woman in fluffy pajamas, both bloodstained. But either you seem harmless enough or he’s in exceptionally bad shape, because he just slumps against your wall and gives a barely noticeable nod of his head.

You go into autopilot the second you get his consent. A dining room chair is dragged to the center of your living room and Red Hood drops himself into it, the old wood creaking under the force. You go to assess the damage on his torso first. Light slashes litter his waist, none of them are deep enough for stitches. You grab the rubbing alcohol and cotton balls from the floor where you kneel before warning him that it might sting.

“I got slashed. Think that might’ve hurt a bit more,” he deadpans.

“Yeah, that’s fair.”

The torso slashes are light work. It takes all of five minutes to disinfect them and seal them shut with bandages. It’s his thigh that you’re a little more concerned about. There’s enough blood that it’s soaked his tactical pants around where you’re guessing the wound is. You can vaguely make out what appears to be cut fabric, so you’re assuming he was stabbed.

“How deep did the knife go?” you ask.

“Hm. ‘Bout two inches?” he offers.

“Why’d you take it out?” you ask incredulously. Anyone with half a brain knew not to take a knife out of a stab wound.

“No idea. Should’ve just gone runnin’ around the city with a knife wedged in my leg.”

The mask’s modulator does nothing to hide the teasing edge to his voice. Of everything you’d heard about Red Hood, you’d never heard he was such a smartass.

“You know how to do stitches?” he asks.

Great. So he saw the deer-in-headlights look you had while thinking about how to fix his stab wound.

“If you count mending clothing then, uh, sure,” you reply.

The white slits of the helmet stare hard at you before a warped chuckle comes from under it.

“Well, close enough.”

Oh, so he liked to gamble with his health then. Okay. Sure. Great. You could totally do this. Untrained, unlicensed, unsupervised you. You have to stop your hands from shaking as you thread the curved needle. You have to stop yourself from vomiting with anxiety as you push the needle through his skin. He hisses and you immediately feel bad. He’d handled the alcohol without flinching, but the stitches were a different story. You whisper sorry’s with every puncture of his skin you make. Soon enough, his leg is closed up and the whole thing is said and done.

“Okay, should be good to go,” you start, “Well, not good per se, but functional to go.”

A hum and a quick nod of his head are the only response you get before he’s back on his feet. He’s about to climb out your window for the second time tonight when you call out to him again. He turns around and you’d swear he almost seems exasperated.

“Take these with you. You’ll probably need them,” you say as you toss him a water bottle and a small carton of orange juice.

He snatches them easily from the air. But then he just stands there and stares at the drinks in his hands. You think you may have somehow offended him and go to apologize when he speaks.

“Thanks,” he says, mechanical voice catching on the word.

And then he’s gone. Out your window and off into the night. Once you shut and lock the window you feel exhaustion hit you like a freight train. All the adrenaline drains from you and it takes whatever energy you have left to collapse on to your bed and drift off to sleep.

You’ll never know it, but the Red Hood spends the last fifteen minutes of his patrol sipping his orange juice and dutifully watching your apartment window.

You’ll never know it, but Jason Todd lingers across the street to make sure you get home from the grocery store safely, and he scoffs as he sees you feed and pet a stray dog. It’s silly, he thinks.

Don’t you know that now you’ve shown it some kindness, it’ll just keep coming back?

[malk1ns]

november 19 vs lightning, 3-2 OT loss

sidney's milestone yips return 🙄

this series is now on ao3! i'll be adding games in chunks from now on :)

Sanja never believes Zhenya when Zhenya says he doesn’t really get angry with Sid.

Oh, they bicker, of course—you can’t spend practically 24 hours a day with someone for nine months out of the year without small irritations flaring up. One of them will be overtired and crabby, or they’ll disagree about where to go for dinner near the end of a long roadie…stuff like that.

But major arguments, flaring tempers and angry, icy silences? They don’t do that. It’s something Zhenya’s always been smug about.

There is, of course, an exception.

Having a front-row seat to Sid’s career has been a privilege and an honor. Zhenya doesn’t regret a single decision that’s kept him at Sid’s side since 2006; even taking their relationship out of it, because it’s not like they’d break up just because they temporarily lived apart, getting to watch someone live up to the type of potential Sid has and work his way into the record books is not something Zhenya would give up willingly.

The time those records take, though.

Sid overthinks every aspect of his play when he’s getting close to some sort of milestone. He handles the puck like he’s never seen one before, passing when he should shoot and hesitating when he should pass until the lane disappears. He retreats into his routine with a rigidity that he’s mostly shed as he’s gotten older, and he gets snappy with anyone who dares to so much as hint around the concept of a milestone.

It was funny at first. And then Sid entered top-ten categories, leapfrogging over the types of players that most guys won’t come near to matching ever, and the milestones started coming faster and faster, and Sid took longer and longer to actually achieve them.

The goalless drought before 500 had been comical, and ultimately happened in the type of storybook ‘how is this real’ fashion that only Sidney Crosby is capable of and made the wait worth it. Six hundred, though?

“Next time,” Zhenya fumes, slamming the pantry shut perhaps a bit harder than he means to, “you shoot on power play, like, not pass right back to me, I’m get yelled at during break!” He brandishes the bag of trail mix at Sid before ripping it open and cramming a handful into his mouth, chewing with his mouth open just because he knows it pisses Sid off.

“Oh, fuck you,” Sid scoffs, glaring at him so hard that if Zhenya were even slightly less ticked would have him cowering and apologizing. “You passed up plenty of your own fucking chances, eh, how about you get a goal one of these games!”

Zhenya throws his hands up, scattering trail mix across the kitchen island. “I’m not hold whole team up while I pick around on ice, forget how to play hockey, like, need extra-special time for score big goal!” he practically shouts. “Everyone tries to help, like, gets you puck, sets you up, and you’re not shoot. Have to score and move on so we’re play games for real, Sidney, not think about stupid records!”

“You think I want this?” Sid hisses, sweeping some of the spilled M&Ms into his hand and throwing them into the sink so hard a few of them bounce right back out. “All I want—all I’ve ever asked for, every single time this happens, is for people to play.like.normal! I can’t focus when everyone’s watching me, I can’t see the net, I can’t get my grip right…” He tugs at his hair, a nervous habit that Zhenya used to warn would make him go bald until Zhenya’s own hairline started to recede and Sid’s stayed stubbornly put.

Zhenya opens his mouth to snap back, but Sid’s face is twisted in genuine upset, so he takes a deep breath and forces himself to calm down.

Sid needs to get out of his head. Sid needs a distraction. Zhenya’s always been good at that.

“You’re think grip is bad?” he asks, smiling beatifically at Sid when Sid looks at him suspiciously at his abrupt change in tone. “Seems fine this morning, like, tight but not too tight, you know? You’re want to go upstairs and check, practice some more? I’m tell you if it’s good.”

Sid’s expression flickers from suspicion to confusion to disgust to…intrigued. Zhenya mentally high-fives himself. Time to seal the deal.

“And then maybe,” Zhenya purrs, circling the island and crowding close to Sid, “you’re help me get it in goal, like, I need practice too, you know?”

Sid smacks at his arm, but he’s laughing as he abandons his attempt to clean up and drags Zhenya upstairs.

They forget to set an alarm and get yelled at when they skid in late to video review the next morning. Sid’s smiling again, though, and Zhenya would bag-skate himself for a full 60 minutes to make that happen.

[tyttetardis]

Macbeth Q&A 18th Jan 2024 Part 1

Was lucky enough to get a ticket for the Member's Event at the Donmar Warehouse that took place on the 18th...with the price of the patronages I sure never thought I'd have gotten the chance, but luckily, they also let in some non-members 🥹❤️

The brilliant performance of Macbeth was followed by a very quick cleaning of the stage - thought for sure it would've taken them longer to remove the blood than like 5 minutes - followed by a lovely, little Q&A session.

The Q&A was led by Craig Gilbert (Literary manager) who talked to Annie Grace and Alasdair Macrae (Musicians and part of the acting ensemble) as well as Cush Jumbo and David Tennant.

Anyway, just gonna write down some of the stuff they talked about :) sorry if it's a bit messy! Might be spoilery if you haven't seen it yet but are going to!

To begin with Craig remarked that he didn't think he'd ever seen that many people staying behind for a Q&A before (While I was just wondering why some people even left!? Stressful!).

David introduced himself with "My real name is David "Thane of Paisely" Tennant - while Cush introduced herself with "I´m Cush Jumbo - there's only one of me".

First question was Craig asking them what it was that brought them to the Donmar to do Macbeth - to which David pretty much just replied that 1. It's the Donmar! 2. It's Macbeth! One of the greatest plays of all time in an amazingly intimate space - and that the theatre is famous for its quality of work. So he found it quite hard to think of a reason not to do it!

Cush said she'd worked there before and loves the theatre, how it's so intimate but also a great workspace. Followed by her saying she said yes because David asked her. She talked about how important it was for this play to do it together with the right actor playing opposite you.

David says Max Webster asked him about a year ago if he wanted to do the play - he gave him the dates - and since there weren't any obstacles in the way, David didn't have any excuse not to do it.

He then said that he had slightly avoided Macbeth - there sorta being the assumption that if you're Scottish and has done some Shakespeare plays before you have to do Macbeth. Which he joked was a bit odd since it's not like every Italian has to play Romeo. Then he mentioned that Macbeth is probably a bit more of a jock than he is - that it seemed more like a part for big, burly actors.

Max had laid out his initial ideas to David, a lot of which are in the final production, and David thought he seemed lovely, bright and clever and inventive plus it being the Donmar Warehouse! To which joked that he had last worked there 20 years ago - when he was 8 years old! "It's just one of those spaces" - friendly and epic at the same time where it's such a pleasure to be on the stage.

When Craig asked his next question concerning the sound of the play someone asked him to speak louder as she couldn't hear them - to which David joked that they've gotten so used to whispering. But also said sorry, and that they would!

Alasdair explained a bit about the process of the binaural sound - bit I find it a bit difficult to decipher it all correctly, sorry. He did say that a interesting part of it is that it allows them a controlled environment where they can put all the musicians (and even the bagpipes!) behind the soundproof box so "Poor David and Cush" doesn't have to shout over all the racket.

Craig asked David and Cush what their reaction was when they heard about the concept of the binaural soundscape - to which David replied that it didn't quite exist when they first came onboard - Cush joking they were tricked into it. Then she talked about her and David going on a workshop with Max to get a feeling of how it would all work - and get a sense of how it would sound to the audience, as this was one of the few times, they got to hear that side of it. Their experience of the play being completely different to the experience the audience has.

Cush said they can hear some of the sound - like she can hear some of the animal sounds and David can hear some of the stuff from the glass box - but most of their cues and information comes from timing with each other. She said they won't be able to ever hear what the audience hears - to which David joked "We're busy".

It felt like mixing medias - as it all went quite against their natural stagecraft instinct - but Cush found that in the long run it made things very interesting - like they don't have to worry about getting something whispered to each other - as the audience will hear it anyway.

David said the odd thing is that they don't really know what the experience truly is like. He mentioned that to the sides of the stage there's a speaker for them where they will get any cues that they need to hear. Like they can hear the witches - but they can't hear where they are "positioned" - so they have to learn how to place themselves to fit with what the audience hears. They don't hear everything, though. And the audio they hear is quite quiet, so it doesn't disturb what comes through the headphones.

He thinks it's been exciting - that it's a bit like a mix between film and theatre. It's happening live - but it's also like post-production is happening between them and the audience as it's going on. They just have to trust that the audience is hearing what they are supposed to for it all to make sense.

Cush said she thinks in 10 - 20 years, as these technologies has developed, doing theatre like this will feel a lot more normal - not that they will do it ALL the time, but that they will be doing it - whereas now it's still like an experiment. What Cush really like about the concept is that if was done in a much bigger theatre - then people in the cheapest seats would be able to have an experience much more similar to those in the most expensive seats - they'd be a lot more immersed into the action.

David then talks about how it feels extremely counterintuitive to not go on stage and speak loud enough that the people in the back row can also hear you. And usually, if they can't hear you, you aren't doing your job right! But then it felt very liberating. He loves it.

Cush then talked about how it felt odd waiting in the wings for a cue you can't hear - where you traditionally wait backstage and you can hear your cues, you can hear the rythm and know when it's your turn - so it was quite disconcerting to hear silence. So it's basically down to them now knowing the show and each other's timings - like if David is standing at a certain point, she knows how long she has before she needs to say/do something. So you have to watch each other more closely and really focus on what the others are doing.

David asked the musicians if they can hear everything inside the box, to which Annie replied that they get everything except some extra bits in the soundscape. But they can hear the actors on stage. Annie said it's actually a bit of a mystery to all of them what the audience actually experiences - how the big pictures actually look like - they just have to trust that it's there "Is it there?!".

Someone asked if they had had any adverse reactions from audiences to having to wear the headphones. Quite a bit of laughter all around :P then David said "There's the odd person" and something about if someone hadn't gotten the memo before turning up...but not sure how he ended the line. Then once again says that yes, there's the odd person who doesn't like it and that's fair enough.

The same audience member then said he could see the advantage of it in a big theatre where the distance is big, but not in a small place like the Donmar - to which David very quickly, rather passionately replied that it's not about projection, it's about being able to do things you wouldn't normally be able to do live - where they can speak so quietly that they can't even hear each other when standing next to each other. So even in such a small place, people wouldn't be able to hear that. It's about creating a different play - which isn't to everyone's taste and that's fair enough. But for a play that's been done a hundred and seven million times he thinks it's very valid to try and find a new way into the play - even if it's not for everyone.

Part 2

[cuteniaarts]

Wine stains on porcelain

(Alternatively: @katkastrofa and I have created 5 OCs in 3 days and I suffer from chronic “I wanna draw the little guysssssss” disease)

[snzyspencer]

A public speaker with a terrible cold who is trying to speak through the pain in their voice.

They’re subtly trying to wipe their nose with their sleeve or a tissue they keep fishing out of their pocket.

They’re doing their absolute best to hide the fact that they’re ill from the people they’re presenting to but their voice is thick and stuffed up.

They’re just trying to rush through what they have to do so they can go hide pitifully in some corner and finally just blow their nose.

Sick presenters ♥️

[screampied]

‘ #KNOCK(HER)OUT ! ’

ᡴꪫ‎ sum. you get more than what you bargained for by getting involved with two boxers—two boxers that can’t keep their hands off the pretty new journalist. what happens in the ring stays in the ring though…. right?

wc. 5.7k

warnings. fem! reader x t. fushiguro & s. ryōmen, boxer!au, thrēesome, manhandling, unprotected, semi public, size kink, ōral (f & m receiving), head lock, spīt, sqūirting, they fight over you, brēeding, fīngering, implied multiple ōrgasms, nipple play.

an. based on this ask, haven’t recovered since :,)

sukuna ryōmen and toji fushiguro. . .

the talk of the town. top most infamous boxers of your city, they were supposedly rivals but ended up becoming super close friends. 'friends' was probably a stretch. acquaintances was probably a far better word to describe the two. there was hardly anyone that didn’t tune into your detailed magazines about them—your occupation? a journalist. you’d be the first to write about their fights, their strengths, weaknesses, their total wins & losses, and even a few unnecessary things like their love life. you were new, but you were good. always in the front row, you’d watch them spar against some of the most scariest opponents imaginable. something about guys taking it out in the ring right before your eyes got your panties in a twist. how unprofessional..

you only did it for the money, the publicity— a lot of people adored your skill to make such stories so interesting. between toji and sukuna, they were almost always compared, and oh did they hate it. ex rivals continuously pinned against each other, it’d piss anyone off. although, you were in dire need for a new story topic to write and you just so happen to stumble into their private gym.

“yo,” a rough sly yet cunning voice mutters, and it’s so deep—you recognize it from anywhere, toji fushiguro in the flesh. “are ya lost? no fuckin’ autographs.”

“don’t be rude, ‘toj,” and your eyes avert towards sukuna— he’s a few inches taller and your eyes roam at them both. they had droplets of sweat racing down their washboard abs, scars coating their skin with ruffled hair as if they’d just finished a match. sukuna drags his feet towards you before his eyes light up. “ohh, i know you,” he snickers, grabbing your notepad before nudging his friend. “she’s our little journalist toji. and she’s a damn fine one too..”

“. . . uh,” was all you could make out, feeling a sudden tightness in your stomach. your eyes continue to stare, your lewd thoughts only become more and more vulgar. seconds pass before you realize sukuna took your notebook, toji pauses his sets to get a good look at you. “i thought this was the ladies' room.”

“girl bye,” toji grumbles with two hands buried into his shorts pockets— he reads right through you as if you were some sort of exposed novel. people said he was a lot sassier in person but you didn’t think it’d actually be true. green dark eyes linger onto you for a long time before he stretches, leaning down to get a good glimpse at your figure. “did you come here just to stare or what?”

you were taken aback at how blunt he was.

a coy grin appears on his lips as he watches you struggle to formulate a good enough response.

you were nosy, you were really really nosy. for once, perhaps you didn’t wanna just jot down things about these two— just maybe, just maybe . . you wanted a hands-on experience.

“i… needed new material for my article before the next match starts,” you utter, squeezing your thighs together. sukuna tilts his head, eyeing you in a way that makes you feel hot. toji’s stare was ten times more intimate, darkened irises practically staring right into your soul—you knew this wasn’t the bathroom, you were lying. “i was hoping maybe you’d give me some uh . . inspo.”

they were both towering over you with height, you felt small—like an ant that was preparing itself to be crushed by a villainous shoe.

“inspiration, she says?” sukuna hums, his voice is low—raspy, an almost purr hiding underneath it before he moves closer towards you. “just tell us what you really want, princess.”

“nah don’t get all shy now,” toji chimes in once he sees you grow more sheepish. they both close in on you—you felt like you were trapped in a fever dream, you weren’t exactly complaining either. they smelled so good, a mixture of sultry sweat and a loud scent of heavy cologne that wafts throughout the entire training room. “you got our attention so spit it out, girl.”

“i— i want you both.” you finally mutter after seven long consecutive seconds. with the way toji’s staring right through you, you felt like your stomach sank between your legs - your legs that were throbbing with nothing but mere arousal, again perhaps this was unprofessional. no, it was very unprofessional—but anyone would kill to be in your position, being sandwiched between the top two boxers of your city.

sukuna snickers. “both? what makes you think i’d wanna share with this bum?”

“shut up,” toji snarls, and the way his facial expressions tense a bit—so attractive. the headlines + press was right about toji, he was a lot more handsome in person. he was a fairly new boxer yet a pure lady's man. he’s had a plethora of fangirls while in the ring and maybe you were one of them. as he inches towards you with a hand softly gripping underneath your chin, he inhales. his entire facial structure, so chiseled—brief dark stubble coats the entirety lower half of his jaw and he rubs his left boxing glove against his left knee. “that really want you want? both of us?” and his voice softens. it’s a bit more pitchy and low, and he sneers. “on me, look at me when you reply too, girl.”

your lip gradually pulls down from his thumb playing against it. you felt so hot, the air suddenly felt thick.

a sudden lump gets caught in your throat before you mumble. “i want you both,” and your eyes meet the dark-haired boxer, simultaneously glancing at his attire— shirtless, boxing shorts on with his custom-made ‘fushiguro’ briefs wilting near the top—only showing the hem part. just a teensy detail like that was so enticing that you even spot a few parts of his exposing snatched waist. only after awhile you then abruptly snap out of your vulgar fantasm. “…please.”

“the real question is, pretty little journalist,” sukuna steps in, a hand stroking against your chin. you didn’t know where to even look. both boxers had their hands on you and the tightened squeezing between your plush thighs grew even more. “can you handle both?”

“yes.” you’d speak in a soft voice, most likely as of now you were probably speaking from between your legs—you didn’t care though, everyone’s a little delusional at some point. emphasis on a little in your case, because you had no idea what you were getting in to with these two.

toji snickers. “hm,” he mutters, eyes focusing on you for a long time before he raises his chin. “fine. let’s test your strength then,” and he briefly gazes at sukuna. “sukuna. we can take her ‘n the ring.”

and they mean it quite literally— taking you, the both of them versus you, except you weren’t relatively fighting.

not in that sense, but it was versus an opponent that was throbbing between your thighs.

the arena was empty, about a good hundred or more vacant blood-shot red seats scatter everywhere.

inside the ring, it was a mere raised platform, guided and shaped by strong stringy ropes that were yanking between poles at each side and corner. you lay on the spongy canvas of the ring’s floor before biting back a moan.

“scared yet?” sukuna hums, and he props himself right between your legs. this was risky—entirely risky, anyone could just walk in. besides, you were pretty sure they had a match in about a good forty-five minutes. with sprawled-out legs, he moved closer before dragging a thumb down your panties. his voice was a bit deeper than toji’s, they both shared the same amount of rasp.

sukuna had the charm, toji had the suaveness.

you shake your head, feeling yourself grow even hotter the more he stalls time. it feels warm, the entire air around you is humidly thick and you whine as he teasingly bites your panties. not enough to pierce his teeth into your folds, but he bites near the fabric—you watch, the string of your underwear slowly dragging with him. yet, you can’t help but glance at toji who’s just standing there—arms crossed and that same scowl that stuck against his face. “mhm,” he jibes, eyes flickering towards toji. “toji. she’s looking at you.”

“i know she fuckin’ is,” he grumbles, and your head tilts upward. you’re face first with his bulge that was right against your face. talk about space, it was right there. such a big bulge, who were you even kidding though—you found yourself gawking at his bulge at every match he had. with the skin-tight shorts he’d worn, you just knew he was nothing more than a packer. “nosy girl. y’er mouth bored or somethin’?” and he watches your hands paw at the hem of his tucked-out briefs. “need a bit of throat training, huh?”

sukuna’s playing with your panties still. by now, he’s peeling them towards the crevices of your thighs and you whine whilst you feel a thumb of his drag down your honeyed slit. sopping wet, just a three-second stare and he was suddenly esurient.

“look at me, not him,” toji lightly turns your head to face back up to him again. his bulge, his damn bulge that was right up against you. you nod, feeling your mouth dry—you wanted your throat to be filled, it wasn’t even a question. toji gruffs lowly, moving your chin side to side. “huuuh? girl, i don’t speak silence. thought i told ya how to use those words when you speak.”

“i- i wanna suck you off, ‘toj,” and you get cut off once he pulls his boxing shorts down halfway, bringing your face close to his briefs. you’re taken by surprise once he makes you rub your face against his hardened bulge—you moan, as if on instinct, your tongue lolls out just to taste him. even if it’s just the clothed fabric protecting his actual cock, it was something.

he scoffs. “y’er a nasty girl, huh,” he mumbles, peering down to see sukuna starting to lick against your cunt. your legs quaver upon impact and you slump back against the corner of the ring. “can’t wait, yeah. want me to train this empty throat? maybe it’ll make ya a better journalist, nosy ass.”

you’d almost laugh at his little side remark if it wasn’t for sukuna’s tongue lapping against your slick entrance. your lips part as you lean back, a hand going through his hair. “mphm,” he grunts, one hand squeezing the right part of your thigh. “sweetest taste i’ve had in a . . . looong while.” and he’s so sloppy, not even a few seconds pass before he’s already slurping. your panties were lazily shoved to the side and that’s when toji hauls down his briefs.

you gulp, damn.

he wasn’t just big, he was huge…

your mouth starts to salivate the more you stared at the swollen shaft. toji was a big guy . . hence meaning, toji he was a thick guy.

staggering height and a fat base to back it up, he had about two veins running down the side. his tip was a reddish pink, you could already taste him throbbing in your mouth. toji was quite well shaved a bit— though, it was a few specks of black hairs scattered everywhere. however, his happy trail was so pleasing to look. it roams all down his sculpted body, he sighs once you slowly wrap a hand around his cock.

“spit the fuck on it.”

five words and you didn’t hesitate to roll out your pink tongue once more.

you gather a good amount before watching it coat against his pink sweet tip. he groans, watching your hand stroke him a bit. he was so big, so fucking big that you could barely wrap your entire hand around his dick. toji groans, watching you make a total mess out of yourself. pretty glossy lips, pretty glossy lips that would soon be wrapped around his hefty length.

once you get it wet enough, you gently move your mouth onto him. he hisses, the warmth of your throat has his abs clenching.

“m-mhm,” you’d moan out, though your words were purely muffled. sukuna’s sucking on your clit, occasionally nipping and nibbling on it just to make you squirm even more. it was cute— the way your legs could barely hold still, so this was your weak spot. it’s what he thought to himself, lapping his tongue against your slick entrance. brief kisses coat near your folds before he maneuvers such circles against your pussy. feeling his canines nip against your folds every few seconds had you feral in the best way possible.

“y’er makin’ her squirm all over, ‘kuna,” toji lowly chuckles, such baritone in his voice that it makes you soak even more. you didn’t even know how it was possible with the way you were just profusely dripping like a faucet. not even—you put faucets to shame with how slick you were, quickly coating the lower part of sukuna’s chin with your syrupy taste. “open that mouth a ‘lil more, yeah . . . yeah,” and he tilts your head back a bit, prying your mouth open some more. he starts to slowly sink his cock in, so slow. the pace was incredibly tantalizing, your tongue runs against his slit before he pushed more inches inside. “fuckkk, girl,” he continues to grunt out, knees already starting to buckle. the way you took him in, hollow cheeks all puffed, you were already starting to drool a bit. small amounts of your saliva trickle past the corners of your lips as he goes deeper and deeper. deeper until his tip ends up mashing against your uvula and you gag.

“. . ooooh,” he hums, and just a simple noise as that was so seductive. “good…. good,” he swallows, a hand digging through your hair before maintaining a good grip against it. “now . . let’s test this pretty throat’s durability, hm.”

your little nod makes his sly smile widen, your jaw hangs and he starts to gradually piston his hips. such a mess, he was just so big that you were surprised all of it even fit.

“alllll the way down, shit,” your head starts to move, bobbling as your tongue swiftly running against his pulsating head. he gnashes his teeth together, dim eyes flickering towards your hands. you were feeling hot yourself so you made a cute attempt at reaching between your legs. doing so only greets you to a soft concise smack.

“hands to yourself, silly girl,” sukuna grumbles, and this time he grabs your wrist. he simpers, watching you try to even still rub one out but with his grip, you weren’t getting anywhere. as your mouth was occupied with such inches, you whimper once you feel sukuna spank your cunt a few times. “don’t touch my pussy.”

one turns into two, then three, then four. . .

your pretty cunt starts to become his new obsession—the way you’d squelch for him so easily, he gets hard in his boxers. so wet, he knows the layout as if he’s so used to doing this. you wouldn’t be surprised, especially with a tongue like he had. lapping left and right, he parts your legs just a bit farther before the tip of his tongue swirls all around it. he lays it flat, getting a good enough taste before giving it yet another mean spank.

you whimper, feeling your tummy cave in before toji makes you face him once more. “eyes up here, eyes on me,” and he sounds almost jealous the more you focus your attention strictly on his boxer acquaintance. you’re still stroking him, a thumb sliding down a vein that prods alongside his shaft and he groans. your throat, so warm that he starts to feel his right thigh bounce. “should be . . usin’ this throat for shit like this instead of running that mouth.” his voice pitches lower, boxer shorts pulled down and his hair was slightly ruffled. you stare up at toji and he gives you that same cunning smirk. oh, you were soaked. again, this simply felt like a fever dream. even if at the slightest chance that you were dreaming, you never wanted to wake up.

toji’s quite talkative throughout the entire thing, sukuna’s dragging you further and further onto your incoming release and your legs start to rapidly shake even more. you whine and mewl out such sweetened moans, occasionally coming back up for air as you kept his cock warm in your mouth. each time it hits the roof of your mouth, you let off a straddled noise and he finds it so cute, so filthy.

“relax y’er throat, girl,” he mutters, a firm grip on your scalp. with glossy eyes, you follow his words and you stop gagging a bit. he grunts, getting hard every time your pretty eyes make direct contact with him. “such a pretty girl when you listen.” and his tone gets a bit more sensual, more tender.

you whine, feeling sukuna insert a single finger inside of you—you swallow his digit almost immediately and you cringe at hearing your own salaciously lewd squelches.

soaking, sopping wet,

three perfect words to describe between your legs, you choke out a moan once you feel that sensation brew right up inside your stomach. steadily, it was coming closer and closer. you’re breathing through your nose—feeling a few of his pubic hairs tickle against you. you’re moaning, eyes becoming half-lidded and droopy. toji had a mere pout stretching against his face and he felt himself coming close too.

the icing on the cake was your tongue, the way you swirl and slide it against his frenulum—he groans out a low grunt that rings throughout the arena. it reverberates, it's raspy and it only makes you even more aroused. “s-shit, you close too?”

you nod, and toji jeers, finding it amusing to taunt with you as you’re about to reach your inevitable peak. “yeah? gonna make a mess on ‘kuna’s face?”

“told ya don’t call me that,” sukuna grouses, resuming to pump not one but two fingers into you now—you’re almost there. it’s a hot feeling stirring up near your lower abdomen, a pool of it. your eyes start to roll, still slobbering down toji’s cock before he starts to thrust and thrust into your mouth.

“make me.” toji stared at him—and the both of them grew quiet before laughing with each other.

idiots.

your maw opens just a bit wider, and he’s shoving himself in and out of your tight throat—the noises that follow are so lewd, he finds you so pretty like this. mascara all smeared and runny, your hand continues to wrap around his length—his sagged base, so full. you start to salivate again, imagining what his taste was like. you craved it like you crave sweets, sukuna’s tongue running against your clit only made things far more intense before you start to convulse.

“f-fuckkk, ‘m gonna cum,” toji rasps, tilting your head back a bit more. you stare at him, tongue still grazing against the pulsing slit before after a few more pumps—he shoots a nice velvety load into your mouth. he grunts lowly, nostrils flaring up, jaw tightening and all. “. . damn,” he swallows, allowing himself to slow down. you end up finishing around the same time, costing sukuna’s mouth with a honeyed amount of your slick and he hums. you whimper, legs barely able to hold themselves up before you feel toji’s dick pour the remnants of his cum flat on your tongue. “nah, don’t fuckin’ swallow yet. stick it out, lemme see that shit.”

your legs felt like they were about to fall off, sukuna’s kissing near your now swollen entrance and you slowly loll out your tongue. obeying, you didn’t exactly swallow yet and he hums. “best savor that shit,” he groans, giving his veiny cock a few subtle strokes before he smacks his angry tip against your tongue. “and where’s my thank you for the meal, baby?”

“t—thwak y—you toji,” you speak, barely coherent with his seed splattered all on your tongue. you didn’t wanna spill any, and if you did—you didn’t wanna stick around to find out his reaction.

“yeah,” he huffs. “you can swallow now. get every drop in.”

sukuna moves towards you, you’re still laid on the ring’s mat before he softly wraps a hand around your throat. “hey. don’t let this bastard have all the fun, i want a taste too,” and you're taken by surprise once he pulls you into a deep steamy kiss. you moan, feeling him quite literally take your breath away. your tongue drags against sukuna’s chin, the bitterness. a concoction mixture of your saliva and his mixes, and you whine once he snakes a hand up your blazer. you taste yourself on his tongue and it’s so dirty, hot breaths mash against each other, teeth gnashing, and only then do you feel his cunning smirk.

“no one told you to hog her,” toji grumbles, pulling you back towards him. you briefly gasp for air and they both stare at each other, then you. “tell me, baby. who’d you think win in a fight? me or this . . . thing.”

sukuna glares.

“i don’t … know,” you pant out, heaving from your current orgasm—so cute, yet you only wanted more. from kissing sukuna to having your throat entirely filled, you didn’t know which was better. “can we finish?”

“aw, is someone impatient?” sukuna titters, and you stare at his glistening body—beads of sweat race down his precious v-line, the ideal body for a boxer. you just couldn’t stop staring at his pecs, so chiseled. you even thought his pictures were edited, but seeing them up close . . you wanted him, you wanted both of them. “hm. how ‘bout this? we teach you a few ah, moves. full nelson to start, ‘s pretty easy.”

easy, sure.

with it all being easy, you’d least expect to be put into a full nelson position. a mere popular wrestling position, although you’d be performing it with no one other than sukuna.

he’d have you slump back against him, hooking both arms underneath your thighs as you’re taking such mean thrusts from him. time and time again, you’re spasming out. mouth all open, saliva running down the very corners of your lips before you moan. “s—sukuna, oh my godddd,” and you glance up at toji who’s got a cute pout, stroking himself. you lost count of the time, it’s probably been about a good thirty-three minutes by now, thirty plus minutes of various teeth shattering orgasms. your head hits back against him and each time his tip smacks against your cervix, you short circuit. “fuck, fuck, right there, hit it thereee.”

“you coachin’ me how to fuck, dumb girl?” he chortles with a groan shortly following—he was so deep, the heftiness of his base taps against you each time you bounce back against his cock. he sucks his teeth, the way you easily took him had him groaning all up against your ear. “gotta get a little more stretchy, we gotta . . hah, work on your flexibility too, huh.”

“sukuna hurry the fuck up. watching you fuck my girl ‘s boring as shit,” toji grouses, pumping his cock into his fist every few seconds—you stare and he’s so needy, you could tell. his scowl he had earlier forms into a cute pout, dark eyebrows furrowing together and he’s growing impatient.

you caught that though. ‘my’ girl.

who would have thought toji . . the womanizing boxer who’s never had time for any woman throughout his career would start batting for you?

“your girl?” sukuna snickers, resuming to hold your legs up a bit further. he reaches so deep, that your stomach starts to seize and your maw drops. hooded eyes, your lashes flutter and you felt continuous strained breaths get yanked from your lungs. “your girl yet she’s gettin’ fucked by me? the better boxer?”

toji snarls, and he kneels to kiss you. you moan, barely able to return the gesture since you were in the midst of taking sukuna. with being gifted with such sharp thrusts, you dig your nails into his thighs before running tangling your tongue alongside toji’s. his breath was warm, you whine once you feel one of his hands stroke your cheek.

“aha, look at him. already whipped before me,” sukuna snickers, feeling you sink and gape around him—he stretched you out so good already, it was so relentless. each time you bounce back against his lap, the ringing in your ears grows louder and louder. he feels his dick twitch inside you. seeing you make out with toji irks him a bit before he spanks your ass—the recoil making him even more aroused than before. sukuna hums, seeing the current pout on toji’s face before nodding, “aw. toji wants a turn too, yeah? don’t ya . . big guy?” and he intakes a breath, your pussy constricting around his length as sukuna pulls you further to slam back and forth against him. you’re moving against him now as his dick jackhammers right into your gummy was. your mouth idly dangles with your tongue stil shamelessly lolled out. a raw moan rips from the back of your throat at the pure feeling of utter bliss.

so thick, so girthy—you gasp once you feel his fingers tend towards your neglected tits. toji shortly follows, a hand going between your thighs. your cunt was all stuffed of sukuna, feeding your swollen pussy was so many inches. “hngh, f-fuck, fuckkk,” you’d whine between wet, saturated kisses. toji purposely feels against your folds, all stuffed and sopping wet. he rubs a thumb against your slick entrance as your legs were just about to give out. “toji, m-more. need you to touch me more.”

“you don’t need shit, little girl,” he corrects you, squeezing your lips together before presses a kiss against it. you moan, your ass stinging every few seconds from the stings of sukuna’s palm making direct contact against your ass cheek. spank after spank, oh how he adores the jiggle. he could watch it all day, even in slow motion if he could. “such a cute thing though, had the nerve to say you thought our training room was the fuckin’ ladies' room.”

you cringe once he repeats that. the same ringing going through your ears once more. your ears perk, hearing sukuna’s raspy grunts against the shells of your lobes before you start to stammer, “toji, touch me.”

“i’ll touch this messy body when i wanna,” he gruffs, leaning to nip kisses near your neck. sukuna’s still holding you up—you’re like a rag doll, eyes goggling from the stretch before you start to feel it. not your orgasm, but something entirely different. it was a new type of pressure, sweet whiny moans emit out of you before you feel sukuna’s rude tip thrash against your g-spot again, and again, and again..

toji’s thumb softly strokes underneath your neck as he pulls you into a short kiss. you whimper, pulling away before spreading your legs a bit further.

“i— something’s coming, i f-feel tingly.”

sukuna roughly laughs against your ear, seemingly getting what you were implying. “yeah, gonna make another mess on us, princess? oh. i mean on me, heh?”

you shudder, your pussy feeling entirely stuffed and your eyes merely roll way back. he fit nice and snug, you bare around him before a whine drags out your throat. so deep, so so deep, you’re spasming—each relentless piston of his hips makes you whine louder. a feeling that was purely euphoric welts right against you, and you’re laid all back against sukuna’s bare chest, riding him in reverse. “c-choke me, ‘kuna, choke me, please.”

“want me to put you in a headlock, yeah,” he whispers to you in a rough low voice. you moan, feeling him lick against your earlobe before toji strokes your cheek. you could tell he wanted a turn too, the pout on his lips stretching even further. you’re nodding against him before your cunt gapes more. “sure. i’ll let you in on what my opponents feel, pretty girl.”

you moan, his voice was so low up against your ear, you’re about to cum. or were you, you swallow thickly despite having a sudden dry throat— voice all raspy and strained from moaning for such a duration that your head’s woozy. it feels too good, your thighs ache and quaver before you feel a beefy arm wrap around your neck. “upsie daisy, thereee we go,” and he scoots you on his lap just a bit farther. he’s buried to the hilt. you moan, toji pulling you into the nth kiss of the night, lips moving in pure tandem. just when you’re about to finish, you feel him rub against your stuffed cunt once more. yet that’s only when you decide to move your hands towards the boxers . . . nipples.

“t-the fuck,” he grunts in a hoarse tone, his voice was suddenly a bit shaky. it was cute—you couldn’t lie to yourself, you found yourself staring at toji’s chest way more often than you should. practically always shirtless, his pecs were huge. such pink swollen nipples, you slide a thumb against it and he shivers from your touch. “fuckin’ weirdo. ‘m sensitive there, s-shit.”

he doesn’t tell you to stop—instead, he grips your hair not so tightly but firmly. you look up at him, speaking in a tiny yet sheepish tone. “can— can i?”

“can ya what?” he grits, watching as sukuna continues to feed your cunt of his cock — you were just about to burst, you felt it and your toes clench and curl all up. so cute.

with a thumb still sliding against his pecs tenderly, you murmur. dilated pupils flicker towards his chest, then back up at him. “. . can,” you huff out in short breaths, tummy seizing, breathing hot and heavy. “can i suck on them?”

“no you can’t fuckin’ suck on them. what kinda question is tha—”

“toji, don’t be fuckin’ mean. you claim she’s your girl so let her suck your tits, big guy.” sukuna chimes in, releasing his soft grip against your neck. you gasp, leaning way back against him now. he was so warm pent up against you—you whimper out, sukuna leans against your ear and he starts to talk you through your incoming orgasm. “right? wanna make toji a little whiny bitch?”

“shut the fuck up,” he rasps, and his pecs literally stare at you—so beefy, you could have sworn they twitched. he groans, watching you give him such eyes before he inches closer towards you, bending down. “…….fine. whatever.”

still grinding against sukuna’s lap, you hold toji’s pecs before latching your tongue against it. his face scrunches up and it’s so cute, for whatever reason, the way your tongue curls against his perky nipples feels … good. awkwardly, he pulls your head closer towards his chest, eyeing closely as you briefly start to suck. as usual, you were so sloppy too—moaning up against his sensitive skin, rolling your tongue all against his nipple.

“nasty little g—girl,” he chokes out.

you glance up at him, parting your lips away before he makes you go back to tending to his tense nipples. “i didn’t tell you to stop. use y’er fuckin’ tongue some more. and stare at me while you do that . . . weird shit.”

toji’s voice significantly pitches and you’re so into it that you don’t even realize that before you know it, you end up squirting. everything comes at once, you’re pulsing with sukuna’s cock still twitching vigorously inside you and you whimper, mouth still sucking onto toji’s tits nipples. low laughter could be heard from behind you, and it’s all so much. your pussy was equivalent to a waterpark, gushing out all into sukuna’s lap. “fuckkk, princess,” he chortles, slowing down your hips and he ends up finishing a few seconds after you.

when he came inside, it came out quite a lot too. a hefty amount, it came out in ropes to where he paints the entirety of your womb. so warm from the inside, your tummy briefly caves in and your legs felt like mush.

“heh, did you just squirt?” sukuna points out, cock still twitching inside but he just lies still. you’re stretched out literally on the mat, seeing pure stars— the lights of the arena merely blinding you before you lie back against him. “a squirter and you’re tapping out already? aw boo. ‘n here i thought you could handle a few more rounds in the ring, princess.”

“i— i can,” you protest, parting your lips away from toji’s sheeny pecs. your lips were spit-glossed, he stared at you before squatting down to stare at the mess right between your legs. so messy, sukuna lifts you off of him and it just pours right down between your thighs. “i can go for more.”

toji hums, taking a quick three-second glance at his watch. “five fuckin’ minutes, ‘s all you’ll get with . . me,” and it’s cute because a mere pink forms on his face.

he’s still embarrassed from you sucking on his nipples that he tries to act all tough—but that only makes his tone quaver even more. “match’s gonna start soon. sukuna, let’s take her both.”

he snickers, pulling your shirt that was tucked underneath your blazer all the way up.

“both?” and sukuna lifts you to sit on top of toji, straddling him. you were being preparing to be overly stuffed with not one but two cocks. you fall face forward into toji’s broad chest, the coldness of his chain that wraps around his neck brushes against your skin before he helps you align yourself.

you moan, feeling sukuna get behind too—you gulp, toji’s fondling your breasts that almost poke out through your unbuttoned shirt whilst sukuna was behind. you’d be taking them both— one in each hole. “can you handle us both at the same time, pretty girl? toji’s known for his record of lasting a good ah . . . two solid rounds.”

toji glares, feeling himself start to open you up again. with his plump crownhead of his cock, he splits you open, and he is a tad thicker than sukuna—you moan, wrapping flimsy arms around him before sukuna enters from behind with toji focusing on the front. “shut up. you say that ‘n act like i won’t k.o. you right now.”

“oh yeah?” sukuna cavils, and you gasp, landing on the cold canvas with an 'oof' once the boxer lightly places you down. you pout—glancing up at the two of them who were having a face off at a time like this. sukuna already pulled out and they stared each other down before toji slyly smiles. “is that a fact?” and for a brief moment, he leers down at toji’s sheeny lips— the dark-haired boxer slides his tongue against his scar before humming.

“don’t play, you know it is,” he replies, giving you one ogle before turning back towards his rival. “y’know, ‘kuna. you sure talk a lot of shit but you couldn’t even pin me down if you tried.”

sukuna rasps lowly, inching closer before they were inches apart—you thought they were gonna kiss at this rate. oh, something like this would be such a good inspiration for the headlines.

“if you wanted my attention, should have said so,” sukuna sneers, rubbing his hand that was carefully wrapped up in a white bandage against his slim torso. “besides, i think we all know who can last more rounds.”

“did you two just forget about me—?” you furrow your eyebrows, literally still soaked and laid against the corner of the ring. they shoot you a glance before turning back towards each other.

toji scoffs back at sukuna, ignoring you. “prove it then. pin me the fuck down, hot shot.”

“bend the fuck over then, big guy. we’ll show the pretty journalist who’s gonna win this night’s match. round fuckin’ one.”

[jaylalolz]

Heyy girl i love ur writing so much! Could i do a request of Father Charlie Smut, with him and reader who loves wearing short dresses and skirts but like she’s innocent girl. She wears one during mass and he can’t stop eyeing her the whole time.

❛ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐒 ❜ . . . nicholas chavez

INNOCENT!reader x PRIEST!charlie 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

SUMMARY, charlie can’t take his eyes off of her while she wears those short skirts all the time. he realizes that she needs to be punished.

A/N, thanks for requesting!! hope you like it.

WARNINGS, smuttyyyy

Charlie stood at the altar, his voice steady as he read from the Bible. It was an ordinary Sunday mass, yet something felt off. His words were focused on the sermon, but his mind kept wandering, distracted by a presence in the crowd. A familiar one. He tried to ignore it at first, pushing through the scriptures, but every few minutes, his eyes darted back to the same spot.

There she was, sitting in the third row—his favorite girl. She had a way of turning heads without even trying.

Charlie noticed her as soon as she entered the church, the short, black skirt she wore clinging tightly to her legs. It was far from appropriate for a Sunday service, or for any visit to church. It wasn’t just the length—barely reaching mid-thigh—but the way she seemed completely unfazed by it, sitting there confidently, crossing and uncrossing her legs like the length didn’t matter.

He could feel a tension rising inside him, an unfamiliar mix of emotions that tugged at his composure. Why had she worn that here, of all places?

As mass ended and people began filtering out, Charlie couldn’t help but keep his eyes on her. He needed to say something, to address it before it gnawed at him further. With a sigh, he stepped down from the altar and walked toward her.

She was lingering by the restrooms, her usual smile playing on her lips. As soon as she saw Charlie approaching, her eyes brightened.

“Charlie,” she said warmly, tilting her head. “Your sermon was great today.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, his tone a little more serious than usual. He paused, looking at her outfit up close, his brow furrowing. “can we talk for a second?”

Her smile faltered just a bit, noticing the change in his mood. “Sure,” she said slowly, stepping aside with him.

Charlie took a breath, keeping his voice low. “Listen… I couldn’t help but notice what you’re wearing today.”

She blinked, her brows raising in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“The skirt,” he gestured awkwardly, his eyes darting to the hem that barely covered anything. “It’s… not exactly appropriate for church.”

She looked down at her outfit, as if she hadn’t even thought about it before. Her expression was neutral, but there was a hint of something else in her eyes—maybe defiance. “Is it bothering you?”

He shifted on his feet, unsure how to respond. “It’s just… This is a place of worship. People come here to connect with God, and I think what you’re wearing might distract from that. Not just for me—for everyone.”

Her lips curled into a small smile, her voice softening. “Are you saying I’m distracting you, Charlie?”

His face heated up at her teasing tone, but he forced himself to stay serious. “I’m not trying to make this personal. I’m just asking you to be mindful of where you are.”

She studied him for a moment, her eyes searching his face as if weighing her next words carefully. “I didn’t mean to cause a scene. It’s just a skirt, Charlie. Can’t help it if people stare.”

“I know that,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “But people judge, whether we like it or not. And in a place like this, modesty is important.”

Her smile faded, her expression softening. She looked him in the eye, sensing the sincerity behind his words. “I didn’t think it would be such a big deal. But… I’ll be more careful next time.”

He exhaled in relief, nodding. “Thanks. I just want to make sure everyone’s focus is where it should be.”

She gave him a playful nudge. “Well, maybe you just need to focus a little better.”

“You think this is appropriate? You’re drawing attention to the wrong things” Charlie ran a hand through his hair, trying to keep his cool. He knew he wasn’t explaining it right, but the way she stood there, so confident in defying him, was only making his thoughts more muddled.

She cut him off, her eyes narrowing. “Drawing attention? Isn’t that a you problem? Maybe you’re the one who’s distracted, not me.”

Her words hit a nerve, and suddenly, everything Charlie had been holding back came flooding out. “Yes, I am distracted!” His voice was louder than he intended, but it was too late to stop now. “Do you think it’s easy standing up there, trying to give a sermon, trying to focus on leading a mass, when you’re sitting there in the front row, wearing something that… that—”

“That what?” she pressed, her tone icy now.

Charlie swallowed hard, the confession finally spilling from his lips. “That makes it impossible not to notice you. Every time I look out at the congregation, you’re the first person I see. And it’s distracting. It’s not just about the skirt, it’s about… you.”

The air between them felt heavy with his words, and for a moment, She seemed stunned. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, processing what he had just admitted.

“You know,” he began, his voice low and smooth, “I bet you like it when I give you my attention.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and she felt the color rise to her cheeks. She quickly looked away, trying to laugh it off, but her laugh came out awkward, a bit too high-pitched, betraying the nerves that were now crawling their way up her spine.

“What are you talking about?” she said, trying to sound casual, but her voice wavered. She could feel the heat in her face, the way her hands suddenly felt restless as she fiddled with the edge of the throw pillow beside her.

Charlie chuckled, leaning forward slightly, narrowing the distance between them. “You do this thing,” he continued, his eyes never leaving her, “where you act like you don’t care, like I’m not getting to you. But I can see it.” His voice dropped lower, his tone almost teasing. “I can always see it.”

Her heart raced faster now, a dull thrum in her chest. She pressed her lips together, unsure of what to say. He wasn’t wrong. Of course, he wasn’t wrong. She hated that he could read her so easily, hated that she couldn’t hide how his attention made her feel. Nervous, yes. But there was more to it than that, and she wasn’t ready to admit what that was.

“You’re full of yourself,” she finally managed, her words barely above a whisper.

Charlie’s smile widened, that maddening, knowing smile that only made her nerves worse. He leaned back again, but his eyes still held her captive. “Maybe. But I’m not wrong, am I?”

She swallowed, trying to hold onto whatever was left of her composure. “You’re imagining things,” she said, shaking her head, but even to her ears, the denial sounded weak.

“Am I? cause for some reason you always wear a skirt when your around me. I’m not stupid. ” he asked, his tone challenging now, as though daring her to keep denying it.

she looked away again, desperate to break the tension that was steadily building between them. But it was too late. His words had already burrowed into her mind, making it impossible to escape the truth she was trying so hard to ignore.

"Just admit it, already," Charlie said, his voice low and certain, sending a ripple of heat through her.

She swallowed, her hands fidgeting in her lap as she desperately tried to hold onto some sense of control. "Admit what?"

Charlie smirked, standing up from his spot and slowly walking toward her. He was too close now, his presence too overwhelming, the scent of his cologne filling the air around her. He stopped just inches away, his gaze holding hers captive, daring her to keep pretending she didn't know what he was talking about.

"You like it when I give you my attention," he said, his voice almost a whisper, but every word felt like it hit her with the weight of something inevitable. "You like it when I make you nervous."

Her breath caught in her throat. She could feel the heat rising in her face, the rush of adrenaline making her pulse quicken. She wanted to deny it, to brush off his words like she always did, but something about the way he was looking at her made it impossible to lie.

Charlie took another step closer, so close now that she could feel the warmth of his body radiating toward her.

She leaned back slightly, her back pressing against the wall as if it would give her some distance from the truth staring her in the face.

"Charlie, I-" she started, but the words got caught, tangled with her emotions.

He leaned in just a little more, his face inches from hers, his breath warm against her skin. She could feel the tension between them building to a breaking point. His eyes softened, just a flicker of something raw and real underneath the teasing. And in that moment, she knew he wasn't going to let her hide.

"Admit it," he whispered, his voice so quiet, yet so commanding. "You wear those skirts for me”

She hesitated for a split second, her heart pounding in her chest, her thoughts racing, before she finally let go. It was terrifying how right he was.

The way he made her feel, the way his attention seemed to pull her in, no matter how much she tried to fight it.

She couldn't keep denying it, not to him, and not to herself.

"I wear them for you," she finally whispered, her voice barely audible, but she knew he heard her.

A slow, satisfied smile spread across Charlie's face, and for a moment, neither of them moved. The air between them seemed to buzz with something electric, something inevitable.

Then, before she could overthink it, before she could take it back, Charlie's hand was at her cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against her skin as he tilted her face up to his. The world seemed to slow down, the room spinning away until there was only him, only them, in this moment they both knew was coming.

"Good," he murmured softly, his eyes locked on hers. "My naughty fucking girl."

And then, with a deliberate slowness, he leaned down and kissed her.

It wasn't hesitant or unsure. His lips were warm, soft, yet firm against hers, and the moment they connected, something inside her melted. She felt herself lean into him, her hands instinctively finding their way to his chest, clutching his shirt like it was the only thing holding her upright.

The kiss deepened, his hand slipping into her hair, pulling her just a little closer. She could feel the tension unraveling between them, all the unspoken words and hidden feelings pouring out in that one perfect moment.

Everything else faded away-the nerves, the fear, the constant push and pull-until all that was left was the warmth of his lips on hers, the way his touch seemed to set her skin on fire.

When they finally pulled apart, they were both breathless, their foreheads resting against each other's. Neither of them spoke for a long moment, both caught up in the aftermath of what had just happened, of what had been building for so long.

He says, "I thought about you every single day after I met you for the first time," as he presses kisses to her cheek and slides his hands down her arms in a leisurely motion that mimics the path his wet lips followed on the way up.

She's trying to listen, but as they explore, the ache he's started between her legs feels like it's pulsating in her ears, and his hands are scratching her skin. He shakes his head and lets out a breathy laugh before giving her another painful kiss and nips in between his low, hoarse confessions. “Always thought about those fucking skirts you wore" When he traces his sharp nails from the inside of her knees up to the tops of my inner thighs, she gasps.

He presses his mouth to her ear, his hot breath making her shiver. "No one compares to you," he mumbles, his voice lowering to a low pitch that turns her stomach. He presses his face against her head and lets out a deep groan as the fingers on one hand slide higher and higher until they draw a slow, agonizing stroke up her heat. The other hand smooths back up her stomach.

Her eyes roll closed and she can only hold her breath as her head lulls back. "All those times you teased me.. I think you deserve to get punished," he says forcing her to a wall.

He exhales, "Shit, you're soaking." She can feel his chest rising and falling rapidly against her back as he lingers, slowly and indulgently stroking his fingers along her shamefully damp folds, avoiding where she really needs them. Nipping at the flesh on her neck, he mumbles against her, "Such a good girl for me, yeah?" she nods eagerly.

One of Charlie's fingers sneaks up and softly wraps around her throat, while the other eventually slides up to rest on the area that has been throbbing ever since he had her pinned to a wall. He maintains his lips tight against her ear, matching the pants pouring out of her, starting to circle his fingers around her clit in the same rhythm.

"Do you feel that?" He flicks her nerves more quickly and puts more pressure on them while rasping into her ear. “your chest get tighter and your heart beating faster?"

She shifts her hips against him mindlessly, her mouth hanging wide, and she doesn't even know how she manages to say a breathless yes, but nevertheless, she manages. "How incredible that feels, you never want it to end?" He goes on, getting a closer hold on her throat, not tight enough to stop her breathing, but tight enough to pull a high-pitched groan out of her, taking her earlobe between his teeth. She panted out another yes and swallowed. "That's how I feel when you're around me, looking at me through your eyelashes- smiling at me. I can feel it in my bones."

She squirms, unable to keep still at the fire igniting inside of her, between what he's saying and what he's doing with his fingers, and her legs begin to shake. His loud, taunting voice reverberates around her, his untamed hair strewn about with strands falling in front of his hungry gaze. "No coming just yet, Angel. I need to taste you."

She can only fling her head back and hide a choked groan the moment he presses his lips to her warmth. He offers her one last slow, dimpled smirk as he wraps his arms around her thighs, holding onto her hips as he sits between her legs. His warm tongue flattens against her clit as his fingers bite into her skin while he lets a deep sigh that rumbles up through him and vibrates against her and she whine at the feeling.

Her back arches as she lets out wild cries that she can't control, and she's clinging to his hair for dear life as his tongue begins to circle and draw deft patterns against her nerves. Her senses are completely assaulted by the guttural moans and growls that are coming out of him as he relishes every response he receives from her. The stress within her was nearly too much for her to bear.

She cries out at the sensation as he his ring and middle finger enters her. The build-up to everything and the delicate way he's sucking and lapping at her pulsating core while his fingers coil inside of her to target that point that has her vision blurring are just too many sensations happening at once. He retracts his tongue while maintaining a fixed gaze on her. He accelerates the speed of his fingers, purposefully striking the area of her body that is producing such a strong pressure.

"Charlie" She exclaim, "What-What is, I don't know what's-oh fuck"; she squeezes her eyes tight, feeling a growing sense of violence inside of her. He examines her expression and quickens the tempo of his careful fingers. He purrs, encouraging her to go forward as he flicks his eyes down to watch his fingers thrust into her. "Don't worry baby, just go with it, it's okay, you're okay".

He moans as he continues to watch what he's doing. She begins to shake, her muscles contracting. She can no longer resist the sensation that her body is having a seizure and going into seclusion at the same time. "Charlie!" She throws her head back, arches off the wall, and yells until the pain tears through her like nothing she has ever experienced. When it finally fades, every part of her body feels as heavy as cement, and she nearly collapses on the ground, her chest heaving as she tries to take in as much oxygen as she can.

“Never wear that skirt again or you’ll regret it”

[pyrrhiccomedy]

This is my cat.

His name is Eddie Potato.

Eddie Potato came home with us from the animal shelter in January (so about 9 months ago, now). He was around five years old, and had been living on the street before he was picked up by the cops and brought to the state run shelter (my boy was arrested for loitering). When we met him, he was sick, mite-infested, and covered in matted fur, scratches, and bites: but he was also very sweet, and very friendly, and he was already fixed, so we knew he must have once had a home with some loving humans.

[Eddie at his first vet appointment, trying to hide behind a paper towel.]

We'll never know what Eddie's first family was like, of course: but within a couple of weeks of adopting him, we were able to make a few guesses. He was happy to be pet, and calm about being picked up: but the only way he had to let us know that he'd like us to stop petting him was to swat our hands away, claws out. He'd then watch us, very closely, a little tense; like he was either expecting to be scolded for scratching, or expecting us to try to touch him again.

This told us that he had an affectionate family, but maybe not one that respected his boundaries. Maybe it was a family with kids, or maybe just a loving but pushy owner.

He's a medium-to-long haired cat, so he needs a bit of grooming to stay hygienic around his, let's say, pants area. I bought some quality clippers and a pet grooming electric razor. The clippers he was completely calm about: he let me trim the mats out of his fur very calmly, even the ones behind his ears.

The razor terrified him. I mean, he knew what it was on sight. He was sitting next to me on the couch when I took it out of the box, and the moment he saw it, his ears went back; he crouched low and fearful; and then jumped down and ran out of the room.

Okay; so his first family groomed him, or took him to a groomer, that was obvious: and it was probably a 'hold him down and get it over with' kind of experience, given how frightened he was.

He was very sweet, and very gentle - except when he wanted you to stop petting him. This was a cat who expected kindness, who believed that the humans around him were his friends: but he'd learned that his friends wouldn't listen to him when he told them to stop unless he drew a little bit of blood.

We just thought: wow, this cat is a really good communicator. He is being, like, so clear.

Eddie Potato is a very stupid boy - uncommonly stupid, even for a cat - so we prepared ourselves for it to take a while for him to learn that things had changed. We paid very close attention to him while we were petting him for the signs leading up to that swat, and we got better and better at stopping before the swat ever came.

I let him get used to the razor very slowly: for the first week, I just set it next to his food bowl at dinner time, about a foot away, so he could see it while he was at his happiest. For the next week, I'd pick up the razor, and move it around while he ate. The week after that, I turned it on for a few seconds, so he could start to get used to the noise. The week after that, it went on for most of his meal time, and I moved it around his body while I pet him: so he could start to associate the razor sound with nice touching.

Then I groomed him. And he was - fine. A little bit antsy, but fine. Happily munching away at his dinner while I neatened up his pantaloons. I usually only had about a minute before he made it clear that he wanted it to stop, but that was okay: I just groomed him for a minute or so for two or three days in a row, until the job was done.

After four months, Eddie Potato wasn't scared of the razor at all anymore.

And it broke my heart a little bit, because his first family had clearly loved him. And Eddie is a cat who needs to be groomed! And it had obviously always been a scary and stressful experience for him. But it didn't have to be! He just needed patience! Surely, if the people he had lived with before had known that he could learn to not be afraid in just a few months, they would have tried.

Teaching him that he didn't need to swat didn't take much longer. It was so clear that this was not a cat who wanted to hurt us. Once we got the hang of stopping before he got tired or stressed out by petting, the swatting went away completely.

What was so sweet was what he learned to do instead: when he was done with being pet, he started placing his big paws on my hand, and gently but firmly pushing it away.

"Oh, okay!" I'd say. "We're done!" and take my hand away. And he'd watch me, for two or three seconds: and then he'd start to purr like crazy, and push under my hand again.

He wanted to be pet. He just wanted to know that he could make it stop if he wanted to!

It's been months now since the last time Eddie swiped at either of us. Sometimes, he likes to play his little push-away game for ten or twenty minutes at a time! He rolls onto his back for a belly rub, and I do for a few minutes; then he pushes my hand away, and watches to make sure I listened; then he rolls onto his back again for more belly rubs. The whole time purring, purring, purring. Eddie loves his belly rubs, and he loves being listened to just as much.

I'm just so proud of him! He's had such a hard and scary year: losing his family, living on the street, ending up in a kill shelter, going to a strange new home with strange new people. And he still extended his friendship and trust to us, and let us show him that he doesn't need to be scared anymore, of razors or hands or thunderstorms or the sound of traffic. He's so dumb and so small and he's had so much happen to him, and now he gets exactly as much petting as he likes, and he isn't afraid to get his pantaloons trimmed.

Like. That's my little guy. I get to make sure he'll be okay from now on.

[sanguineterrain]

YES. BODYGUARD JASON TODD.

He's used to being looked over, just seen as meat & muscle (he doesn't mind, it's part of the job) but you're the first "job" who actually sees him, talks to him, makes him laugh 🫠 he doesn't know what he'll do if someone actually tries to put their hands on you 🙂

hiiii aud thank you for the scrumptious jaybird thoughts <3 so begins my bodyguard!Jason agenda!

bodyguard!jason todd x gn!reader. fluff, pining, and tension so thick you could cut it with a batarang.

All fics are reblogged to @sanguinelibrary

****

"Y'know, I think you just keep me around to carry your bags."

You grin over your shoulder where the Red Hood trails behind you, always five paces behind. Your takeout bag is in one hand, your new shirts in another. He wears a red mask over the lower half of his face, like always. Only seeing his eyes used to unnerve you, but now it's a comfort, finding his gaze in a crowd.

"That's not true. I also keep you around for something nice to look at," you say.

He tilts his head. Your belly flutters. "Flattery will get you nowhere, trouble."

"Flattery got me outside of my hotel, Red."

He sighs. "Tricking the hotel concierge doesn't count."

You laugh. "Sure it does. I think it does." You stick your arm out. "Will you walk next to me?"

"You know my rule."

"But you can easily cover me if you're next to me! And I'm so good at ducking. See?"

You duck and straighten a few times in a row to demonstrate. A few people stare. You ignore them. Hood's eyes crinkle in a way that tells you he's smiling.

"Mm, incredible technique. Wonder who taught you that. A ruggedly handsome bodyguard, perhaps?"

"Always hungry for the credit," you say. "Despicable."

"Ain't I?"

You turn around and stop. He stops five paces behind. You take a step forward. He takes a step back.

"I wanna see your face when we talk," you say, face pinched.

"Not in public, trouble. It's for your safety. You know that."

"Can't you come a little closer?"

None of your friends are like this with their personal guards. A moment from a friend's birthday party resurfaces.

It's almost like you'd rather be with him than us. You know he's just doing his job, right?

Hood stays exactly where he is. "This is the ideal spot for covering you. Now, c'mon. Thought you wanted to shop."

You sigh and let your arms flop to your sides. He must be nervous today. You can't imagine why.

"Fine. Be that way."

You hurry ahead. Hood doesn't lag behind. Stupid long-legged bodyguard.

"You can be mad at me as long as you stay safe," he says.

You turn again, about to really bitch about how strict he's being. But his proximity stops you short. He's inched closer, so close that you can properly see his eyes.

"This close enough for you?" he asks.

Hood's eyes are warm in the light, mossy and rich. His lashes and brows are dark and thick. Once or twice, you've seen a splash of freckles across his nose. The bridge of his nose is crooked like it's been broken one too many times.

Dear God, you yearn to know him.

Your stomach does more flips. Hood watches you, half-lidded.

"What're y'doing, trouble?"

His voice is soft, the way it gets when he's trying to smooth over a tiff between you. You can't figure out why he does that. You always get over it. And so does he. He has no choice.

"I'm looking at you, Red," you say.

"Yeah? What're y'lookin' at me for?"

"'Cause I want to."

He blinks. "Me? Not much to look at."

You look at each other for another minute. The want bubbles up again, spills out of your mouth before you can stop it.

"Please walk next to me," you say. "I need to know you're there."

He leans in to speak, black curl tumbling over his forehead. He smells sweet, like apples and spice. You almost appreciate the danger in your life because it keeps you in the Red Hood's line of sight.

"Wha's the matter? Y'nervous? I'm right here."

Oh, you're nervous, alright. Just not in the way he thinks. The way you ought to be.

You turn around. For your sake and his.

"Not nervous. Just... just... never mind. You pick where we go next, Red."

"It's your day. 'M just the driver," he says.

"If you won't walk next to me, the least you can do is pick where we go."

"The least I can do, huh?"

It's clear he isn't going to choose. So you watch him instead. You turn the corner and sneak glances over your shoulder. You don't care much about shopping anymore anyway. It's only an excuse to go out. To be alone with him.

Your answer comes. It's only for a split second, but you catch it anyway. He taught you to notice things after all. Says it could be the difference between living and dying.

You immediately change course. Hood follows you easily, and you breeze through the bookstore's entrance. You sneak a look to gauge his reaction. He's looking around, but that could just be him clocking the exits and obstacles. You grab his hand. He looks at your joined hands, then at you.

"Feeling lost?" he asks.

"No. Just trying to keep you present. Nothing’s gonna happen in a bookshop, Red."

That crease in the middle of his forehead returns. "'S my job to plan for the worst. Keeping you safe is the only thing that matters."

"Not the only thing."

His eyebrows rise. "Whaddya talking about? 'Course it is."

You look at your joined hands. This is bad. This is really, really bad. You'd might as well pull your heart out of your chest and let Hood carry that too.

You start to walk, fingers slipping out of his. Hood doesn't try to rejoin them.

He stays closer in here, close enough that you can talk quietly and smell his apple pie scent.

"What do you like to read?" you ask.

Hood glances at you. "Clocked that about me, did you?"

"I was taught by the best," you say sweetly.

He hums. Doesn't joke or laugh. Just makes a soft sound. It's not often you render him speechless.

"I loved Frankenstein as a kid. I always hoped he'd love his monster, but..."

Hood disappears for a moment, lost in his head. You take his hand, heart be damned.

"Red?"

He looks at you again. His eyes are wild. Sometimes, it seems like they glow.

"My... my dad used to read it to me," he says. "One time I asked if he'd love the monster anyway. He promised he would."

You rub his knuckles. He flinches, like he's forgotten where he is. 

"Someone's devotion to our monstrous parts is something we all want," you say.

You spend more time in the bookstore. Hood attracts a few stares, like always, but you're left alone. He carries your shopping without complaint, without strain, and you wonder if your friend was right, if this is just a job.

You buy a special edition of Frankenstein under his attention. Then you turn around and hand him the book. He keeps it under his arm.

"Ready to head back? Y'hungry?"

"That's for you," you say.

"Hm? What is?"

"The book. It's for you, Red."

Silence. The second time that you've stunned the words out of him. You're on a roll.

"Y'don't have to do that," he says, gentle as can be.

"It's a present for you. A thank you."

Hood shakes his head. "You don't need to thank me for protecting you. Just doing my job."

"I'm thanking you for being my friend. Because... you are, right? My friend?"

This time, Hood's eyes on you are heavy. You wonder if he can see your heart beating, see your belly fluttering, see the real reason why you get nervous around him.

"Yeah, trouble," he says, book cradled to his chest like it's precious cargo. "I'm yours."

[queenie-the-court-jester]

that isn't very holy of you :/

Yandere church boy x gn!reader

It came out shittier than I hoped for. Not proofread 🌺 I'll fix this when I have the time

Tw: religious themes, noncon mention, minor cult mention

✝️ you had just arrived in the small town of morning star. Having been needing a break from the city life, you rented a one bedroom cabin close by. Planning on staying here for a month, you quickly headed towards your new home, very eager to start exploring the area

✝️ wandering around the town square, it seemed everyone knew eachother. A family like community perhaps? Maybe that's why they all kept staring at you as passed through, must not be use to new faces

✝️that was until a group of children approached, asking you to come play ball with them. You couldn't say no to their puppy dog eyes, and the adult's judgemental stares so you agreed. And it was fun surprisingly! You noticed none of the children had any phones.. or the grown up's for that matter

✝️your first week there you were unsettled, but you just pushed it off as the townsfolks strange behavior, Focusing on unpacking and enjoying your stsy. Until one of the school teachers, a kindergarten one, knocked on your door on a sunday

"hi there honey! On behalf of the people I'd like to sincerely apologize for the cold welcome. It's just been a hard year for all of us! So to make it up you, won't you come to church with us on this fine morning?"

✝️ whether or not you're religious yourself, she managed to convince you to come along. Chatting the whole walk there. Talking about her husband, her children. She mentioned something about having a son your age but you weren't really paying attention

✝️ walking through the grand double doors of the church house, she sat you on the front row with the pastors family, next to a young man. You were startled as she sat on the other side of you, leaning in to whisper In Your ear as she pointed at the pastor preaching

"that's my hubby right there. He's a handsome fella ain't he?"

✝️david looked at his mother in disbelief, he told her a few a times he found you attractive and now look at her! He could practically see the gears turning in her head. thankfully you seemed preoccupied thinking, so he did his best to seem normal while his poor heart beated 300 mph

✝️after the sermon, david turned to you and have you a sheepish smile

"hi.. my name's David, but you can call me dave.. its.. nice to meet you"

✝️you and David hit it off, unlike all the other people. He didn't constantly talk about praising god and forcing his religion down your throat. He was kind, understanding. Laughing at your jokes and nodding along to your words. He never met someone so.. ethereal

✝️growing up, he had a hard time believing in his small towns "god". Watching them cut up and sacrifice newcomers to their false idols, he felt sick to the pit of his stomach heading their screams. But he could definitely devote his cause to you...

✝️he trapped you in this shitty town when he asked you out on a little date a few days later. Unaware he drugged your food and dragging you into his home, waking up chained to a bed. You couldn't tell how long you've been there, but every time you'd try to escape he'd punish you in bed. Not letting you cum or overstimulating you to the point of tears. Why would you want to leave something that can make you feel so good?

✝️he grew up desensitized to blood and gore, so he's confused when you're screaming and crying. Why are you doing that? Don't you know that this is what happens to bad spouses? What do you mean you're not married either? ofcourse you are. Stop being so difficult...

✝️nobody blinks an eye when he strides into town with you on a collar and leash. And that's when you realized, you should have left earlier. Because the whole town was sick in the head. It wasn't like you could call for help because he fucking destroyed your electronics and the people don't even have phones. Something about wifi signals can brainwash you

✝️ he's whipped for you, that much you can obviously tell. but he's smarter than he looks. Eating dinner with his family is just painful,since all they talk about is God god god. It hurts your ears with how often they just Randomly start singing praises. It's bad enough they force you to watch their cult church activities...

✝️if you give in to his demands, he'll let you off the leash but you have to stay close by at all times. If you don't, he'll have to make his punishments a little more extreme. There's also a possibility he'll force you to help around the town. whether that be looking after the children or just running around doing errands. The shock bracelet on your ankle stops you from running into the woods..

✝️if you don't, well.. you wouldn't mind if you became permanently handicapped right?

"don't be so difficult sweetie.. just stay still and it'll cut right through okay?'

[pastryfication]

HIIII so I was wondering If you could pleaseee write a dad oscar piastri x daughter (like four y/o) where he teaches her how to play chess and turns our she's so good at it just like Oscar was as a kid!

checkmate! | oscar piastri

oscar sat cross-legged on the living room floor, the chessboard laid out between him and your daughter. the pieces were neatly arranged, ready for the first move. his little girl, barely four years old, was sitting opposite him, her tiny fingers hovering over the pawns, her eyes wide with curiosity.

“alright, sweetheart,” oscar said softly, smiling at her focused expression. “this is how we start. the pawns move first, see?” he nudged one of the white pawns forward, showing her how it worked.

she nodded, her brow furrowed in concentration. her hands were still so small, but she mimicked his move perfectly, pushing one of her black pawns forward.

from the couch, you watched them with a warm smile, your heart swelling as you saw the bond they shared. oscar’s patience, his gentle guidance, and your daughter’s eager determination—it was one of those simple, beautiful moments that made everything in life feel just right.

oscar chuckled softly, glancing up at you, his eyes twinkling with pride. “she’s a quick learner, isn’t she?” he said, admiration clear in his voice.

you nodded, your smile widening. “just like her dad.”

they continued playing, and as the game went on, you couldn’t help but notice how your daughter wasn’t just following oscar’s instructions—she was thinking ahead, planning her moves with surprising skill for such a little girl. you watched closely, fascinated, as she carefully moved her pieces, her little face scrunched up in concentration.

“daddy, look!” she suddenly exclaimed, her voice bursting with excitement. “checkmate!”

oscar blinked in surprise, his expression shifting from shock to a proud smile. “wow, sweetheart,” he said, genuinely impressed. “you’re really good at this.”

you couldn’t contain your laughter as you saw the joy in your daughter’s eyes. “looks like you’ve got some serious competition, osc,” you teased.

it don’t take more than a few minutes before “checkmate!” once again was declared triumphantly, her little giggles filling the room as oscar slumped back dramatically, pretending to be utterly defeated.

“you beat me!” oscar laughed, pulling her into his lap. “you’re amazing, you know that?”

you watched them cuddle, your heart full to the brim. there they were—your two favorite people, sharing a special moment that you knew would be one of many. as they whispered about playing again tomorrow, you knew this was just the beginning of something beautiful.

“we can play as much as you want, my little champion,” oscar promised, and you couldn’t help but smile, knowing that your little girl was already following in her dad’s footsteps in more ways than one.

——

five years had passed since oscar piastri had first introduced his daughter to the game of chess on their living room floor. what had started as a fun bonding activity had quickly grown into a shared passion, and now, at nine years old, she was entering her first school chess competition.

the gymnasium buzzed with excitement as students and parents gathered around the rows of tables set up for the event. the air was thick with anticipation, and you could feel your own heart pounding as you watched her from the sidelines.

oscar stood next to you, his hand resting on your lower back affectionately, his face a picture of calm pride. “she’s got this,” he whispered, more to himself than to you, though you could see the hint of nerves in his eyes.

“of course she does,” you replied with a reassuring smile, squeezing his hand. “just like her dad.”

your daughter sat at her designated table, her chessboard in front of her, looking as poised and focused as you had ever seen her. she glanced over at the two of you and grinned, that same spark of determination in her eyes that she’d had since she was little. you waved back, trying to send her all the confidence you could muster.

the first match began, and you watched as she moved her pieces with a precision and foresight that left you in awe. every lesson oscar had taught her, every late-night game they had played together, all of it was coming to life in this moment. she was no longer just playing for fun; she was competing, strategizing, and, most importantly, enjoying every second of it.

as the match progressed, it became clear that she wasn’t just good—she was exceptional. one by one, her opponents fell, each match ending with a handshake and a smile, and each time, she looked over to the two of you with that same joyful grin. it was in those moments that you knew she was doing exactly what she was meant to do. and you couldn’t be more happy that you had chosen oscar to be the father of your children, because the beaming smile he received as she stood and accepted her trophy made your cheeks hurt from smiling. and when she later found her way back to you and sprinted into his arms where he held her tight, whispering to her that he was proud of his little champion, you heart was close to exploding with joy.

[steddieas-shegoes]

Eddie loved flying. When the sun was out and he could watch the cars and houses get smaller while they reached altitude. When everything felt a bit lighter and his stress was under the clouds.

He did not love flying when the weather was bad.

In fact, he’d joked with the flight attendant that maybe they should delay the flight until the wind and dark clouds passed, but she just laughed and said the pilots were used to it.

Good for them. Eddie wasn’t.

He always sat in the window seat in first class, usually had some old businessman on his way to close a very important deal next to him. That wasn’t an option for this last minute flight though, so he was in the last row of the plane, leg bouncing nervously as people continued to board.

“As a courtesy to those around you, please stow your personal items under the seat in front of you as soon as you are in your seat. This allows a faster boarding process for all of us. Thank you!”

The announcement was a reminder that Eddie was flying without his usual carry-on items. His tour manager had packed him a checked bag and sent him on his way.

So he had his phone and his wallet, and eyes looking out the window next to him watching rain start to hit the tarmac below.

“Excuse me, I think that’s my seat,” a man’s voice said from the aisle.

Eddie looked over and saw a long line of men roughly his age in matching track suits, backpacks over their shoulders, and the Notre Dame logo on their jackets.

They were all tall. Well, all except the guy talking to him now. He was pretty average size.

“Uh. I don’t think so man. I’m 36F,” Eddie answered as kindly as his nerves would allow.

The guy checked his phone, brows creasing together.

“I’m 36F.”

No fucking way was Eddie giving up his window seat.

“Is there a problem?” A flight attendant asked from behind them.

“We’re both supposed to be in 36F?” The guy held his phone towards the attendant.

“May I see your boarding pass, sir?” The attendant asked Eddie.

Eddie pulled his own phone out, holding out the mobile boarding pass for her to see it.

“Sorry sir, it looks like you should be in 36E.”

Oh no.

Oh god no.

A middle seat?

There was no fucking way.

“I’m sorry, would it be at all possible for me to be in a window seat?” Eddie didn’t want to cause problems, but his chest was starting to clench and his breaths were coming in short pants.

“Unfortunately, this is a sold out flight. We wouldn’t have any available for you.”

He could feel eyes on him, quite a few of them, but none as obvious as the guy who actually belonged in 36F.

“We can just switch, man. No big deal.”

Eddie sighed with relief.

“Thank you, yeah. That’d be great.”

The attendant nodded and gestured for the guy to sit down.

Someone behind him sat on his other side and they immediately started talking as if nothing had happened.

See? Eddie had actually done them a favor! Now he could talk to his teammate for whatever sport he played and Eddie could watch their impending demise through the window.

The plane was rocking back and forth from the force of the wind blowing outside and the sky continued to grow darker despite the early afternoon hour. Eddie was considering sending a goodbye text to his band when he felt a hand on his arm.

“Hey, you okay?”

Eddie’s eyes widened as he turned to look at the guy next to him.

“Do you normally get nervous when you fly? Or is this your first time?” He continued. “Sometimes it helps to just close your eyes during takeoff.”

It was kind of him to try this, truly, but Eddie knew kindness wouldn’t save them if lightning hit them.

“I’m just not a fan of storms.”

The guy was watching him while his teammate on the other side of him talked to the guys across the aisle. Eddie was surrounded by this entire team. The irony was not lost on him that he spent so much of his youth expressing disdain for sports ball and might die among a group of sports ball players.

“Steve.” The guy nudged his shoulder against Eddie’s instead of offering his hand, an odd thing to do but the contact was grounding.

“Eddie.”

“You wanna hold my hand?”

Did they already die during takeoff? Did Eddie somehow end up in heaven?

This very attractive man, who definitely didn’t even know who Eddie was, was offering comfort in these trying times. Offering to hold his hand!

“Uh.”

Steve smiled. “It’s okay if not, but I figured it might help you focus on something else.”

“Sure.”

Steve held his hand out, palm up, and Eddie laced their fingers together.

“So, Eddie. Tell me where you’re off to.”

Eddie breathed in, breathed out. “My Uncle. He’s getting his appendix out so I’m trying to get there before he wakes up.”

“Oh. I had mine out when I was 10! Is he okay?” Steve seemed genuinely concerned and Eddie felt his stomach swoop.

“Yeah! Yeah, they caught it before it ruptured. But because of his age, they said his recovery might be a little rough so I’m gonna stay with him for a week to make sure he doesn’t overdo it. He’s a stubborn old man who’d probably be pulling weeds from his garden within hours if I wasn’t going so.” Eddie looked back out the window. Fingers reached under his chin, turning him away from the window.

“Eyes on me.”

Oh, Jesus Christ.

Eddie nodded and squeezed Steve’s hand.

“Good.”

Fuck.

“So, you’re close with your uncle?” Steve asked, as if he hadn’t just turned Eddie’s entire world upside down.

“Mhm. He basically raised me. More like a dad,” Eddie whispered out.

The pilot was making an announcement, but you couldn’t pay Eddie to tell you what it was for. He barely even noticed that they were backing away from the boarding zone.

“Do you visit him often?”

“As often as I can. My job keeps me busy,” Eddie shrugged, not really wanting to give it away, didn’t wanna give Steve a reason to look at him differently.

Eddie was gonna soak up this attention as long as he could.

It was actually helping distract him.

“I get that. I mean, I play basketball for Notre Dame and it basically is a full time job. We travel so much, most of my classes are online. I hardly ever get back home to visit my family,” Steve admitted with a sad smile. “Luckily, they come see me at my home games when they can. Does your uncle get to visit you sometimes?”

Just as Eddie went to answer, he caught lightning out of the corner of his eye and his entire body tensed.

“Hey.” Steve’s voice was firm, drawing his attention away from the window quickly. “Keep your eyes on me. We’re fine. Just you and me talking right now.”

They were nearly at the runway for takeoff and it was getting harder to focus on Steve’s words, the warmth of his hand in his, the fact that if it were truly dangerous, they wouldn’t even be cleared for takeoff.

As the plane sped up, Eddie whimpered.

He’d be embarrassed later if he survived.

Steve’s hand pulled from his and wrapped around his shoulder, pulling him against his side while his other hand cupped the back of his head and kept his face against his chest.

“Just breathe. I’ve got ya.”

And really, if the plane went down in flames, no one could save them. But hearing it did help, especially with arms holding him so tightly, he almost didn’t even remember he was on a plane.

But not quite.

The wind was strong enough to make the takeoff rough, shaking the plane more than usual as it left the ground.

Eddie’s hand gripped Steve’s shirt so tight, he would probably cause a tear if his nails weren’t so dull.

He stayed like that while they continued to climb above the clouds, the air pockets making the flight a bit more turbulent than Eddie was okay with.

He felt the vibrations of Steve talking, but didn’t hear him, didn’t even know if he was talking to him or the guy next to him who probably thought Eddie was an idiot.

The pilot made an announcement he didn’t hear, but he figured if he was gonna die, he could die against the chest of a nice, hot guy.

“Worst of it’s almost done, babe,” Steve said, lips against the top of Eddie’s head.

Gareth would never stop teasing him about this if he ever found out.

Being consoled by a sports ball guy during a flight he’s taken at least 30 times in the last two years.

New low? Maybe new high if he managed to get his number.

Steve’s fingers played with his hair, and he slowly felt his body relax.

His last thought before drifting asleep was how nice it was to be held like this.

***

“I think he’s probably a cookie guy.”

Eddie’s eyes blinked open to Steve’s voice quietly rumbling in his ear.

He’d been adjusted at some point so his head rested on Steve’s shoulder, one hand against his chest.

He couldn’t remember the last time he fell asleep on a flight. Maybe the last time they flew to London from LA right after a show?

And those had been perfect flying conditions.

He lifted his head as he rubbed at his eyes and tried not to let the butterflies take over when Steve’s hand squeezed his hip.

“Hey sleepyhead. You want cookies or pretzels?”

“Cookies always. Please.” Eddie yawned.

As he took the package of Biscoff cookies, he noticed how smooth the flight was and the sun shining through the window.

Steve’s arm stayed around him.

The entire flight.

Even after he’d gotten up to use the restroom.

Even when there was no real reason to offer him comfort anymore.

Even when they landed on the runway in Indianapolis and the seatbelt light turned off.

Even while they talked to each other the entire flight, sharing the smallest details about themselves as if it was a first date.

“Would it be okay if I get your number? I’d like to check on your uncle later if that’s okay,” Steve asked, suddenly seeming more nervous than he had the entire flight.

I’m “Yes! Yeah, please,” he quickly typed it into Steve’s phone, putting his name as Eddie M 🛫. “Uh, thanks for, ya know, helping. Kind of embarrassing.”

“No reason to be embarrassed. It was scary.”

“Yeah. I just figured I fly so much, I should be used to it.”

“You never told me what your job was,” Steve nudged him as he pocketed his phone.

“I didn’t.” Eddie almost didn’t wanna ruin this. But he’d figure it out or find out and then it’d be worse. “I’m the lead singer for Corroded Coffin.”

“Is that…a famous band?”

The guy on the other side of Steve smacked his shoulder. “Dude, one of their songs is on our locker room hype playlist. Dustin’s obsessed.”

“Shut up, Lucas. You know I have my own playlist!” Steve turned back to Eddie and rolled his eyes. “Sorry. So you’re like famous.”

“You could say that,” Eddie hated saying it though, at least in these situations. “You really didn’t know?”

“Nah. I’m more of a pop and 80s kinda guy.”

“Maybe you could send me a playlist? Ya know, when you check on my uncle later,” Eddie suggested.

“Sure. I’ve got a two and a half hour bus ride back to campus to work on one.” Steve smirked. “You gonna be alright now?”

“Yeah. Thanks again. For taking care of me.”

“Anytime. Anything you need.”

And Eddie was pretty sure he meant it.

[hyunjinners]

✧:･ﾟ Stray Kids react → you declaring yourself to them ˚₊· ꒰🌿꒱

꒰ 命 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ꒱┊ members' reaction when you declare yourself to them.

꒰ 命 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ꒱┊ot8¡ x non/idol!fem¡reader

꒰ 命 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 ꒱┊cute, comfort, friends to lovers.

꒰ 命 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ꒱┊none, just cute stray kids stuff.

꒰ 命 𝐖.𝐂 ꒱┊4,1k

꒰ 命 𝐀/𝐍 ꒱┊I'm really addicted to writing skz compilations ;) In some parts the reader is not an idol, I ended up getting excited and forgot about the plot haha remembering that English is not my first language! I apologize in advance if there are any spelling and/or grammatical errors. Enjoy reading - feedback is appreciated. ^-^

⊹₊˚ʚ❛masterlist❜ɞ

ᥫ᭡ ˖ 𖥔 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍 ... 𖥔

・✦ You became trainees at the same time and that's when you met and got closer.

・✦ He would sneak food in for you, given the strict diet the company forced you to follow, and you couldn't be more grateful to him.

・✦ the care and zeal he has for you captivated you and strengthened your relationship even after both of your debuts.

・✦ You debuted solo and he couldn't be more proud, always supporting you even when he was busy with the group's busy schedule.

・✦ Some time after your great success as a solo artist, some acquaintances from high school attacked you on social media, creating a situation claiming that you were bullying some of them.

・✦ You got really upset with all the hate and false claims and it all got worse when the company forced you to go on hiatus.

・✦ Chan, being the cutest and most understanding person you knew, was by your side comforting you and whispering comforting words in your ear while wrapping you in a hug.

・✦ Perhaps because of the heat of the moment or adrenaline, you unconsciously let out the three most comforting and perhaps feared words for many people.

・✦ He was in shock for a few seconds and his breathing hitched when he felt the caress he was giving his head stop.

・✦ He pushed you away and looked into your eyes to see if he had heard correctly, still in disbelief about the words he had previously said and even more shocked about his future ones.

・✦ "I have always loved you. I can't hide my feelings that I have felt for so long. You have always been by my side and I never had the opportunity to be clear with you, so… thank you. For supporting me and for everything you've done for me in general."

・✦ After his sincerity it was her turn to be shocked when she felt his soft lips join hers.

・✦ he loved you too.

❪ ε ї з ❫

ᥫ᭡ ˖ 𖥔 𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 ... 𖥔

・✦ You are childhood best friends where you have established an intimate and somewhat fun relationship. You have always teased each other a little but clearly with affection - even if it doesn't seem like it.

・✦ You debuted a year after him, following him closely and both supporting each other in moments of so much pressure.

・✦ It all happened when you were backstage at the first Stray Kids awards. You were in the front row to see up close the achievement of the boys who were still so young and evolving so quickly.

・✦ When it was all over, you didn't even wait for him to move away from the boys to jump into his arms. He held you, a sweet laugh escaping his lips at the feeling of ecstasy and happiness.

・✦ you hugged him tightly and pulled away, looking at him with a sincere smile and a loving sparkle in your eyes, your heart almost jumping out of your chest with pride.

・✦ "I'm so proud of you I could kiss you!" He looked at you in shock, a playful smile on his lips. "What did you say?" "Minho, just-" he came dangerously close and whispered close to her face, his warm breath making her stomach feel strange. "You can."

・✦ Adrenaline took over you and before you knew it you were kissing your childhood best friend deeply and passionately.

・✦ You didn't know what your relationship would be like from now on, but you were sure it was worth a try.

❪ ε ї з ❫

ᥫ᭡ ˖ 𖥔 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐁𝐈𝐍 ... 𖥔

・✦ You met through your parents who had a professional partnership that sparked a friendship, consequently causing Changbin and you to get together.

・✦ You are two years younger than him, so when you both decided to become idols together, he ended up entering first - at your parents' request.

・✦ You were from different companies, but that didn't divide you, in fact it helped to avoid future possible rumors.

・✦ you would constantly visit each other in the dorms for movie nights or go out really late, going to the nearest convenience store to try different flavors of ramen while telling each other about their day.

・✦ you constantly helped each other with health issues, always asking each other about food and if they were keeping up with an exercise routine, where he convinced her to train with him and he wouldn't accept any other answer than yes.

・✦ But the time you enjoyed spending together the most was during your free time, when you could visit your parents together.

・✦ On one of those occasions, you were responsible for taking care of your younger sister while your parents were away and he accepted the task along with you.

・✦ She is small but very energetic, so it was a somewhat complicated task. Changbin had a way with kids, so he had some super cute moments with her, making you wonder if your sister liked you or him more.

・✦ You were cutting fruit on the kitchen counter while watching Changbin play with the girl.

・✦ Smiling, you take the bowls of fruit into the living room as you sit down next to them. You let out a laugh when you see your sister snort at having to move away from Changbin to eat.

・✦ "You have a way with kids. I think you'll be a good father." You whisper softly next to Changbin, who almost choked on the comment. He looks at you perplexed with an unconscious smile on his face.

・✦ "do you think? I mean, I really like kids, so…" He looks dreamily at his sister and you can't ignore the butterflies in your stomach that insist on appearing whenever you're around him.

・✦ "I'm sure your future wife will be very lucky. You are handsome, affectionate, intelligent, funny... I bet she'll love it so much." You laugh, biting into your fruit, not realizing the effect you had on Changbin.

・✦ "What- what did you say?" You're both silent for a while as you ponder your response. Sighing, you slowly observe his reaction, "Honestly?... I would like to be that future wife. I like you, Changbin. I don't think I was lying when I said I would love you very much." He coughs, choking on a piece of apple. You despair, helping him to choke. With wide eyes in surprise, he holds your shoulders and looks you straight in the eyes.

・✦ "You're kidding, aren't you?"

・✦ "... No, I'm not, Changbin. I really like you." He leaned over and wrapped her in a hug, his sister just staring blankly.

・✦ He also dreams of having children with you.

❪ ε ї з ❫

ᥫ᭡ ˖ 𖥔 𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐍 ... 𖥔

・✦ you meet when you bump into each other at a cafe near his company.

・✦ He had just debuted as an idol, so he wasn't that well-known on the street yet, but you recognized him.

・✦ You were the first person who recognized him and he was very happy that the first fan who recognized him was a girl as beautiful as you.

・✦ It turned out that you often showed up at this cafe to study to get into college and he ended up becoming friends with you.

・✦ he felt like you were an angel sent by destiny to be his lifeline, supporting him in everything he did and always giving the best advice for his own good, as well as being present in both the happiest and most difficult moments of his life.

・✦ he didn't know how to express his enormous gratitude, so he just reciprocated the actions by being with you in the time of pressure before and during college, celebrating your entry with you and always taking you out to distract your mind whenever he could.

・✦ and things changed between you during one of these walks. There was a flower festival that happened once a year that you were extremely excited to go to. You planned the trip for weeks and he couldn't say no.

・✦ The festival went on from afternoon to night, so you were able to watch the sunset together amidst the lilies he insisted on giving you as a gift.

・✦ you rested your head on his shoulder as you sat on a wooden bench in a place that allowed a beautiful view of the horizon.

・✦ "I wish time would stop right here, I wish I could stay with you like this forever." Hyunjin felt his ears heat up, petting his hair in response. "Me too. It was an amazing day, yes."

・✦ you stared at him deeply and he looked back, trying to read your expression. Immersed in desire and passion, you hold the back of his neck, leaning in for a soft kiss, your lips barely touching as you touch him.

・✦ perplexed, he widened his eyes, still a little scared, but returning the kiss in a more intense way, his hands unconsciously going towards her waist.

・✦ pulling away with your lips parted from the lack of air, you rest your forehead against his, a happy laugh leaving your lips.

・✦ "I'm glad you didn't push me" Still a little disoriented, Hyunjin laughs at your silly comment, longing for more of your lips on his.

・✦ "never." He leans in again, captivating her lips affectionately.

❪ ε ї з ❫

ᥫ᭡ ˖ 𖥔 𝐉𝐈𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆 ... 𖥔

・✦ the way they met was actually a bit chaotic. You were running through the company's corridors, late again for another rehearsal, when you bumped into Jisung, spilling the coffee he had in his hands all over herself.

・✦ He became desperate, apologizing as if it was all his fault for not looking forward. In the midst of despair, you could only laugh and without understanding anything he accompanied you laughing, even though he had a desperate look on his face, thinking you wanted to kill him.

・✦ The following week he came to you with a new sweatshirt in hand and you were enchanted by how sweet and thoughtful he was. In return, you bought the coffee that spilled from his hands with a cute note apologizing and thanking him for the sweatshirt.

・✦ After that, your friendship began with the ritual of buying each other coffee with a cute note asking about their day or a motivational phrase.

・✦ During a Stray Kids performance, you were in the front row happily cheering for the group's next achievement. When the performance was over, you gave them a standing ovation and didn't miss the wink Jisung threw your way, making you smile.

・✦ Three days later you were surprised when the media linked Jisung to you, making thousands of theories about both of you being together. You were heavily criticized and received a lot of hate from people who claimed to be "stays", causing you to step away for a short period of time.

・✦ a week later, Jisung was in front of your apartment and when you realized it you were already crying in his arms on the couch in your apartment.

・✦ he kisses the top of your head, speaking comforting words into your ear. You sighed tiredly, stood up and wiped your tears, staring at him for a few seconds before speaking.

・✦ "... I just don't understand." Her voice was almost a whisper and he listened intently to every word that came out of her mouth. "Would it be so bad if we were dating? What have I done to these people?" You bring your hands to your eyes, sobbing once more. He wraps his arms around her again, resting his chin on her head.

・✦ "They don't understand. And don't worry, it's not like we have anything to hide."

・✦ "what if we did?" You whispered, your words hanging in the air as he made a confused face. "What do you mean?"

・✦ "Would it be so bad if we were in a relationship? What if I wanted that?" You gather your courage and face him defiantly.

・✦ "... what-"

・✦ "I like you, Jisung. I don't care what anyone says, what bothers me is that you're so oblivious to it. I want you. I need you."

・✦ He looks at her scared, immersed in his thoughts. It doesn’t last long until he smiles and leans in to kiss you deeply, wanting this for so long his bones could ache.

・✦ He didn't see a problem with that either.

❪ ε ї з ❫

ᥫ᭡ ˖ 𖥔 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐗 ... 𖥔

・✦ You were the first person to greet him at school when he moved to Korea.

・✦ He was in a confusing phase for himself, still discovering his passions and talents and you were the only one who understood him and waited for him in his time, always being by his side in difficulties.

・✦ People compared you to a ray of sunshine, but for him, you were the light that provided a way out in his darkest moments.

・✦ As time went by, he debuted as an idol and you followed the career you wanted, becoming an interior designer specializing in landscaping.

・✦ You loved everything related to nature and he was no different, loving to travel to places with the best views, always remembering you in the most memorable memories for him.

・✦ During the boys' comeback, Felix was working hard day and night, always bringing out the best in his performances and never letting anything down.

・✦ one of his shows was cancelled due to problems at the venue where they were going to perform and after weeks of tiredness he would finally have at least one day off.

・✦ Taking advantage of the opportunity, you invited him to go to the beach, since you both loved it and hadn't gone out for a long time due to your busy schedule.

・✦ the ride was fun from start to finish and you were hyperventilating over little things like you sharing headphones during the car ride or how he was concerned about whether you were staying hydrated and wearing sunscreen.

・✦ After a whole day of playing in the water, you sat side by side to watch the sunset. Your shoulders were touching and you didn't miss the way your hands were so close, yet still untouchable.

・✦ you watched as the bright orange hue reflected off the blond strands of Felix's hair, looking peaceful as if the breeze took away all his worries and tensions.

・✦ "You're beautiful." His voice came out as a whisper and you knew you couldn't stop talking from now on, "I feel more relaxed when I'm with you. I don't think I need to come to the beach all the time if I already have my daily ray of sunshine."

・✦ Felix looks at her with a genuine smile and you could see the affection through his irises. "Thank you for bringing me here, Y/n. Thank you for everything really." With a smile you slowly lean in and Felix could only close his eyes. Gently your lips connected and you could still feel the mixture of your sweet lips with the salty sea water. He still a little hesitantly holds her waist, bringing her almost impossibly closer.

・✦ moving away but still close to his face, you spoke softly, like a secret now revealed, "I love you. I always have. I'm in love with you and I'm sure it's because you're the easiest person to love."

・✦ Surprised and excited, Felix places a kiss on her cheek and then rests his head on her shoulder.

・✦ "It would be impossible for me not to reciprocate the feelings."

❪ ε ї з ❫

ᥫ᭡ ˖ 𖥔 𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍 ... 𖥔

・✦ the way they met was too cute and Seungmin would never confess - even if you commented on it.

・✦ Even in his pre-debut, Seungmin has always been the schematic and methodical type. He had a routine of going to the gym three times a week at a specific time and, coincidentally, he passed by the same square where you used to sit to read a book.

・✦ At first he just ignored you there, but after strangely noticing your long hair, or the cute way you wrinkled your nose when you read something that caught his attention, or when he randomly closed the book to "absorb" what was written there, he thought that maybe it would be interesting to know more about you.

・✦ He was never the intellectual reading type, but he thought that to impress a female reader, it would be good to have a little literary knowledge. When buying a book in a bookstore near the square, he discovered that his parents owned the establishment, and he was overcome with excitement.

・✦ He started to constantly visit the place to see you and in the end it was you who started talking to him and that's where your friendship began.

・✦ Even after his debut you remained firm and strong by his side, even though he couldn't often attend your little reading sessions where you read in silence just enjoying each other's company.

・✦ Over time, Stray Kids became increasingly popular, not only in Korea, but in many places around the world. That said, the group's first world tour was approaching and everyone was nervous. Seungmin became more and more distant as the week progressed as it was time to prepare for his world debut.

・✦ the day before the trip, you showed up at the door of his and the boys' dorm, sending a message as soon as you got there. He replied a few minutes later, saying he would be late at the company.

・✦ You were very frustrated because you didn't know if you would be able to say goodbye to him, since six months away without being able to see Seungmin was a long time for both of you. You leave the book you were going to give Seungmin as a gift at the dorm door, leaving immediately.

・✦ a little after midnight, you hear your phone vibrate on the nightstand, seungmin’s name flashing on the screen. You answer, completely concerned as to why he's calling so late.

・✦ He asks you to answer the door and without further contradiction you practically run to open the door.

・✦ Still sleepy, you almost fall with the impact of the hug that Seungmin gives you. He wraps his arms around you in an almost desperate way, wishing he couldn't let go of you anymore.

・✦ “Is it true? Did you really mean that?”

・✦ completely confused, your mind seems to want to play a trick on you, making you forget the moment that happened earlier, where you left the book with a dedication to Seungmin inside.

・✦ he breaks the hug, showing the book that had been in his hands all this time. 'Welcome to Hyunam-dong Bookstore' was no longer in its original gift packaging, a yellow post-it was stuck to the inside of the cover, which said: “I hope you enjoy this reading as much as I enjoyed the moments I had with you. I love you, I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoy you.”

・✦ your eyes widened in utter surprise. You thought you might not be able to say goodbye to him in person, So he wrote this note in the heat of the moment, almost afraid that this trip might separate you two.

・✦ “Minnie… I’m sorry. This may sound wrong, but… I really like you. Ever since I met you… s-since forever, I think…”

・✦ His words are a bit disjointed and low, but the only reaction Seungmin had was to gently hold his face and do what he had always wanted since that day in the square: kiss her without guilt or resentment.

❪ ε ї з ❫

ᥫ᭡ ˖ 𖥔 𝐉𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍 ... 𖥔

・✦ JYP was not an unfamiliar environment for you. Your older sister, a third-generation K-pop idol, often invited you to watch her train.

・✦ The JYP halls were a familiar environment for you and this gave you the opportunity to meet many famous people. And Jeongin was one of them.

・✦ At first, you would just exchange a few nods or a quick “good morning.” However, one day when you had to wait patiently for your sister in the cafeteria area, Jeongin saw you sitting alone.

・✦ He was surprised at himself, since he had promised himself not to make friends during his trainee days, due to the fact that people came and went easily. But you had a different aura to him.

・✦ time passed, he debuted and you stayed with him. Jeongin didn't regret talking to you that day, because from then on you were the one who supported him through the most difficult moments during the beginning of his career.

・✦ You saw Jeongin as an escape from all the problems of your day to day life. No matter the situation, just seeing his face, with that cute dimpled smile, the tension in your body would go away.

・✦ Spending time with him was comfortable and became incredibly familiar. You became an important part of Jeongin's life, and vice versa. The boys were happy to know that there was someone to brighten their youngest member's darkest days.

・✦ After a few years of friendship, the Stray Kids dorm had become an almost routine environment for you. One Friday, Jeongin invited you to join the boys' movie night.

・✦ You quickly got ready, stopping by the convenience store before walking to the dorms since it wasn't that far from your house.

・✦ you felt your cell phone vibrate as you walked down the sidewalk with some very full bags in your hand. You tried to get the cell phone out of your pocket, However, because of the piled up bags, he ended up falling on the sidewalk.

・✦ Without thinking twice, you quickly bent down to pick it up, not noticing the electric bike that was quickly coming towards you. It all happened so fast that you could say it was like a quick dream (or nightmare), like the kind you have when you take a short nap.

・✦ you were thrown away and the bike ended up running over your ankle, dislocating it. You ended up passing out from the pain on your way to the hospital, in the ambulance that the cyclist called to help you.

・✦ You woke up a few hours later, the light reflecting off the white walls of the hospital room hitting your eyes hard, making you squint.

・✦ you felt soft threads near your hand, and as soon as you regained some consciousness, you realized that Jeongin was lying next to you in a completely uncomfortable position. It didn't take him long to wake up, looking a little desperate as he did so.

・✦ “thank god! I- I thought… Y/n…”

・✦ Jeongin's eyes filled with tears and the words were a little stuck in his throat. “If I hadn't called you at that time, none of this would have happened... a man ended up answering his phone and told me what had happened. Forgive me, S/n.”

・✦ his words were still a little distorted because of the effect of the drug, where you were barely assimilating what was happening.

・✦ With a smile, you wipe Jeongin's tears gently. “I was so scared… scared of losing you. It could have happened because of a bike, but it could have been worse-”

・✦ “Don't do that. If you keep crying because of me, it'll make me fall in love with you even more.”

・✦ Jeongin was paralyzed by his slurred, barely audible words. He whispered a “what?” under his breath, his heart racing with even more disconcerting thoughts.

・✦ He stayed in the same position for a few seconds, long enough to make you fall back asleep. He kissed your forehead affectionately as he pulled away..

・✦ “I hope you remember your words when you wake up.”

[breadbrobin]

campfire games

luke castellan x reader - percy jackson and the olympians

[established relationship, fem!daughter of ares reader]

summary: bets are fun, until they aren’t. you’re fine though. luke knows you’re an absolute badass.

warning: pushy male behaviour, suggestive comments, swearing, bets, threats, assault (physical), sexual harassment.

word count: 1.6k

(help i’m writing too many of these but this is the only other good one also feel free to leave requests yall i’m on summer break i have so much time and need something to do 🤩🤩)

(also i am still in love with luke castellan thank you very much I CAN FIX HIM PLSSSS)

(also very sorry to anyone named andrew it was the first name i thought of)

——————————————————

there wasn’t much that your siblings in the ares cabin liked more than winning capture the flag, but watching you tear down another boys’ ego was definitely one of those few things.

campfires were great for many reasons. singing, marshmallows, games—and bets. when chiron and mr d. turned in for the night early, something that rarely happened, the bets would come out. guys would try and talk to you, your siblings would intercept them, find out what they wanted, then place bets among themselves and with other campers as to how long it would take you to tear them down a few notches, or, on occasion, tear them a new one.

clarisse patted your shoulder as two of your brothers talked to another camper. “incoming.”

“details?” you picked at the chipped red polish of your fingernails.

“son of apollo. been here for about two months. andrew. something about wanting to go on a date with you and thinking you’re prettier than the aphrodite girls.” she rolled her eyes. “he tried it on with me before and doesn’t like taking no for an answer, so break his spirit completely. or, you know, his bones.”

you saluted her teasingly. “yes, ma’am. you can count on me, sergeant.”

she patted your shoulder again with a joking grin. “good on you, private. godspeed.”

with that, she left you sitting alone.

well, not really alone.

luke castellan had somehow ended up as your bodyguard in all of these cases. probably something to do with the fact that you’d been dating in secret for the last three months. you weren’t a huge fan of keeping your relationship a secret, but when you’d told clarisse, she told you that her and your other siblings wanted to keep making easy money, and betting on me was the best way to do that. since everyone thought you and luke hated each other anyway, it was easy enough to keep it up, but as your mocking remarks turned to teasing, then to flirting, it was getting more and more difficult. and as he was getting more attractive each day, it was getting harder not to kiss him in front of everyone at camp.

you swivelled in your seat to look up at him. he was sitting three rows back, almost hidden in the darkness, a distinctly put out look on his face.

“you hear that?” you asked with raised eyebrows and a grin on your face. “he thinks i’m prettier than the aphrodite girls. when have you ever said that?”

“i told you you’re prettier than a model one time and you punched me,” he said dryly. “and then i said you look like a goddess while fighting and you punched me again.”

“in my defence, i did hate you at the time.” you shrugged. “got my back?”

“always.” he said seriously.

you grinned and winked at him as you turned around, waiting for the newest idiot to come annoy you.

luke had, once upon a time, been one of those idiots in your mind. he irritated you to no end. he was better than you at sword fighting, so you bested him at everything else. he was more popular than you, so you became one of the most well-liked people at camp. all of your attempts to break him down, however, only made him fall in love with you. now, there you were, wishing you could be sitting beside him instead of waiting for some loser to come annoy you to death.

“y/n, hey.” andrew said, sitting next to you, probably a little too close.

you looked over at him. “andrew, right?”

he nodded, his smile widening as you knew his name.

you sat up straighter and scrutinised him, looking him up and down. “yeah, you look like an andrew.”

you heard luke hide a laugh in his cup behind you.

andrew’s face fell a little, but he regained it quickly. “heard you were one of the best fighters in camp.”

“i am.”

“that’s pretty cool. i mean, i can help you become the best if you want.”

“no, i think i’m okay.”

“come on, i mean, everyone needs to improve. even the self-proclaimed best. bet i’m better at archery than you at least.”

you looked over at his smirk and had to stop yourself from smirking too. this would be too easy. “no. thanks, though. i’m good on my own. one of the best, remember.”

“you could be better. we should have a little challenge. a game.”

“i only play games with people i like.”

“you could like me.” he leaned a little closer. you leaned away slightly. “i bet i could make you like me.”

you had to stop yourself from laughing. “yeah, i don’t think so, buddy.”

‘buddy’ was usually all it took to break a man’s ego. you’d used it on luke many times during unusually flirtatious sparring, back when you still pretended to hate his guts. it didn’t work on him anymore, but it usually worked perfectly on everyone else.

andrew didn’t falter. “i bet i could. give me a chance. let me take on a date. show you a good time.”

“no, thanks,” you said calmly. your siblings were watching intently. clarisse looked ready to step in if you needed it. you wondered what he’d said or done to her to put her on edge. then you realised it wasn’t what he’d done to her. it was what he was about to do to you.

his hand was on your thigh, gripping onto the bare skin by the hem of your shorts.

his hand was on your thigh.

gross.

you looked up at him, eyes sharp. you could hear luke shifting slightly behind you. “what are you doing?” you voice was deathly calm.

“showing you that i can show you a good time, princess.” his voice oozed honey—sickly sweet and sticky, like a fly trap. good thing you hated honey.

“how about i show you how many bones there are in the hand? by breaking every single one.” your voice was equally as saccharine sweet, but your eyes were glaring daggers into his and your jaw was set tight.

he just shifted his hand higher. you tried to push him off but he was strong. annoyingly strong.

he tutted. “come on, sweetheart. you’re gonna make a scene.”

you finally managed to peel his hand off your skin. “i’ll make a scene, alright. get off me and leave me alone. and while you’re at it, leave my sister alone too.”

he raised his hands, a sickening, sleazy smirk on his face. “i was just being nice, princess. you and your sister need to relax. you especially. i can help you relax.”

“oh, i’d love that. you know how i relax?” you tilted your head mockingly, eyes hard. “i punch my enemies in the face.”

he laughed. “you’re cute. now, come on. it’s not like you’ve got anything going for yourself. i mean, you’re hot, sure, but no guys ever gonna look at you when they realise how much of a bitch you are. not like i will.”

you rolled your eyes and stood up. it was time to go and sit by luke. it grated at you, but if he wouldn’t listen to you, maybe he’d listen to another guy.

he didn’t let you leave. his hand gripped your wrist and pulled you back to him as he stood up too. you were chest to chest with him. he towered over you, at least six inches taller. you stepped back, but he pulled you in by your waist and laughed.

“look at how good we look together,” he smirked. “i could show you—“

you punched him in the stomach. he doubled over, finally letting you go, so you kneed his diaphragm. he gasped for air as you stepped back. your friend chris rodriguez whistled appreciatively.

“touch me, or anyone here, ever again and i won’t just hurt you.” you hissed at him. “i’ll beat your ass, then i’ll drag you past the boundary and leave you for the monsters. got it?”

he nodded, still hunched over.

“good boy,” you grit out.

“fucking bitch,” he grunted.

your eyes darkened, but you didn’t do anything. your siblings were right behind him, all ready to drag him away. “good luck walking tomorrow, andrew.”

“good luck finding a guy stupid enough to fuck you,” he scorned.

you laughed. “hey, luke?”

“yeah, babe?” he stepped down beside you, his hand settling on your hip and pulling you gently into his side. andrew faltered at the sight. he probably hadn’t even realised luke was up there.

“are you stupid enough to fuck me?” you asked with raised eyebrows.

he looked like he was trying not to laugh. “oh, i’m way past stupid.”

you didn’t care about any of your sibling’s bets anymore. you didn’t care that people thought you hated each other. you especially didn’t care that everyone was watching. you kissed him. and in front of the whole camp, he kissed you back.

your siblings groaned in disappointment, knowing their betting days were over, but you didn’t care. you smiled the stupidest smile ever as you pulled away, feeling like you’d just had your first kiss all over again.

“what?” he asked quietly.

“nothing.” you shook your head. “just glad we don’t have to hide anymore.”

after months of kissing behind buildings, pretending to fight in public and avoiding each other so people wouldn’t find out, it felt honestly freeing to kiss him in the open.

he kissed you again as your siblings dragged andrew away. “and all it took was an asshole.”

“thanks for not stepping in,” you said. “i had it handled.”

“oh, i know you did. i was more than happy to watch you destroy his ego.”

“good, because if you had stepped in—“

“i’d be going home in an ambulance?” he smiled.

“no, you’d be going home in a hearse.”

“ah, my bad.”

as the campfire kept burning, you sat down with luke. your legs were pressed against his and his arm was around your waist. there wasn’t much that you liked more than tearing boy’s egos down, but being with luke castellan was definitely one of those few things.

[taeslarityy]

dirty laundry ༄ dave york one shot (18+)

-> pairing: dark dave york x female reader

-> word count: 2.8k

-> summary: it’s a hot august week at the york’s lake house, which also happens to be the week you and your husband got married one year ago. your father in law — dave york — finds you changing in the laundry room and decides to give you a celebration of his own.

-> warnings/tags: father-in-law dave york, infidelity, dubcon, NON-CON, age gap (reader is 21, dave is nearing 50), SMUT 18+, heavy degradation(whore, slut, bitch), humiliation, dumbification, unprotected piv, sir kink, rough face-fucking, forced creampie, talk of pregnancy, reader is under the impression that she endures forced impregnation, hair pulling, slapping, spanking, semi naive reader, dave is not a cutesy nice man in this.. he honestly has no concern for readers feelings or pleasure. so please, if themes like dubious consent + non-con + blatant cheating are not ur forte, protect ur peace and scroll away!!

-> a/n: okay okay hiiiii. when i decided to participate in @hellishjoel ‘s #hotdilfsummerchallenge, i had a few ideas in mind. one happened to be this! but i felt more comfortable writing for joel and was confident in what i had planned. basically, this is opposite of that. no fluff or happy ending.. or even happy anything. so i wanted to share! thanks again kylee for letting me participate <3 and thank you to my beloved dearest @sweetpascal for aiding me yet again, i love u 🤍

let me know your thoughts!

DARK CONTENT BELOW: READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME.

A huge part of growth, means acknowledging your mistakes.

When you failed your first semester of college, you knew it was from lack of trying and partying six days a week. So, you studied more and partied four days a week instead. When you slammed your brand new Mercedes into a flag pole, you knew it was from scrolling on Instagram which caused you to push accelerate rather than stop. So, you never went on your phone while driving again.

When you fell in love your sophomore year and decided to get married at twenty, you knew it was because you needed the well-off grad school bachelor, Daniel York. So, inadvertently, you settled. Now, a year later, you're sobbing in his family’s lake house bathroom because he somehow forgot that tonight was the eve of your wedding anniversary.

You feel like a complete and utter idiot. And for once in your life, you just might be. Staring at your reflection, you examine your appearance. You look effortlessly amazing today, after spending the day out on the boat. Hair, body and face all faintly sun-kissed. Your skin freshly shaved, legs and arms lathered in your favorite oil.

This was your final attempt to see if Daniel would stare at you with the same look of admiration he had so long ago. Your first attempt to ask him about starting your own family. Tonight was the night, and you were determined.

Briefly peeking out of the guest bathroom and down the hall, you decide you can rush into the laundry room only a few doors down. Everyone should seemly be downstairs, finishing up a game of Monopoly. You had the pleasure of winning two games in a row, pissing of the frightfully competitive York family. That’s when you decided to call it a night and head up to get ready for bed — bidding everyone a goodbye as you kissed your husband atop his head.

Wrapping your robe securely around your waist, you make your way towards the closed door and enter just as the dryer sings the most obnoxious 45 second tune that confirms the load is finished. Rich people shit, you mutter to yourself. Grabbing your bikini and sundress to hang up first, then laying out a sheer white silk sleeping dress with baby blue lace trim.

Looking back at the closed door, you conclude you should be fine to just throw it on before laying yourself out on your shared bed. Ready for your husband to see you so open and willing to be used by him. As your robe falls to your feet, a slight creek fills the silent space.

Whipping your head back and grabbing the nearest towel to cover yourself, you're met with an alluring glare from your husbands own dad. Your father-in-law, Dave York.

"Dave wha- what are you doing?" You question with a panic laced tone. Completely thrown off by the way he's leaning against the now locked door, hands in his wrinkle-free perfectly fitted black work slacks. His lack of response is louder than the faint trickle from the utility sink your bare-ass is pressed against.

Dave saunters over to you, his pristinely polished shoes clinking heavily with every step despite the minimal weight he's using. It's a commanding presence, shows how he doesn't have to storm over to establish authority. His handsome body towers over you and the faint hairs on your spine rapidly rise at the feeling of his warmth nearing your own naked body. Aside from the small washcloth that covers your crotch and arm across your heavy tits.

His veiny calloused wedding ring-wearing hand reaches next to you, finding the lace on your nightgown satisfyingly soft.

"Look at this, angel. Did you plan on wearing it for my inconsiderate son?" He remarks, looking into your wide eyes as his fingers continue to twist and feel at a piece of clothing that is filling you with an overbearing amount of embarrassment.

"I d- you weren't supposed to see that." The nervous confession brings a crooked grin to Dave's face.

"It's real pretty, just like you. Sexy even.... but I wouldn't waste my time putting something like this on for Daniel." Shaking his head at your frazzled state and utilizing that dismissive tone he does so well.

"W-why?"

Pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance at your innocent unknowing voice, Dave reaches a hand to slowly move your arm that's covering your plush chest. "Because, he left 10 minutes ago. Waved bye to me as I pulled into the driveway."

Now you're really fucking confused. Your husband never goes off without texting you to let you know, and why would he leave you alone at his parents home? Especially on the night prior to your anniversary.

"I don't understand. Did he tell you where he was going?" You probe at him, not processing the way his rough fingertips are skimming over your navel, up across your chest. Suddenly, you yelp as he pinches your pebbled nipple and grips under your adjacent perky breast. Your hand quickly grabs at his wrist, but he slaps it away — holding it at your waist.

"You really have nothing going on in that head of yours, huh? Just floating around being the perfect little wife for my son, is that right? Too stupid and blind to see that your husband cheats on you every living moment and only married you because you're nothing more than a sweet voice who’s gentle on the eyes." His painful out-of-pocket words paired with the twisting of your nipples has heavy tears brimming at your lashes. "Kind of him to make sure you're gentle on his old mans eyes too.... we always did share a type."

"Fuck you," you spit at him. You've never dared be rude to Dave, or anyone for that matter. But his condescending temper, sudden violations to your privacy paired with the already upsetting feelings you've been enduring today was a breaking point. As you rip your hand from his grasp prepared to rush out of the room, he grabs your throat in a vice grip. Landing a brutal smack on your cheek that causes your head to turn from the impact, just for him to use that same hand to yank your hair back to a straight position. Body now pressed against your own — you feel the washcloth protecting your femininity drop at your bare feet in terror.

"Hmm. Never heard you cuss before, sweetheart. Thought I taught my son to train his wife better than that."

A heavy tear streams down your now red swollen cheek, as you take in the hurtful message your father in law is clarifying. You're nothing but a piece of fuck meat, a trophy wife. But clearly not honored enough for your husband to use you. Humiliatingly, the way Dave's clothed body is up against your own, has your exposed cunt throbbing and leaking down your legs for him. You were good enough for Dave York, and that was an honor within itself.

"'M sorry," you murmur at the feel of his covered thigh spreading your leg and nudging into your soaked pussy.

Dave chuckles at your nearly cock drunk state, "haven't even touched you and your leaking on my dress pants. No wonder he keeps you around, you're just a perfect little slut willing to please."

"Y- yeaah," you sigh lightly humping his thigh, even though Dave didn't even ask a question. Something within you just wanted him to understand your body was his to use, despite both your sacred dedications to other partners. People so close to you. His son, your husband. Your mother-in-law, his wife.

He swiftly moves his thigh from between your legs, pinching your cheeks so they're puckered willing you to look at him with those glossed over doe-eyes he fucking leaks over. "Use that head and address me properly."

Your head swarms for a second, worried of his reaction to an incorrect title. Testing the waters, you whine, "yes, sir." The words muffled by the tight hold he has on your face.

With a sinister grin on his face, Dave pushes you down on the solid tile — hand still threaded through your hair to ensure your head movement is in his control.

"Look at that, your brain does work. Let's see about that mouth."

Yanking the zipper down, he pulls his semi-hard cock out and slaps it on your cheek, precum smearing slightly. As you eye his cock, you come to the realization that he's slightly bigger than his son at half mast, and you're gonna have to calm yourself to handle a monster like that.

"Are you gonna show me how good you take a cock down your throat? With those dick-sucking porn worthy lips?" Dave peers down at you. He has started to jerk himself to full length, his thumbs barely touching around his width.

"Yes, sir. I am."

The way your eyelids flutter up at him, so docile and unaware of just how vicious Dave intends to be on your needy body. It unlocks that fundamental primal male urge that he normally suppresses during sex.

"Open your mouth, bitch." As your tongue lolls out of your mouth obediently, a dribble of spit going down your chin to your neck to your tits gleams in the soft light. Dave grins as he stuffs two fingers in your mouth, touching at your sensitive uvula. You instantly attempt suppressing your rare gag reflex, body unprepared for his actions. "Nice job, knew you were meant to have your mouth filled."

Dave rips his fingers from you and smears the thick string of saliva across your face — slapping you across the face, rather gentle than before. As he grabs his cock and lines it up with your mouth, you inhale deeply. Seemly more aware of how Dave likes to be. Callous, straight-forward and dominant.

Before you can suck him into your mouth, Dave spits right on his cock — some of it landing on your moisturized lips — just to slam himself down your throat. Your eyes spring open looking up at him, polished hands gripping at his slack-covered thighs. You feel your left over slick on his right pant leg. The taste of his long day is heavy on your tongue as his balls nuzzle at your chin. You're overwhelmed with his scent. The hair at the base of his cock tickles your nose, stud piercing almost getting caught.

"Riiiight there, that's fucking it. What a real fucking whore."

Dave lets his head fall backwards, eyes on the ceiling as he feels you sputter around him, your spit dripping heavily down his balls and onto the tile between his legs. He's unsure on how long he looks upwards, until he feels the digging of your fingertips into him. When he looks down, your eyes are bulging — about to roll into the back of your skull. So he pulls off of you.

Your belligerent cough is almost too loud for comfort, so Dave jerks his cock and plops his full balls into your mouth. And like the eager girl you are, you suck them into your mouth. Licking at the seam between them, letting them bounce off of your tongue. You lick downwards, tonguing at his delicate perineum. That small but dirty act makes him groan loudly. Loud enough for someone on the second floor to hear.

Realizing he's getting too comfortable, he goes back to filling your mouth. Alternating between shallow fucking of the throat and just letting it bulge inside. His big hands wrapping around your neck to jerk himself through the thin hump of protruding skin.

When he hears the shrewd screech of his name from the mouth of his wife downstairs, he pulls out swiftly and yanks you up, hoisting your leg onto the counter. Prodding his cock head at your now unbelievably soaked entrance.

Your mind is hazy and disorientated concerning what's about to happen. You feel like you've barely had any time to process the fact that your father in law is treating you like a common street whore. So, when he pushes into you, a wailing shriek escapes you.

Dave slaps his heavy hand around your mouth from behind, pushing in balls deep but not before releasing a moan of his own.

"Better shut that mouth before I stuff something in there... good god. How is that cunt so damn tight? You're snug around me, guess you're not a slut after all. Tight pussy but loose throat, just how I like it."

Dave proceeds with his relentless thrusts into your aching cunt. You don't remember the last time you were filled so thoroughly. It makes you forget how fucked up this situation truthfully is.

As Dave's cock is slamming into your cervix over and over, you feel your lower stomach tightening. He feels it too. Dave has been holding in his orgasm since you first fell to your knees and gave him those fuck toy eyes. So before you can cum all over him, he grabs you by the neck from the front and puts your ear right by his mouth so he can relay his special message.

"My son told me you've been begging him for a baby... how sweet. You just wanna be a mama, huh? Or maybe, you think having one will fix your relationship. Just reminds me how stupid you are. If a kid could save a marriage, my wife and I would've been happy ever since she pushed that little shit out. But, I'm gonna make it even better for you, sweetheart...."

Dave pushes to the hilt as you cum around him, whimpering behind his hand. Eager to hear his words, simultaneously terrified.

"Gonna cum inside and get you pregnant myself."

You scream into his hand, trying to push him away from you, trying to get yourself away from his spearing cock. All your effort does is push him in deeper, your body going lax at how stuffed you are.

"Don't fight me, angel. Just take it..." You feel his warm cum spilling into you, your body quivering. "Good... so good. I already feel your body sucking up my cum.. eager for it. Eager to be round with your father in law's baby. What will it call me? Grand-dad?" He snickers into your ear as he releases your body. You just lay there, half your limp limbs hanging off the counter.

Dave watches his thick white liquid drip out of you, and down your inner thighs. He pats your ass and tucks himself back into his slacks.

"Don't worry too much. Daniel looks just like me, he'll never find out his kid is actually his half-sibling. That is unless you tell him. You want him to find out you were on your knees being a slut for his, daddy?" Dave questions you. You don't speak a word. Just staring at the piped detailing on the cupboard that holds all the scented detergents.

"Just go, please. So I can clean myself up." Those few begging words take the reminanets of your little energy.

Dave grabs your now wrinkly nightgown and robe, pulling you off the counter so you're forced to stand in front of him. Body spent, his finger prints have left slight indents on various parts of you that you're positive will bruise in the days to come. You realize now, there's no way your husband can see you uncovered for weeks.

"You're gonna put this slutty outfit on and walk your ass into his room, with my cum dripping down your legs. He's been waiting for you, sweetheart."

Your jaw drops at his demand. Disgusted yet your cunt clenches at the filth of it all.

"I thought you said he left?"

Dave just smiles at you like you're a mindless child. You almost fall to the floor in despair at the discovery of what a lying sick bastard Dave has revealed himself to be. You don't know what to do. You've caught yourself up in this twisted game and as of now, there's no way out.

So, you throw the soft lace over your head and run your fingers through your hair attempting to fix your appearance. As you unlock the door, Dave places a gentle hand on your waist and kisses the top of your head. You hear him inhale your scent before he pushes you out of the door and watches you meander to his son's room, a slight limp in your legs.

You look at him, distain on your face as you open the door to find your husband scrolling on his phone. With an arrogant look spread across his face — "Where have you been?"

Dave hears the click of the door lock setting in place. As he walks towards the stairwell, he can't help but laugh at the memory of his vasectomy he received many years ago.

thank you truly for reading! let me know your thoughts below or in asks!! reblogs are greatly appreciated <3